Gojo Satoru X Reader - Tumblr Posts

i want to get into the habit of writing again so I'm posting this masterlist to share a year-old draft I've had sitting in my drive for a while. of course, this is also my way of coping with recent gojo events, but I'm so excited to post the first chapter/intro for this series!!

through my fault ⸝⸝ s. gojo

you commited no crime, but shall pay the sins of your parents.

synopsis. desperate to find you a suitor to expand the kingdom, your mother finds ways to ensure that you rule in her image; even if that means breaking your relationship with your future husband.

genre. fem!reader, arranged marriage, royalty au, slow burn, +18

filed under. villainous protagonists and heroic antagonists, explicit descriptions of murder, death, blood, mentions of pregnancy, politics, heavy use of religious imagery, mild mentions of misogyny, emotional trauma and abuse, undertones of manipulation, explicit smut

through my fault ⸝⸝ chapter index

001 ﹔ 002 ﹔ 003 ﹔ 004 ﹔ 005 ﹔ 006 ﹔ 007 ﹔ 008﹔ 009 ﹔ 010 ﹔ 011 ﹔ 012 ﹔ 013 ﹔ 014 ﹔ 015 ﹔ 016 ﹔ 017 ﹔ 018 ﹔ 019 ﹔ 020

❬ 001 ❭ through my fault ⸝⸝ for whatever duty calls

synopsis. desperate to find you a suitor to expand the kingdom, your mother finds ways to ensure that you rule in her image; even if that means breaking your relationship with your future husband.

genre. arranged marriage, royalty au, slow burn, +18

warnings. mentions of death, politics, undertones of manipulation

wc. 6.4K ─ a 20-30 minute read

author’s note. this is just an introductory chapter to ' through my fault '! feel free to consider this as a sneak peek to the actual fic <33

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In front of every threshold hung columns of diminutive silver bells—meant to keep the devil at bay—that swayed left and right with violence, peeling tremulously into the night. As wind bellowed against the stained windows, making the wooden frames cry when trying to adjust to the new temperatures; the bells followed, filling the frigid air with the crying of a thousand condemned souls.

Arcadia was supposed to be a realm that was seen as the perfect harmony that nature and humanity can achieve simultaneously. The trees that found home inside of the wallowing kingdom were bathed in evergreen, standing out and contrasting the turquoise sky. As night slowly approached the skyline, some would catch the Queen as she witnessed the ash-like clouds above her; tongued in lavender and coral which gracefully illuminated the fuchsia blossoms that fell from the swaying trees. If such an adventurer were to walk beyond the docks and into the city, there might be a chance to catch its residents as they ever so gradually retrieved back to their homes, candles lighting up as the star-encrusted darkness covered the place with delicacy. Exploring beyond the humble residencies, a street market would welcome the visitor with open arms, its quietness contrasting with the usual effervescent buzz that filled the crowded streets; and, at last, the castle awaited right beside the beige library, its doors always open for late visitors.

But gelid was almost insufficient to describe the weather that evening, for the ice carried by the leaden billows hovering over the kingdom froze their bones and bit their skin with a malevolence that could not be defeated even by the brightest fire. Icy gusts of wind sneaked inside their homes through every nook and cranny, taking the shape of delicate snow volutes. It was beautiful, almost magical, the way wind swirled and danced around the buildings, with a force that knew no limits.

Inside of the dominiotive castle belonging to the royal family that ruled over the currently frozen kingdom of Arcadia, the Queen sat on the throne beside her husband, holding a newly born child with a frail smile. Her hands caressed the baby’s head out of love, the child in response to that cooed and babbled with incoherent intonations. Before them, dukes and duchesses as well as noblemen and women from across the world gifted the new princess gifts and praises; that day would be the dawn of a new era. 

On this current day, Arcadia was a realm in which snow never thawed completely. The whiteness of ice was always in sight, crowning the peak of every mountain and turning the lake into pure glass. Wherever the eyes chose to wander there it was, the pallid wasteland. No sane person would visit such a nightmare of ice and snow, that is until the announcement of a new princess— a royal! 

For the first time in decades, Arcadia receives a blessing. 

“It is our honour to announce the name of our child,” said the Queen, “Princess [Y/N]… and one day, she will become Queen of Arcadia.” 

When such a princess grew of age, people praised her with deference and ovation. For she was the first Arcadian princess after all; so what possibly could go wrong? Her youth was to be adored and her pulchritude envied, the endless Winter that blossomed when she was born perished and people came forth to the conclusion that she was in fact the true Queen of this inconsolable land. 

That is, until a visitor had arrived on her sixth birthday. 

A stranger in the form of an old woman, wrinkled features hidden behind a cape and coat. Long, greying [H/C] hair fell in braids along their shoulders and upon their presence within the vast room within the Great Hall, the temperature had dropped as if the ghosts of previous Kings, Queens, and Princes had absolved consequent to this stranger’s presence.

“[REDACTED], I thought we made it clear that you are prohibited to walk along this land,” spoke your father in a tone that was protective. You sat in between the two figures, playing with your toys. Your mother rushed by your side immediately, holding you close. “Guards!” 

A small chuckle escapes the lady’s lips and she dismisses the barrage of knights marching to dispose of her. And with a flicker of her hand, she threw them across the room with ease. “Is that any way to treat your mother-in-law?” Jested the woman. “I only came to see my granddaughter after all, I am to wither soon and I think that after all you’ve… taken from me, I deserve to see this child at least once.” 

“Mother please—” the Queen’s voice attempted in authority, but came out to beg as the woman hushed her with a hollow stare. “Please do not bring [Y/N] into this. Our business remains between us.” 

“Oh, you wound me,” she huffs through her nose sarcastically, “do you really take me as somebody who would hurt a child? What do I look like, a cannibal?” She cackles but her attempt in humour was met with a whimper coming from the Queen as she attempted to stand ground. In response to that, the woman frowns, “ah, so you do see me in such a light.” 

“What do you want?” In that finality, the King’s voice boomed. 

With frail fingers, the lady revealed her countenance that was hidden from within the cape’s hood. She smiled a wrinkled smile; tilting her head to the side as her monochromatic irises studied the King’s expression as it transitioned to a face of authority into one that is covered by the apprehension of fear and terror. The woman’s face was sinking in dark and unbalanced skin; one eye bigger than the other as cheeks sunk into her bones.

The face of Death itself came into being within the King’s vicinity and for a moment the Queen was hesitant to step forward. Their child was just as appalled, just as terrified, as she hugged her toys against her chest. 

“Mommy, who is this person?” You whisper discreetly and the old woman’s response came in front of you within a blink of an eye. You are taken away from your mother’s grasp and with a gasp, you are greeted by the eyes of your grandmother. You whimper. 

“I’m your grandmama, dear,” she responds with a honeyed voice, “and I am what you should have been.” 

As young as you were, you could barely comprehend her words as she leaned forward. Her sharp and soiled nails sunk against the skin of your little shoulders and you gasp as you struggle within her hold. “Mommy… I w-want mommy…!”

The lady finally lets you go and you break into a run, dropping your toy and returning to your mother’s arms. She clicks her tongue. “You are just like your mommy. It’s unfortunate, really.” The woman kneels down momentarily to pick up the toy you had dropped.

“Mother, please leave us immediately before we have to take drastic measures,” your mother finally speaks up, “[Y/N] is not me, for in fact, she will become better than you and I combined. It is only what is written in the stars.”

With that being said, a cackle escaped the lady’s lips and finally, she revealed herself as a witch— if it wasn’t already obvious enough, from within her robe the appendages of black sunk into the floor and the facade of an older woman is overshadowed by the true silhouette belonging to the Queen’s wicked mother. 

A beautiful witch, she was, but a cursed monster she is destined to be. 

“Do you know why I am here tonight?” Said the lady, her croaky voice was much more magnificent as she spoke like a siren. This witch was so hypnotic that even the Queen fought herself from melting into the mirage of what the witch truly desired. “You, my daughter, killed me when you took this throne and granted this abominable kingdom an heir. You really took that prophecy to heart, didn’t you?” 

Your mother clenched her teeth, stepping in front of you. “You are a monster to my people and a calamity to your daughters— to me! I did what true rulers are meant to do.” Even her own husband was appalled by such a speech, yet chose not to speak a word. The witch hums.

“Mm. Yes, you really do have the heart of a Queen.” The witch rambled. “But you have sins of your own that cannot be repented by plea and benediction alone; you too are cursed and so is your very own child. And so, I say this unto you, [Y/N], daughter of [F/N], and princess of Arcadia:

Bestowed has been upon you this barren crown that will see no more queens but you. 

You, silvern Princess, committed no crime, but you shall pay the sins of your parents. 

Your subjects will forsake you, for no one would serve a cursed queen. 

You will never wither, my Lady, but you will never fully live. 

This... this is your punishment." 

The Queen cried, “you are only killing yourself more by sealing this curse, mother!” 

“That is exactly why I am doing it.” Soon, the Great Hall sunk into a deep penumbra. The only constellations lighting up the propinquity would be the glowing irises belonging to the witch as well as the large, claw-like appendages that rose from the tiles of the marble setting. Slowly, it wrapped around her figure, burning into her skin and she fought from screaming, yes, for her final words were: “I will grant my curse onto my granddaughter and only she will be the one able enough to break it. For no such alchemical conducts, prayer, and sorcery will be strong enough to break her free from our family’s true nature!” The witch points at you, who was tranquillized with fear. “Happy birthday, my dear granddaughter.”

The Great Hall went pitch black, the echoing voice of this witch vanished within the penumbra and finally the Queen could breathe a suspire of relief. However, her remedy was cut short when you collapsed within her arms. The maids were too afraid to step forward as the knights stood idly behind their King; unsure of what to do. 

Your mumbling was incoherent and your father muttered, “sorcery…” 

The Queen’s hues sharpened into a glare in his direction, finally raising the voice that she has been keeping within those course of events. “She is just a child!” Your mother cried out— not in despair, but anger. “Your child, in fact, and you will treat her as so! No matter what kind of wretched curse that witch bequeathed unto her!” 

The King stood sternly, approaching his wife with solemn hues. “We must keep trying for an heir.” Said he. 

“No.” She shook her head, hugging you against her chest. “You said it yourself. She is to be Queen one day and that is irrefutable.” 

It was profoundly obscene how the Queen flawlessly stood on her feet, and despite her respect as a woman, she held her ground. The King can only recall the vexatious timbre of how his mother-in-law’s last words echoed in the back of his mind. The Gods continue to play with his patience and he can do nothing but accept that he made a vow to protect and serve his people, including his wife's exuberance.

FIFTEEN YEARS LATER

The paintings of angels and fantastic creatures stared down at you, impassive eyes forever eternalized on the castle's candid walls. As much as you did not believe in the myths that whispered throughout the hyperborean corridors of this dome, those figures were still as eerie as the spectral connotations they brought along; perfectly portrayed in fine oil strokes, their smooth skin shining against the moonlight — just as pallid; just as cadaverous. 

You did not know where you heard those legends for the first time, but they were always present as you grew old and continued to visit this palace that you soon called home. Myths of vengeful ghosts, bloodthirsty monsters and immortal warlocks; beasts that lived in the shadows, searching for desperate spirits as their source of vitality. One of the most infamous was regarding the genesis of those same artworks, for they almost seemed to be in constant change: deviations in poses; volatile expressions; or even new beings appearing out of the blue. Some even believed that the castle itself was one of such horrible beasts, sucking in the souls of the ones who died within these walls, trapping them for eternity.

Regardless of what most tales would claim, the figures remained there, unmoving, as you passed by. 

"You will never wither, my Lady," you repeat to yourself with hues of [E/C] casting over the extraordinary paintings that decorated themselves along this hallway. “But you will never fully live.”

It was a repetitive symphony that seemed to escape your scarlet-painted lips whenever you roamed these pallid halls; a mantra that could never escape the face of your reputable standing as the Arcadia's Last Princess— or so they say. 

From where you stood, it would be easy to recognize who you were if it weren't for the fan sitting over your nose, moving with the flicker of your wrist as you walked along the great halls of this castle. You wore a simple attire consisting of a corset and a verdant dress falling below your feet like a silhouette. The fabric grazing over your freshly-shaven legs, tickling your skin in whispering blows. Your shoes, finally with their soft heels, echoed as you walked. A deep voice had called out your name, rushed footsteps coming up from behind you as you turned around and tilted your head, letting your confusion become visible. 

"Princess." One of your royal Knights, Kento Nanami, had spoken up with a polite bow. He had his hand over his heart as he greeted you respectfully. "Her Highness and the ladies-in-waiting seek your presence in the Great Hall."  

You turn your head to face the knight, acknowledging his bold semblance with a minuscule smile. "Kento, I told you not to call me that." You shut the fan that you had in one hand efficiently as you use it to tilt his chin up endearingly. "It is only you and me here."

He clears his throat as he raises his head, watching you with tired hues. "You know as well as I that no matter how many times you remind me, I cannot address you so intimately, my Lady." You dismiss that statement with a chuckle, looping your arm around his as he leads you to the Great Hall where your mother, the Queen, awaited your presence. 

"You're my friend, Kento," you speak sternly, "not my servant." 

Falling into reticence, Nanami's lips closed as you quietly walked along his side. "And despite that, princess, I do not think I can ever get used to your personality." 

You raise your brow and humorously you nudge the knight's side with your elbow. "Are you accusing me of feigning deception with my claims? I do not lie, Kento, and neither should you." You huff through your nose and you smirk when the corners of his lips tilt upwards — he will never get used to you as a whole, even if the both of you practically grew up together, you were still the mere visage of duty, ambition, and obscurity that the knight can never be able to decipher. 

Truly, you were your mother's daughter, and most of the time that was not a good thing. 

She had constructed you in her very image after all; contoured the archaic values of the land to teach you how to have a strong mind and charming tactics — something a man would never be allowed to achieve, for her role was solely decorative: the mere shadow of a king.

Of course, your mother was no fool — if anything, she was the polar opposite. Tales and rumors reverberated through the castle walls, telling the stories of how your mother, the simple daughter of a commoner, managed to climb her way towards the highest of monarchy. It went from simple explanations — of how her father knew the family from years prior, and had the marriage arranged as a paid favor  — to miraculous claims that she had sold her soul to an evil witch. Whatever it might have been, she conquered her throne with impeccable strategy, and that only made mistrust dig its claws even deeper inside Nanami's brain. 

You break the blond man's course of thought with a drawing sigh, tilting your head to the side as you looked over the barrage of portraits and fine statues that were displayed along the halls you both walked through. "On that note, be honest now: what do you think my mother has in store with me?" 

"What do you want her to do for you?" Nanami counters.

You blink at his response, before laughing idly and habitually you bring your free hand over your mouth as you grin cheekily at the knight. "You can't answer a question with a question, Kento. Besides..." you trail back to his words. Nanami was coming down into a faithless sunset when he studied your expression. Even as he got used to addressing you as royalty before him, he was confident that his oath to protect you was something that he will not ever regret. You were just as atramentous as the glacial night surrounding you; tiny specks of deviancy scintillating like quivering stars in the universe of your casted hues. He could swear then that one could outline constellations inside them, point out the marvellous contours of a dim, whiling galaxy. "...what is there for me that my mother has left to do?"

"You are to be Queen one day, [Y/N]." Nanami smiles and momentarily, he stops in front of the grand doors leading to the Great Hall. You're caught off-guard by the tranquility behind his words. Even after all these years, while you swore that you knew Kento Nanami as one of your closest friends and most trusted ally, there are still fragments of his own semblance that you have yet to unravel, and him saying your name so comfortably — so unexpectedly — was one of them.

There was no "Princess" or "My Lady"; no fake sense of superiority that seemed to surround you ever since the day you were born. He had acknowledged you as his friend, and that was all that you could ever ask for. "That is all that your mother has left to do. And once you are Queen, then you can scold me about appellations for as much as you want to." 

With one strong arm, he holds open the entrance to the Great Hall — the throne room — and with a dismissive smile and a nod he ushers you inside. When your heels echo within the large dome of the royal chamber, the expeditious murmurs coming from the royal subjects as well as your ladies-in-waiting came into an abrupt halt. Your mother, the Queen, sat graciously on the throne that rightfully belonged to your father. 

Next to your mother, one of her royal servants, the Head of the Arcadian Court, Suguru Geto greeted your form with an enticing smile. 

"Mother," you courtesy, "you requested my presence?" 

When your head tilts upwards to meet your mother's cat-like hues, her gaze gradually descended upon your form. Scrutinizingly, she studies your attire, looking through every crevice of your being for any imperfections; flaws. But alas, as your mother's daughter, many knew that she would never allow for such a thing. 

As she licks her scarlet-painted lips, a faint smile flourished upon her features causing wrinkles to accumulate on the sides of her tired eyelids. "Stand, daughter. A princess's place is not on her knees," she teasingly jested which earned scattered laughter from around you. Flustered, you offer an awkward smile as the people's fixed stare burned against your back. Noticing your uptightness, your mother raises her hand to silence the noblemen and women, before she continues to speak once again. "Suguru has an announcement to make regarding the future of Arcadia. But before he declares it publicly, as your mother, I feel it is only right for you to hear it first." 

Your heart raced against your chest, but you kept your posture up as you awaited the news. As much as your mother wanted to make this private for you, the most privacy you will get upon receiving such declarations would be in the presence of the other noblemen and women. These people who are loyal to this monarchy that your parents rule over, with only the intent of spreading gossip and exaggerated news across the kingdom. You barely knew these people and these people barely knew you; yet they insist on acknowledging you as if you were the best of friends or the closest in relationship.

But above all, when your irises briefly looked over the crowd you were greeted by your best friend. She raised her head confidently as a snicker of a grin greeted its way along her radiant lips. Certainly, she was teasing your position as the centre of attention and you didn't blame her, you had always teased each other for as long as you could remember. You were always so envious of her as you both grew up, she was stunning; bumps and blemishes adorned her cheeks and her skin resembled the tinge of the fluorescence of dark Calla Lilies. 

"Pay attention to the Queen, dummy," she had mouthed to you and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. 

Geto stepped forward, meeting your eyes with a thrilled hum. His features danced with the symphonies of sovereignty and grandeur. The locks of Stygian that settled on his head fell in wistful bangs on the sides of his sculpted face, the rest of his hair was neatly fixed in a half-bun just as the rest of his strands fell elegantly behind his shoulders. When he spoke, he said his words with monotonous ardour and even when it was presented so you could only hear something other than the calmness in his tone — there was a hidden prospect in his stance, something that you found difficult deciphering. 

You shook away such thoughts, you were merely speculating. You barely knew the man other than the fact that he was anticipated to marry your best friend, Kara. Perhaps it was only a natural instinct for you to feel apprehensive about him because he was about to take away the woman that you had known since the day you were both born. 

"The King’s position for the being has been fragile as his health slowly deteriorates," Geto had spoken up more so toward the assembly rather than toward you, "on behalf of the Council, we have decided that Aia, wife of current King [F/N], will continue to rule Arcadia as Regent Queen until Princess [Y/N] finds a suitable husband — a king — to rule with." You face your mother, who nods at the male's words in appeasement. "Within the course of six moons, it will be your duty to find a suitor, princess. All in the name of Arcadia." His lips twitch upwards as he bows in your direction. Finally, Geto added. 

You speak up in question before the Queen herself could take over. "And father— where is he as we speak?" You ask. 

You are not angry or upset at the news, rather, you were indifferent. You have known since you were at the perfect age of seven that you would one day have to be a part of a definitive marriage. You were raised with this responsibility as the future Queen and ruler of the people. It did not matter if they liked you or not, it was not your concern what your people do for you for the most important trait as a ruler is to know what to do for your people. 

"He is isolated in our chambers," your mother responds with an exhale, "and he has accepted his fate, my dear. His only wish before he is greeted by the Gods is that you find your rightful place as Queen while ruling alongside a strong King — one who is not susceptible to such illnesses."

In a parade of silence you face the Queen with your head tilted high. “Then so be it, mother. I will respect father’s wishes and accept my role in Arcadia.” You speak with a desperate suspire. What was it that caught in your throat? Your lies? The pit of your heart did not ache for this was a prescience of what destiny has foretold. It was inevitable, this role of yours, and you would continue to play it for as long as your mother continued to acknowledge your feats. 

“I know you will.” The Queen’s lips tilted upwards, barely revealing the wrinkles that hid beneath the face of bountiful make-up. “I did not discuss this with the council, I didn’t feel the need to— but there will be a ball hosted by yours truly on behalf of my husband’s final tenure as the King of Arcadia. This will take place in two weeks.” 

Geto seemed to accept this final decision with a nod and with that, it would seem that the pale skyline morphed into an amethyst as the Great Hall gradually cleared in guests. You sit alone in the garden just outside of the castle’s wastles. The various homes that belonged below the castle’s dominiotive vicinity flickering in hues that resembled tine stars. It was like an ocean of constellations to be able to see the city you would soon rule over from such heights. The garden behind you bursted in frivolous tones. You loved this garden. You grew up in it after all. 

“Well, well! Princess [Y/N]!” Your best friend approached you from behind, hugging your shoulders as she rested her chin on the top of your head. “Isn’t it exciting? Suitors lining up at your disposal, I’m jealous!” She giggles and you tilt your head to the side, meeting her dimpled cheeks. 

Your shrug came lightly, almost a phantasm. “I suppose so.” 

Kara frowns. “Hm. I don’t sense any excitement, though,” she lifts her arms from your shoulders so that she could take a seat by your side, “would you like to talk?”

“What’s there to talk about?” You finally meet her stunning countenance. Beneath her perfectly arched brows, her earthen hues burned against your being with the remnants of concern. You can only smile. “I’m aware of what the Gods have laid out for me. Curse or not, I am destined to lead my father’s people.” 

Her frown remains and this time, she grabs your hands with her laboring own. She’s always been hard working. Helping you in ways so trivial— but her help; her presence, that is all that you asked for from a friend. When you found a wise acquaintance in Nanami, you would soon come to accept that Kara’s role in your life was the mere shadow of a sister that you never had. You trusted them with your life. More than anything. 

Perfectly demarked, Kara squeezes your hands. “Curse? My Lady, you are no curse! What kind of nonsense is that?” 

She is only making you feel better, you knew that. It has been years since the visitation of your grandmother, you can hardly remember the soliloquy of her words on that day. The only thing you knew were these words, spoken in Latin. You found it hard to decipher the ambiguity of the words, for it was open to more than one interpretation. 

Nec possum tecum vivere, nec sine te.

It came to you like a mantra. Every morning you would repeat such words, hoping to ward off this omen that was put out inside you. It was like you were holding onto something with these words. If it did not have any meaning for you, what kind of meaning did your people hold against you? 

The Cursed Princess of Arcadia. 

Lady of Calamity, [Y/N]. 

“Nonsense? Oh, Kara,” you roll your eyes playfully whilst nudging her with your elbow, “the curse bestowed to me years ago is something the people refuse to let go of. Whether or not I truly am the last Queen of the realm, depends on my future husband.” 

Kara blinks. “Big words, [Y/N]. Big words. I only learned how to read few years ago, remember?” 

A small laugh escaped your scarlet-painted lips. “Right, right. How is he, by the way?” You quickly shift the subject to her. 

“Who?” 

“Your fiance, of course. What other man do you think I’m talking about?” You muse and Kara’s lips gape slightly as if she had been hit in the head by a lightbulb. She chuckles anxiously. 

“Suguru… well, he’s an interesting individual,” she scratches her cheek, “but I really love him! Trust me, [Y/N], you’ll love him too, I promise.” 

You tilt your head to the side. In your years of knowing the younger girl — who was only 18 — you did not think that she would be getting married before you. It came to you as a surprise that a nobleman had proposed to her, for she was merely a girl belonging to a family that was humbly taken in under your mother’s protection. When you found out about the proposal from the dark-haired man two weeks ago, you were both ecstatic as well as confused for her.

As the princess, it only came naturally that you’d be observant with all of your ladies-in-waiting. Not once have you seen them speak together in the same room as you — you assumed that their relationship erstwhile consisted of nightly rendezvous, but Kara had confirmed to you that Suguru often visited her chambers early in the day to take her on morning walks. 

It was sweet. Hearing how fondly Kara was treated — it was what she deserved, after all. 

“I think that you should see to it that only one lady loves Lord Suguru.” You jokingly say. “That is unless he is the type of man who practices polygamy.” 

“Oh heavens no!” Kara scrunches her nose. “You should know that’s not what I mean, princess.” Her plump lips pucker out and you can only chuckle at her behaviour. “Besides, you’ve always had the expression that you dislike him in some way… if there is something bothering you, you can always tell me, you know?” 

You shake your head. “It has nothing to do with him as a character, Kara. I can confidently say that he has my blessing for your hand in marriage, but it is merely his position as a nobleman that irks me. You know how I feel about those… men...”

“Well, you and him are a lot alike… I can see the two of you getting along.” Kara feels herself sigh at your honest take. “He feels the same way about the other old men in the court that he rules.” 

“It doesn’t matter my opinion of Lord Suguru, Kara,” you narrow your eyes at the girl, “don’t seek approval from me. I am not your mother, I am your friend. How do you feel about him? If you can answer that, then I can assuredly tell you that this marriage— your marriage— is not a mistake. This is your life. Not mine.” 

Kara puckers her lips in thought. “Ah, well there are a lot of things that I appreciate about him…” 

“Don’t get too detailed!” You pinch her arm when you catch her biting her lip and she giggles at your immediate response. Her fingers were folded together in frantic curves, one leg bounced in trepidation as her earthly-coloured irises clouded in deep thought. Her bottom lip was tucked between her lips as you can faintly see the embarrassment in her eyes— truly, you could tell, this was love. “Hey… Kara.” You lightly tap her arm, breaking her from her thoughts. "Have I ever given you anything?"

"What do you mean, princess? You've given me everything!" Kara lightly taps your shoulder. "If it weren't for this castle and yourself, I wouldn't have ever met Suguru."

"No, I know that Kara." you laugh lightheartedly. "I've never actually given you a gift, have I?"

"You've given me your dresses... I consider them gifts..." she scratches her arm in thought.

You shake your head, "well, those dresses don't count, Kara. They fit you better than it fit me." You grin, "What I am trying to say is I have a wedding gift for you."

"Oh, [Y/N], you know you can't do that─"

"I am giving this to you because I choose to," you reach into the pocket of your skirt and take out a slip of paper, "no Priest or Bishop can stop you from having the wedding you've dreamed of..." you press it against her palm. "...they'll have to get past me because I'll be Queen soon."

“Wh— [Y/N], you know I was only a kid when I said I wanted that,” she laughs quietly, her brow twitching, “I'm not even a royal... barely a noblewoman.” 

“Are you really refusing a gift from the future Queen of Arcadia?” you pinch her and she grunts at your action, playfully glaring at you. “This as my wedding gift to you!” You grin widely, seeing the way her doll-like hues soften at your suggestion. She looks away, ripping away her gaze. "That slip is worth more than the dresses I have given you, Kara. So be wise with what you decide to use it on."

“Heavens, you sure know which strings to tug on me,” she mumbles almost in disapproval. You hug her from behind, mirroring her actions from before— with your chin resting on her head. 

“There’s a lot that I owe you.” You say. “It’s what you deserve.” 

Kara playfully huffs, “you and your damn righteousness… Ah, princess, you know that gets on my nerves!” She finally cries, bringing her hand up to hold yours. “What about you?” 

“Me?” You echoed, but it was too flippant. “What about me?” You lightheartedly answered, your voice sounding a bit weaker than before. Now, you could see the docks as they stretched into the infinity of indigo waters, awaiting your arrival with eternal patience — and the sound of the waves! Dear Gods, what a mellifluous symphony to your ears it would be, you could imagine it from the heights of where you currently stood. 

"Your whole life has been one big event." Kara clicks her tongue, "they say wars and harsh winters came to a halt when you were born─" Kara begins to list out with an exasperated sigh─ "but oh! even a suitor, a marriage, a throne sound like a much more bigger event than any one you've ever had, princess. Your equivocal expression gives it away." For a moment she pauses before her brown eyes meet your dignified own. "Are you sure you can do this on your own? Don’t you need more time?” 

There was an image in which many people painted the face of the princess. They say that women in your place have no choice in their stead, no autonomy when it came to ideas such as marriage and fertility. The purpose of a woman is to serve man; this inferior purpose which has haunted your mother for yours and went beyond to ensure that you would not meet the same fate as she. Of course, you knew what men expected of you— what princes, kings, boys expected of you. Kara saw this written all over your face and out of everyone in this castle, she decided to speak up about it. She was too Kind. Too genuine.

Concerned. 

“Time?” You repeat the word. “I don’t need time, Kara,” you offer a convincing smile, “I need my people. That is all that matters.” 

Kara decided not to speak. She once understood this loneliness that sat within your heavy heart; the absence of warmth to hold you close, the space between your fingers seemingly more latent. If a traveller visited this realm of Arcadia, they would never be aware of your forbidden fantasies that tore through you by gelid brick walls, pushed away by the comeuppance of a supposedly arranged marriage. The adventurer would simply look away from this realm, from the castle, take in its beauty, and magnificence, and walk away; oblivious to the curse that resided within. 

And if the traveller was smart enough, they would never return to such forsaken lands. 

I need my people. Kara echoed those words in her head. She would never know what it was like to be in your shoes. That is all that matters. 

Whether this was the inevitable circumstance that led you to make your decisions— this curse that you carried in your heart and this burden of royalty that you carried with your body— Kara will never understand. And you would hope to keep it that way, for nobody deserved to carry the same apprehensions that you had grown up with. 

The girl spoke with simplicity and with an affirming smile, “I believe you.”

Of course, as Kara spoke that, it came to become more than a lie. There was something within your irises that she could never decipher— for you always seemed content, accepting of your fate. There are many things that you were limited to doing, you had once described to her the desire to feel the cool spring breeze during the festivals; the caresses of the leaves throughout harvest season; drowning in the reverberating voices of the bravading sailors and sellers which filled up the market. 

In a silent prayer, Kara thought for you, that your future husband— the man that you will serve as Queen and Wife— would give you the sultry taste of life beyond your walls. She’d hope, she’d beg. For as undeserving as you exhibit yourself to her, Kara knew better than anyone that this is exactly what you needed. 

“Not for ourselves alone are we born,” you stand up from your spot as the tenderness of your hues narrows in her direction. You rest a hand on her shoulder to squeeze gently and then, you dismiss yourself from her presence. “That is what duty calls.” 

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through my fault ⸝⸝ satoru gojo x reader

a fabricated lady with a mixed idea of love and duty. it was as foretold; would there truly be no more queens posterior to her? if not, would she marry for love or marry for duty?

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❬ 002 ❭ through my fault ⸝⸝ hence, mother knows best

synopsis. desperate to find you a suitor to expand the kingdom, your mother finds ways to ensure that you rule in her image; even if that means breaking your relationship with your future husband.

genre. arranged marriage, royalty au, slow burn, +18

warnings. politics, undertones of manipulation

wc. 7.4K — a 20-30 minute read

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`"I wonder what the prince is up to?"

Far from the gelid lands of Arcadia, a Silvern prince; a frail prince, lived within the walls of this castle. There are rumours surrounding the man, for as one speaks of him, the whispers of falsity and concern came upon with his name.

Satoru Gojo, who was the lonesome Prince of Myriad.

"Why, princely duties, of course!"

The diminutive land belonging to the Gojos fell in symphonies of shock and interest as the words of messengers, noble people, and commoners spoke of the prevailing announcement that King [F/N] of Arcadia is bedridden and the backbone of the kingdom is collapsing. Surprisingly so, their decision is dependent on their so-called Cursed Princess' choice. A marriage unifying two kingdoms. It was a wise decision for most, but many came to despise Arcadia as a forsaken land for even the stupidest people know not to depend on broken rulers.

So they thought, of course. What do such commonfolk know about ruling a kingdom, anyway? Was it the gold embroidered around thrones; to flaunt such luxury? Was it the absolute monarchy over the people? Was it the aristocratic linkage that held kingdoms together? Or was it the pressure of keeping ongoing lineage— to breed, to raise, to marry, to rule? Was ruling a cycle for such royals or is there a deeper meaning behind holding ascendancy over their land?

What do they really know?

In a county surrounded by small commoners, a royal crier held up a scroll in front of him with one hand. His mustache is sleek and pointing outwards as he scrunches his nose to prepare for his following announcement. This royal crier, to which the young Satoru Gojo, recognized as one of his mother's servants, finally cleared his throat — quite obnoxiously — to gather the attention of the people.

"Hear Ye! Hear Ye!" The crier had called for the attention of the people. "On this day, two weeks hence, in the Palace of Arcadia there will be held a Royal Ball! At said ball, in accordance to ancient custom: Princess of Arcadia, Her Highness [Y/N], shall choose a spouse. Furthermore! At the behest of the Princess, it is hereby declared that every maiden and man in the kingdom, be them noble or commoner, is invited to attend. Such is the command of our most noble Queen Aia."

This would be the third time that week that the young man would have heard that announcement. For as he hid within the crowd of commoners, with his hood lifted over his handsome face, he could see everything just as well as he could hear everything. Whispers among young women arose within every corner of where he walked, he was very much entertained by such a commotion— it was merely just a ball! What's so special about one ball?

Ah, of course. How could the young prince forget? This ball was hosted by a—

"...cursed princes, that's what she is! Or so I've heard." A young peasant girl had squealed.

Her acquaintance hummed, "but what of the king; won't he have a funeral?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if he was murdered," said another unnamed maiden, "there's a lot going on in that forsaken kingdom... best we think naught of it."

