#Gojo satoru x you

[yourhornysister]

THE YEARNING THE YEARNING AHHHH

Knight of Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You, heir to the throne and fated to be married off to a royal you’ve never even met. Gojo Satoru, your personal knight and the one man that will not let this happen. He will not.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! princess! reader, knight! Gojo, childhood-friends-to-Iovers, PINING, arranged marriages, Naoya is awful, Gojo YEARNS, flower language, politics, slight víolence, slight angst, matíng presses, cervíx kíssing, creampíes, cúmplay, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, oraI (fem rec), he goes FÉRAL, cúmming in his pants, manhandIing, spítting, biiig stretches, dúmbifícation, cúmflation, p talking, p sIapping, overstím, proposals, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.7k

A/N. What happens when ya let a girl listen to Golden Brown by The StrangIers.

“You are not to speak, you are not to look.” The king intertwines his decadently ringed fingers on his lap, the royal signet glinting pointedly amongst them. “You are not to so much as breathe in the princess’s way from tomorrow onwards.”

And it’s only with his hard-earned years as your knight that Gojo stops himself from shuddering where he knelt, head bowing to hide the clench in his jaw.

Though, surely something must have flashed across his features - because the next few words have a familiar warmth that twisted Gojo’s heart much more than his royal timbre, “Satoru, my boy, you understand that this is your duty? Yes?”

“I understand.” The answer is instant, as is the raise of the other man’s brows. 

“And do you understand that this marriage is my daughter’s duty?” Your father barks out a disbelieving laugh into the barren throne room. “We wouldn’t want Prince Naoya getting the wrong idea between the princess and a- a knight.” 

The words make his eyes prick wetly, and Gojo can’t help but bend even lower as he whispers. “I…I understand, sir.”

After all, it was the second thing that Gojo Satoru had drilled into his mind from the very moment he first met you.

The first being that he’s loved you ever since. 

Which - retrospectively speaking - might’ve been an incredibly bold declaration coming from the scrawny, fidgeting six-year-old you happened to catch sneaking in and stealing lilac blooms from the royal garden all those years ago.

He remembers how you’d giggled, looking positively like a little blossom in all those gauzy layers of gown. Piping up from under the lilac tree he was latched onto, “My father says that’s not allowed.”

Gojo had fallen then - literally, startling about six feet from the branch he’d been straddling and straight into a scratchy pile of leaves with a dull thud! Back hurting, head spinning, it was a wonder that he hadn’t sprained anything, but right then and there he remembers thinking he was in heaven.

Because here was a pretty lil’ angel his age ogling down at him, speaking in a regal accent so different from his. “My father says that’s not allowed either.”

Your grin beamed down on him and warmed his skin even more scorchingly than the balmy rays of sunlight filtering in through the leaves. And for the first time ever in his life, Gojo Satoru had stuttered. 

“Yer- yer father sounds stupid.” He had spit out, chubby cheeks puffing out the more you stared at him. What? He was sure he looked ridiculous with all those stray sticks and leaves stuck in his cloudy locks, but did you really have to look at him like…that? 

“My father…” Your lips curled even further, as if you knew something he didn’t. “-the king.”

Oh.

Oh. 

And it’s only then that Gojo notices the thin, silver tiara on your head, a delicate wreath of jeweled flowers that twinkled almost as bright as your eyes. It reflected specks of light into his gaze almost mockingly.

Idiot- it felt like someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over him that chilled him to the very bone. 

Even at the tender- well, wise and sensible age of six, Gojo had heard from the adults in town all about the torture chambers and p-prisons that the royal palace was home to. 

Just why did he feel the need to escape from his mother at the market to bring her a batch of those wispy, amethyst flowers anyway? 

Sure, they were her favorite but- the royal family would have his head before even she did. And he didn’t even get to butter her up with the lilacs!

“Forgive me!” Gojo had squeaked out in a cry so shrill that you hurriedly took a step back, eyes widening once the interesting boy in front of you dropped to his hands and knees. “Ah- I mean uh- forgive me, your highness- your princessness.” Drooping into a bow so low that his soft tufts of hair brushed the warm ground. Words tumbling out a mile a minute, “It was an accident- I must’ve been um sleepwalking and I pinky-promise won’t do it again-”

“Those lilacs haven’t bloomed yet, y’know?” You’re cutting him off smoothly, and Gojo remembers feeling a pang of irritation- let him recite his apologies before you throw him in a cell, dammit! Right before flooding with confusion, eyes snapping up to meet yours hesitantly. 

Pointing at a pretty white gazebo, overlooking the lake only a few meters away, you’d shrugged your shoulders. “The garden staff puts the best ones in a bouquet over there.”

At which, he’d replied with an exceptionally eloquent, “Huh?”

“Well, what my father doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

It’s only after hours upon hours of picking every lilac flower in sight and chatting about all the worldly topics a pair of six-year-olds knew that you were dragged away by one of your worried attendants. 

And he almost felt…sad about it. Weird. 

The yolky setting sun that day cast shadows for Gojo to hide himself in behind one of the gazebo pillars as he peeked at your retreating back. In-step with an older woman muttering about “losing her job oh- the king will banish her.” 

And if there was one thing that he would never forget - well, amongst everything else - it was the way his heart banged selfishly against his ribcage with a repeated turn around turn around turn around-

You did. And you’d smiled, and Gojo hasn’t been able to step away from your side since.

Well, he had to - to go home that evening and proudly proclaim to his thoroughly cross mother how he’ll become a knight, that is. 

Honestly, even the colossal lilac bouquet did little to deter her scoldings about running off. But despite how bad it was - and the fact that he was sentenced to be confined to his room for a whole month - it didn’t matter.

Gojo visited you the next day, too. 

And the day after that, and the day after that- and again and again no matter how many times you’d teased him about coming so often to see you. Because you were right there no matter what royal duties or lessons dictated, waiting in the lilac garden for him. 

Every day.

When Gojo was eighteen he’d applied for a position in the royal guard, breezing through the demonstrations of physical strength because of course, he did. He’d been training for his very day for years.

And it showed - oh, how it showed. 

It showed in the way he stood almost a head above every other man lined up there, veering numerous inches above six feet. All sculptured, Herculean muscles and arms toned from years spent climbing the palace orchards with you. The strongest. 

He considered himself exceedingly humble, too, of course. 

Humble enough to not brag outright in your face once Gojo had climbed the treacherous way into being your personal knight before the age of twenty. 

“Hah, I can tell your father- erm, his majesty all about where you sneak off to now.” Gojo snickered, flicking your forehead in a way that a princess simply shouldn’t be treated. “Perhaps I’ll bargain titles with him- tell the courts about the way you climb trees, and ride horses and-”

“Snitch”

“Harlot.”

“Knave.”

“Hobgoblin.”

“Satoru.” You’d deadpanned up at as six foot four inches of white-haired nuisance clinging onto whimpers out a dramatic ouch, that one hurt. Desperately trying to keep the smile off of your face, “You’re with me each and every single time.”

Well, was. 

It seemed like the king was to be putting a stop to that very, very soon. With your looming- he gulps to keep the leaden ball of tears away from his throat, your engagement. 

“Toru—” Your voice snaps him out of his hazy little reverie, and he finds himself straightening his back into a respectful posture outside of the throne room. Warily eyeing the way you bound up to him, “What did my father want to talk to you about so suddenly?”

“Ah…” Gojo’s throat feels hoarse. Parched. The smile plastering onto his face wobbly, “Just- just security measures for the visitor we’re going to have, your royal highness.”

Your brows quirk upwards, pretty lips falling open just enough for him to realize you were about to comment on his use of that. That title. 

“Now if you pardon this knight, ma’am-” Gojo pipes up before you can bludgeon him with questions, striding down the luxurious hallway to his newly-assigned post at the royal treasury. Far, far away from your chambers. “-I have been called by Knight Commander Yaga to my-”

“Satoru- wait.”

He should’ve known better than to have thought he could escape you - not when even his own heart didn’t want to.

Lurching up in an almost-nauseating swoop the moment your voice echoes from behind, hitting his glinting armor. “You…are you okay—? You haven’t called me any of those silly formal titles since we first met.” Words practically dripping with concern, fuck- he was sure your face was furrowing. And if it was up to him he would kiss away every tense crevice. 

But no, that was not his place. 

His place was to stand rooted to the spot, face turning only a half-degree to grace you with a soft bow. Gojo knew it wasn’t the epitome of respect, but a singular look in your face right now and he would break.

“I am in perfect condition to carry out my duties, ma’am.” He’s nodding, voice oh-so-brittle in his throat for how hardened it thundered.

“That’s not what I mean.” Stubborn.

Gojo turns back to the winding corridor in front of him, “Then if that is all, I shall be on my way. I hope you have a good day, ma’am.”

“Satoru.”

And if his cheeks were cold and encrusted with a few streaks of salty tears when he reached the treasury, Gojo was only grateful that his fellow knight Ijichi was too afraid of him to say anything.

.

.

.

Gojo Satoru was avoiding you - marching the other way if he glimpsed you, running around the palace for menial tasks, he wasn’t even your personal guard anymore, for goodness’ sake! Your best friend was ignoring you and you weren’t sure why. 

Was it because you had to skip out on your daily walks in the lilac garden to greet the visiting Zenin royals? 

No, he was always so understanding of the royal responsibilities that you couldn’t skive off. Besides, his strange attitude had sparked up even before Prince Naoya and his family arrived at your kingdom - ever since that meeting with your father.

You were dying to ask the king what exactly was talked about that day, a meeting so confidential that he didn’t even have the royal advisor transcripting it. But your father was always so busy with the older Zenin couple these days, cooped up in office rooms surrounded to the brim with official documents. 

And that left you with…him.

Naoya Zenin. A prince if there was ever any, who couldn’t talk about anything but that. 

“So…um.” Your eyes dart around the palace gardens, you always did love it here - that comforting smell of flowers wafting in clouds around you. But right now you felt anything but comforted. “How are you liking the garden, Prince Naoya?”

He shakes his brown-tipped locks, eyes narrowing. “Rather plebian for a royal palace, if I do say so myself.”

“R-right…” You’re sputtering in an unlady-like fashion, “We do have orchards too if you wanted to-”

“Of course, the gardens in my palace are much bigger-” He’s waving a gloved hand loftily, nose crinkling into a sneer at the bustling gardeners planting beautiful white blossoms everywhere. Honestly, you were informed there was a grand ball soon - but wasn’t this a bit much? “And we teach the help to stay out of sight.”

“Well, I think they’re really nice.” You’re huffing, brows marrying together. 

He scoffs, “Nice- or useful?”

“Both.”You fight the urge to just storm off then and there - it wouldn’t do good to start a war between the two most powerful kingdoms right now. 

“Ah yes yes- nice.” Naoya repeats airily, words warbling as if he was biting back a laugh. “Suppose the low-borns are tolerable if they’re nice.”

A vision of Gojo - tiny and trembling into a bow in front of you - flashed through your mind, and you find your pretty heels digging hard into the dark soil. That was it.

“Perhaps.” Your voice comes out dangerously even, dangerously. Naoya only raises his brows in faint interest, “Yet, even the least tolerable tch- ‘low-born’ would be more tolerable than a pompous, arrogant-”

“There you are, your highnesses!” 

Satoru. 

You would recognize that low, lilting baritone amongst a thousand others. And before you can turn around to face your best friend that had been missing for days, he plows on, “A little gift- from this lowborn.”

Thud!

Before you can even blink, pale hands reach out to unceremoniously dump a radiant yellow flower crown on Naoya’s blond bangs. And you swear Gojo pushed down on his head harder than necessary.

The first thing you register is the warm wall of muscles pushing up against your back, lecherously counting every ladder of washboard abs and Gojo’s plush pecs in your mind. Mindlessly, you’re leaning back even closer, savoring the way his breath hitches. Harlot. 

The second thing you’re realizing is that Naoya Zenin - for the first time in twenty-something years - had gone quiet. Very, very quiet. Suspiciously so. 

You force your words into some semblance of levelness, “Are you…are you alright, Prince Naoya?”

But Naoya didn’t speak - you didn’t know if he was even breathing. Long face growing greyer and greyer by the second, he doesn’t answer you.

No, instead he’s pointing a trembling finger behind you. “You there…you- what shrub have you placed upon my royal head?”

“Laburnum.” Comes the answer - and just as soon comes a drawling, strangled squawk.

Your first instinct is to look towards the shimmering lake not too far away from you, eyes searching for any trace of those familiar ducks- before gasping in surprise and looking back to the prince. Mouth ajar, still making those undignified noises. 

Him? 

“You- you will-” He hisses, so furious that you have to take a step back - right into Gojo’s waiting arms - to avoid his flecks of spit. “-you will pay for this.”

In only a split-second, Naoya had thrown the flower crown onto the ground and wheezed his way up the flowery pathway back to the castle. What a sight it was.

But nothing compared to the way that Gojo comes into your line of sight and preens. One hand tapping at his cheek in thought, the other held behind his back. “Whoops- I forgot that the king specifically informed me that our honored guest was allergic to laburnum flowers. Guess, low-borns aren’t of good memory. Right, my princess?”

“Satoru- you- you ass.” You’re yelping through fits of laughter, not caring for the way the rest of the gardening staff smiles knowingly. “What if that bastard gets deathly sick? The blame would be on you.”

He rolls his summer blue eyes, “Proudly.”

“I should send you to the gallows for this.”

Gasping in faux shock, “Most salacious indeed!”

And for the first time in so long, it feels normal. 

The breezing heat of Gojo’s body against yours feels normal, and you couldn’t bring yourself to think too deeply about it. Too enchanted by the sheer lack of armor - all billowy white poet shirt and flattering cotton pants. 

“Y-yeah well-” Shit- why was your skin burning this way? The sun wasn’t even at peak temperature for today. Absentmindedly, you’re playing with one of his silk lapels, “Thank goodness we’re losing him in a few days, I asked mother and she said the Zenin’s are only visiting until the fast-approaching ball.” 

“Princess-” It all comes out in a rush, “-that ball. The reason for it is actually-”

“Your highness! The queen is asking for a conference with you!” The curious voices of your maidservants drag you away from Gojo’s arms, into a much less scandalous position.

And yet, with only a nod behind - you still stay standing in front of him. You stay.

“Right…” Gojo’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a deep gulp. Shadowy gaze darting away, “I should get back to my duties, ma’am. Suguru has been abusing his position as head gardener to work me like a mule.”

The way your face crumples with disappointment makes Gojo’s heart feel sliced open. And raw. “Of course. I’ll see you around, Gojo.”

Gojo. Gojo. 

And of course he couldn’t let you walk away - of course he couldn’t let you leave his life just yet. 

So without thinking, without even realizing, he’s clasping a slender hand around your wrist to pull you back. To reel you in. To him. 

Velvety strands of snow-white curtain Gojo’s eyes, and the doughy fingerpads on your skin shiver. Mumbling, “Before- Before you go, my prin- ma’am. I just wanted to give you-” And you don’t know what makes your heart race more - the cherry-red blush painting all over Gojo’s cheeks and up to the very tips of his ears, or the sunny flower crown clasped in a hand pulled from behind his back. “-this.”

Your mouth drops into an awe-struck oh! It was beautiful - trickling blossoms of every shade of yellow entwined gently together. Embedded with celestially dainty buds of an amber so pale it looked almost white, diamonds on a tiara fit for a princess. 

You had a feeling it would be your favorite one.  

All you could think of was Gojo with his staggering hands, and his battle-worn fingers, making something so delicate for you. 

“Is…is this one just as allergy-inducing as the other, Satoru?” You’re breathing, rustled by a breeze so gentle that it almost hurts.  

“No.” Gojo whispers, just as quiet. As if the slightest sign of a raised voice would break whatever saccharinely thick moment this was, “Yellow acacia and yellow carnation. For you, my princess.”

For the way he’d be losing you just as soon as he loses that asshat. 

