#⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ɢᴏᴊᴏᴅᴀɢᴏᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴏɴʟɪɴᴇ .ᐟ

[salaimoi]

cw: teacher x student trope. highly suggestive. cheating.

Gojo's teacher's pet reader who is failing her Japanese language class miserably. Gojo-sensei would teach her the basics of Hiragana and Katakana, but when it came to Kanji… it was a whole different story. You’d sit on your desk, legs crossed under your all-too-short school skirt — a pouty expression on your plush pink lips as you frowned at the symbols before you. 

Gojo's teacher's pet reader who would be too distracted by her teacher’s unrivaled physique to even pay attention to a thing he said. Innocently day dreaming about your teacher wasn’t a crime, was it? Biting down on your pen, your imagination ran wild with the possibilities. Oh, how delectable he looked in his everyday attire…to think he’d look even better with your nail polish digging at his flesh. 

Gojo's teacher's pet reader who would sit on her teacher’s lap when asking for help. You were only testing the waters though, strategically positioning yourself on the edge of his knee to see what his reaction would be. At first, he pretended not to notice what your intentions were, so he continued to explain the symbols you swore looked like hieroglyphics. But somehow his hand found itself latched around your waist a few minutes later. “Oh, how’d that get there?” He joked, a sultry undertone to his voice. If you were going to play dumb, he’d play right along with you. 

Gojo's teacher's pet reader who slowly leaned back onto his chest, the scent of her perfume engulfing his senses in the process. Gojo’s eyes couldn’t help but wander, eyeing that porcelain skin you so carelessly paraded around school for everyone to see. His hand gradually slid down your thigh until he reached the hem of your skirt, looking to get a taste of the forbidden fruit you put on display just for him. His chin rested against the warmth of your shoulder, mouth threatening to water at the sight of his favorite student sitting on his lap while she relished in the sensation of his hand gropping the squishy skin of her thighs. 

Gojo's teacher's pet reader who "inconspicuously” rocked back and forth against her teacher’s leg to ease the aching uproar in between her legs, each delayed thrust hitting the sweet spot that craved attention the most.

Gojo's teacher's pet reader who silently took care of her urges during class on more than one occasion without her teacher noticing — or so she thought he didn’t.

Gojo's teacher's pet reader who loved booking him for tutoring every chance she got. You got to see him every other week, making sure to wear skimpy clothes under the pretext that it was laundry day. He’d awkwardly smile, rubbing his undercut nervously as he stepped foot into your home, praying no one saw him doing so. 

Gojo's teacher's pet reader who finally managed to turn their last tutoring session into something more. Your student-teacher relationship blossomed into a forbidden one, meticulously kept under wraps per Gojo’s request. 

Gojo's teacher's pet reader who fooled around with him in between classes, fucking in sin every chance they got. Most of their fun was spent on his desk, directly on top of the papers he was supposed to be grading. It ticked you off, though — how he told you you were so special but were nothing more than a well-kept secret.

Gojo's teacher's pet reader who was lectured by her mentor on the repercussions of their relationship if it were to become known.

Gojo's teacher's pet reader who didn’t care about grades anymore, all she wanted was to be called his lady, but the day never came. 

Gojo's teacher's pet reader who finally understood why he always pushed her away on weekends; he had a wife and kids. What a perfect family they were in hindsight, holding hands as they strolled around the park together. But why were they holding hands as if you didn’t exist in the first place? 

Gojo's teacher's pet reader who boiled with fury, wanting nothing more than to light him on fire. Was everything they went through nothing more than a mistake he regretted? He was your only desire, the only man you had eyes for, and it all came tumbling down before you faster than it had begun. 

notes: ib a ‘teacher’s pet’ by melanie martinez edit my wife @luvvsoft sent <33

[salaimoi]

first story from my new, ongoing series: talk to me nice. feel free to leave any constructive criticism! (I can handle it, unlike Gojo)

"Look, I didn't ask for your stupid advice, so don't pretend like you know everything."

Gojo hissed at you, nearly popping a vein from how smug you were being right now.

The only thing you suggested was that he stop dressing like somebody’s grandpa all the time – he had a physique carved by the gods themselves, why not put it to use? Such a waste, honestly.

"Mm~ whatever. So sassy," you replied, followed by an eye roll violent enough to nearly cause your eyes to fall clean off your skull. “Ever heard of constructive criticism?”

"Yeah, yeah. You know, instead of just giving me advice all the time, why don't you compliment me for once? You know, say something nice about me — it's not that hard. "

"Me? Compliment you? Gojo please. Unless you wire me every single yen in your bank account, you won't hear a single praise come out of this mouth.”

Even though he himself felt very frustrated right now, he couldn't stop himself from enjoying the banter – so much so that he would begin to grin as he tried to control himself from bursting out laughing. You were playing a dangerous game here because he could actually make this deal happen, and you were perfectly aware of that — but despite that, you were still trying to push his buttons and he’d make you eat your words because of it.

"You know what, I think I will actually do just that. So let me ask you, what happens when I send over every yen in my bank account, will you genuinely compliment yours truly?" he smirks in that usual arrogant manner, growing more and more interested by the second. "I better get my money’s worth, you know."

Still thinking he was bluffing, you replied, "Obviously. But you only get one compliment."