There were a few things that many of the commoners forget about the announcement with the king. They only spoke of him as bedridden: nothing more. So nobody truly knows if he was dead or not, and even if he was at this fine moment, nobody would know of it until weeks after. As much as nobles loved to flaunt, royal families are quite exclusive about news such as that. And when it came to Arcadia, Satoru was indifferent about the tales within those castles; if he knew any better he wouldn't so much as think about what goes on in that kingdom.

But of course, this is Satoru Gojo: and he didn't know any better— or at least, he chooses not to.

"Excuse me, ladies, but if you don't mind me asking—" Satoru approaches the bickering maidens— "would you point me to where the Kugisaki seamstresses are?"

His voice came forth like silk among linen, easily swooning the women as their attention shifted toward the young Gojo. The white-haired man flashes a pearly smile, only barely visible under the silhouette of his hood. On of the two, fights the urge to fan her heating face when Satoru shifts his auric gaze toward her.

"Right up north, sir," clad in pink, she points in the direction. Her hair was fixed upwards in pigtail curls, lips masked with this rufescent tint. 

The second one, a little shorter than she was, then adds, "to your left will be their wooden sign!"

"Many thanks, my ladies." Satoru flashes an amorous smile. "Have a good morning."

Inside the Kugisaki Shoppe, two noble ladies clean up after themselves. An abundance of weapons laid out in one corner as a young Zenin lady cleaned up after herself, while on the other side of said boutique, a young Kugisaki girl organized orders upon orders of suits, dresses, and uniforms. This was a shop in which many royals, nobles, and commoners alike came to find attire with the best of quality.

"The princess must be quite desperate if they're repeating announcements upon announcements upon announcements!" Nobara dragged her words with a dramatic gesture, her hands shooting upwards as she slumped.

Maki acknowledged her with a hum, "uh-huh."

"So lucky that lady is, to have so many men, women— kings and queens!— at her feet." Nobara continues to speak about the most recent and popular invitation. "She even invited the commoners! What kind of sane— or absurdly kind— princess would do that? Even I wouldn't bat an eye toward the peasants!"

“Uh-huh.”

Nobara rolls her eyes, "give me a little praise, will you? I'm just saying, Princess [Y/N] is just so... so unpredictable! She's incredibly wealthy, incredibly beautiful— from so I've heard— and so incredibly cursed. And despite that, so many men wish to marry her. Do you think that Prince Satoru would consider it?"

"That's nonsense, Nobara. What sane man would want to marry a cursed princess?" Maki retorts in a matter-of-fact tone.

In response to the previous' girl's words, Maki stood firmly with her statement as she continued to clean the abundance of spears before her. The brunette frowns at that, standing over the woman in spectacles as she crosses her arms over her chest. "But of course, there would be a solution to every curse! A lovely prince to break it~" Sang Nobara and Maki rolls her eyes at the hopeless romantic, pursing her lips together.

"Do you even know what the curse is?" Maki asks incredulously, while skillfully holding the spear in one hand to play with.

"Keep that thing away from me, Maki! You might ruin my dress!" Nobara shrieks at the woman's movements, briefly scolding her. Then subsequent to a suspire, the girl shakes her head obliviously. "And no, I'm not very sure of what her curse is... a lot of people have mixed feelings about it, you know? Like—" Nobara gestures with her hands— "perhaps she can turn into a monster at night, or that she has the ability to steal your soul... witchassery kind of stuff..."

Maki ignores the girl's crude language, "everything there is to know about her are nothing but a bunch of fables and tales." Nobara listened in interest and Maki's words came as followed: "Nobody truly knows what her curse is. No one but her family, I presume, which is why many are afraid of her."

Right, because what you don't know or understand is what you're most afraid of.

Maki fixed the weapons into a large bag, effortlessly carrying it on her back. The dark-haired girl, unlike other women of noble standing, wore around her waist a shorter skirt that flowed easily whenever she walked. She was dressed in attire with the intent to fight and not look pretty; quite the opposite of the brown-haired girl. Maki had been serving in the Gojo Castle as a lady-in-waiting alongside Nobara, and despite this frail position she found solace in training with the prince on his free time.

"Well, what about you, Maki?" Nobara asks. "Are you afraid of her?"

The dark-haired girl had run away from her family's clutches at the age of 15, running into the Gojo Clan upon trying to steal from one of their servants. Instead of being punished by the family, however, the current Regent Queen of the Gojo family had taken Maki in. It was no secret that she was a Zenin girl, for what distinguishes a woman who was raised in the Zenin household and a woman from any other family would be the mark on their backs that resembled their family crest.

Maki shakes her head, smiling idly. "What's there to be afraid of? She's merely just be a princess, Nobara. Rumours are bound."

Before the younger girl had the opportunity to speak, the two ladies were greeted by the uninvited presence of the prince who nonchalantly waltzed around town in a less than believable disguise. The door to the shop opened with the shrill harmony of bells, Satoru's long legs striding inside as he set down his hood to reveal his youthful face.

"Maki, Nobara!~ How are you, ladies?" He smiled widely while offering the dark-haired girl a hand with the abundance of weapons sitting on her back. Much to the Gojo's amusement, Maki declined his help.

"We were just talking about the recent announcement from Arcadia." Nobara shrugs. Unaffected by the flippancy of the brunette's tone, Satoru continued to listen to the young lady speak. Commonly, a woman would greet the prince or princess of the palace with a bow or courtesy, but with Satoru he saw past such traditional roles and behaviour as he taught his younger acquaintances not to treat him like so. For he was more than this prince that many seemed to look up to with immeasurable expectancy. "At first we were speaking about the bad omens surrounding the poor lady, but until you came, I was about to bring up the topic of who is willing to marry that princess..."

Nobara glances at the dark-haired girl.

In distinction to the way that both ladies stood, they could catch the way the light-haired man's irises beamed in curiosity. From the way the older prince absorbed the information— as well as the unmistakable simper that marked its way on his handsome face— Maki's lips gaped open as she scoffed in disbelief. "Oh no. No, no, no, you're not actually considering—"

Satoru blows a raspberry, crossing his arms over his chest and almost immediately he responded, "I was only thinking about it." He scratches his cheek sheepishly, though his words said one thing his countenance expressed a whole different implication. "Besides, it would be about the right time for me to take over the throne one day, you know? Mother isn't exactly in the brightest position as we speak..."

Maki rolls her eyes, "and what makes you think that you're in any position to make such drastic commitments?"

What came out as a harsh question was taken as a sermon, for to Satoru, the idea of taking the crown for himself was nothing short of bliss. He had been concealed in this castle for too long, the protectiveness of his mother was not something he despised as he knew well of the weight that a crown may carry. But as a new arrival of suitors, queens, and princesses presented themselves to him; Satoru can only advocate the idea that—

"—I'm ready," was the silvern man's response, "and I'm bored."

That's a lie, Maki thought, who would do this out of boredom?

When Satoru looks down, he could already see how the way her honey-coloured eyes are tempered with the impassion of a thousand suns, for not even Icarus dared to meet her fiery gaze, "and you came to this decision because you were 'bored'?" It would seem that she completely disregarded his first statement, but Satoru did not see to it to bring it up once more. This was a picky topic for Maki— just as it was for him, but he did not treat it like so. "And Arcadia, of all kingdoms, why would you choose Arcadia?"

In addition to Maki's words, Nobara continues, "with all due respect, my Prince, but isn't that a little careless?"

The white-haired man shrugs, "I'd like to do something of my own accord for once. I'm sure my mother wouldn't mind that." And before Maki could retort with her own personal declarations, Satoru faces the younger girl with an all-too radiant smile. "Don't worry, Maki. I wouldn't dare do anything that you would dislike. Be grateful that I am not explicitly considering the Zenin's— I never did, anyway."

He had attempted to make the final sentence come out as a joke, but Maki's feelings came out within one distant suspire; "You're an idiot, Satoru." She had spoken the first name of her teacher for the first time that day, so casually, so venomously; for a moment Satoru felt uneasy because of her following words. "The people of Arcadia are in alliance with the Zenin's, don't you know?"

Of course Satoru knew, but he thought nothing of it because he knew that Maki was not worried about the idea that Zen'ins might just grow in power with the company of the Gojos; she was disturbed about the idea of having to see them again.

"The [L/N]'s and Zenin's are two different families, Maki." Unaffected by her words, Satoru remains apathetic with the way she clenched her fist beside the skirt of her dress. "Just because one is affiliated with the other, does not remotely mean that they are the same kind. You should know that much about us by now."

'Us,' that is what Satoru referred to his kin as a part of a royal family as well as a part of the kingdoms that sought dominion along with these Earthly lands. Many would see such as indifferent from each other; for every kingdom had their own kings and queens, dukes and duchesses; these domains possessing such prowess and authority. They were no different from each other, for every Royal was the same— that is what people often assumed, that is what Maki assumed.

Not once has Maki doubted Satoru, he, the Prince that had oh-so mercilessly taken under his wing despite belonging to a family that despised him. Maki had little respect for him as a man of his own characteristics, but as a Prince, who was soon to be King, Maki knows that in her own head, Satoru Gojo was in a league of his own as a ruler. He was special, that is what she believed, he was special and extremely unpredictable; so is it right for her to judge his choices?

"How can you be so sure that this is the right decision?" Maki finally spoke in question.

A smile makes its way onto his handsome face and the man lifts his blindfold to meet the younger girl's determined irises. "I know." His voice laced with confidence and he pats both girls on their heads, having no regard for the way Nobara shoots him a scowl. "I suppose it's alright to trust your gut sometimes. But I'll let you know that if I end up disliking my decision, I'll allow you to say 'I told you so.'" He chuckled. "If the time comes, of course. But when is that ever the case?"

"Does this mean your mother doesn't know?" Nobara finally speaks up in question. "Yet, at least... it has been a while since we have gone out of the palace for such an event, from what I've recalled. I'm afraid it might startle her, even." Nobara was an easily-concerned girl, though she hid it behind the face of materialism and boldness, she knew the Queen like the back of her hand. Having been raised to serve her as a handmaid at one point, it only came naturally that the young girl would think about the older lady's wellbeing.

"She'll know when I return to the castle." Satoru pats her head, grinning at her perturb. "And besides, I was prepared for this moment. I know I'm ready, so there is no need to worry." His expression was enough to convince both girls as they bow their heads politely at the Prince. In that moment of silence, Maki couldn't help but feel uneasy about his decision. But alas, this was the Satoru Gojo that she had learned to acknowledge. He was unpredictable and she knew that sometimes, it is better not to know what is truly going on in his head. "Now, onto the purpose of my visitation!"

Maki's thoughts are ripped from the space of her head as she unamusingly faces the loud Prince. "Right, of course," said Maki in a murmur.

"The ball is in two weeks and I'd like you to tailor for me the finest suit." Satoru holds up a finger as he speaks, Nobara hums slowly as she listens to the Prince. Much to her relief, Maki took out some ink and paper so that she could write down his request. "As for my mother, She would like for her gown to be turquoise; made from the finest silk, of course, and I promise to pay you accordingly."

Nobara hums, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yeah? How much?"

"Depends on the finished product," the prince responds suggestively.

"Is that a joke or a challenge?" Nobara raises her brows.

Maki sighs, "you say that about everything, Nobara."

"300,000 yen. Take it or leave it." Gojo grins. "I'm sure that is—"

"—more than enough!" Nobara clasps her hands together, her cheeks flaming with delight as her response seemed to please the young Gojo. "It shall be done by then, your highness!" Nobara had spoken out in glee and with that.

Venturing back to his home, embracing the dominating gigantism it radiated, Satoru could not help but feel... embarrassed. It had been a long time since he had brought up the idea of responsibility to his mother. He was always one who liked to do things on his own; no assistance, only guidance. Sure, he has had a fair share of lectures from his mother— a prince does not speak with his mouth full! or a prince is always mindful of his subjects. Never has his mother addressed him as a future heir to the throne. Was it because she believed he was not ready? What was she afraid of?

The Silvern prince was also embarrassed because he felt... nervous. Pride and confidence came naturally to him. In essence, he had always been a hard-headed boy, often regarding his own curiousities and ponderations more than he regarded his place as a noble. He barely asked for help, for he was always the one offering that helping hand. Satoru was a kind prince, a curious one. This trait allowed commoners and other neighbouring countries to perceive him as frail.

Upon greeting his mother's ladies-in-waiting with a kind smile, he approaches his mother's meditation room with a mindful guard. She was a very spiritual woman, having the highest remarks about the importance of her peace and mind. The woman had attempted to pass this mindset of hers to her son, but Satoru— choosing not to know any better— was an explosive universe of cerebrations. He did not want to limit himself, because he wanted to live his life with infinite ambitions.

The young prince could recall his mothers words for him when he was a young teenager; that as a prince, decision making would mean that he dies at every exhale, and comes back to life with every inhale. She said that, when he is holding a sword in front of an enemy, every movement can be his last; every attack his downfall. There is no right or wrong; no fast or slow, there is only him.

Him, and the thin line that separates one eternal exhale from other countless ones.

Perhaps that's the reason the Gojo's were presented as the most notorious. After all: his energy, his unshakable confidence and prideful nature; but also the experience and wisdom only the merciless could provide. Satoru had the eyes of a hunter, the reflexes of a feline; a heart that burned in passion and a lively soul that saw no evil — but also knew how to defeat it, if told to do so.

Lord Satoru, Prince of Myriad — as he was known around the kingdom — was the perfect Prince. He had the obedience, but he also had the individuality. Had the muscles, but also the intelligence. He was quiet and then loud, patient and then immediatist. He was fluid as a river, laughing at the face of entropy and surprising his enemies at every new battle. He was inconstant, he was unpredictable. He was feared. Respected. 

But that, of course, was merely the image commoners and fellow knights and nobles among kingdoms had of him. To only a few, Satoru was far more complex — much more damaged — than that. Beyond the spark of innocence within his eyes, there was the lost, lonely soul of a forgotten child; of a boy who had to fight to survive, who found himself holding the sword he once ran from. The image of the Gojo was forged in the fear he now cultivated in the hearts of his enemies — and that was the reason why he despised such presumptuous title.

"Frail Prince" some would claim him to be, for he barely went out of his castle unless it was a noble event. "A would-be Strong Ruler" was what others would say, as he was raised and fabricated under his father's strong ideals and his mother's incomparable grace; and he saw himself as such. He wasn't just a prince within this realm of Myriad, no, for the stars have foretold his destiny as a ruler: King Satoru Gojo of Myriad. And the truth behind that prophecy, began with you.

"I want to marry the Princess of Arcadia."

Satoru's mother, an elegant woman who was much more shorter than her son, was clad in a beautiful turquoise gown that dragged behind her as she walked. Her platinum locks contrasted Satoru's white own, making her appear younger than she originally was. But it was the wise crow's feet that kissed on the corners of her eyes and the smiling lines on her cheeks, that exhibited her years of ruling and years of sapient knowledge that she had come to acquire. The woman, Saeko Gojo, raised a thin brow at her son's statement, facing the young boy as he strides toward her.

"Did I hear that correctly, son?" She inquired, approaching the man as she rests her aging fingers against his cheek. "Surely, I must be hearing things. You want to do what, Satoru?"

Saeko was an intelligent, graceful, and incredibly kind woman. But she was also easily startled. She often overthinked, and was quite overprotective over those around her; from her ladies-in-waiting, the handmaid's that have served her, to her son— the Prince.

"Well, mother..." Satoru cleared his throat, feeling himself stiffen as he struggled to formulate his following words. "I have heard various announcements about the Princess of Arcadia, Lady [Y/N], and her most recent aspirations... she is searching for a suitor and, well, I believe that this is an opportunity for me to find my place as a King."

His mother remained silent, curling her hands to her side in thought. "That princess... Arcadia, you say? Why not elsewhere?"

"Pardon me?" Satoru blinked a few times.

His mother did not seem against the idea of a marriage, was what Satoru thought, but what did people have against Arcadia?

Saeko purses her scarlet-painted lips together before releasing a sigh. "Satoru, that Princess in Arcadia is accursed. You cannot be betrothed to a woman who lives with a horrible omen!" The lady fans her face dramatically and Satoru forces himself not to sigh loudly when she continues to speak. "She is cursed, my boy. Why would you consider her as a candidate to rule Myriad as Queen?"

This is exactly what he had overheard Maki and Nobara say. Why do they speak so illy of the kingdom?

"Arcadia is also in need of a King, mother," Satoru attempts to counter, "we are just has helpless as they are. We are strong, yes, but many might take advantage of our vulnerable situation—"

"—that girl is damned." Saeko repeats sternly. "God help her soul, but we shall not get involved with such a impuissant family."

Satoru crosses his arms imprudently, raising the question that has lingered within the depths of his trepidations upon the very first time that he has heard of your existence as "The Cursed Princess of Arcadia." Satoru speaks out loud, leaning against one of the pillars with a narrowed look. "Cursed... cursed... how so?"

His mother's heels click as she paces around the room, seemingly thinki carefully about her following words. "Ah!" As if a lightbulb had presumptuously lit up above her head, she pointed a matter-of-factory finger up toward her son. "Well, there was a village eradicated under her rule—"

"That was 43 years ago, mother," Satoru interrupts, "way before she and I were even born. And the patriarch would never allow for an unmarried woman of royalty to rule over such vast lands... that is simply... unacceptable to the church."

And as absurd as that speculation was, it was true; Satoru knew better than many that women are frowned upon on the seat of the throne— this such includes his mother who has been ruling in her husband's light for many years since his death.

Satoru was well aware of his books. Often clinging onto such knowledge like a mantra. It was what his father would have wanted after all. He had the privilege of higher education, he had access to books, scrolls, and writings dating back to the very first monarch. The Gojo's were strong, but they were not terrible: for knowledge had always been their greatest ally. And so, king upon king; legacy upon legacy; Satoru wanted to follow the tradition of education within the dynasty, and that began with his wit with his books. The young prince may have had the grace that his mother so easily embraced, but he also possessed the heart of a formidable ruler— a trait he had thanks to his great father.

His mother, however, saw past such writings as she was concerned for the conservation of their lineage. She was ecstatic that her son wished to consider marrying for his rightful title as King, but she was also anxious about the ominous myths and whispers regarding the Kingdom of Arcadia.

"And what about that great famine that fell upon their kingdom...?" His mother was restless as she was looking for excuses at this point. "Their rise in taxes! The demand for crops..?"

Satoru was amused by his mothers claims and he further entertained her ideas with a minuscule smile. "Again, mother, was under King [F/N]'s rule and his wife, Queen Aia." The white-haired man watches the way his mother's expression morphs into one of defeat. Satoru continues to speak. "If anything, her parents are perceived as tyrants, but I do believe not her."

"The witch! Oh, the wicked witch, Satoru. she had conspired with the child on her sixth birthday I heard! What else could that possibly mean?" His mother seemed insufferable in the eyes of others, but to Satoru she were merely porotective. What else could he do other than to accept that she was so stubborn?

"She was just a child," the prince immediately counters, "if I were, say, visited by a witch or a warlock or a sorcerer as a child, would you accuse me of being so damned?"

"Of course not, you are my son—"

"Then what difference could that possibly make for Princess [Y/N]?" Satoru then responded, choosing not to point out the sudden shift on the atmosphere. He noticed melancholy clawing its ways through his mother's thoughts. But Satoru continued to insist, stepping toward his mother with long strides. "Allow me to visit her kingdom at the ball, hosted two weeks from today. If I do not like her, I shall listen to your advices and give you the pleasure of choosing my partner for me."

"But my boy, you are frail—"

Satoru was aware that his mother immersed herself in royal gossip that roamed within the walls of his own home. From the lowest of maidens to the highest of priests— sometimes, even the archbishop! The boy knew, there was always something buzzing about within his kingdom of Myriad.

It was profoundly irritating how flawlessly his mind recalled the vexious timbre of those lower class servants, echoing those sentences at the back of his mind — as much as he was truly grateful for their loyalty and assistance, the constant bickering could be extremely invasive to endure, "The gods continuously play games with my patience," he took a deep breath, pretending to be more bothered than he actually felt. "How could you use that against me?" He almost whined and his mother frowns at that. "Frail, is not what I am," responded the man, "the only reason people perceive me for such a thing is because I hide behind the shadow of a Queen waiting to be removed— you, mother. when I am married, king, emperor of this barren kingdom; I shall be and by will, become the strongest ruler. Not for you, not for father, but for my people; and if not, myself." 

His mother knew that none of this was fun and games for her son. He was serious about this, about the kingdom that would soon be his; about you, no matter how cursed or ill-thought of as you were around the lands. She let out a small sigh and briefly the woman swooned at her own son who seemed to grow out of this skin that always hid behind her.

"Alas spoken like a true King." Saeko rests both her hands against his cheeks, admiring her grown boy. Then she adds, "praise be."

"It's what you raised me to do, mother," Satoru smiled wryly, "mother knows best."

Everything in this castle, no matter how long you have spent roaming these walls have always been, for the lack of a better term, blurry. Between the images you contemplated and the light and shadow that built them together, lived a myriad of shapes and glows that you could never quite characterize, but accompanied you regardless of your approval. It was as if different tenses coexisted at the very same instant, actions sometimes delayed by mere seconds, but when placed on top of one another, turned into a kaleidoscopic progression of phantasmagoric forms. It was both dream-like and nightmarish; comforting and threatening. Hallucinatory, even.

Among the endless shelves of the Library, your eyes trained toward those white steps that were dangerously similar to a creature's teeth, the waltz of coordinated books appeared to be a tongue moving in its interior. There was something about those endless stairs drowning in penumbra that felt like a forewarning to you, the image of the consequences you could face if you were not careful enough.

"[Y/N]? How does this look?"

Your eyes flickered over toward the inky paper that Kara held up. Her fingers trembling as she held firmly a feather on her left hand and on her right, she held up a sheet that so messily had the writings of her soon-to-be surname: Geto. You had almost forgotten that you were helping your best friend practice scripting her further name, as you found yourself immersed by the countless mysteries of this castle.

You haven't been yourself since the announcement of the ball, that was for sure.

"I think you're getting better." You point out gracefully. You bring a finger toward her letter 'r' and add, "that looks like an 'n' so you should fix that as well." You help the dark-haired woman, taking her hand to assist her. It was quite difficult teaching her, as she was dominantly left-handed, but you attempted to help her albeit this situation. You are her friend and it was the least that you could do.

Her mouth gaped at that, eyes gazing at the stygian letters that ornamented the sheet's surface, "must scripting be so difficult?" She wails silently — considering you both were in the library — and she puckers her lips in a slight huff. "You have to do this everyday, right? Don't your wrists get exhausted, princess?"

"They do, but it is my duty to keep moving forward," a small laugh escapes your lips.

"Duty this, duty that—" Kara's tongue swept through the surface of her lips briefly as she continued to speak, unaware of the presence that approached the both of you— "you should give yourself more credit, [Y/N]. Stop boring yourself with these duties and live a little."

You shrug, "I will," but then as your words flow out of your mouth, your chest tightens, "after I've accomplished what needs to be done, Kara. That is the story of my life, after all."

Before Kara could further counter your claims, you could hear the clicks of heels within your proximity and your head moves upwards as you are greeted by the face of your—

"Mother?" you called out, surprised. Mindlessly, your fingers held the thin feather with more force than necessary, eyes falling to the unbelonging turquoise-covered book in her hands. "What are you doing here?"

The Queen raised her eyebrows at your flippant tone, gaze traveling gradually to your direction. As she saw you, a faint smile effloresced upon her features, causing for wrinkles to accumulate on the sides her tired eyelids, "This is a lovely environment to think, I suppose that is why you come here so often," she answered with simplicity, closing the object in her hands with a muffled sound. "I am glad I could find you today, though, we need to start thinking about your wedding arrangements."

You were taken aback by her sudden sentence, but immediately you acknowledge her claims with a slight nod. "O-Of course..." You set down the feather, glancing at Kara briefly. Followed by a suspire, the both of you are also startled by the presence of Suguru making his way in your direction.

Upon seeing her fiancé's figure approaching her, Kara yelps and the small container of ink falls on her dress. Her clumsy nature was something you'd never underestimate, but her timing has always been horrible. Your mother watches with a raised brow, the dress that has been gifted to her was soiled and the Queen's unreadable expression only made you feel more the worst. You feel yourself tense at her behaviour, almost praying to whatever Gods above to help her poor soul.

If any shadows of horror were casted over her features, your best friend managed to disguise them well. "Oh dear...!" She tried scrubbing the ink of her dress with her hands, only it spread further. What was she doing?! You almost wailed.

Much to your distress, Suguru came to her rescue as he came by her side. "This is quite a familiar sight, love," chuckled the man, "allow me to take my fiancé to her chambers to clean up, while I leave both Her Highnesses to it." He bows respectfully, taking Kara's inky hands without hesitation, and leaving the library.

You heave out a long sigh.

"I apologize for that disorderly commotion, mother," you apologize on behalf of your friend, "about the wedding preparations... would you like to speak at the—"

Sculpted by the evening lights that came from the window, her features were immersed in scalding hues, burning in amber and gold, "the library is inhabited, my dear, so we can stay here." She had gestured for you to take a seat on the spot where Kara was before. "The ball is coming to a close, I'm afraid, and we still haven't thought about the dress you'd be wearing."

"We've got plenty of time—" you tried to speak but once more you were interrupted by your mother's words.

"—I'm not talking about time, [Y/N], I'm talking about quality. There will be many suitors coming after all," she nodded, and you heard something other than calmness in her tone. There was a hidden prospect in her stance, a mysterious reason for her presence in such place, "thus I've developed a schedule for you. That way you don't have to waste your time here—" she gestured with her hands, clearly referring to your time spent with Kara— "and that way, we may do things more efficiently. I've also bought products from opposing kingdoms that will definately suit this occasion..." Oblivious to your own actions, you stood in place, rigid. She began to ramble with no regard of this buzz in your head. "Perhaps you'd like white lilies to match the fabric? They would look marvelous decorating your hair, and I do believe they are in season! And your skin, oh, we must fix that immediately as no man wants a prickled face!"

As she kept talking, filling your head with future preparations and repetitive requests, the confusion and averse thoughts you had endured for so long bubbled fervently inside of your stomach. Before you could censor yourself, all that exploded on your lips in the form of a simple question: "mother, what if... I'm not ready...?"

Your mother blinked, shaking her head slightly at the disruption. "I'm sorry, love?"

"What if I don't feel ready?" You clarified. "I know, I've been studying this my whole life, but with father's decline I wish to spend more time with him and not on... this." You choose your following words cautiously, knowing one wrong thought might disappoint the Queen.

"It was your father's request, my dear," she tried to sound punctual with her sentences— she did not want to appear as the bad guy, as she understood your circumstances. But if it were her decision, you'd be married without this long waiting period; if she could, she would have chosen a suitor for you already.

You shake your head slightly, your fingers falling on top of each other as you fidget. "We both know that, once father meets the Gods, you could be the Regent Queen for as long as Arcadia were to need." You tried to reason. "You're much better at this than I ever will be— the people, they trust in you more than they do in me." You were looking for excuses at this point.

Even if you managed to mask your nervousness well, you were terrified. You've heard plenty of stories from your ladies-in-waiting about how they are treated by their husbands. Some don't come home at all, some are treated to harshly, and most only regard your ladies as baby-rearing machines— it was a disgusting thought, but it was a reality for most women. And when you thought about your mother, you often wondered, is this how she felt when her family offered her to your father?

"Arcadia does not need me," your mother smiled, placing her hands in front of her scarlet dress — deep as blood. "They need you, love. They want hope, not the same old—"

"—Mother, stop," deep inside your mind, you could not believe that you were talking back to your family member like that, interrupting the Queen like she was nothing above a irritating maid. "Can't I wait a little longer? Let me convince father that it is too soon."

You could see as her superior posture slowly broke underneath the harshness of your gaze. The Queen, facing your moral judgment, saw in your eyes that you understood more than the untruths dripping from her mouth — she had raised you for that, after all. You would be a marvelous ruler one day, "Dear, your..." she started, taking that battle as lost. "Your father is fragile, I am fragile. I may hold an equal respect as he does, but that is because I earned it; you must win these peoples hearts and that begins with a reliable man."

Your thoughts move back toward Kara. She was to be married soon as well and as happy as you were for her, you were envious that she had one thing that you did not: time. She had so much time. With her fiancé, her family, and herself. You pondered, did she have to think about the satisfaction of her significant other when she heard that she would be wedded to him? Did she feel just as anxious as you did?

"How long do I have after the ball until the wedding ceremony?" You mustered up, feeling your fingers grow numb at this thought of burden falling on your shoulders. Truthfully, you believed that you weren't ready— you never could be ready.

She traced her fingers over one of the golden letters embedded against a book, humming to herself. "I am speculating little less than three months. Plenty of time to get familiar with your future husband." The final sentence seemed to be more of a forewarning than one of comfort.

"I see, mother," your eyes snapped back to her face in a quiet prayer that she did not notice the way you had spaced out too long, your expression surfacing into one of of apathy; to which masked your fear of the future, fear for what's to come. "Thank you for... your time and assistance."

She faked a smirk, ignoring the clear sarcasm in your tone — no amount of petulance from your part could cover up the fact that she had, as desired, reached her primordial goal: you would choose a prince then get married, and your people would be saved. Alongside with her reputation, that was, "No problem, my dear, your mother knows what's best, after all!" She sang, seeming to quickly be reminded of something else, "And, oh!" your mother exclaimed, "tell your dear lady, Kara, congratulations on her engagement with Geto. She chose a very fine man… it's a shame you didn't get to him first." She murmurs the final part.

But you heard that.

"Pardon me?" You wanted her to repeat her claims, feeling your own ears were deceiving you.

"Nothing my dear, just relay her congratulations," you let out a sigh of relief when she repeats her words. "I will be retiring to my chambers now. Don't forget to pray about your future, the archbishop recommends it." She eyes your direction and you nod slowly, bowing your head in respect. "And don't over think it—" you wanted her to comfort you, and you expected her to do so, but instead her words came as followed: "the wrinkles would look horrible at your age."

You took a deep breath. Your internal battle had been lost before it even started. "I understand it is for the best," you were lying to yourself— to her. Were these dishonest claims all a product of your anxiety toward what's to come with your future husband?

The Queen chuckled, entertained, "I know you do," with a last caress on your shoulder, she started to walk towards the dark passageway, every step sending shivers down your spine. You stood there, motionless, as the sounds of her departure seemed to echo inside your mind. Behind you, her timbre sliced the air one last time. "Have a lovely evening, sweetheart. I will start looking for white lilies for your dress today."

Her heels clicked as she walked away.

With that, the door clicked shut.

You knew that in the following mornings, more and more expectations would bear against your shoulders. And as a princess, it was inevitable for you to follow such duties; to please your mother.

You felt certain after all, she was there to guide you because she knew what was best for you.

Hence, mother knows best.

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❬ 003 ❭ through my fault ⸝⸝ a good feeling

synopsis. desperate to find you a suitor to expand the kingdom, your mother finds ways to ensure that you rule in her image; even if that means breaking your relationship with your future husband.

genre. arranged marriage, royalty au, slow burn, +18

warnings. mentions of politics

wc. 8.9K — a 40-45 minute read

authors note. this was a longer one to write... but I enjoyed the process so i hope you guys enjoy reading it too >:))

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Hyperborean winds caressed the fluctuating curtains of your chambers after night had fully arrived, whispering over auric tapestry and caressing the silky sheets of your bed. Through your window passed silvery strings of moonlight, which immersed the ambient in a cadaveric, almost unrealistic glow. With your hands placed upon your knees, you absentmindedly accompanied the swinging of the fine fabric as it traced circular forms in the air. Sitting on the corner of your large bed, you were surrounded by small mountains of roseate sheets, appearing to be a forgotten element amongst that unbothered universe. Inside your mind, however, your contemplations ran by in mercurial velocity.  

Even if you had been immersed in your duties, you could not help but notice the way that your best friend escaped the few instances you shared throughout the day. She was out wine-tasting with her fiancé and she did not cross you in the halls of your stone-made home. It was a busy day for Kara, to say the least, and it was quite lonely without her— had you always depended on her to help you feel entertained throughout the day? 

Two days until the ball and still you were timid about what might come for you. 

You were still looking out your window when a knock resonated in your obscure chambers. At the intermission, you became startled, hugging your nightgown against your chest in a natural move to cover yourself up — what the court teaches you about female decency never truly leaves your mind. It was a huge shame for someone to see the princess so ridiculously exposed, "Who is it?" You reluctantly questioned, slowly getting to your feet and walking towards the door. Behind you, the night stretched out above the village, bringing along the vague scent of the sea; underneath your feet, the stone was as cold as the water that crashed underneath the docks.

Your head peeks out of the entrance of your bedroom, locking eyes with your best friend. She greets you with a tired smile, "let's sneak out," she started, "your mother is asleep and it's the perfect night for stargazing." 

"This late?" You inquire. 

The younger girl nods. "When has that ever stopped you, princess?" She counters. "Come, grab a blanket and let's go!" She whispers enthusiastically. Quickly, you grab a light blanket from underneath your bedside table, wrapping it around your shoulders before allowing the dark-haired girl to grab your wrist as she silently leads you to the back of the castle. 

Where the trees seem to surround the hill that both you and your best friend lay on, the constellations cascade through the evening sky. You could see the outline of the lake from where the both of you stood, with the blankets wrapped around your bodies, the wind fell swoop. In Kara's hands, she held a book; one she has been reading to you for quite a while now. 