And even once you’d adorned his crown and been hurried off by a few palace staff, Gojo stared. Even once you were nothing but a speck of royal satin and yellow crowns, he stared. Even once you were gone, and he was left so very alone, he stared. 

Only thanking the heavens above that you always slept through your flower language lessons. 

.

.

.

Over the next few days; wherever you were, Naoya Zenin was to follow. 

And Gojo was sure that it was pushing the young royal closer and closer to a spectacular aneurysm any time that you called specifically for him to accompany you. Blatantly refusing any other knight that came your way.

The pointed third during “romantic” boat rides on the lake, always the guard overseeing dinners, the one to step in with a blunder if your future fiancé got too…opinionated. Gojo was always there. 

It was more like you spent your time trying to make his dutiful façade crack than supposedly entertaining your guest.

Sneaky princess. 

After all - Gojo found himself pacing and arguing out loud with himself any time you did - he was simply doing his job, right? Even if the aforementioned job went against just a few direct orders from the king himself. 

But these were a direct order from the princess. His princess. And Gojo had stopped his procedural traversing and ranting since realizing this. 

Although- the head chef, Nanami’s, veiled threat about turning him into pig feed the next time he heard stomping may have played a slight part in this, as well. 

And it was on such a day that Gojo found himself stationed to guard the inside of the royal drawing room. Spine ramrod straight, eyes flooded with steel while he took in the sight of you and that bastard- Naoya sketching the other in silence. 

It was a dainty, sunlit room, and the hours might have almost been peaceful - if it wasn’t for the split-haired bastard, that is. 

After that flower fiasco and a thorough telling off for misremembering the prince’s allergies, this was meant to make up for a “bonding activity” according to the king; which to him read more like a desperate attempt to push the two of you together before the grand ball tomorrow night. 

Gojo’s chest caves in with a sudden spike of pain, tomorrow night. Your engagement ball, where you will surely be handed off to a man who wouldn’t be worthy of you in a thousand different lives. 

Fuck, had it really been days since already?

It hurt too much, and so he looks towards the prince’s parchment- how insulting. Hundreds of royal art lessons, yet Naoya still couldn’t capture the exact curve of your smile. And those pretty crinkles by your eyes- they were entirely the wrong number! And Gojo’s sure that any fool could see the way your lips-

He was getting ahead of himself. And reminded embarrassingly of the hundreds of sketches of you over the years stowed away underneath his bed alongside a stubby piece of charcoal. 

And he was leaning over the prince in a way that he was sure would get him strung and quartered in the Zenin palace. Or, at least, that’s what Naoya’s daggered glare was telling him. 

With a sheepish smirk, Gojo snatches a glimpse at your artwork. Stifling a laugh at the way you’ve given up on drawing the other man and started engaging in idle scribblings of weasels and hollies. 

“That one looks like him, don’t you think?” He can’t help but whisper from the corner of his mouth, stomach swooping in delight as soon as your eyes light up. 

Tacking on a familiar hairstyle and sneer onto a particularly shoddy caricature of one of the weasels, giggling. “He does.”

Gojo points at another drawing - this time of a bullfrog- honestly, what interests for a princess. “And that’s-”

“That Jinichi.” You’re finishing off for him, carelessly drawing away a few more - quite frankly, Gojo finds everything you do beautiful, but these were appallingly ugly - scribbles of foxes and goats. “That one’s Oji Zenin, and that’s Gakuganji and that’s-”

“Ahem.”

There was only one person who could make the clearing of a throat sound so snobbish. And that was Naoya Zenin. 

Brows raised, feet tapping impatiently on polished marble as he snatches the parchment from your grip. 

Schwing–!

“Toru- no.” 

Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s pulling out his famed, silver sword until you’re stopping him with a hand to his tense bicep. Shit.

Growling through clenched teeth once more at Naoya while he nestles it back into its scabbard with unsteady fingers - only because you asked. 

But the other man doesn’t even flinch - wearing that perfect mask of regal stoicity, though Gojo manages to catch the way his eyes flicker nervously down at the hilt of his sword. Doesn’t show anything other than the tightening of his thin lips as he gazes upon your humorous drawings. 

The impatient tap! tap! tap! of his feet slowing down, stopping - before Naoya throws your paper down onto the floor and stomps. Gojo would’ve almost found it comedic if it hadn’t been for your startled demeanour.

“Excuse me-” He’s hissing, angling his broad body between you and this unseemly sight. Gojo looks dead-on into Naoya’s spit-fire red face, “-but I would have to hope not to remind a young prince of royal etiquette.”

“Excuse me, sir.”

“No need to call me ‘sir’, your highness.”

Naoya looks up, death in his eyes.

Gojo thought this might be the end. The missed trip to the dungeons all those years ago was finally catching up to him, and he would be thrown in today for drawing his weapon on a royal but goddammit- if he wasn’t going to keep you safe from his ire for as long as he breathes and then some.

But - to both you and Gojo’s surprise, and perhaps even Naoya himself - he simply turns swiftly on his heels and walks out of the room. Letting the heavy double-doors SLAM! deafeningly behind him. 

It takes a beat. One. Two. 

He counts every raging ba-dump–! of his heart against this ribcage- before the terse silence shatters with laughter. 

“Toru- To- Satoru—!” You’re wiping away genuine tears, “‘No need to call me sir-’ where did you even come up with that-”

“Fuck! You can laugh but I thought I was headed to the gallows.” He’s exclaiming, and it was quite difficult to act as if your laugh wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d heard in his entire life. “Although- it would have been a killer last line. Wouldn’t it, my princess?”

The two of you stare at each other for one singular ba-dump–! Before bursting into peels of undignified cackles that could make an entire court shiver in scandal. 

“Killer- killer alright-” You’re rolling your watery eyes, “This is just as bad as the time you caught Yaga in his interpretive rain dance routine- I thought you were surely dead then.”

Please, Gojo’s stomach and his heart were hurting - though, for very different reasons. “Not as bad as when you wanted to play dress-up with the sacred royal crown and lost it.”

“Don’t remind me, my father was-” That’s when your tear-lathered lashes flutter, a hand coming up to swat softly against your cheek as if to jolt back your senses. You’re groaning over Gojo’s whine, “-my father. Oh no! What will he say about this?” You almost knock your cushy stool over with how fast you’re teetering into a stand, “I must go apologize to weasel- Naoya right away lest relations with the Zenins-”

“Let me.”

Your brows raise, “What?”

“Let me.” Gojo’s repeating, more firmly this time. Thumb grazing briefly down your knuckles as he pulls you back into your seat. 

Just for a split-second - like he couldn’t even think of letting himself touch such a precious treasure. 

He knows you will argue this, he knows your stupidly selfless self will fight to apologize; which is why before you can say a word, he’s marching hastily out of those same doors and towards the luxurious guest chambers. 

Truthfully, Gojo Satoru didn’t give a fuck about Naoya Zenin - but he’ll be damned if you, his beloved, was cast in a hameful light because of his childish actions. 

He has to do something for you, while he still can. While he still has you. While he can still love you.

The corridors are winding, decadent. He takes a deep breath when nearing the slightly-open gilded door of the Zenin suite, that distinctly nasally tone of Naoya drifting in conversation from within. Shuddering in a deep breath, “Pardon m-”

“-drew me as a weasel!” The prince bursts, fury seeping into every hard syllable of his. Gojo stills where he stands outside, hand on the cool metallic doorknob. “I have never met such a vulgar, unrefined-”

“Oh, do bear it until the engagement Naoya.” The gruff voice of a man responds - and he recognizes it from all the recent chiding at palace staff to be the prince’s cousin, Jinichi Zenin. “After that ya can take your time breaking ‘er in.”

What? 

“A boor telling me to break in a wench.” The younger man scoffs, though he sounds much calmer than just moments before. 

Gojo thinks he could throw up all over the gleaming floors, he thinks he wants to keel over and beg at the king’s feet to keep this from happening to you. He thinks he just might. 

But right now, he can’t bring his feet to move a single inch. Pressing himself up closer against the adjacent patterned wall, sharp ear yearning for more shards of the conversation. 

“They’re all the same anyways.” Says Jinichi, “Just give ‘er something sparkly or flowery and keep her sated. Don’t want another one running off before you can dig your claws into the crown, now, do we?”

And perhaps he’s a hopeless fool for praying that Naoya might say something - anything - else. Wishing for the non-existent good in your soon-to-be fiancé, who only grits out a displeased, “Fine. Only because I want to see her pretty lil’ face when I break her to my will.” There’s the sound of urgent footsteps, “But if father doesn’t give me the throne for my efforts then I’m killing her and you, you brute.”

Stood stock still.

Gojo doesn’t think he could move even if he wanted to - and right now, ice-cold spikes of anger were the only thing latching him rooted to the spot, not even flinching once Naoya closes the door behind him and walks- seeing him. 

His jaw clenches, eyes harrowing. “You.” 

And Naoya had very clearly taken the opportunity to arm himself in his family chamber, because his spindly fingers itch towards the hilt of his dangerously glinting sword. Just seconds away from-

“Please.” 

Gojo drops onto one knee, the tendons of his neck aching with how far downwards he had it bent into a pitiful bow. “I ask his highness to please let the princess go- to call off this impending engagement. I- I will bear the brunt of committing an offense, and will gladly take any punishment that is bestowed upon me. I just please beg of you to-”

“The same hand.”

“What?” Gojo forces himself to look up with tear-filled eyes, to face the prince squarely in his chestnut gaze. His delighted chestnut gaze. 

Pointing towards his right hand, “The same hand you were to raise your sword at me, the same hand you used to put that wretched toxic flower crown on me-” And then his blade, “-I order you to repent.”

The other man breathes, “Repent…”

“Repent.” Naoya stands up taller, perhaps the most self-confident that Gojo has ever seen him. A barbarous curl of his lips starting to form, “Repent, and I shall consider ending my engagement with the princ-”

CRUNCH!

Pain. Blinding pain was all that Gojo could feel, and…relief. 

He couldn’t even register the steady trickle of warm crimson on his skin and onto the floor in rose-like splotches - even though he could see it through bleary eyes. Head still spinning to catch up with the nanosecond events of drawing his sword and slicing a wide gash down his forearm. 

Through half-lidded eyes, he puts back his bloodied blade into the scabbard and looks up at the stricken prince. 

Repentance. 

“So you love her.” Is all that Naoya hisses. And Gojo can’t lie, nor can he muddy your name. 

So he simply waits quietly, silence speaking enough for eons. Waiting for you to be set free. And if he tried, he could even manage a smile-

Sniffing insolently - though, it sounded more like a snicker. “How valiant, for a low-born.” All that is said before he spits furiously at Gojo’s feet and breezes past in a swish of capes - as if nothing ever happened. “I might even invite you to the princess and I’s wedding ceremony.”

.

.

.

In a palace of thousands, it was only Gojo Satoru that could manage to stand out. 

None of the royal jesters could make the court laugh quite as loud. None of the other knights - no matter how muscled, or chivalrous - could make the ladies-in-waiting swoon just as much. And none of the other reputable men could make you seek him out in every chamber, state room, or training ground just like this.  

It was strange not to see even the barest glimpse of Gojo for an entire day, and the palace didn’t quite feel like a home without him.

“I’m telling you, Nobara–” You’re wheezing out in condensed puffs as your eager right-hand attendant continues mercilessly tightening away the undergarments of your ballgown. “Something’s probably happened to him or-”

“-or he’s being locked up for offending some uppity duke.” She’s rolling her honeypool eyes, one of the few who wasn’t afraid to express themselves this way in front of you. Flitting about the opulent dressing room you rarely liked to use, “You know how that eugh- Gojo is.”

“Which is precisely why I’m worried.”

Honestly, you didn’t even care for a grand ball when you didn’t know where your best friend was. Whether he was in the dungeons or…worse. 

But Nobara wasn’t here to hear you ramble about Gojo Satoru - you oftentimes got the impression that he irritated her too much for her own liking - she was here to doll you up in costly pale blue silks and muslins that draped off of you prettier than a painting. 

And you felt dizzy by the time she let you be escorted off towards the emanating music of the ballroom - with an excited goodbye and a reluctant promise to keep an eye out for Gojo. 

Hair done more intricately than you could’ve even imagined, your jewelry caught every light in the room, a bejeweled flower tiara weighing heavily on your head. Adorning your face in a crown that reminded you of the one Gojo had made you only a few days ago. 

It was almost a struggle to keep your face held high as you took the first few steps down the winding imperial staircase. To the ball. 

You have to stop yourself from tilting your head down at the thrumming masses of decadently dressed-up nobles and clinking champagne to check whether Gojo was hidden away somewhere down there. 

Manners. Posture. Eye contact. 

It was all painfully practised, and so was the tightening of your features as your own father started reading off your introduction. He never took on this task - what was happening?

“And now, for the most important guest of all-” Booming voice thundering in your ears almost as loud as your heartbeat was. The king addresses the congregation in the middle of the dancefloor, more ruler than father at this point. “-my daughter, princess of our beloved kingdom. And the queen of the next!”

Your hand stills where it had been helping you balance in your heels down the stairway- what?

Thankfully, your father carries on - or rather, not thankfully, considering what his next words are. 

“Yes, my people, this may come as a surprise to you all.” He chuckles above the deafening murmurs, and you slowly find yourself scurrying onto the raised platform your father’s throne was seated on. “But tonight is not only a simple celebration of our nation, it’s a celebration of love. Of two nations.”

There’s a beat of silence as he reaches out a withered hand to you, and you find yourself wordlessly taking it. 

“F-father, what-” you whisper, but there’s no response. Your skin bristles with goosebumps, and you’re not sure whether it’s from the summer breeze wafting from the gardens, or from the speech’s implications.

Letting yourself be pulled right into the middle of the stage,right into the spotlight - where Naoya Zenin was waiting for you. Dressed in his finest suit of white silk, adorned with layers upon layers of military accolades and velvety medals. 

The bright, blazing light of the chandelier was scorching, and your hands clench in unease. What was happening?

“That is right, my people.” The king drags your hand up to mesh in an entwinement with Naoya’s clammy ones, holding it up for the eager public to see. “After much consideration and forethought, our royal families have decided that today my daughter is the beloved princess of our nation. But tomorrow, she will be the future queen of the Zenin kingdom.”

There’s cheering - but you can’t hear any of it. In fact, the entire world could be falling upon you and you don’t think you would have noticed. 

All you can feel is the queasy churning of your stomach, and the stern whisper of Naoya’s voice against your ear. Fingers tightening around your own, bruisingly. “Dance with me before I break this pretty hand, princess.”

You’re like a ragdoll, being puppeteered in a rigid beeline onto the dance floor. 

If it wasn’t for one of Naoya’s hands bracing onto your waist, you wouldn’t even have realized that the royal orchestra had started up a gorgeous waltz. A slow, romantic melody that you might’ve otherwise loved if you weren’t trapped in the arms of a fiancé you never asked for. 

“Looking pretty out of it there, princess.” The prince sneers after a few practised motions of your dance, making your dazed eyes stray from the swooning crowd and onto his pointed features. 

And despite it all, you can’t help but feel betrayed. You thought that the two of you might have rapport at your obligation, if nothing else. “You- you didn’t even tell me. An entire engagement and you didn’t even bother to-”

“As a husband, I don’t owe my tch- wife anything.” His nose crinkles at your wandering eyes, the way your feet itched ever-closer to the surrounding people rather than the dancefloor. “Wishing it was someone else dancing with you?”

“Yes.” You’re spitting out before you can stop, trying oh-so-hard not to let your face twist into even a semblance of the fury steeped inside of you. “Anyone but a husband that I never wanted and never will want.”

“As if you deserve any bett-”

Your nails dig into one set of his fingers enough to engrave deep craters, almost enough to make him bleed. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on Earth.” 

