#soft princes life

[divine-mystic-princess]

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

how deep is your devotion? ; satoru gojo

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

word count; 6.6k

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

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

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

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

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

”does it hurt?”

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

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and he wins. he always wins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

all of it for one person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“sure you do.”

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

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but…

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

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

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

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

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

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

satoru sits up a little straighter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

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

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

”settle down, little knight.”

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

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

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

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

no matter where he goes, you follow.

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

“come with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you blink.

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

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

you raise your brow. unimpressed.

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

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

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

his knight. his favourite knight.

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

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

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

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

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

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

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

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

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

his chest is heaving. lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

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

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

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

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

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

(he’s warm.)

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

“i missed this.”

…

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

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

“… me too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire.

”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

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

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

a questioning hum. “do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… sorry.”

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

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

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

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

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing.

enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i don't get it, though.”

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

a moment passes.

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

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

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

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

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

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

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

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

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

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

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

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

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

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

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

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

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

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

“i think i was born to meet you.”

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

[cryptid-condor]

the deer prince and the golden doe

from chapter 34 of Salt00's fic Chick Magnet

please click for HD tumblr is killing this one

[meow-parties]

cheers commercial break = cuddle time.

[mandaloriandragontrainer]

Controversial opinion of the night:

Rayla was raised in a culture that would cast out or even kill* her for fear or weakness. She views herself as a mean of defense for others, or even as a pawn to be sacrificed for someone else’s sake.

So maybe a situation in which she is cared for or rescued or romanced isn’t stripping her character of agency or reducing her to a love interest or whatever the complaint is. Maybe her playing the damsel in distress demonstrates that she is not only a protector but also someone who deserves protection, and who has inherent value just for being herself, not for her abilities.

Also Callum swooping in to rescue her is heckin’ romantic

[archersartcorner]

Just a fuckton variety of Skip n Norm doodles. *points* I like the sluge…

[catiuskaa]

drunk-dazed [i’m yours]

fluff… slight nsfw and even angst if you blink real quick

taking care of the sick + drunk love interest trope (because iT WORKS AND ITS FUN)

ANDD?? THIS PICTURE OF HYUNJIN??? LIVES WERE CHANGED.

〜 ♡♡♡〜

“This shit won’t go away!”

You cackled at the sight of the everlasting sunshine, also known as Lee Felix, or as some would say, your best friend, that was currently fighting against some contact lenses that he couldn’t take off.

“Need a hand?” You teased.

“Need you to shut up, I can do this.” He grinned at you through the mirror.

Felix had recently moved to this bigger, better place he had found thanks to a so-called “friend” of his —because you knew Lix was head over heels and just absolutley into this Changbin guy you hadn’t met- yet. A friend of Changbin was in need of a roomate, and after several meetings, hanging out together and getting to know eachother, Felix moved in and you got to meet the guy. Not your best friend’s love interest, which you would meet later, but him. The roomate.

Hwang Hyunjin.

If he had told you he was a professional model, you would’ve believed it. You gave Felix a look when the tall boy with blond locks wasn’t paying attention, and lifted your eyebrows with a smile.

“He’s hot!” You meant. The Australian boy got that by your face and giggled, grinning at you with a sly smile-

And that’s when you knew you’d sorta fucked up, because when the little sunshine’s lovelife was marked as checked in his needs, he always had turned to yours, attempting of setting you up with people you’d expressed somewhat interest in. But, for some reason, your friend kept sucking at his Cupid moments and the people kept either running away (he would argue that ‘that just happened ONCE’ but it happened) or kindly (sometimes not so kindly) rejecting you.

And well, after some time bumping into eachother due to your countless visits to the boy’s apartment in hopes of running away from your own roomates, you could say you maybe sorta kinda developed a teenie tiny crush on his cute roomate. The moment you told to the boy with freckles, he did his weird magic.

And it turned out exactly as expected. Well, actually, Hyunjin didn’t really reject you personally.

Lix had aproached him while he was painting. He rejected the idea of going out with you. In a quite mean way. They had argued for a bit. He had frowned and at the end, left.

Over simplified, you had listened to Felix’s explanation of the situation, face pampered in confusion. Even though the Australian had said that Hyunjin had been in quite a mood for the past week, Yongbok had apologized till exahustion, until you insisted that he should just take his make up off and go to bed. After the lenses moment, he did.