"We're in the final chapter," said Kara as she flipped to the page bookmarked with a red string, "the female lead is about to face her parents... this has gotten quite intense, hasn't it?" Kara giggles to herself, immersed in the novel's plot. 

You hum at her comments, hugging the blanket tightly as you sit cross-legged next to her. "If my mother found out I was reading something that isn't as educational, she would scold me." You joke while facing the dark-haired girl. 

"What she won't know, won't hurt," Kara giggles, "now, page three-seventy..." 

As a child, you had always been trapped within the suffocating walls of your cadaverous home. The idea of allowing you to venture the world outside of the castle was something that your mother deeply resented; the woman was well aware of the amount of hate and horrors that the people were capable of — toward the royal family, at that. Many still do not like the idea of the monarch even after your father's reign. 

Some of you had hoped that that would not happen once you took over. There will always be individuals who won't support you, it simply cannot be helped. With your father, he was merciless when it came to those people, often resorting to punishment, devastating compensation, or violence. As you think about your future circumstances with your future spouse, your future King, you will soon come to terms with the fact that— 

"'I am not my father's daughter.'" Kara had read aloud as you both sat in silence. The book in her hands looked ancient beneath the starless blanket that cascaded the sleeping sky. She continued to read the book like she had done to you since you were younger, reading it so slowly and so precisely. It was a skill that Kara had developed as she grew up by your side, to be able to read to you. This was something none of your other ladies-in-waiting could do. "'...assertive was she, as the lady spoke those words. Not a moment of weakness was present on her countenance, then—'" 

You interrupt Kara with a tilt of your head, "Is this the part when the knight kisses her?" You question, leaning forward eagerly as a small smile makes its way to your lips. Kara nods and you whisper to yourself, "I love this part."

There were moments in your life when you yearned for a love that you never specifically received from your parents. This kind of love felt so sacred, so ethereal; a love that only you could find within the constructions of novels and deep plots. This love, which you saw in both Kara and her fiancé. You wished for this feeling and you hoped that your future partner would exhibit such toward you in ways only your own fantasies could comprehend. 

When Kara finally completes the final chapter — concluding the end of this book — she lays her head next to yours as passive irises wander along the sky's endlessness. It had been a quiet few seconds as the breeze swept by, and Kara's hands found themselves playing restlessly with the strings of her dress. She was deep in thought, you could tell. 

"Don't you feel lonely sometimes, princess?" Kara had finally spoken up. You blink in her direction, confusion overshadowed the stillness of your countenance. Followed by a hum, Kara rolls on her stomach and rests her chin against her palm while facing you. "You're always stuck within this castle. Only Kento and I accompany you and— to be honest— I cannot help but feel hollow for you."

With a raised brow, you respond with a muse, "Do I bore you, Kara?" 

"Of course not! No, no, you're absolutely not boring!" Kara immediately shakes her head and you laugh at her sudden outburst. "I was only saying— I—" she lets out a heavy sigh and she dramatically drops her shoulders— "I'm only looking out for you, you know?" 

"I know," you smile, "I was joking. But don't worry, I don't feel lonely. That is especially thanks to you and Kento." You shrug your shoulders, eyes following the line of constellations that sparked above the both of you. "However..." you felt the need to drag your words. 

It was not in your nature to think so deeply about certain things, but the idea of a man in your life who was not your father put you in a temporary state of distress. You could not help but feel intimidated by the idea of a man marrying into your family. As mere strangers for the matter! Your mother, on one hand, saw nothing wrong about this ordeal. It had always been the church and kingdom that she thought of above all. It was constant, her rules, as she has once said that ‘a lady cannot afford to pour her feelings above duty.’

You knew that your mother was not a heartless queen. She was kind, considerate, humble. However, it felt sacrilegious to even consider that this positive quality could not outweigh the encumbrance that, perhaps, she was a heartless mother.  

"...I can't blame my mother for the suddenness of this occasion, Kara." You say almost forcefully. But the bitter part of your conscious knew better than to point fingers— that was simply not how you were raised to deal with things. "If the worst-case scenario becomes reality, and if that ever involved my future husband, I'm certain that I have you and Sir Nanami to depend on." 

"Is that all?" Kara leans forward to meet your eyes. "You will simply let it go on? Princess, do you not have an opinion on all of this? You are unhappy—"

"You're mistaken, Kara," you interrupt her with an exasperated sigh, "I'm not unhappy because my mother expects me to marry so soon. I'm unhappy because—" you pause, thinking your next words carefully as if the Gods were specifically listening to your words to spill— "I'm unhappy... because... because I can't see my father for advice..." you finally confess. 

This has not been a thought that occurred to you until this very moment. It hurt deeply that you did not acknowledge that your father was dying. Your chest tightens and with an exhale you finally face Kara. She smiles softly at you. Though she finds it difficult to understand your position, she has always had an empathetic personality. Which was enough to make you feel safer than at home. 

"I'm sure you can still see him," Kara says albeit unsure, "once you've chosen a suitor, perhaps your mother will finally give you permission to see him?" She questions out loud, "It wouldn't make sense for her to keep your father from seeing his daughter one last time." 

When your eyes meet the sky you are greeted by a family of stars. At that very moment, you are reminded that your father soon will be looking down on you from above, brimming with the expectation that you will encompass his throne as he once has. "Thanks, Kara." You whisper to yourself, finally moving your head so that you can meet her vibrant hazel eyes. "I can always count on you, you know?" 

“You can always count on me,” was Kara’s response. 

That evening, you can only delve into your vast imaginations regarding the future of your kingdom. It was an event that seemed so close, yet so far away. Kara was right, you thought, about you being unhappy in general. There has not been a moment in life where you have felt accomplished without the approval of your mother. You could not embark in the romantic genre without your mother’s criticism or hour-long lectures. You could not do anything within the enclosure of your castle, without hearing of your mother’s opinions or motherly amendments. 

This did not mean you felt trapped, no. For she has shaped the woman that you are today. 

However, was it wrong for you to feel that a part of you was missing within your being because of the limits of your own home? 

You could only ponder because you knew nobody would be able to respond to this unanswered question. Expressing yourself to your mother was out of line, as she taught you that emotions were what made a ruler weak. Kara, while observant, is not the best at giving advice, but she is a fantastic listener. Her strength was in empathy, her weakness will always be her words. As emotionally intelligent as our best friend was, she always had trouble formulating her thoughts and with that, she struggled to verbalize them. She has always been one to encourage you to “follow your heart” which is something that you appreciated the most about her. That phrase was a component in your life which your mother always denied. Kara’s emotional advice has always been unmatched. But at this time, you did not need your emotions to help you, you needed the stoic guidance of an individual capable of formulating both a logical and emotional response to your duty-driven situation. 

There was only one person capable of doing that. 

The following morning you had awoken to a gentle shake belonging to your personal maid. She was an aging lady, serving your father when he was your age and continuing to serve as this kingdom approaches your rule. She greeted you with a kind, motherly smile, gesturing to her side as she never once had to verbalize your awakening. 

She was not a woman of many words, but through her you learned that actions meant just as much. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Carline,” you bring the back of your hand over your mouth as you simultaneously stretch your limbs and yawn, “is mother waiting for me?”

She shook her head, before gesturing to your night stand. There, a piece of paper written in familiar script belonging to none other than your mother. At her behest, she had given you an orderly agenda to complete before she returned from her ‘personal affairs,’ whatever that meant, and beneath her finely inked writing was a list of things for you to do. You wanted to let out a dreadful sigh at the words “there are 24 dresses that you will be able to choose from for tomorrow’s event. Choose wisely.” 

You knew you would dread this day before you had even started it. 

Mrs. Carline noticed the look of disdain on your face, speaking softly, “you know you do not have to fit all 24 of the dresses she bought for you.” 

If your mother was here, Mrs. Carline would have been punished with verbal assaults, but because it was only you, most attendants and peasants that served your home knew that the apple fell too far from the tree; as you were not your mother, rest assured, they were safe as long as you were around. 

“I will try 12 of what I like, it’s the least I can do,” you put down letter, “besides, it would kill time trying on those dresses and I would prefer to do that than attend my prayers at the church.” 

The rest of your morning was spent in routine. You had bathed and instead of dressing into your morning gowns, you were led into the dressing room where you were presented with all 24 dresses fitted on mannequins meant to replicate your body. Creepily, the measurements have always been accurate, despite only ever being measured by a seamstress three times in your entire life. Once at your 8th birthday, another time being your 15th birthday, and the most recent being the day before you turned 18. 

“Princess, you can decide which one to begin with,” Mrs. Carline gestured. 

To your right were three other maids dressed in the same uniform, standing with their hands folded in front of them, and their heads bowing down. One of them appeared quite young, the youngest being sixteen, you thought, while the oldest being Mrs. Carline’s age. The left side of the room was a spacious area with a foding screen where you would fit these dresses.

The silence was the most dreadful part of the experience. You were already aware that Mrs. Carline was a lady with little to say. But the other maidens, being just as quiet, gave you an overwhelming feeling of restlessness. The procedure went as followed: Mrs. Carline would assist you with going into the dress, and while she fixed your front with all kinds of ties, laces, and buttons, another maiden would appear behind you to tighten your corset, and the other two, you would assume, fix the previous dress onto the mannequin. The only words you ever heard were "Just one more..." or "Suck it in for me, will you?" Notice of an accent not of this land, a thick rhotic-like sound would come out as her words rolled off her tongue. 

For each dress you tried, the decision became increasingly complex. Some gowns seemed too flashy, adorned with intricate designs and shimmering gems that, while undoubtedly elegant, felt a tad excessive for the event's decorum. Others appeared too dull, lacking the necessary vibrance to complement your radiant complexion. The room was filled with an array of colors and fabrics, all carefully curated by your mother in her quest to find the perfect gown. It was a challenge, as the ladies in attendance were present not as critics but as dutiful companions, offering little more than polite nods and quiet sighs.

You couldn't help but long for Kara, your closest friend and confidante. Her sharp eye for fashion and candid feedback would have been invaluable in this moment of indecision. However, she was absent, absorbed in lessons with Sir Geto at the library, and you were left to navigate the daunting array of dresses on your own.

By the time you had reached your twelfth dress, your patience had dwindled, and you were on the verge of feeling overwhelmed by the choices before you. As you stood before the full-length mirror, a gasp escaped your lips. The moment was captivating, as the dress flowed around the silhouette of your body with an indescribable grace. The gown was a symphony of elegance, its intricate design and timeless appeal becoming apparent as you turned, its fabric rustling softly with your every movement.

You couldn't put into words the emotions it evoked in you. The mirror reflected a vision of beauty and sophistication, a perfect harmony with your individual charm. The air seemed to crackle with a sense of wonder, and the hushed whispers of the attending maidens, distinct in their awe, only reaffirmed the allure of the dress.

You knew, without a doubt, that this was the gown for tomorrow's ball. Its subtle opulence, complemented by the intricate details and the way it graced your form, made it clear that it would make a memorable impression at the grand event. 

"Mrs. Carline," you said, turning to face the older lady, your gloved hands resting delicately on the gown's fluffy skirt. "I don't think I need to try on any more dresses." The certainty in your voice reflected the newfound confidence that this dress had bestowed upon you.

Mrs. Carline noticed your contented expression and smiled warmly. She gestured to the maidens, dismissing their presence from the room, leaving you alone with the older lady. Before she could propose to help you out of the dress, you spoke up, "No need, Mrs. Carline,” you bring your hand up in a gentle defiance, giving her a look of wistfulness as you continue your sentence, “I… I would like to be left alone for a moment, please.”

She did not argue with you. 

As the maidens left, and you stood in solitude with the dress, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over you. You were suddenly reminded of the immense duties bestowed upon you for tomorrow: representing your family with grace, fear of disappointing your mother, and most of all, the fear of choosing the wrong suitor amidst the crowd of eligible noble men, princes, kings.

Despite the temporary joy that this dress offered you, you couldn't escape the looming weight of responsibility. Tomorrow's ball was not just a grand social event; it was a pivotal moment in your life that would determine your future. The gown hung before you, a vision of ethereal beauty, but it served as a stark contrast to the uncertainty and apprehension that lay ahead. You couldn't help but wonder if its enchantment could carry you through the challenges of the night.

As you stood there, contemplating the intricate lacework and delicate embroidery, you let out a deep sigh. The room felt hushed, as if even the walls were holding their breath in anticipation of the coming evening. The doors to the chambers gently opened, and in walked Sir Nanami, a figure of poise and grace. He had been a constant presence in your life, a confidant, and perhaps more, but tonight, there was an air of hesitation in his step.

His eyes met yours, and he hesitated to greet you for a moment. The unspoken words hung in the air like a fragile promise, foreshadowing the uncertain future that loomed before you. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice warm and filled with admiration, "You look stunning in that dress."

You managed a smile, appreciating the compliment, but you couldn't conceal the concerns that weighed heavily on your mind. Sir Nanami noticed the worry in your eyes and asked, "What's troubling you? You seem preoccupied, my lady."

You met his gaze, finding comfort in his familiar presence. "It's not the dress that's troubling me, if that’s what you’re thinking," you confessed, "it's… tomorrow... It's all so overwhelming. If I told mother that I don’t feel confident about this, I feel like that would be the greatest disappointment to her."

Nanami's expression softened as he listened intently. You continued, your voice a mixture of determination and vulnerability, "It's not the question of whether I am ready or not. I am ready. I know I am ready. After all, I was born for this.” You study his expression, only now did you realize the dark circles that sit under his eyes and the way his jaw clenched tightly as he listened to your words. “I'm just... afraid of failing. My father wants this but refuses to see me, my mother would only speak to me if it is about this occasion and now, with the weight of an entire kingdom's expectations on my shoulders, the fear of making a misstep is almost unbearable."

Nanami's eyes reflected a depth of understanding, and he reached out to gently place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You are not alone in this, my lady," he said, his voice unwavering. "I have every confidence in your strength and grace. You are destined for greatness, and besides, who cares what your parents think?" You look at him in confusion, a foreign feeling crept up your chest as he continued his words. He was not one to look down on the superior figures in your life like that, but knowing he had the strength to do that gave you a sense of comfort. “I am not saying this as a Knight of Arcadia, but as your friend, [Y/N]. You’re afraid of not being able to make decisions like your mother does, but what if that was for the best? They may only see you as an object that may solve this kingdom’s endless issues, through marriage of another rich king or prince, but what I see is a woman destined to be one of the greatest rulers Arcadia will ever have. You are more than what is expected from you.”

His words offered you some solace, but the weight of responsibility still lingered. As you stood there in that exquisite gown, with the future of your kingdom resting on your shoulders, you couldn't help but wonder if you possessed the resilience and wisdom to face the challenges that lay ahead.

You are more than what is expected from you.

Suddenly, the confidence you did not have before, reappeared before you and the knight. 

You could never be more thankful for his presence. 

“Alas, spoken like a true knight.” You chuckle and rest a hand over the one that sits on your shoulder. Your lips simmer upwards momentarily. “You only say what my mother never will. Thank you, Nanami.” 

“I can only say what I truly believe, princess.”

This time, he offered you a lasting smile.

The early morning sunlight streamed through the ornate windows of Satoru's chamber, casting a warm, golden glow upon the room. The day of the grand ball in the Kingdom of Arcadia had finally arrived. With just six hours left to prepare, the anticipation was mounting, but for Satoru, it was not a feeling of excitement that coursed through him; it was pure, unadulterated nervousness.

His room had become a whirlwind of activity. The room had a certain serenity, but it was juxtaposed with Satoru's restless energy. He paced back and forth, his steps purposeful and precise, a reflection of his perfectionism. The air was filled with the rustling of fabrics as he meticulously reviewed the various outfits he had laid out for the evening. The gowns and uniforms, each tailored with the utmost attention to detail, represented the choices he had before him, like pieces of a puzzle he couldn't quite fit together.

It was in this room, filled with history and familial significance, that Satoru's mother approached him. Her presence, a vision of grace and wisdom, was a stark contrast to the whirlwind of his preparations. She recognized the deep-seated anxiety in her son's eyes and knew that this visit to the Kingdom of Arcadia held more significance than a mere diplomatic mission. It was an alliance fraught with skepticism, and she understood the weight of the expectations placed on his shoulders.

He couldn't help but feel that something was missing, something crucial to make this evening extraordinary.

Satoru's mother, observing her son's frenetic preparations, sat in a corner of the room. She watched as he meticulously went through various outfits, discarding them one after the other, despite Nobara having already come prepared with his personally tailored uniform. The presence of the royal seamstress, normally a calming influence, did nothing to assuage Satoru's unease.

Satoru's mother, a woman of grace and wisdom, understood her son's apprehension. She approached him, her gentle eyes filled with maternal concern. "Satoru, my dear," she said, "I can see that you're anxious. Remember, this visit to the Kingdom of Arcadia is not just a diplomatic mission. You are there to meet the cursed princess, and I know it's a tremendous responsibility."

Satoru nodded, his brow furrowed with worry. "I know, Mother. But it's not just that. I want to make a lasting impression, to show them who I am."

His mother, still doubtful about her son's decision to visit the Kingdom of Arcadia for the cursed princess, offered her best sentiments to comfort him. She knew that Satoru's heart was set on this alliance, despite the many skeptics in the court.

"I have something that might help," she said, her voice soft and filled with reassurance. Guiding her son to her own chambers, she allowed him a glimpse of her inner sanctum, a place of comfort and solace. There, an old, ornate 32-inch box took center stage. Its rich, dark wood gleamed in the soft morning light that filtered through the chamber's windows.

With great reverence, she opened the box, revealing a beautifully crafted sword. Its blade glistened with a mesmerizing play of light, and the intricate hilt was adorned with symbols and designs of a bygone era. The sword's presence was commanding, and its historical significance was undeniable. As Satoru reached out to touch the blade, his fingers traced the etched designs, each marking a chapter in his family's history. It was as if he held a piece of the past, a link to the generations that had come before him. The weight of the sword in his hand was a tangible connection to his lineage, and it filled him with a sense of awe. 

“This… this belonged to father…” it was not question. He was certain it did.

Satoru's mother, her voice soft and filled with emotion, spoke of the sword's legacy. "Indeed it did, Satoru," she said. "It has been passed down through generations of our family, from one ruler to the next. It is said to be a blade fit to be held by only the greatest king to rule Yukinia."

The room seemed to hold its breath as the significance of the moment settled in. Satoru felt a profound sense of honor and responsibility. "I'm truly honored, Mother," he whispered, his eyes never leaving the sword. "But I could never carry such a sword. I am not yet a king."

His mother's eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and warmth. "Oh, my dear, this is no ordinary sword. Legends say it carries a touch of magic. Perhaps it will grant you the strength and wisdom needed to become the ruler you aspire to be."

Satoru wasn't sure if his mother's words were a jest or if there was an element of truth to them. But in that moment, as he held the sword, he felt a deep sense of calm wash over him. The nervousness that had been gnawing at him earlier seemed to dissipate, replaced by a newfound determination.

With the sword in his possession, he looked at his mother, gratitude filling his heart. "Thank you, Mother."

His mother's smile was radiant, and she embraced her son with a motherly embrace, filled with love and pride. "I have no doubt that you will, Satoru. Now, we will go to the Kingdom of Arcadia with your head held high, and I pray that the magic of this sword guide you in all your endeavors."

With the sword securely fastened at his side, Satoru left his mother's chambers, each step he took echoing softly in the hallowed halls of the palace. The room, rich in history and adorned with familial treasures, held the echoes of countless memories that spanned generations. Its walls had borne witness to joyous celebrations and solemn decrees, while its treasures had been passed down through the annals of time.

The hilt of the sword pressed gently against his side as he moved, its weight a reminder of the destiny he carried on his shoulders. It was more than a mere weapon; it was a symbol of his heritage and the responsibilities that came with it. The blade, etched with intricate designs and steeped in history, gleamed with a profound sense of purpose. With each stride he took, it became a source of inspiration, a constant reminder of the strength and courage he possessed, and the journey that lay ahead.

As Satoru ventured from his mother's chambers, he soon found himself reunited with Nobara. Her attire was a masterpiece of the royal seamstress's craft, and her poise exuded confidence.

And then, an unexpected sight greeted him. Maki, stood beside Nobara, her typically no-nonsense demeanor replaced by something unexpected. Maki wore a dress, a rare sight that nearly prompted a chuckle from Satoru. The dark-haired girl, known for her pragmatic sensibilities, seemed out of her element in such attire, and the irony of the situation was not lost on Satoru.

However, Nobara wasted no time in scolding him, her voice carrying a mix of annoyance and affection. "Satoru, you've made a stupid mess of your preparations," she chided, her tone teasingly stern.

Maki, despite her unusual choice of attire, voiced her concerns, her eyes filled with a hint of worry. "I don't think you're thinking clearly about all this, Satoru. It's a significant decision, and the implications are far-reaching."

Nobara, ever the playful and fiercely loyal friend, couldn't resist intervening. She gave Maki a playful shove, earning a raised eyebrow from the dark-haired girl. "Maki, he's perfectly capable of making his own decisions. We're here to support him, no matter what."

Satoru, in the midst of the girls’ banter, couldn't help but smile. In the midst of his anxiety and the grandeur of the upcoming ball, the presence of his students was a grounding force. Their lighthearted interactions, their unwavering support, and their teasing camaraderie reminded him that he was not alone on this journey. 

"I told you before, Maki, just trust me on this one," Satoru said, his voice resonating with a quiet yet firm determination. He looked at Maki, his eyes conveying a sense of purpose. "I have a good feeling about this."

Maki couldn't help but bite back a wry comment. She had heard those words from Satoru before, often right before he embarked on an audacious plan or a daring endeavor. 'It always starts with a good feeling,' she thought, but her years of experience had taught her to temper her skepticism. She knew better than to let her emotions get the best of her, especially when it came to her headstrong friend.

Satoru, who typically exuded an unbearable amount of confidence, appeared different today. His usual swagger was replaced with a restless energy, as he paced back and forth. Nobara, keenly observant of Satoru's behavior, recognized that something more profound was at play. It was not merely a "good feeling" or a decision made on a whim; there was a hidden layer to Satoru's motivations that he wasn't ready to reveal.

Nobara's intuition told her that Satoru was wrestling with more than just the desire to become a king. She knew him well enough to sense when something was amiss, and she couldn't shake the feeling that beneath his external composure, he carried a weighty secret or a deeper purpose.

However, she also knew that jumping to conclusions was unwise, especially without concrete evidence. Nobara opted to dismiss her initial thoughts, giving Satoru the benefit of the doubt. After all, she trusted him implicitly and was prepared to support his endeavors, even if they were shrouded in mystery.

"What's your plan, then?" Nobara inquired, her voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and a touch of impatience. She chose to focus on the practical aspects of the situation, ignoring Maki's more somber disposition.

Satoru hesitated, his brows furrowing as he grappled with the complexity of the task at hand. He had believed that his endeavors were relatively straightforward: attend the ball, meet the cursed princess, and let fate guide him. Yet, with Nobara's pointed question, he couldn't help but question whether he was overlooking some hidden intricacy of the royal court.

Nobara, always one to tease and provoke thought, couldn't resist a hearty chuckle at his apparent confusion. "Satoru, you make it sound so simple. But remember, there will be countless other princes, kings, and suitors vying for the princess's hand. You can't just walk in with a 'good feeling' and expect everything to fall into place."

Satoru found himself caught between his unwavering self-assuredness and the stark reality of the challenges that lay ahead. The wisdom and teasing camaraderie of his friends offered a necessary grounding force, reminding him that he was not alone on this uncertain journey. As he faced the intricate dance of politics and diplomacy that awaited him, he was determined to navigate it with his characteristic confidence, even if it meant confronting hidden layers of complexity that his "good feeling" couldn't entirely prepare him for.

As evening descended over the royal palace, the time had come for Satoru to embark on his journey to Arcadia. The carriage, arranged by his mother with meticulous care, was a symbol of the kingdom's commitment to the alliance he sought. It awaited him in the palace courtyard, glistening in the soft, fading light of the day. The scene that greeted Satoru as he stepped into the waiting carriage was nothing short of enchanting. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in shades of lavender and coral. The palace gardens, now illuminated by delicate lanterns, were a tapestry of vibrant colors and intoxicating scents. Nightingales sang from the branches, serenading the departing prince with their melodic songs.

Satoru, dressed in regal attire and with his family's sword secured at his side, exuded an unwavering confidence that this plan might indeed work. His resolve was unshaken, and he saw the journey ahead as a step towards his destiny. The promise of forging a vital alliance with the Kingdom of Arcadia, and perhaps even winning the heart of the cursed princess, was a vision that fueled his determination.

Beside him, Maki's demeanor contrasted sharply with Satoru's unwavering confidence. As the carriage began its journey, her expression was one of quiet contemplation. She couldn't help but feel a gnawing sense of doubt, an unwavering feeling that perhaps this was not the right way to go. The uncertainty of the path they were on weighed heavily on her.

The landscape beyond the carriage window began to change as they left the palace grounds. Rolling hills and lush forests passed by, painted in shades of deep green under the silvery light of the moon. The road stretched out before them, an unknown path that held both promise and peril.

Satoru, however, was undeterred by the unknown. He leaned back in his seat, a half-smile playing on his lips as he gazed at the passing scenery. The evening air was filled with the fragrances of the countryside, and the soft hum of the carriage wheels on the road provided a soothing backdrop to his thoughts.

Maki, on the other hand, could not shake the feeling of foreboding that lingered in her heart. She glanced out the window, her eyes fixed on the ever-changing landscape. Her thoughts were a storm of conflicting emotions, and she couldn't help but wonder if their journey would lead them to the outcome Satoru so fervently desired or if it would unravel into a tale of unforeseen consequences.

As the carriage continued its two-hour journey to Arcadia, the weight of their decisions and the destiny that awaited them loomed overhead, leaving Satoru with his unyielding confidence and Maki with her lingering doubts. 

Nobara, ever the spirited and outgoing friend, decided to make an effort to lighten the atmosphere within the carriage. Satoru's unwavering confidence and Maki's palpable doubts created a sense of tension, and Nobara was determined to break through it. She shifted her attention to Satoru's mother, who sat beside her, and offered a warm smile.

"Your Highness," Nobara began, her voice filled with enthusiasm, "I must say, I'm truly excited about the ball. The prospect of meeting the people of Arcadia and experiencing their culture is quite thrilling. I've heard the kingdom is known for its grandeur and its rich traditions. It's an honor to be part of such an important event."

Satoru's mother, who had been quietly observing the interaction among her son and his friends, welcomed the opportunity to engage in a lighter conversation. She returned Nobara's smile and replied, "Indeed, the ball promises to be a remarkable occasion. The Kingdom of Arcadia is known for its captivating customs and the enchanting atmosphere they create during their events. I hope you all enjoy the experience and make cherished memories."

Nobara continued the conversation, asking about the customs and traditions of the upcoming ball, hoping to draw out anecdotes and stories from Satoru's mother. As they delved into discussions of what to expect and the cultural exchange that awaited them, the atmosphere within the carriage began to shift. The tension eased, and a sense of anticipation replaced it. Nobara's efforts to lighten the mood and engage in a more positive conversation were met with gratitude by all, including Satoru, whose earlier doubts seemed to be momentarily overshadowed by the prospect of the ball and the journey ahead.

As the carriage continued on its journey, the light and lively conversation between Nobara and Satoru's mother had managed to ease the tension that had hung in the air. The anticipation of the upcoming ball and the cultural exchange ahead began to replace the earlier doubts and worries.

However, just when it seemed that the atmosphere inside the carriage was finally lightening, a sudden jolt and a loud ruckus outside disrupted the tranquility. The carriage hit a rough bump in the road, causing it to sway and the passengers to jostle inside.

Satoru, his curiosity piqued, quickly decided to investigate the commotion. He leaned forward, reaching for the carriage door, and pulled it open. The evening air rushed in, carrying with it the sounds of confusion and clamor from outside.

The sight that met his eyes was unexpected. A group of villagers had gathered around the carriage, looking concerned and agitated. It appeared that a section of the road had been damaged by the recent rains, causing the bump that had jolted the carriage.

He stepped out of the carriage, his demeanor a mix of curiosity and a desire to ensure that everything was resolved smoothly. Satoru's strong presence and innate charisma immediately drew the attention of the villagers, and he began to engage in a conversation with them, assuring them that the necessary repairs would be made and that any inconvenience would be addressed.

Inside the carriage, Nobara, Maki, and Satoru's mother watched as the determined prince worked to resolve the situation, his confidence and leadership skills shining through even in unexpected circumstances. While the journey to Arcadia had experienced a minor hiccup, it was clear that Satoru was prepared to face any challenges that came their way as he continued on his quest to secure the alliance and fulfill his destiny. As the journey continued and the conversation within the carriage flowed, the group believed that the minor road bump had been the only hiccup on their path. Satoru, Nobara, Maki, and his mother had resumed their discussion, their voices mingling in animated chatter. The atmosphere had once again grown relaxed and jovial, with the anticipation of the upcoming ball filling the carriage.

However, the tranquility was short-lived. Satoru, as he glanced around the carriage, suddenly noticed a presence that hadn't been there before. His eyes widened in surprise when he spotted a pink-haired boy sitting next to Maki, who had her dagger cautiously pressed against the intruder's throat.

Satoru's voice was steady but laced with a hint of astonishment as he asked, "Maki, who is our unexpected guest?"

Maki, her eyes sharp and her stance defensive, replied, "I'm not sure, but he somehow managed to sneak into the carriage. I couldn't take any chances."

The pink-haired boy, who appeared no older than his late teens, was a picture of nonchalance despite the dagger at his throat. He met Satoru's gaze with an amused, almost mischievous smile and said, "Hey, you guys have a real tight security system here. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about with the journey to Arcadia."

Satoru, his curiosity piqued, leaned in a little closer to the boy and asked, "And who might you be?"

The boy, Yuji Itadori, continued to smile, seemingly untroubled by the dagger pressed against his throat. "Name's Yuji Itadori," he introduced himself, "I promise I'm not here to cause any trouble." He attempted to raise his hands in a gesture of defense, though Maki's tight grip still held him.

Maki, cautious but willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, slowly lowered her dagger. Meanwhile, Nobara couldn't help but be intrigued by the boy's audacity and flashed him a cheeky grin.

Nobara, with her usual curiosity, inquired, "So, Yuji, what brought you to sneak into our carriage, anyway?"

Yuji's expression grew more serious as he explained his reason. "I'm looking for my friend, Megumi. He was a knight in Arcadia, and when I heard this carriage was going straight there I had to sneak in... We got separated, and I've been searching for him ever since."

Upon hearing the name ‘Megumi,’ Satoru's eyes sparkled with recognition. It was a name from the past, a name he had not heard in years. Megumi was a young boy he had trained many years ago, a talented and promising knight-in-training. However, circumstances had led to their paths diverging, and he had lost contact with the boy. Satoru's mind began to race with memories and questions, but he had not yet voiced his thoughts.

Satoru's mother, keenly observant of her son's expression and the direction of the conversation, recognized the glimmer of recognition in his eyes. She knew that this revelation was tugging at his heart, stirring up memories from his past. However, she quickly interjected with a gentle but firm tone, "Satoru, we must remember our purpose for this journey. We are here to seek an alliance with the Princess of Arcadia, nothing more."

The reminder served to refocus the group on the mission they had embarked upon, even as they grappled with the unexpected reunion and the mysteries of their pasts. The journey to Arcadia had become more complex and emotionally charged, with a sense of shared history and unspoken questions hanging in the air.

The Castle of Arcadia stood as a true masterpiece of architecture and design. Its grandeur was beyond compare, with towering spires that seemed to reach for the heavens. The stonework of the castle was ornate and meticulously crafted, adorned with intricate carvings and motifs that spoke of the kingdom's rich history and traditions. As they approached the castle gates, the sheer scale of the edifice was staggering. The courtyard, illuminated by a sea of lanterns, was transformed into a magical realm. Each lantern cast a warm, golden light that created an ethereal, dreamlike atmosphere. The moon, riding high in the night sky, added to the enchantment, casting its silvery glow upon the scene.

The courtyard was a visual feast for the senses. The nobility and courtiers present were a vivid tapestry of colors and cultures. Kings and rulers from distant realms donned their regal robes, the emblems of their kingdoms displayed proudly. Princes, adorned in luxurious garments, moved through the crowd with a sense of ambition and regal pride, each vying for the favor of the Arcadian princess.

Nobara couldn't contain her excitement as she reveled in the grandeur of the event. Her eyes sparkled as she took in the diverse and resplendent attire of the attendees. The variety of gowns, each more opulent than the last, was a sight to behold. Jewels sparkled like stars in the night sky, and the entire courtyard was alive with a kaleidoscope of colors.

Maki, in her customary composed manner, took in the grandeur with a more reserved perspective. Her discerning gaze swept across the scene, her thoughts focused on staying close to the Queen as she still served as her ‘unofficial security guard.’ 

Yuji, a stranger in this new realm, couldn't help but feel a glimmer of excitement. The grandeur and diversity of the gathering held the promise of new possibilities, the hope of reuniting with his friend Megumi.

Amidst the awe-inspiring surroundings, Satoru's earlier nervousness began to resurface. The sheer magnitude of the event and the expectations heaped upon him were daunting. His mother  provided a reassuring presence, linking her arm with his. With her support, Satoru faced the complexities of the royal court with renewed determination and resolve. The castle was a place of dreams and aspirations, but it was also a place of challenges and decisions that would shape the destiny of the kingdom. As they stepped through the grand entrance of the Castle of Arcadia, they found themselves in a vast and magnificent grand hall. The sheer size of the hall was awe-inspiring, its dimensions seeming to stretch to infinity. The high vaulted ceiling soared above, adorned with intricate frescoes that depicted the kingdom's storied history and the legends of the Arcadian royal line.