Naoya seems stunned for a few seconds - but, alas, just when you’re hoping that you’ve shut him up for good, you’re faced with the fact that the universe isn’t that kind to you.

“You mean you would marry the tch- low-born.” He pulls you into an incredibly rough twirl when the music crescendos, pulling you even closer. It’s all you can do to not fight his grip- “I’m not below finishing off his other hand if that’s what it takes to break you.”

“What are you even talking about?”

Each word jagged. “The knight. You love him, don’t act stupid.” 

Raising your chin in defiance, “So what?” And just as much as confusion filled you, as did panic. Because Naoya’s grip was only getting firmer, his moves much harsher. Opening his mouth to spit out- 

“Pardon me, your highnesses.” A deep bass cuts in, startled- you almost give yourself whiplash peering up into those fathomless mahogany eyes. Yaga’s thin brows furrowing into something heavily-set, “May I cut in for a dance with the princess?”

You don’t wait for an answer from Naoya - and neither does Commander Yaga. Swiftly sweeping you into his engulfing embrace as the orchestra changes into something slightly more upbeat. 

Dressed in a thick suit adorned with even more medals than Naoya - ones you knew for sure were real, unlike his. And you couldn’t help but wonder just how good Gojo would look with his own.

“So…” Yaga starts, once more couples join the floor and his words can’t be heard over the shuffling of feet by anyone other than you. His calloused hands let you lead him through a waltz much more mellow than what Naoya had with you. You always did think that the leader of your knights was a gentle giant. “Begging you to forgive my indiscretion, ma’am but ah- trouble in paradise?”

“Trouble in hell, as expected.” You’re shuddering, gaze bouncing off of any flash of sapphire blue around the room. 

The man in front of you nods gravely, “Right right. I might not be a married man, but even I know that times like these often call for a walk in the lilac garden. You know, to- ah, clear your head.”

Quirking a brow, you stare at him. “What?”

And oh, Yaga simply looked like all the gold in the world couldn’t pay him enough for this. 

“Times like these-” He’s emphasizing, boring deeply into your eyes as if to mean every syllable to strike your very core. And it does. You don’t know why, but it does. “-call for a walk in the lilac garden.”

Oh.

“Oh.” 

Yaga’s lips twitch upwards into an almost-smile, and his rumbling voice is soft for the next few words. “Go, your highness.”

So you do.

You’re realizing, with an ache of such gentle appreciation, that the commander had danced you two until you were practically teetering on the massive veranda. Open to the garden; where every prim hedge, bush, and tree was gorgeously decorated until your eyes sparkled. 

Your breath bates…a choice. Head turning back to the luxuries of a royal ball that was none-the-wiser. 

Then, with a brief hug you bully Yaga into, you run - as much as the delicate heels digging into your feet would allow. Faster. 

If this was any other time, you might’ve felt disappointed at how you weren’t even stopping to admire the beauty of the moonlight-bathed garden. But right now, your heart was only pounding to go faster and faster. 

Nothing else mattered. 

Gojo was leaning on one pillar of the same white gazebo - and he was beautiful. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was a faerie of the night. 

Just a lone, tall silhouette that you could recognize so well; azure eyes twinkling, ivory strands of his hair shimmering with the silvery blue of the moon swimming amongst a dark sky. One he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of until he jolts his head towards the sharp snap! of a twig underneath your rapid feet.

“My…my princess.” He falls onto one knee. 

It all comes out in a whisper - as if Gojo had dreamed of this moment so many repeated times before and wasn’t sure if this was a dream, too.

“Satoru-!”

It wasn’t.

Gojo stands up to embrace you like it’d be the last time he ever would, like you were the one thing connecting him to this life and he was a dying man desperate to breathe. 

Strong arms winding around your waist, you’re pushed against one of the closed-off walls of the gazebo before you can even realize it. Arching off of the cool wooden surface and into his blistering heat. Into every ravenous, panted-out cloud of breath against your ear, “You came.”

He sounded pained. And you were sure you did just as much when you’re whimpering, “You disappeared.”

Gojo lets off a choked-up noise that could’ve been anything from affirmation to blatant shock. Half-lidded eyes boring deeply into yours, he shrugs off the jacket on his non-dominant arm to you with a low bow. 

“May I have this dance, my princess?”

You’re gasping at the sight of starchy white bandages around his other hand, fingers hesitantly falling into Gojo’s heated flesh. “S-Satoru, what happened ah-”

But he drifts you gently into a soundless dance, the distant crickets and swish! of lilac branches your only tune. 

And you never even understood just how much Gojo was a part of your life until he was moving through the exact same steps of waltzing that you’d learned growing up. The exact same once that you used to force him to sit through.

“I thought you were here because you read my letter.” Gojo mutters, lips so close now that they grazed the sensitive shell of your ear. 

You’re having trouble finding your voice, “What letter?” 

“The- the one that I left-” Just for you. His long lashes flutter open in shock, features contorted into something almost devastated. You wonder what made him feel this way. “-the one that I left in your chambers- about the- the prince, and the engagement and-”

“I got prepared for the ball in the dressing room today, I didn’t go to my room.” You’re continuing, voice small. Scared. “Satoru…you knew about the engagement?”

And Gojo’s voice told you everything you needed to know.

You feel your angry flare up hot and red, fists curling into Gojo’s delicate lapels. But that only proves to inch him even closer and make you sound much more breathless than you intended, “You knew about it and- and you didn’t even think to give me a hint that I was being carted off like a prize for some pompous asshat?”

He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, lips still so pink in the night, wobbling. “I…I couldn’t let you be married, I just couldn’t. I would give my life if it meant you get the freedom to choose who you wanted.” Your dance had stalled, and you almost feel disappointed. “But I’m a coward, and this-” Gojo throws his hands across, voice hitching, “-sneaking around, hiding, running away is the only way I could ever-”

“You should have told me. Not just in the letter.” You’re insisting, running your hands through your hair. Suddenly, something strikes you, “That arm- it’s because of Naoya, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t even have the energy to protest, and that only spurs you on even more. “I-I could have talked to my father- maybe the council and we could have made it so that…”

“So that what?” Gojo’s voice hardens as much as it could with you, which wasn’t very much at all. His fists clench and unclench at his sides like it was taking everything in him to not just…“So that you can be the laughingstock of the kingdom when you marry a low-born knight?”

He was right. They would never accept him, no matter how much you did.

You’re rendered speechless, shivering at the way he rubs his wet eyes with the back of his hand. “Oh, I don’t want you- I need you.” And he was so beautiful like this, just centimeters away from you in the escape of the night. “I need you. I need you, I need you- I need you more than the sun above my head, and the air that I breathe, my princess. You have bewitched me, and I am yours. But you cannot be mine-”

You breathe out, “Satoru…”

“-and maybe in another life-”

“Maybe in this one.”

Soft hands rover their way onto the sides of your arms, and Gojo shakes you feebly as if to snap you out of this hypnosis and urge you to run. Eyes wide, yearning. “I have always been yours, body and soul.”

You always have wondered whether there was a method to shut Gojo Satoru up. And, right now, you think you may have found the perfect answer. 

Because his entire towering figure just melts into your touch the very second you press your lips onto Gojo’s plump ones. Soft. Velvety. 

His nostrils flare through a breathy sigh when you tilt your head mere sultry degrees to deepen the kiss. You were addicted to the honey-coated taste of him, the flat drag of his scratchy tastebuds rolling over your loosening maw. 

“Ngh- my princess…” He’s puncturing your kisses with kiss after sloppy kiss, heavy hands wrapping around your body to wrangle you flush against his hardened ones. And you could count every glissade of his washboard abs through that thin poet’s blouse, “I love you.”

You’re not sure if it’s a fragment of your imagination, or- it’s not. 

Gojo manhandles you - and himself - to sit on the opulent gazebo bench with you plopped into his manspread lap, without breaking the kiss for a split-second. Because it hurt to part from your pretty, candied lips, to let those slippery strings of saliva break in the clouded air between you two.

Even if it was to purr out—

“I love you I love you I love you-” The straight edges of his pearly white teeth sinking into your lower lip, groaning from the back of his throat. And your jittery legs shift needily on his warm, meaty thighs, “-I love you.”

“Satoru—” Just about the only thing that you can say right about now, your tone resounds in Gojo’s ears and makes him grunt. Your fingers tangle into his cushy locks, “T-touch me.”

He snickers, one hand clawing onto the crown of your sweat-dampened scalp and wrenching your face away until you’re huffing and puffing cutely for more. “Mmm, how about we use those princess-y manners of yours, hm?”

“Please-”

“Louder.”

“Please.”

“Harlot.” Gojo slides in a looong few digits past those impossibly endless skirts of yours, making your thighs dampen with treacly webs of needy slick. Letting those doughy fingerpads fringe over the covered mound of your pussy, just the very edges. “That was my f-first kiss, y’know?”

He had been hopelessly saving it for you, after all. 

Your eyes roll all the way to the back of your weighted lids as soon as he teases you, mewling. “Was mine too, so we’re even-” Your hips shift in a lazy back n’ forth on top of his heated core, “-just- just want you to touch me.”

“I dunno…” Gojo drawls - drunken. And you feel the edges of his kiss-bitten lips warp around the very tip of your plummy tongue to suck on like his favorite gummy candy, “Wanna kiss my princess just a lil’ bit more.”

Panting, “K-kiss?”

“Mhm.” 

Your eyes shutter in a heady blink, oh-so-cutely ready to crash back into a filthy, filthy French kiss once more, Gojo pulls away-

A noise of disappointment fresh on your lips and just about to spill out, before he lifts you up easily with only a single beefy hand underneath your body. Splaying you out on the sprawling wooden table right beside you, your back hits the ice-cold surface and makes you gasp into the crisp night air.

The lecherous sound of it almost as loud as the sudden clack! of Gojo’s knees collapsing down onto the floor. Your face contorts into a wince because surely it sent a stinging pain up his legs?

“M’quite used to being on my knees for you, my princess.”

But he didn’t seem to care - didn’t even seem to notice when he was much more enamored with the heavenly sight down there.

“These lips-” He smears away your lacy layers upon layers, budging up to nuzzle the soft skin of your inner thighs. And shit- the filmy glaze over his eyes told you that Gojo doesn’t even realize the way his bubblegum pink tongue lolls out over the splotchy spatters of your juices. “-were tellin’ me they feel a little…left out.”

Your mouth waters with a syrupy lamination of saliva as soon as his murked breath strikes your cunt. And the drag of his rumbling bass is so delicious – you couldn’t help but imagine just how it would feel on you.

“Just- just get it on with it-” you’re hissing, fingers latching onto a few thick locks of ivory to drudge him ever-closer. 

“Impatient.”

As if Gojo himself wasn’t impatient. 

As if he wasn’t just leaking out thick wads of drool from the parted sides of his twisted grin at just the thought of tasting you. Sliding the pointed tip of his button nose languidly up the crevice of your puffed-up slit, he breathes you in and feels his cock twitch-

“Oh, princess.” Gojo can’t move, he can’t breathe if it wasn’t around your needy cunt right now. He’s ignoring those shooting bites of pain up the sides of his arm to tug on your useless garments.

Pulling- shit, he always did fucking hate how many layers you royalty had to wear. 

Pulling and pulling until the slow trawl of your undergarments by his nimble fingers wasn’t enough, and he just had to lunge his cottony head over to plummet his pearly whites into your panties and rip—!

A proper, gaping hole where your teary pussy was- and you looked even more gorgeous down there than he could’ve imagined.

Gojo’s face was blank, eyes wide and locked right at your geysering orifice like a man starved. For eons it felt like, until you were bucking up with pure need.

You’re humming in concern, struggling up onto your elbows to stare down at him. “Sa…Toru?”

And at your pretty voice, Gojo twitches. He gasps - full-bodied, like you’d just sent a zillion volts of shock down his sloped spine just by speaking to him. And he was well and fully intent on acting on it-

“Princess…princess princess princess—” Leaking from between his lips like he couldn’t stop, he hits the cute target of your cunt instantaneously with a fat thud of spittle, one. Two. Three, until your entrance was overflooding. He’s drawling the plummy end of his spit-glossed maw across your folds, “Oh, my princess. Just look at you.”

You feel his mess drool off the side of your plumpened pussylips and smear all across your peaked clit with only a simple touch of Gojo’s round-ended thumb. 

Just down-right filthy when he crashes forward to slot the curvaceous nub of his sweltering hot tongue over the brim of your hole. Drawing all over that snug orifice with slow patterns round n’ round-

“Toru–!” It’s the only thing you know at this point. “Toru.”

“Whaaat? Jealous, my princess?” The words clang in your head- and the realization hits you at the same moment Gojo’s thickly viscous swab of spit does on your own tongue. A soft nudge at your slackened chin urging you to swallow-

And he can’t waste a second, can’t spend even a mere moment away from his favorite spot between your legs. Because now that Gojo got a taste, he wants alllll of it.

Stumbling back down in haste to plant so many uncountable smooches on your bawling pussy folds. Skimming his tastebuds just along your quivering hole.

“Shit- shiiiit–” When you’d heard court ladies giggling about this, you didn’t think it would feel this good. Or maybe that’s just because it was Gojo stuffing himself impossibly deeper between your legs. “M-more, Toru–”

Your voice was cracking just as much as his fucking sanity was. 

Trilling out into frenzied shrills when Gojo swerves his eager thumb to pry open your gluey folds even further and give your fattened clit a flick!

You swear you feel Gojo depart his jaw with a giggle when your hips are bucking up pliably off the splintered table and into the bustling hot cavern of his mouth. More. “Easy there, your royal highness-”

“D-don’t call me that–” You’re whimpering, fingers tugging on Gojo’s bangs in some form of retaliation. But, of course it backfires on you just as soon as the force makes your knight moan.

“Wasn’t calling you that.” Gojo rolls his eyes, and your heart races in anticipation when the pointed edge of his chin strikes the drowned ends of your cunt. Lathering his pretty features in all the collective beads of slick raining fountaining out of you. His summer blue eyes flick downwards - and you can’t help but follow. “Was talking to her. Isn’t that right?”

Fuck.

You were fucked. 

And you were losing your mind when Gojo drags you roughly towards the edge of the table with only an ounce of his strength. Mouth making out greedily, heels digging into the fleshy mounds of his back, you can only sob and beg for more more more-

“S’fuckin’ chattier than my girl.” He’s nodding along with every saturated squelch after squelch! resonating in his eardrums - as if it was a full-on conversation with your noisy pussy. “Let’s hope that fiancé of yours doesn’t hah- f-fucking hear.”

But Gojo was acting like he wanted him to.

“Hope the- the king doesn’t find his princess bein’ eaten out by- ngh- a knight.” Barrelling long, slender inches of his index and pointer past your tight ring of mushy muscle. 

Your head throws back when he digs into the velvety depths of your pussy with just a single quirk-

“O-oh my god, Satoru–” You’re gasping in the flowery night air, tummy aching with every pump deeper because he was just so close to where you wanted him. “More- j-just a bit more.”

And yet, he acts like he doesn’t even hear you right now. 

Cupping over one massive palm over his ear and drifting ever-closer, “Wha’s that? C-can’t hear ya, girl- ngh ya gotta be- louder.”

Louder and louder he was getting with the vulgarly fast thrust graced upon your gummy walls. The sound only makes him giggle all drunk on you, “What’s that? Here? That turn you on? Hmmm…”

And just when you’re letting your vision blur with stars- just when you think it couldn’t get any better-

“Mmmm– wan’ another taste-” 

It’s the last thing your ringing ears hear before Gojo’s lurching forwards and burying his nose into your sensitive clit to give your overstuffed entrance a leeengthy lick. Right at the very split-second the globular edges of his digits scratch at that magical spot. 

“W-woah.” Your head snaps up blearily to steal a glimpse at what had Gojo Satoru’s voice so airy n’ cracking in awe. 