Still, you didn’t leave. You could’t, not just yet.

Not like it was a big deal, but Hyunjin hadn't come back since he had left that afternoon, and it was getting late.

You wandered around in the kitchen, eating some almost-expired raspberries, just a tad worried about your bestie’s stupidly cute roomate. You then launched yourself into the sofa, scrolling through your feed when you saw it.

Hyunjin’s instagram shined back in blue light. You blinked, surprised. Hwang always kept blabbering about taking care of what he posted, even more than the art he made. According to Lix, Hyunjin had been a bit mad when he left, but something inside of you kept telling you that all hell would break loose if he realized what someone- cause there was no way in hell that the blond boy would post this. You shivered. It was a stack of pics on his stories. The first one, yeah, it was ok. The second one, yeah, he looked good- not that he looked bad in the first one. But the third one? Lord have mercy. A impulsive thought caresses your mind as you wondered ehat would the reaction be if you stroke those amazing abs with your tongue.

He had posted a picture which clearely screamed “I am drunk”, laughing like he would be unable to do so in a short time, eyes shaped like crescent moons and mouth almost wide open. And did I mention his white shirt was not only a bit messy and see-through, but also unbuttoned. As in, that chiseled chess table could be seen by all those people in wherever the hell he was, and now all of his followers too -and that wasn’t a small amount of people. He’d be crossed about it, sooner or later. And mad people were always a pain in the ass to deal with. And you liked the boy, lets be fair. You aproached the kitchen and starting preparing a special beberage that you uncle had taught you, one that knocked hangovers away and killed most of the dizziness away, plus a coffe for yourself. You knew you would need it.

For a moment, you thought it would feel weird. After all, its not like it was something that you would do for anyone, or that you expected the same treatment from him. You were just doing it because… well, because. For some reason it didn't feel odd, rather like something you could keep doing if you could help him, and also if that meant he wouldn't be angry at you. It didn’t hurt you if he was now, because you didn't really do anything to the boy with bleached locks, therefore couldn’t know how to make amends or start all over... still, trying to come up with an idea regarding how exactly to deal with it. You sighed, wonderind in your mind if you were just a loser waiting and caring for someone that had already rejected the idea of going out with you when suddenly, Hyunjin opened the door, coming back... a bit tipsy.

Well. Definetely more than just a bit, and more than tipsy. High-key drunk, to be honest. You pouted at the sight, but it didn’t surprise you. At least he remembered how to come back. You sighed a bit relieved, aproaching him. "You... you still here?" He mumbled messily, fighting hard to keep balance on those long legs of his. You looked down, fidgeting with your fingernairls.

"Yeah... I'm... sorry, I guess." "Maybe I should be saying that" he said insted, surprising you. You grinned soflty at him, seeing how hard he was trying to not collapse all over the floor. Yeah. High-key drunk for sure.

"C'mon, lets get you to bed. It's late." Suddenly he started retching, as if he was going to vomit. Oh, fuck. You turned pale, quickly taking him in front of the toilet as he started... well, you know.

"It's ok, better outside than inside." You tried joking as you kept some of his hair out of his way, and he smiled lightly, sitting against the cold tile wall as if it was the only thing that could save him.

You bit your lip as you settled your hand on his forehead, trying hard to ignore the massive 360° spin you stomach had made when Hyunjin smiled lazily, and the earthquake that remained when he leaned into the touch of your somewhat cold hand.

“Hey, Hyunjin. Are you cold or in pain?” You asked. For a moment you were glad that you never chose medecine as a career path. You were doing something great for the world when not putting yourself in these kind of situations. At least, that’s how you felt about it.

“Well,” he started wobbily, but with a solid confidence. “First of all, am I hot? Indoubtebly.” He stopped talking, and you nodded, thinking that was it and he was just drunk, but he continued. “Now, would throwing myself to an olympic swimming pool at -40°C while being punched in the guts resemble to my current state? Absolutely.”

“So you are drunk…” you tied your hair up in a messy bun. “And sick.” You cursed under your breath.

So. Sick people. Aid. C’mon brain, do your thing.

You looked at the mirror in the bathroom and the situation showed up in your mind sort of like a puzzle. Sat on the cold bathroom tile in your best friend’s appartment, with someone that had rejected a date with you sitting in front of you, a mix between yellow and white colors on his face as he started sweating and shivering.

