#prince satoru gojo

[nana-au]

𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄...

 𝜗𝜚 Satoru Gojo Prince AU ♡ part two

 𝜗𝜚 Summary: the arrival of the annual ball the gojo's host each year stirs up a lot of emotions for the prince. he's expected to make his first moves of the social season. with all eyes on him, satoru finds himself openly declaring where he stands on the matter. story summary based off of this drabble

𝜗𝜚 Warnings: forbidden love, unspoken feelings, heavy angst, hurtful words aimed towards reader regarding her place in society, satoru struggles with adhd

 𝜗𝜚 wc: 3,411

𝜗𝜚 an: part two is here! this one is a closer to what happened in the drabble i originally wrote. buckle in.

┊p1┊p2┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p3┊

A week passes by quickly after that heart fluttering moment you shared with the Prince, and the dreaded day of the Gojo’s annual ball falls upon the palace. By the time you go to wake up Satoru, he’s already sat up in bed staring at the wall ahead of him. The uneasiness that filters from his body and surrounds the atmosphere is hard to ignore. “The King and Queen are requesting your presence at breakfast,” you tell him, his right eye twitching at your words. You knew what this meant for Satoru better than anyone. It was the first ball where he would be expected to find a royal debutante to court. You fought back a shudder at the thought. After moments of silence he finally gets up, hastily buttoning up a sleep shirt to face his parents before walking down the halls of the estate with you. His already pale face was ghostly white as he walked in step with you. His legs were long, one stride for him being two strides for you - but you've long been used to keeping up with his pace. Finding it as easy as breathing. You reach your pinky out to touch his, trying to subtly offer him your touch as support. His slender pinky feels yours and he quickly intertwines the two digits. He relaxes slightly, allowing the small amount of your skin against his to ease his anxiety. It isn't much longer before you're at the King and Queen’s preferred dining room, feeling Satoru start to stiffen again. “Deep breaths,” you whisper to him before pushing the doors open. His anxiety seems to disappear under the watchful eyes of his parents as he nonchalantly makes his way to his seat. You follow, pulling out his chair for him before making your way to the spot against the wall behind him. When it's just the two of you, Satoru insists you sit across from him and even begs you to break your fast with him. But being in front of the King and Queen, the rules you abided by were no longer Satoru’s but the two people who dictated both of your lives. It irritated Satoru to no end that he couldn’t see you behind him, and instead of eating his food he decided to push the pieces of meat around on his plate. 

“Satoru,” the Queen called out to him, causing him to straighten his back, “Remember your manners. Especially today of all days,” she huffed, taking a sip from her water glass. Upon getting his attention she continues talking to her son, “There will be plenty of high status women vying for your attention tonight. I ask that you entertain at least one,” she says sternly. “That includes participating in at least one dance, Satoru,” her hard face seemingly daring the Prince to ignore her requirements for the night. His own face finds the palm of his hand as he once again slumps in his seat and you feel a bead of sweat run down your back. As his servant, you’re not entirely in charge of getting the Prince to behave, but it doesn’t exactly make you look good either. 

“Prince Gojo, please make sure you are giving your full attention to the Queen,” you remind him and if you were any other person he wouldn’t be capable of biting his tongue at the statement. All though, it didn’t feel good to have you scold him either. He felt betrayed for some reason, and he struggled to keep the hurt from bubbling to the surface. He nodded to his mother regardless, adjusting his posture. 

𝜗𝜚

Upon leaving his parent’s private dining room, you bid goodbye to Satoru for the day. You’re not surprised when he suddenly has a burst of energy, “Wait, what?” he asks you, stopping you in your tracks. 

“I have to help my mother in the kitchens. I’m sorry Satoru,” you tell him, almost whispering when you use his given name so close to where the King and Queen spend their days. He huffs like a child, giving you pleading eyes.

“But who will pick out my attire?” he asks you, finding any reason to excuse you from your responsibilities in the kitchen. 

“Already taken care of,” you pat the top of his head and he groans, “The Queen picked it out anyways,” he goes to open his mouth but you’re already interrupting him, “There are other servants assigned to help you bathe and dress and fix your hair up. I wasn’t going to abandon you without setting you up well today,” you tell him, a small smile spreading across your lips. He still isn’t amused, reaching his pinky out to yours one last time. You can’t help but do a quick scan of the hall before intertwining yours with his, squeezing his in reassurance before turning your back to him and walking down the hall. “I’ll see you tonight, Prince Gojo,” you call out to him and you chuckle when you can hear him whine at the formality. 

𝜗𝜚

Satoru’s day dragged on without you in it. His mother had sent one of her own personal servants to walk him through the many guests that would be arriving. He didn’t bother to pay attention as the petite, older woman read out their names and status one by one. The Queen had to be a fool to believe Satoru was going to bother memorizing a single person. 

The servant made note of each available woman of royalty as she read down the impossibly long list and Satoru started to zone out completely at the first mention of a viable woman to court. The details of her political standing, who her father was, how sizable her dowry was… it was all useless information. To hell with it all, Satoru thought. The side of his head rested in his right hand, his eyes scanning the luxurious paintings around him; desperately wishing he was in an open field or the calm waters of the Ocean. Just like the scenes in the gold framed paintings depicted. Anywhere but where he currently was. 

He chose to focus his thoughts on you; lips forming a tight line as he pondered his circumstances. He vividly remembered his childhood with you. Being the only child his mother was able to carry to term, she was entirely devoted to his wellbeing at first. You had been born the same year as him and she saw no better fit for his development than another child. You lived a privileged life compared to other servants born into their servitude. You played in the gardens with Satoru; chasing grasshoppers and trying to catch the colorful fish in one of their many ponds. He still remembers the color of your eyes as you stood under the beating sun, your hair tied up neatly every morning by your mom. Younger you looked so much more alive. He wondered if he also changed like you. Now a hollowed out man with an equally hollow face.

You had even been able to attend some of Satoru’s classes with him as a child, since you were the only person able to get his unwavering attention. No matter what the teacher’s tried, the Prince would only listen to you when you pointed to his books for him to read a passage. The adults in your lives couldn’t understand what there was about you that kept his attention. But for him, it was the only thing in his life he could understand. There was always something about you that commanded his devotion and peaked his interest no matter how many hours in his day he spent with you. You were different from everyone else, and sadly you were different from him too. His head involuntarily shook when his memories went to a less favorable place: the same place that had you in the kitchens and him going over a list of women he would never dream of wanting. 

“Prince Gojo, you’re keeping up, yes?” the older woman asks, her voice sickly sweet but hiding her underlying annoyance with the Prince. Satoru yawns in response, nodding his head but not bothering to verbally answer her. 

𝜗𝜚

Time went on despite the Prince’s wishes and servants came in and out of his quarters. They bathed him, cleaned up his hair, and smoothed out his luxuriously blue waistcoat all despite the swatting of his hands and the roll of his eyes. Satoru had nothing to look forward to in his evening. You would surely be spending your time in the kitchens, assisting your mother in loading up endless drinks and fancy snacks that Satoru could only name because he kept track of every bite-sized morsel that offended his tongue. 

The night arrived and the guests began to pile into the Gojo’s massive ballroom, meaning Satoru had to unfortunately act like a Prince. He smiled at every face that passed his, entertaining those who struck up conversation, and offering drinks to keep people from getting ‘parched’. His princely display was entirely rehearsed, even the part where Satoru pretended that the sound of the live orchestra wasn’t driving him mad underneath the never-ending string of thoughts he always struggled with. 

Unbeknownst to Prince Gojo, his mother sat in the Queen’s seat at the center of the room, eyes glued onto her son’s every move. She silently critiqued him whenever he failed to hide his grimace and clicked her tongue as he avoided meeting a debutante's lingering stare. She leaned into the King’s ear, unable to keep her observations to herself and the King grunted in response, slurping from his chalice. 

The part of Satoru’s night he was most dreading arrived but the Prince was too distracted to hear the sound of the announcement he was anxiously waiting for. The Princess his mother’s servant drilled into his head earlier in the day was loudly greeted by the piercing sound of a trumpet and the roaring claps of the people inhabiting the room - but it was impossible for Satoru to hear when the glow of your face under the bright light sparkled in his line of sight. His breath hitched and he felt the familiar feeling of his throat tightening at the sight of you, his vocal chords tensing from the desire to call out your name. He swiftly made his way to you, hardly acknowledging the people he was pushing past when relief was just in reach.

He was directly in front of you when your eyes finally snapped up to his, the lines of your face smoothing out from the relief of seeing him. He breathed out your name and you smiled earnestly at him. “Prince Gojo,” you said, equally as breathy as you let a wave of ease crash upon your previous misery. It was your first time being on the ballroom floor during one of the Gojo’s regal events and you sweated at the intensity of it all. If you had it your way, you would never be subjected to the blinding lights and the heat caused by so many bodies in a single room; but one of the girls who would usually be holding your plate of hor d'oeuvres got sick moments before the first guests arrived. So here you were, standing around like a fool as you offered rich people mushy bites of whatever the royal court deemed popular that season. They didn’t even bother to look at you as they all grabbed the food off the tray you were holding, and you were reminded how these people saw you; not even worth the seconds it would take to meet your eyes.

Satoru was overwhelmed in a whole new way upon seeing you in attendance. It didn’t even cross his mind that you were doing a job; to him you were more important than every person standing in the room. None of their job descriptions or royal titles were even close to importance once you walked in. Satoru studied your figure, noticing the servant's uniform reserved for special occasions hugging your curves and your delicate lips colored with rogue. “You’re sparkling,” he says, not realizing it was out loud and you giggle awkwardly, unsure what he meant by that - but in his eyes you shone brighter than the heavens under the light given by a nearby chandelier. His hand comes up to the side of your head, and before you can even think of pulling away he’s twirling a single strand of hair that came loose from your ponytail around his slender finger. You hiccup at the action, seeing how enthralled he was to touch you in a room full of people. 

“Satoru-” you say, your voice barely above a whisper; the deep blush you now sported heating up your face worse than the lights. “You should really get back to the guests,” you tell him. He pays no mind to your words, his electric blue eyes entranced as he watches the strands of your hair lace around his digit.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the King and Queen see everything. They see their son choosing the company of a servant rather than their important guest - their son ignoring the Princess that just arrived despite the Queen making it clear he was to greet her. They watched as their son twirled your hair around his pathetic finger and smiled down at you like you were his world. It was making the Queen sick as she fanned herself, unable to look away from the disturbing scene unfolding in front of her. 

Satoru was insatiable. He tried to make conversation with the other royals roaming the ballroom but he stood no chance knowing you were just at the other end of the room. He gravitated to you, no matter where in the room you ended up in. He didn’t even bother to take the food off your plate to make it maybe even a little less obvious what he was doing. When it got closer and closer to the end of the night and Satoru still hadn’t asked someone for a dance, you pleaded with him to do as he was instructed. It was expected for the Prince to have a dance at every one of their annual balls; and this year it was anticipated that he would choose an available woman close in age to show his interest to everyone attending. Satoru only chuckled when you took an exasperated tone with him, insisting he hurry up and choose a dance partner. He does his signature eye roll, full of amusement and teasing before his face finally loses its humor. His lips part as he moves in close, his large hand coming up to grip your shoulder as he leans closer and closer into you, “Alright, I’ll dance. But you're still the only girl I want to hold in my arms,” he leans away just as fast as he had entered your personal space - giving you a cheeky smile before asking the first random woman he sees among the crowd of people. She’s a round woman, obviously out of his age range and sporting a wedding ring, but that doesn’t matter to Satoru. The crowd of people whisper amongst each other at what the Prince could possibly mean by picking her. Your stomach drops at the realization Satoru wasn’t even going to try and play by the King and Queen’s rules. His eyes were glued to yours the entire dance, releasing the once hidden defiance that always swirled under his skin for the entire room to finally see. Satoru wasn’t going to adhere to what society expected of him.

That terrified you. 

𝜗𝜚

You barely finished cleaning up the kitchen when the Queen’s most favored servant made an appearance, your father alongside her with a pale face. “The Queen is requesting your family’s attendance in her study,” she simply states before turning around and making her way down the hall, expecting you all to follow her. Your mother sets down the towel she was drying dishes with and hurries along, calling out your name when you fail to move with her. 