Only to see him fluttering his lathered lashes, the slick-gleaming apples of his cheeks blushing. Like some maiden in love. “Got even wetter f’me, your highness.” He’s breathing out, spitting out another voluminous cobweb of drivel and watching the way it sliiides across with the ribbons of slick pouring out of you. “Ohhhh, even b-better than any candy- better than a-any dessert.”  

You yelp when one rugged and grabs a rough handful of your ass and latches his lips even sloppier against your hole. “T-Toru your arm!”

“Oh? This?” He’s glancing down at the bandages as if he’d forgotten they were ever there. “S’nothing for your- hah- personal knight. Doesn’t even hurt, I’d- I’d rather die than let a stupid injury get in the way of what I’ve been dreaming of for aaaages.”

The dual points of pleasure make your toes curl, every part of your body shaking-

Gojo was out of control now. Crazed.

High-pitched bouts of giggles escaping him, muffling around where his candy-glazed cerise lips were latched around your clit and sucking. He makes sure to hold fatal eye contact while he hollows out his scorching cheeks and drags the fleshy nub. 

 “M-making out with your pussy- your pretty, pretty pussy, my princess.” Your heartbeat echoes in rapid staccato with the vicious thud! thud! thud! of his neatly crowned fingertips pecking your g-spot. Each of his puffed-out gruffs making your tongue loosen in a please, “Making you s-so loud, making you feel so good.”

And without even realizing it, he’s rovering the papping brims of his fingers to give your clit a spank. Letting the syrupy beads slide allll the way down his tongue - letting you watch. 

“S’all me.” Gojo slurs out. “Me- me me me me–” Steady rivulets of slick bubbling from the edges of his tongue when his sinful motions get faster. Harder. “Gonna ask who m-made you feel this way n’ it’s me. Your Satoru.”

More ravenous. 

Swirling around slow probes of his sensory tips, it glazes his skin all the way down to his knobbly wrist in a thick coat of sap. Memorizing every gooey ridge and crevice inside your tight channel - shit, Gojo feels his ruddied tip spurt out a jetstream of buttery pre in his pants. 

He thinks he might just burst in his pants if you don’t finish right this second. 

But luckily - or unluckily - for him, you do. Right this very second, after being wrung dry underneath only a few more lapping slashes of his ferocious tongue, tweaking your buttony clit until you cum.

And oh, you’re so pretty when you do.

Your head throwing back with a broken moan of Toru–! It takes every ounce of trained will in his drunken body to not break off from your gooey pussy and watch the way your beautiful face twists. 

Fucked out.

“O-oh, shit–” You’re practically sobbing at this point, wrist aching with just how hard you were pushing Gojo’s readily used face into your fluttering core. Your vision blurs with sparks n’ stars, “-H-how are you so good. Unfair, unfair—”

Babbling away such nonsense with that smart mouth of yours, Gojo thinks he sees utter heaven when your hot juices flood inside his mouth in generous heaps.

Lugging down an open palm underneath his chin to greedily collect the leaking beads that sprinkly in a shiny sheen off of his chin, he finds himself moaning. “Shhh, your knight’s here. Give it t’me– use me, my princess.”

And use him you were. 

Riding out each white-hot peak of your high with slobbering grinds all across Gojo’s beautiful features. Your clit catches on the poking ridges of his mouth and nose and you squeal- “Ngh- b-better when you’re shut up like th-this, Satoru–”

Just for that, he’s spanking your goopy pussy thoroughly. 

All the way until those shots of electricity down your bowed spine are nothing more but prickly tingles, all the way until your thundering ears calm down and you can hear each damp thwack!

All the way until your high has bated and yet, Gojo is still snogging each swollen fold of your pussy like a feast. “M’sensitive–” You sniffle, and he doesn’t even seem to hear you. “Fuh-fuck, Toru, keep doing that n’ m’not gonna let you ngh fuck me.” 

That’s what finally gets his attention. 

You can feel your lips burst with a slight giggle when all it takes is a quick nanosecond for Gojo’s plumpened mouth to jerk away from your cunt with the snap! of wiry slick.

Scrambling onto unsteady feet, he’s teetering over the edge of the wood ever-so-slightly. Muscular body casting a shadow on yours, and you think he’s never looked sexier.

Fawny strands of frosty white curtaining Gojo’s half-lidded eyes, thick thighs pressing against yours shivering; and even from your position homed towards the end of the table, your eyes catch sight of such a massively outlined bulge. 

Staggering. 

One that made your hands ghost down Gojo’s tensed abs, and he’s throwing his perspiration-dampened head with a whine. 

“Need you, Satoru–” You’re managing out, strangled and messy. You’re sure you sound just as yearning as you feel. Fingers tug-tug-tugging impatiently on his gauzy clothes, “Want- you- out of these-” 

And whatever the princess wants, the princess gets. 

It’s as if on command - Gojo’s shedding his billowy shirt like it burned him. And very, very soon were his snug pants to follow, your layers, his sanity-

“Hngh- please.” He’s gruffing out, flinching just as soon as you cup his cheeks to smear away the remaining traces of slick glimmering on top of his blushing skin. Your touch was electric. Tonality painfully hoarse, “Let me fuck you- wanted it for so long. Let me fuck you please.”

Your drenched pussylips stream out a damp spot right across where you could feel his inflated vein poke between your folds. And he felt so…long. “Yes- yes, please.”

Getting the princess to say please?

He’s nodding his head shakily - Gojo could pass out, he could cu- 

Oh, just a few taps of his mushroom tip on the outer edges of your pussy and he spots something creamy topping over your mound like icing. Sweat-slicked brows furrowing, Gojo nudges in even closer to where pooling splotches of cum pours from the strawberry pink divot right in the middle of his head.

He’s cumming and he couldn’t stop. 

Couldn’t do anything but whine at the tender bolts of bliss aching all the way from his toes to his fuzzy head.

“S-Satoru did you just-”

“Shut up.” Oh, you would have his head later for this. “Shut up- shut up and just…”

N’ so he curls a hand at his bulky base and draws out a thick swab at the torrents of seed decorating your cute cunt. Making sure the milky sap formulated a glossy cap on his crownhead, before pushing rigorously in-

“F-f-fuuuuck–” he keens out, a thin line of sweat trekking down the side of his temples. And if he pushed just an inch further, Gojo could feel his hooded eyes well up with fucking tears- “Tight so tight s-sooo hot- so…”

You’re mewling, “Deeper- c-c’mon.”

He was fucking you like he didn’t even realize it - like he was enchanted by each mindless rut pulled from the carnal depths of his hips. 

Two warm hands latch on in a vice-like grip on the delicious curve of your hips, and he’s holding your body still and pushing and pushing and pushing-

“Sh-shit!” Gojo’s voice pitches up embarrassingly high at the end of his slew of swears, buttering up your insides in a muggy few ribbons of pre in response. “But s-so tight- dunno if it’ll even…even fit.”

He sounded hypnotized. 

“Are you- ngh! are you alright, Satoru?” You’re musing out, eyes glassy with a solid combination of lust and utter concern. Before you know it, your hand is reaching out to stroke the ba-dump–! thudding against his pecs.

“No.”

And it takes only the slightest graze of your doughy fingerpads against his flaming hot skin, the slightest touch from you before Gojo rudely swats your hand away and bottoms out-

You don’t even know what you were mad at- were you mad?

You really can’t even remember. Not when the crowned tip of Gojo’s incredible length was planting a sweet peck right into the sponged ends of your cervix, the entirety of his shaft spearheading you so deep that you think he might just be fucking into your lungs. 

So big that he didn’t even have to try to rub the puffy zig-zag of his veins along your sweetest spots, even the most minute gyrations made your toes curl. 

Splitting you apart. Stroking the weepy base of your slit with the hot, rounded sack of his breeder balls so right that it made you putty in his hands.

“Don’t t-touch me, my princess.” Gojo’s nuzzling his tear-stuck cheek against your own, you could feel the warble of his unsteady confessions. “Don’t touch me or I’ll…I’ll cum.”

And when has Gojo Satoru ever lied to you? Well, the upturned jolt of his split-ended tip right into the target of your mushy cervix told you that he wasn’t.

Gojo’s sinking down the edges of his teeth into his wobbly lower lip, he’s forcing his eyes to narrow down n’ obscure his crystal clear image of you to stop himself from cumming. 

“So beautiful, can’t help it–” His breath hitches once he’s pushing apart your trembly thighs and stretching them over the two ends of his broad shoulders. Your ankles pitching down onto the rippling plush of his toned deltoids. “So perfect.”

“S-sweet-talker.” You whisper, mouth as dry as the Sahara with how his thick circumference was stretching out your rubbery walls until they were seering. 

But if Gojo heard then he didn’t snap back - he was too pussydrunken to.

Moving on instinct, on that carnal twinge inside his brain that forced his powerful limbs to lock your ankles with one hand behind his head. To brace an engulfing palm right beside your head and lower himself down, down, down into a-

A mating press. 

Gojo Satoru had you in a fucking mating press.

“So mine.”

And he was pounding all his aching inches into you like it would be the last time. Like he was mazing through your adhesive-like walls and plummeting the leaky end of his cock to knock against your very womb. 

Gojo’s nose crinkles at the sheer warmth you were coating him in, dripping fresh slathers of slick in rings ‘round his hilt. He shivers as it drools down his tight balls, “I’m…I’m really fucking you- ngh! I’m fucking you, my princess.”

“Yes- yes yes yes—” Your mouth parts ajar, and you don’t know what it floods more with - your pathetic whines, or saliva. Coating a treacly river from each curl of your lips, “More. More, Toru.”

Oh.

You might have just broken him with that. 

Even through your fucked-out stupor, you’re gaping at the way that the hand beside your head curls into an unyielding fist. It has to.

Otherwise, Gojo’s plump cockhead would be sugarcoating your sloppy hole in much more than just copious amounts of sticky precum. He would’ve cum.

“M-more?” You hear from above you, your knight’s bulging pecs vibrating with the plea. Oh, was it a plea - strained, shaking. Gojo sounded as if he was two seconds away from simply bursting into crazed laughter, “More…more. My princess wants- fuck! More?”

Fat ends of his fingers lock around the sides of your cheeks and force you into such an unladylike pout. “Say it- say it, little royal.”

“Shit!” Your core arches up into his hardened one, just as Gojo knew it would when angling his hips juuust right to give your bulging g-spot a long, hard swipe. Your throbbing clit scratching against his pale happy trail. “Yes- ngh yes I want more. Want more, Satoru!”

More. 

And more was exactly what you were going to get. More than you could handle.

Your thighs ache with the struggle to stay open when Gojo tightens his lock around your ankles. Gruffing out a tight, “Take it then.”

He was so sexy, the swelling flex of his biceps enough to make your pussy drool and him slip n’ slide pliantly. Jackhammering away rugged pumps that you feel all the way in your leaden throat.

Your most favorite spots are so bruised that they’re almost tender, curling the base of your spine with tendrils of bliss that make you yelp.

“O-ohhh my god—” The side of his neck dampens as you’re leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses that make the man pinning you down shiver. His sculpted abs twinging with every massage down your front, “Just like that, a-always wanted to fuck you, Toru–”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Gojo hiccups, the expression upon his features plain pained. Voice dipping into a whine, “Don’t know what y-you’re doing t’me.”

But now that you were babbling away, you couldn’t stop. Not even when he’s speeding up his vigorous cadence until the globes of your ass are left stinging, “M’serious– I always wanted-”

“Shut up shut up- shut up- my princess.” You don’t think that either of you were even lucid at this point, and every pap! of skin-on-skin is followed by the screeching creak of the table below you. Gojo rolls his eyes down at you fondly, “Gotta m-make you cum so you can shut up.”

Otherwise you were going to drive him wild until there’s no turning back.

Before you can let off a moan - or fervently agree - he thumbs over the perked hood of your clit. Drawing- circles? Hearts? No, his own name. 

A tedious little S-A-T-O-R-U that makes your gushing walls clench oh-so-tightly around his sweltering length. Tummy tightening into something so close to shattering. 

And Gojo was rough. Snickering at the way you whine, spilling out wadded volumes of spittle between your parted lips. He breathes, “Gonna make you cum- g-gonna make my princess cum.” You swear he nods down at your pussy and grins, “G-gotta be a good girl f’me, m’kay? Gonna be a good- girl- and…”

His hips slap sloppily against yours, overworked thumb stuttering on a swooping U over your sensitive nub. And the tension in the air pulls tight, tight, tight like the most delicate of strings, before crashing- “-cum.”

You don’t know who cums first - you or Gojo. 

All you know is that as soon as your mind explodes with bursts of bliss - his poor cock does, as well. 

Head toppling backwards, overfilled pussy slopping out waterfalls of sweet, sweet juices, it’s all you can do not to sob. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck fuck-” Your nails rake red, red lines all down his expansive back. Pulling him in even closer until all he can manage are dirty lil’ half-thrusts to pound you through your high. “M’cumming, Toru-”

“Y-yeah?” Gojo’s stuttering wetly, sloppily. Pushing the fat battering of his fountaining orifice into the groove of your g-spot over n’ over n’ over. You didn’t know how anything could feel so good. “N’ who made you cum, hm? Who’s f-fucking this pretty pussy, hm?”

“You-” You’re prattling, “You, Satoru.”

“Fuck.” Gojo gapes in wide-eyed craze, breath hitching when you lean over to drag your tongue over the sappy trickle of drool escaping his rose-red lips. “G-gonna make me cum again, swear-”

And he does.

“Can- can we hold hands while I hck! fuck you through your high, my princess?” He bats his lashes, a delicate blush taking over the tips of Gojo’s ears when you lace your fingers together. 

You can feel the splat! of even more heavy seed hitting the bottom of your pussy, swashing a warm second coating to your elastic walls every time Gojo thrusts. He was so solidly inside. Pinpointing specks of pure white with each swab. 

So full. So much of his voluminous ounces that it’s taken to tipping over from between your pussylips and forming a creamy puddle below you. You’re slipping all over it with every slither of Gojo’s cock.

But neither of you can even think to bring yourselves to be disgusted. To care for etiquette. 

Because Gojo drifts his hand over an invisible line where your tummy was being bloated with his length and his cum- and you find yourself aching for more all over again. 

“This looks…” Gojo starts, syllables scratchy and jagged. He’s practically whimpering - whimpering - at the sight of that lecherous cylindrical bulge being fucked into you. 

You’re dripping with him, and his cock twitches ferally at the thought of you all round and glowing. What a pretty mama you’d make. “...looks like the n-next heir to the throne will be a Gojo, my princess.”

Oh, you liked the thought of that.

And looking at Gojo Satoru now - eyes still not fully focused with how ruined he was, skin blushed the same maidenly shade of red that his slobbering mushroom tip was, pretty smile directed at you and only you in this lilac-scented haze - you didn’t think you wanted it any other way.

But, of course, Gojo would never want it any other way, either. Never. 

He clears his throat, sapphire gaze hardening; the intensity of it sending chills sprinting down your spine. Burning with a fervent I love you I love you I love you.

Massive hands intertwined with yours pull into your line of vision, and Gojo takes his dear time pressing a lingering peck onto each n’ every single one of your knuckles. But particularly on the one above your left ring finger.

This was it. 

“My princess…run away with me?”

.

.

.

“Didya hear ‘bout that Prince Naoya?”

“Oh yes- had his bride stolen away by a knight, I hear. Put a knife to his throat n’ took her away in the dead of night!”

“Hogwash! The boy was a looker, she went quite willingly, see- I always did think that Naoya wasn’t good ‘nough for our princess.”

“Wonder what happened after? That Zenin bunch was quite furious I hear, that bratty prince is still out for blood. But ol’ Naobito and some commander came to the rescue- Somethin’ about corruption and Jinichi…”

“Bah! Who cares about that? S’the biggest royal affair of the century- a handsome knight sweeping away the beloved princess? They’re swoonin’ n’ calling him the Knight of Roses already. All I wanna know is how the young couple is doing!”