The grand hall had been transformed into a breathtaking stage for the event. The walls were adorned with opulent tapestries that depicted scenes of grandeur and romance. Massive chandeliers, resplendent with a multitude of crystals, hung from the ceiling, casting a brilliant and warm glow upon the scene below. The shimmering light illuminated the hall's polished marble floors, making them appear as if they were made of precious gems.

The hall had been arranged to accommodate the diverse and regal attendees. Long banquet tables, draped in luxurious fabrics, stretched across the length of the room, each laden with a sumptuous feast of dishes that showcased the culinary excellence of the kingdom. Guests mingled, sampling delicacies from various lands, and the air was filled with the rich scents of exotic spices and flavors.

The grand hall of the Castle of Arcadia was not only a place of regal splendor but also a stage for the art of dance. Alongside the towering grand staircase and the awaiting princess's platform, a spacious area was left open, designed for the elegant and graceful art of dancing. The hall was adorned with opulent crystal chandeliers, which cast their radiant light upon the polished marble floor below. This expanse was left clear, allowing guests to waltz, twirl, and move with grace and poise. The atmosphere was filled with the enchanting strains of a live orchestra, their instruments playing in harmony, creating a symphony of melodies that echoed through the hall.

Couples, nobles and royals alike, took to the floor, dressed in resplendent attire, and moved with the effortless grace of the waltz. The gowns of the queens and princesses swirled around them, the jewels in their hair and on their dresses sparkling like constellations in the night sky.

At the far end of the hall, a grand dais had been erected, where a magnificent throne awaited. This was the focal point of the event, the place where the Arcadian princess would make her choice. The throne was adorned with regal decorations and was surrounded by a profusion of blossoms, creating a breathtaking backdrop for the impending decision. To the left of the throne there stood a massive, grand staircase that led to an elevated platform. This was the focal point of the event, and it was where one could only assume the princess would make her entrance. The staircase was adorned with rich, deep-red carpeting, and ornate balustrades that were intricately carved with symbols of the kingdom.

The platform at the top of the staircase was surrounded by lush, cascading floral arrangements, their vibrant colors adding to the splendor of the scene. A large, ornate throne awaited the princess at the center of the platform, draped in sumptuous fabrics and decorated with glistening gemstones.

The grand hall was filled with a sense of anticipation and excitement. Attendees conversed, their voices mingling with the music of musicians who played exquisite melodies on harps and flutes. The atmosphere was charged with a heady mix of ambition and regal pride, and the hall felt like a stage for dreams and aspirations.

The hall buzzed with an air of anticipation. The guests, nobles, and royalty from distant lands, all turned their attention toward the elevated platform, where Suguru Geto, the head of the Arcadian court, stood with an air of authority and dignity. His presence commanded respect, and his role as the herald of the evening's climax was evident to all.

Suguru Geto was an old friend of Satoru and upon meeting his gaze, they both exchanged a nod of respect. 

The orchestra's melodies gradually faded into a hushed silence as Suguru Geto cleared his throat. His voice, rich and resonant, filled the hall as he announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests from realms near and far, the moment we have all been waiting for has arrived.”

The grand hall of the Castle of Arcadia was a breathtaking sight to behold. The expanse seemed to stretch into infinity, its high, vaulted ceiling creating a sense of vastness that was only accentuated by the grandeur of the event. Massive crystal chandeliers hung from above, casting a gentle, golden light that illuminated the polished marble floor below.

“It is my honour to announce the arrival of Princess [Y/N] of Arcadia.”

As you descended the grand staircase, every detail of your gown came to life in the soft, ambient light. The off-shoulder, sweetheart neckline accentuated the graceful curve of your neck and shoulders, adding an air of timeless elegance to your presence. The overskirt, embroidered with white roses, embedded as a symbol of purity and grace, standing out among the other dresses with their gem-adorned opulence. It was a choice that spoke to your individuality and the uniqueness of your role as the Arcadian princess. The corset, with its intricate designs, seemed to whisper tales of the kingdom's history and craftsmanship. Each stitch and pattern held its own secret, adding to the mystique of your attire. The gown, with its understated yet regal charm, exemplified the strength and beauty that many assumed defined you.

As you descended, your gown flowed with each step, creating a mesmerizing dance of fabric and grace. The elegance and poise with which you carried yourself marked this moment as one of significance and beauty. The combination of your gown, your presence, and your role as the princess of Arcadia created a scene of breathtaking grandeur.

Sir Nanami, clad in his military uniform adorned with golden pads and badges, walked a few steps ahead of you, his posture exuding strength and dignity. Your hand was on top of his as he supported each step.

The guests in the hall were spellbound, their eyes fixed on you as you descended. The destiny of the evening and the fate of two kingdoms were intricately woven into this breathtaking moment, a culmination of elegance, tradition, and the weight of your choice as the Arcadian princess.

Much faster than Satoru was able to follow, the abyss of your pupils caged him in a gaze drowning in tenebrosity. Even so poorly enlightened by the prismatic phosphorescence of the room, your stare felt as if it was bottomless, presenting him to a persona he could not quite comprehend, "Mother… is that the Princess?" Satoru had whispered, slightly stunned by your auric gaze. When he spoke, he was forcing himself to find an escape from the magnetizing pulls of your aura. His mother nods in response, finding herself occupied with her two ladies— Maki and Nobara— who fix her hair as she removes her magnificent hat. 

Satoru's earlier uncertainty and nervousness melted away in that shared glance. He knew, without a doubt, that this pivotal moment was meant to be, and the weight of the decision he was about to make felt somehow lighter in the radiance of your presence.

Satoru final words catches the attention of all three women and Yuji equally. 

“She’s beautiful.”

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❬ 004 ❭ through my fault ⸝⸝ stories to be told

synopsis. desperate to find you a suitor to expand the kingdom, your mother finds ways to ensure that you rule in her image; even if that means breaking your relationship with your future husband.

genre. arranged marriage, royalty au, slow burn, +18

warnings. naoya zen'in

wc. 6.4K — a 30 minute read

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In the land of Colchis, where might and ambition reigned supreme, a new chapter in the kingdom's history was unfolding. The Zen’ins possessed a maritime realm known for its vast conquests and formidable armies, and they had set its sights on a coveted prize: the mystical and enigmatic Enchanted Forest, nestled between the boundaries of Colchis and Arcadia. The allure of this mystical forest, with its secrets and untold power, had stirred the hearts of Colchis’ rulers.

The pursuit of this treasured domain commenced with a grand vision — a vision that involved forging an alliance with the kingdom of Arcadia. By uniting these two mighty kingdoms, they would harness their collective strength and make a forceful claim on The Enchanted Forest. It was a bold and audacious plan, driven by a relentless determination to seize the forest and unlock its hidden potential.

At the center of this unfolding saga was Naoya Zen’in, a man whose ambition knew no bounds. His fervour for the beautiful princess of Arcadia burned brighter than any fire, so much so that he was willing to go to any lengths, even if it meant employing force, to win her hand. With alliances forming and ambitions soaring, the stage was set for a tale of power, desire, and the quest for the extraordinary.

As you present yourself in the grand hall, a wave of people surrounds you. The air is alive with the hum of conversations and the clinking of crystal glasses. It's an overwhelming sight, with guests elegantly dressed and mingling in small clusters. Your heart races with a mix of anticipation and trepidation, but at that moment, Nanami steps up beside you, his presence a reassuring anchor in the midst of the crowd. He leans in, his voice calm and steady, "Don’t worry, I’m here." The warmth in his eyes and the confidence in his tone ease your nerves.

Amidst the sea of faces, you catch sight of Kara. She practically glows with excitement as she notices you. With genuine enthusiasm, she rushes over and envelops you in a warm hug. "Oh, you look absolutely stunning!" she exclaims, her eyes taking in every detail of your dress. "That gown is a work of art. Did your mother choose it?" Her delight is infectious, and you can't help but smile in return.

“Actually… I chose this myself,” you can only feel a short surge of confidence fill your body as you said that. Your lips are twitching upwards as you look at her, and clearly, nervousness has embraced your visage and Kara couldn’t help but notice it.

Kara's caring nature shines through as she leans in, her voice filled with concern. "How are you feeling? Nervous about the evening?" She checks in on you, making sure you're comfortable and at ease, and her thoughtfulness washes away any lingering worries, leaving you feeling supported and cherished on this significant occasion. “Would you like me to grab you something to drink?” She offers. 

You shake your head, “a drink is not what I need,” and you were certain that a glass of champagne or wine won't quell the growing unease inside you. Your gloved hand, adorned with delicate lace, trembles ever so slightly as you nervously survey the opulent ballroom. The ornate chandeliers cast a soft, golden glow over the sea of unfamiliar royalty, their gowns and suits shimmering like jewels in the ambient light.

You had spent weeks preparing for this moment, convincing yourself that you were ready to step into the intricate world of courtly affairs. The etiquette lessons, the practice in the mirror, the countless hours spent choosing the perfect gown – all of it had been in service of this night. But now, as the grandeur and complexity of the event unfolds before you, you realize that your earlier confidence was mere bravado.

In this lavish setting, you've come to terms with the fact that you have absolutely no idea where to start. The unspoken rules, the subtle nuances of conversation, and the intricate dance of politics and power seem like an insurmountable challenge. You find yourself longing for the one person who could offer the guidance and wisdom you so desperately need: your mother. Her experience and insight were formidable, even against your initial resistance.

You can't help but yearn for her presence and her unflinching advice in this daunting moment, knowing that her guidance would be the key to unlocking the secrets of this unfamiliar world of royalty.

“My mother… the Queen… have you seen her, Sir Nanami?” You face the knight. From the way you spoke in formalities, almost instantaneously he knew of how urgently you needed to see her.

The blond man surveys the area before he responds, neither confirming nor denying your question, “I will find her for you if that is what you wish, princess. Are you sure you are well? Perhaps Lady Kara is right for a drink—”

“No!” You feel yourself speak without thought, startling both yourself and your closest friends. “I’m sorry… no, no. A drink will not help me, in fact, it might make me feel worst…”

The whirlwind of emotions inside you intensifies as you stand on the brink of this make-believe madness, almost as if you're suspended in a surreal dream. The opulence of the ballroom, the intricate dresses, and the ornate decorations blur together in a disorienting spectacle.

Just as you feel like you might lose yourself in this spectacle, your gaze lands on your mother. She approaches with an aura of regal authority, a striking figure in her black dress with subtle red undertones in her underskirt. Her commanding presence is unmistakable as she gracefully navigates the sea of guests. 

You had expected her to offer words of reassurance, to compliment your exquisite dress, or perhaps to acknowledge the impeccable work of Mrs. Carline on your makeup and hair.

Instead, her expression is stern, and her words take a completely unexpected turn. 

“What in God’s name are you doing, [Y/N]?” Her tone itched with a combination of formality and discipline, having the intent to scold you. “You are supposed to be speaking to these esteemed guests. Finding a suitor. Not standing around with these two fools.” She regarded your friends this way despite their presence in front of her. This did not affect her speech as she continues. “You are supposed to be making a spectacle, not hiding away.” 

The lecture catches you completely off guard, and you feel a mixture of surprise, confusion, and unease. Glancing at Kara and Nanami for support, you find them equally bewildered, their expressions mirroring your own uncertainty. With an apologetic stammer, you excuse yourself from your mother's presence, announcing your intention to "socialize."

As you navigate through the crowd, your thoughts whirl in a chaotic dance. You can't help but wonder about the true motivation behind your mother's stern words. The unexpected advice and her insistent tone leave a lingering sense of disquiet and a multitude of questions in your mind, turning what was supposed to be a fairy-tale evening into a bewildering and enigmatic experience.

Making a spectacle… you thought almost bitterly, my whole life is a spectacle…

Pulling you away from your thoughts, a magnetic force seems to emanate from the man in the distance, pulling you into his orbit. Your thoughts had come into a halt as you admire his broad figure from afar, with his silvern hair and undeniably handsome expression on his face. In a room dominated by older, more formidable figures, his youthful charm and inviting presence make him a much more approachable prospect. His aura radiates comfort and ease, offering a reassuring contrast to the uncertainty that lingers in the air.

Observing how he gracefully accompanies his mother through the elegant crowd adds to your confidence in your choice. The way he navigates the social intricacies and the genuine affection he exhibits with his mother give you the sense that he would be an empathetic and understanding conversational partner. 

In that electrifying moment, as your gaze meets Satoru's across the crowded ballroom, everything else seems to dissolve into a blur of insignificance. The lively dance floor, the animated conversations, and the elegantly dressed guests all fade into the periphery, leaving just the two of you in a world of your own. The feeling in your chest is instantaneous, as if time itself has slowed down to allow this pivotal encounter to unfold. In that shared look, there's an unspoken understanding that transcends the trappings of the grand event. It's as though your hearts have found a rhythm of their own, and the rest of the world falls away as you're drawn into the magnetic pull of each other's presence.

Amidst the exquisite backdrop of the soirée, a profound acknowledgement has been established. It's a moment of quiet intensity, as if the universe itself conspired to bring you together. There's a feeling of intrigue and fascination, like the opening chapter of a captivating novel that promises an extraordinary and unforeseen journey.

Just as you muster the courage to stride purposefully toward Satoru, filled with the hope of a friendly encounter, your intentions are suddenly derailed by the arrival of an enigmatic stranger. He emerges from the shadows like a mysterious phantom, casting an aura of intrigue and uncertainty over the entire event.

Dressed in a resplendent maritime uniform, his attire is bedecked with an ostentatious display of badges and medals, each shimmering with a history known only to him. The commanding uniform demands attention, and it's impossible not to notice the weight of his accomplishments. He is undeniably handsome, but his piercing, mischievous glint in those dark eyes sends a shiver down your spine. The blond hair, streaked with highlights of black, adds to his air of intrigue, as if his very appearance is a riddle to be unraveled.

Standing tall and imposing, he towers over you, casting a shadow that seems to swallow you whole. His presence is undeniable, almost suffocating, and you can't help but feel a strange mixture of awe and apprehension. When he speaks, his words are laced with the urgency of a man on a mission. There's no trace of sincerity or charm in his tone; it's as if he's a man with a secret agenda, and the weight of his purpose hangs heavily in the air.

In this enigmatic figure's presence, you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions, ranging from curiosity to unease. The encounter seems to be laden with unspoken promises and potential dangers, leaving you to navigate the unknown territory of your feelings in this unexpected and captivating twist of fate.

“You must be the esteemed lady of the night.” He spoke with so much confidence as he seemingly took a hold of your laced hand to press a slow, purposeful peck against your knuckles. With an unwavering air of confidence, Naoya addressed you, his intentions far from love but deeply rooted in duty and personal fulfillment.

Your lips, almost agape, struggled to form a coherent response, stunned by the abruptness of his presence. As you collected your thoughts, you couldn't help but succumb to the undeniable allure of his advances. "You mean 'Princess,'" you corrected him, your voice steady as you cleared your throat. "I am no mere 'Lady,' my Lord. And with that distinction in mind, who might you be?"

In that very moment, you observed the subtle yet undeniable twitch in his otherwise composed countenance. It was a rare sight, for usually, women would swoon or melt under the weight of his charm. But with you, it seemed different. He was genuinely irritated by the figurative wall you erected between yourself and him, a testament to your own strong will and determination.

Naoya recognized that "winning" your heart would be an arduous journey, a path filled with obstacles and challenges. Nevertheless, his confidence remained unshaken, fueled by the belief that he could secure the empty throne of your father. In the complex dance of royal ambition, it was a game he was determined to master.

Within the intricacies of the royal court, where desires for power reigned supreme, the Zen'ins were far from wanting. They possessed the means and influence to please the court, making the pursuit of your hand and crown a calculated and strategic endeavour.

On top of that, he was almost baffled at your question; who didn’t know who he was?

“Naoya Zen’in of Colchis.” He had briefly introduced himself and that confident smile that seemed to arduously etch its way onto his stupidly handsome face remained. You let out an exhale, knowing fully well the kingdom which he had travelled from. “And you, stunning princess, must be aware of wherefore I’ve decided to honour you with my presence.” His final statement appeared before you like a testament, almost mocking your status as the cursed princess. 

“Perhaps I do know.” Your response was slow and just as calculating as his intentions. You could now tell if he had led you to the dance floor to entertain you or dissect the thoughts which seemed to occupy your mind. “As many other men in this grand hall do.” 

The grand ballroom came alive with a symphony of hushed whispers and rustling of silks as you and Naoya Zen'in took the floor for your first dance. The gathering of nobility had become a hotbed of speculation and intrigue, the fervent gossip of the other maidens in the room swirling like a tempestuous sea. They couldn't help but notice your choice, and it was whispered with a mixture of envy, admiration, and curiosity, for Naoya Zen'in was known far and wide as a formidable suitor, a man of ambition and power.

It was clear that the gravity of the moment had not escaped the attendees, and the anticipation hung in the air, as if the very room held its breath, waiting to see what would transpire between you.

“Arcadia holds the greatest of weapons, forged by the hands of ancient practice,” Naoya spoke to you as if he had recited that information many times in his head before finally verbalizing it out loud; he knew what he was walking into the moment he took your hand, the question was, did you? “It’s a shame that the capacity of your kingdom’s tools is encumbered by the decree of a woman.” 

Your brows furrowed at his narrow comment. If he believed that women were unfit to manage the weapons of your kingdom, what more did he think of you? You shake your head, “my mother, she worked for what this kingdom has.” You felt the need to defend your mother, despite her cold rule, she was still the woman who raised you. “Everything Arcadia has now was fought for, rightfully so, and not simply passed down, Lord Naoya.” 

“That is undeniable,” he responded with a hint of spite, “but imagine what the people are currently saying now that she is a widowed queen.”

Your breath hitched at that moment. Was he toying with you?

As the waltz commenced, Naoya's confident grasp enveloped you, his strong arm guiding you gracefully across the polished marble floor. The soft strains of the orchestra's melody filled the room, casting an enchanting spell that seemed to erase all time and space. The glistening chandeliers above bathed the room in a warm, golden glow, their crystal prisms scattering the light into a thousand dazzling rainbows, mirroring the complex and colourful interplay of courtly politics.

You could not deny Naoya's skill in the art of dancing, his every step as fluid and precise as the strokes of a masterful painter's brush. His presence was commanding, and the dance itself was a flawless display of grace and control. But as the world around you seemed to blur into a hazy dream, you couldn't help but feel a disconnect between the refined exterior and the turbulent undercurrents of his desire.

The powerful rhythms of the waltz served as a backdrop to the unspoken tension that seemed to thicken the air. As he held you in his arms, his eyes burned with an eagerness that couldn't be concealed, a fervour that lay just beneath the surface of his confident facade. His grip on your waist, though elegant and practiced, betrayed a sense of urgency, a desire to possess, as if he saw this dance as more than just a ceremonial tradition

. You could sense that Naoya was a man who had long harboured ambitions, a man accustomed to commanding the world around him, and the prospect of winning the princess's hand seemed to be the grandest ambition of all. It was a goal that had been etched into his very being, a desire that consumed him, even as he tried to mask it with the veneer of composure.

The dance continued each twirl and step revealing a bit more of his true self, a man whose determination was as formidable as the kingdom he hailed from.

“My father is not dead,” you bite your tongue, you do not want to appear vulnerable before him now that he knows that where your mother stands is where your heart lies. He knew that the grandeur of this event was simply to please the woman who fought for it all. “I believe you know plenty about me already, my Lord, what about you?”

The other maidens' gossip reached your ears like distant echoes, but you remained resolute in your convictions. You had never been one to be swayed by appearances alone. A suitor must possess not only grace but also depth, not just ambition but also the capacity to understand and cherish the intricacies of your heart. You yearned for a connection that transcended the superficial, a love that would ignite the very depths of your soul.

Your mother would have turned down those ideals immediately, especially if she heard that you, her daughter, wanted to feel the desirous peonage of love. 

It was simply unacceptable.

Emotions would make you a weak queen.

Naoya’s voice rose above the soft strains of the orchestra, eager to fill the space with his ambitions. "I was always destined to rule over my brothers," he declared, a glint of certainty in his eyes. "It's only a matter of time before I ascend to the throne. That is enough you should know about me, no?"

You nodded politely, masking your growing discomfort with a smile, and sought to steer the conversation in a different direction. You were certain of his goals now. "What are your hobbies, Naoya?" you asked, hoping to discover a more well-rounded side to this man of power.

But his response left no room for deviation from his grandiose vision. "My hobbies? My dearest, conquering empires with you by my side, of course. I have no time for the trivial pastimes that amuse the imbeciles in this hall. They pale in comparison to the glory that awaits us."

As the waltz continued, he persisted in describing how you would look as "his queen" and the life you would lead at his side. It was a constant stream of grandiosity and self-assuredness, leaving you feeling increasingly suffocated by his unwavering focus on his own ambition.

Attempting to change the subject again, you inquired about his family, hoping to learn more about the man beneath the regal exterior. However, any mention of his kin only seemed to elicit a disdainful gaze.

"My family?" he scoffed. "They are beneath me, merely pawns in the grand game of destiny. I have no need for their counsel or their feeble attempts at ruling. I alone am fit to ascend the throne and lead our kingdom to unparalleled greatness."

He spoke of himself as if he had already won you over. ‘Our kingdom’? You almost jeered at his credence. Your annoyance with his self-absorption grew with each passing word, and you found yourself increasingly impatient with his arrogance. It became clear that Naoya had been indulged and coddled, living in a world where his desires were paramount and his destiny was unquestionable.

Everyone knew that the Zen’ins were in alliance with your family already. However, it wasn’t what many thought. The so-called alliance shouldn’t be synonymous with what your father considered an agreement. This agreement consisted of the exchange of Arcadian silverwork for the promise of allowing Arcadians to fish in Colchis waters. The Zen’ins were quite possessive of the land that they owned, so in sealing this deal, many assumed it was because both kingdoms were set for an alliance. 

That was not the case. Your father despised the Zen’ins. 

You already knew for sure that he was not a man you would ever consider. 

Maki and Nobara stood together on the sidelines, their sharp eyes following the unfolding scene from a distance. The grand ballroom was a spectacle of opulence and grandeur, but amidst the sea of nobility and extravagance, they couldn't help but notice the subtle discomfort that seemed to radiate from you as you engaged in conversation with Naoya Zen'in. It was clear that he was as obnoxious from afar as he had been up close, his self-absorption and ambition dominating the conversation.

Nobara leaned in closer to Maki, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she commented in a hushed tone, "Look at that, Maki. I'd say [Y/N] here is about as thrilled as a demon at a purification ceremony. This Naoya guy sure knows how to make an impression, doesn't he?"

She was holding a tall glass of champagne, something she shouldn’t be drinking yet but who would be stopping her? In her other hand, she held a plate full of delights. Scones, a piece of cake, and an Arcadian native: chocolate.

Maki, however, remained cold and distant, her eyes never leaving you. She had chosen not to give you the benefit of the doubt, perhaps because of the deep-seated skepticism that came with her upbringing in the Colchis kingdom. The Zen'ins were known for their power and ambition, but not for their treatment of women, a dark aspect of their history they had skillfully hidden in the annals of time.

The memory of serving in the Colchis kingdom and the price that came with it still haunted Maki. It was one of the reasons she had fled to Yukinia, leaving behind the oppressive past and seeking a new life where she could forge her destiny. She had seen too much suffering and too many women treated as mere pawns in the games of powerful men, and that experience had left her guarded and wary.

Nobara, ever observant, noticed the subtle shifts in your body language and sensed your discomfort. With a playful smirk, she turned to Maki and proposed, "You know, Maki, it seems like [Y/N] could use a bit of a rescue mission right about now. How about we swoop in, pretend we're her long-lost friends, and save her from the clutches of our ambitious suitor? What do you say?"

Maki hesitated, her expression remaining stoic, and her tone devoid of warmth as she responded, "Nobara, we don't know the whole story here. We should be cautious and not jump to conclusions. Besides, we don't want to create unnecessary drama in a place like this."

Nobara let out a melodramatic sigh, "Oh, Maki, always the voice of reason, aren't you? But don't you think we could at least offer some support to [Y/N] if she needs it? We could easily divert the attention away from Naoya. I mean, we don't want to see Satoru’s future wife suffer, right?"

Maki's gaze remained fixed on you, her thoughts unreadable. She couldn't deny the allure of the idea, but her past experiences had made her cautious, and she wasn't ready to act on impulse. "Let's wait a bit longer, Nobara," she finally said. "If she needs help, she has plenty of knights, ladies, and whatnot to look for. We’re strangers to her for now, we should be patient and see how this plays out."

From the corner of the dark-haired girl's eye, she caught a tantalizing glimpse of how Satoru Gojo, with his characteristic nonchalance, seemed to weave his way through the crowd, approaching you with a fluid grace that belied his casual demeanour. He moved as though the grand ballroom were his own private stage, two drinks in hand, perfectly balanced as if he had performed this maneuver countless times.

Satoru's approach was met with subtle, admiring glances from onlookers who were drawn to his magnetic presence. It was clear that he was a well-known figure in this elite social circle, and his charm had a way of enveloping those around him. With a practiced ease, he navigated the sea of guests, casting an enigmatic aura that left no room for doubt about his status and influence.

Satoru was no stranger to Naoya Zen'in; they had crossed paths on numerous occasions during other grand events and gatherings. The room became charged with unspoken hostilities as the two powerful men came face to face, their paths intersecting with the potential to shift the balance of power. As the evening unfolded, the dynamic between Satoru and Naoya added an intriguing layer of complexity to the grand ballroom, where ambition, rivalry, and desire all coexisted in a delicate dance of power and intrigue.

In the opulent grand ballroom, the air was thick with intrigue as Satoru Gojo approached you, his eyes never leaving yours. His charismatic presence drew the attention of those around him, and the subtle tension in the room seemed to escalate with every step he took. Satoru was known for his magnetic charm and confidence, qualities that had made him a prominent figure in the noble circles.

As he drew nearer, his sharp gaze wandered over Naoya Zen'in's meticulously adorned navy uniform. With a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes, Satoru couldn't resist a sly comment. "My, Naoya, you've got your navy cross on inside out. The medal's facing your chest." His tone was light, but the implication was undeniable.

Naoya's expression darkened in an instant, irritation simmering just below the surface. He had always seen Satoru as a rival, a man who threatened his ambitions and dreams. The comment hit a nerve, and he bristled with frustration. "Mind your own business, Satoru," he retorted, his voice curt. Naoya's patience was wearing thin. "Can't you see I'm having a conversation here?" he asked, his voice edged with frustration.

Satoru's grin widened as he responded, his words dripping with audacity, "More like, you're having a conversation with yourself, my friend." The room seemed to hold its breath at the boldness of his words, and your hand flew to your mouth in a mixture of surprise and amusement. Satoru was undeniably bold, and you found his audacity both entertaining and intriguing.

You, however, couldn't help but giggle at the exchange, finding Satoru's keen observation and cheeky remark entertaining. "Well, Satoru," you chimed in, your tone playful, "I have to admit, you're quite the observant one, aren't you?"

The orchestra's melodies provided a dramatic backdrop to the unfolding drama, their music shifting and evolving as the evening progressed. Suddenly, the orchestra veered into a change of course, the notes shifting to a more lively and upbeat tune. The sweet, melodious strains of Amure Waves filled the grand ballroom, causing a ripple of excitement to course through the guests.

Satoru turned to you, his gaze warm and inviting. "May I have this dance?" he asked. The mischievous glint in his eyes hinted at the playfulness of the offer.

Your heart quickened at the invitation, and you nodded eagerly. "I'd love to," you replied with a smile, your eyes alight with anticipation. The prospect of a dance with Satoru was enticing, and you couldn't resist the allure of his charm.

With a gracious nod, Satoru handed the two glasses of champagne to Naoya. His dismissal of the Zen'in was delivered with an almost victorious grin, a subtle declaration of his dominance in this particular exchange. Naoya, fuming with suppressed anger, had no choice but to accept the glasses as Satoru practically shoved them in his hands. He couldn't hide the irritation that simmered beneath the surface. As you and Satoru moved to the center of the grand ballroom, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a whirl of elegance and grace. The lively tune of Amure Waves enveloped you, and the dance felt like a moment frozen in time, a respite from the world of ambition and politics.

Satoru led with confidence, guiding you through the intricate steps with effortless grace. His touch was light yet sure, and every movement seemed to flow as if it were second nature. The dance was a fusion of skill and intimacy, a silent conversation between two people who had just met but felt an undeniable connection.

The tension that had filled the room earlier had transformed into a different kind of electricity, one that seemed to be born from admiration and curiosity. The boldness of Satoru's actions had injected a new element of excitement into the grand ballroom, and you couldn't help but revel in the exhilarating atmosphere.

As the enchanting melody of "Amure Waves" surrounded both of you on the dance floor, a sense of intrigue and anticipation lingered in the air. The two began their dance, and the playful banter flowed effortlessly between them.

Satoru, with a twinkle in his eye, broke the initial silence. "You know, [Y/N], this dance floor seems to come alive when you step onto it. It's like the music itself is trying to keep up with your grace."

[Y/N], caught off guard by the compliment, chuckled softly. "Flattery will get you everywhere, my Lord. But I must admit, you have a way with words. Observant about medals and now poetic about dance floors."

Satoru's grin widened. "Well, what can I say? I have a knack for spotting the extraordinary. And tonight, that's undeniably you." As the music escalated, Satoru leaned in, his voice a whisper against your ear. "You know, I've been watching you all evening. You navigate these social waters with a truly captivating grace. Tell me, Princess, what's the story behind those eyes? They seem to hold secrets and adventures waiting to be unravelled."

[Y/N], surprised by the depth of his observation, smiled knowingly. "Perhaps the story is still unfolding."

Satoru chuckled, the sound a melodic echo to the music. "Well then, [Y/N], let's make this story one worth remembering."

As the enchanting strains of the orchestra surrounded you and the silvern prince, you came to acknowledge how Satoru’s unrefined charisma became a beacon of light in the grand ballroom. His compliments were like the sparkle of stars against the night sky, and his playful banter created a sense of spontaneity amidst the rigid formality of the event. Satoru's words had a way of lifting the weight of societal expectations, allowing you to momentarily escape into the realm of carefree enjoyment.

However, even in the midst of this newfound charm, a growing unease nestled itself within the recesses of your thoughts. Like a shadow cast by the flickering candlelight, the watchful gaze of your mother lingered in the background. Her eyes, hidden in the shadows, bore into you with an intensity that felt like an unspoken force. Each step on the dance floor carried the weight of familial obligations, a reminder that, despite the enchantment of the evening, you were still tethered to the strings of her expectations.

As Satoru twirled you gracefully, your thoughts drifted to your mother. You wondered, in the quiet contents of her mind, if her thoughts were in harmony with your own. Did she appreciate the genuine connections you were forging, or did she harbour reservations about the unfolding dynamics? The dance floor became a metaphorical stage where the delicate interplay between personal desires and familial obligations played out.

You found yourself caught in a dance of conflicting emotions. The genuine enjoyment of the moment clashed with the ever-present awareness of the watchful eyes that observed your every move. The grand hall, adorned with glistening chandeliers and ornate decorations, became a battleground where the clash between individuality and tradition unfolded.

The room transformed into a kaleidoscope of emotions. Each twirl and laugh carried with it the unspoken question of whether you were living up to the role your mother had envisioned for you. The air was thick with tension, a delicate dance between personal fulfillment and the expectations that hung in the air like the fragrance of blooming flowers. In the tapestry of the grand ballroom, where the elegance of the event intertwined with the complexities of familial obligations, you yearned for a moment of clarity. 

The enchantment of the music and the charm of Satoru were juxtaposed against the weight of societal expectations, creating a nuanced landscape of emotions that painted the dance floor with shades of joy, uncertainty, and the ever-present quest for approval.

Ever perceptive, Satoru began to sense the subtle shift in your demeanor. His keen eyes, like an astute observer of emotions, caught the fleeting moments of unease that flitted across your features. With a slight tilt of his head, he gracefully steered the conversation into a more intimate space.

Satoru, with a gentle twirl that seamlessly incorporated your emotions into the dance, leaned in slightly, his eyes reflecting a genuine concern that transcended the formalities of the evening. "You seem a bit distracted," he observed, his voice a low, soothing murmur that resonated with understanding. "Is there something troubling you, ?"

Caught off guard by the sincerity of his inquiry, you couldn't help but offer a soft smile. The dance floor, which moments ago had been a stage for societal expectations, transformed into a space where vulnerability could coexist with elegance. The lilting notes of the music surrounding both of you created a cocoon of melody, you felt the weight of unspoken burdens press upon your shoulders. The grand ballroom, with its opulent chandeliers casting a warm glow, seemed both a sanctuary and a confessional as Satoru Gojo's perceptive eyes delved into the depths of your emotions.

"It's just," you began, your voice carrying a delicate tremor, "I— I don’t know..." you were unsure whether it was wise for you to share the burden of your thoughts to a man you’ve only met ten minutes ago. “I could tell you every thought that I’m currently experiencing, my Lord, but our position as strangers is preventing me from doing so.”

Your words hung in the air, a delicate dance of vulnerability amidst the swirling elegance. Satoru's gaze held a quiet understanding, acknowledging the intricacies of the unspoken weight that had woven itself into the fabric of the dance.