The long walk to the King and Queen’s quarters does little to steady your beating heart. It felt as though it was trying to jump out of your chest, abandoning you to deal with the consequences it caused. 

You knew this meeting had something to do with the Prince which made every step feel heavier and heavier, your feet practically dragging across the marble floors. The look on the Queen’s face as she sat primly on her chaise lounge sent your stomach into a series of flips. She was alone surprisingly, the King obviously tucked away in bed to leave his wife to unleash the storm of words she readied for you. Upon entering, your family got onto their knees, bowing low to the white haired woman with cold eyes. “Our Queen,” your father spoke first, adjusting his tone to sound like a child who was caught stealing a cookie; a tone that was laced with guilt and begged for forgiveness. 

“No more,” she says, her voice in direct contrast to your fathers: loud and shrill. “You will be the Prince’s personal servant no more,” she aims her rage towards you and you jump, your body beginning to shake when your brain finally processes the words she used. “Tonight was an embarrassment. Positively humiliating!” she grips the tea cup in her hand, knuckles turning white, “the King and I will stand for this no longer. You are to be moved to kitchen duty immediately! All contact with Satoru will cease tonight. I forbid you from ever being alone with him,” you’re shaking as she describes to you your new reality, unable to dodge the venomous sting of her words. “Disobey my orders child,” she insults you, attempting to put you down regardless of the fact you are just as old as her adult son, “-and you and your family will find yourselves on the streets, shunned by the people who are loyal to this kingdom,” You don’t look up, your eyes fixed on the plush rug of her study to hide the tears cascading down your cheeks, but you can feel both your parents tense at her words. She huffs, taking a pause to sip from her cup before continuing her speech. 

“I trust you aren’t so foolish as to think this little crush was going to become something more. The Prince may be infatuated now - but once his responsibilities sink in you will be nothing but his property. Forced to raise his children and scrub the forks that touch his lips,” You choke back a sob, desperately trying to hold it in until you make it back to the servant’s quarters. “You may be what he wants but you could never be what he needs. Your place in life ensures such. Satoru needs a wife of high status to continue our legacy. Your blood would just smear it,” she sighs, almost like the conversation was starting to bore her. “I trust you understand the words I am telling you. It’s your responsibility to ensure Satoru wants nothing to do with you. I don’t care how you do it, but this silly little infatuation he has must come to an end,” she says before she dismisses the three of you with a wave of her hand, turning her attention back to her book that rested in her lap as you sauntered off. 

You meet your parent’s eyes once you leave her study, their faces sunken in from stress. Looking at the both of them, it is obvious the sacrifices they made for you. Their hands were rough from decades of labor, their eyes dark from sleepless nights, and their clothes worn down from years of wear. You don’t give them the opportunity to speak, too scared of what they could say. “I’m sorry for the worry I have caused the both of you. I-,” your voice breaks but you steel yourself as best as you can, “I promise I won’t do anything more that may jeopardize our family’s honor.” You leave it at that, turning your back to them and heading to your room.

That night you cry enough tears to fill all of the Gojo’s ponds - and maybe even enough to water their gardens too before your exhaustion outweighs your pain and you drift off to sleep. 

taglist: @bubera974 𐙚 @dahliawarner 𐙚 @phoenixisdabest 𐙚 @designerpvssy 𐙚 @leaderwon 𐙚 @elilovesall 𐙚 @alicebleu 𐙚 @sleepykittycx 𐙚 @abcdbleh 𐙚 @waka-babe 𐙚

┊p1┊p2┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p3┊

(ty for all the support! comment to be added/removed)

[kymsys]

its still mermay somewhere…right? 🥺 okay, hear me out: what if suguru is an unhappy depressed prince. what if he is SO sad, he doesnt really mind if he…dies? and he is about to drown but then he meets gojo. satoru is a sirene who would actually kill humans, but instead of killing him he saves him ofc (bc suguru is fucking special ♥) and then its kinda nice that both of them end up being the opposite. the "killer" is saving and getting "tamed" and the one who wanted to die lives and starts seeing the joy in life again. suguru tries to teach gojo not to kill humans anymore and brings him other food instead. as a sirene gojo is a creature, who doesnt usually go to the hairdresser, thats why his hair is long! one day tho it gets tangeled SO BAD (cuz he gets caught in a fishernet) that suguru has to save him and then cut his hair. ofc he looks fucking ethereal afterwards ✨ ((suguru keeps gojo a secret btw)) (((fangs are hot)))

someone indulge with me in this?!!

[fvsm4x]

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 (you) !

synopsis. Prince Satoru has just come of age, and it’s tradition in his kingdom for the crown prince to be presented with potential suitors. Despite his power and prestige, he’s lived a life of strict rules and sheltered isolation, knowing little about romance and even less about pleasure. His parents arrange for a tutor to guide him on how to properly fuck and pleasure a partner

+ warnings/content. Prince! Gojo S. + tutor fem! reader - satoru is a virgin and inexperienced - virginity lose - p in v - feral gojo a bit - royal au - gojo has a big dick - oral (fem. receiving) - fingering - size difference a bit - gojo is pussydrunk - shy/soft gojo

+ word count. 9.1k (Oppsie daisy)

a/n. This is prolly one of my favs works so I HOPE U LIKE IT

banner by unknown (tell me if u know from who it is!!)

The doors to Prince Satoru’s chambers loomed before you, tall and intricately carved, a testament to the wealth and grandeur of the palace. Your fingers hovered just above the handle, and you took a steadying breath, reminding yourself of the role you were about to step into. The position was an unusual one, to say the least—both highly honored and slightly scandalous, whispered about only behind closed doors and far from the ears of the public.

When the queen had summoned you, you’d expected to be given a task of courtly refinement—perhaps tutoring Prince Satoru in diplomacy or etiquette, something befitting his status. But the court had other plans. Prince Satoru was soon to come of age, and despite his immense power and status, he had led a remarkably sheltered life. Royal duty dictated that he was to be groomed for the throne, but there was more to kingship than formalities and court rituals. To make matters more complicated, it was tradition that the crown prince be well-versed in… more intimate knowledge.

And so, here you were—his tutor for this secret, delicate subject. The court deemed it crucial that Satoru gain a proper understanding of how to navigate romantic and physical intimacy, skills thought essential to his future rule. And though this education would be handled with the utmost discretion, the weight of it wasn’t lost on you. This was about more than teaching the young prince; it was about shaping the experiences that would prepare him for life, even if it meant starting with things he’d never before dared to touch

One of the royal guards gave you a nod, signaling that the prince awaited inside, and with that final reassurance, you pushed open the heavy doors.

The room was grand, adorned with tapestries of deep blue and golds, velvet curtains framing the windows to keep prying eyes out. Soft candlelight bathed the chamber, casting warm, flickering shadows that seemed to make the room feel smaller, more intimate. And there, in the midst of it all, stood Prince Satoru.

He looked as regal as ever, his white hair falling around his shoulders in soft waves that caught the light, yet his expression was tense, the lines of his jaw just slightly taut as he took in your arrival. He stood tall, shoulders straight, but there was a nervous energy about him, a flicker of uncertainty in his piercing blue eyes. For all his power, he was, in this moment, simply a young man facing something entirely foreign.

He looked almost hesitant, his fingers curling at his sides as he took a few tentative steps forward.

“Are you… the tutor?” he asked, his voice soft but clear.

You bowed, folding your hands in front of you. “Yes, Your Highness. I’m honored to serve you.”

He returned your bow with a slight nod, his gaze hesitant but unwavering. “Thank you for coming,” he replied, his voice quiet and just a little rough around the edges. After a pause, he continued, “And please— call me satoru.”

You blinked at him before replying,“of course, Satoru.“

He continued,“I understand you’re here to… teach me certain things

There was a vulnerability to his words, as if he were admitting some private, embarrassing truth, and you felt a flicker of sympathy. “Yes,” you said softly, taking a step closer. “I’m here to help you learn at your own pace. We don’t have to rush anything. It’s perfectly normal to have questions, and we can take things one step at a time.”

He let out a breath, and a faint, almost sheepish smile flickered across his lips. “That’s… good to know,” he murmured. “To be honest, I’m not sure where to begin. I’ve read about some of it—romance, intimacy—but it always seemed… different in stories. Simpler. Or maybe more dramatic.” He paused, then quickly added, “But I have no practical experience. I don’t even know what’s expected of me.”

Was he really that inexperienced?

It was hard for you to believe. Prince Satoru was strikingly attractive, with an air of confidence that most people would expect from someone well-versed in such matters. Yet here he was, seeming genuinely lost. You’d have guessed he at least knew the basics—how to start, how to read a moment. But the way he looked at you, the way his questions hovered in the air with such uncertainty, made it clear that he truly knew next to nothing.

You nodded, taking in his words. “That’s perfectly alright,“

Satoru’s gaze flicked away, almost as if embarrassed by his own curiosity. “It’s strange. I’m supposed to lead a kingdom, yet I feel so… out of place when it comes to this.” His eyes returned to yours, vulnerable but resolute. “It feels almost… childish, not knowing these things.”

You smiled gently. “It’s not childish at all, satoru. You’ve been raised in a very particular way, with rules and responsibilities that few can understand. Besides, being inexperienced doesn’t make you any less capable.”

He studied you closely, his intense blue eyes absorbing your words, as if testing their weight before trusting them. There was a softening in his expression, a subtle shift from wary curiosity to a quiet resolve. “I think I understand,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… where do I start? What do I need to know?”

Slowly, you stepped closer, letting him feel your presence before you closed the distance entirely. Your hand hovered in the air, close enough for him to notice, but not so close as to assume his permission. “May I?” you asked, your tone gentle but firm, a reassurance that he was in control of every moment.

He seemed caught off guard, his gaze briefly dropping to your hand before meeting your eyes again. There was a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps a bit of nervous anticipation—but he nodded, his voice soft yet steady. “Of course.”

You reached forward, your fingers just grazing his hand, warm and slightly tense under your touch. Slowly, you guided his hand toward your waist, resting it there carefully. His fingers settled against you, his grip hesitant but steady. His hand was large, enveloping the curve of your waist, and the warmth of his skin seeped through the fabric, grounding both of you in this small, shared moment.

Satoru’s hand flexed, his fingers instinctively pressing into the soft give of your waist. His touch was cautious, like he was still testing the sensation, and you could feel him catch his breath. His eyes flickered down, watching his own hand as if seeing it in this position was almost surreal. Then his gaze lifted to yours, his expression a mix of awe and a little self-consciousness, like he was realizing just how new all of this felt to him.

For a moment, time seemed to still, the air thick with something unspoken. His fingers remained gently on your waist, his grip firm but careful. His eyes held yours, searching for something—maybe understanding, maybe comfort.

You felt the heat of his gaze as his eyes lingered on you, his expression searching, as if trying to find reassurance or perhaps permission. His attention felt heavy, intense, and you could feel your cheeks warming, a faint blush creeping over you. You forced yourself to brush it aside, focusing on him, on the quiet yet clear connection between you.

Drawing a breath, you leaned in, rising onto your toes until your face was just inches from his. Your eyes dropped to his lips, your gaze lingering there for just a second too long, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. His eyes fluttered shut, and his fingers dug slightly into your waist, pulling you in closer with an unexpected urgency. Your breaths mingled in the narrow space between you before his lips met yours in a rush of movement.

The kiss was messy, uncoordinated, almost clumsy in its eagerness. His lips pressed hard against yours, his movements lacking the practiced finesse of experience but carrying a raw intensity that made up for it. He kissed you with an almost desperate enthusiasm, his lips parting messily against yours, the faint taste of his breath mingling with your own. There was a wetness to the kiss, his inexperience clear in the way he seemed to lose himself, following only instinct rather than skill. He kissed you with unabashed need, a little too much spit and an endearing awkwardness in the way his mouth moved against yours.