Yaga rolls his eyes at other rambunctious customers churning gossip-mill, a pint clutched tightly in one hand and a scrap of paper in the other. 

Honestly, he comes to the pub for once to escape from palace duties - and the palace duties seem to want to escape with him! 

And even after so many months since that engagement party fiasco? News really did trickle down slowly when royal scandals were so often covered.

Oh, whatever. He muses, thumb gliding over the glossy parchment- some new innovation from kingdoms beyond the sea, according to what the eagerly-accompanied writing had said. A…a photograph, you had called it.

And Gojo’s surprisingly intricate drawing of you fiddling with the ah- camera gave him an idea of the machinery, though- most of the sketches were of you. All of them, actually.

Yaga gazes on in slight wonderment at the perfect black and white depiction of your smile, rivalling the one of Gojo Satoru’s beside yours. Beaming, sleeves rolled up and fatigued with a day of hard work, so in love. 

It was oh-so-positively sweet.

The cherry on top? Well, Yaga couldn’t quite decide between the matching bands glinting on each of your left ring-fingers, the glimpse of a pretty lil’ cottage behind you two, and the massive bouquet of undoubtedly deep red roses Gojo was presenting you with.

Or perhaps it was the hand you were resting absent-mindedly on the obviously rounded curve of your tummy.

How fortunate, he tucks away the photograph into his coat with a smile and orders another pint. Knight of Roses, indeed. 

A/N. Yearning is my kink mhm. Hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[tender-rosiey]

lock jaw — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: when I said silence, I meant it literally btw <3

it starts the way it always does—with him talking.

satoru loves to talk. he thrives on it, really.

his voice fills every space he enters, a mix of cocky and teasing remarks, words tumbling out of him like they were just waiting for an audience.

he has no problem being that audience himself, either, monologuing even when no one’s listening.

and right now? right now, he’s very much talking at you.

“—so obviously, I had to step in, because nanamin was totally going about it the wrong way, y’know? I mean, the guy’s got skill, sure, but zero flare. no pizzazz. no—hey, are you even listening?”

you are. technically. but you don’t give him the satisfaction of confirming it.

instead, you tilt your head up at him, one brow raised in that way that always makes his grin twitch wider.

satoru doesn’t like being ignored. that’s why you do it.

and, sure enough, he scoffs. “oh, I see how it is. you think you’re cute, huh?”

you hum, noncommittal.

his fingers drum against the table, restless energy leaking into movement. “it’s a good thing you’re married to me, ‘cause—”

you lift a hand.

it’s not much. just a simple flick of your wrist.

the moment your fingers move, his words catch, cut off like someone pressed pause on a song mid-verse. his mouth is still open, brows furrowed like he can’t quite believe it.

oh, but he believes it.

your technique has always been a thorn in his side. you don’t know what makes it work, just that it does.

no one else can silence him like this—literally silence him, rendering every word, every noise, completely null the second you decide you’ve had enough.

it drives him insane.

you let a few beats of silence pass before you drop your hand. his voice snaps back into existence, mid-word.

“—ain’t no way you just did that again,” he grumbles, like this is somehow the first time.

his mouth pulls into a pout, the corners twitching with the threat of a smirk. “y’know, most wives enjoy hearing their husband talk.”

“I do,” you say, because it’s true.

satoru leans in, one hand propped beneath his chin. “so? why do you keep shutting me up, then?”

you lift your fingers again, just slightly, and watch the way his whole body stiffens in response. he goes silent before you even activate it, eyes narrowing.

“I swear—”

your fingers twitch.

nothing.

his mouth slams shut anyway, like muscle memory has kicked in. his whole face scrunches up, torn between irritation and reluctant amusement.

it takes him a second to realize you never actually used your technique, and when he does, his eye twitches.

“oh, you suck.”

you smile. “I know.”

satoru groans, dragging a hand down his face. “how’d I get stuck with you?”

you just hum, pretending to think. “bad luck?”

he snorts.

and just like that, whatever annoyance he was pretending to have dissolves into something else—something warmer. his head tilts, his voice dropping into that low, teasing hum. “or maybe good luck.”

you don’t let yourself react, but a wave of warmth rushes through you anyway. his eyes gleam behind his glasses, sharp and knowing. he feels it, too.

it’s always been like this with satoru—this push and pull, this game of who can get under whose skin first. he hates being shut up. but he loves being shut up by you.

that’s probably why he keeps trying.

the next time he catches you alone, it’s in the kitchen.

you’re getting water, half-distracted, when arms loop around your waist from behind, a chin dropping onto your shoulder.

“whatcha doin’?”

“getting water,” you deadpan.

“oooh. riveting.” his arms tighten just slightly, like he’s trying to keep you there. “y’know, I was thinking.”

“that’s new.”

satoru gasps, scandalized. “rude!”

he nuzzles closer, all dramatic offense and fake hurt. “as I was saying—I was thinking about how unfair it is that you get to shut me up whenever you want, but I can’t do the same to you.”

you sip your water, unimpressed. “sounds like a you problem.”

“exactly! and since we’re married, your problems are my problems—so really, we should fix this together.”

you know where this is going. you don’t like where it’s going.

“…no.”

“but I didn’t even—”

“no.”

his arms squeeze tighter, his voice dropping into that saccharine lilt. “c’mooon. just one little pact—no more silencing me, and in return…”

“in return what?” you ask, humoring him.

“in return, I’ll—uh—” he pauses. “I’ll try not to annoy you as much?”

you turn your head just enough to squint at him. “you could just not annoy me in the first place.”

“pfft. impossible.”

you roll your eyes, setting your glass down. “then no deal.”

satoru pouts. “you’re no fun.”

“I’m plenty fun.”

“not to me.”

you lift a hand.

his mouth clamps shut instantly.

“…I hate you.”

you drop your hand. “no, you don’t.”

his pout deepens. “no, I don’t.”

and because he’s satoru—because he’s infuriating—he suddenly dips forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.

it’s quick, but deliberate, with his lips lingering just enough to tease you. by the time you turn to scold him, he’s already slipping away, whistling like nothing happened.

the sneaking doesn’t stop.

if anything, it gets worse.

he tests you in public now, dropping snarky comments just to see if you’ll silence him mid-sentence.

he tries to get the upper hand, too—kissing you without warning, murmuring things low enough that only you can hear, things designed to throw you off balance.

and it works. sometimes.

but the thing about satoru? he talks a lot.

he always has.

and that’s exactly why you win.

it happens in front of his students.

which, really, is something he should’ve seen coming.

you’re standing off to the side, arms crossed, watching as megumi practices his stance. nobara is stretching. yuji is bouncing on his feet like he’s ready to fight someone on the spot.

it’s peaceful. quiet.

and, naturally, satoru can’t have that.

he claps his hands together. “alright, kiddos! who’s ready for an essential, life-changing lesson?”

yuji perks up immediately. “ooh, what kinda lesson?”

“the most important kind,” satoru declares, straightening his posture like he’s about to reveal the secrets of the universe. “a lesson in style.”

megumi exhales sharply. nobara groans. you don’t even have to look to know they’re both already tuning him out.

but he’s not done.

“you may think you know fashion, but you don’t. not like me. there are levels to this—depths of drip, if you will—like an expertly curated wardrobe of absolute perfection.”

he gestures grandly to himself. “and lucky for you, I am both your teacher and your fashion icon.”

nobara shoots you a look. “this is every day for you, isn’t it?”

“unfortunately.”

satoru hears it. of course, he hears it.

he places a hand over his chest like you’ve wounded him. “unfortunately?” he echoes, all faux devastation. “sweetheart, you wound me.”

yuji chokes on a laugh. “wow, sensei. that was fast.”

“you don’t get it, yuji.” satoru points at you, sunglasses slipping down his nose.

“this woman right here? my beloved, my precious, my better half? she is cruel.” he sighs, tilting his head dramatically.

“every day, she shuts me up without a second thought. do you know how unfair that is? the strongest sorcerer in the world, silenced—just like that.”

megumi, who has absolutely witnessed this before, doesn’t even look up. “sounds like you deserve it.”

satoru gasps. “et tu, megumi?”

“yeah,” megumi deadpans. “et me.”

satoru clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “see? this is what I deal with. betrayal. disrespect. my own wife using her technique against me at every turn.”

yuji raises a hand. “wait, wait—so she actually can shut you up?”

“oh, she can,” satoru grumbles. “and she does.”

nobara perks up, eyes gleaming. “no way. prove it.”

satoru freezes.

you see the exact moment realization dawns on him—what he’s just done, the challenge he’s issued on your behalf.

you see it in the way his jaw shifts, the way his weight shifts ever so slightly on his heels.

you raise a brow. “you want me to prove it?”

satoru narrows his eyes. “don’t you dare.”

you lift your hand.

“don’t you—”

silence.

satoru’s mouth is still open, but no sound comes out. nothing. not even the beginnings of a protest. his lips move, forming words you can’t hear, before he snaps his mouth shut entirely.

the silence stretches.

then—

“oh my god,” nobara breathes.

yuji loses his mind.

megumi simply nods. “good.”

satoru’s eye twitches. he points at you, accusing, but there’s nothing he can do. you smile sweetly.

after a long beat, you drop your hand.

“—believe you just did that in front of my students,” he huffs, voice returning in the middle of a sentence.

his sunglasses slide down his nose, revealing wide, scandalized eyes. “my own wife, betraying me in front of my kids.”

“they asked me to.”

“yeah,” nobara pipes up. “that was amazing. do it again.”

satoru splutters. “hey! whose side are you on?”

yuji is grinning. “I mean, sensei, that was kinda cool.”

“it was humiliating!”

“you deserved it.”

“I did not!”

you hum, faux thoughtful. “you kinda did.”

satoru stares at you, horrified. “et tu, my love?”

“yeah.” you smirk. “et me.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or i throw cat hair on your black clothes

check out my buy me a coffee!

[garyusama]

𑁤⸝⸝ you greet your close friends by hugging them, regardless of whether it’s a girl or a boy, but satoru gets a little annoyed when suguru holds you in his arms for too long, knowing well that gojo secretly likes you, so geto cheekily plays with your hair, watching his best friend’s reaction.

“suguru, we need to talk.” he grabs geto by the elbow, smiling sweetly at you, and then looks at him furiously.

“guys, where are you going?”

[mechsangel]

best friends forever!

synopsis: suguru, satoru & you are best friends… or more, who knows

warnings: gojo bullying, gn!reader, all three of you are into each other but dont wanna admit it, random texts between you guys, no timeline for this one cause idk when this is going down tbh, part one this will be continued (maybe)

<3 — tags: @krispywhisperswhispers @not-aya @jinxiewritings @rllyobsessedgirlie @p1nkfl0wers

[lilutian]

“you’d go to war for me?” you teased,

“i’d do anything for you,” he whispered against your lips

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞?

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

part two of wanna be yours

summary: the aftermath of you and your husband's arranged marriage, but the better side of it. gojo satoru just loves you so much, that he's willing to bring down armies just for you

warnings: 18+ mdni, arranged marriage, very brief misunderstandings but they work it out, eating out (fem!reciving), fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, he doesn’t pull out

word count: 6k

note: part two is finally done! and i think this is gonna be the last installment for this so don't ask for another part bc i will cry. as always, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading, she's the loml <3

jjk masterlist

there were a few things that changed after your night with satoru. 

as he promised, he got a bigger bed for his room. he promptly ordered all your things to be moved in with his, and it didn’t take long for all your belongings to melt with his. it was different from what you were used to, but you welcomed those nights when you’d curl into his chest, tracing patterns on his bare skin as his fingers ran up and down your back as he listened to you speak. 

mornings you would find him littering kisses all over your naked body, or you’d find him in between your legs, waking you up in his own unique (much appreciated) way. satoru was insatiable and you couldn’t find a bone in your body to deny him.

he smiled more, his eyes bright as he woke up to your cheek smushed into his pecs on other mornings, not wanting to wake you up as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and pulled you closer to his body. 

everybody around you two talked in hushed tones whenever you’d pass by, obvious confusion laced in their tones, but somewhat glad to see the tension between you and your husband had simmered down. 

“he seems happier,” suguru told you one day as you leaned over the balcony, watching satoru spar with one of his men, your arms crossed over the railing as you glanced over at the man. 

“really?” you felt a faint smile tug at your cheeks as you tried to contain yourself. 

he hummed, his back to the railing, his legs crossed. he was dressed in his clans’ colors, a black tunic embroidered with red stitching covering his chest. he had come around more often ever since the feast, and he seemed more open to talk to you. 

the winds were picking up, the seasons were changing. it had been weeks since your night with him, but it felt like a lifetime had passed since then. satoru spent less time training and fighting, making as much time for you as he possibly could. you had your chair moved so that you could sit next to him during dinners, and in his free time he’d take you around the land on your horse, his face relaxed and gleaming whenever you’d turn around to look at him.

“well,” he turned to look over his shoulder, looking down at satoru, his white hair turning into a blur as he rhythmically and methodically moved, evading the wooden swords’ jabs with the agility only a seasoned fighter could have, “not right now. i think he’s trying to show off.” you snorted, rolling at your eyes at his statement (which was most likely the truth) and continued to watch him spar. sometimes you forgot of satoru’s rank amongst the other men, and watching him in this sort of state reminded you just how much he must have picked up on those years spent apart. 

“i’m happy for you two,” he said after a beat of silence passed, offering you a genuine smile as he said it. he was usually more stoic than your husband, never giving too much information off from his face unless it was absolutely necessary, and catching him in these moments would always startle you. 

“thank you,” you murmured, heat blossoming across your cheeks and neck as you kept your stare focused on your husband, not wanting to come off as too giddy. truth be told, you’ve never felt happier. 

you couldn’t remember the last time you woke up with a smile and slept with one on your face. every day it seemed that satoru was trying to win your love in different ways. he was so different from what you had seen from him the last few months, but just like the old satoru you remembered. he was teasing, always finding ways to make you laugh. 

“he told you he was going to be gone for a bit, yeah?” suguru readjusted his hair, making it so that it didn’t keep flying into his face. you nodded, holding tightly onto your clothes in hopes of preserving more heat. 

“yes,” you blew some hot air into your hands as you rubbed them together, “he said you’d be going with him.” 

“he’ll be needing as much help as he can get where he’s going,” suguru murmured, but didn’t try to hide his words as he tapped his fingers on his wrist. 

“what does that mean?” you balanced your elbows on the stone railing beneath you, brows furrowed as he shrugged nonchalantly.  

“he didn’t tell you what it was for?” if satoru was one who wasn’t above gossip then suguru was one who stirred it up. 

“he said it was a meeting with one of the eastern clans,” you say, rubbing yourself. your nose was freezing. suguru nodded, which made you feel a little more at ease. 

“did he tell you why?” you shook your head, indifferent as you looked back at your husband. he was shaking hands with the poor kid who went against him, barely breaking a sweat as he threw his sword to the side, a wide smile on his face as he looked up at you. 

“business,” you murmur, not quite giving him your full attention anymore because satoru was walking near where you were standing, craning his neck to look up at you as he grinned. 

“is he bothering you?” he called out, his chest moving up and down with labored breaths. he tried to make it seem like sparring didn’t take anything out on him and you nodded, smiling back at him. 

“i’m about to throw him off!” you called down, leaning on the railing as you gripped it tightly to ensure your balance and satoru gleamed, suguru scoffing at the interaction. 

“did you see me fighting?” he asked, and you wanted to chuckle at his words, the hopeful smile on his face as he wiped at his nose, the cold getting to him as well. 

“you fought very valiantly!” and suguru thinks that without your words and your praise, satoru would be a mess, not able to function. he wasn’t sure how he did it months without it, because he doesn’t seem to live without it.

his cheeks flush a cute pink, and you want to bottle up the way his smile grows.