"Humm~ fine, and it better be the most heart shattering compliment in the history of compliments — soul crushing even. Now, I'll go ahead and transfer you the money," he paused for a moment before remembering something rather important. 

"I need your bank account number to wire the money."

"W-wait … you're not serious are you?”

"Why would I lie? I’m serious about this and you'll also be serious about your part, got it? So I need that bank account number now."

"Are you insane!? I was only kidding, genius!"

"Maybe I am, but I'm doing this because I really want your compliment. So don't try to discourage me because for every minute we spend arguing here, I'm losing my patience.”

And it wasn’t like he needed your flattery; he just wanted to hear you sing his praises as a contrast to your usual behavior. You were always so cold and apathetic around him, but he knew that wasn’t the real you — and he took it upon himself to reveal the side you buried under that stoic facade. 

“So just tell me your bank account number and I'm going to transfer the money to your account right now — the full 59 billion."

Your body froze in utter shock as you realized he was dead serious. Straightening yourself on the mattress, your mouth hung wide open — staring at him in disbelief. The realization of it all was enough to cause one of your eyes to twitch in perplexity.

"Gojo you must've lost your mind if you think I'm gonna accept that,” you scoffed at how insufferable he really was, but secretly loving every second of it. "Who in their right mind would spend ¥59 billion on one compliment?"

"Only people who can afford it, of course,” he smirks cynically, tossing his phone up into the air just for it to land right back onto his palm. “If you ask me, ¥59 billion is too small a price for a compliment directly out of that pretty mouth of yours.” 

“You’re insufferable. For fucks sake, you should have a mental disorder named after you.”

“But you can't actually deny that I'm pretty charming, can you? You might not show a hint of  affection, but I think it's pretty obvious that you like my insufferable attitude. Or are you gonna deny that you don't?"

He unlocked his phone, opening the banking app and going into the transfer section.

You didn’t hesitate to smack the phone out of his hand, causing it to fall down on the bed. 

"Satoru, are you even listening to me!!??"

"Heh~ you're actually quite impressive when you finally get serious. You were really quick there with that tiny hand of yours.”

“This tiny hand of mine will be enclosing around your neck until you’re out of oxygen if you continue to act like an unsupervised child with access to money.”

His expression was thoughtful for a few seconds before he pointed at you, flashing his pearly whites.

"You know, you're actually pretty attractive when you get all aggressive like that. It really looks cute on you. I don't know if I can actually handle someone who's this much of a pain in the ass but still has a cute side to her."

He chortles, leaning back on the headboard before continuing, "See? That’s how you compliment someone, wasn’t that hard now was it? Now you do it.”

Your eyes narrow, two fingers rubbing at your temples as you contemplate the situation.

"You know what. Fine. If you want to recklessly spend your money like this, I'll give you what you want. No comment until I see that money in my bank account, though."

This reply made him burst out laughing, his grin becoming a bit bigger and he began to speak with a playful tone.

"Alright, if you say so. But just remember, it'll be too late to back out after I've already sent the money…”

[One new notification: direct deposit from Gojo Satoru received. New balance: ¥59,000,000,000.024.]

"..."

“Don’t you have anything to say?”

"...you have nice eyes?"

"..."

"..."

“I want a refund right this instant, y/n.”

[salaimoi]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ Jealousy Jealousy ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

pairing: gojo satoru x fem! reader with superiority complex

synopsis: gojo won’t give up pursuing a one-night stand with you, but you’ve made it clear you’re not that type of girl; he only sees that as resolve to make you his.

content: light smut, jealousy, controlling tendencies, mentions of sexual themes.

wc: 2,790

No one ever understood your relationship with Gojo Satoru for multiple reasons. For starters, he was the Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer alive and the most coveted man among the female populace. That said, who the hell were you and more importantly, how did you manage to become his girlfriend? These were the same two questions everyone who caught a glimpse of you two holding hands in public asked themselves without fail. You always overheard the murmurs; continuously noticed the stares, but you pretended you didn't.

After all, it was you who pleased him to his heart's content every night—not them. It was you who forced him to throw in the towel every so often because your hunger and desire were boundless when it came to Satoru. He always caved and satisfied you, even when he didn't have anything left in him anymore, but you always wanted more. Satoru adored that about you more than he'd ever like to admit.

He took pride in his ability to please women, always boasting that there wasn't a woman alive that could keep up with him to his friends. Until you came along. The moment he laid his cerulean colored eyes on you he had one single thought on his mind: “I'm going to ruin her.”

Boy was he wrong. Little did he know you were a scheming minx who prided herself in forcing men to bend to her will. You made this crystal clear when you two met as well.

Usually, any woman who even got as much as a glimpse of Satoru would go berserk. It was different with you though. No matter how much jewelry, money, expensive clothes, or other materialistic gifts he threw in your face, he could never manage to coax you into his arms.

You weren't a gold digger either; you simply had no interest whatsoever in men who flaunted their money to impress you. The only way to your heart was by being worshiped like the goddess you knew you were.

It wasn't like Satoru hadn’t been informed of this since the moment you became acquainted; he was merely putting it to the test. This was due to the fact that he had a hard time believing any woman could resist his charms and good looks, so he took it upon himself to prove you wrong.

“What do you mean you don't believe me?” you replied with a smug look.