You could feel his inexperience, the way he struggled to find a rhythm, his lips and tongue a bit too eager, too messy. But there was a certain sweetness to it, a sincerity that made the kiss feel even more intimate. It was unrefined, almost childlike in its enthusiasm, yet it was deeply honest—a kiss from someone exploring a world he’d never known, trying to understand it one uncertain step at a time.

Slowly, you brought your hand up to his face, brushing your fingers along his jawline, gently guiding him to slow down. You felt his breathing hitch at the soft touch, and his lips stilled for a moment, eyes fluttering open to meet yours. His gaze held a mixture of surprise and something more vulnerable—a spark of uncertainty, as though he was asking if he was doing things right.

“You’re doing just fine,” you whispered, your words a gentle reassurance. You could see the tension ease from his expression, the smallest hint of relief softening his gaze. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and gave you a shy smile that felt so out of place on someone as commanding as him, yet so fitting in this moment.

With your guidance, he leaned in again, his movements now a bit more measured, a touch gentler. His lips met yours with newfound purpose, still a little messy, but now slower, as though savoring each second. This time, he lingered, allowing the kiss to unfold naturally, his lips brushing against yours with a sweet, unhurried warmth.

Your hands slid to rest on his shoulders, fingers tracing the lines of his frame, feeling the subtle tremor under his skin as he let himself fall into the moment. The kiss grew deeper, a quiet exploration, as though he were learning you, learning this intimacy he’d never experienced before. And in that moment, it felt like there was only the two of you—caught in this delicate exchange, each touch building a fragile new understanding.

After a long, breathless pause, he drew back, his expression softened yet still intense, eyes clouded with newfound desire. His lips, now slightly swollen from the kiss, parted as he looked at you, as if searching for something—permission, maybe, or reassurance. His hand remained at your waist, fingers tightening gently, grounding himself in the unfamiliar intimacy that had formed between you.

Without another word, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was harder, more confident than before, as though the hesitation had melted away. His hands slid down your waist, fingers tracing the shape of your body until they reached the back of your thighs. In one smooth movement, he lifted you, his strength evident as he held you firmly. A gasp escaped your lips, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his neck for support as he carried you with ease.

Your back met the cool, solid surface of the wall, and you felt a rush of heat at the sudden closeness, the way his body pressed against yours, anchoring you there. His hands, still beneath your thighs, slid upward slightly, fingers grazing the curve of your ass before giving it a small, tentative squeeze. The unexpected boldness of the touch sent a spark through you, and your breath hitched, a faint blush coloring your cheeks.

His lips found yours again, and he kissed you with a fervor that felt worlds away from the shyness he’d shown moments before. His mouth moved against yours with a raw intensity, devouring each kiss, leaving no space between you. You felt the heat radiating from him, the rhythm of his breaths growing heavier as he pressed himself closer, as though wanting to close any lingering distance between you.

The contrast was dizzying—just moments ago, he’d been so cautious, uncertain in every touch, every glance. And now here he was, holding you in his arms, his kisses almost desperate as if he’d found something he didn’t want to let go of. You clung to him, fingers tangling in his hair as you let yourself sink into the warmth of his embrace, the steady, grounding pressure of his hands keeping you anchored against him.

He kissed you with a fervor that left you breathless, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that seemed to grow with each passing second. His fingers tightened on your ass, his grip steady and possessive, pressing you more firmly against the wall as though he wanted to keep you there, close, unmovable. You could feel his heartbeat, fast and heavy, mirroring your own.

His mouth left yours only for a moment, his lips brushing along your jaw, trailing down to the curve of your neck. Each kiss was a mix of soft and hurried, as if he were savoring the taste of your skin but couldn’t quite hold back his growing desire. His breath was hot against your neck, and you felt a shiver run through you as his lips lingered there, taking his time to explore, to feel you.

The way he held you felt powerful yet tentative, as if he was discovering just what he could do, and it sent a thrill through you. You felt the tension in his hold, the slight tremble in his fingertips betraying a mix of nervous excitement and unrestrained want.

You whispered his name softly, and he stilled for a moment, lifting his head to look at you. His eyes, usually so confident and sharp, held a softness, a vulnerability that made your heart race. He seemed to study you, his gaze searching your face, as if he needed to see that you were still with him, still wanting this as much as he did.

“S’toru…” you murmured agaib, your voice barely a whisper, filled with all the unspoken reassurance and encouragement you could offer. He swallowed, his cheeks faintly flushed, and gave a small, hesitant smile, looking a little relieved, a little emboldened

With newfound determination, he pulled you closer, his lips capturing yours once more, this time slower, savoring the moment.

As Satoru’s kisses grew deeper and more assured, the intensity between you became undeniable, and you could feel his breathing growing heavier. His hands roamed along your thighs, fingers grazing over the fabric of your clothes, and each touch seemed to carry a little more heat, a little more urgency.

Then, suddenly, you felt it—a subtle but unmistakable pressure against your stomach. His hips had shifted closer in his fervor, and now you could feel him pressing against you, hard and undeniable. The realization made a shiver run through you, and you felt your own face flush, heart pounding at the sudden intimacy of it.

Satoru froze for a moment, as if only now aware of the way his body was reacting. His cheeks turned a deep shade of red, and he swallowed, his breath catching as he struggled to pull himself back, an awkward smile tugging at his lips.

“I… didn’t mean…” he stammered, clearly embarrassed, his gaze dropping as though he didn’t quite know how to handle his own reactions.

But before he could pull away, you brought a hand to his cheek, brushing your thumb gently along his skin, letting him know it was okay. “It’s alright,” you whispered, voice soft and reassuring. “Do what you please.“

He looked at you, relief mingling with something deeper, a flicker of excitement shining in his eyes. He leaned in, his lips meeting yours again, this time with a slower, more deliberate passion. As he deepened the kiss, his body pressed closer, and he stopped resisting the way his hips aligned with yours, letting himself feel the closeness without overthinking it.

Your hands slid over his shoulders, steadying yourself against him, feeling the strength in his frame as he held you, his body tense with barely restrained desire. The pressure against your stomach grew, a steady reminder of the effect you were having on him, and you could feel his hesitance melting away bit by bit. His kisses grew bolder, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you closer, as though he didn’t want any distance left between you.

,S‘toru” you whispered against his lips, voice breathy and soft, and he drew in a shaky breath, his eyes heavy-lidded, as though he was barely keeping himself grounded. He was fighting to stay in control, to process the new sensations flooding through him, but he could hardly hold back.

“Feels s‘ good…” he murmured, his voice a low, shaky whisper. Slowly, his hips moved, pressing into you, creating a delicious friction as his hardness rubbed against you, even through the layers of clothing. The movement was tentative but grew more confident with each slow thrust, his breath hitching as he sank deeper into the feeling. His lips found the side of your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses there, letting his lips map the curve of your skin.

A quiet whimper escaped you, unintentional yet undeniable, and he froze, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes, still filled with that raw need, softened slightly, as if wanting to make sure he hadn’t gone too far. But when he heard the faint, breathy sound again as his lips brushed over the same spot, he seemed to realize just how much his touch affected you. A flicker of excitement flashed in his gaze, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to your neck again, this time more deliberately, letting his tongue graze the sensitive skin.

You whimpered again, the sound slipping from your lips before you could stop it, and you brought a hand to your mouth, instinctively trying to muffle the sound. But he reached up, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, pulling your hand away with a gentle yet firm hold. His gaze held an intensity that made your heart skip.

“Wanna hear ‘em… your moans,” he muttered, his voice low, the words dripping with newfound confidence. He leaned in, his lips trailing back to your neck, and this time, his tongue traced slow, heated lines against your skin, savoring the way you shivered beneath his touch.

Each kiss, each brush of his lips, became bolder, more purposeful, as though he was learning exactly how to make you feel every single touch. His hips continued to press against you in slow, unhurried movements, creating a rhythm that sent sparks through your entire body.

His fingers, which had gripped your Thighs with a firm intensity, began to trail upward, brushing against the fabric of your shirt. With his breath warm against your skin, he paused, looking up at you for a moment, his gaze filled with a mix of excitement and curiosity.

His hand moved to the top button of your shirt, fingers slightly trembling as he hesitated. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching for any hint of uncertainty. When you gave him a soft nod, a silent reassurance, his face softened, and with that, he began to slowly undo the buttons, one by one, his gaze never leaving yours as though anchoring himself in the trust you shared.

His breath caught as he reached the last button, letting your shirt slip from your shoulders to pool at your feet.

His gaze dropped, and his eyes widened, filled with awe as he took in the sight of you. His hands, initially tentative, began to trace gentle patterns along your shoulders and collarbone, his touch warm and reverent. He seemed captivated, almost in disbelief, as his fingertips trailed downward, lingering at the curve of your breasts.

Satoru swallowed hard, his cheeks flushed as he looked up at you, his gaze both shy and filled with wonder. “You’re… so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, as if he feared speaking too loudly might shatter the moment. With a hesitant hand, he reached out, his palm gently covering the soft curve of your breast, his touch both tender and careful, as though you were something precious.

Leaning in, his lips brushed softly against your skin just above your heart, leaving a trail of warm, reverent kisses as he explored with growing confidence. His hand, which had rested at the curve of your breast, wandered over the full softness, squeezing with a tentative pressure that sent warmth flooding through you. His thumb and forefinger found your nipple, giving a small, instinctive pinch.

The sharp pleasure made you gasp, a moan slipping from your lips, but you couldn’t help flinching at the unexpected intensity. “Not ser‘ hard… they’re sensitive,” you murmured, gently pulling his hand back. He froze, meeting your gaze with an apologetic expression, his face flushed even deeper.

“ sorry..” he whispered, genuine remorse in his voice, but the look in his eyes was also filled with curiosity and need. Without a second thought, he lowered his head, bringing himself level with your chest, and his lips brushed over your sensitive skin in a soft, almost reverent kiss.

Satoru’s lips wrapped around your nipple, his warm mouth enveloping the sensitive peak. He kissed it softly, savoring the taste of your skin, his tongue flicking out to tease you gently. The sensation sent electric currents racing through you, and you gasped, arching into him, encouraging him to continue.

As he continued to explore, he paused for a moment, pulling back slightly to look up at you with wide, earnest eyes. “I’m really sorry for being too rough,” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine remorse.

Then, as if his apology extended beyond you and into your body, he turned his attention back to your nipple, planting a soft kiss on it. “You just look s‘ perfect,” he added, the words barely escaping his lips.

He resumed his gentle kisses, trailing his mouth over the delicate skin around your breast, still mindful of your sensitivity. Each kiss was filled with a newfound tenderness, as if he was not only trying to please you but also to make amends. “Please forgive me,” he whispered against your skin, his breath warm, brushing over you like a gentle caress.

With each delicate kiss, he continued to express his reverence, kissing your nipple again softly as though it were a cherished treasure. “I promise to be better,” he vowed, his gaze intent, as if making a sacred promise to both you and your body. He lavished attention on your breast, his lips trailing kisses that were sweet and reverent, the gentle pressure of his mouth a stark contrast to the earlier clumsiness.

You couldn’t help but giggle softly at his earnestness, feeling a warmth spread through you, not just from his touch but from his sincerity. “You’re doing just fine, you‘re just learning afterall.” you reassured him, your voice breathy and filled with affection.

His eyes lit up at your encouragement, and he dove back in, his lips returning to your nipple, kissing it with a newfound tenderness, allowing the moment to envelop you both.

from your breast to your collarbone and back again, savoring each reaction he drew from you. The warmth of his mouth sent shivers down your spine, igniting a desire that only grew stronger.

But suddenly, he pulled back, his eyes shimmering with a mixture of excitement and determination. He gently wrapped his arms around you once ahain, lifting you with surprising strength.

He carried you effortlessly across the room, your heart racing as you held onto him, feeling the strength in his arms. The thrill of being so close to him, both physically and emotionally, sent a rush of warmth through you. As he approached the bed, he leaned down, carefully laying you onto the soft mattress, his gaze never leaving yours.

Once he set you down, he paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you stretched out before him. His heart raced in response to the intimacy of the moment, his breath hitching as he drank you in. “You’re really beautiful,” he whispered again, as if he couldn’t help but marvel at you.