To an extent, you were right. The dance had brought you together, but the tapestry of your lives remained largely unknown to each other. The mysterious allure of Satoru Gojo was accompanied by the shroud of unfamiliarity. You were not acquainted with the intricacies of his kingdom, nor were you privy to the aspirations that drove him. This ball, though a stage for connection, remained a realm where shadows of mystery loomed. As charming as Satoru presented himself, a flicker of doubt traversed your thoughts. The grand ballroom, adorned with splendor, seemed to whisper tales of men who wore masks of civility but concealed ambitions that echoed in the corridors of power. Your mind, caught in the dance of uncertainty, toyed with the notion that perhaps Satoru was no different from every other man in the grand hall.

This moment appeared to become a metonamy of the delicate balance between the unexplored territories of the heart and the pragmatic choices dictated by societal expectations. 

“My mother used to tell me that words come by nature, to be told in time.” Satoru began and you meet his eyes for a moment; realizing how they seem to capture you in this moment, trapping you in a situation where you are unable to look away from him. It was only you and him, caught in the middle of waltzing figures around you. 

You purse your lips in thought, formulating your following words carefully, “would it drive you away if I told you that whatever is troubling me appears most frequently in this hall?

The white-haired man’s lips curled up in a small smile, intrigued, “what makes you think that will drive me away?”

“Emotions,” you blurt out incospicuously. 

Satoru lets out a chuckle, “you think that I will run away because you are expressing your feelings, Princess?” He shakes his head. "To think that most people believe that you’re cursed…” Satoru's words created a momentary pause in the dance. The unexpected comment left you bewildered, a flicker of surprise etching across your features. You did not anticipate that anyone, let alone a prince, would bring up the undoings of your past. Speechless, you sought clarity.

“Excuse me?” you responded, the confusion evident in your voice. The dance floor, once a refuge, now seemed like a stage for the unexpected unveiling of hidden narratives. The echoes of rumors painted a canvas you had hoped to keep concealed.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Princess, but rumors are abound, and I have heard much about you…” Satoru's tone was measured, as if carefully navigating the delicate terrain of revelation. The weight of his words settled, leaving you to grapple with the realization that the whispers outside your castle had breached the sanctuary of the dance.

“Did that change your perceptions of me? Am I… just a Cursed Princess to you?” The question slipped from your lips, accompanied by a quiver that betrayed the heaviness rising in your chest. Dread, sadness—emotions tangled in a web of uncertainty. The notion of being personified by those beyond the castle walls felt both foreign and painfully real.

“Absolutely not,” Satoru reassured, the immediacy of his response echoing with sincerity. Yet, the unease lingered, a shadow cast by the revelation. “In a matter of minutes, Princess, you have shown me that you are not unique to, or different from other princesses of this realm,” he continued, and you grappled with the ambiguous nature of his words. Was he calling you ordinary? Boring?

“You are not cursed. You are a human being, regal, may I add, but you are as you’re supposed to be.” His words, though meant to dispel the weight of the rumors, left you in a state of uncertainty. This hall, once a stage for grace and elegance, had transformed into a space where the complexities of identity were laid bare. "You may be the Cursed Princess to everyone else in this grand hall, but if you will allow me: let me know you as [Y/N]." Satoru's invitation to escape the weight of external judgments was a lifeline in the midst of uncertainty. 

The echoes of revelation lingered. His words, delivered with a sincerity that cut through the ballroom's facade, felt like a gentle breeze dispelling the stifling atmosphere. Satoru's eyes, filled with a compassionate understanding, conveyed a shared acknowledgment of the societal pressures that permeated such events. With a subtle tightening of his grip, he conveyed reassurance, a silent promise that, for the duration of this dance, you could escape the weight of those external expectations. 

For the first time you did not carry the weight of your mother’s expectations for you. You were not a princess whose purpose was duty. For the first time, Satoru has shown you that you were more than this regal title that you were born with. 

The Grand Hall, witness to the intricacies of your dance, held within its walls the untold stories that would unfold in time.

“So, let me introduce myself,” Satoru’s smile makes its way on his face; he was so kind, so charming, “my name is Satoru Gojo, Prince of Yukinia, but you can just call me Satoru.”

You were breathless.

“My name…” you tried fighting a grin. You felt so deeply, madly, undeniably infatuated by the white-haired man before you. “My name is [Y/N]. A pleasure to meet you.”

Satoru gleams, “the pleasure is all mine, [Y/N].”

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. adorahub © 2023 ⸝⸝ do not translate, plagiarize or remake any of my work! reposting my work is allowed - likes, reblogs && comments are appreciated.

❬ 005 ❭ through my fault ⸝⸝ the unpredictability of the heart

synopsis. desperate to find you a suitor to expand the kingdom, your mother finds ways to ensure that you rule in her image; even if that means breaking your relationship with your future husband.

genre. arranged marriage, royalty au, slow burn, +18

warnings. naoya zen'in, some manipulation and power play

wc. 3.7K — a 20-minute read

author's note. this is so much shorter than I wanted it to be but I hope you enjoy it anyway

↳ playlist ➙ series masterlist ➙ next chapter

Regent Queen Aia stood in the opulent ballroom, her regal presence commanding attention as her discerning eyes tracked every move of her daughter on the dance floor. The grandeur of the occasion was reflected in the glittering chandeliers that hung overhead, casting a soft radiance upon the mosaic of noble attendees in resplendent attire.

As her daughter gracefully twirled in the arms of Naoya Zen'in, the woman felt a subtle satisfaction, though it wasn't derived from the man's charm or wit—qualities that, she observed, were conspicuously absent. No, it was the very name "Zen'in" that resonated with a power that transcended individual traits. It was a name steeped in the history of unyielding strength, an enduring legacy that had weathered the ebb and flow of time.

The Zen'in lineage, etched into the fabric of the kingdom's narrative, possessed an almost mythical quality. The regent Queen, a shrewd strategist, recognized the weight that came with such a name. It was a name that exuded authority and stability, qualities she deemed essential for securing not only her daughter's future but the prosperity of the realm itself. In contrast, Satoru Gojo, the white-haired enigma from the desolate kingdom of Yukinia, moved across the dance floor with an air of mystery that intrigued the regent. The tales of his family's castle, shrouded in secrets and guarded by an ancient magic, whispered promises of something beyond the tangible. Yet, the Queen couldn't overlook the fact that this power, while formidable, lacked the centuries-old foundation that the Zen'in lineage boasted.

Naoya Zen’in’s confidence radiated like a quiet storm, a force of nature that had stood unyielding for generations. The woman envisioned a union that transcended the ephemeral allure of the present, a marriage that would bind her daughter to a legacy of unassailable strength.

As the strains of the music echoed in the grand ballroom, your mother subtly orchestrated the pieces on the political chessboard. Her goal was clear—to align you with a man of unwavering power, and in her eyes, Naoya Zen'in personified that power. The intricacies of courtly maneuvering unfolded like a tapestry, each calculated step contributing to the weaving of a narrative that would shape the destiny of the kingdom.

The regent Queen Aia, in her unwavering conviction, believed that the future of her daughter was not to be decided by fleeting enchantments or superficial charm. She held fast to the belief that in the realm of politics and power, a mother's discernment surpassed all. As the dance of alliances unfolded, she stood as the orchestrator, directing the symphony of courtly intrigue towards a harmonious union—one that would stand the test of time, much like the indomitable lineage of the Zen'ins.

Amidst the grandeur of the ballroom, the air thick with unspoken tension, Regent Queen Aia found herself face to face with Queen Saeko of Yukinia. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the weight of their respective kingdoms hung in the delicate balance of diplomacy. Queen Saeko, draped in the elegance of winter's embrace, spoke first.

"Regent Queen Aia," Saeko's voice was a melodic cadence, "what a splendid affair this is. Your daughter seems to be the belle of the ball."

Aia, ever the diplomat, offered a courteous nod. "Indeed, Queen Saeko. Such gatherings provide an opportune moment for alliances to take root."

Saeko's eyes sparkled with an icy brilliance. "I couldn't agree more. Speaking of alliances, how fares your bedridden husband? I hope his health has not further declined."

Aia's expression tightened imperceptibly at the mention of her husband. She had no desire to reveal vulnerabilities to a potential adversary, even one veiled in pleasantries. "My husband's health is a private matter, Queen Saeko. I assure you, the affairs of our kingdom are well attended."

Saeko, seemingly oblivious to the subtle tension, continued with a friendly smile. "I only inquire out of genuine concern, dear Aia. Our kingdoms may have their differences, but the well-being of our rulers is a shared concern."

Aia, ever cautious, maintained her composure but chose her words with precision. "Your concern is noted, Queen Saeko. However, the affairs of Yukinia and our own kingdom are best kept separate."

Saeko's demeanor, though outwardly warm, carried a glint of curiosity. "Of course, I meant no offense. Merely extending a hand in friendship."

The grand ballroom, adorned in the soft radiance of crystal chandeliers, became a theater of nobility, where the dance of politics unfolded like a delicate tapestry. The symphony's enchanting notes swept through the air, harmonizing with the elaborate choreography of the guests in attendance.

Your mother, draped in regal attire that mirrored the opulence of her kingdom, stood as a poised figure amidst the swirling dance. Her eyes, sharp and discerning, tracked the movements of her daughter and the captivating Satoru Gojo. On the periphery, Queen Saeko, the embodiment of warmth and maternal grace, observed with an affectionate watchfulness.

As Saeko leaned in to offer her comment, her words were delivered with a genuine smile that softened the air. The ballroom, once charged with tension, now basked in the glow of contrasting energies—Aia's calculated authority and Saeko's motherly warmth.

"It seems your daughter and my son share an undeniable chemistry," Saeko remarked, her voice a gentle melody amidst the symphony. "Quite an intimate display, wouldn't you say?"

Aia, momentarily taken aback, found herself caught in the warmth of Saeko's sincerity. The tension of the dance floor seemed to dissipate as Saeko's words embraced the room like a comforting embrace.

"Oh, Queen Saeko, such matters are not for casual commentary," Aia responded, her tone carrying a regal poise, but lacking the edge of defensiveness. "The dance floor often distorts appearances."

Saeko's laughter, a melodic resonance, echoed through the grandeur of the space. "Ah, but appearances can be quite telling, don't you think? A dance such as this reveals more than words ever could."

Aia's response, though guarded, lacked the usual defensive undertones. The regent, seemingly caught in the warmth of Saeko's presence, acknowledged the complexity of the situation with a subtle nod.

"One should not presume too much from mere appearances, Queen Saeko. Decisions of the heart are complex and not easily discerned," Aia reiterated, her words carrying the weight of experience.

Saeko's gaze softened, a motherly understanding in her eyes. "Very true. Yet, sometimes, the heart knows what the mind cannot grasp."

As the music approached its zenith, Saeko, guided by a gentle insistence, proposed a meeting between the regent and her son. The ballroom, now a tableau of contrasting personalities and diplomatic nuances, bore witness to the unfolding drama.

"I insist you meet my son," Saeko said, her voice carrying a gentle authority. "A face-to-face exchange might reveal more than these dances ever could."

Aia, maintaining her regal composure, considered Saeko's proposal with a discerning gaze. The ballroom, once a stage for political machinations, now became a space where the genuine warmth of a mother's intentions met the calculated maneuvers of a regent queen. 

The grand ballroom, a resplendent tapestry of opulence, echoed with the enchanting strains of a symphony that underscored the elaborate dance of nobility. You found yourself at the center of this regal spectacle, flanked by your mother, a figure of imposing authority, and the charismatic Satoru Gojo, whose carefree demeanor seemed to defy the calculated choreography of courtly affairs.

As Queen Saeko approached, her radiance illuminated the room like a beacon of warmth. Satoru, with an irreverent grin, greeted her with a nonchalant charm that mirrored the casual sway of his movements. You, however, remained guarded, offering a fabricated simper and a nod as your mother's sharp eyes bore into your soul.

Queen Saeko, her eyes alight with a maternal affection, addressed Gojo with a compliment that echoed through the grandeur of the ballroom. "My dearest Satoru, you look splendid tonight. Such a fine dancer, just like your father."

Gojo's response was a carefree grin, his irreverent charm undiminished even in the face of such regal company. "Always the charmer, Mother. You know I get it from you."

On the other side of the dance floor, your mother scrutinized Gojo's behavior with a discerning gaze, as if dissecting the nuances of his every move. Tension lingered in the air, a silent confrontation of expectations and agendas.

"Stand up straight, dear. No slouching." Your mother uses a finger to lift your chin upwards, casting a stern expression towards you. “You are a reflection of our kingdom, and we cannot afford to appear anything less than regal.” You straightened your posture under the weight of her gaze, feeling the scrutiny not just from her but from the courtly onlookers who observed the unfolding drama. 

The ballroom, once an arena of enchanting melodies and graceful movements, now bore witness to a clash of personalities and intentions. The dialogue, though polite on the surface, crackled with an underlying tension that added an edge to the elegance of the evening. As the symphony continued its mesmerizing performance, the subtle interplay between the four figures unfolded like a complex dance. Gojo, seemingly unburdened by the weight of royal expectations, maintained his flippant demeanor. Your mother, on the other hand, watched his every move with a discerning eye, an arbiter of tradition and decorum.

A soft smile played on your lips, a genuine response to the warmth radiating from Queen Saeko. However, your mother's perusal persisted, a silent reminder that every gesture and expression carried weight in the courtly ballet.

The grand ballroom, adorned in resplendent hues and bathed in the soft glow of crystal chandeliers, became a stage for the intricate dance of royalty. The strains of the symphony painted a delicate melody, weaving through the air like a tapestry of courtly elegance. At the heart of this spectacle, you stood, caught in the interplay of familial expectations and the warmth of Queen Saeko's affections.

The atmosphere, once tense, began to shift as Queen Saeko, a beacon of maternal warmth, sought to dissolve the subtle frostiness that lingered in the air. "My dear," she addressed you with a voice as gentle as a summer breeze, "you look absolutely radiant tonight. A true jewel among the court."

A soft smile played on your lips, genuine warmth kindling in your eyes as you acknowledged her words. "Thank you, Queen Saeko. Your kindness is truly heartening."

As if to emphasize her sentiment, Queen Saeko, with a tender grace, brushed her knuckles against your cheek. The touch was light, fleeting, but it carried a warmth that seemed to penetrate the layers of courtly formality. Her praise, a balm to the lingering tension, momentarily lifted the weight that your mother's scrutiny had placed on your shoulders.

Meanwhile, your mother, a figure of regal pride, couldn't resist interjecting into the exchange. "Of course, she's a vision. I've raised her to be nothing less than the epitome of grace and beauty."

Her words, though steeped in maternal pride, carried an air of possessiveness, as if claiming credit for the masterpiece you had become. The grand hall, adorned with nobility and adorned in opulence, stood as a testament to the success of her influence, according to her.

"Indeed," your mother continued, her gaze a mix of authority and self-satisfaction, "this hall is brimming with suitors, all vying for her favor. A testament to my success in shaping her into a woman of unmatched desirability."

You remained silent, a poised figure in the midst of the exchange, glancing towards Satoru Gojo, who seemed unfazed by the unfolding dynamics. His gaze met yours, a flicker of understanding passing between you. The unspoken language exchanged was a shared acknowledgment of the intricacies that governed courtly life.

Your mother's gaze, sharp as a dagger, shifted towards you as she posed a question that cut through the diplomatic veneer. "Who do you have in mind so far?"

The weight of the question hung in the air, a challenge veiled in maternal expectation. You met her gaze with a measured composure, choosing your words with care. "The evening is still young, Mother. I haven't made any decisions yet."

Queen Saeko, sensing the delicate balance, interjected with a gentle smile. "A wise approach, my dear. The heart should not be rushed. Allow the evening to unfold at its own pace."

Her words carried a wisdom that transcended the courtly dance, a reminder that decisions of the heart were not to be made hastily. The symphony, weaving a backdrop of harmony, seemed to echo the sentiment, as if urging patience and grace in the delicate ballet of emotions.

The grand ballroom, now a stage for familial dynamics and unspoken tensions, bore witness to the delicate interplay between tradition and individual autonomy. In the midst of courtly splendor and maternal expectations, you navigated the dance with a grace that mirrored the radiance of the jewels adorning the noble attendees. The night held promises yet to be unveiled, and the decisions that loomed on the horizon would shape not only your destiny but the intricate narrative of courtly affairs.

Your mother did not appreciate Queen Saeko’s comment, but she masked this displeased facade by seizing upon the remark with an air of disdain. "Indeed, Queen Saeko," she responded with a measured tone, her eyes carrying a hint of challenge. "While I appreciate your perspective, some of us understand the urgency of such matters."

The unspoken clash of philosophies hung in the air, a clash between the warmth of Queen Saeko's maternal wisdom and the calculated determination of your mother. The symphony, though continuing its enchanting performance, seemed to underscore the discordant notes beneath the surface. You, caught between the currents of maternal expectations, observed the exchange with a quiet introspection. The grand ballroom, adorned in opulence and bathed in the soft glow of crystal chandeliers, became a silent battleground of conflicting perspectives.

As the tension lingered, your mother, unwilling to yield ground, directed her gaze back at you. "Who is a worthy suitor, [Y/N]?" she repeated, her question carrying the weight of expectation. “The Kamos, perhaps? Maybe, a Zen’in?” 

You met her gaze with a measured composure, a subtle defiance glinting in your eyes. "There are many bright—” you wouldn’t say young— “men in this grand hall, mother… which is making my decision harder to make.”

As the subtle clash between your mother and Queen Saeko lingered in the air, your mother, ever determined, turned her attention back to you. "So, my dear," she inquired with a regal poise, "what do you propose to help facilitate this process?"

Caught in the crossfire of conflicting expectations, you blurted out an idea that had been forming in your mind. "Perhaps narrowing down the options would be a prudent approach. A more intimate setting to assess compatibility."

The suggestion seemed to strike a chord with your mother, her discerning gaze contemplating the proposal. After a moment of contemplation, she decided to seize the reins of the situation. "A dinner, then. We shall invite two suitors then."

Satoru's eyes gleamed with a mixture of anticipation and hope at the prospect. His charismatic charm had danced through the evening, leaving an impression that lingered in the grand ballroom. A dinner invitation suggested a chance, an opportunity to showcase more than just a fleeting impression on the dance floor. Of course, in the midst of the courtly affairs, the question lingered in the air—would Satoru Gojo be deemed a worthy candidate? His charisma and charm, though undeniable, had yet to be tested against the stringent standards of royal compatibility.

The grand ballroom, once filled with the enchanting strains of the symphony, became a stage for the delicate dance of courtly intrigue. As your mother declared the details of the upcoming dinner, an undercurrent of anticipation swept through the gathered nobility. The courtly attendees, ever attuned to the ebb and flow of power dynamics, began to sense a pivotal moment in the air.

"How will we make the decision of who those two suitors will be?" you inquired, your gaze subtly flickering toward Satoru. The question hung in the air like a delicate note, and the courtly attendees, always hungry for the drama of noble affairs, began to shift their attention towards the unfolding conversation.

Your mother responded with a measured tone, "The decision-making process shall be one of careful consideration. I, as your mother and a steward of our lineage, shall make my choice based on what I believe is best for our kingdom." The courtly onlookers, discreetly eavesdropping on the exchange, exchanged subtle glances. Whispers of curiosity rippled through the ballroom as the nobility, like birds sensing a shift in the wind, began to circle around you. "As for you," your mother continued, acknowledging the unspoken questions in the eyes of those gathered, "you shall have the agency to make a decision as well. Consider it a testament to the changing tides of tradition. The final decision, however, shall be made over the course of the dinner."

The attendees, now drawn into the orbit of this unfolding drama, cast speculative glances at one another. The upcoming dinner, initially seen as a mere formality, had evolved into a pivotal moment where fates would be decided and alliances forged. Among the circling nobility, Naoya Zen'in seemed to glide with a predatory grace. His sharp eyes, always keenly attuned to the currents of courtly affairs, caught wind of the conversation. A subtle smirk played on his lips as he observed the dynamics at play.

As the whispers and hushed conversations intensified, the nobility seemed to close in, forming an invisible circle around you. The symphony, though still playing in the background, became a distant murmur against the rising tide of courtly speculation.

Your mother, undeterred by the growing audience, gestured toward the upcoming dinner with a graceful sweep of her hand. "It is within the confines of that intimate setting that the final decisions shall be made. As for now, let us continue on with the night.” 

The grand ballroom, awash in the soft glow of crystal chandeliers, now resembled a tapestry of swirling colours and hushed whispers. The symphony, once the guiding melody of nobility, had transformed into a distant hum against the tapestry of courtly affairs. As you stood in contemplation, your gaze drifted to Satoru engaged in conversation with the pink-haired boy, a sudden burst of laughter punctuating their discussion.

Amidst the swirl of courtly figures, Kara, your dearest friend, approached with her characteristic exuberance, linking arms with you. "Oh, princess, did you hear that grand proposal about the dinner? It's like a feast for gossip! I can already imagine the scandalous speculations echoing through these hallowed halls!"

Your lips curved into a wry smile at Kara's theatrics. "Yes, I’m awre," you replied, the weight of the impending decisions still heavy on your mind.

Kara's eyes, ever sharp, detected the undercurrent of worry. "What's brewing in that brilliant mind of yours?"

You sighed, allowing the vulnerability to surface. "I'm scared, Kara. What if I… don’t make the right decision?"

Kara's response was immediate, her hand finding its way to your shoulder. "You have always told me that the choices we make are like constellations in the vast sky.” Her head tilts to the side as she flashes you a dimpled smile. Her dark skin seemed to glimmer beneath the lights. “Each star adds to the brilliance of your journey.”

Kara’s words seemed to coax a genuine smile from you. “Like stars… have you been reading those scientific texts that Suguru owns?"

“Absolutely!” She grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Now, tell me, who's caught your eye in this sea of potential suitors? A dashing lord, perhaps? A brooding baron? Or maybe the mysterious Yukinian Prince everyone is talking about?"

You chuckled at Kara's theatrics. "I haven't decided yet, Kara. And please, no more nicknames for the suitors."

As the banter between friends continued, Kara couldn't resist delving deeper into the intrigue. "But really, are you considering Prince Satoru?"

Caught off guard by the directness of her question, you blinked in surprise. "Well, I... I don't know, Kara. I mean, he's charming and all, but..."

Kara's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "But? But what, [Y/N]?"

You hesitated, glancing toward the distant figure of Satoru engaged in lively conversation. "We had a... moment. I can't quite explain it."

Kara's eyebrows wiggled mischievously. “That's intriguing. You've got that look in your eye."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing on your lips. "What look?"

"The look," Kara insisted, her eyes widening with mock seriousness. "You know, the one you had when we were teenagers. Every time I read to you about your favourite character, you had this ardent expression. That same look."

You blushed, memories of your teenage years flooding back. "Kara, that was different. I was a kid, and it was just a character in a book."

Her teasing grin widened. "Oh, but the heart wants what it wants. And it seems, my dear, your heart might be having a little rendezvous with Prince Satoru."

Flustered, you tried to defend yourself. "Kara, come on. It's not like that. I'm not in love with Satoru yet."

Her eyes twinkled with amusement. "Yet," she emphasized, her grin widening. "You said 'yet,' which means you're considering him."

You rolled your eyes, unable to deny Kara's observation. "Fine, maybe I'm considering him, but it's all so complicated. This isn't a storybook romance, Kara."

Kara chuckled, her voice gentle. "No, it's not. But, princess, that's what makes it all the more fascinating. The unpredictability of the heart, the dance of emotions. Embrace it."

As you stood amidst the opulence of the grand ballroom, the cascading notes of the symphony and the soft glow of crystal chandeliers painted an ethereal backdrop to the tumult within your heart. Kara's words lingered in the air, a reminder of the unpredictable dance of emotions. In that moment, as the whispers of courtly affairs swirled around you, you found solace in the unpredictability of the heart. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing the intricate tapestry of your own desires. The memory of the intense waltz with Prince Satoru replayed in your mind, each step a testament to the uncharted territories your heart dared to explore. 

Wordlessly, within the confines of your thoughts, you embraced the unpredictability, allowing it to shape your decision. Tomorrow's dinner, an intimate affair that promised to unveil the choices that lay ahead, would bear witness to the enigmatic dance between your heart and the elusive Prince Satoru.

taglist: @cookielovesbook-akie @vlbi @purpleguk

if you would like to be on my tag list, don’t be afraid to send me an ask!!

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. adorahub © 2023 ⸝⸝ do not translate, plagiarize or remake any of my work! reposting my work is allowed - likes, reblogs && comments are appreciated.

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

Cold winters ᯓ★

Gojo x F! Reader (8.4k word count)

⋆ SYPNOSIS: you and a classmate get assigned to work on a project together only for your feelings to progress the more you work together.

⋆ INFO: fem reader, modern au, no curses, fluff, classmates to lovers, self-consious thoughts from reader, not proof read, gojo might be ooc, cursing.

You seemed to enjoy cold winters—the snow dusting the ground and creating a seemingly dream-like atmosphere. The only thing you disliked about these snowy times was the countless couples seeming to show up and appear out of nowhere. Shoving their relationships into your face (they were just holding hands) pointed out how you felt lonely with nobody to share your body heat in an attempt to keep warm in these harsh times. Yet your countless failed relationships or situationships confirmed your struggles to find someone interested in you as much as you were interested in them.

This was until a certain blue-eyed boy showed up in the equation; he was cute, of course. You thought nothing more of it, knowing that it wouldn't lead to anything. This was just wishful thinking on your part, believing you would have a chance with him despite the countless number of girls fawning over him—countless prettier girls than you thought.

You met him in one of your high school classes; you actually had him in most of your periods. Your 7th-period teacher has assigned a project with assigned partners, and you were assigned with him. You only had minor conversations with him; most of them were him asking you for help since he wasn't paying attention and was just messing around with his friends. Yet now you'd have to work with him both outside and inside of school to finish this project, which was worth a lot of your grade. You weren't really looking forward to it, thinking that you'd have to do most of the work with him slacking off, yet you still had hope for at least a decent grade.

December 4th.

"You guys will be working on a project with assigned partners; your partners will be shown on the screen, so get to work. This will be due at the end of the month and will be a big percentage of your grade." Your teacher says, You turn to the screen to look for your partner. Scanning through a list of names of your classmates, you find yours: "y/n & gojo." You read through your squinted eyes while trying to search for your name. You were hoping I'd be at least one of your friends from this period, yet you get someone known for being a class clown—someone who doesn't necessarily pay attention… You're hoping it wasn't bad. Being too caught up in your own thoughts, you didn't realize Gojo was making his way toward you.

"Heyyy y/n…" he said, with, of course, an alter motive clear in his voice. "yes, gojo?" You stare at him as he makes his way in front of your table while dragging a chair behind him and placing it in front of you. "You know I appreciate you and respect you, right?" He grins, batting his lashes at you. "Gojo, I'll do most of the work if you at least put some effort into it." You sigh at his antics, moving to put your check into the palm of your hand. "Deal!" he grins at you. "What's your number, y/n? I want to be able to text you if I need help on this project…" He grins at you once again, this smile of his always making your stomach turn. "Oh, uh, do you have your phone on you? I can just type it in if it's okay with you." He nods towards you, gravitating to reach for his phone to give it to you.

"Here you go." He passes the phone to you with the new contact page open already, going to grab his phone while typing your number into it. "Uh, if you have questions or anything, you can just text me. We should set up a day to meet up so we can try to finish this as early as possible so we won't have to worry about it later on." You look at him only to find his eyes already on you. "Is this a way of asking me out on a date?" He smirks at you. "You wish; I just want to get this assignment over." "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He frowns slightly, this action going unnoticed by you.

December 6th.

It was finally Friday. Thank the gods. You had finished a bit less than half of the project with Gojo only doing anything, yet it was Gojo. What did you expect? You dreaded going into your 7th period, knowing Gojo would just be bugging you for most of the period, barely allowing you to do at least some of the work to be considered on track. As your 6th-period bell rang, signaling that you should head toward your 7th period, you started to head toward your class, attempting to avoid other students who were just being loud in the hallway. A stark contrast to your character.

As you entered your class and headed towards your seat, you found Gojo already there, awaiting your arrival. You found him with his head down on the desk next to yours. As you got to your seat, you got your laptop and materials from your bag and placed them on your table. Only now do you realize the soft snores leaving Gojo. Realizing he is asleep, you try your best to keep quiet. This can at least allow you to do some work while Gojo keeps quiet.

As you pull up the assignment on your now-opened laptop, you notice Gojo stirring in his sleep. This was a sign for you to stop your movements, trying to keep quiet, although the whole class was loud— you were surprised at how Gojo can nap in such a loud environment. You kept your eyes on him for a while, looking for when he'd stop moving. As he stopped moving, you turned your eyes back onto your shared document with Gojo. When you decided to finish one of your slides that was half done, you were too focused on gathering your research and typing it down to realize that you were reaching the end of the period.

The end of the 7th period bell alerts you. At the end of this period, you start to pack your things away, only to still find Gojo asleep. You were at least glad your next and final period was a free one, finding this as an opportunity to finish other work and to relax for a while. But Gojo still had a period next; you attempted to wake him up to no avail.

"Gojo, wake up; it's 8th period now, and you're going to be late." You shake him only for him to finally stir in his sleep. "5 more minutes." His voice was groggy from his nap. "No extra minutes; you have to wake up." "I don't want to…" his head still in his folded arms on the desk. "Well, you have to; you literally have like… 3 more minutes to get to your next class, gojo." As you say that, he finally lifts his head off of the desk and looks at you with a pout. "Aren't you going to be late? Or do you care so much about me that you don't care about that?" he says as he makes fake kissing noises to mock you. "Okay, shut up, dude. I have a free period next, but I know you don't, so wake up and get going." He yawns as he stands up, grabbing his bag in the process.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he says as he drags the 'r. ' You start to head towards the door before Gojo beats you to it and opens the door for you. "Ladies first." He winks at you while you give him a deadpan look, and despite your seemingly reactionless response, you can't help but feel the flutter that's caused in your stomach. Your own body is sabotaging you.

"Thanks," you mutter under your breath as you exit the class. "Since today is Friday, would you want to go to a cafe to try and finish the project?" Gojo asks, with a slight tint of blush covering his face; this also goes unnoticed by you once again. "Sure, just text me when and where." You turn towards him with a slight smile gracing your lips as you turn back around to start heading toward your own destination. Once you turned around, you couldn't help but smile a bit more, knowing this was just a study session, nothing more and nothing less, but you still couldn't help but feel a bit happy knowing he was the one who asked you.

It was finally the end of the day, and you were feeling eager, awaiting a text from Gojo. Yeah, you felt a bit silly waiting for him to text you, but you're just a girl. What? Can't a girl dream anymore? Call it delusions or whatever, but you noticed your feelings growing over time working with him. His small mannerisms rubbed off on you so much that even your own friends noticed. A vibration from your phone caused you to snap out of your thoughts and look at the new notification, only to find it was from Gojo, speaking of the devil.

(xxx)-xxx-xxxx: hey its gojo, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up right now and go to the cafe that's a couple blocks down?

y/n: yeah thats fine with me, meet me in front of school?

quickly saving his contact, you await his response, only for him to respond in a matter of seconds.

gojo: c u there :)

You checked the time; it was 3:25 as you started heading towards the front of the school from where you were originally. Trying to get there slowly so you can find Gojo first rather than him finding you.

You finally exit the school doors and find Gojo leaning on the wall right next to the doors. As you start making your way towards him, he looks up from his phone to look at you. "you ready?" He asks, the sun hitting his tinted lenses, making his eyes barely visible. "Yeah, which cafe are we going to? I didn't know there was one nearby.." "We're going to this small cafe by here; it's pretty good, but I've only been there once." You nod as you start to follow Gojo towards the cafe.

On your way there, you had small talk; there was silence, of course, but it was nothing uncomfortable—you welcomed that silence because it was nice. After awhile, you noticed it started getting cold. You started to regret not bringing a sweater to school today, as the winters were getting colder by the second. You started to slightly tremble, wrapping yourself in your own hands to try to create the warmth that you so desperately needed. Gojo noticed this and decided to take off his sweater and hand it to you.

“Here, take it.” His hand was right in front of you, with his sweater in hand. You wanted to wear it, but, I mean, hell freeze to death as well. “I can't; you’d be cold too, Gojo." You turn to face him with worry displayed on your face. "Nah, I’ll be fine; you need it more than me—I mean, you're practically shivering. The cafe isn’t that far, and I don’t want you to get sick 'cause we have to finish the project.” At this point, you both stopped in your tracks. A sigh left your lips as you took his sweater and put it on.

You let out a barely audible thanks to him; it would go unnoticed by those not paying attention—yet Gojo's attention was all on you, yet you never noticed.

“This is the cafe; it’s pretty small, but I think it's pretty good.” He winks at you, flutters erupting in your stomach, yet you think nothing of them. Just you wishing they’d go away. He goes to open the door for you, muttering a soft thanks under your breath as you enter.

You felt warmth immediately welcome you in this cafe; it was homey; it was particularly small, with open space and windows at the front of the cafe, with a table right by the window. It had a light brown interior with darker brown accents, with paintings and pictures adorning the walls. This and the green plants and flowers that were all over the corners and counters. It was, honestly, a very pretty and nice establishment for one so small.

“This is really pretty gojo; where do we sit?”

“We can sit by the windows; it's a nice view outside, so I think it’ll be nice.” You hum in agreement as you make your way to the table by the windows and place your things down. “Should we go order now?”