“you two make me sick.” he groaned, pushing himself off the railing as he made his way inside, throwing you a playful wink as he shut the doors. the sun was beginning to set and you could see the bits of night peaking through the sky. 

you watched as satoru disappeared through the stairs, likely coming up to see you and you drummed your fingers on your arm as thoughts traveled through your mind. 

despite his playful tone, suguru’s words left a bitter taste on your tongue. even as satoru found you, pulling you close to him as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips you couldn’t get it out of your mind. he led you back inside, talking nonstop about what his men needed to improve on, but your mind began going blank.

---

dinner that night was just as it always was, but you still couldn’t find it in yourself to push past what you’d been told earlier. 

“i’m thinking of having a winter feast during the solstice,” satoru said, drinking his wine as his fingers played with yours, running down the skin of your palm as he absentmindedly pressed his thumb to the back of your hand. 

“sounds good,” you said, not quite listening as you pushed some potatoes around your plate. you should have gotten past this awkwardness to talk to him about these things, but that must have just been wishful thinking. 

“this year seems to be colder than the last, so i’ll ask shoko to see if she can bring back some furs from her clan.” he continued, oblivious to your state of being. 

“okay,” you blankly said, giving him

a short glance only to see him in his own world, plotting. 

“i’ll have one of the southern tribes see if they can bring any pomegranates in, and…” he trailed off, noticing your stare boring into the table. his fingers squeezed yours, bringing your attention to him. 

“are you alright?” he asked, and you quickly nodded, plastering on a false smile as you picked up your spoon, wringing your hand out of his. 

“mhm!” you scooped some vegetables into your mouth, spending an excessive amount of time chewing as you felt his eyes bore into the side of your face. 

he didn’t seem convinced in the slightest, a brow raising at your strange behavior. if you were trying to be funny you had an odd way of showing it. 

“do you feel sick?” he moved closer, his hands finding your forehead, pressing against your cheeks as he felt for your temperature. 

you gently pushed his hand away, holding his wrist as your feet moved quickly in anxiousness. 

this should be easier than you made it out to be. 

he looked worried, finger itching to feel you again despite your silent pleas. it was second nature for him to care about you. if he didn’t spend half the time hopelessly in love with you, he spent the other half hoping that you were doing alright. he wanted only the best for you, and vehemently tried to make up for the months he didn’t do so. 

“no, i feel fine. but,” you sighed, rubbing at your eyes as he patiently waited for you to find your words. you knew he wouldn’t lie to you, he didn’t have the ability to, but the way suguru spoke to you made it seem like there was something he wasn’t telling you, “why are you leaving? i feel as though,” you swallowed thickly, “as though i don’t fully know why.”

satoru sat back in his chair, his eyes squinting as he looked at you. it’s not like he didn’t like being asked things, but normally you didn’t seem this apprehensive about talking to him. he welcomed your queries, answering them to the best of his abilities, but he couldn’t remember the last time you seemed this nervous to talk to him about something. 

and he knew that he should have told you this before you asked, but he put it off. his fingers ran through his hair as he breathed deeply through his hair. 

“it’s with one of the eastern clans,” he started, taking another sip of his wind as his hands found yours again, as if he couldn’t breathe without having you near in some way, “do you remember that girl, the one from the feast?” 

despite him not being very specific, there was only one memorable girl from that feast. the one that he disappeared with four half an hour before he came back. your jaw clenched, nodding stiffly as you moved in your seat. he noticed your shift in emotions, trying to hide his own as he continued.

“i told you what she had tried to do, hm?” satoru seemed a bit awkward in his wording, and if it were in any other case it probably would have made you laugh. but you can only nod again, his words nothing new. he had told you about it after he spent the night with you, answering your questions as to why he had left with her. 

you could barely remember her name, but you distinctly recalled what satoru had said about her. how she had tried to come onto him, how he had forced her off. you hadn’t seen her around since, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t fully stopped making her way into your mind at random times during the day.

“ i had her clan cut off from trading with ours.”

if you were expecting any response it definitely wasn’t that. 

“…what?” you gave a startled laugh, blinking as you tried to make sense of what he had just said. 

he shrugged as if it didn’t mean much, as if that was the least that was expected of him. 

“that’s why our import of sweet potatoes and eggplants has been lower than usual. but it’s alright, i’ve already ordered for the seeds to be planted in our garden. her father is seething at the moment, it’s why i have to go see them.” he cut away at some meat, glancing at you as a smile was forcing its way onto his lips. he kept it down, watching for your reaction. 

you swallowed thickly, a feeling growing in your chest as you glanced up at him, only to find him staring back at you, a little smile on his face. 

“she had the nerve to ask to be a concubine. i’m only hoping that in this meeting we’re able to get some more of their silk imports in, it shouldn’t take too long.” 

you couldn’t find any words to respond with, but could feel a smile growing on your own face. you were the more compassionate one out of the two of you but hearing this felt like a whole different experience. 

“that’s,” you tried to hide your giddy feelings, “new.” 

satoru rolled his eyes, hooking his hands underneath your chair to pull you closer to him if it was even possible. 

“and well deserved,” he commented, kissing your cheeks as you laughed softly, his lips soft against your skin as they found their way into the places he knew you loved most. 

you tried to push him away, feeling embarrassed at the guards that stood by the door, knowing they were able to see all of this happen before them. 

“suguru was telling me about it,” you felt his hands shift, lifting you over the armrest, his strength godly as he shifted you to sit on his lap, “i just thought that something else had come up.”

gojo hummed against your skin, your dinner promptly forgotten behind you as his nose nudged at your jaw, “yeah, like what?” he enjoyed hearing your shuddering breaths, the way your fingers automatically went to tangle themselves in his soft hair. 

“i-i don’t know,” you felt weak from being breathless from so little, and we’re glad your back was to the men behind you, “but definitely not that.” 

“it was the least i could do,” he said, “i wanted her banished but my advisors warned against it. said it would cause too much chaos,” his eyes flicked to yours, inviting, challenging, “as if i wouldn’t go to war for you.” 

you felt the air in your lungs squeeze out, your hands gripping his shoulders, anything to bring you back to reality as his tongue poked at his cheek, debating some things in his head.

“out,” he spoke, loudly now so that the guards could hear, his voice commanding and starkly different from how he talked to you, “get out.” 

while he liked showing you off, but there were things only meant for his eyes and his ears.

you could hear them shuffling to leave, looking over your shoulder as you giggled at their hurried movements, the door shutting behind them as they left you and satoru alone in the dining hall. 

you turned back to him, his eyes twinkling in the faint candlelight, his hands running across your back, up and down your arms as you shifted across his lap, your clog rubbing on his hard-on as he sucked in a deep breath. 

 “you’d go to war for me?” you teased, your sweet breath fanning across his lips as his tongue poked out, his eyes glazing over as he scoffed at your ridiculous question. his hands settled on your waist, your skirts hitching upwards. 

“i’d do anything for you,” he whispered against your lips, hovering above them as his eyes held yours, “if you told me you wanted me to ransack that clan dry i’d do it.” though he was a joking sort of person, you knew his words were nothing but the truth. 

if you wanted, he’d burn down villages for you. he’d make sure that when the stories were written, your name came first. he wanted the masses to know that he was yours and that his every waking moment was spent in your presence. 

satoru was sure the stars were shifting to accommodate for the two of you, and that it would only take years before he’d look up to see you there with him, splattered across the night sky.

“as much as i’d like you to,” you kissed his neck, enjoying the way he writhed beneath you, knowing that only you had the luxury of seeing him like this, “i wouldn’t want any spillage of blood to be traced back to me. i’d like for you to come home alive.” it’s not as if you doubted his talents, nor his strength, you doubted others. 

“i’ll always find my way back to you,” he promised, tilting his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss. 

it was slow, as if he wanted to savor every moment with you. satoru was cheeky, smiling whenever he’d pull slightly away to hear your sweet whines. your fingers tugged at his hair, warning him to stop. 

his tongue pushed its way into your mouth, and it didn’t take long before the kisses turned sloppy, spit staining your chin as you slowly move your body up and down on his. 

“you drive me to shambles,” he said against your lips, a train of spit connecting the two of you together, and it was sinful the way he looked right now. lips rosy and plump, his hair messy and his smile cocky. 

“me?” you ask slyly, coyly moving up and down his dick, enjoying the way he sucked in a breath through his teeth, his fingers digging into your ass as you tilt your head to the side, “really?” 

his hands hiked up your skirt so that it bushed around your thighs, his fingers pressing against your heat as he felt the dampness seeping through your underwear, his own victorious grin plastered on his face. 

“really,” he confirmed, grabbing a hold of your wrist as he guided it to his bulge, watching your eyes gloss over, your pupils widening at the feeling of him, never really getting used to just how big satoru was. 

his finger hicked your underwear to the side, letting it sink into your warm walls, your eyes rolling back, your slick staining his skin as he brought it out, tapping your lips as he motioned for you to open your mouth. 

you did, watching as he pushed his finger in, his eyes darkening at the way you closed your lips around him, sucking him hard as you tasted yourself on him, your hips shifting to ease your aching clit. 

“taste yourself? see why i can’t get enough of you?” he prompts and you slowly nod, not breaking eye contact with him as he feels pride swell in his chest, as well as something else a little bit lower. 

“see how i can’t get enough of you?” you ask, motioning towards his hand, and he chuckles darkly, drawing his finger out as he presses a short kiss to your lips, taunting you.

“be patient,” he murmured, fully enthralled with the way your tongue moved around him, his dick straining against his pants, painful as it wanted to be let free. you could feel him twitch beneath you, growing harder, if it was even possible. 

he couldn’t even be patient himself.

“then hurry up,” you whisper, biting his ear as he groans, pushing all of the silverware and cups out from behind you, lifting you up by your thighs as he made room for you on the table, setting you down as he settled in between your legs. 

he pushed down on your chest and you followed his movements, laying down on the table, your chest heaving up and down, the feeling something you’ve never experienced before. sex with satoru was unlike anything human, and he always left you with a taste of wanting more. 

your top fell loosely against your shoulder, almost undone from all of his ministrations, and some of the wine from his cup had spilled, soaking your white fabric red. it was hard to come out of this dining hall without hiding what had happened inside. 

his hand fisted the top that covered your chest, yanking it off with a swift motion, tearing it off of you in a split second. you didn’t have time to scold him for ruining yet another one of your shirts, taking in the way his breath came out in little puffs at the sight of your naked breasts. 

“‘toru!” you yelled, swatting his hands away as you groaned, looking at what was now rags, not knowing how you were going to be able to leave this dining hall with your dignity intact. 

“what?” he looked as if he truly had no idea why you’d be mad, and then looked at the remains of your top, sheepishly scratching at his jaw as he leaned down to peck at the corner of your lips, and you begrudgingly let him. 

“‘m sorry,” he whispered against your lips, but he didn’t really sound like it, “i’ll cover you in my robes, yeah?” you rolled your eyes, flicking at his forehead. he whined, back caught your hand, kissing just above your wrist as he winked at you. you could never stay mad at him for too long because he knew just what to do to make you forget about it.

“you owe me a new one, alongside the four other ones you’ve ruined so far,” you say, eyeing it with a hefty sigh. satoru nodded insistently, his hands wandering down your torso as he got himself distracted. his hands were so large, and you would never get tired of the way he looked at you.

“how ‘bout i make it up to you, hm?” and you didn’t have any restraint in you as you nodded slowly, knowing that you were the only person who could make him like this, the only person who could have the gojo satoru in such a vulnerable and loving way.

he began bunching up your skirt once again, sinking down to his knees as your back arched off of the table, using your elbow to stabilize yourself as your head tilted backward at the feeling of his fingers pushing past your walls. 

your underwear was thrown to the side, disregarded as his tongue poked at your entrance, his thumb flicking over your sensitive nub, knowing just the way to make you go crazy. he slurped up all you had to offer, the sounds too much for you to handle, cheek heating up. 

he took his time, wanting to make you feel every pleasurable feeling known to man as he ate you out. you would never get tired of the way he could reach that spongy spot inside of you that your fingers never could. 

“you taste like so fucking sweet,” satoru’s eyes found yours, glinting as his nose nudged at your clit. it was too much, the way he ate you like he had never tasted anything better. he hadn’t and he was sure that sin was below you. 

his other hand found your tits, palming them, squeezing at the flesh as he rubbed at your nipples, hardening against him as you whined, fisting the tablecloth beneath you as you panted, it was just so hard to get used to this. 

“f-fuck, ‘toru, please…” you could barely muster up any words, his thumb swiping at your clit in a delicious way, his tongue prodding at your walls. 

“please what?” he teased, enjoying the way he could make you unravel, the way that nobody else could hear the way you’d sing just for him. 

“faster, mhh, shit!” you liked the way he obediently listened to you, his tongue and fingers moving per your request, and you felt your stomach clenching, your release threatening to come at any moment.

it was embarrassing just how fast he could bring you to this sort of state, but he reveled in it. he knew what you liked and disliked, how to tease you to make you cry even louder for him. he was a master in everything he did, and he wasn’t one to fail. 

“who does this to you?” he asked, knowing he was fucking you dumb even without his cock. 

“y-you, you ‘toru,” you couldn’t look at him, everything hot as sweat dotted at your forehead, “only you.” 

a cheshire grin found its way onto his face. 

“come on, know you can do it,” he pushed you further, his fingers joining his tongue, and it was just too much, prodding at the place that made you see stars. he looked just as wrecked as you, with your own essence smeared all over his chin, mixing with his spit, but he couldn’t have had it any other way. 

“‘m ‘gonna…fuck, ‘toru, i’m ‘gonna come…” you breathed out, and it didn’t take long till you did. 

the feeling was unlike any other, your walls clamping around him, your release gushing out, your stomach clenched, and your back arched, spasming around his fingers. he didn’t stop until he was sure you had ridden out your orgasm, watching the beautiful way your tits moved up and down with your every breath, the way the light bounced off your skin. you were a heavenly being and nothing you told him could convince him otherwise. 

he slowly stood up, his hands finding purchase on your hips as he gently pulled you closer to the edge of the table, giving you some time to come back down to earth as he slowly tapped his fingers on the expanse of your naked skin.

“you good?” you groaned, hitting his chest lightly as he chuckled, his eyes softening as he looked more at you. he was so sure that the love he held in his chest was going to seep out that it made him worried, knowing that others could love you the same way, selfishly wanting you just to himself.

“you’re so annoying,” you say, rubbing at your face, eyeing the bulge in his pants, feeling your mouth salivate at the sight. 

“you love it though,” and you couldn’t even argue because you did. you loved all the little things about him, the things he hid away from the public eye and saved just for you. it reminded you that he was yours and you were his and nothing was ever going to change it. 

“i put up with it,” you say, watching him pout, his white hair all messy and his cheeks rosy. 

“you’re so mean,” he whined, but only kissed the tip of your nose as he said it. his swift fingers made use of unbuttoning the buttons of his pants, hooking a finger around them as he tugged it down, his cock springing free as it hit his chest. 

he was long, curving to the right. his dick was pretty, just like the rest of him, and you would never get tired of seeing it flushed red, leaking pre as he shuddered against the cold, biting air. his mushroomed tip was aching to push past your walls, and you obliged him, slowly moving so that your hands found him. 

he sucked in a breath as your fingers wrapped around his length, expertly moving up and down in a teasing manner, your thumb swiping at his head as his pre stained your skin. his chest was moving in a crazed pattern, as if his lungs weren’t working properly, and he watched as your hands moved up and down, up and down. 

“s-stop, i don’t want to,” he scrambled before he embarrassed himself and finished from just your hands, tugging your fingers away from his aching cock as you looked up at him through your lashes, knowing just what made him go crazy for you. 