Satoru leaned over you, propping himself up on his forearms, his gaze filled with a mix of admiration and longing. His fingers brushed through your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear, and he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours.

He pressed his lips against yours again, kissing you deeply as if trying to convey all the emotions swirling within him. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if memorizing every detail of you. You felt his weight resting against you, warm and safe, and it filled you with a sense of comfort and exhilaration.

As the kiss deepened, his hands wandered, fingers tracing along your sides and down your arms, drawing you into the warmth of the moment. He seemed to lose himself in you, his kisses growing more passionate, yet still tender, as if he were balancing the thrill of desire with a profound respect for the connection you were building together.

Satoru pulled back slightly, his breathing uneven, and looked down at you with an expression that held a perfect blend of desire and vulnerability. His eyes softened, and a flicker of concern appeared as he took in your face. “Are… are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with an almost shy uncertainty. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

Your heart swelled at the thoughtfulness in his tone, and you nodded, feeling a warm sense of safety in his presence. “I’m fine,” you murmured softly, reaching up to brush a reassuring hand along his arm. “I should be asking you that.”

He nodded, his gaze briefly meeting yours before looking away, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I’m… I’m okay,” he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper, almost as if he were still processing his own feelings. After a beat, he hesitated, then glanced back at you with a hint of nervous curiosity. “What should I do now?”

You sat up slightly, leaning forward so you could hold his gaze, though he quickly looked down, the blush deepening on his face. “Pull your clothes off,” you instructed softly, giving him a small, encouraging smile. “But leave your underwear on.”

Satoru’s eyes widened at your words, the blush spreading rapidly across his cheeks, almost as if he hadn’t quite expected the suggestion. “Yeah… okay,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of nerves and excitement as he reached for the hem of his shirt, hesitating only briefly before he began to lift it.

His hands trembled ever so slightly as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the toned lines of his chest and shoulders. His skin was warm, slightly flushed, and he kept his gaze averted, as if trying to gather the courage to keep going. He let the shirt fall to the floor, then took a deep breath before moving to undo his pants, casting a quick glance in your direction as if seeking reassurance.

When he saw your soft, encouraging expression, he continued, pushing his pants down and stepping out of them, leaving only his underwear as you’d requested. His movements were tentative, almost shy, but there was a certain determination in his actions that spoke of his trust in you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you watched Satoru, your heart pounding in sync with his as he settled in beside you. His eyes lingered on you, filled with curiosity and an unmistakable nervousness, though he gave you a shy smile when you met his gaze.

With a reassuring nod, you began to reach down, fingers slipping to the waistband of your pants. His eyes followed your movements, captivated, as you slowly slid the fabric down your hips, exposing the soft skin of your legs. You kicked the pants aside, leaving you in only your underwear, mirroring him. His breath hitched as his gaze roamed over you, the admiration in his eyes unmistakable.

Now both in only your most vulnerable layers, you shifted back on the bed, motioning for him to come closer. Satoru followed, his movements tentative but filled with a certain eagerness, as though he was soaking in every detail of the moment.

He settled between your legs, his body hovering above yours as he propped himself up on his hands. His eyes were wide, sincere, holding a quiet wonder that made your heart flutter. He seemed to lose himself in the moment, drinking in the sight of you with a softness that was almost reverent.

You reached up, placing a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat racing beneath your fingertips. His breaths were shallow, matching yours in rhythm, and a slight shiver ran through him at your touch. “Just take it slow,” you whispered, your voice soft, reassuring, as you leaned in close enough that your breaths mingled, faces only inches apart. “We don’t have to rush.”

He nodded, swallowing as his gaze remained locked with yours. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with gratitude and awe. Tentatively, he brought his hand to your waist, his fingers brushing over your skin with a gentleness that spoke of both caution and growing confidence. His touch was almost feather-light, his fingertips tracing small circles as though memorizing each curve and dip. You felt his hand tighten slightly, pulling you closer, grounding himself in the warmth of your body against his.

You leaned up, closing the space between you to press a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger there as you savored the warmth of his skin. Satoru’s eyes fluttered closed, and he exhaled a shaky breath, leaning into your touch, almost as if he were melting under your care.

When you pulled back just slightly, he turned his head to face you, his expression filled with an intense, tender gaze. His eyes flickered down to your lips, and for a brief moment, he hesitated, his lips parted as if caught between nervousness and longing. Finally, he leaned in, brushing his lips over yours in a kiss that was both tender and exploratory, filled with a sweetness that made your heart race. He kissed you slowly, savoring every second, as though he wanted to remember this moment forever.

His hands began to wander from your waist to your hips, his fingers tracing along the curve where your underwear sat against your skin. He paused, his fingertips grazing along the line of fabric, hesitating, as if seeking permission. You could feel his hand trembling slightly, both from his excitement and his nerves, his fingers brushing over the skin just above the waistband before moving back down.

Satoru’s gaze was locked on yours, his eyes a mixture of wonder and nervousness as his hands continued their tentative exploration along the edge of your underwear. He seemed to be gathering courage, his fingers tracing gentle, almost reverent patterns across your skin. Your own hand covered his, a soft reminder, and you murmured, “You can take them off, y’know…”

He paused, visibly swallowing, his blush deepening. “Yes… yes, I know,” he replied, voice barely a whisper as he gathered the courage to slide the fabric down your hips. He moved slowly, carefully, as if savoring every second. When your underwear finally slipped from your legs, he let it fall from the bed, his gaze turning back to you with a new, unguarded vulnerability.

When he looked down, his gaze dipped between your legs as you spread them slightly, giving him space to take in the sight of you. He was visibly struck by the intimacy of the moment, a hint of awe flickering in his eyes, and you could feel the weight of his gaze, making you equally self-conscious and drawn to his quiet, genuine curiosity.

This wasn’t something you’d ever imagined doing, especially not as a tutor. The queen’s request had surprised you, and even as you’d agreed to guide him, you’d never anticipated how intense and meaningful this moment would feel. But with Satoru, there was a warmth and care that put you at ease—a softness in him that made you want to help him learn, to give him this experience.

Satoru’s breath was uneven as he drew his hands up your thighs, the warmth of his touch making your skin tingle. His thumbs moved slowly, pulling your legs apart just a little more, his touch almost reverent as he brushed his thumb against the delicate skin of your inner thigh. The sensation made you shiver, a small gasp escaping you.

His gaze never left yours as he brought his hands to your center, his fingers trembling slightly as he parted your folds with his thumbs, exposing your most sensitive area to the cool air. You let out a quiet gasp at the sensation, your breath catching as he focused on the glistening sight before him, his eyes filled with awe. He seemed mesmerized, watching the way your body reacted, the soft, pulsing invitation of your skin against his touch.

For a moment, he simply watched,

Satoru’s fingers trembled slightly as he held you open, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and uncertainty. His gaze flickered to yours, a question forming on his lips. “I… I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do next,” he admitted softly, his cheeks flushed, looking for guidance as he tried to understand how to please you.

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his, your touch steadying him. “It’s okay,” you murmured, giving him a soft smile. “I can show you.”

He swallowed, nodding as he leaned in closer, visibly eager to learn. “Where should I start?” he asked, his voice low and sincere.

You held his gaze, feeling a sense of warmth at his openness. “See here?” you murmured, gently guiding his thumb to a small, sensitive spot at the apex of your folds. “This is the clit—it’s the most sensitive part, and it responds a lot to touch. You’ll want to start by focusing here.”

Satoru’s eyes lit with newfound understanding, his gaze turning to admiration as he looked down, processing your words carefully. His thumb brushed experimentally over the wet spot, his movements slow and cautious. You let out a soft, encouraging sigh, and he glanced up, his expression almost childlike in its intensity, clearly focused on learning how to make you feel good.

“So, you have to… prepare someone, right?” he asked, as if confirming his understanding. “Before anything else?”

You nodded, your voice soft. “Yes. You prepare a woman for… more,” you said, feeling a blush heat your cheeks. “Touching, kissing, and things like this—all of that helps get her ready, so it’s more comfortable. You have options, too. You could use your fingers, your mouth, or both… whatever feels natural for you.”

He seemed to absorb every word, nodding slowly, his brows furrowing with concentration. “I think I understand,” he murmured, his gaze flicking between your eyes and the sensitive spot he’d just discovered.

Satoru leaned in, his thumb brushing over your clit again, this time with more confidence, his movements gentle yet focused. You let out a soft sound, and he paused, eyes widening in wonder. He glanced up at you, a small, satisfied smile forming on his lips as he realized he’d done something right.

He leaned in, closer than before, pressing a slow, reverent kiss to your inner thigh, letting his lips linger, and you could feel the warmth of his breath as he explored with a gentle touch. You could tell he was savoring every new sensation, every slight shift and soft sigh. With each kiss, he grew bolder, moving closer to your core, his hands still steady on your thighs as he continued his careful approach.

Then, his lips brushed over your folds, his breath hitching as he pressed a lingering, almost worshipful kiss there. “So soft,” he murmured, sounding as if he were speaking more to himself than to you, awe evident in his voice. His mouth moved lower, placing another slow kiss before he began to taste you, his tongue moving hesitantly at first, as if familiarizing himself with each inch.

The first gentle stroke of his tongue made you gasp softly, and Satoru’s eyes flicked up, eager to see your reaction. Seeing the pleasure in your expression, he smiled, a slight, bashful grin, and leaned in further, letting his tongue explore with more confidence. The way he worked his mouth over you, savoring every taste, every sound you made, spoke to the intense curiosity and focus he was channeling into each motion.

“Fuck—” he whispered, his voice thick and slightly shaky, pulling back for a moment to catch his breath. His face was flushed, his pupils dilated as he looked at you with something close to worship. “Pussy’s s‘ sweet— tastes ser’ good,” he murmured, almost to himself, before diving back in with a new kind of hunger.

His tongue found your clit this time, pressing gently before giving it a soft, experimental bite that sent a shock of pleasure through you, making you arch into him. He continued, lapping at you with slow, broad strokes, as if he couldn’t get enough. His hands slid up, gripping your hips and pulling you even closer as he kissed and licked every inch, fully lost in the experience.

He seemed completely intoxicated by your taste, by the way your body responded to him. Each movement of his mouth became more confident, more eager, as he continued his relentless exploration, his tongue swirling around your clit before lapping at your entrance again, catching every bit of wetness as if it were precious. Satoru was utterly lost in you, pressing closer and moaning softly into your skin, entirely absorbed in the pleasure he was bringing you.

His hand slipped back to your thigh, gently squeezing as his mouth worked in perfect rhythm

Satoru’s grip on your thighs tightened as he became even more engrossed, his mouth moving over you with a hungry, eager rhythm. His eyes flickered up every so often, watching your reactions with an almost boyish awe as he learned exactly what made you gasp and arch into him. Each sound you made seemed to spur him on, fueling his growing confidence as his tongue moved with more purpose, more intent.

He let his tongue glide up from your entrance to your clit in slow, drawn-out strokes, savoring every taste, as though he couldn’t get enough. “Ser‘ good,” he murmured between breaths, his voice thick and heavy, almost reverent. “Can’t believe�� fuck- how perfect ya taste.” His words were laced with genuine awe, and each syllable seemed to sink into you, heightening the warmth building deep in your core.

His lips wrapped around your clit then, and he sucked gently, sending waves of pleasure radiating through you. You gasped, fingers tangling in his soft hair, tugging him closer as your hips moved instinctively toward him, urging him deeper. Satoru moaned softly at the feeling of your hands in his hair, the vibrations of his voice against you only adding to the sensation.

“Just like that,” you whispered, your voice shaky as he continued, his enthusiasm and care blending into a perfect, overwhelming rhythm. He responded by doubling down, his lips pressing more firmly, his tongue flicking and circling, as if every movement were a way to learn how to make you feel even better.

As he continued, Satoru looked up at you again, his gaze dark with desire yet softened with admiration. “You taste like… everything I’ve ever wanted,” he mumbled against you, his voice muffled, but full of devotion. He leaned in once more, mouth covering you completely, tongue moving in long, slow strokes, savoring every drop and every reaction.