“First, we need to sober you up. And shower, if possible.” You stood up. Looked at him. “Ok. We’ll most likely skip shower.”

You helped him stand back on his feet and you took him to his room. That was the first time you’d been there, but there would be some other time to be nosy, so you didn’t pay attention to it. Instead, Hyunjin had collapsed into the bed after your command, and as softly as you could started taking his shoes off, following with the jacket he was wearing. You emptied his pockets and left everything on the nightstand, not really looking into the contents, because your mind was screaming to you, something you didn’t quite know how to approach.

change his clothes.

You shook your head sideways. You’d do that later.

After taking the biggest container in the kitchen and leaving it next to the blond boy, you also managed to set a towel beneath him, in case he would wake up and vomit.

Because he had just fallen asleep. You smiled to yourself. Then the idea came back.

change his clothes.

You sighed. Bright red. Opened his closet. Took some random sweatpants. And then got closer to the sleepy man.

He was almost drooling, yet he still looked handsome as ever. Mind blank, you started unbuckling his belt.

don’t look, for the love of shit.

As quickly as you could, you unzipped and pulled his pants down, replacing them with the ones you’d taken fron the closet.

As you pretended that you hadn’t look at his cute bubble butt, you layed on the bed next to him, still as far as you could so you wouldn’t annoy him. After laying a damp cloth on his forehead, you fell asleep with him.

[…]

It felt like too soon, and it probably was. But Hyunjin had woken up, sweating, eyes bluntly opened, and overall scared.

“Hey,” you cooed. “Hey, little prince, its okay.” You approaced him, caressing his damaged but soft blond hair. “I’m right here. It’s ok.”

He was still looking at the celing, as if he hadn’t listened to what you’d just said when he started gagging again. You quickly turned him as he vomited inside the container you’d picked up before. Such a smartass, Felix would’ve said.

“I’m… sorry.” Hyunjin said.

“Hey, it’s ok. It was just a fever dream. I’m here. Go back to sleep, ok?”

He looked at you, eyes glossy as your heart ached for a second. He raised his hands to his features quickly. He looked… frustrated? As if he didn’t know how to react or respond?

“God, you’re just…” You looked at him, a hint of amusement in your eyes as you waited for him to continue. “…insane.”

Well that you didn’t expect, for sure. It was such a weird thing to say. Which you commented, and he just laughed kind of breathlessly.

“I’ve been feeling like shit for the past weeks. I’d need to apologize to Lix later… I took it out on both of you. I’m sorry.”

“You know you can talk to either of us when you need, Hyun. Don’t worry about it, I get it, shit happens.”

“It’s just that… well one thing stupid lead to another, I was already having a bad day, and then I got called… Kkami, my dog, he… he might need to go through surgery. I know, it’s not… there are worse things, but…” his hands were covering his eyes.

You almost launched yourself to him, trying to hug away all of his sadness and worry. “Don’t belittle what makes you feel things, Jin. If it makes you feel something, then its important.” He slipped his arms around me and pushed you just enough so you remained as close to him as you could, your legs tangled around his.

“But I was mean to you and Felix. And I- I don’t… that’s not what I want..” His big hands cupped your face, and you followed with one of them almost automatically.

“Don’t get you tiddies in a twist, Prince.” You giggled, he snorted. “It’s ok for you to feel things, and if you know you did wrong then say it. End of story.”

“Still, I lied… Your face is red. Did I make you mad?”

Fuck, exposed. “No, Hyun. I’m happy that you trust me.”

He tsked. “If it wasn’t for my big mouth, right now I could do other things. Like dating you.”

“Jin, this a proposition?” You giggled jokingly.

“It’s a warning.”

“Go to sleep, little prince.” You snorted. “Repeat your words tomorrow, sober, and you might get lucky.”

You were bluffing.

Like, 85% joking. Couldn’t believe for a fact that the drunk, caring man that fell asleep beneath you was being honest.

But surprises happened, and this time, it happened sideways.

“A package for Mr. Hwang?”

“Yes. It’s here, thank you!” You mentioned, slipping past Hyunjin’s confused manner and smiled to the delivery man.

“What-?”

“Got you a new paint cleaning set! You…” You rubbed your neck, sheepishly. “You mumble when you sleep, and you said something about needing one… In my defense… eh… I have nothing to say in my defense, I just…”

You would’ve kept on rambling if it werent for some strawberry flavoured lips on yours. It was barely for a second, but it made your whole body reset for a good solid second.