"Yeah, lets just look over the menu first before hand.” As you both looked up behind the workers counter to find the menu behind them, you were trying to figure out what to order before deciding to order a matcha latte and a chocolate croissant. You turned your attention towards Gojo to see if he was still contemplating what to order, only to find him thinking extra hard about his decision, finding it funny how the only time he pays decent attention is when it doesn’t regard any school work.

“You decided what to get yet?” You asked Gojo, "Uhhh… I think I might get some kikufuku and a hot chocolate; what about you?”

"Uh, I'm just going to get a chocolate croissant and a matcha latte.”

You both start heading towards the registers to order, with Gojo saying both of your orders. As the cashier starts to read out the cost, you reach into your pocket to grab your wallet, only for Gojo to beat you to it, paying for both of your orders. After the transaction, you both returned to the table to wait for your order to be called.

“Gojo, why’d you pay for both of us? I could’ve paid for my half.”

“It's fine; I mean, I was the one to offer to come here, so it is only a man’s obligation to pay.”

"Let me pay you back at least; I feel bad making you pay for my half." You frowned, feeling bad that he had paid for your order. "The way you can pay me back is for us to finish the project." He has that shit-eating grin on his face, the one he has on his face while poking fun at others. You grunt in response, reaching into your bag to take out your laptop to continue with your work.

"I was able to get some slides done from my part today, but you're gonna have to do a couple of the slides from your part.” As Gojo was about to speak, he got interrupted by the person calling our order.

“Order for Gojo!”

“I'll be right back.” Gojo grins at you. Your eyes follow his person as he walks up to the counter and gets your orders. You can clearly see the cashier trying to flirt with him, trying to make any advancements toward Gojo. You were glad you couldn’t make out what either of them was saying; you knew if you could, you’d get upset. Do you know why? Yeah, it was because you liked Gojo; it was clear now, and you hated it. It would have been stupid to get upset at a girl trying to flirt with him; I mean, you both weren’t even together. But you understood her; he was handsome, and she was also pretty. You were thinking that if you were as pretty as her, if you were that confident, maybe you’d have a chance with Gojo. caught up in your own thoughts that left a bad taste in your mouth, you didn’t realize Gojo was making his way back towards you. You were too busy being spaced out and caught up in your own thoughts, thoughts that you so very much hated.

“You good, y/n?” You were still spaced out, too focused on the worker behind the counter to realize Gojo. He cleared his throat; that was the thing that managed to catch your attention. "Huh?" You say, now staring at Gojo.

"I asked if you were okay; you were spaced out." "Oh, yeah, I'm okay. Did you get our order?" He nods at you while passing you your order as he places his down on the table by his seat. He takes his seat across from you and takes out his laptop as well, getting ready to "do" some work. (He won't do work.)

"We can probably finish a couple of more slides today, so we won't be behind on our work. We should probably do about two slides each? I think that would be good enough so we won't be behind." He hums in agreement, reaching for his hot chocolate to take a sip from.

"What even is this project about?" He says, taking another sip of his hot chocolate afterward. Your face goes blank at his idiocy; you honestly can't believe he got so far in high school. I mean, you were seriously doubting his abilities as of now.

"Are- Are you being serious?" You attempted to hold back your laugh at his simple idiotic actions, yet your attempt is in vain. You're now full-blown laughing, not even trying to hide how hysterical you find his stupidity.

"Oh my god— you're so hopeless!" You're holding your stomach in pain from your laughter; you can't even contain the tears from falling. Those tears of laughter basically taunt Gojo for his lack of intelligence. "What? It's not that funny." He huffs in an attempt to heal his bruised ego.

"Okay, I'll stop. I'm sorry, Gojo." You still had that grin on your face, although you were 'apologizing' for your actions. "We're just doing a group project about ideas for a new software application. Like doing research on our idea, putting down evidence on why this would be a good software idea, and explaining how it would help others. We have a doc that the teacher shared with us; did you not see it?" You ask, still having a grin plastered on your face from making fun of Gojo's lack of intelligence.

He scoffs, trying to play off the incident that just happened. "Yeah, of course I did; I was just seeing if you knew what we were doing." He attempted to gather whatever there was of his shattered ego, clearly and very painfully failing at this attempt as well.

"uh huh."

You grin at his antics, finding them quite funny—and quite endearing as well.

"Okay, well, we should get to work. Ask me if you have any questions or anything else. You have the shared in the gmail I sent you." You say, followed by you taking a bite out of your chocolate croissant, savoring the sweet taste of it. Gojo hums in agreement as quietness follows, both of you—well, at least you—in deep concentration on the work in front of you.

You didn't notice how much time had passed until you checked your phone; it was now 6:50, and it's gotten way darker than it was when you got to the cafe with Gojo.

You sighed as you ran your hands through your hair with a small "shit" muttered under your breath. Gojo caught your disturbance and looked at you through his tinted glasses. "What happened?" You hummed as you turned your attention to him. You nodded to the window, showing how dark it had gotten outside.

"I just noticed how late it is, and I gotta walk home too. I think I have to go home now before it gets darker." Gojo stands as he notices you standing as well, wrapping up your items and placing them into your bag. Going to throw away your finished drink and food before Gojo cuts you from your tracks.

"Let me walk you home; it's too dark for you to walk alone, y/n." You turned to face him, finding his eyes already on your figure. "You honestly don't have to; I'll feel bad enough for making you walk me home while you also paid for me."

"You're not making me walk home if I offered." He has that smirk on his face, the one he always has on. "You don't have to gojo, like, honestly." "Well, I want to, so let's get going; lead the way." You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder while grabbing your trash, as Gojo threw his a while ago. As you started making your way towards the door leading out, Gojo was there, holding the door open for you. Muttering a small thanks as you left the small establishment.

You started leading the way to your house; it was only about 10 minutes away from the school, so you started to head to your school and then to your house. Gojo is right next to you, him being the one that's closest to the road. As you reached the school, you realized you still had Gojo's sweater on, which he lent you on the way to the cafe. You felt a feeling crash over you, your cheeks growing a slight tint of color, although it was already flushed due to the cold—caught in your own silly thoughts of Gojo, all this because of a sweater he lent you. Just a kind action, nothing more, yet you can't help but be stuck in your own thoughts. You didn't realize Gojo caught onto your little actions—not your thoughts swooning over him, but your demeanor. Your reddened cheeks, being stuck in your own mind more and more often, and seemingly being in your own little world—in a kind and soft reverie.

His eyes were on you, hyperfocused on you and only you. Thinking you were some sort of angel only for him and nobody else, he knew that was false; you weren't his, but he wished you were. Time passed so fast with both of you stuck in a reverie of each other. You didn't even notice the fact you'd arrived at your home, only figuring you were there when you were right in front of your house.

You sighed as you saw the familiar figure of your home, signaling that you had no more time to spend with Gojo. Breaking the silence with you taking off his sweater and handing it to him.

"Thanks for walking me home, paying for my things at the cafe, and lending me your sweater, Gojo." A smile graced your lips as you recalled those events as you handed him his sweater back. Although they just happened today, you were already reminiscing about them. "Yeah, of course, y/n." You nod in his direction before remembering something.

"Text me when you get home, Gojo; make sure to be safe." He nods at your request before walking off to his house as you enter your own.

About 15 minutes later, you received a text from Gojo.

Gojo: i just got home rn

Gojo: i hope u enjoyed that cafe too

Grinning at his text was nice; although it was nothing special, it was nice knowing he remembered to text you when he got home.

y/n: i actually did enjoy that cafe a lot actually! it was nice, and again, thanks for paying for me

y/n: next time let me pay for both of us to make it up to u pls

Shit—you didn't mean to make that second text sound like that. Was that you coming off too hard? Does it make you sound desperate, wanting to have another study hall with him? Maybe he's going to find you strange for assuming there is going to be a next time? A thousand thoughts are racing through your mind at 100 miles per hour. You were getting anxious at what Gojo's reply was going to be; maybe he didn't see it like you're seeing it, and you're just overreacting.

Gojo: is this ur attempt at asking me on a date ;)

That fucking asshole, knowing him, this is a total him response.

y/n: fuck off bro, u wish i was

Gojo: yeah, i do wish u were asking me on a date.

Fuck. Is he being serious? Maybe you're just overanalyzing it; maybe he meant it as a joke, but that couldn't help your stomach erupt in butterflies. Suddenly, a confidence you didn't even know you had took over, deciding to play with this act of his cocky personality.

y/n: since im not asking you on a date, y dont u ask me on one instead?

Little did you know Gojo was going crazy behind his screen just like you; you felt like a teenage girl fawning over her first boyfriend. Gojo could be in the exact same predicament as well.

Gojo: hmmm, i guess ur right

Gojo: would u like to go on a date with me then, y/n?

You couldn't believe your eyes right now; things were happening way too fast. You couldn't even adjust yourself to how fast things were going. Well, technically, not fast, but seemingly fast enough for you to stress out.

y/n: sure then :)

y/n: lmk when and where?

Gojo: ill lyk then, y/n

You honestly couldn't believe your very own eyes. This felt as if it wasn't real, as if it was just one of your dreams where you got the boyfriend of your dreams.

December 16th

It was already December 16th, and you and Gojo had already finished your project. It was surprising, but you both started spending more and more time together after that study hall you had together. Today was also the date Gojo had planned; you were going to Gojo's house and watching shows, baking, and just spending time together. It was nothing big, but it didn't matter to you; as long as you were with Gojo, it felt like it was the best day.

You were getting ready for him to pick you up in his car; it was surprising when you first saw it until you remembered that his family was well off money-wise. You just wore some casual clothes, not trying to make it seem you were trying too hard. You were in your room waiting for Gojo's text, signaling that he was outside, ready for you.

Gojo: im outside :)

y/n: omw

You bid farewell to your family, telling them you'd be back later on and that you were going over to a friend's house. Leaving the front door of your house, you found Gojo waiting right in front of your house by the passenger seat, ready to open the door for you. As he saw you, he waved at you with a smile on his face.

"Thanks, Gojo," he said, smiling at him as he opened the door for you to take your seat in his car. He hums in response as he turns to go to the driver's seat. As the car sank with his added weight, he was making adjustments to the car's heater to make sure it was warm enough for the both of you.

A nice atmosphere filled the car as Surf by wave to earth was playing in the background, adding a calming sense to everything. It was a nice night out—cold, snowy, and calm. You hummed along to the lyrics, as this was one of your favorite songs by wave to earth. You remembered bringing it up to Gojo once; maybe that's why it's playing now. Maybe he remembered your favorite song and played it just for you.

As Gojo started to pull into the driveway of his house, he told you to wait in the car as he went to open the door. It was a cute action he took, always making sure to open doors for you—something you found endearing. As he opened the door, you thanked him for opening the car door for you.

"What do you wanna do first?" He asked, making his way to the front door with you following close behind him, making sure to walk carefully to avoid tripping on any of the ice. "Hmmm, wanna bake first?" you said, tilting your head at him, although he couldn't see you since his back was facing you. He hummed in agreement.

He went to the front door, taking out his keys quickly and opening the door, waiting for you to walk in first before he entered. Locking the door behind him and placing his keys on the small table by the door. Taking off his shoes as you followed suit and placing them on the shoe rack. You followed him as he showed you where the kitchen was.

"Do we even know what we're gonna bake?" smiling softly at the total clueless actions of the both of you, both of you getting too far ahead of the details in the excitement of today. "Oh, you're right." He deadpans, realizing his flaw in this plan.

"Uh, we can make brownies? I think I have a brownie mix around here somewhere." Scratching his head as he tries to remember where he last placed the brownie mix when he decided to make something sweet to tame his sweet tooth, only for him to figure out he was too lazy to make it for himself; he found this as the perfect opportunity to make it.

“Found it!” He exclaimed as his hand held the box of brownie mix. You smiled at his goofy antics—just anything he does you find cute. “What do the instructions say?” You asked Gojo as you rolled your sleeves up. "Uh, it's asking to preheat the oven to 350." He said, squinting at the instructions on the back while you hummed with his answer, you went to preheat the oven as he placed the mix down.

"What pan do we use?" You were asking as you started pressing buttons on the oven. "We can use this glass one." He said this as he was searching the cabinets for a good-sized container. Humming in agreement, you put the pan beside the oven. You went to grab the mix to read the next instruction. "We need two eggs, 1/4 cup of water, and… a half of oil. Could you grab me that?" He hummed as he went to the refrigerator to grab the eggs. Once he grabbed them, he placed them at the counter. He then grabbed the measuring cup, oil, and water and placed them beside the eggs.

"what's next?" He says this, looking over your shoulder, his breath hitting your ear. "We mix all the things together with the mix." Gojo hums going to grab a decent-sized bowl so everything can fit. Once he found one, he went back to you and placed it on the counter between you both.

"You get the eggs, and I'll measure out the oil and water." You said this as you started to pour the mix into the bowl. He began cracking the eggs on the counter and opening it above the bowl. The only thing he was doing wrong was getting a bunch of eggshells in the bowl. You caught him trying to take them out of your peripheral vision, so you turned your attention on him.

"Gojo, how did you manage to fail the most simple task?" A small smile was evident on your face, growing by the second into a full-blown smile, taunting him. "It's not my fault! The egg was being stubborn." He huffs, trying to convince himself more than you that the egg was why this happened. You sort of forgot Gojo was well off; that's probably why he's not that used to cooking for himself. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you big baby," you giggle at how he looks—as if he's trying to murder that egg for not "cooperating" with him.

After that, things went sort of smoothly. You guys put oil on the glass pan before spreading the brownie mix on the pan. As he was pouring the brownie mix into the pan, you were just watching him; he looked the most focused doing this. As if this is some really important life-or-death action—his tongue slightly sticking out, a habit you've seen him do more than once when he's deep in concentration. His brows were slightly furrowed, creating creases on his forehead between his brows, and his eyes were narrow and deep in concentration on the task at hand. Although he was doing the most basic task known to man, you thought he looked quite celestial to you, as if the gods had bestowed him on you and only you to view. As if he were an important painting made out of gold hanging in an art museum, only meant for your eyes to see and enjoy.

He noticed your quietness when he finished trying to spread the mix evenly. He thought maybe something was wrong, so he turned to glance at you. Only for him to find you staring deeply into his features as if he were food a starving man has been absent from. The thought of you being so caught in your own thoughts about him made him feel warm and flushed. His checks, proving this as a pink dusted his pale checks, adding some warmth to his features. He then turned back to the container of brownie mix he had long forgotten about when he caught you staring. He cleared his throat to try to calm down the sudden butterflies he felt just then.

This also seemed to snap you out of your thoughts as you turned your attention to the pan filled with brownie mix. As if on queue, the oven beeped to signal that it was done preheating and was ready for the dish.

"Are you done with the brownies?" tilting your head as you waited for his response. He let out a small "mhm" as if he didn't trust his own words right now. You went to grab the pan in front of him and placed it in the oven. You went back to your place next to him as you looked for your phone to place a 35-minute timer.

As you were going to grab your phone from its place on the counter, you dropped it onto the floor. You muttered a small fuck under your breath, wishing and praying it didn't leave any new cracks on your phone. As you went to bend down to grab it, you didn't notice how Gojo placed his hand on the counter corner to prevent you from hurting yourself on it.

"Ima set a timer for 35 minutes; you wanna watch a movie meanwhile?" Your phone is now in your hand as you stod up, looking for the timer app on your phone to set the timer on. "Sure, what type of movie?" He made his way to the living room as you followed him while setting the timer.

"Hm—how 'bout a Disney movie? You pick the movie, though." Gojo laughs at how you recommended a Disney movie. Sure, there's nothing wrong with that, but he expected you to say something like a horror movie; a Disney movie seemed out of character for you.

As you both sat down next to each other on the couch, Gojo started to scroll through the Disney+ account he had, looking through some options before he stopped at one. He picked Frozen to watch, and you weren't really surprised. You thought he gravitated to that movie because maybe he and Elsa were related; maybe they were both long-lost twin siblings.

As he clicked on the movie, he started to get himself comfortable on the couch; he seemingly fused with the couch. As the first couple of minutes started playing, you couldn't help but feel your eyelids get heavy and droopy. You felt yourself slip more and more into slumber, so you just laid your head on Gojo's shoulder to get more comfortable. You didn't think anything of it, but Gojo's mind was on fire right now, man. If you could look at him right now, his face was full of a flushed look just because of this small action.

Your breath started to slow down, your breaths becoming shallow, and Gojo realized you had given into your sleep. Gojo decided to get himself in a position where you wouldn't wake up with a sore neck and wouldn't be uncomfortable in your nap. Soft snores left your parted lips now, although you would've hated Gojo knowing you snore in your sleep. Gojo still can't help but find this cute and endearing. He felt almost proud? Proud in the sense that you felt comfortable enough around him to let your guard down and let yourself sleep on him.

A third of the movie passed when your alarm finally rang; you weren't awakened by it, though. Gojo reached for your phone and shut off your alarm as he slowly laid you down on the couch as he went to the kitchen to take the brownies from the oven. Once he came back from the kitchen, he found you sitting up, stretching your limbs as you yawned, rubbing your eyes after you were done with your quick stretch.

"How long was I asleep?" Your voice came out groggy with a light rasp to it, and your hair from the side you were lying on was slightly messy compared to the other side. "Like 30 minutes, I think? Maybe slightly less, but you knocked out after a bit of the movie." Gojo said as he made his way to you, sitting next to you.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Gojo." You yawned again, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. "Your fine, y/n. Are you still sleepy?" Gojo had a lopsided grin, and you clearly looked half awake. You hummed, and you scratched your neck. It seemed as if you just woke up from the best nap you've ever taken. Maybe it was the best nap you took. Maybe it was because Gojo was here with you.

"You wanna take another nap in my room? It'll be more comfortable for you."

"You sure? I don't want to intrude much."

"Why would I ask if I didn't mean it?" He chuckles. You always seemed to ask if he was sure about things he was clearly sure about. He stood up, waiting for you to follow him to his room on the second floor of his house. As you followed him close behind as he made his way up the stairs, once you reached his room, he opened the door for you. It was decorated with a light gray wash on the walls, wooden furniture adorning the walls for storage, and different-sized posters and paintings covering the walls. His room wasn't messy, but there were a couple of clothes piles on his floor. You felt as if his room was a great match for him and his personality, as if it suited him perfectly.

As you made your way to his bed, you shoved your face into his cold pillow, finding it comfortable and refreshing. "Hey y/n?" You hummed as you turned your head to face him. "Yeah?" "You wanna stay over?" You seemed stunned; you didn't really expect him to ask you that; you wouldn't mind staying over with Gojo.

"Actually?" "Of course, why would I ask you if I didn't mean it?" he smiles.

"Sure, I'll stay over, but I'm just going to let my family know." You reached into your pocket to find your phone to text your mom that you were going to stay the night at your friend's house. "Thanks for letting me stay over; your bed is way more comfortable than mine. I don't wanna let this opportunity slip by." Your voice coming out muffled due to your face being stuffed into his pillow again. You already claimed his bed even though it wasn't even yours. I mean, he was okay with it, of course; he's okay with anything if you ask.

"So you just decided to claim my bed?" "Hell yeah, this shit is way too comfortable to pass on, man." He grunts in reply, scooting you to the side as he lies next to you now. "What are you doing?" Your face is finally out of the pillow, and you are now looking at his face, which was staring at yours. "Well, this is my bed, is it not? I'm not gonna sleep on that floor, so you better make space on MY bed." You roll your eyes as your face goes back to laying on the pillow.

A few minutes go by before you start to slightly snore, your face facing Gojo. He felt like a creep; he was just staring at your sleeping figure, admiring you. Sure, it might seem creepy, but it wasn't intended to be creepy. He looked at your slightly parted lips, hair falling from behind your ear, how your chest went up and down with your breaths, and how you'd move slightly to get more comfortable every so often. He didn't even notice him dozing off into slumber as well, he was too focused thinking of you. You were on his mind as he was awake and now as he drifted to sleep.

It was now the next morning and gojo was the first to wake up. He woke up with you in his arms, he wondered if you noticed this too. He felt flustered as if he was just a prepubescent boy who just got their first girlfriend. He slowly removed his arms from your figure as he went downstairs to figure out what to make you and him for breakfast.

He knew he couldn't trust his cooking skills so he resulted to just order food for the both of you. He ordered you and him breakfast from some nearby fast food restaurant with a good breakfast. As he waited for the food to get here, you started to make your way down the stairs.

"Gojo?" Your voice comes out groggy and raspy. "I'm over here," Gojo says, his voice coming out loud so you can know where he is. You followed where his voice came from, finding him in the living room sitting down on one of the couches scrolling on his phone. He looked up from his phone taking in your barely awake appearance. "How did you sleep?" He asks, well based on your appearance you slept pretty well. "Hella good dude, your beds fucking comfortable." Yawning as you made your place next to him.

"By the way, I ordered some breakfast for the both of us," He tells you since he assumed that maybe you were hungry. "Really? Thanks, where did you order from?"

"I ordered from Dunkin', is that okay?" He hears an audible gasp from you. "Hell yeah, dunkin' breakfast is my favorite man." You had a grin on your face, clearly enjoying that he bought you food.

"What did you order?"

"I got you a sourdough sandwich and a matcha latte, is that okay?" That grin on your face only growing more, he assumed maybe because you liked the food he got you. "Oh my god, you're the best person to exist right now, that's literally what I always get." He laughs at this, glad he got you something you liked.

"I think the food should be getting here in like, 3 minutes?" Those 3 minutes went by fast as now you both were sitting in the kitchen enjoying your food. You looked as if you were starving by the way you were eating your sandwich, although you might've found it embarrassing how you were eating right now— he thought the opposite, he thought you looked quite cute.

As you both were finishing up your food and drinks, you thanked gojo for buying your food and persisted in paying him back. He, of course, denied your pleas. You sighed and gave up on begging him to let you pay him back.

You two were now relaxing in the living room, watching some random show on the television yet you two weren't really invested in it. You were both just having a conversation about anything and anything coming to mind. Amidst your conversation, Gojo brought up how you can just call him his first name, you agreed with this as you found it more fitting now. The room fills with both of your voices with occasional laughter erupting from both of you. Both of you clearly enjoyed each other's presence, whether it was quite or loud, you just enjoyed spending time with each other. As it became quite, you realized you should probably go home now. Sighing in realization you broke the silence.

"Hey Satoru, I think I have to head home now." You frowned slightly, not wanting to go home as you were spending quality time with him. Gojo hums in acknowledgment, feeling upset that he can't spend more time with you. Yet, he doesn't ignore the way his first name rolls off your tongue, as if his name was made for you to say. "Let me drop you off, y/n." You hum, knowing that if you protest, Gojo will ignore you. As you went to collect your things and put your shoes on, Gojo went to the garage to heat his car up. Once you were ready, you made your way outside to where Gojo was waiting for you.

He, of course, opened the door for you to enter his car. You told him your address as you were connecting to the speaker, which he told you to connect to. You decided to play Pyramids by Frank Ocean, a song you enjoyed and you were in the mood to listen to it. You were singing along to the lyrics as Gojo was too. You two were having fun, just singing together and talking when you weren't singing.

You finally arrived at your house when you thanked him and bid farewells to him, reminding him to text you once he got back home. You weren't sure how much time passed by when you got a text from Gojo telling you he was safe and sound at his place now. You were spending your time now sending texts back and forth to each other, texting turned into a call. Hours went by as you two were talking and laughing playing Roblox, making fun of some random kid, and praying your account wouldn't get banned the next day.

It was somehow night now, you both were still on call. You two didn't even realize how much time passed. You both basically spent the day with each other. Now here you are dozing off on the call together. It was cheesy, but it was cute. You liked spending this much time with him and so did he, he enjoyed spending this much time with you— he wished he could spend as much time with you as possible.

December 22nd.

It's been 6 days since your little date with Gojo. 6 days where you and him have gotten closer— his and your friends even noticing this. Teasing you both whenever they saw you together, which was most of the time. You both were basically inseparable, spending each available minute together. You spent so much time with each other that others thought you were already dating. Yet you weren't, yet.

You were now at Gojo's place once again in his room, lying in his bed as he was at his desk working on some homework he had for one of his classes. You were just scrolling on your phone trying to find something to do to cure your boredom. This was until Gojo started to spark a conversation with you. It was till the end of the conversation that Gojo finally found the confidence to ask you something.

"Hey y/n?"

"Yeah"

"I've been wanting to ask this for god knows how long because I'm so infatuated by you and everything about you. You make it impossible for me not to swoon over you, I've liked you for god knows how long, even before we started talking. You were just my hallway crush or something, but now, I want you to be something more. I just wanted to ask, I'm sure you got the gist of it but, could I be your boyfriend?" He's now sweating so much, you didn't even know it. He was flushed from head to toe, his palms were clammy, and he was on the brink of breaking due to his nerves.

While you, you were flustered. You knew that maybe eventually you'd end up dating, but you were still caught off guard. Who knew that your long-time crush was here confessing his undying love for you.

"Of course, Satoru. I've liked you too for god knows how much time, I was just scared to act on it. Although you were insufferable most times, that could never stop me from fawning over you at any given moment." You both now had a large grin on each other's faces, glad and released that you could get it out.

As of now, you both were on his bed enjoying each other's warmth and embrace. Talking to each other about anything that sprang to mind, you both were now in bliss realizing that you were both finally together. That you were finally his and he was finally yours, a thought that was always running through each other's mind.

December 31st.

You found it funny how just in a month, you got together. Well, of course, you talked before. But this month, it was more than before, you were constantly together. If not you were on calls, but on the rare occasion when either of you couldn't call— you'd be texting each other constantly. Spending each available minute together, something either of you wouldn't give up.

You two were now strolling around in the city, entering shops when you found something interesting that Gojo insisted on buying you. Hand in hand, gojo carrying the bags of clothes, trinkets, and items he bought you just because you spent a second too long looking at them.

You found it nice how the project was due at the end of the month, exactly tomorrow. Yet that project wasn’t the only thing that was progressing, it was also your and Gojo's relationship that went along as the days.

Now you were thinking that maybe that these cold winters weren't going to be as bad. Now you had someone to share it with, to be cold with, and to be warm with, you could be like those couples you were always envious and yearned for.

Maybe these cold winters will be enjoyable now.

masterlist.

Stomach Bulge- Gojo Satoru x Reader

WC: 1,145 (?)

TW: I’m bad at this but NSFW, size difference (?), kinda sub! gojo, kinda public, lmk what to add or take away!!

"Hey Satoru?"

"Yeah?"

"Wanna have sex?"

"H-HUH?! [Y/N] we're in public!" He nearly shouts, turning a bright red at your straightforwardness.

Currently you're at a local bar with your colleague Satoru Gojo. The two of you are definitely tipsy, hence the straightforwardness.

"You didn't answer the question Satoru~" You playfully wink at him. He just stares at you stunned, like this is some kind of trap and if he says yeah you'll yell at him.

"It's not a trap I promise." You say giggling. He squints his eyes at you still trying to figure out if you're being serious. You just grab his arm and pull him in for a deep kiss, instantly swirling your tongue around his.

Gojo turns bright red from your actions but goes with it anyways, allowing you to take control of the situation.

"So do you want to have sex?" You whisper in his ear with a seductive tone. He just nods at you, hypnotized by your actions. Wasting no time you grab his hand and lead him to your car.

You're just a little tipsy, not drunk enough to not be able to drive. You drive your car to a parking lot nearby that's nearly deserted with only a few other cars parked, far away from your own.

"What're we doing here?" He asks with a certain innocence to his voice that makes you chuckle.

"Do you prefer the back seat or the front seat?" He just stares at you confused, for what? Before it finally hits him, sex, duh.

"O-Oh I don't mind either." He says embarrassed. You just laugh at his awkwardness and undo your seatbelt, sitting up and straddling his lap.

This time when you initiate the kiss it isn't as forceful, it's slow and gentle. His lips are soft and plump, and he tasted like beer but not the bitter kind, the kind that's severely sweetened.

"God what did you drink earlier you taste so sweet." You say, sticking your tongue out in disgust. He just smiles at you and pulls you back in for another kiss, this time more heated.

The kiss quickly turns desperate as he slides his slender hands up your shirt, feeling your warm skin. Your hands reach up and tangle with his silky white locks. You kick the lever on the side of the chair causing the seat to fly backwards, giving the two of you more room.

"Fuck more please more." You whine out. The two of you had been kissing to long, you needed more of him asap.

The two of you begin dry humping/grinding on each other. Trying to cause any and all friction on both of your lower areas.

By now Gojo has completely removed your shirt, throwing it to the side. Moving away from your mouth he slowly trails down your neck, leaving wet open mouthed kisses. Occasionally sucking on one area a little longer than the rest, leaving small hickeys.

While he's focused on your neck you take this opportunity to remove his shirt, feeling up and down his toned body. Occasionally brushing across his nipples, earning a breathy groan.

When he's finally content with the amount of hickeys he left on your neck he swiftly undoes your bra, throwing it to the side. You try to hold back a blush but you feel so exposed in front of the blue eyes in front of you, like he's literally seeing through your entire being.

"You're so pretty [Y/N]." He mumbles in a daze, slowly he starts fondling your breasts, licking and nipping at them occasionally causing you the moan.

All you can do is grind down against his clothed dick and try to find some relief for the warm pool in your abdomen.

"Satoru please, please fuck me already." You moan out, getting sick of his slow sensual pace.

"So needy." He chuckles, pulling away from your chest and undoing his belt. You do the same, making quick work of your jeans, leaving you in just your panties and him in just his boxers.

The two of you grind against each other through the thin material, your panties soaking wet, and his boxers leaking with pre-cum. Your forehead falls against his, the two of you panting like dogs in heat, unable to put thoughts together, too focused on each other's warmth.

Getting sick of dry humping Gojo slides his hands down your curves until he reaches your thighs. Slowly he slides his slim fingers down your thighs, getting closer and closer to where you needed him most.

"Can I take these off?" He asked pulling on your panties. You just nod unable to form a coherent sentence.

Slowly he slides them off, trying to avoid ripping the fabric. You pull on the hem of his boxers, signaling for him to take them off as well. He complies leaving the two of you fully naked on one another.

When he removes his boxers his dick springs free, and honestly surprises you a little. You didn't think they could be that big, but you're the adventurous type, you could handle it...right?

Gojo slowly traces up and down your folds, teasingly. He watches your every expression, watching carefully to see how you react to every small movement.

"Fuck just do it." You huff out grinding against his finger, your pussy is begging to be filled and he's taking way too long.

He happily complies, slowly sinking one finger into you. You instantly become a moaning mess as you practically ride his finger, trying to get it to hit deeper and deeper.

He slowly removes his finger causing a whine of disapproval to escape your lips. You look down at the man your straddling with hooded eyes. He looks just as hot and bothered as you do. His dick looks painfully hard, throbbing and red, wanting to fill you up.

"You r-ready?" He huffs, lining himself up but not entering. He teases your entrance, sliding up and down your folds earning an impatient moan from you. Even in a scenario like this he still finds a way to tease you.

Feeling impatient from his teasing you decided to take matters into your own hands. You wrap your hand around his dick, lining it up yourself and plunging down on his dick. He released a whiny high pitched moan from surprise.

"F-Fuck you're s-so big Satoru." You cling onto him trying to adjust to his length. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you steady as he tries to catch his breath.

"Can I m-move?" He says barely over a whisper, you just nod into the crook of his neck. He starts off slowly, pumping in and out of you.

The two of you are both a mess. Drooling and moaning all over each other, enjoying every minute of each others company.

"F-Faster please." You mumble into his neck and he just nods, picking up the pace. He's practically abusing your pussy, merciless pounding up into you. You peel yourself off of his skin and hold onto his shoulders.

You lean in and take him into a sloppy kiss, it was more of the two of you sucking on each others tongues than kissing. He pulls away to catch his breath.

"[Y-Y/N] look." He huffs out grabbing your hand off of his shoulder. He leads your hand down to your stomach where you can feel his dick slightly bulge out with every harsh thrust. You become a blushing mess, he's practically rearranging your organs right now and you're enjoying every minute of it.

"I'm so close." He whines as you squeeze on him. Your hand slides down from your stomach to your pussy, abusing your clit to catch up to his climax.

"Fuck, Satoru I'm almost there." The two of you lean into a sloppy moaning kiss as he harshly thrusts up and into your swollen hole.

Finally he pulls out of you and cums onto his stomach, thick white liquid comes rushing out, he's barely keeping it together, a mix of whines and moans escape his plump lips.

You grab his arm and grind against his fingers and you rub your aching clit, chasing your own orgasm. It arrives like a wave, washing over you, and you release all over him.

You collapse against his chest, trying to catch your breath after some of the best sex you've ever had. He slowly wraps his arms around you, squeezing you gently.

"That was amazing [Y/N]." He says, panting. You just nod into the crook of his neck.

"Yeah, yeah it was."

Arcade- (Highschool) Satoru Gojo

WC: 1.1k (?)

TW: none! fluff :p, not proof read sorry

"Aweeeee come on [Y/N], please give me one chance?" Gojo whined while giving you his self proclaimed ‘irresistible’ puppy eyes.

You were about to start a mission with your fellow first years, Nanami Kento, and Yu Haibara when the three of you were ambushed by your upperclassman, Suguru Geto, Shoko Ieiri, and of course the infamous Satoru Gojo.

"Will you get off the poor girls back already Satoru?" said Geto, trying to save your poor soul.

Chuckling you began, "You know Satoru you shouldn't be dragging your classmates around with you, I'm sure you guys could be doing something much more interesting with your time than harassing your lower-classman."