He became almost methodical, his mouth working in steady, purposeful motions, alternating between licking and gentle sucking, pulling quiet moans from your lips with every movement. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you steady as he continued his eager exploration, his mouth mapping every inch of you, each touch bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Finally, as his pace quickened and his movements became less restrained, you felt the growing heat build to a near breaking point. Your hips bucked against him, and he only gripped you tighter, pressing his mouth more firmly against you, tongue swirling and lips pressing as he pushed you right to the brink, lost in the need to give you everything he could.

Satoru’s eyes never left yours as he continued, his focus unwavering. Every gasp, every arch of your back seemed to spur him on, and as he watched you getting closer, a new determination filled his gaze. His hands slid up your inner thighs, his fingers brushing over your skin with a light touch before hesitating at your entrance. He glanced up, silently asking for permission, and at your encouraging nod, he took a deep breath, pressing a finger against your slick entrance.

Slowly, carefully, he pushed inside, his movements tentative as he watched your expression, making sure you were comfortable. His finger slid deeper, and he marveled at how warm and soft you felt, his gaze full of awe as he worked his finger gently, moving in time with the soft caresses of his mouth.

“Is… this okay?” he whispered, voice low and unsure, yet filled with genuine care. The gentle curve of his finger inside you was cautious, and when you let out a quiet moan in response, he seemed relieved, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Yes, s‘toru,” you murmured, voice thick with desire, encouraging him to continue.

Emboldened, he began moving his finger slowly, curling it inside you as he searched for the spots that made you shiver. His mouth returned to your clit, tongue flicking in gentle, deliberate strokes, the combination of his movements creating a steady, delicious rhythm. Each motion was measured, his focus absolute as he seemed to get lost in the feel of you around him, the way your body responded to every touch.

As he gained confidence, he added another finger, stretching you just slightly, his gaze still attentive, looking for any hint of discomfort. But when he saw only pleasure in your expression, his movements grew a little bolder. His fingers curved and pressed deeper, brushing that sensitive spot within you, sending a wave of pleasure through your body that had you clinging to his shoulders.

“God, pussy‘s s‘… perfect,” he breathed against you, his tone filled with reverence, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. His fingers pumped steadily, his mouth following their rhythm, drawing out soft moans that seemed to intoxicate him further.

Each gentle thrust of his fingers, each flick of his tongue was filled with growing intensity, a desire that seemed to drive him to bring you closer and closer to release. His face, now completely flushed, showed a newfound hunger as he became entirely engrossed in every moan

Your body tensed as Satoru’s fingers curled inside you, pressing perfectly against that sensitive spot, his mouth still worshipping your clit with a relentless rhythm. The pleasure built rapidly, each movement of his fingers and every flick of his tongue intensifying the sensation until it became overwhelming.

Your breath hitched, and you felt yourself teetering right on the edge. “Satoru… I’m close…” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. He looked up at you, his eyes darkening with both determination and awe, as if he couldn’t believe he was the one bringing you to this point. Encouraged, he kept going, maintaining that steady pace, his fingers pumping and curling with just the right pressure, his mouth warm and relentless against your clit.

Your body arched, and the pleasure surged through you in a powerful wave. A gasp escaped your lips, turning into a cry of pure ecstasy as you reached your climax, your body trembling under his touch. Satoru didn’t stop, his fingers and mouth working you through every second, letting you ride out the pleasure fully, his gaze fixed on you, captivated by every reaction.

He slowed only as he felt your body begin to relax, his fingers gradually easing their rhythm until they finally stilled. His lips pressed one last, tender kiss against your clit before he withdrew his hand. You watched, breathless, as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean, savoring every taste as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Pussy’s so sweet,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a mix of awe and raw need thickening his tone. His pupils were blown wide, his face covered in the remnants of your release, and he made no effort to hide his pleasure, licking his lips, his tongue tracing over the faint glisten left on his chin. “Want more…” he breathed, voice low and desperate, as if even this closeness wasn’t enough to satisfy the pull he felt toward you.

With a shuddering breath, he shifted, his hands moving to his briefs, and without hesitation, he slid them off, tossing them somewhere off the bed. He wrapped a hand around himself, giving a few slow, steady strokes, his own arousal now fully bared before you.

You couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped your lips as you took him in. He was big—thicker and longer than you’d expected, his arousal flushed with a deep, heated pink at the tip, beads of precum already forming and trailing down along the pale, veined length. The sight alone made you clench in anticipation, a mix of nerves and longing swirling within you.

Satoru looked down at you, his cheeks and chest flushed, the intensity in his eyes making him look almost dazed, drunk on the need coursing through him. “Can’t… can’t wait any longer—” he murmured, a slight tremor in his voice. He leaned closer, his tip brushing against your clit in a teasing tap, smearing his precum around your entrance.

“Please,” he whispered, almost as if pleading. “Please… let me… I need to feel you. Need to be inside…”

You felt his desperation in every word, his restraint fraying with every second that passed. His gaze held yours, dark and pleading, and you gave him a soft nod, granting him the permission he so earnestly sought.

“Please…” he whispered again, positioning himself carefully, his gaze never leaving yours, even as he slowly began to press forward, inch by aching inch.

A shiver ran through Satoru as he began to sink into you, every inch he pressed forward met with a quiet gasp or soft sigh that only seemed to make him more desperate. He moved slowly, his gaze fixed on your face as if wanting to memorize every reaction. The stretch was intense, his thickness filling you in a way that had you curling your fingers into the sheets, and he took his time, his movements careful and deliberate as he entered you.

“God���” he whispered, a tremor in his voice as he tried to keep his control, his brows knitting together in concentration. His hands found your hips, gripping firmly but gently, anchoring himself as he slid further. He exhaled shakily, and his breathing turned ragged, his lips parting as he lost himself in the feeling. “Feels so good…*hic* better than I imagined—” he murmured, almost to himself, as if he couldn’t believe he was actually inside you.

As soon as Satoru pressed fully inside you, he froze, his whole body tensing as if he’d been struck by lightning. The heat, the way your walls clung to him, warm and tight, had his eyes fluttering shut, his head falling back in pure, unfiltered bliss. A deep groan escaped his lips, raw and needy, and he gripped your hips so tightly you could feel the tremor in his fingers.

“Fuck—” he choked out, his voice thick, barely coherent, as he tried to process the overwhelming sensation. His head dropped forward, gaze dazed, his pupils blown wide as he looked at you, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was feeling. “So… s’ fucking tight,” he muttered, almost in disbelief, his words catching as his hips gave an involuntary thrust. “God—you’re… clenching around me so perfectly—”

You felt his fingers digging into your hips as he rocked into you again, the motion instinctive, almost primal. His restraint shattered in an instant, and he began moving with a newfound hunger, his hips snapping against yours with an intensity that had his head spinning. Each thrust made his eyes flutter, his lips parting as he gasped for breath, his mind barely able to focus on anything but the sensation of you wrapped around him

He buried himself deeper, his pace turning relentless, desperate. His lips found your neck, teeth grazing over your skin as he panted, “Feel so fucking good, can’t—can’t stop…fuck!” He sounded wrecked, completely undone, his tone almost pleading as he kept moving, his rhythm wild and unrestrained.

Satoru’s eyes rolled back as he lost himself in the feeling, the pleasure flooding through him too intense to control. “Pussy’s so *hic* warm,” he slurred, his words muffled as his lips brushed over your skin, his hips pressing into you harder, needier, every sound you made only pushing him further. Each thrust felt deeper than the last, his breaths ragged, desperate as he surrendered completely, letting the sensation consume him.

Satoru’s movements became a frenzy, his hips snapping against yours with a desperation that was almost uncontrollable, his breathing erratic and voice reduced to hoarse groans. Every inch of you enveloped him in a warmth so tight that his composure shattered with each thrust, his hands gripping you as if afraid to let go.

“Fuck—can’t… can’t get enough,” he mumbled, his voice rough, eyes half-lidded as he stared down at you with a dazed, almost feral hunger. His mouth found yours, capturing your lips in a feverish kiss, messy and demanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he kissed you deeply. He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath coming in heavy pants as he looked at you, captivated, overwhelmed.

Your moans and gasps only fueled him, every sound you made seeming to push him further over the edge. His hands roamed your body, fingers digging into your skin as he tried to pull you even closer, his thrusts rough but filled with raw need. “You feel… so fucking perfect,” he murmured, barely able to get the words out as his rhythm grew erratic, his hips moving instinctively as he chased the building pleasure that was consuming him.

Lost in the sensation, his pace faltered, his movements growing sloppier, more desperate. He pulled you tighter against him, his body shuddering with every thrust, his head falling to your shoulder as he let out a deep, broken groan, his voice strained and breathless.

“God… can’t… gonna come…soon” he whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of awe and helplessness as he felt himself teetering on the edge, holding on only by a thread as he lost himself completely in the warmth of you.

With each thrust, Satoru’s body trembled, his breath hitching as he felt himself nearing that precipice. The warmth enveloping him tightened further, the way your walls pulsed around him driving him wild. His movements grew more frantic, instinct taking over as he chased the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him.

“Please—please..” he gasped, desperation lacing his words as he quickened his pace, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the room. He was lost, intoxicated by the feeling of being inside you, and it was as if everything else faded away. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just the two of you, tangled together in a whirlwind of passion.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, the heat pooling in your core intensifying with every movement. “S’toru… yes—yesss just like that,” you encouraged, your voice breathy as you matched his rhythm, pushing him closer to the edge. Your words seemed to ignite something primal within him, and he let out a deep, guttural growl, thrusting into you with abandon.

“Fuck—so good… you’re so good,” he gasped, his eyes rolling back again as he felt the pleasure building rapidly, tension coiling tightly in his belly. Every sound you made, every gasp and moan, drove him closer to madness. He could feel the pressure mounting, an almost unbearable intensity that threatened to consume him completely.

“I can’t hold back much longer,” he warned, his voice low and strained, nearly a whine as he fought against the overwhelming need to release. “I want to feel you—want you to feel me…”

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you completely, his body shaking as he let go, pleasure crashing over him like a tidal wave. “Oh—fuck!” he cried out, his voice echoing with a mix of ecstasy and disbelief as he came, filling you with warmth. His body quaked with the intensity of his release, and in that moment, everything faded into pure bliss, leaving only the two of you tangled together, breathing heavily in the aftermath

As the waves of pleasure began to fade, Satoru’s breath came in uneven gasps, his eyes still glazed with the aftereffects of the ecstasy he’d just experienced. He looked down at you, the warmth of your bodies still mingling, and a sudden thought struck him—a spark of wild desire that seemed to take over his senses.

“Marry me,” he blurted out, the words tumbling out with an urgency that surprised even him.

Your eyes widened, momentarily caught off guard. “Wha—what?” you stammered, disbelief flickering across your face.

“I know it’s crazy since we just met, but… you’re just—so amazing, and I don’t wanna let you go! That was—” he hesitated, a dreamy look crossing his face as he recalled the sensations. “Your pussy’s s‘ good. I can’t just… I can’t just walk away from this. I don‘t want anyone else now..”

You let out a soft laugh, a mixture of incredulity and amusement bubbling up inside you at his unfiltered honesty. What is happening? you thought, still trying to process the whirlwind of events that had brought you here. “You don’t even know my name!” you exclaimed, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I don’t need to know,” he replied, leaning closer, his eyes half-lidded with that intoxicating mix of lust and affection. “I just know you’re incredible. It’s like—like fate or something. I want you to be mine, like— forever.”

His words, though impulsive, were laced with sincerity, and you could see the way his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, even as excitement radiated from him. This is insane, you thought, but there’s something so genuine about him. “You’re serious?” you asked, searching his eyes for any trace of jest, but the sincerity in his gaze was unmistakable.

“Dead serious,” he confirmed, his expression earnest but still slightly dazed, the effects of what had just transpired clearly clouding his thoughts. “I don’t want to waste any time… so, uh, what do you say?” His voice wavered slightly, betraying his nervousness despite the confident facade he tried to maintain.

Could this really be happening? you thought, your heart racing at the idea of such an impulsive commitment. You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest at his unexpected proposal. “Alright, let’s see where this goes, Prince,” you replied teasingly, excitement bubbling beneath the surface. “But you better be ready for more than just this.”