“Yeah, I think you're full of shit. How do you continuously turn away a night filled with passion with someone like me every time I come over?” Satoru responded while flexing his muscles, his body leaning towards you so that you could get a clear view of his toned body.

You have had this conversation a million times before. He always came knocking at your door, letting himself in before you could even invite him inside. He would then begin offering you what he considered the deal of a lifetime: sex with him. You always said no, but in his head he must've heard, “Not right now; try again later, my beautiful blue-eyed king!”

“Someone like you? What do you mean by that?” you repeated in confusion.

“I mean someone as handsome as me—irresistible as well.” Satoru replied with a complacent grin on his face.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, already knowing where this conversation was headed. “And? Just because you're attractive doesn't mean I'm gonna drop my panties at your beck and call. I value myself more than that— I don't know if you do.”

“Excuse me!? Are you calling me a man-whore??” he riposted with a stunned expression.

He couldn't believe she had the nerve to insult him in such a manner. It wasn't that he felt offended; if anything, he felt challenged by her remarks.

“Never did I use such a vulgar word when I answered you, ‘toru. If you're becoming this defensive it must be because you know my words hold some truth to them.”

Gojo remained silent for a moment. He knew both your comments were true but he would never admit it. All the attention he got from women was the food that fueled his ego. The fact that someone like you would defy him like this was only hurting his amour propre.

Why did she keep turning him down? Was it because his good looks were starting to fade away? No, that couldn't be it. He had just finished dicking down a girl he met for the first time an hour before he got here. He had only come over to your house right after because that interaction had him feeling invincible.

If he could sway a stranger into sleeping with him then why the hell couldn't he coax you into it as well? You were giving him a run for his money and he hated it. Still, that wasn't gonna stop him from pursuing you.

“Oh don't be like that, tell me what it is I need to do so you'll give me the time of day and I'll do it.” he responded with a dulcet tone, in hopes that his words would persuade you. He was internally kicking himself for even saying those words out loud.

“Why are you so obsessed with this whole thing? Are you trying to prove something to yourself by getting me into bed? I already told you it takes more than a silver tongue to make that happen.”

Gojo let out a sigh of disappointment laced with annoyance. His patience was languishing by the second but he knew that he had to get a clear answer out of her.

Deep down he knew she loved the cat and mouse game they had going on. If she didn't, she would've kicked him to the curb by now, but she kept him around despite his numerous failed attempts to pursue her.

He had tried everything: paying for her nail appointments, buying her pricey clothes and shoes, taking her to luxurious restaurants, and even gifting her the latest technology.

Even after all this, he always got turned down and he would sulk all the way back home like a wounded puppy with his tail between his legs. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't catching actual romantic feelings for you after spending so much time with you. In all actuality he had tried everything except one thing.

“Mmm—do I need to beg?” he asked in a defeated tone.

“Yes. On your knees actually.”

“You can't be serious.”

“Do I look like I'm joking?” you replied with a snarky tone. Your words did have some bantering undertones to them, but the only reason you said them was because you knew he would never beg. Maybe this way he'd finally give up trying to sweet talk you into a one-night stand with him.

“Oh my god. You're horrible for even suggesting something like that.”

“There's the door if my suggestion displeases you.”

“I didn't say I wasn't gonna do it.” he raked his hands through his lustrous white mane in frustration before continuing. “Damn it–you better not tell anyone about this!”

“Don't tell me what to do.” you retorted.

It seemed as if he was committed to begging after all. You weren't expecting it, but everyone has a breaking point after all. Now, if he was going to give you a show, you were sure to enjoy it and even store the video on your phone as memorabilia. You reached over to the back pocket of your denim jeans and pulled out your lilac pink-cased phone that Gojo himself gifted you not too long ago.

*ding* an ostentatious chime reverberated across the room as you pressed the record button on your phone. At least that's how Gojo discerned it as he stood there witnessing first hand how you continued to belittle him. As luck would have it, he found this utterly appeasing for some unknown reason.

“Damn–she really has no interest in sparing my feelings even after a year of us knowing each other.” he thought internally. He huffed a small breath through his nose before placing one knee firmly on the ground followed by the other.

His body almost seemed to be moving in slow motion as he processed what he was doing. He continued by pressing his palms together firmly in a begging gesture.

All of this was borderline ridiculous to him, but he had no room to complain after it was him who spent a year gifting her pretentiously exorbitant items to sway her. Gojo took one last deep breath before picking his head up and giving you a facial expression that pleaded for your approval.

“Please—may I have the pleasure of having you tonight? I would be the most exultant man on Earth if you would grant me this opportunity. I swear that I'll cherish it with every fiber in my body. I'll make it my mission to please you like no one ever has. Please grant this starving fool his only wish. I beg of you.”

The chime from your phone sounded once more as you ended the video, placing the phone into your back pocket once more. You let out a mischievous taunting grin as Gojo’s imploring declaration was exactly what you wanted to hear.

Seeing him on his knees and supplicating for your attention was everything you stood for. This was what you were put on this Earth to do.

However, as enticing as his words were, you weren't satisfied. Sure his commitment to the act was alluring, but you weren't a one-night stand girl. He was either fully committed to you or nothing.

“Nope—I don't do one-night stands, sorry.” you retaliated while looking down at him in a condescending manner.