“hurry up ‘toru, i need you sooo bad,” you whined, your voice laced with something that made him lose all sense of control, and he quickly nodded, his hands gripping your thighs as he tugged you closer to himself. 

it would have been easier if he had you perched on the table with your back to him, but he couldn’t risk not being able to see your face, the way your mouth opened and your eyes squeezed shut, so he lined himself up with your entrance instead, knowing this was the only way he could fuck you. 

his dick prodded at your entrance, his bulbous head pushing past your walls that were still tight, squeezing him as he slowly inched your forehead, the two of you moaning in unison at the snug fit. 

“shit, you’re so tight, how,” his lip caught between his teeth, and his eyes flickered over to yours, “how are you so tight?” his grip on your hips was bruising, but you welcomed the marks, loving the fact that when you woke up the two of you would carry each other on your skin.

“stop talking ‘toru,” your hands hooked around his neck, tugging him in closer as your lips slotted against his, your teeth clashing as your pussy fluttered against him, your noses rubbing against each other, “fuck me…please.” 

and he did, pushing all of himself in, and your head tipped backward at the sting, gripping onto his arms as he let you adjust to his size, his cock twitching in your heat, and his jaw clenched, refraining himself from moving just yet. 

when you gave him the nod to move he slowly inched out, his dick shining in the light, before he slammed himself back in, your cries filling the vast space as he began to fuck you the way he wanted, his lips finding your neck as you thrust your hips against his. 

it was always delirious when the two of you fucked, your bodies meeting at one point that drove each of you to your own euphoria. satoru tried to be slow and gentle, but after a bit, he couldn’t anymore, picking up his pace as his head kept hitting your g spot. 

“love you s’much ‘toru,” your fingers curled in his hair, your other hand scratching lines down his back as the squelching sound resonated around you, “f-fuck-” he cut you off with a chaste kiss, dropping his head to your breasts as he sucked at them, positioning himself in and out of you with all his strength. 

“i know, i know sweetheart,” he murmured against your spit soaked skin, rubbing gently at the marks he left, “i’m yours, all for you,” he promised, his thumb finding your clit as he swiped at it, enjoying the way you mewled for him to go faster. 

your eyes fall all over his naked skin, at the way sweat dots on both of your bodies, and the way satoru can’t contain his moans and whines when he sinks in and out of you. the sounds he makes are for you only, and you want to damn anybody who longs to hear them too. 

“you feel s’good,” you kiss at his chest, his tunic slipping down him as the buttons and knots become undone, your fingers tugging them down so you could have more area to kiss and suckle at, “s’big ‘toru.” 

he loves how your voice gets breathy, the way you can’t keep your hands to yourself and can barely formulate a thought. he fucks you like he hates you, but that’s only because he doesn’t know how else to show you just how much you mean to him. 

“yeah? this dick makes you dumb?” you nod helplessly, feeling like you were going to go insane with the way his veins dragged alongside your walls, at the way your pussy was molding to the shape of him. 

“yes!” you cried out, nails digging into his skin, and he encouraged you to leave more lines, knowing that once he had to take off his shirt for training and the men around his eyes the scratches on his back they’d know who left them. 

“are you ‘gonna come? come with me, know you want to,” his hips are shuttering as if he can barely keep his release at bay, “know you can sweetheart,” and you whine even louder, his thumb relentlessly attacking your clit as your legs wrap tightly around him, keep him from straying too far away from your body. 

“mhh fuck, ‘toru m’gonna, fuck…!” you felt your release come before you could even stop yourself, spasming around his dick as you wailed, creaming around his dick as the tablecloth bunched beneath you, the wine spilling everywhere as your husband came just seconds after you. 

you felt his hot release in you, your walls hugging him in as your eyes rolled back, white dotting your vision as he pumped himself inside of you, keeping his dick in for a little while longer. your orgasm was so powerful that you wondered if you were going to be able to walk after this, feel yourself pulse around nothing as satoru slowly pulled himself out of you, his cum seeping out and sticking to your doughy thighs. 

it was a mess; wine and cum everywhere, but your laughter slowly filled the heated room, laughing at the entire prospect of this. 

“what?” he nudged at your jaw, kissing your cheekbones as he smiled at the sound, “was that not to your liking?” 

you snorted, shaking your head as your legs dropped from his waist, leaning back on your hands as you looked around, taking in the mess as you heaved out a sigh, knowing that there definitely wasn’t any way to hide what you had done now. especially since you were sure that anybody within a twenty-foot radius could have heard you as well. 

“it was fine,” you teased, watching him huff in annoyance because the two of you knew that it was far from fine. 

“just fine?” he asked, scooping a finger into your pussy, watching the way your head fell onto his shoulder, smearing his cum around just for extra measure, chuckling to himself when he felt you lightly bite his skin. 

“you’re painfully full of yourself,” you comment, your skirt falling back down as it hid your fluttering pussy, making it seem as if he hadn’t just fucked you dumb seconds ago, and satoru tugged you closer to his chest, his hands sprawling across the naked expanse of your back. 

“only because i love you so much,” and he wasn’t lying, but you knew that his cockiness stemmed from himself. 

the two of you smiled, your rings shining and you looked out the window to see the moon up, a chill running through the curtains, ruffling them as it hit your skin and you shuddered. 

as if he suddenly remembered your top was ruined, now resembling cleaning rags, he shrugged off the robe that was resting on the back of his chair as he settled it across your chest, buttoning up the buttons for you as you let him work. 

it had some of his military rankings on it, a deep blue that resembled the clan's colors, and you instantly felt warmer in the wool. 

“‘toru?” you twirled some of his baby hairs around your fingers, your voice hoarse but soft. 

he looked up, feeling awestruck by the way you looked right now. he loved the glow you radiated after a round of him pounding into you, the way your skin was shining and you had a content look on your face, resonating deep within him.

“hm?” his thumb ran across your face, tracing your features as he did every night, committing them to memory. 

“come home safe,” you whispered, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you held his unoccupied hand in yours, your fingers cradling his larger ones, “don’t do anything stupid, please.” 

he went to make a joke but stopped himself when he saw your serious stare, his mouth opening and then shutting until he nodded, smiling carefully, holding heavy emotions as he gave you a smaller, more understanding nod.

“okay,” he murmured, but you shook your head, not satisfied with his answer. 

“promise me,” and he hated and loved the fact that he couldn’t deny you anything. 

“i promise,” he whispered against your lips, bringing you closer as his tongue swiped against yours, your lips swollen and plush, just the way he liked it. 

and he held true to his promise, returning only a week later with a promise of no sort of war between the eastern clan. but according to suguru, your husband had shed off his clothes when he had to fight one of their men, everybody around him, including the girl, had seen the scratches and bruises you had left for him, 

just as he intended.

taglist: @chieeeeeee, @yxnjvnnie, @ladytamayolover, @iheartlinds

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

Gojo Satoru x older reader (7 age gap) headcanons

Synopsis - as a.normal adult that lived a stressful life , who thought she'll get a reason to live, pushing all the stress aside.

Warnings ⚠️ - f!reader , older reader. Reader is 28 and he is 21! A university student.

© not canon this is just a work of fiction, fuck off if you are pissed.

♡ Younger gojo - You first meet Satoru at a café near his university, where you often stop by after work. He’s loud, effortlessly charming, and annoyingly persistent when he notices you.

♡ Younger gojo - He overhears your conversation with a friend about work stress and, in typical Gojo fashion, inserts himself into the conversation with a teasing remark.

♡ Younger gojo- He starts showing up at the café more often, making playful comments about how it must be fate that you always run into each other.

♡ Younger gojo - He shamelessly flirts with you, dropping cheesy pick-up lines like, "So, how does it feel to be my ideal type?" or "You're a whole seven years older? Damn, you’re basically my cool, sexy senpai."

♡ Younger gojo - He teases you about your ‘serious adult job,’ acting mock-impressed whenever you talk about work responsibilities.

♡ Younger gojo-Despite his playful nature, you notice he actually listens when you vent about work. He remembers little details,your annoying coworker’s name, your favorite way to destress,and brings them up later in thoughtful ways.

♡ Younger gojo -You hesitate at first because of the age gap. Seven years may not be huge, but you still see him as a reckless, flirtatious university student.

♡ Younger gojo You remind him, "Aren't you too young for me?" only for him to smirk and reply, "Nah, you're just too perfect for me to ignore."

♡ Younger gojo - He works hard to prove he’s not just some immature kid. He’s persistent, but not in an overwhelming way he gives you space while making it clear he’s serious.

♡ Younger gojo - He loves calling you "Ms. [Last Name]" just to see your reaction. You roll your eyes, but he sees the small smirk you try to hide.

♡ Younger gojo-He lives to fluster you, whispering teasing things in public just to see you struggle to keep your composure.

♡ Younger gojo-He insists on paying for dates even though you earn more than him. If you tease him about it, he pouts dramatically: "Let me be a gentleman, okay?"

♡ Younger gojo-He loves stealing your work shirts or sweaters, claiming they ‘smell like you.’ It’s his comfort when he’s drowning in university assignments.

♡ Younger gojo-You’re more level-headed, but he has a way of making life exciting. He drags you out of your routine, making you loosen up and have fun.

♡ Younger gojo-He’s surprisingly good at giving emotional support. If you ever feel overwhelmed by work, he makes you take breaks and does something stupid just to make you laugh.

♡ Younger gojo-But he’s still Gojoz,immature at times. He complains dramatically when you act too much like an ‘adult’ “Babe, stop being so responsible and come play with meee.”

♡ Younger gojo-You find yourself being the one reminding him to study, eat properly, and sleep on time. You joke about babysitting him, but deep down, you don’t really mind.

♡ Younger gojo - He casually talks about the future with you, dropping comments like "When I graduate, we should move somewhere nice."

♡ Younger gojo - You worry about how people might view your relationship, but he never lets it get to him. "Who cares what they think? I have the coolest girlfriend ever, i mean mommy-" you smacked him.

To the ones Asking me if gojo was my favourite NO he is not ☹️ my suguru bby is, why do I create so much fics about him then?

Alright so Cannonically I m similar to gojo YES I m , like seriously. When I first saw gojo , I was like , he is me , I m him. So it's like , i know myself better than anyone else, that's why I make gojo fics more often, some fics are based on real life incidents 🫦

[smystermy]

of all flowers: you

tags: gojo satoru x you; tooth-rotting domestic fluff; gojo's an idiot—but he's your lawfully married idiot; both of you are so ridiculously down for each other; yours truly never thought she’d be writing for this menace again.

warnings: gojo calls you 'wife' once.

word count: 1414.

notes: this oneshot is part of my 'heartbeat star' series, but you can dive in without prior reading!! hope you enjoy it—and if you do, likes, comments, and reblogs mean a lot!! the fic title is from here, the header image is from pinterest, the dividers are by @/adornedwithlight. jujutsu kaisen is not mine. 🥰🥰

The first thing you notice is the cold.

Not the kind that stings—just the kind that lingers, quiet and insidious, creeping into the spaces where warmth should be. The kind that shouldn’t exist in a bed meant to be shared, meant to always hold the weight of another.

The drowsy fog of sleep still clings to you as you shift beneath the blankets, stretching out a lazy hand, fingers seeking the solid, steady presence of your husband.

But instead of Satoru, all you find is the faintest imprint in the mattress, the last traces of his warmth fading beneath your touch.

You stir fully awake then, lips pressing into a soft frown as you bury yourself deeper into the sheets. The space he left behind is cool now, but his scent lingers, clinging to the pillows, woven into the fabric. It’s something sweet, something warm, something wholly him.

It soothes you for a moment, wrapping around you like a fleeting embrace—but it’s not enough. Not when the real thing isn’t here.

Even in sleep, even in the earliest hours of the morning, a faint ache tugs at your heart—missing him in a way that feels almost childish.

And as the weight of the moment hangs in the air—

A noise.

Faint, distant, barely there. The clatter of dishes. The soft sizzle of something on the stove. And then—

The smell of pancakes.

Your lips curve into a slow, sleepy smile.

So that’s where he went.

You stretch, languid and unhurried, relishing the gentle pull of your muscles before finally pushing yourself up. The air is cool against your legs as you swing them over the side of the bed, making you shiver. You tug down the hem of the oversized shirt you’re wearing—his, of course. It’s far too big for you, the sleeves slipping past your fingertips as you pad out of the bedroom, drawn by the warmth of the kitchen, by the presence of the man you love.

And when you step inside—

You lose your breath.

Satoru stands at the stove, bathed in the golden light of dawn, effortlessly beautiful in the quiet glow of morning.

His back is to you, all lean muscle and endless height, broad shoulders shifting as he moves. The only thing he’s wearing is a pair of boxers, slung low on his hips, leaving the entirety of his sculpted back on display—scarred and smooth, a map of old battles traced over sun-kissed skin. His hair is a mess, silver strands unruly from sleep, sticking up in odd directions like he’d run a lazy hand through it without thinking.

You stop in the doorway, heart stumbling over itself.

You’ve seen him like this a thousand times.

And yet, something about this moment—about him, standing there like this, utterly at home—makes your heart clench, makes you want to memorize him all over again.

You don’t even think. You move, drawn to him by something deep and instinctive, something inevitable, until—

You press yourself into his back, arms slipping around his waist, cheek pressing against the warmth of his skin.

Satoru stills for half a second, startled by the sudden contact.

Then, a low, sleepy chuckle rumbles through his chest.

“Mm?” His voice is thick with drowsiness, teasing and warm. “What’s this? My adorable wife, clinging to me first thing in the morning?”

You hum softly, pressing a slow, lingering kiss between his shoulder blades. “You left me.”

Another kiss, featherlight and reverent, tracing the curve of a pale scar near his shoulder.

“Unforgivable,” you murmur.

His breath catches—just barely.

But you feel it.

His free hand drifts down, fingers curling loosely around your wrist, thumb brushing absentminded circles over your skin, holding you there like he never wants you to let go.

“Didn’t know I married someone this clingy,” he muses, flipping a pancake with infuriating ease, despite the way your lips continue their slow, deliberate path across his back.

“You married your match,” you remind him, fingers slipping lower, skimming over the firm ridges of his stomach, nails barely scraping his skin.

This time, he visibly shudders.

"Troublemaker," he accuses, voice lower now, but his grip on your wrist tightens, betraying just how much he loves it. You relish the way his fingers linger—the warmth of his touch, steady and sure, grounding you in a way only he can.

The kitchen falls quiet then, save for the gentle sounds of morning—the soft hiss of the stove, the rhythmic ticking of the clock, the slow, steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

When, suddenly—

He moves.

With effortless ease, he turns in your arms until he’s facing you, hands settling on your waist, spanning the entire curve of it like you belong there.

And God, he is so unfairly beautiful.

Sleep-mussed silver hair, ocean-blue eyes still heavy with drowsiness, lips curled in that insufferably smug, utterly lovestruck grin he always wears when he looks at you like this.

“You’re extra cuddly today,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against yours.

You sigh softly, hands fanning across his chest, feeling the slow, steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

“I just feel…” You hesitate, searching for the right words, before finally meeting his gaze, your voice softer now—almost like a confession.

“…helplessly in love.”

Something flickers in his expression.

His smile falters, just for a fraction of a second—like he wasn’t expecting you to say that, like it reached somewhere deep inside him.

His arms tighten around you, pulling you flush against him. Not in play, not in jest—but in something quieter. Something softer.

“…Yeah,” he murmurs, voice gentler now. “Me too.”

A hush settles over the kitchen.

Slowly, you melt into his embrace—warm and steady and so achingly familiar. His fingers move in slow, absentminded circles against your lower back, each movement soothing, anchoring. Like he’s holding you not just for comfort, but for certainty—as if keeping you close is the only way to convince himself that you’re really here.

Just then—

Pop. Sizzle. Smoke.

Your eyes snap to the stove.

“Satoru.”

He follows your gaze.

“…Oh.” A pause. Then, very unhelpfully, “Oops.”

You groan, reaching past him to switch off the stove before giving his chest a light shove. “I can’t believe you.”