“Y-yeah! Totally!” he stuttered, his enthusiasm shining through the haze of lust. “I’m all in. Just… just tell me your name, and I promise to be the best husband ever.”

© fvsm4x : do not translate, plagiarise or steal my work.

[yugioh-kitty123]

I had to 😀

[connorsui]

Why is he sooooo!?!?!?! And his PERSONALITY is soOoOOo!?! And his FACE is sooo!?! And his VOICE SOO!?!?! And his EYES are sooo!?!? And he makes me feel SoOoOoO!?!?!?!?

EVERY LITTLE DETAIL

EVERY SINGLE THING ABOUT HIM

[luvsupa]

PRINCE GOJO M.LIST

part 1 “PRINCE GOJO?!” part 2: YOURE INLOVE WITH PRINCE GOJO?

part 3: PRINCE GOJO LOVES WHO?

part 4: “WE’RE ENGAGED!”

part 5: PRINCE GOJO ENGAGED TO WHO?

requests are open, please read rules before asking!

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

HOW DEEP IS YOUR DEVOTION? ; SATORU GOJO

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

word count; 6.6k

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

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

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

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

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

”does it hurt?”

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

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and he wins. he always wins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

all of it for one person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“sure you do.”

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

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but…

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

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

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

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

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

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

satoru sits up a little straighter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

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

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

”settle down, little knight.”

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

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

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

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

no matter where he goes, you follow.

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

“come with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you blink.

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

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

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

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

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

his knight. his favourite knight.

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

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

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

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

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(he’s warm.)

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

“i missed this.”

…

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

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

“… me too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

silence. and then, a chuckle.

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

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

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i don't get it, though.”

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

a moment passes.

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

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

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

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

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

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

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

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

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

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

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

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

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

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

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

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

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

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

“i think i was born to meet you.”

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

[thisisallaikiss]

prince frogjo and geto suguru - a modern fairytale 🐸✨

and they lived happily ever after 😌

[peachsayshi]

cozy boyfriend satoru who uses you as his body pillow. who wraps his long arms around your waist and squishes his cheek against your shoulder. who nuzzles his nose into your neck, and softly breathes against your skin as he falls asleep.

your arm is feeling tingly, but you don’t want to disturb him. he looks so soft when he’s relaxed, you completely forget that he’s the strongest being in existence. it gives you a chance to play with his feathery hair, to slowly twirl the angelic locks between your fingers. to trace the shell of his ear, and tenderly massage the back of his neck.

you can’t help but smile, holding in a giggle as you bite your bottom lip. it’s cute when he wakes up - eyes heavy, and he pouts innocently in your direction when he gazes up at you from underneath frosty lashes to ask: “what’s so funny?”

he’s too adorable, too cute for his own good - you can’t help but kiss the top of his head and squeeze his frame that’s snuggled right up into you. your touch gently lulling him back to sleep 🥺🥺🥺🥺

[zevrra]

to be worthy—

syn: just a few small thoughts about a fantasy au ft. prince satoru gojo!! also am planning to turn this into a bigger series at some point…if you enjoy this, check out my other jjk works here <3

thinking about prince!gojo who is the only heir and is known to be a wild child. his parents, who don’t believe he’ll ever find a spouse, arrange a marriage for him.

prince!gojo who doesn’t approve of the marriage at all and doesn’t want to be married or tied down but doesn’t have a choice when his parents present you as his future wife.

prince!gojo who laughs as sweet as the sun but is cold towards you when you first meet. not because he dislikes you, maybe a little, but to spite his parents.

prince!gojo who ends up not wanting to be around you but somehow always finds himself bumping into you.

you sweetly ask prince!gojo if he’d like to take a walk with you one day, end up having a sweet picnic in a field of wild flowers.

prince!gojo who watches as your eyes light up at seeing the valley of flowers. he feels his heart skip a beat but tries his best to ignore it because no, he couldn’t fall for you. he had to continue to upset his parents by remaining single.

prince!gojo who ends up sending you a large bouquet of wild flowers the next day. has the gardeners plant plenty of pretty flowers for you to see every day you take a walk in the grounds.

when you ask prince!gojo why he would do that, he claims you looked a little sad and figured the gardens would help cheer you up. not because he likes you but because he “disliked seeing you upset”.

prince!gojo who ends up falling so in love with you. he tries his hardest to deny every time anyone makes it a point, whether it be him staring at you from across a room or asking for your hand at a dance.

his eyes stare solely at you and even if he tries to keep his distance, it will fail. for prince!gojo knows you have his heart.

[iloveboysinred]

Masterlist

JJK↴

Sukuna:

Sucking him off drabble (nsfw)

Gojo:

You've been missed (nsfw)

West District (nsfw)

Sitting on his face

Toji:

Countertop sex drabble

toji remembers your birthday

Toji loves halloween

Nanami:

Office sex (drabble, nsfw)

Jealous Nanami

Geto:

Mornings with Geto drabble (sfw, suggestive)

You get me so high(nsfw)

Thoughts on stoner! Geto

Thoughts on being pregnant by Geto

discipline (nsfw, drabble)

Suguru leaves (angst)

Giving stoner! Geto head

Yuji:

and they were roommates!(sfw)

Megumi:

Cuddling megumi drabble (sfw)

Fluffy Megumi hcs

and they were roommates!(sfw)

Thoughts on cheating on Megumi

Choso

worldly things (sfw)

Fascinated (nsfw drabble)

ATLA ↴

Zuko:

Under the Canopy (nsfw)

Nsfw Zuko hcs

Wont say i’m in love (sfw)

Zuko catches you masturbating (Drabble, nsfw)

Shouting from the rooftops, I'm in love (sfw)

No love lost (sfw, slight angst)

Thoughts on Zuko catching you masturbating (nsfw)

Closer to you(nsfw)

Sokka:

pranking with Sokka Drabble (sfw)

VLD ↴

Keith:

Nsfw Keith Hc’s

My home is with you (sfw)

Constellations (nsfw)

Remember me like this (angst)

Miracle (angst)

domestic fluff hcs

Rendezvous (nsfw)

nsfw hcs

Sub Keith

Almost getting caught

Lance:

Nsfw Lance hcs

Mis. ↴

Playing Fortnite with Toph

[nana-au]

𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄...

 𝜗𝜚 Satoru Gojo Prince AU ♡ part three

 𝜗𝜚 Summary: satoru doesn't understand why you aren't the one to wake him every morning. he becomes moody in your absence, haunted by a fear that isn't fully realized. satoru spends his days confused as he wanders the grounds in search of you. he has no idea what to expect when he finally gets you alone. story summary based off of this drabble

𝜗𝜚 Warnings: forbidden love, unspoken feelings, heavy angst, intense emotions, suggestive topics (mention of flashing & teen masturbation), meal skipping, satoru has a panic attack

 𝜗𝜚 wc: 3,486

𝜗𝜚 an: part three!! come get yall's food lol

┊p1┊p2┊p3┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p4┊

“Who do you want to marry when you grow up, Satoru?” you’re smiling at him when you ask, looking up from the dandelion that rested in your small grip; wispy white seeds blowing away with the wind. Satoru watches the fuzz carry on into the open field from where the two of you were sitting, his own wispy white strands tickling his neck from the random gust of wind causing a shudder to ripple through his small form. 

“Satoru, are you listening to me?” you giggle, covering your mouth as a blush creeps up his chubby face. 

“Of course I was,” he insists, cheeks getting brighter as you continue to giggle at him; you were used to Satoru getting distracted by the littlest of things. You pick up another dandelion, scooching closer to his face before giving it a hearty blow and Satoru frantically waves his hands in front of his face - trying desperately to vanish the fluff in front of him. “I was listening,” he states, exasperated. “You just didn’t give me time to think,” he pouts and your giggle fit kicks in again. “Stop it!” he begs, crossing his arms in a huff. 

“I’m sorry, Satoru,” you tell him, reeling in your humor and straightening out your face. “You don’t have a favorite Princess already in mind?” you ask, daydreaming about his romanticized future. You were always there while his parents talked about all the possibilities Satoru had to look forward to. Even in their young age many of the Princesses were ‘radiant beauties’ who would make ‘perfect wives for a lucky Prince’. You all but sighed imagining the lavish wedding full of blooming flowers and a flawlessly flowy veil. 

“No,” he scoffs at that idea, “Only girls care about that mushy stuff,” his fists dig into the dirt to distract himself from the blush that he couldn’t seem to shake off his cheeks. 

“Not even a little bit?” you ask him, hiding your knowing smile by biting your nails. 

“Only sometimes,” he concedes and you perk up a little; still cautious about riling him up again.

“What do you think about?” you subconsciously lean in closer, worried his words would get carried away with the wind. 

“That it won’t be fun….” he pauses, pulling strands of grass out from the ground while he readies himself, “Without you there.”

“Of course I’ll be there silly,” you’re quick to remind him. You wouldn’t miss his wedding for anything. Hell, practically the whole world would be watching and you’d be no different; cheering for the Prince as he found his Princess; securing their place as soon to be King and Queen of the kingdom. 

“Not in the way that I’d want,” he sighs, opening his fist and letting the pile of grass fall back down onto the ground. Your eyebrows furrow, unsure what to make of his statement. You notice how crestfallen he looks though, and you move onto the next thing to busy his thoughts with. It’s easy, it always has been easy to distract the Prince; but every so often you see his lips purse and eyebrows knit as if he’s remembering an unpleasant thought. 

𝜗𝜚

Satoru wakes up early the day after the ball; alerted to the strange man in his room opening his curtains at the first sign of dawn. “Who are you?” he asks, voice full of unease while he watches said man cross his room back to the door he arrived through. 

“Peter, your highness,” the man bows to him, “Breakfast is awaiting you in your private dining room,” he scurries off, leaving Satoru even more confused. Anxiety quickly starts to eat at the features on his face as he sits up, deep in thought. Where could you possibly be? He couldn’t remember you requesting time off…. perhaps you had fallen ill? His thoughts did a number on his heart, feeling his pulse quicken and his chest vibrate from the heavy thumps the organ was producing. He shakes his head, slowing his thoughts and thus his heart, focusing on getting dressed to make it to breakfast. He all but runs throughout the palace, bare feet pattering against the marble floors while he makes his way down the winding halls until he arrives at his destination; hastily pushing open the doors of his dining room. He sees Peter again, standing against the wall like all servants were trained to do before pulling out a chair for the Prince. Satoru’s vision blurs. You had never not let him know your schedule. If you weren’t going to be there for his day you always told him. Always. Usually weeks in advance too. His palms perspired and he rubbed them on the fabrics of his pants. “Please, eat well, Princ-” Peter talks and Satoru immediately cuts him off.

“Where is she? Is she okay?” Satoru tries to steady his tone but his voice shakes and Peter clears his throat before excusing himself, leaving his questions unanswered. He should know better than to get all worked up over something he has no information on yet, but he ignores his meal anyways and heads back to his room, his appetite suffering from the anxiety gnawing on his insides. 

𝜗𝜚

Peter had a hard time getting Satoru ready for the day, the stubborn Prince making it purposefully more difficult the longer he went without the information he seeked. The poor servant does his best - sticking out Satoru’s backhanded comments and incessant teeth sucking as he grew more and more frustrated with the man. He still goes to his classes for the day, not without waving his hand at Peter as he follows him around like a fruit fly to an orange; desperately trying to get the man off his back, 

“Fetch me my tea and biscuits early,” he snaps, frustrated even before putting brush to canvas as his art teacher squirms - not used to such a volatile attitude from the Prince aimed towards a servant. Peter jumps from his tone, rushing to please the fuming royal. When Peter comes back with the wrong biscuits Satoru is quick to insult him, calling him a ‘bumbling idiot who needs to put his head on straight so he can go and find you to smooth over his mistakes’. Peter perspires heavily, bowing repeatedly and apologizing before seeing himself off, desperately trying to think of which biscuits the Prince was referring to as the correct ones.  