“Then be my girlfriend.” he replied without hesitation. He picked himself up from the floor and walked towards you, meaning every word he said.

“I thought you didn't do relationships, Mr. Promiscuous.”

It was true. He never committed to relationships for more than half a year. Why did he have to constrain himself to one woman after all? He could have anyone he wanted so why settle?

At least that's what he thought before meeting you. Maybe it was your taunting nature, or your sense of superiority over him that drove him to defy this ideology within him.

“Fuck that—I don't want anyone else. I'll marry you right now if that will make you believe that I'm serious about this. I'm tired of the back and forth. Be mine and mine only for the rest of eternity.”

—

Not only had you procured his love and affection, but you also managed to unveil his jealous side along the way. Satoru swore he wasn't jealous; he was only looking out for his girlfriend. This was the same excuse he used over and over again due to the fact that admitting he was jealous would mean admitting he felt insecure.

He had fought tooth and nail to get you to say yes to being his girlfriend, almost milking his bank account dry along the way for you. Not that it inconvenienced him.

He wasn't about to let any peasant near you and let them think they had a chance with you. After all, he made himself believe that you looked a million times more alluring than you did before you guys met because of what he invested in you.

“I told you to stay the fuck out of my phone Satoru!” you spoke spitefully. This was the thousandth time you had to whisk your phone away from your boyfriend’s hands. No matter how many times he snooped through it and you lectured him, he wouldn't let the habit die.

Gojo rolled his cerulean eyes at you in vehement. He then crossed his arms as he sat on the white velvet sofa in your house, something he also paid for.

“Whatever. Don't think I didn't see that provocative picture in your camera roll that I haven't received yet. I better see it on my phone by the end of the day. Who the hell are you taking those for anyway??”

“You're so fucking insufferable. That was supposed to be a surprise for you later. You just spoiled your own gift you dumbass.”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widened in shock as he realized what he just did. All because of his inability to stay out of your phone. He swiftly got up from the couch and walked towards you from behind, placing his arms around your waist and swaying you side to side.

“Awww I can pretend I didn't see anything, pretty girl. You know I meant no harm.” his breath tickling your skin as he planted soft kisses on your neck. “What's this? You're not wearing the necklace I got you?”

“I sold it.” you retorted.

“Please, you'd never sell anything I ever gifted you. You still have the candy wrappers from the first candies I ever gifted you.”

“Shut up–I just let my friend borrow it for her date. I think I'll let her keep it.”

“And why is that?”

“Well~” you reply before turning your body around to face your boyfriend, placing your arms around his neck. “I think it's only fair you got me a new one after the stunt you pulled yesterday.”

Satoru knew exactly what you were talking about. You had gone out to lunch together and he pulled one of his jealous acts again. Except this time he did it in public, something you completely despised.

You didn't mind his proprietorial attitude towards you simply because he always atoned for it by fucking your brains out. You always went from shrieking his name in a reprimanding manner to moaning it in less than an hour.

Yesterday was different however, your male friend had approached you to say hi with no ill intentions. Howbeit, Satoru didn't feel the same way.

He felt like your “conversation” with your little friend was taking too long and that he was ogling you with prurient eyes.

After surmising this, he got up from his seat and dragged you out of the restaurant by your wrist. Your wrists aching in torture as his grasp prompted the diamond bracelet to dig into your skin. You knew the scene that would follow if you protested; you simply let him haul you to the car.

“Have you lost your fucking mind Satoru??” you jerked your arm back and massaged your throbbing wrist as he was opening the door to shove you inside. “I was having a conversation with my friend before you barbarically manhandled me, you dick.”

“Your friend clearly wanted more than just a conversation with you. Don't act dumb with me.” he retaliated.

Although he was livid, he knew not to ever maul you with such heedlessness, but this occasion was disparate from all the others. He vigorously jostled you into the car and slammed the door. Before you could even say anything, he hastened over to the driver’s side and situated himself behind the wheel. His seething expression felt as if you were the one in the wrong here. He was quite literally foaming at the mouth as he refrained from yelling at you.

The conversation only escalated from there until you demanded that he drop you off home. You didn’t speak to each other for the rest of the night—until he came over in the morning to pry into your phone.

Now you were here—coaxing him into buying you another necklace simply because you felt like it. All you had to do was bat your prepossessing eyelashes at him a few times; he always succumbed to your antics.

You bring your hands up behind his neck, slowly trailing them into his silky hair. A mischievous smirk emerging from your lips as you processed the notion of having the strongest sorcerer at the palm of your hands.

Satoru’s hand kept a light touch on your body as he trailed it to the side of your ribs, cupping your breasts amorously as you stood in front of him. His hands groping the fat in your boobs ardently. It had been weeks since you last handed your body over to him; he had only himself to blame for that, his demanding behavior was beginning to irk your nerves. Seeing you in that low-cut lace satin shirt only aggrandized his sexual appetite for you. He had to feel you tighten around him no matter the cost. He’d even settle with fingering you at these altitudes.

“For you, I’d purchase the entire jewelry store, princess.” he finally answered.

He had actually attempted that on multiple occasions, but you always stopped him.

“Tell me what it is your heart desires and I’ll arrange for it.”