"HARASSING? What ever do you mean? I'm truly hurt by these allegations [Y/N]. Also 'Satoru'? I didn't know we were already on a first name basis [Y/N]." He says with a wink that you could barely make out.

Slightly annoyed you responded "You always call me by my given name so I thought I could do the same. Would you prefer me calling you Gojo?" To really try and pull on his heart strings you added a small pout.

After seeing your cute expression a small blush crept over his cheeks. Suddenly embarrassed he quickly responded "You can call me whatever you want! I don't mind!" 

"Hmm... well we'll be on our way then Satoru~"

The way his name rolled off your tongue stunned him. He was unable to move, he felt his heart swell rapidly. "Adorable" he thought to himself.

[Later that week]

The mission had been a success! You along with your fellow first years decided to take a well deserved break. You and Haibara decided on hanging out at a local arcade, dragging Nanami with you guys...(perhaps by force.)

Arriving at the arcade you all gawked at the wide variety of games available. You and Haibara decided to have a competition on who could obtain the most tickets. Despite being annoyed Nanami decided to go along with the immature antics of his two classmates.

Walking over to the first game that caught your eye something (or someone?) grabbed your wrist and yanked you into a photo booth. Your confusion quickly dissipated when you realized it was Gojo.

"Huh, Satoru? When did you get here? Did you follow us?" You asked surprised to see him.

Frustrated Gojo put his hand to your mouth, shushing you. "Tooooo manyyy questionssss" He replied with his usual sassy attitude.

You smiled softly at his sass. For a moment Gojo thought cupid had just shot right through his heart. Just your smile was enough to get him flustered.

"You could at least answer some of my questions Satoru." You say pulling his hand away from your mouth.

PANG

An arrow of love was shot through his heart, you were just to cute to handle. Your little "please" almost pushed him over the edge. "So cute" he thought to himself with a slight blush.

"Well I finished up my mission early and wanted to come see you, so I asked the manager where you had wandered off to." (Basically whoever held Ijichi's job back then) He stated confidently.

"Ohhhh, did you miss me that much?" You smiled cheekily, leaning in close to his face.

"Ah, [Y/N] don't tease me" Gojo said clutching his heart, faking a 'pained' expression.

Laughing you quickly responded "Help me win lots of tickets, then maybe I'll consider this a date."

Gojos eyes lit up and he almost pounced out of his seat before remembering where you two were. "Let's take a picture first though, for memories?" He asked sheepishly, you nodded and grabbed some coins out of your pocket to insert.

You two posed in different positions for each picture.

[1. Peace signs]

[2. Heart hands]

[3. You kissing his cheek]

[4. Gojo covering his blushing face with his hands and you just smiling at the camera]

After many hours of hard ticket earning you and Gojo far surpassed both Nanami and Haibara. Of course Haibara kept insisting that you didn't 'win' because you clearly 'cheated.' The two of you denied these allegations.

After collecting your prizes you decided that it was time to head home and knock out.

Of course Gojo insisted on walking you to the dorms while the other two first years were still trying to decide on prizes. (He more like begged to walk you home...)

On the walk home you two shared simple conversation and a few laughs. All of a sudden Gojo jumped up, grabbed your hand, and began sprinting. "Hey wait up, what's gotten into you??" You said, barely being able to keep up with his long legs.

Quickly he fell back onto the grass and yanked you down with him pointing at the sky. The millions of stars shown through the dark night sky. You looked up, hypnotized by the beauty. Until suddenly you began laughing.

"Huh?? Why're you laughing, have you lost your mind?" Gojo asked looking at you confused.

"No, no, it's just...ah never mind." You wave your hand in a dismissive way.

"Hey! Tell me." He insisted with an adorable pout.

"The sky, well more specifically the stars, they kinda look like your eyes." You said pointing at the sky, barely holding back a laugh.

The sentence wasn't much but it caught him off guard and he quickly sat up covering his face. "[Y/N] you say the most embarrassing things." You just smiled at his blushing face.

You stood up and offered him your hand, he of course took it happily. Staring at his eyes you slowly cupped his cheek. Gojo felt his heart begin to race, all he could do was hang onto your arms and let you continue with your actions, he was completely at your mercy. You both leaned in, slowly closing your eyes.

"Just kidding!" You said pulling back with a cheeky smile, removing your hands and stepping away.

Gojo gawked at you, completely shocked by your actions. "You're so cruel [Y/N]."

"It's gonna take more than that to win my heart Satoru, are you willing to go the extra mile?" You asked him sincerely.

"Anything for you [Y/N]." Gojo smiled softly.

"Okay then, I look forward to it! Let's go back to the dorms before they lock us out." You say smiling cheekily and skipping away.

———————————————————————

[Little Bonus]

Rolling out of bed Gojo looked over at your sleeping figure and smiled softly. He was completely entranced by your beauty. He was so lucky to have you in his life.

Stretching he slowly stood up walking towards the bathroom. Suddenly he stopped short looking down at your desk. Pinned to the the hanging bulletin board was the photo booth photos the two of you had taken so long ago. Gojo chuckled thinking back to how you heartlessly swerved him.

"How different things are now..." He smiled warmly while looking back at your sleeping figure.

i would like to clear the record from my previous report i am not ONLY a choso lover i am a JJK MAN (AND FEMALE) LOVER

seriously they had no fucking right to create so many drool worthy characters in one fucking series 🫶🏻

❝ HELL ON HEELS . . ! ❞

ᡴꪫ sum. it's your third day on the job as a flight attendant. you work around a lot of snobby rich elites, but a particular one catches your eye. a particular one who tips you $300 dollars in cash and wants way more than just your uninvited attention.

wc. 6.5k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, this is how gojo and reader meet, mile high club trope, flight attendant reader, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), semi public sēx, praise kink, degradation, dry humping, squırting, spanking, edging.

an. thank u to everyone who voted for this on the poll <3

the low-pitched whirring of the plane’s engine was quite loud. white noise could be heard through first class as you walked alongside the aisle. with a heavy sigh, you’d just wish the day would be over. the overall duration of the flight was about a good two hours, not too bad but you were already over it. dealing with haughty a-list celebrities or elites as a whole wasn’t for the weak. a majority of them were rude, snobby, and just stuck up individuals. except for one . .

as thick pieces of rubber stick against your heels and clank against the carbon fibre floor, you sashay through and from the rows before a cheeky voice calls over to you. “excuseee me, miss ‘ttendant,” and you crane your neck to where it was coming from. sat right by the window near the left— draped in nothing but a sable-black tuxedo with a pricey g-shock wrapping around his wrist, he simpers. “do you ahh, mind if you . . ?”

“huh,” you quirk your eyebrows into a brow before he nods his head up toward the cabin compartment above all of the seats. “oh,” you give him a soft smile. he takes a quick glance at your name tag that’s glued on the left side of your blazer. you lean over against him, reaching towards the latch to pull it down. the more you get close to him, the more you smell his cologne. it’s so strong, you were sure it was some kind of expensive designer brand. a small grunt leaves your lips as you stretch before just when you’re about to pry open the cabinet, the plane grumbles with a rude shake. a rude shake in which you fall—right onto the older man’s lap who’s got the smuggest grin.

“we’re experiencing a bit of turbulence up here, sincerest apologizes passengers..”

the pilot mutters through the intercom— it’s blaring through the speakers. he talks for about seven seconds, as well as reminding for everyone to have their seatbelts on at all times before he stops.

as if things couldn’t have been anymore embarrassing, your face lands right into his crotch. “oh my god—i’m so sorry sir,” you try to atone, sitting up and as you’re up so close to him, you take a moment to actually get a good glimpse at the man.

he was pretty, simply no denying it. you knew him from anywhere. gojo satoru, the gojo satoru. the snowy white hair was a dead giveaway.

he was more of a well known business man—a ceo of some hot shot company. he had his own clothing brand, does lots of men photoshoots, and even modeled a bit in his early twenties. although, the more you gawk at him, the more it seems like he barely even aged. gojo looks like he was still in his twenties, he had a bit of a stubble but was quite really well shaved. azul-blue eyes return the stare right back at you as you take in his prepossessing features for just a bit longer.

god, he was handsome.

gojo’s hair was neatly neat, a simple slick back of a sort with a few strands of white hair running down his face. he brings a wrist up to his face to rub his mouth before covertly humming. “. . oh, am i that good lookin’, princess?”

you gulp once he catches you staring, and then it hits you again,

you were still dumbly laid on his lap as he’s gazing into your eyes with the most complacent grin. “i-i’m sorry,” you mumble, cringing at your own stutter. thankfully, it was probably about four am, it was a private jet and only a few other passengers scattered around the sectioned row. sitting up, you rub your neck sheepishly before sighing. “i . . don’t usually fall on passengers during on my shifts.”

“heh well i’d hope not,” he teases. “oh, and don’t worry about getting my luggage by the way,” and his eyes trail you down before he glances at your name tag again. “hm, i think i’d like to request something else though,” and the more you stare into his pretty cerulean eyes, the more you get lost in them.

his eyes were equivalent to a maze, you’re always getting lost in his pretty irises—never finding your way out. “you’re probably all sore from walkin’ around in those heels, how ‘bout you take a little break?”

and he was right. the entire lower parts of your calves were a bit sore, so you do. you take a break . . although,

your 'break' mainly consists of you being hunched over, propped up in front of gojo’s seat with him eating you out from behind like a starved man. your bottom lip feels all numb and puffed from chewing on it for so long. your lips part into an exaggerated ‘o’ as your head’s repeatedly being pressed against the back of the airplane seat in front of you. the softly made material rubs against your face and you moan. some older woman was snoring in the front of it, headphones plugged in both sides of her ears.

thank god, you prayed whatever heavy metal track she was listening to would distract her slumber from hearing your loud, whiny moans.

alas again, by ‘break’, you didn’t expect this but you weren’t exactly complaining either. with gojo’s tongue rummaging against your clit, it had you gasping for desperate various breaths. “s-sirrrr,” you whimper, a lewd smile pursing against your lips. two broad hands of his had your jade-colored business skirt pulled up all the way to the very hem of your torso— just about reaching near your now wrinkled blazer. as you sling an arm over the seat in front of you, you whine once his nose prods against your soddened entrance. “ngh, ‘m gettin’ close again i think. f-fuck, right there.”

“please, call me satoru, baby,” he whispers against your pussy. you shudder from the coldness of his breath aerating against your bare skin—you whine once his palm swats by your right ass cheek, giving it a mean spank. “ooh,” he coos from the recoil of your rear. so pretty, it was quite funny how things even escalated so quickly.

right before he was buried into the depths of your plush thighs, you were just chatting with him. gojo had a charm to him. he was a lot different from the other stuck up elites you occasionally dealt with. he was quite easy to talk to. you make it a habit to talk to each passenger, despite how snobby they might come across anyway.

with him though, he was a pure smooth talker.

gojo showered you with a plethora of compliments. it came natural, it didn’t seem forced—he’d point out your pretty eye color, your hair, just anything. with your job, you were used to getting a few compliments here and there—but he’d go all out, all out in a way where it makes your heart flutter and fly. you’re rutting your ass against his face, loving the way his wet tongue curls into a few alphabetic letters. he’s just filthy. each breath that escapes from your lips as if it was being held captive felt like it was gonna be its last.

“so . . fuckin’ sweet,” he purrs, dragging a thumb down your slit for a moment. gojo takes a second to admire the way you easily soak in his digit, such a breathtaking sight inside. lewd, but breathtaking. “mhm, look at her givin’ me a little show. move your ass against my face a little more, sweetheart. yeah, fuck.”

your heart does jumping jacks at his dialogue. his voice was deep, rich—and seductive.

the silvery band of his watch continues to skim all across your skin as your hips judder. you shiver, feeling yourself about to reach your inevitable orgasmic peak before you moan out loud. you tried to suppress your noises, you did—but it was no use. you’re already biting at your hardened knuckles but oh, his tongue.

every few seconds, he’d break away to spit and slobber on your pussy. his nose consistently smears all against your folds, getting you ten times more wetter than you already were. he’s nasty, making sure you keep that arch for him. your skirt was pulled up and all wrinkled. the teeth-shattering stimulation makes you feel nerves surge all throughout your body like galvanic electricity.

“s- satoruuu.” you’d huff out in tiny pants, feeling your tummy cave in a few times. your sweet moan, its like a tune—a harmony, hell, it was melodic. he’d listen to you whine his name like that all day if he could. a gentle hand of his runs down your twitching leg, giving every part of your body from behind attention.

he was starting to get addicted, you were too sweet . . candied even, it was dangerous. he’s always had a bit of a sweet tooth anyways and perhaps you were his new favorite treat.

the raving pace of his tongue was simply relentless. you’re gripping onto the back of the seat for dear life, barely able to keep up with him.

ethereal ivory lashes of his open and close every millisecond that passes. it’s as if time was going slow for you— of course it was though, considering how you were thousands of feet in the air. you don’t know why, but the thought of someone just walking by and stumbling upon you all bent over for a passenger,

not just a passenger but the gojo satoru . .

you’d be lying a bit if you said it didn’t turn you on a bit. you knew it was against policy to screw on the job, in the air at that, but it was the middle of the night and partly everyone onboard was asleep anyway. having some affluent attractive guy right between your thighs, you were living the dream. you thought this only happened in the movies.

“aw, don’t give up on me just yet, pretty,” he soothes a tune against your cunt. after a while, gojo’s speedy flicking of his tongue transitioning to pure sucks. you’re shaking within the suction of his mouth. it’s almost too much to bare yet you didn’t want him to stop. he knows just the right tempo to make you roll your eyes back too. with prying hands, gojo’s spreading open your ass a bit more to lick a deeper area with his tongue. you zealously whine once he playfully uses a thumb to poke against your puckering hole. “mhm, yeah. thaaaat’s it, but don’t be so loud though, princess. i know we’re in the back row but still, heh.”

and with that— he gifts your ass another smack. he proudly relishes in your lewd, pornographic reactions. you’re an entire mess and he’s slurping your fervor shamelessly.

“s- satoruuuu, fuck f-fuck,” your breathing starts to significantly pick up. with your chest continuing to sink in and out, he briefly sneaks his dampened lips away from your entrance to bite near your thighs. the way you were shaking to him was just so cute. the white noise that continues to sing and reverb throughout the plane’s structure grew louder. or . . that was just the ringing through your ears—regardless, it was between that noise and the sounds of your own obscene pleasure that had a competition. a competition on who could be the most louder. your name-tag that’s still pressed against your blazer remains to rub off against the fabric of the seat in front of you.

your perked nipples snag in the process as you’re arching a bit more before a wail dies out your throat. “i- i’m gonna cu— oh!”

“another few hits of turbulence, folks. please stay in your seatbelts. time of arrival should be around six thirty am..”

you bring a hand over your mouth in a cute attempt to silence yourself as you’re meeting your high—listening to the pilot, you sob out a squeal from the inside of your palm. gojo’s slurping you up again with his tongue, your grinding against his face makes him chuckle. with his jaw tightening a bit, he doesn’t care—you were so sweet, he could eat you out all day. not to mention, he was quite thirsty. instead of having you retrieve one of his bags, he was gonna originally ask for a glass of water. but this quenched his thirst a lot better in his humblest opinion. his warm breath fans against your cunt all the while you feel his stubble tickle near the undersides of your thighs. “mmph.” you moan, peeking in front of you to still see the old lady knocked out cold. with the way you were rocking into the back of her seat— you were surprised she didn’t wake up. you were glad she didn’t though. otherwise, you’d embarrass yourself yet again.

with your orgasm still having its moment, you start to calm down a bit. he’s still slithering his tongue down your folds, savoring your taste as if it’s the last thing on the planet. his chin was coated with all of your slick, and he snickers before dragging a thumb to get another taste. “good girl. give it to me, ride my—ride my tongue, uh huhhh.”

a swarm of butterflies wanders around inside of your tummy from his words—his tone, it was so soft yet the dialogue that spoke out was just downright dirty. you pulse between your thighs and it only makes you crave him more.

as you’re still arched over in front of him, you take a few hard gulps to swallow as you’re finishing your perfect nirvana state. ecstasy, just ecstasy overtakes your entire body as he gives your pussy it’s final sucks and nibbles. once he finishes, he’s still sat in his chair. spinning you around, he gives you a warm smile.

“c’mere, sweetheart..”

out of breath and pants snatching out of your full lungs with ease—you move into him with your eyes half-lidded. “. . . atta girl, taste how sweet you are. gimme a kiss,” and you get on top of him. sliding off your heels, you get onto gojo’s lap. now straddling him, you lean into a steamy, hot kiss. two hefty built arms of his wrap around your waist, pulling you in close. once your lips meet, it’s just utterly sloppy.

throwing your arms around him and tugging on his tucked out collar, you deepen the kiss. he groans at your enthusiasm, allowing his hands to glide against every inch of your body. gojo’s fingertips dance against the pieces of clothing you wore, despite it being so few. your blazer was still on and yet couldn’t help but rock against his lap as your tongue parts inside of his mouth. gojo’s head leans back as you’re enjoying yourself. but all of a sudden, you moan once you feel it. 

his boner, right in the middle part of his pants. gojo satoru was hard—hard for you.

he grunts lowly, a hand of his snaking up your leg as you taste the sweet remnants of your own flavor on his tongue. the closer you are to him, the closer you get a nice everlasting sniff of his cologne. so manly, it’s a rich scent that you could never get enough of. it was so strong—roaming through the air so much that it almost gave you a headache. 

“fuck,” he sibilates. a single hissing word that comes from his mouth makes you throb oh so easily. you’re swaying your hips against him and his adam’s apple bobs back in rapture. every few seconds, he pulls away to leave a wet slope of kisses down your neck. a hand of yours tugs against his tie that was neatly worn on him. “damn girl you’re kinda kinky,” and he finally pulls away, teasingly biting on your bottom lip before finally departing. “i’m startin’ to like you.”

“more,” you murmur, leaning in to nip a wet kiss of your own near the crooked crevices of his mouth. naturally parted lips of his twitch, causing him to wryly smile back at you. “i need more, sir. we have a few more hours left. please.”

“baby, you can call me satoru. cut the formal shit yeah?” and his voice was a pitchy low, an almost rasp hidden underneath. a hand of his gently grabs your chin and you’re met with the most prettiest eyes. if it wasn’t his long lashes, it was his celestially blue eyes. so blue that it was as if you were star gazing at a summer sky. gojo satoru a pretty man, no doubt. he hums to himself in amusement at your cute doe-eyed expression, hungry for more. sitting on his boner was already torture enough, you just wanted him inside. 

sure, you were technically working but you didn’t care about that. “satoruuuu,” he’s being playful, a thumb still pulling down your bottom lip. as you’re both maintaining such intimate eye contact, his voice softens once more. gojo’s hand slides its way between your thighs before he raises a brow in a taunting manner. “what do you want satoru to do to you? tell me, girl.”

“t- touch me.” you almost whine out, it yanks out from your throat so pathetically. the throbbing you were feeling behind your panties only turned into straight convulses. 

playfully, he tilts his head with a smile. “yeah? touch ya where.”

“i gotta spell it out for you?” you pout, and he chuckles at your frustrated attitude. you start to jerk your hips against his lap and he holds your waist in place to bring those movements to a stop. “f-fuck, ‘s hard.”

stroking a thumb against your quivering lips, his minty breath hits against your nose—you smell it and it’s minty fresh. a scent of what seemed to be some kind of tangy beverage and a gum like substance. with a mocking tone, he presses a kiss against your nose before jibing. “i just wanna know where ‘m gonna put my hands on this pretty body. that’s all,” and his voice was so smooth, an almost purr. with a chortle, he moves a few strands of hair out of your view of sight before continuing his words. “now now, i’ll ask again, pretty. where do ya want me to touch you? let’s be descriptive this time.”

“between my t-thighs,” you confess, already soaked from him devouring your pussy just merely seconds ago. the shocking friction between both bodies had you feral, had you dizzy, had you stupid.

gojo gradually brings a hand down before you press a hand against his chest, pouting again. “actually, i want you to fuck me. please, satoru.”

“there we go, good girl. ‘n heh, aw i figured,” he cheeses, licking a single stripe up your neck. “mhm, you’ll have to ride me though. ‘s only so many positions you can do on a plane, heh.”

you barely let him finish your sentence before you start to unbuckle his pants. you’re so quick with it. gojo stares at the way you’re so desperate, taking it off the tiny hooks before yanking his belt all the way off. seconds later, you’re pulling down his pants toward his ankles. “ooh,” his eyes flicker towards your chest as you start to align yourself against his lap. you take a moment to stare at his now exposed cock and it was so pretty. lengthy if anything, a leaky mushroom like tip that was a bit reddened. he was so hard too, just gawking at his heavyset bulge that had you almost drooling. gojo leans back, rubbing against his thigh before flashing you a cheesy smile. “wellllll,” he sings. “don’t be shy girl. get on up here. ride all that stress away from work, pretty thing.”

he was so cocky, yet you were so needy. 

as you’re still aligning him, your damp entrance rubs off against the head of his tip. it’s peeling open a bit, the skin that attaches to the frenulum was just so mesmerizing to look at. it’s got a pinkish color, almost red. shortly following, a mere tannish color flushes on his cock near the base down. you moan once he grabs ahold of his length, helping you adjust. 

“easy . . easy baby, i gotcha,” he sighs, feeling your warmth slowly swallow him whole. those short seconds you spend taking in gojo’s dick feels like long, consecutive hours.

you’re dripping wet. as you straddle his lap, preparing to ride him, he slouches back in such a sexy way. manspread—gojo grunts out a single breath as his chest deflates. shifting his gaze towards your cunt, he spreads open your folds to get a better view. “ughhh, look at how she opens up for me. ‘s fuckin’ nasty,” he groans, staring dead at your cunt. you were indeed coating him with your slick from the base down. “give it to me, upside daisey, yeah.”

you’re taking his inches as the seconds go by before after a while—you plop down, feeling him bottom out already. gojo moans, gifting your ass with another spank. “f-fuck ‘toru,” you hiss, knowing that was a non-verbal sign for you to start up your hips. a cooling air that passes through the plane sets against your skin as you move. you whine, feeling his hands trickle alongside the secretive edges of your thighs. “touch me more, l- like that.”

“i don’t remember saying you could tell me what to do,” he meets your eyes as you start to thrust forward. he’s got the most impish grin stretching against his lips. gojo grips your chin for what was probably the nth time within this hour before he grins. “nuh uh, don’t look away. i wanna see those gorgeous eyes,” and he sneaks another wet kiss against your mouth. “ride it like you own it baby.”

you start off realllll slow, 

sashaying your hips up and down against his lap in the most alluring way. all six eyes were on you and only you..

your arms still wrap around him and he’s keeping eye contact with you the entire time. with your blazer practically ruffled and wrinkled, you continue to move yourself against him. gojo’s cock stretches you out in such a way you didn’t even know was possible. your walls craved him, you craved him.

as he leans further back, a hand’s still glued to your ass before he smacks it . . again.

he pats it afterwards, watching a cute sour expression slowly marinate against your facial features. 

gojo giggles at your cute noises, it doesn’t take long before you bury your face into the crook of his neck, gnawing your teeth against his collared shirt. “f-fuck, satoru,” you’d whine out, feeling his grip tighten against your ass. his cologne’s got your head spinning like a merri-go-round, giving you whiplash in all the right ways. “s-so big, stretchin’ me.”

“takin’ it so good, baby,” he licks against the lobe of your ear.  his breath against your neck was warm—not so cold anymore. two rough hands grasp onto your active hips, encouraging you to go more forward, more faster. “good girl, mhm, fuck me like that. use those hips for me, yeahh.”

his dick curves through every part of your walls as if it’s exploring. you feel him reach deep within every part and it’s driving you toward the first street of crazy.

breathy pants skate out from your lips as you’re swinging yourself back and forth against him. “s-satoru,” you whimper, feeling his hands continue to feel against the bare bottom parts of your ass. you could feel the bands of rings he wore rub off against your skin also, so fridgly cold. “f-fuck, ‘s good. mhm, fuck.”

“you’re so pretty,” he groans, the brief sounds of skin slapping resounding through your ears. it’s loud, almost sonorous.

his hair was getting a bit ruffled and unkempt, adding to his suave, mature features.

as he looks off into the nearly empty dim lit aisle, a silhouette appears—someone’s coming. it’s a familiar sound of heels hitting against the floor and you were too occupied of being horny to turn your head. at first, you barely even notice as you’re still grinding against his lap. “oh shit,” gojo gasps, grabbing the sides of your hips, suddenly bringing you to a stop. with a sly smile, he hums against your ear. “baby, don’t freak but i think your co-worker’s coming.”

“w- what?” you murmur, and he makes you spin around, still having his heavy cock hidden into the swollen depths of your cunt. glancing up, it was one of your co-workers coming. in a weak attempt to fix your nearly messed up blazer that was about to pop, you lean against his chest. “who— where?”

as he’s pressed right up against you, you’re met with a playful deep voice against your ear. “relax. act like you’re totally not cockwarming me, obviously,” and he runs a few fingers down your uniform, feeling you shift your hips a bit at his touch. gojo tries to make it look like you were just sitting on his lap, moving a cover over you and him from the waist down. you feel so full, you were growing more and more needy, a pout comes onto your lips because you didn’t want to stop so abruptly. you just wanted to keep riding him, but of course—you were working. “play it cool, baby.”

“um, is everything okay?” one of your fellow co-worker flight attendants, serena murmurs.

with a furrowing brow, she takes in the sight in front of her. you, happily straddling a passenger's lap whilst you’re heaving as if you’d just finish a 5k race. “we’ve been some getting complaints about noises. also, you need to restock the snacks near back. we’re runnin’ low on peanuts.”

“y-yeah, ‘m fine,” you sheepishly nod, knowing how fishy this entire scene might have looked. gojo’s dick was just idly enshrouded into your cunt, just one move and you’d be fucked. technically, you already were fucked. he’s tracing a finger against your thighs before you exhale. “but uh— can’t you restock?”

“i would but that’s not my job,” she snaps with an eye roll. gojo chortles at your co-worker’s attitude, he presses a single kiss against your neck and you almost moan. her facial expressions twist in disgust before she backs away. “anyways, just go restock,” and as she twists her heels to walk away, she utters under her breath. “weirdos. i don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

gojo lets out a breathy laugh as you finally moan again—it’s taking everything out of you and you start up the jolting of your hips again. “f-fuck, ‘m close, ‘toru,” you whimper, the friction feeling like hot static dragging against your legs. “mhm, ‘s good.”

“you’re even more dirtier than i thought, princess,” he whispers, a hand playfully wrapping around your throat as you’re moving your hips back. “i bet your co-worker put two ‘n two together. you could have been a little more believable.”

you’re moaning, his touch sending you more deadly shivers before you feel a coil within you squeeze shut tight. the beat of your heat grows rapid and your pupils dilate from pure pleasurable lust. you’re getting close again, it’s coming so quick that you barely have any time to breathe.

his aromatic cologne nearly blinds your sinuses before you feel against his neck with your palm. “i . . i don’t care if she knows,” you mumble with a scowl, feeling his base continuously rub against your entrance. you’re coating him with nothing but a pretty viscous sheet of your slick. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum again.”

“yeah? what if i want you to wait?” he purrs, his sloping trail of kisses turning into sucks. you whine, leaning into his touch as he’s stuffing your insides full of thick cock. jello—your legs felt like jello, barely even able to move. the warmth against him had you hungry for more. it was addictive, you didn’t know what it was. you didn’t get like this for any other passenger, yet here you were. your mouth croons open, whining out a single harmony at his pace. he’s still making you grind back against him, the tempo having your head going for a spin every time. “what if i want you to be a good attendant ‘n wait just a bit longer f’me?”

“but—”

“nuh uh,” he snickers, bringing a smack to your ass. “wait for me, pretty. this pussy’s gonna make a mess when i want her to.”

and he creeps a hand down between your jittery legs, rubbing a few circles against your already sopping wet cunt. a gasp wretches from your throat as you’re laid back against his chest. the rugged fabric of his tuxedo top whisks against your skin and you’re babbling out sweet nothings.

“f-fuck, ‘m not gonna last,” you whine, feeling yourself throb at the way his thumb brushes against your throat. he’s feeling the vibrations of your gruttural moans and it’s so cute. by this point, you’d already forgotten you were thirty thousand feet in the air. thirty thousand feet in the air and you were getting your pussy destroyed by one of your passengers. 

not just any passenger though, 

gojo satoru. 

he’s panting right with you as you’re just bouncing on his lap, two soft padded hands gripping against his thighs. as you bite your lip, your ass thrashes back gainst him and he hisses. “just like that, pretty girl. shiiiiit, ‘m gonna cum too.”

with his deep penetrative thrusts, it’s got you going ditzy. as he starts to spank against your puffy cunt, he nibbles against your collarbone. “you wanna cum with me, yeah? ‘s that why you keep dragging y’r nails into my leg?”

“s—sir,” you desperately spat, but he spanks your cunt again so you could switch your words around. “ngh, i mean satoru. wanna cum with you, pleaseplease. ‘s good, want it, finish in me.”

“my, well when ya ask like that,” he hums, and you feel the sharpness of his hips pivot. gojo groans, standing up before he lies you back against the now reclined seat. “lie back, baby. actually, changed my mind. i wanna push those pretty knees up to your chest.” 

panting, you lie back against the now lounged seat. gojo flashes you that same sly grin before he lifts up your leg—bringing a sweet kiss toward your ankle. “you can lose your license over this, you know? dirty girl, lettin’ your pussy think for ya instead of that brain, huh?”

“don’t care,” you moan, watching him quickly align his cock against your slit. gojo grunts, feeling you easily swallow his tip up again. your cunt was clingy, he was very much addicted to your slippery sloppy core. with his pants halfway on and hanging down to his ankles, he starts up a rapid pace again. “uh, uh,” you whimper again and again, your thighs instinctively wrapping around his waist. you’re keeping him warm from the inside, raw moans pulling out of your esophagus like it was nothing. “right there, ‘m gonna cum, please. s-sir, fuck me.”

“satoru,” he corrects you, a hand gripping your chin. pretty blue eyes leer down at you and he’s so close to you. as he’s jackhammering his cock into your sobbing swollen walls—eyes of your own goggle into gojo’s as he’s fucking you silly. you probably look a mess from this view, the heel of your foot grazing down his strong back muscles. gojo hears the sloshing squelches your own pussy makes and you feel the sudden throb arise from his dick. he twitches inside you and it makes his head throw back. after he gains composure again, he exhales deeply, tapping a thumb against your sealed lips.“you don’t gotta be formal when ‘m inside, princess,” and he squeezes your lips together, licking near the bottom. “open.”

you’re whining, his tempo growing quicker and you’re so close. crimson-carmine lips of his twitch into a feral smile once he sees you being so easy to comply. with your lips parting open, you tilt your head back before he spits into your mouth.

“theeeere’s your tip,” he teases, pursing your lips together with two fingers as you swallow. your cunt still gripping against him as he then pulls you into a deep kiss. with your legs clutching around his waist. “uh, manners baby. where’s my thank you?”

“t- thank you, ‘toru.” you breathe, feeling your cunt throb even quicker.

“oh, you’re welcome,” he smiles and he can’t help but giving you another kiss on the mouth shortly afterwards. the lustful stare he’s giving you could almost be described as lecherous has you more sopping wet by the second. with your legs tightly and securely keeping him from breaking away, he groans. right into your mouth, his tongue collides against yours before he sucks on it. as he brings you into a loving kiss again, gojo’s girth has you feeling a sudden arch in your back arise the moment you sit up. you’re being fucking into the reclined seat, his weight almost crushing against but it feels so good. “mhmmm, ‘m gonna cum. gonna spill so much inside of you, pretty.”

“don’t waste any,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around him. you didn’t even care how unprofessional this was. in the back of your mind, you’re thinking to yourself— if someone walked in again, who cares? not you. “please.”

“well aren’t you a doll,” gojo murmurs in a cooing tone, shoving your knees all the way up near your chest. you’re preparing yourself as you’re about to reach your final pleasurable demise. it feels almost tickling, the fat tip of his cock repeatedly kisses against that same spot within you. you’re whines sound almost melodic, not even caring if your pilot a few seats back heard. “look at me.” he taps your bottom shaking lip, leaning in to plant another kiss on your lips. one turns into two, then three, then four . .

and then— his phone rings.

you’re still a moaning mess, feeling your legs just about give out as he’s pressing such amounts of weight on top of you. gojo’s hands fondle with your neglected breasts that laid underneath your blazer. he groans, reaching for his phone near the counter of the seat. with a grunt, he answers. “tch. satoru gojo.”

still snugly shoved deep inside, he’s multitasking. one hand holds onto the left side of your waist, another holding his phone up against his cheek. he’s drilling into you so mercilessly as if his occupation was a construction worker. you whine, the scratching itch never leaving you. once it comes, it comes. “suguru, ‘m kinda busy. can this wai— oh f…fuck.”

in an abrupt gasp, he ends up finishing first. it’s so much. thick gooey spurts pour into your cunt, filling up the insides of your goopy womb. gojo’s peering down at you and his lip quivers. he finished a bit early. too quick, his hand shakes as he holds up his phone before you squeeze your legs against his torso even tighter. for a moment, he almost whines himself. the strong gripping grip your pussy has against makes him swear underneath his breath.