During his dance lessons Satoru starts to grow dizzy - seeing Peter’s face every time he spun around in his direction did little to settle his stomach. He held no ill will towards the man - but the longer he went without seeing you the harder it was to quell his anger. The fact Peter seemed clueless to your whereabouts was doing him no help either. “I need a glass of water,” Satoru stops his teacher, removing his hand from her waist and making his way to the door. Peter calls after him when his body makes it past the threshold but Satoru doesn’t look back and Peter gives up the chase before it even starts. Exhausted from a day of following the grumpy Prince around. 

𝜗𝜚

Satoru doesn’t know what to expect when he enters the kitchens, but your sunken shoulders and red eyes was definitely not one of them. “Thank God,” he says, alerting the busy kitchen staff to his arrival. He strides across the room, making his way towards you with a look of relief on his face; knowing that you were still in the palace settled his nerves just a little. Your face looked anything but relieved - your figure tenses upon seeing the Prince and your throat tightens watching him make his way towards you. You’re frozen, unable to move when you feel a harsh pinch at your side. You turn to see your mother, eyes communicating clearly with yours; you needed to make yourself scarce. Your heart skips a beat and you hardly notice you’re holding your breath. Once the Prince was almost directly in front of you, you jumped to action, setting down your paring knife and hastily leaving through the back door of the kitchen.

Satoru doesn’t have any time to call out your name, his mouth opens in an attempt but the swinging door of the kitchen is already stilled by the time he processed what happened. His head tilts, not believing it. Your mother interrupts his thoughts with a polite bow, “Prince Gojo, how may we be of help?” Her smile is gentle but her eyes are wild while they search the Prince’s features - trying to read what his next actions might be. He studies her own features just as much as she does his - taking in her full cheeks and narrow eyes. You resemble your father more, but you have your mother’s nose and his heart constricts again at the realization you had walked away from him.

“Just a glass of water, ma’am, thank you,” he all but whispers.  

𝜗𝜚

“Stop talking about my wedding!” child Satoru stomps his foot at you. The two of you were in the middle of an intense game of checkers when you were feeling a bit giddy about the conversation that occurred during breakfast. 

The Queen had droned on and on about the beautiful Princess of a neighboring nation to the two of you. You ignored the food under your nose as the Queen described the unknown girl; curly blonde hair with beautiful bright blue eyes, with a passion for the piano. You sighed in awe, already fantasizing about the lucky Princess - pondering if she liked chasing frogs like Satoru and you did, or if she preferred the comfort of the indoors. Your elbows hit the table while you imagined the other little girl in your head and the Queen was quick to snap at you. “Manner’s child!” your girlish smile fell as your hands hit your lap, apologizing for disrespecting her.

As you were about to king yourself, you stopped, mentioning the Princess before the moment you stacked your piece onto the other, irritating the ever competitive Satoru. “Just king yourself already!” he groaned, wanting nothing to do with the conversation you were striking up. Surely you had to be doing it just to rub in your impending victory. 

“She would look so good in your family’s color,” you sighed, continuing the game while you fantasized yet again about the Prince’s perfect future. A girl with blue eyes and fair skin like Satoru surely would look amazing in the Gojo’s signature blue. 

“I don’t care!” he shouts, visibly irritated by the conversation’s topic. You shake your head, assuming he was just being a boy about it; refusing to entertain the idea of a wife and a whirlwind romance. You didn’t know and you wouldn’t ever know but Satoru didn’t like the idea of a picture perfect wedding and a throne to call his own because he just wanted to play with you forever. It was childish, sure, but he was a child when he first realized where his thoughts were on the matter. He hated the idea that you would eventually become like a picture on the wall, always there in the background but never to be seen or heard from. It wouldn’t be until he was a little older that he realized being married doesn’t sound all that bad if you really enjoy their company. If he could be himself and they could make him laugh. ‘That wouldn’t be too bad’, he told himself.

As you both grew together, his body went through awkward phases - causing strange urges he couldn’t seem to satiate for the longest time - always missing something he couldn’t quite place until the day he accidentally saw the supple skin hidden under your skirt. Things really started to heat up from there and he spent far too many days ‘sick’ in his bed with his fists under the covers. Of course you would be there afterwards with a cool towel to wipe the sticky sweat from his face after checking up on him. It was then he realized there must be more to a wife than simple friendship.

𝜗𝜚

Satoru’s days pass without much purpose, He essentially ignores Peter upon realizing the man was utterly useless, choosing to dictate his own day much to everyone’s dismay. He skips scheduled lessons, lets his food go cold during meal times, walks aimlessly around the gardens, and most of all checks in the kitchen for your face. He doesn’t see you any of the countless times he checks and he scoffs louder every time he peeks his head in just to see your figure missing among the sea of silver pots and pans.

Satoru ‘excuses’ himself from his untouched dinner on the last day of the week, heading to the stables and saddling up his own horse before taking off down the field and into the forest he took you through just two weeks before. Riding his horse had been the only solace for him while his thoughts seemed to eat him from the insides. The uneven earth beneath the two of them managing to ease the rising tide of his emotions for the time being. He spent a while out in the forests bordering the Gojo’s land, finding the winding path capable of maintaining his attention and giving him no time to ponder the reality he was facing back at the palace. He doesn’t want to head back but his bones start to ache and his mouth begins to parch so he makes his way to the stables, hopping off his stallion as he got closer to its open doors.

It’s there that he stops abruptly, seeing you for the second time that week. Satoru couldn’t recall a time he went that long without seeing your face. You hadn’t noticed him yet - too busy dragging a bale of hay twice your size into one of the many stalls the stable held. You were out of breath, covered in dust and sweat, your hair falling out of its ribbon that you used to keep it back and your face red from the constant strain of overworking your muscles. He decided to take a different approach from when he saw you in the kitchens, abandoning his horse to sneak up behind you, grabbing a strand of your ribbon and pulling it away, causing your hair to cascade down. You shoot up, turning around and seeing the Prince directly in front of you. The two of you were so close that your noses almost touched and you stood, frozen in fear yet again. Your heart beat rapidly; joining the chaotic rhythm Satoru sported the moment he finally saw you after all these days apart. “Let me help you,” he murmured, messily collecting your hair into a bundle at the back of your head, concentrating hard as he tied the ribbon tight into place. “There,” he purred, petting your head as he tried to smooth out any bumps and you felt your resolve just about shatter from the tender touches of his slender fingers against your skull. 

“Prince Gojo,” you almost dry heave when you finally speak, “That was inappropriate,” you speak so softly, not believing in the words that come out of your mouth. His eye twitches at your words, taken aback from the title you used with him. The two of you were alone and yet you saw it fit to call him that? The title he begged to be removed from your vocabulary even against his parent’s demands. The one you never used in an empty room such as this. 

“Why haven’t you been waking me each morning?” he asks, dumbfounded even by his own words. He wanted to ask what was with the disgusting title. He wanted to ask why you practically ran when he saw you in the kitchens. He wanted to ask why his best friend all but vanished from his life only to be inhabiting the halls he walked for hours, searching for you. You don’t meet his frantic eyes when you mumble something about taking on new responsibilities and he doesn’t mean to but he shouts, “Why would you do that?!” He isn’t sure he can swallow down the crashing waves of acid threatening to spill from his pretty pink lips due to the way you were staring down at your shoes instead of into his pleading eyes. Betrayal is hot on his mind and accusations sit heavy on his tongue when you don’t respond but he collects what little control he has left; unwilling to accept you could be so indifferent to him. “What could possibly cause you to act like this?!” his voice is shaky and his eyes turn glossy waiting for your response. 

You want nothing more than to cling to his body, to feel the protection of a man with choices in his life but you can’t cling to him and none of his choices are his to make. His whole life had been paved for him the moment his head crowned and the Gojo’s welcomed their baby boy into the world. You reflect on the Queen’s warnings and focus on the truth of the matter. Satoru had no say in his life; bound by rules and customs created long before his tentative eyes could take in the size of his fortress. One day he would be required to marry - against his wishes if it came down to it because as the only heir he had no choice. You weren’t just saving your parents from a life on the streets or yourself from being forever shunned as the girl who dared tried to dirty the Prince - you were saving Satoru from the heartache of watching that happen to you. The words you were about to say needed to be said. No matter how loud your pulse was in your ears threatening to make you go deaf. “I grew uncomfortable with our closeness,” his eyes almost bulge out of their sockets, immediately scoffing but you continue on, “It’s inappropriate and wrong and it is dirtying your image.”

He is completely aware of how loud he becomes this time, “I don’t care about my image!” His legs feel like jello from how terrified your words make him. You almost lose all your logic upon seeing his tall body collapse in on itself, his shoulders slumping and knees buckling as his world turns upside down. He looks like a frightened child and you want nothing more than to embrace him and tell him you didn’t mean any of it. But you have to. For you. For your family. For Satoru. You have to mean your next words. 

“I care, Satoru. I care that people think you might like me-”

“And what if I do?” His face is unusually red when he says this. You realized later after he walked away that this was his way of finally speaking the unspeakable out loud. The thing the both of you knew yet neither of you mentioned. The tension that turned the air thick and made it hard to breathe without him. He had revealed his heart that beat solely for you. 

“I don’t feel the same,” his world collapses at your words but he doesn’t show it. His face finally steels and his jaw sets. He says nothing. He gives you nothing. Choosing to walk away and get back on his horse rather than get on his knees and beg you to admit that you don’t mean the words you say. 

𝜗𝜚

His ride through the forest follows the same path; his horse jumping over the same thick roots in the ground and weaving through the tall trees that hid the estate from wandering eyes. Instead of the usual peaceful breeze of every ride he’s had before, the wind seems to knock the air from his lungs instead of filling them; causing him to cough and splutter as he desperately tries to fill his failing organs. His body racks with sobs and his tears hit the white mane of his favored horse. He doesn’t bother to wipe the snot from his nose when he can hardly keep himself steady; refusing to stop in fear he may lay down onto the earth and never arise again. 

Against his better judgment, Satoru’s body is found lying on the dank forest floor at around half past midnight. The servants sent out to find the Prince are in awe at the pitiful scene in front of them: laid flat on his back, staring up at the starry sky between tree branches, face swollen from hours of crying, and body shivering from the unforgiving temperatures of the night. They scoop him up without a fight and carry him back. He doesn’t bother to explain himself to the servants.

No one comes to visit him once he’s finally tucked into bed. 

┊p1┊p2┊p3┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p4┊

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(ty for all the support! comment to be added/removed)

[chuulyssa]

prince!gojo somehow knows exactly when you need him.

tw nightmares + mentions of a horrible past, angst

the hallway was dark, save for the faint glow of the moon seeping through the cracks in the curtains. most of the house was asleep, and it was so quiet that you could hear the crickets chirp from even the closed windows. you were lying in bed, trying to shut out the unease that gnawed at your insides. it had been like this for weeks — these strange, suffocating hands gripping at your throat, your hair and your feet, pushing you into a cage that was slowly inching towards a floor filled with lava, in front of which sat a large crowd of chattering people, no doubt enjoying the scene of torment. and then the place would evaporate again, showing an old kitchen, burnt food in a plate and torn and stitched hand-me-downs, until you grew tired of the images and forced yourself to wake up.

you squeezed your eyes shut after waking up this way for the twelfth time that night, waiting for sleep to come again, but it didn’t. instead, you only felt the shadows in the corners of your room grow longer, and the whispering voices growing louder, cold fingers brushing the back of your neck. you shook your head vigorously as if to push the ghosts of your past away, but they always came back.

and then, you heard it.

the soft tap-tap of footsteps down the hallway, just light enough that anyone else would have missed them. but you didn’t. you knew those footsteps. they were the ones that always came, no matter how late it was, no matter how much time had passed since you last heard them. the door to your room creaked open quietly, and there he was.

satoru.

he didn’t say anything — he never did — but you felt the familiar warmth of his presence before he even stepped inside. even you could never figure out what dream you would have the next day, but somehow satoru always knew. and you never questioned it.

his steps were quiet as he made his way over to your bed, and you could hear the soft rustle of his clothes as he sat down beside you. he was close now, so close. you lifted your head up to greet him and he saw your moist cheeks. wiping them gently without a word, he tugged the covers back, slipping in beside you. his arm came around your waist, pulling you close, and for a moment, you could breathe again.