ꨄauthors notes: hihi! this is my first time ever writing a fanfic feel free to leave any constructive feedback! hope you enjoyed <33

[salaimoi]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ thank you. ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

short fluffy gojo satoru x fem reader for a change ᵔᴗᵔ

wc: 363

Satoru always knew just what to say when you were on your period—aching with cramps and headaches. you’d usually tough it out and refuse to take any medicine to aid with the pain and that bothered him.

he knew you refused to take them so you wouldn’t seem “weak” in front of him. you could’ve lost an arm in the most brutal way but you would still put up a front for him.

he’d plant small kisses on your forehead while he massaged your shoulders and repeated a million i love you’s. he was too caring for his own good, putting others over him—especially you—because he had a soft spot for his pretty girl.

you were the epitome of divinity in his eyes. your aura alone made you irresistible to someone like him—someone who didn’t believe in love because it never ended the same way it did in the movies. he always witnessed how the guy got the girl, and they lived happily ever after, but that never happened to him—until you.

the heavens must have finally smiled upon him for a change when you bumped into him that fated day and spilled fresh roasted coffee on his expensive clothes. the embarrassed smile that adorned your face as you apologized to him for being so careless—the redness stained your face like paint to a canvas. he reassured it was okay, but you knew deep down that you made yourself look like a fool in front of such a handsome man like satoru.

ever since that day, you made sure to not let him see you in such a vulnerable state because of how passive he became around you. he never said no to you or even raised his voice at you—you were too precious to him for him to do so.

you were his everything. you planted a kidney bean that later sprouted inside him, turning all his hatred and bitterness into love and benevolence.

he could spend a thousand years thanking you for doing so, but even then it wouldn’t be enough. you personified the promise that things would get better when he was beginning to fall into despair.

you saved him.

[salaimoi]

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ goodbye, my love.

wc: 267

short gojo satoru angst. if I can’t be happy no one can

Satoru’s hand rested on your soft damp cheek as he cradled you against his chest, unable to tranquilise your ululating weeping.

Your sobbing had gone on for about an hour now; there was no sign of it stopping soon. All Satoru could do was hold you in his arms; hoping it was enough for you.

His touch felt faint—cold even.

It was almost like it wasn’t there—because it wasn’t.

Satoru was gone.

The aching thought causes your mind to collapse on itself. You gripped the sheets in agony. A screeching squeal escapes your lips—similar to that of an animal being slaughtered.

It couldn’t be true. The man who comforted you through your darkest moments couldn’t be gone.

No—he was still here right? He was about to walk through that door and hug you so tight until you collapsed from the lack of air right? Right?

He broke his promises. He promised to take you out for dinner. He promised to show you his favorite movie for the thousandth time.

He lied.

All that was left was the lingering memory of his soft voice replaying in your mind. The way his touch always made your skin tingle. His words constantly comforting you when life was kicking you around like a ball.

He was the candy in your salt pond.

And just like that, the world took what you held dearest to your already severed heart. Snatched it away with no remorse. Was the universe laughing in your face?

You were tightly hugging the shirt he wore to bed last night—hoping he’d magically emerge from the fabric.

He wouldn’t.

[salaimoi]

i wave goodbye to the end of beginning ˚. ✦.˳· ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem reader sypnosis: he wasn’t what you desired anymore, but he couldn’t let you go. months passed since your bitter breakup, and yet, he didn’t stop loving you for a second. cw: slow burn. angst for the sake of angst. falling out of love for no reason fr. unrequited love. alcohol consumption (gojo only) no happy ending me thinks, or maybe somewhat. who knows word count: 3.1k

author's notes: i’m mourning gojo and so should you! so here’s a piece of an angsty fic that’s been rotting, unfinished, in my drafts since march 29. i was only gonna post a sneak peek of this and suddenly the holy spirit took over me and drove me to finally finish it??? IF U EVER READ ANYTHING OF MINE PLEASE LET IT BE THIS😭😭i’m so in love with the reader crying scene u don’t get it. the metaphors?! i outdid myself. i am so terrified of the deep ocean, and the fact that i find myself writing about it during angsty hours says a lot about me. i can’t emphasize how much i adore this fic. i just love angst sm idkidkidk

also, this is my first time attempting angst for the sake of angst as well as slow burn (?) so idk if i’ll ever come back to this. not beta read.

Time and again, this mahogany dining table was the scene of numerous heartwarming interactions – mementos Satoru wouldn’t be able to replicate a second time, even if he spent a thousand lifetimes trying to do so. Sure, it was more than easy to recreate the scene, but not the genuine warmth the two of you felt in that moment. He could go to great lengths, such as hand-crafting every single piece of furniture in the room that bore witness – carving and polishing wood until his palms became more splinters than skin. But even then, he wouldn’t come close to reliving any of those gratifying sentiments from so long ago.

All the shared laughter at his trivial attempts at comedy had caught up to you; your smiles were forced lately, and he could tell. He possessed that diamond-blue, six-eyed gaze which consistently made you feel as if he could undeniably read your thoughts, but that wasn’t the case. Even a blind person could discern the unforeseen shift in your comportment toward him, and due to this, Satoru questioned himself relentlessly. 

What if he’d said something to offend you? What if he left the toilet seat up one too many times for your liking? What if he began snoring in bed but you were too considerate to say anything about it? What if he forgot a special date? What if he tried to offer you something you were allergic to? 