You looked at him as red as the jacket he was wearing.

“Sorry. You’re cute when you don’t mean to, couldn’t resist myself.” He was biting his bottom lip, one you were wishing was against your own.

“Excuse you, little Prince. Take me for a date first.” You joked, in an unkown attempt of picking up yourself from the shock or something.

He smiled, siren eyes looking deeply entertained. “Lets go to my art studio down the street. And yeah, shortcake, its a date.”

well, point for Felix. That was a first.

soft hours

[bhaalsdeepbat]

In the vein of embracing the darkness and kinda owning it, I imagine Redeemed Durge x Spawn Astarion would have viciousness punctuated by tender loving care. Like, turning a Bounty job into a fun little hunt, giving into predator instinct and enjoying the thrill and adrenaline. Durge holding someone still while Astarion gets his fill, then gleefully ending it. They both just appreciate one another's prowess.

Then they're heading back to wherever they're staying, lingering touches and stolen kisses exchanged along the way, then they topple into bed before the sun can even peek over the horizon. Their limbs are locked, bodies pressed, secure and proud of the way they wield their combined strength. Just cuddles while basking in one another.

[hitsuyou-fukaketsu]

oohhh royal knight in training subaru and prince hokke oohhghh

[till-you-scream-and-cry]

the most beautiful creature on this planet

[valhargreeves]

I think it's cool how sandman artists and writers portray both Dream and Corinthian differently in their own style, there's this unique kind of taste that when you see or read them, you can tell like "oh, this is writer A's Dream!" And I don't mean it in negative way. But I think the variation is very beautiful.

[rainingmusic]

Chris Isaak - Dancin' 

[gutsfics]

HOOTING AND HOLLERING

[askmiii]

Warning ⚠️: degradation, choking, a little dub con in the beginning, toxic toxic toxic

18+

____________________________________________

He was cold.

Nicol thrusted his fingers into your hole, his face expressionless. He had been doing this for over twenty minutes now. You didn't like being edged but who were you to say no to the Nicol Ascart? So you complied. His thumb reached up to circle your clit and you felt your body jerk.

"Cum," he said in his soft voice.

You muffled your scream into your right hand as you climaxed, back arching. All you could see was black, then your back settled comfortably onto the desk, chest still heaving. You could feel Nicol remove his fingers. The sound of his footsteps followed after, then the sound of the door closing. You were alone now.

It's been like this for the past three weeks. Nicol would drag you into an isolated place, touch you, make you feel good, embarrassed, pathetic. He'd make you scream for him, cum for him, then he'd leave and act as if nothing happened.

Nicol had rules. Don't touch him, don't say his name, don't cum unless told to. Outside your little association he didn't like when you talked to him in front of others, and if you dared to utter a word of what happened between you two in private... well you wouldn't want to know.

You wanted to hate Nicol Ascart. In short and curt words; he was plainly mean. At least to you he was. When with others, you saw the little smiles that tugged on his face. The small chuckles and the slight but loving gestures he made to them. You didn't know why you were never the one to receive any of these gestures.

"I don't want to do this anymore." You told Nicol.

He looked up at you, his three fingers plunged in your hole. It was fifth period and he had you pushed up against the lockers half naked.

He didn't touch you after that. He didn't even glance at you. You should be happy, right? This is what you wanted, right?

Maybe it was your newfound frustration that lead you to make this reckless decision, but here you were drunk and alone at Prince Geordo's after-party still thinking about all of this. You shouldn't have came. You weren't the type, and you didn't have any friends that could drive you home, but you didn't care. You wanted to forget about him. You wanted to let loose, feel free, and not have a care in the world.

It was working a little. You were feeling good. The music was loud. Your hands traveled up and down your body as you swayed back and forth. That all went out the window when your eyes landed on a particular dark-haired male in the middle of the dance floor. A stunning brunette had her ass against him, his face stoic as always.

You felt something ignite in the pit of your stomach. You didn't know what it was.

"Y/N?"

You turned your head to the individual who called your name. You shook your head twice to make sure you weren't imagining things.

"Prince Geordo?" You asked as you stumbled back; the alcohol was doing a take on your body.

He pulled you close.

"Careful there. Now what's a good girl like you doing here?" Geordo asked gently.

You frowned.

"Mmm' not good," you barely mumbled out.