“huh? yeah, ‘m good,” he sexily whews, slowing his rhythm down a bit.

a hand of his snaps, making you look down between your legs.

he gives you a teasing grin and you spread your folds open. it was so much, so much velvety ropes of hot cum that ooze in and out of your sloppy folds. you’ve never felt more warm from the inside. it was a feeling that had your mouth watering, salivating with your sweet, syrupy saliva. your legs were practically mush, and once you finish, you end up gushing all out at once. it takes you by surprise more than anything. the feeling comes like a crashing, unpredictable wave, a fading fade then departures from your body. minutes eventually pass and gojo’s still yapping away on the phone—yet after a while, he decides to wrap it up and groan. “yeah yeah okay, man. i gotta go now. unless you wanna listen to how i sound post-orgasm, heh.”

“what—?”

with a quick bleep, gojo hangs up. tossing his phone aside, he looks down at you—cutely sprawled out whilst chills run down your body. he can almost see you palpitating from said chills. leaning up close to you, still balls deep, he pants heavily. gojo pressed a kiss against your right temple before teasing. “heyyy, did you just squirt on me?” he asks, and he speaks in a sly soft tone.

you don’t reply and he gives you a priggish smile. “you didddd. so nasty, i should make ya lick it off me.”

you did end up squirting. it was so much. so so much.

you’re still having your legs wrap around his waist before you grab onto his wide, stiff shoulders. “s-satoru,” you moan into his neck, getting yet another balmy whiff of his manly musk. “f-fuuuck, more.”

right before he could reply though— the intercom of the plane comes on and it’s the pilot.

“ladies and gentleman, we’ve made it to our destination. local time and time of arrival is six thirty-three am. for your own safety and others around you, please remain seated and keep the aisles cleared until i announce we’re at the airport gates. thank you.”

“aw, boo,” gojo laments, slowly pulling out of your pussy. a pout unfurls against your glossed lips as you feel suddenly empty. no more thick inches inside. the only thing you felt were the leftover masses of his cum spewing out of you. the seats were a mess, he brings a hand down to strum a few fingers against your entrance and you whine. so soaked, he gifts you with a kiss on your forehead before exhaling. “well, think it’s ‘bout time we part ways, gorgeous.”

gojo helps put back on your skirt and panties and you‘re just laid back with a cute scowl as he assists you off your feet. “i . . can’t walk like this,” and he chuckles at how stiff you were— a few droplets of his cum race down your thighs and you almost moan again. you’re still sensitive, throbbing near every inch of your body before he stands up. he’s so lean and tall. as gojo towers over you, you glance up at him and you’re met with that annoying flirtatious smirk he gave you when his eyes first laid on you. “my panties are practically ripped.”

he turns around to grab his suitcases above him from the cabinet and sighs.

zipping up his exposed fly, gojo leans in to kiss your forehead. “ah, well i can always buy you some more,” and then he pauses. “actually,” he grabs his wallet and your eyes widen once he gives you three hundred dollar bills. “i can buy you more than just panties if ya want, sweet thing,” he slides the bills in between your bra before pressing a kiss against your neck. “you’ve been such a good girl,” and he then hands you his business card. it displays his name and a cheesy saying near the front, all his information in bold blue letters too. before walking away with your bawled up underwear, he leans up to your ear for a final time and whispers, “remember though, it’s satoru gojo, baby. ah, and these panties—i’ll be keeping these as a souvenir.”

Would y'all want any Miguel O’hara Fics or JJk Fics? Like I have some stuff for Gojo, and I have so much Miguel O’hara. Also Bakugo too… Or I could also do other people just request!!

Please stop, it's annoying that I always find more things about stupid Gojo and not Nanami, I don't even like Gojo...

Can they put the labels correctly? Believe me, it's SUPER annoying to find Gojo stuff ON NANAMI'S DAMN LABELS, if those things exist. It's for something. Same with the fluff tags, not only are they from Gojo but they are NSFW from Gojo. I just want Nanami Kento fluff, not Gojo's fucking NSFW tags fluff... 💀

Same with other shows, I'm not interested in ANYTHING but NOTHING about Gojo in Naruto or One Piece tags.

Same for other characters like Itadori or especially Geto, god it's dam annoying that Gejo's tag is almost all 90% Gojo, 5% NSFW Gojo and 5% content Geto :/

Note: Sorry for my terrible English, I am not a speaker of the language but I wanted to vent...

NAME : gojo satoru , jujustu kaisen

SONG : me and your mama , childish gambino

SUMMARY : gojo satoru has been your bodyguard for ages, he's nearly your age, only 1 year older. your father insists that gojo is there around you for your safety.

you can read part 2 here!

(non like magic world au/no jujustu sorcerers au)

y/n honestly weren't very sure of what business her father did.

he had tons money, crazy rich. the house she lived in was gigantic and she had been living it in since she were born. she was 19 now, still living in her childhood home as her father has insisted her to.

to the plus side of being rich, there would always be some bodyguard in her sights. like always, the only reason she wouldn't is in her bedroom or bathroom, but even then, they would stand outside, waiting patiently for her.

y/n had a personal bodyguard, been there since she were 12, gojo satoru. he was her favourite. he was fairly cute and the two of them really had a connection.

he'd even let her sneak out when she were 15 sometimes, but he would always be with her, he looked out towards the busy streets while she bought food from the midnight vendors, smiling at her while he ate along with her.

he listened to her whenever she needed a good cry and he held her in his arms, stroking her head as he switched his radio off behind her back, not wanting to leave her.

he'd let her play with his hair while he sat cross-legged and she sat on his lap, doing whatever she wanted as she applied makeup to his face and slapping his cheek lightly as he blinked from the mascara she were putting on his white eyelashes.

he stood behind the wall as she argued with her father about wanting to leave, shortly after when she were storming off and away, he was a corner away, tucking her into his arms as tears rolled down her face.

-

satoru had a soft spot for y/n, being introduced to her when she was 12 and he was 13.

"gojo, meet y/n. y/n meet gojo satoru."

gojo was a bit taller than y/n. he had his hands behind his back but was picking at his nails behind his back.

y/n was standing next to her father, smiling widely,

"hi gojo!"

"hi y/n."

after that, gojo would linger around her presence more, y/n's father was friends with gojo's father, which led to gojo's father leading y/n's father some of his own men, including his son. gojo's father was more than happy to led his own flesh and blood, gojo's father hoped that the young boy and girl would get closer.

gojo helped her with her homework, seeing as he was in a higher grade level and he already knew the material. he helped her choose out what she wanted to wear to school, even if it was a private academy and she had a uniform, she was allowed to wear simple makeup and accessories. he really liked it when she wore the white clip.

school got too dangerous, without y/n's knowledge, she was pulled out of school, going into homeschooling, tutors for each subject as satoru sat beside her for help.

it was late, y/n's father was out doing business and satoru and y/n were sat on the dining table as she was finishing homework from her english tutor.

she was 15, her chin on her hand as her elbow rested on the table and her free hand spinning a pen, satoru was beside her, looking at her, noticing her hands spin the pen, watching her her eyelashes closed and reopened slowly, as if she was tired. she was tired, her head bobbing up and down.

"you can go to sleep if you want, y/n. let's do your skincare routine."

"wait- lemme finish the questions first.."

"you're gonna fall asleep before you do sweetie."

"no i won't, satoru.."

"sure you won't."

satoru silently crossed his arms, leaning back onto the chair as y/n crossed her arms on the table and rested her head on them, looking at the papers infront of her.

her eyes slowly came to a close eventually, and satoru heard the soft, quiet snores and satoru chuckled. he stood up, moving her position to hold her under her thighs as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs hanging mid air next to his as he stood straight up.

"told 'ya you'd fall asleep."

"shh.."

she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and yawned in his ear, he put one hand underneath her, under her butt to the side of her hip and one hand on her lower back.

he walked to her room, moving his head to signal to the bodyguard to open her door as he walked to her bathroom, sliding the door open and sitting her on the counter.

"just stay sitting up for me pretty, i'm doing your skincare."

-

y/n had brought satoru into her bathroom while she did her skincare night routine sometimes, so he knew the basics on what she did. she wanted to gossip about the girls in her school while she patted her skin with essence.

"she even put food in her locker and it got moldy because she didn't know it was there! like who does that?"

satoru was leaning on the door to prevent anyone from getting in, his arms crossed while nodding and watching her actions.

"yeah, who does that?"

-

eventually he finished, laying her down on her bed as she gingerly tucked her head into her pillow deeper, hugging herself with her blanket. satoru silently left the room, going back to the dining room table to pick up the homework and supplies, bringing it back to y/n's room.

he ended up doing her homework as he felt bad, making it slightly into y/n's handwriting, a little bit messier than her normal handwriting.

he finished, standing up and walking to y/n's bed who was sleeping, just to check on her. he crouched next to her, kissing the back of her hand that laid on the side near the edge.

"goodnight y/n."

NAME : gojo satoru , jujustu kaisen

SONG : goodies , ciara

SUMMARY : gojo satoru, your bodyguard. you whined to go shopping but you don't go before gojo gets some advice.

you can read part 1 here!

y/n was 19 and satoru was 20. by protecting y/n for 7 years, he was well trained, smart and able to protect her in any situation.

"but daddy! i wanna go shopping!"

"okay fine! be safe. gojo, go with her."

y/n excitingly looked at satoru and he smiled back at her.

"go wait at the door, needa tell gojo something."

"okay!"

y/n practically hopped towards the door in excitement, having already been dressed and her black card in her purse.

gojo walked towards y/n's father, standing infront of him, hands behind his back.

"yes sir?"

"keep her safe, stay next to her the whole time."

"yes sir, i'll keep her safe."

gojo bowed to him, walking away towards the door.

"let's go y/n."

"yay!"

-

satoru drove him and y/n to the mall, y/n sat in the passenger seat as satoru held her hand while driving with one hand.

"park over there, satoru."

"yes princess."

satoru looked at the place she pointed, y/n was typing on her phone, texting her friend and didn't seem to see the men in black suits infront of the mall entrance.

they started looking up towards the car satoru was driving with y/n. satoru narrowed his eyes towards them. they even started pointing, but then they walked inside.

satoru grimaced, glaring at them as he narrowed his eyes at them. he parked the car, getting out and opening the door for y/n as she waited for satoru to shut and close the car door to start walking quickly towards the mall.

-

"how do you think this looks?"

y/n questioned, holding a skirt up to her hips. it was a mini skirt, a plaid black and white design on it.

"i think it looks good."

satoru agreed. it had been 30 minutes and he was holding 3 different bags with clothes and cosmetics in one hand. y/n smiled, going back to rummaging through the clothes, walking to the other side of the store as she didn't notice that satoru punched the guy behind him with his free hand. unsuprisingly, they were the enemy. out to get y/n's father by aiming for his daughter and gojo.

-

y/n was swatching lip tints and lipsticks on her hand, humming a short tune to herself as she looked at satoru’s hand, him also having lip swatches all over his hand, including his knuckle.

“do you like this pinky tone? i might get these ones- oo! this one too!”

she pointed at one pink swatch on the top of his knuckle as satoru opened his hand to examine.

“yeah, you would look cute in it.”

satoru said, bringing up his hand to the side of y/n’s face to see how it would look on her. y/n excitedly picked up a few different lip products, going to the front to pay as satoru followed her close behind. as satoru walked, he punched a guy coming to their side as the lip products transferred a little from satoru’s knuckle to the guy’s temple.

-

y/n was changing in the changing rooms, satoru stood infront of the curtain holding it shut as it didn’t close all the way.

“satoru! can you get me this is a small/bigger size?”

y/n opened the curtain slightly, bringing out a shirt and satoru grabbed it gently from her hands.

“alright princess.”

satoru got up from the wall, walking into the store. the shelves were high and satoru spotted a man in a suit, a wire connecting to his ear as satoru snuck up behind him, choking him out in a headlock from behind and making him pass out.

unfortunately, a guy in a matching suit saw, running up towards satoru as satoru stepped back a bit, charging towards the man and tackling him into a clothing rack, making him disappear behind the racks of clothes as satoru straightened up, dusting off his suit.

satoru was still holding the shirt that y/n wanted a different size of, he walked to the end of the store where it was, shuffling through to find the correct size.

satoru grabbed it and placed the original shirt back onto the rack, as he turned, a man had attempted to punch satoru right in the face, but satoru dodged last minute, punching up into the man’s jaw from underneath sending him flying back.

satoru stepped over him, walking back to the change rooms to hand y/n the shirt.

“here, y/n.”

“thank you!”

y/n quickly took it and satoru re tracked his hand as she grab the clothing hanger.

satoru looked to the side, the exit of the changing rooms, seeing the group of men that were all wearing matching suits. satoru groaned out loud, y/n opening the curtain and looking out to where satoru was looking.

“ohh… go, let loose. finish quickly and you can see my outfit.”

y/n said, shutting the curtain and the sound of a zipper could be heard which made satoru excited, turning towards the group and immediately lunging towards them.

what’s going on with the world rn

Help for Venezuela. REBLOG PLEASE.

Help me spread the word about what is happening in my country.I don't want to cry anymore thinking about what is going to happen to my family, or my friends. Many in my generation have committed suicide due to the desperation of the current crisis, others have left their university careers to go to work at an early age for a starvation wage. Please, I just want to stop suffering, I don't want to cry anymore, I just want a normal adolescence for all young people. My people need FREEDOM.

"You Cryin'?"

~ ft Satoru Gojo

Synopsis -  You and Gojo have been inseparable since childhood. Everyone thought that once you both got older you'd be more independent from each other (even you) but Gojo always happened to be there exactly when you needed him... ALWAYS.

cw. dacryphilia, breeding, dubcon?? (aphrodisiacs in your drink), oral sex (male & female receiving), implied/slightly Yandere! Gojo, implied stalking, implied noncon recording, best friend! Gojo, roommate! Gojo, dom! Gojo, sub! reader, black-coded reader, afab reader, pet names are used (baby, dollface, pretty, etc)

wc. 4k

AN: I'm really nervous since I haven't properly written a fic in basically two years... I hope you guys like it.

❗️minors & blank blogs DNI❗️

“Hey baby, wanna get out of here?” You shake your head as you giggle. You're both at the biggest Halloween party of the year hosted by the most popular frat on campus.

“Toru, we just got here.” Quite literally, you and Toru just walked through the door about five minutes ago. You don’t even have a drink in your hand yet. “Let’s have fun, especially since I look so cute doing it.” You’re both dressed as Velma and Shaggy from Scooby- doo, you wanted to be Velma, and Toru wanted to match whatever you wore so people ‘know your best friends’. 

“You always look cute no need to go to a party to prove that.”

“But everyone’s at this one.”

“You can see all these people in school.”

“We live together. I can see you all day, every day.” 

He groans in frustration. “Well, that’s different.” He wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling into your neck as he mumbles. “I missed you. Can’t I miss my best friend?” 

“I thought that was Suguru?” He groans and you giggle. “I mean, technically, you can miss me, but it should be hard when we’re basically attached at the hip.” You giggle, lifting your hand to run your fingers in his hair. You have been friends with Toru your whole life and have been quite literally inseparable since. Everyone says he is overly possessive and attached to you but he was always like that with everything and everyone… right?

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” You can hear his pout. “I just don’t want you to, I don’t know, forget about me.”

“Toru.” You lift his head and turn around in his hold. To others, this would look quite intimate but both of you have always been touchy with each other. You hold his face, able to see his pout clearly. “I’d never forget about my best friend in the whole world. You’re my other half.” His cheeks and the tips of his ears turn a cute pink as a small smile grows on his face. “But I also have other friends I like spending time with as well.” His smile drops. 

“Ugh, fine, but you’ll never have as much fun as we have when it’s just the two of us together.” He mumbles as you pull your hands from his pouty face with a giggle. You spot Suguru and Shoko walking up so you feel more comfortable leaving him.

“Others might take that the wrong way.” You tease as you walk towards your Sorority Sisters. 

You end up splitting your time between your Sorority Sisters, random guys, Satoru, and the others. With your Sorority Sisters, you talk about upcoming events, classes or dance together. When you spend time with Satoru, he leaves the friend group, so it’s just the two of you, and he always has a drink in hand for you. Nothing new to you, honestly. You both dance, sing songs and talk about the most random things. The alcohol is definitely to blame for that, at least on your part, since Satoru is a terrible lightweight, so he doesn't drink much, if at all.

You could feel eyes on you when you were with your other friends, but when you looked around, no one, not even Toru, was looking at you. Strangely, you only felt like someone was watching when you weren’t with Satoru, and not just at this party but just any time you two weren’t together. Shoko teases you whenever you bring it up to her and the girls and says you think you're the main character too much.

But when you think about it, some things don't add up whenever you’re at parties. Guys come up to talk or dance with you, but for some reason, they’d always leave, no explanation, nothing. And every time that happens, Satoru is right there to take their place. He’s always there when you need him. When your car breaks down out of nowhere, he’s there. When you’re too drunk at parties or bars with your friends, he’s there to take you home. When you’re on a date that isn’t going so well, he’s always there making the perfect excuses so you can leave. You always joke that he has spidey senses when you need him since most instances, if not all… you never called or texted saying you needed him, and he’d just laugh. 

At some point, the drinks start to taste a bit different, but you assume he’s just making a different mix now. But the more you drink, the hotter you feel. It’s like a fever is running through you, your legs feel weak, and your pussy is about to cause a flood. It’s starting to get bad, so you excuse yourself to the bathroom while your other friends tell you to be careful and that they won’t move so you can find them. 

You go to a bathroom located upstairs in the frat to have privacy. Once you reach the bathroom, you can see the sweat ruining your edges and running down leaving streaks in your makeup. You wet a paper towel and dab your face and body with cool water, hoping it will help alleviate the fever, but nothing’s working. No matter how worked up you've ever been, it’s never been this bad or this random. 

The door starts to open and you quickly push it closed, cursing yourself for forgetting to lock it. “Um, someone’s in here.” You croak, your voice filled with desperation and anxiety. 

“It’s me, princess. Your friends said you were here, so I came to check on you.” You would usually relax when you hear Satoru’s voice, but for some reason, it makes the ache feel worse. “Come on baby, let me in.” The slight plead makes you tremble as the thought of him begging for you crosses your mind. 

“Fuck, come in.” You move from the door letting him come in. You give him a once, twice, thrice over. You always knew Satoru was attractive; his fan girls can confirm that, but you never felt the need to rip his clothes off of him until now. You feel like a dog in heat with the thoughts flooding your mind.

“What’s wrong, sweets? You don’t look so good.” He leans close to your face as the cool back of his hand presses against your forehead. You shiver at his touch. Have his hands always been this big?  “You feel like you have a fever. Wanna go home lovebug?” His voice moves through you like silk and you feel like you can barely stand. 

You practically collapse in his chest, gripping his shirt tightly as you shake your head. “I…I can’t move.” His hands hold your waist causing you to whine in his chest slightly. You imagine his hands holding your waist as he fucks into you from behind, only making your pussy gush. “I feel so weak.” With your head in his chest, you miss the victorious smile on his face. His scent is driving you crazy. You should be used to it by now, but it’s almost like it’s fogging up your mind. “I don’t k-know what’s wrong with me, Toru.”

“Is there anything I can do? Maybe get you some water?” You feel him about to move away from you and tighten your grip with a ‘no’ that sounds like a desperate moan. 

“Please don’t leave me.” You look up at him with teary eyes. You feel like you're drowning in him. “I- fuck, this is so embarrassing.” You whine as tears threaten to flow down your face. “I’m so horny Toru a-and I need you to help me. Fuck I know this sounds so insane, but please, I need you so bad.” Tears stream down your face as you beg him.

His face changes from concern to something you can’t tell. His eyes darken from his almost clear ocean blue to a stormy sea blue. His grip on your waist tightens, causing you to whine out his name pathetically, your head falling to his chest again. He grabs your face with one hand, squishing your cheeks as he tilts it up to his. A giant mocking smirk is on his face as he tilts his head slightly. “You cryin’?”  

“Don’t tease me!” You try looking away, but his grip is firm. 

“Tell me exactly when you need from me.” His face looks desperate to hear it from you. He leans his face close to yours, lips almost brushing against each other. You try to close the gap, but he doesn’t let you. “Come on, baby, say it for me.” He whispers, letting his minty breath ghost your lips. 

“Please, Toru, I need you to fuck me.” As soon as the words tumble out your mouth, his lips are on yours hungrily. You’d think he’s the one who needs your help. This isn’t the first time you both have kissed, but this is one without party games and dares involved. You begged for this one, and Satoru is determined to make sure you never forget it. 

He turns you both, pushing you against the wall with his hands, bruising your hips with his grip. He moves from your lips down your neck as you let a hand move to his hair. “Fuck I’ve dreamt about this.” He mumbles into your neck as he bites and sucks on the skin, leaving marks you’d have to cover up. 

He lets a hand slide from your hip to your thigh, pulling your leg up to sit on his waist. Your skirt rides up, making it easier for him to grind against you. The feeling of your clothed core rubbing against the rough material of his jeans has you writhing and whining. “F-fuck Toru.”

 You desperately hump yourself against the tent in his jeans with desperate whines. “Please, Toru- ah s-shit baby- need you inside.” 

“I know, baby, I know.” He coos, lifting his head to kiss you on the lips. “I wanna make sure you can take me first, sweets.” He moves the hand on your leg to your clothed core, chuckling. “Aww baby, you’re soaking wet for me. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

He slips down to his knees, all his focus on the space between your thighs. You lean against the wall for balance when you feel him force your legs apart before brushing his nose against your soaked panties. A throaty groan leaves him as he licks and bites at the drenched material. “Fuck pretty,  you taste better than I imagined.” He yanks your panties down, letting them fall to your ankles. He helps you step out of them before pocketing the tiny material. He lifts your left leg that sat on his waist and puts it over his shoulder this time. You swear he has a dreamy look in his eyes when he’s face to face with your dripping hole. “Had dreams of tasting your pretty little pussy. So much prettier in person.”

You can’t even comprehend his words as he shoves his face in between your thighs. He licks, sucks, and groans on your clit while you wiggle and moan. When you try closing your legs, he harshly grips your thighs. “Don’t interrupt my meal.” He growls before spitting on your cunt, using his long middle finger to rub it in before pushing it into you. 

Your hand flies to his hair at the stretch. “Oh yeah, baby, I always knew this pussy was so tight. Practically pulling my finger off.” He chuckles as his beautiful eyes stare up at you, cloudy with his intense desire. You almost think Satoru has never eaten in his life the way he devours your pussy like a man starved his entire life. 

“T-toru so close…” You whine as you grind yourself against his tongue and fingers, using your leg on his shoulder to push his head closer to your aching core. He groans into you as he pushes his ring finger into you, barely giving you time to adjust before letting his pointer finger join the party. “A-ahhh, wait so much.” You yank at his hair, causing him to be pulled away from you, and the sight is breathtaking. 

Finally able to see his entire face again, you see the bottom half of his face is covered in your slick. His eyes are so clouded by lust and desire that it’s overwhelming, and his hair is such a white silky mess between your fingers, almost like this was what his hair was meant for.

“Please baby, lemme keep eating.” He whines as he roughly finger fucks you. “Want you to cum in my mouth before you make a mess on my cock.” Your head falls back against the wall as your eyes close. They shoot open at the slap on your cunt. “Look. At. Me.” He delivers a harsh slap with each word, causing whines to fall from your plump lips, but you make eye contact to the best of your abilities, making the sadist smile. “Wanna see your face when you fall apart, dollface.” He coos at you as he kisses your cunt as an apology, sloppily making out with your swollen clit. “Can I continue my love?”

He truthfully doesn’t care what your answer is. He’s Satoru Gojo. He always gets what he wants one way or another. But seeing you weakly nod at him with a fucked-out look all over your face definitely made him love receiving an answer. He goes back to eating, switching his fingers and tongue so he is eating your pussy and rubbing your clit. 

Each pump of his tongue inside you or each flick of his fingers drags you closer and closer to your desired end. “O-oh my fuck! Toru, I’m gonna- shit, I'm cumming,” You whine as you hump against his mouth. He doesn't say a thing, just fucks you harder and deeper with his tongue his way of begging you to give him what he wants. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to crash over you, feeling more intense than any orgasm you've ever had. You struggle to keep your eyes open, but if they were closed, you would’ve missed the fact that you squirted for the first time in your life all over your best friend’s face. 

Your orgasm doesn’t mean he’s stopping, though. He keeps licking at you, pushing you to slight overstimulation as he tries to drink every drop of what he's been waiting for and worked so hard for. You tug on his hair with broken ‘stop’ and ‘no more’ tumbling out your mouth. He lazily pulls away and looks up at you. “I thought you liked this. You always do it to yourself… why can’t I?” Nothing he’s saying makes sense to you, but honestly, you haven’t been able to think straight for a while now. 

“Don’t tease me. Need you, Toru.” You plead as you pull him up into a hungry kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. You let your hand slide to his crotch, fumbling with his button and zipper.

“Fuck, your such a needy girl.” He groans into your mouth as you finally undo his jeans, pushing them down. You look down to see his big bulge, probably the biggest you’ve ever seen. He must’ve seen the look on your face because he lets out a hearty laugh. “You just gonna stare, or you gonna take it out for me, pretty?” He tilts his head with a cocky grin, reminding you who he is. 

“Fuck you.” You mumble as you squeeze him over his boxers, causing him to hiss. You slide down to your knees, looking up at him with a small smile. His eyes look down at you with a wild, almost crazed look. 

“What are you-” Satoru is rarely shocked, but he didn’t expect to see you on your knees. No matter how much he dreamed of this, he didn't plan on it happening… not this time, at least. 

“Need to make sure you can fit, right?” You tilt your head slightly as you pull down his underwear, watching with wide eyes as his cock slaps against his stomach, almost taking an eye out in the process. Not only was he big, but he was beautiful. He’s long, not too thick, with trimmed white hairs. His tip is a pretty pink mushroom that’s a deep, angry red from being neglected. He has a slight upward curve that is sure to destroy your insides. Everything is so perfectly proportioned, like everything else about him… perfect.

When you look back up at him, you expect to see a cocky look, but instead, he’s completely red and looking away from you with a hand covering his eyes. “F-fuck, don’t look at it like that.” He whines pathetically. You never imagined the day you’d see Satoru Gojo this embarrassed or embarrassed at all. 

You giggle softly before you kiss his tip gently. He shutters with a shaky whimper, leaving him as his chest heaves. “I guess everything about you really is beautiful, huh Toru?” You tease, causing him to look at you with wide eyes. Once you’ve got his eyes on you, you take his tip in your mouth. 

“Oh fuck.” He whimpers as his hand flies to your hair cautiously. He knows better than to touch your hair usually, but right now, he can’t help himself. If he doesn’t hold onto something, he’s going to cum undone right there. “D-don't look at me while you do it.” He groans when you take more of his cock in your mouth, ignoring him. “Don’t wanna- ahh fuck- don’t wanna cum yet baby please.” He pleads with you as his other hand comes down to your head.

You continue sucking his cock, taking barely half of it and using your hand to make up for what can’t fit in your mouth. When your cold hand touches his balls, he bucks into your mouth, causing you to gag. “Fuck, I’m sorry I just - oh shit- you just feel so g-good baby.” He stills your head as he slowly starts fucking your throat as he whimpers and whines, ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again. You hallow your throat and flatten your tongue, swallowing around him to make sure he feels as much pleasure as he’s given you.

You are mesmerized as you watch him fall apart above you. His pale skin is covered in a pink tint while it glistens with sweat, almost looking like glitter on his skin. His eyes are hooded, with his usual clear blue being clouded with so much lust, desire, and desperation. You swear he’s drooling as he ruts himself down your throat. “Oh shit, baby, I-I’m gonna cum- ah, can I please- ahh fucking shit- wanna cum.” You gargle an answer around him, causing him to buck faster. “T-tap twice for yes, baby, please.” You tap his thigh twice, and he wastes no time, brutally using your throat to reach his climax. His head falls back as you feel ropes of cum shoot down your throat. When his hands fall away, you pull him out with a pop, working your hand over him gently. You’re shocked that after all the cum he just released that he's still rock hard. His eyes fall on you as he breathes heavily, and you open your mouth to show you swallowed all his cum. 

He yanks you up, kissing you roughly as he lifts you up to wrap your legs around his hips. “Fucking nasty girl, aren’t you?” He wastes no time pushing his tip into you. Your mouth falls open as his tip stretches you out. “You got it, baby. We made sure I could fit, remember?”  He gives you barely a minute before he pushes more of his cock into your tight weeping cunt. “You’re sucking me in, I can’t help myself.” He whispers as he bites your neck, pushing himself all the way in. You let out a scream at the feeling of every inch inside of you, hitting spots you’ve never felt touched before. “You take my cock so good, fuckin’ made for me.”

Your head drops to his shoulder as you hold onto him for dear life. “Move Toru, I can take it.” You whimper out, and he does just that. How can he say no to his beautiful best friend when she’s begging to be fucked? He snaps his hips into yours brutally, squeezing your ass as he fucks you with no remorse. 

“Such a good fucking girl for me, takin all this dick.” He rests you against the wall so he can move a hand to your stomach, pushing on the bulge he left there. You bite his shoulder as muffled sobs leave your swollen lips. “Feelin’ me all in your tummy, baby?” He coos as you lift your head to meet his eyes. The sight of tears falling down your face does something to him, it always has. He lets out a sadistic laugh as he returns his hands to your ass before proceeding to fuck up into you while bouncing you on his cock.“Fuck baby, cry for my cock that's right.” 

Every hit has him hitting your G-spot over and over, not giving it a single break. “I’m gonna ruin you for every guy after me.” He growls in your ear. “Not even your fingers or pretty little toys will satisfy you when I’m done.” You whimper as you feel your second orgasm ready to destroy you. “You’ll beg for me when you play with that pretty little pussy, always babbling dumb shit. Now it’ll be my name on repeat.” His words are so confusing but help drag you closer and closer. 

You don’t even have a chance to warm him before your creaming on his cock, making a white ring around his base as he continues fucking into you. He pushes his head into the crook of your neck, leaving bite marks next to the previous ones he’s left. You squeeze him for all he has as you feel a third orgasm approaching. “Shit baby, imma cum baby. Ahhh where? W-where do you want it, princess?” Honestly… he’s gonna cum inside you, but he just wants to hear what you’ll say.

“I-inside Toru, please inside.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, he’s shooting his cum into your womb with a whine of your name and a joyful feeling. Of course, you’d want the same thing he wants. You two are obviously meant for each other, always have been, and always will be. He sits there for a bit as you both try to catch your breath. 

“Do you feel better?” He whispers, gently kissing your forehead as he places your feet on the ground. You nod weakly as you lean into his chest. “Good.” He pulls out, pulling your panties out of his pocket and helping you put them on quickly before too much of his cum can fall out of you. Keeping an arm wrapped around you, he opens the cupboard under the sink and pulls out a rag you recognize from home. “I’m gonna clean you up a bit, and when we get home, I’ll properly take care of you.” He whispers as he wipes your legs from the messes you both made. He kisses your legs, fingers, and head as he helps you fix your clothes and himself. 

Once you both look somewhat presentable, he pulls you into his chest. “I love you, baby girl,” he whispers as he gently kisses your lips, pulling your skirt down though it already covered you. 

“I love you too, Toru.” You whisper back before he walks out of the bathroom. After taking a moment to breathe, you walk downstairs to where your Sorority Sisters are waiting for you.

“Girl, where have you been? We’ve been looking for you.”

“What do you mean? I was in the bathroom upstairs. That’s where you guys sent Toru.”

“Um, what are you talking about? Gojo never came to ask us where you were.”

“Yeah, even if he did, we didn’t know you were upstairs.”

Have you....ever wondered what's it like to keep up a list of FICTIONAL MEN that you fell in love with or feel infatuated of them?

Well...hello there, my name is Kim and I happen to have a questionable taste in men, where I happen to love blonde men who are supposedly dead in an anime show, and their national anthem can either be a Lana Del Rey song or forever young nowadays...or Dorito men who happen to think that they are a father to this child, even though it belongs to their other version from another dimension, and tries to blend and in the end causes the world to be dead ad literally glitched out of extinction, yeah, I'VE BEEN IN THAT PHASE, especially in JUNE.

Now, have you EVER looked at a song that has the word Daddy in it, yeah, we both know what that means. Initials are S. G not Suguru but DADDY SATORU. Man, that six eyed freak is causing something in me that's wetter than the motherfuckin' ocean, THAT, I admit.

AND OLDER MEN...FUUUUUUUCK, AIZAWA IS SOMETHING ELSE, same goes with Nanami, Kakashi and other men who are older that is HOT as Hell.

UGGHHH and hybrids.... fucking hell.

Technical, not hybrids in a full percentage but there is a half human and half shit where the other half is powerful and THEY happen to be immortal, some not likely, like for example: Nick Wilde, Bunnymund, or the wolf from bad guys, aaaand Diego from Ice age, lastly....TMNT. Now don't FUCK with ME.

BECAUSE WE BOTH KNOW, THAT THOSE FOUR BROTHERS OF A TURTLE, HAPPENS TO BE OUR CRUSHES, GOT IT, IK I'M RIGHT, AND YOU AIN'T DENYING IT EITHER.

But the most, unbelievable thing we happen to have, is the jackpot, is an immortal, which is none other than...

Yes, child, I know what you're thinking...

Sun Wukong.

THIS. IS AN ABOMINATION IN MY HEART AND IT CAUSED ME HEART ATTACKS AND SHIT, MY MIND AND HEART, Boom straight to Heaven.

Anyways.. that's it.

I'm just bored and decided to bring out my thoughts so yeah, bye. :))))