What if he stopped being the love of your life...? 

It seemed as if, in a fraction of a second, all the enjoyment you once felt had deserted you, and with it, your love for him. Had you forgotten how happy you were by his side all in the spawn of a few hours, or was this the universe’s twisted interpretation of a joke?

Even if it was, you weren’t laughing.

You told yourself it was fine, that it was a mere wave of sadness that would soon pass, but instead the harmless tide you paid no mind to had brutally swept your body into a sea of despair. Before you could process your predicament, the shoreline was well out of sight – blurring with the deep blue expanse of the oceanic abyss that enveloped your mind.

The longer you fought to stay afloat, the clearer the path became for the briny water to replace the oxygen in your lungs, giving you no choice but to drown as everything around you became a pitch-black, bottomless pit – devoid of any sense of worry for you. 

It was rather often that you were accused of abandoning the ship when things got bad, and yet, here you were – submerging along with it.  

How ironic.

Even he couldn’t save you now. The solace his mere presence bestowed upon you when you needed it most wasn’t there anymore. There was no more capability of initiating conversations with him when you were the only other person in the room, causing the once-upbeat and soothing environment to give way to one of silence and uncertainty; it was as thick as syrup.

Syrup. The sugary taste of it from when you consumed it during breakfast was all but replaced by a repugnant, sour one in your mouth. A persistent echo of those homemade fluffy pancakes you had turned down remained, even though he had made them just for you — his precious girl. 

You insisted you would eat later – an obvious white lie to mask your despondency and lack of appetite – but he spoon-fed you, because in his own words, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I allow my girlfriend to starve? No, that won’t do. I’ll take care of you even after I've exhaled my last breath.”

“And how would you do that if you’re no longer breathing, genius?” you asked, a wilting smile on your face that you had put on display for him. 

“Well, my dear," he retorts with a smug grin. "I've always believed that love has a way of transcending the boundaries of life and death. And as luck would have it, our love transcends the mortal realm. I will always be with you, in spirit if not in flesh.” he smiles, a twinkle of amusement behind his sapphire eyes before continuing.

“Once I've moved on to the afterlife, I'll find a way to send you sweet nothings and a box of chocolates from beyond the grave. Consider it an eternal gift.”

He declares in a complacent tone as he lounges back in his chair, head resting comfortably on the back of his hands. 

"But in all seriousness," he then adds, his tone becoming more genuine, "I'll do everything in my power to ensure you're taken care of – even if it means making sure my eternal resting place has a Wi-Fi connection for you to receive my messages.” 

Your thoughts were entirely silenced in that moment; white noise overtook the black space within your mind. How had he managed to say such heartfelt words as if they were second nature? This early in the morning, nonetheless.

Would he actually…?

You knew he would.

"But let’s not dwell on my demise just yet,” his words bring you back to the present conversation. “Until the day comes, I promise to make the most of our time together. Besides, knowing me, I’d probably haunt you just to ensure you have someone annoying to keep you company."

He finally remarked, going back to stuffing your face with the soggy pancakes that had been sitting in syrup for too long. 

And you were cognizant of the fact that you alone were privy to this side of Satoru Gojo: the mushy, gentle one who tended to his companion as if it were a god-given mandate. 

To the public, he was a stoic, impervious character who had no dread of others. To you, he was far more vulnerable than he would ever confess. 

But that wasn’t nearly enough to deter you from taking the disheartening decision made later that day.

“I can’t stay here anymore.” austere words you didn’t wish to speak, but needed to, in order to provide some semblance of closure for the both of you. “I can’t love you anymore.” 

A hushed supplication could be heard flying across the room at the speed of light once your hand reached out to turn the bitterly cold door knob, hitting against the back of your head – identical to an equally-cold shower.

“Please don’t leave me,” he immediately protested weakly. 

He approached you with cautious strides, every step causing fragmentation in his all-too-frail emotional state. Even if it was ephemeral, the mutual love between the two of you had already left a blazing watermark on his soul. His feelings for you transcended the nagging rationality that bound his mind, defying all sensible objections he had on the matter of permitting you to depart from his life. Having failed to quell the ardor her felt, it persisted apodictically until he was an arm’s length from your frame. 

And that was exactly it – the same frigid sensation your hand clinged onto emulated the one you felt in your wretched heart the moment he approached you. You’d already turned your back on him and expressed every afflicting anguish that tormented your soul, so why plead now? Now – when you already made the conscious decision to leave him behind. 

Tears neither you nor he could hold back began flowing down your features. A familiar hand lifted towards your cheek soon after, wiping the salty residue off your delicate face with his thumb. 

He never ceased to remind you how gorgeous you were when you cried, frankly because the manner in which your wispy eyelashes retained the saltine tears in your eyes resembled the delicate surface of a tranquil pond.

Every tear you shed would become the gentle water that tickled his skin as his body wafted about in your iris – an eternal reservoir he’d swim in without tiring if the heavens so permitted it.

However, this occasion differed from the rest; the once gentle waters he yearned to lay in became calamitous waves, which may lure him to the ocean’s most profound recesses in the blink of an eye – your blink of an eye. He would usually stay afloat among that innocent gaze of yours, but tonight it was ruthlessly drowning him with no lifeline in sight. 