“go to sleep. don’t worry about these things, i’m here now,” he whispered softly.

you wanted to argue; you didn’t need to be coddled like a child. but the words never came. you didn’t want to push him away. not now.

you could hear his breath steadying beside you, the rhythm of it calming you. the weight of his arm around you was solid, like it could protect you from anything. and for the first time in the entire night, the nightmares seemed a little less real. the shadows weren’t so dark. the whispers were drowned out by his steady breathing, and him. everything about him. from the scent of his hair to the softness of his palms. it was all him you could think about right now.

“close your eyes,” satoru whispered again.

you nodded against his chest, your fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt. his thumb stroked small circles on the small of your back, and you felt your body relax into his. his arms, always so strong, were so gentle around you. 

but then, the years passed.

it wasn’t a sudden change, not at first. it was more like the gradual fade of a dream when you wake up in the morning. when one night, you found yourself lying awake, needing him, but the door didn’t creak open.

when you waited night after night for the gentle sound of his footsteps, but they never came. for the way your bed would softly sink when he climbed up on it, but you never felt it again. when you needed him, but he never came.

you couldn’t understand why. was he busy? were the two of you too old to do this anymore? now he had his own life, his own friends, his own world outside of you. but you hated it. you hated the looming shadows laughing at your pathetic prayers to reach him. you hated the hushed whispers that asked where he was now mockingly. you hated the emptiness in your bed more than any nightmare.

and the morning would come, and you would go to school, but he would never talk about the darkness under your eyes. he knew. and yet he never came.

and you missed it. you missed him.

but satoru didn’t come anymore.

[teddybeartoji]

guys... GUUUUUUUUUUUYYSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

EEEEEE LOOK AT US:3333333 THIS IS THE BEST THING IN THE WOOOORLDDDD AND I AM ABSOLUTELY OBSESSSEEEDDD!!!!!!!!! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU AGAIN @yuutaguro FOR THIS MASTERPIECE!!!!!!!! I LOVE IT SO FUCKING MUCH<3333333

[ponderingmoonlight]

Chapter 5: Duel of Fates – A Perilous Encounter in the Darkened Hall

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Warnings: reader's death, language

Genre: Isekai, Romance, Fantasy

Synopsis: Your life takes a tragic turn as you perish in a car crash, only to awaken in a whimsical world of fantasy with none other than Jujustu Kaisen characters as its main protagonists. But as if that wasn't enough, you're about to marry the prince version of Gojo Satoru. How will you navigate through this world of history and fantasy? Does your life take the same sudden twist of fate as that of your favorite characters?

<- Previous Chapter l Next Chapter ->

„How did you already catch my name?”, he purrs at you with his sickening low voice.

You can’t deny the fact that you found him pretty hot in the manga and anime. But back then, he wasn’t more than a 2D character. Seeing that death machine standing right in front of you with his piercing appearance and 6’2” lingering over you like an unpromising shadow is completely different.

“Your reputation precedes you”, you press out while freeing your shivering body out of his grasp.

Fuck, you can literally feel your heart dropping to the floor. This is bad, even worse than being next to Gojo’s side. Does that man kill as he pleases in this world as well, is he on his way to end Gojo? Your eyes widen in sheer horror while your thoughts spin around you like a carousel out of control.

“May I ask for your name?”

“My name? What do you want to do with my name?”, you reply in an instant.

He tilts his head to the side, his low laughter forcing your whole body to shiver in nothing but fright.

“You’re acting as if I’m here to kidnap you. I saved you from falling over, is your name too much for ask for?”

“(y/n) Zenin”, you mumble under your breath.

Thank god for those glittery gloves Gojo forced you to wear. Without them, your hands would be covered in cold sweat by now. You need to get a hold on yourself, tame down your screaming heart. Toji won’t attack you at a random ball in a hallway, right?

“A Zenin, huh? I feel sorry for you.”

What? You furrow your eyebrows at him. What the hell is this guy talking about?

Oh.

You’re such an idiot.

“Must be nice that they kicked you out of that cursed family”, you comment dryly before you’re able to stop yourself.

Screw your loose mouth and the urge to always voice your thoughts. This was probably the dumbest move you could have made. In the manga, only a handful of people know about Toji and that he was in fact a part of the Zenin clan until they decided to kick him out because he lacked of cursed energy. Out of all people, you shouldn’t be the one who knows about this, you shouldn’t be the one to meet him in an empty hallway in the first place.

“I should get-“

“You’re not going anywhere, Lady (y/n). Just as I expected when I first saw you here, you aren’t an ordinary girl that chases after the prince. Your father forces you into this, huh? Tells you that he’ll kill you if you don’t marry that guy.”

He grabs your wrist with almost no pressure.

“This has to be a family thing”, you mumble to yourself until his cold glare meets yours.

“I swore to myself to wipe out the entire Zenin family after what they did to me, after what they forced me to do”, he mutters.

All color drains from your face as your glossy eyes stare at him. What are you supposed to do? Scream, run, cry for help? Your body refuses to move a single inch, his orbs keeping you in place.

“I won’t be a Zenin anymore after marrying Prince Gojo”, you breathe out.

“Too bad I can’t stand that brat on the throne either.”

You swallow down the knot that builds up inside of your throat. Don’t panic, you need to focus and choose your words wisely. But…how are you supposed to stay focused when that sickening force of a man grabbed your wrist and pierces through your mind with his stone-cold orbs?

“Too bad indeed. I’m in that game just like you are”, you press out as his grasp tightens.

Oh, you are so dead before your life even began, killed by your own “cousin”. Why did you never even think about the possibility that Toji might show up here as well? If he’s coming for Gojo just like he did in the manga, if he really dares to lay hands on Geto and Gojo…Why wouldn’t he kill an insignificant side character? You weren’t even a part of the Jujutsu Kaisen verse in the first place.

So that’s it? You, dying through the hands of Toji Fushiguro?

"Oh, look who decided to grace us with his presence. How delightful to see you here, lurking in the shadows like a true gentleman. I must say, your timing is impeccable as always. But for now, may I ask you to take your hands off my fiancé, Sir?”

A wave of relief washes over you when you catch a glimpse of those iconic bright blue eyes emerging from the darkness next to you.

“I humbly beg your pardon, but apparently I forgot your name, Sir. You know, I’m not apt at recalling the names of gentlemen these days”, Toji replies with a satisfied grin.

“It’s Prince Satoru for you. Who am I speaking to?”, Gojo replies coldly.

With a swift motion he’s standing right by your side, releasing you from the threatening grip of Toji’s hand around your wrist.

That was a close call. Way too close for your liking. If it wasn’t for Gojo to come around at just the right time, that guy would have folded you immediately.

“Sir Toji, Your Highness. Now excuse me, even though it was a pleasure to meet you, I have to return to my other responsibilities. I hope we meet each other again soon, Lady (y/n).”

You don’t even dare to answer, avoiding his gaze like the plague as he disappears into darkness again. A nauseous flood of fear gets a hold of your heart. Out of instinct, you hold onto Gojo’s sleeves tightly while the hallway gets filled with the haunting sound of your heavy and uneven breathing.

This is it, the closest you’ve been to dying again after getting reincarnated into this world – after no more than maybe 48 hours. Your heart feels like exploding any given minute, ears ringing so violently that you fail to understand a single word Gojo tries to tell you. Is this really how your life will come to an end all over again? After all, everyone in Jujutsu Kaisen seems to die. And you’re nothing but a little side character in this story, someone who wasn’t even meant to exist in the first place.

“Lady (y/n), what has gotten into you?”, Satoru repeats over and over again while grabbing your shoulders in order to keep you from falling.

That naked fright glittering in your orbs he knows oh too well, the haunted expression that is written on your face. What did that man say to you before he arrived here? He should have never let you out of sight in the first place, not when there are so many people around who want to see him dead.

“Find us a private room, Suguru. I need to calm her down before returning.”

“Of course.”

Like in trance, you allow Gojo to pick you up and carry you down the hallway, your fingers intertwined with the fabric of his fine suit in a way that doesn’t allow you to let go ever again.

There’s no doubt in the fact that your life will end if you meet Toji like this again. Who else did you forgot, who else do you need to look out for? Is this really how it has to be now? Living your new-found life in constant fear, surrounded by nothing but people who want to see you dead? Apparently, not even marrying the prince of this goddamn kingdom is enough to find peace.

“(y/n), look at me.”

What if you get poisoned or choked in your sleep?

“(y/n), I need you to focus on me.”

Or worse, what if they torture you in order to gain any information about your soon-to-be-fiancé?

“(y/n), come back to me.”

He grabs your face with both hands and comes so close that you can’t escape his stinging bright blue eyes. Suddenly everything turns silent for a brief moment, leaving only you, Gojo and your racing heart behind.

“I don’t know what or who haunted you like this, but you are alright. You are save with me, do you understand?”

“You’re a fool if you think you can protect me.”

“Who if not me? Isn’t that why you chose me as your fiancé and begged me to take you back?”

“Begging you to take me back!?”

You spring back onto your feet faster than Gojo is able to regret his poor choice of words, orbs shooting pure venom his way.

“I begged in no way for you to take me back. We have a contract, right? We are trading partners”, you clarify sharply.

“Trading partners, right”, Gojo mumbles.

“But still, I’ll watch over you. It’s my responsibility to-“

“You can’t protect me from this world”, you interrupt him, shaking your head vehemently.

“This world is my world and I know it all too well. Give me a little bit of your trust, you won’t regret it.”

“Oh yeah? I can’t even trust you over your vows and all those beautiful disgusting words you’ll say later on, about how much you adore me and that I’m the only one for you”, you bark back at him.

You’re being ridiculous and you know it, nothing but the purest frustration catching up with you.

This is unfair, almost too much to bear. You never asked for any of this, never dreamed about being on this man’s side or getting to wear those pretty dresses, you never wanted to be a princess.

“In this world, you’ll be my only. And I’ll make sure everyone in this way too glamorous room will have no doubt in my deep feelings for you. I’ll make sure that no harm ever reaches you, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Prince Gojo”, you bite back.

When he leans closer, your breath gets stuck in your throat all over again. What a mess of feelings and words, what a pile of chaos you maneuvered yourself into. Is this really worth the potential freedom you’ll gain afterwards? There’s no guarantee that your plan works out. What if you get killed before that? What if Gojo changes his mind?

The feeling of his warm hand resting on your shoulder rips you out of your train of thoughts.

“Hands off”, you bark at him while slapping his hand away.

“"I’m not one of your mistresses, and you’ve got more than enough to keep you busy already, don’t you think?"

But instead of having the decency to at least look shocked or caught, Gojo smirks at you the way he always did with his hands raising in mock surrender.

"Come on now, don’t believe everything you hear. Besides, I’ve got high standards—can’t be wasting my time on just anyone," he replies with a wink.

“Prince Satoru, Lady (y/n), guests start to wonder where you went. I’d kindly advise you to return to the ball and end what you started”, Suguru’s voice suddenly bites through the thick tension between both of you.

Fuck, you got way too close. You distract your shaky fingers by hectically straighten your already perfect-sitting dress while avoiding Gojo’s gaze at all cost.

“You are more than right. Let us get this over with”, you mumble before storming out of the room.

Suguru raises an eyebrow as he watches you leave in a hurry, then turns to Gojo with his head tilted to the side.

“What was that about? I have never seen you struggle so hard to keep your hands to yourself, Prince Gojo”

Gojo chuckles, running a hand through his hair with his gaze still glued to the door you stormed through.

“Oh, come on, Suguru. She's not like the others, way more… unpredictable.”

Suguru scoffs, crossing his arms.

“You? Interested in someone who doesn’t throw themselves at you? That’s new.”

Gojo’s grin widens, his gaze still lingering where you disappeared.

“Exactly. Makes it more fun, don’t you think? Now, let me propose to her.”

Tags: @m0k0k0 @lees-chaotic-brain @sanicsmut @risuola @fire-loving-siren

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[ven0mvamp1re]

color wheel challenge! <3