Geordo chuckled.

"Let me get someone to take you home, okay?"

You were listening to him but your eyes were trained on the two individuals on the dance floor. The brunette was now whispering something into Nicol's ear. Your eyes twitched when his hand ran down her back.

"No," you replied to Geordo.

"Y/N—" Geordo started but before he could finish, your lips latched onto his.

You couldn't help it. They looked so pink and plump.

He tasted like Vodka.

Your hands began to roam his body slowly making sure he wanted it. He didn't stop you. You started at his ear, the nape, caressed down his chest, all the way to his belt.

"Y/N" Geordo warned, his voice dangerously lower.

"Ssshhhh. I can handle it," you whispered into his ear.

He groaned.

"Let me make you feel good," you begged.

A violent pull by the wrist ripped you away from the blond prince. You knew exactly who it was. You felt half disappointed and half relieved.

"Let me go, Nicol!" You screamed as he dragged you across a grassy lawn. You two were far away from the party now. You had no idea where he was taking you.

He stopped dead in his tracks and glowered down at you. You almost whimpered.

"When did I say you could call me by my name?"

His voice came out in a menacing tone.

Your fear disappear and a frown deepened on your face. You weren't going to let him scare you. Nicol took up the challenge; he pushed you onto the grass. He was practically sitting on top of you, his right hand holding both your arms above your head, and his left hand choking your neck.

"Fucking slut, brat, whore..." he began degrading you while looking straight into your eyes.

You began to tear up a little at all the insults he threw at you while thrashing violently under him. He was so mean, yet oddly enough you liked it. You began to press your thighs together as he continued; you were becoming aroused.

"Maybe I'll just take you right here, right now, for anyone to see and hear. You would like that wouldn't you? Yes you would, considering how you were about to fuck my best friend in front of everyone."

Another tear slipped out of your eye as he continued.

"And you had the nerve to tell me you didn't want me anymore? Why? Because you thought you could do better? What? You wanted a Prince? Remember this and remember it well, you will never be anything more than MY cumdoll."

He released his left hand from your neck and you quickly gasped for all the air you could.

You glared at Nicol, your eyes red and teary from the crying. God were you pretty like that.

"That's it. I can't take it anymore. Take off your panties," he ordered.

You didn't understand why he told you to do it, because his hands were already reaching under your skirt, pulling the tiny fabric off.

"Wait—"

But he was already spreading your legs.

"Not here," you pleaded looking around hoping no one was near.

Nicol didn't care. He was busy taking his own pants off.

Your eyes widened at his naked half. You had never seen his bare bottom half before.

He hovered over you, his anger was all gone now. He looked vulnerable almost.

"Do you want to touch me?" He asked softly.

There was a moment of silence. You didn't know if he was testing you. He had never done or asked anything like this before. Your hands hesitantly and slowly made their way to his face. You caressed his cheeks carefully and smiled unconsciously when he closed his eyes wanting to focus on your touch.

Nicol opened his eyes again and scrunched them together "I want to put it in, is that okay?"

You gulped.

"It's your first time, isn't it?" He asked.

You nodded.

"It's going to hurt. Tell me to stop if it's too painful, okay?"

He pulled something out of his pocket and wrapped it over his cock as you stared in wonder.

"I'll teach you how to do that another time. Stay still now."

He was right, it was painful.

"Does it hurt?" He whispered worriedly.

You nodded.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked.

"No," you said pulling the collar on his shirt.

Soon enough the pain drifted, it started to feel blissful. As the thrusts became harder so did your moans.

"Ah! Ah! Nnngh—" your eyes were rolling back.

He was hitting a spot you didn't know you had. You were both about to burst, you could feel it.

"Need you to touch me princess, say my name, hug me tight, I'm gonna fuck you so good, I'm gonna make you feel so good, gonna make you my princess, your mine-Ah!"

Your bodies twitched and you screamed as you felt an overwhelming sensation you had never felt before. Nicol collapsed on top of you mumbling incoherent things about the things he was going to do with you after this. You weren't paying attention.

All you were focused on was the good feeling and the blinking stars above you two.

[sharkie-stay]

Omg Arthur sulking and venting to Merlin while looking like a kicked puppy :c

[wishingprince]

Thinking gently about how I have had bad gacha pulls for Leo almost the entire time I have played enstars but his Blue Filament and his second FS both came to me last year. 💖