Even after he implored that your crying would come to a halt, more pungent teardrops bled onto his fingers. An eroding desperation flowed through you, aching to hold onto something, anything, in order to cease the mental decay within your subconscious.

Thus, your own hand extended to hold his against your cheek, a glacial embrace overpowering the warmth of his skin; an identical chill tickled his spine when he absorbed the crispness of your graze, but he paid it no mind.

“Not you too…anyone but you,” he pleaded in a low voice, causing more accursed tears of yours to cascade mercilessly as he embraced you in an endeavor to sway your decision. His voice was gentle and soothing, mimicking a caress you’d never experience a second time. 

“I’m sorry.” you muttered.

Being unable to bring yourself to meet the sapphire eyes that imitated a midwinter sky so perfectly, your head lay low; the only thing visible to him was the top of it. 

It was unclear what you were sorry about. Perhaps you were sorry that you had to leave him behind. Or perhaps you were apologizing to yourself that he was no longer what you thought you wanted with every fiber in your body.

You desired more in this life, and on your game board, he wasn’t a playing piece who could frolic alongside you. It wasn’t because you didn’t fancy his company, rather it was the fact that his own strategy of playing was one that did not catch your eye anymore; it had become a monotonous rehearsal. Every move came to be a discernible one to you – even before he picked up his pawn, causing you to lose interest in the entire game itself.

That realization alone shattered his entire world.

Satoru’s head lay low all throughout as he sat on a wooden stool amidst the empty bar. It was 2 a.m. and he needed to go home, but why should he?

You wouldn’t be there to greet him – or even scold him for that matter. 

Colorless, almost lifeless, marbles stared vacantly at the picture of you on his lock screen; he consistently spoke to your picture as if he were having a conversation with it. At this point in time, it had become routine. Maybe one of these days the frozen-in-time frame would speak back to him for once?

Just once.

Where had that tender smile he’d fallen in love with gone?

Where had you gone?

On a nightly basis, the same detestable conversation from that night redounded from one end of Satoru’s mind to the other incessantly – akin to a religiously recited sermon. 

It was impractical to disregard the harsh reality that sooner or later every cherished individual he held dear to his heart willingly departed from his life – Suguru, and now you. 

If it entailed becoming a regular person, he’d give his life as a sorcerer to ensure the permanent presence of at least one individual in his life. Where was the value of possessing such prowess when one’s vulnerability in the realm of love was inescapable? 

What twisted transaction was that?

He'd even willingly forsake his divinely bestowed talents for the purpose of altering the passage of time, thereby reverting to a period where your presence was far from being nothing more than a diminishing recollection. 

Ijichi had been dealing with this side of his boss for months on end. Regardless of his efforts to encourage Gojo to put an end to this melancholic act of his, he never managed to convince him to do so. Ijichi attempted the compassionate approach, but to no avail. His optimism and patience were dwindling, fearing that this would continue on for eternity – and perhaps it would’ve if he hadn’t stepped in.

This had to end sooner or later, and for everyone involved’s sake, it had to be the former. So tonight, he opted for a sterner, and perhaps more unforgiving, path.

Your car was parked out front of the bar Ijichi had sent you the address to – forehead pressed against the steering wheel as an audible, exhausted sigh escaped your mouth. It was late and you knew this was nothing short of inane behavior. You weren’t doing this for you; you had to remind yourself that you were doing it for him, with the hope that he would ultimately find someone who would be there for him in a way that you were unable to. 

Weary, almost weak, legs lead you to enter the desolate bar. A knife prods at your chest when your eyes dart over to where Gojo was. He kept his head lowered; the only part of him you could clearly see from this angle was his back.

An overwhelming sea of emotions plagued your mind when you witnessed him in such a state. You could feel the knives twist the longer you stared at the back of his fluffy white locks. 

Months had passed since your split, and you realized Satoru’s grief and distress were indeed as dire as his assistant conveyed to you during the phone conversation. 

A tap on his shoulder was accompanied by a sweet voice that had vanished into the depths of his consciousness a long time ago. Perhaps because he didn't wish to recall the agonizing memories that came with your voice, or perhaps because he needed to maintain a pristine, untouched image of you in his psyche.

As you occupy a vacant stool one seat away from him, your attention is drawn to the half empty vodka bottle in his grasp. 

“You know, I talked to your therapist. He said you were getting sober.” 

What you said held true, except you didn’t hear it from his therapist directly; Ijichi was the one who was initially informed about that, and being the caring person he was, he relayed the details to you. Mostly because he felt as if, deep down, you still wanted to know about Gojo’s well-being.

"What are you doing here drowning yourself in alcohol?" you added, seemingly concerned for your ex-boyfriend.

He looked up at you, his eyes red and bleary from the drink. His body froze. Blue pupils dilated in a mixture of shock and happiness. It really was you. Had you come back for him after all this time? 

"What does it look like I’m doing?" he muttered, his voice bitter and angry.

Satoru detested alcohol; it always interfered with his abilities, and being the strongest meant being ready whenever – no questions asked.  After your departure, though, he grew fond of the bitter, burning feeling the liquid provided. That sweet poison was the sole substance capable of muffling the eternal pessimism plaguing his mind.

You approached him cautiously, taking the bottle from his hands and setting it aside. "Come on," you said firmly, "we need to get you home."

He wasted no time to speak what was really on his mind. Even if it was for a mere second, he had felt the sensation of your touch once more. That was more than he needed to vocalize the thoughts that tormented his sanity. Either that, or it was the alcohol he had consumed speaking. 

“Why won’t you love me back?” His words slurred, being far too drunk to care, though. 

“…You’re drunk, let’s get you home.”

“What home? The one I bought for us that YOU left me all alone in?” he deadpans, the silence following being as deafening as a scream.

Ouch. 

“My room feels so empty if you’re not there. I see your precious face and I don't know what to do.” His expression dampens with anguish before he continues – somewhat unclearly, ”whatever I do, I cam’t fubking get you out of my head amd it’s ruining me.” 

“I told you to move on a million times every time you drunk dialed me, Satoru.” 

“If that’s what you wanted, why did you continue to pick up the call?” He retaliates, eyes glazed with forbidden tears on the verge of cascading against his pale skin.

You knew perfectly well why. He knew perfectly well why. Everyone Satoru vented to about you knew why, so why continue to deny it? 

Attempting to keep your temper in check, you take a deep breath, eyes darting back and forth between the door and him. It was more than easy to run away from your problems, like you always did. But not this time.

You owed it to him to at least finally stick around long enough when things got tough. You wouldn’t put up an invisible wall between the two of you anymore, not today. 

You sigh, taking the empty seat right next to him. 

“We can’t go back to how things were. We broke up, remember?” 

“I know,” he grumbles, taking a sip of his beverage. He shook his head, his drunken state making it almost impossible to focus his thoughts or his vision. “But maybe drinking will make me forget that we ever did. Maybe tonight I can pretend we’re still together,” his voice and face etched with sorrow.

His voice trailed off, followed by another long sip of his drink. 

“You need to quit drinking yourself into a stupor, Satoru. This isn’t healthy,” you responded, voice softening out of concern. 

His eyes still clouded with alcohol, he looks at you before speaking. “I don’t know how to move on.” He admitted, voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to live without you. I loved you…and I still do.”

He silently weeps once and for all, crumbling before the love of his life. You didn’t know what else to say, so you settled on simply allowing his head to rest on your shoulder; you always were his favorite shoulder to cry on, after all. Wrapping an arm around him, you pet his head as you lull him. Instinctively, he envelops you into a warm embrace, face burying itself deeper into your chest. 

As he continued to sob like a baby, the sorcerer allowed his emotions to flow freely – months of bottling them up into liquor bottles had finally caught up to him. 

He was beyond ecstatic underneath all the melancholy; not only had you allowed him to get closer to you, but even went as far as hugging him too. He couldn't believe it. Just a few moments ago, you were talking about forcing him to move on, but now – you were actually back in his arms, where you belonged.

He felt relieved for a moment, almost to the point where he wasn't thinking properly anymore. You were finally back in his arms, where you needed to be; he refused to let go.

It felt like a fever dream, but this was all he needed. Even if you’re gone, morning come, he’ll live in this moment for the rest of eternity. 

[salaimoi]

el veneno mas honroso de mi corazón

wc: 444 ~ angst/fluff?

Gojo Satoru was the worst type of love you ever experienced. He was the epitome of a detrimental inamorato—too perfect to even hate. It wasn't because he was a horrible lover—it was because he was the embodiment of love that seethed deep within your being, even when things broke off between the two of you. It was a mutual decision—a clean breakup. You loved each other deeply, but you sought distinct goals in life, causing the inevitable rupture between you.

He was a delectable candy, causing a sharp toothache each and every time you consumed it. Even if your dentist would scold you on multiple occasions, you’d always continue to ingest the godforsaken delicacy. You wanted to detest the treat and convince yourself that it was no good for you, but that never worked, did it?

Oh, how the heavens themselves were fully aware of how he made it impossible to hate him as a past lover. Were you doing something wrong or was he? You couldn’t hate him, you couldn’t bring yourself to loathe him. He was your ex after all, wasn’t that supposed to be the dynamic between the two of you?

Your entire existence continued to ache at the thought of him being an angel even after you’d parted ways. Was he an angel sent to teach you what unconditional love was, even if there was no label on you anymore? Or was he a demon sent to taunt you so you’d never move on from him?

Please just treat me horribly for one second so I can hate you and move on. I can’t forget you. I can’t hate you. Stop treating me with kindness. Stop smiling at me on the street. Stop giving me flowers on my birthday. Why the hell do you even remember my birthday?

Your body mirrored an inferno the day you found a bouquet of flowers that accursed day. A ravishing flower arrangement with a note from that blind-folded idiot welcome you home after a long day at work. He was supposed to make your life insufferable, not light it up by giving you small gifts.

Could he think about you for a second and lend a helping hand by giving you a single reason to hate him? Could he act like every other man on Earth for a fraction of a moment and become an asshole you’d hate so you could move on from him and his stupid, handsome face? Could he contribute to the whole ‘your ex is your worst enemy’ trope?

Honestly, you’d be lying if you said there was an ounce of hate for him in your body.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a/n: i really wanted to keep writing for this but when i paused to begin moving it over to tumblr i realized the wc reached 444 🥹 that was completely unintentional, so I left it as is <3

(yes I believe in angel numbers - kill me if it’s a crime)