“In my defense,” he says, raising a single finger like he’s about to deliver the most profound argument of his life, “I was preoccupied.”

“With what?”

His grin is immediate, shameless. “With admiring my unbelievably perfect wife, obviously.”

You deadpan. “That line’s not getting you out of this.”

He hums, tilting his head as if deep in thought, gaze flickering over your face like he’s considering his next move. “What if I said it again, but with more emotion?”

There’s a beat, a moment where you think you might answer—but then he moves. Swift, certain, like he’s been meaning to do it all along. His hands find your waist, lifting you with ease and settling you onto the counter like you weigh nothing.

“Satoru—”

He leans in, voice a quiet murmur against your skin, lips brushing the corner of your mouth.

"You know," he muses, like he’s sharing some great secret, "pancakes are overrated."

“Oh?” you say, arching a brow. “That’s convenient, considering you just burned them.”

He pulls away with a gasp—loud, dramatic, and entirely unnecessary. His hand flies to his chest like you’ve wounded him beyond repair. "I can't believe my own wife would call me out like this."

You snort, unimpressed. "Believe it."

His hands tighten at your waist then, fingers curling into the fabric of his own shirt draped over your frame. The movement is small, almost subconscious, but you feel it—the faint pull of his touch, the quiet need lingering beneath it. His expression shifts—just slightly—but enough. The amusement is still there, still dancing at the corners of his lips, but something gentler flickers beneath it.

Something that makes your breath hitch.

He leans in again, nudging his nose against yours, voice dipping lower. "How about I make it up to you?"

You narrow your eyes, pretending to consider. "By actually cooking breakfast properly?"

Satoru hums, his grin pressing against your skin. "Mmm. That, or…"

He trails off, deliberately, letting the words hang between you as his lips ghost over your jaw—featherlight, teasing, just enough to make your skin tingle.

Like he already knows which option he’d rather choose.

Like he already knows which option you’d rather choose, too.

And just like that—

The burnt pancakes are completely forgotten.

general masterlist || gojo satoru masterlist

[strychnynegirl]

Dear god! Lovin him so much!! He can put his parasyte in me any day. My ovaries!!🤭🫣💓

Took you Like a Shot

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

Summary- One VERY drunk encounter between your greatest rival ever - on your last day of college- leads to you being knocked up. Satoru Gojo, a fuckboy, fratboy, rich little jerk, has been a rival of yours since you all met in College, every damn grade you fought for he got with ease. He crashed every Sorority party you threw. The two of you are so infamous in your rivalry, your friend groups were rivals, and for some reason, life is playing some damn joke on you both. Now... you have to tell him the news - but how Satoru takes it surprises you. Can you both raise a baby together!? And do you even really know each other?

Contents/Warnings- gonna be flashbacks to the rivalry/that night, nerdjo but make him a fratboy, enemies to kind of begrudging partners, but then as the pregnancy progresses, they fall in love hehe (gojo is an idiot) - fluffy and smutty, MDNI -will have explicit sex etc- 4 parts (I THINK) in this chap- flashbacks of explicit sex with dirty talk, weed smoking (Satoru and his boys aha) mentions of sex, lots of humor, enemies to loversss- WC- this chap- 8k- art in the banner by Yuana on X

Playlist (so far)- Comments and reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyy <3

Chapter One

It had been an absolutely filthy night, that led to your doctor coming in and informing you three months later-

'You're pregnant'

You came in for a normal checkup, you're on the pill and you have no sex life, aside from one encounter almost three months ago. A filthy, questionable ass encounter with what so happened to be your former 'bully' - rich boy, frat boy, pretty boy, pretentious boy- Satoru Gojo.

For years, the two of you were rivals, not just academic either, since you were both top of your class all through college, but at everything. He'd hold your notebooks high and laugh at you, he'd try to ruin and crash every sorority event he could. Known as the Queen and King of the campus, you ran the rivaling Sorority to his Fraternity. The amount of times you all had gone toe to toe was literally notorious, even your best friends hated each other on your behalf, starting an entire war between you all.

You have no clue how it happened, still, how the two of you had the best sex of your life at that damn party, fueled by drinks but also something you'd never admit- you've always wondered. Hearing those stories about his... skills, seeing his perfect body and the way his pretty lips smirked so cruelly in your direction, even after all these years- how it all led to this moment.

'Hah, sweets, ya finally admit I'm good at something?' Satoru had murmured in your ear, while he'd had you bent right over some bed at some party- both of you were seniors in college on your last and final party, finally you thought you'd be rid of him, of this ass of a man. He was going to live the rich life, working for his family, and you were moving on to a whole different career.

'One t-thing... that's it...' You had cried out when his cock had shoved in so deep, making you cum all over him, his fingers gripping your hips while he'd pumped deeper and deeper, impossibly until he'd been right on your cervix. 'F-fuck!'

'Fuck... you had a pussy like this and we've been fighting!?' Satoru is whispering, resting his snowy locks against your neck, biting it with sharp teeth as you milk his cock. 'So greedy, huh?'

'S-shut up, mnh- just... keep... there, there shit!' Satoru had slammed right against your cervix, feeling you pulsing around him, it had been too good, too tight, too fucking wet, he'd paused then, looking at your arched ass, your skirt shoved over your hips. 'Keep g-going, please...'

'M'gonna cum, tho-she's too tight- shit can I?' 

Your drunk ass had said- sure. You're precise on that pill, every day your alarm goes off in the morning, you take it. How could...

"Pregnant!?" You repeat. Unbelievable. No fucking way. You...

"Yes sweetie I suggest prenatal and an ultrasound, hmm?" The nurse says so sweetly, as you feel sick to your stomach, which your hand goes down to touch.

Pregnant. With rich, notorious fuckboy Satoru Gojo’s baby- now you would have to tell him!?

Shit.

You take the results in a shaky hand, mind swirling as the doctor goes on and on, some crazy distant humming in your head, there’s no way, it can’t be. You’re literally starting your journalism career, thinking you’d maybe gained a few pounds from stress and ramen, the interning was absolutely brutal, you’re never regular on your periods, hence the birth control in the first place.

Running coffees here and there, grabbing this and that for everyone above you, but you were now officially hired, and you were making good money for once, finally able to pay down some of your pesky student loans and get a nice car. You worked hard for it, for everything, despite many thinking leading a sorority meant you came from money, you were a scholarship girl.

That’s a huge reason you and Satoru always clashed, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, easily acing every test that you busted your ass for, things came easy to him, you worked for it. Achieving the highest you could in your graduating class, the little shit that came to school hungover grinned right next to you, like a goddamn plague, and you hoped that finally he was gone for good.

What bonded two people like you now?

Well…

“Do you need to go over your options, hunny?” One of the nurses says, touching your shoulder with a gentle smile, you shake your head then, clearing your throat.

“I just need to… think.”

You’re pacing back and forth in your apartment, feet padding gently along the hardwood floor, cell phone in your hand, staring at the phone number that just got sent to you by Shoko. She was Satoru’s friend and yours, which was rare given the ongoing student warfare zone you all created. You’d texted her a simple- hey do you have Gojo’s number- not going into details.

How do you even tell him?

What do you say!?

You psych yourself up, finally dialing it, when he picks up the phone after the second ring, murmuring - “Hello.” God, even him answering what he assumes is a stranger is snarky.

“Um, hey.” Gojo pauses at the sound of your voice, faltering just for a moment, as his friends bounce a basketball around a court outside, he sits down on the bench, vivid images filling his head. “It’s-”

“Think I don’t know your annoying voice by heart, sweetheart?” You roll your eyes, sighing and plopping down on your couch.

“Yeah, well… I got your number from Shoko.”

“Need a second round? Should have guessed.” He’s gesturing to Suguru and Sukuna, who roll their eyes at him, and he puts his voice down an octave. “I could be convinced.”

“Jesus christ, Gojo.” You almost hang up, feeling your tummy tighten then, almost nauseous, realizing you had to talk to him. “Are you, I don’t know, um… free for lunch or anything?” You despise the words falling from your lips.

“Asking me on a date, huh? So bold, I like it.” Satoru winks now at his friend’s shocked expressions, muting for a moment, telling them it was you.

“No fucking way.” Sukuna says, Suguru snorts in laughter and Satoru just grins, unmuting you again.

“I guess I could be convinced.” He purrs out those words, chuckling. “Hmm, we could go to that nice place on Hollywood ave hmm? Perfect Sushi.”

Your tummy growls, but then you frown, remembering that Sushi is on your damn list not to eat, you curse internally, peering at this list of everything you should never do or consume, and it specifically says raw fish right there. “Do they have cooked Sushi there?”

“Pshh, you’re such a prissy ass, can’t eat raw huh? Didn’t mind it raw from what I remember.” You hate this man.

“You know what never-”

“Shit, I was just kidding.” He panics, thinking you hung up, hearing your irritated sigh then. “Yeah I think they do. Why do you even wanna hang out, ya wanna nag me in person?” He spins his basketball effortlessly on his finger, acting all calm, as if he wasn’t dying to be buried in your perfect pussy again. “Miss being bitchy to me so bad?”

God he wanted to have you on his face, have you sucking him, he wanted for so much more than you all got to do, drunken fingers and your muted cries as he’d had a big hand tight over your mouth. His cock twitches under his basketball shorts just remembering how slick and hot you were, god how you fucking felt gripping him so damn tight.

Satoru had felt you pulsing around him as he reached his arm around you, pressing his fingertips to your clit in circles, as you’re crying out against his palm, practically drooling against him. ‘There you go, cumming so easy f’me huh?’ he taunts, as his own eyes roll back, feeling your pussy drool against his hand.

‘Mnh!’ was all you managed to murmur against his hand, as he feels your gummy walls spasm around his cock, his blue eyes roll back at how perfect you feel, how long he’s dreamed of this.

‘F-finally got you to shut up, hmm?’ He taunts you, normally you’d have something smart to say, but not as he’s overstimulating your little clit, pulling it away as you damn near collapse on the mattress, your thighs shaking, he wants to kiss you so bad, but you’re burying your face, arching your ass.

‘F-fuck you, Gojo- ah!’

The memories are so vivid Satoru can barely calm his thoughts, hearing you say his name in that irritated little voice, the one that drove him insane from day fucking one, the moment he’d met you. Prissy little thing with so much to prove, he thinks you still feel that way, which the biggest secret Satoru had for you had almost spilled on that last drunken night, the night he was inside you was…

He's always wanted you, not that he'd ever admit that however.

Ever.

“Is like three okay?” You're interrupting his thoughts now, as he clears his throat.

“Three rounds?”

You’re scowling at the phone as you question your life’s choices at this very moment. “Three o'clock, my god, for lunch.”

“Sounds good, it gives us time later, to… you know.” You glare at the phone, unbelievable, he’s ridiculous! 

“Time for what?” Satoru chuckles at your high pitched question.

“Don't be shy, sweets, no need to pretend. I remember it all in vivid detail, every little bit.” Your cheeks heat up, hand clutching the phone tightly, trying to calm yourself and focus.

“Just lunch, that’s all I’m asking you for. Sounds good?”

“Want me to pick you up in my-”

“No, I'll meet you. Okay um…. Bye.” You hang up, breath coming quickly, you couldn't just tell him on the damn phone, this needed to be in person.

The thought of his pretty yet annoying ass presence damn near makes your head spin… would he think it's all a joke? Some scam to get with him or get money?

You're fucking terrified, standing and staring in the mirror, rubbing your tummy and frowning as you do. A damn baby… Likely raising it alone, knowing Satoru all these years, partying, insane and so immature. Even on the phone, he’s so damn cocky and self sure, that this must absolutely be what you want, to have him, as if you are over here pining away.

The sex was amazing to put it lightly, and sure if he was a decent guy, and not a fucking ass of a man, you’d have done it again, but the walk of shame that morning had been the most embarrassing day of your life. His little smirk after you woke up, plump lips too damn glossy for his own good, yawning and stretching half naked, cock already hard as he’d tapped his lap.

‘Another round, sweets? Come to daddy.’

You scoff even at the memory, at the audacity of fuckboi Satoru Gojo, you had run out so quickly he hadn’t had a moment to speak, and you swore to yourself never, ever again. Who cared if his cock was so big it hit places you didn’t know existed, and who cared if you’ve never felt that way, fuck you wish he actually wasn’t as good at it as he was.

Perfect at everything, infuriatingly, even fucking.

You get a text from the guy you were currently at least flirting with a bit here and there, the one you suggested going on a date, and then it all starts to hit, you’re pregnant and quite likely going to be some single mom. You couldn’t just go on dates, everything is completely different, maybe forever truly.

“Twenty Two year old single mom.” You grumble, sighing a bit as you text him you’re busy.

Busy.

*****

Satoru waits nervously at the restaurant, he doesn’t really do dates, he usually spends his time in the bedroom with a girl then runs right off. Shit, he’s never even gone without a condom before you, but when you’d said hurry up and put it in, who the fuck was he to tell you no? Not only had it felt superb, he never wanted to leave that perfect pussy.

Of course you would have the most perfect pussy.

You had to be the best at everything, all the time, didn’t you? Always competing for that top spot, but Satoru always just barely got past you, that .01% of that GPA, winning every contest over you always by just a tiny bit. From the moment you glared up at him and crossed your arms, he knew it, he had to do everything he could to win against your cute little ass.

Here’s the thing… Satoru never hated you, but he loves to say he does, you both say you do, or… well, said. Considering you slept with him and didn’t say a single word after, it’s not like he’s hard to find, but each of you actively refused to add each other on socials, though Satoru will admit he stalks your IG, you’re too fucking pretty not to do so, not that he’d ever like a post.

Once he accidentally did, god he wanted to be like those pathetic simps in your comments, but he’s not that, he’s Satoru Gojo. Women come to him, women come easy too, you of course were never one to come near him in that way, no you’d look at him getting smacked in the face on campus with a grin, vowing to your friends that you’d never be one of his conquests.

That night, though, it was like he lost himself, the most stupid, corny shit Satoru could think of, that last night of his freedom before being forced to take over his family’s business. You and everyone probably thought he wanted to, but of course he fucking didn’t, he didn’t want a part of the Gojo corporation in any way, shape or form.

Satoru felt lost, honestly.

Self sure, confident, conceited clearly, talking far too much shit and laughing, picking on you every chance he got, showing up to all your sorority parties in various stages of undress to lure your friends to him. He’ll never forget him, Sukuna and Suguru crashing your ABC party, wearing nothing but cut open beer boxes, and you so happened to have some white claw box made bikini.

God you’d been sexy, but when he stole all the attention? Oh he’s never seen you more mad.

Well no, he has.

Gojo loved to make you mad, because you’re so damn cute when your nose scrunches up, when your pretty eyes narrow, there was nothing like your huffs as you would cross your arms and shift your hips just so. And if there was anything Gojo was absolutely perfect at, amongst well damn near everything, it was making you absolutely furious.

Finally Satoru sees you, dressed in this pretty blue summer dress that juts out just a bit at the waist, making his heart race for just a moment at how pretty you are. It’s not like he forgot… but god. Are your tits bigger he wonders, or is he just obsessed with them, as always, looking too hard. Your cheeks are this beautiful color, your eyes so bright, like… some damn glow about you.

How corny is he lately.

He puts on a smirk as he leans back, waving with his fingers to gesture you over, and you look at him so damn seriously, sitting across from him, hands entwined together in front of you on the table for a moment, as you eye him carefully. “Gojo, um… how are you?’

Who the fuck is this girl in your body!?

You don’t nervously ask shit, you tell Gojo to fuck off, you glare or scowl while he smirks, what’s this… shy ass shit? He frowns a bit now, you exhale and slide off your purse, letting it sit on the seat next to you, he can’t stop staring at your lips, clearly bitten to fucking hell.

He tries to feign that he’s fine, that he hasn’t missed you, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. He missed your daily arguments on campus, he missed you being a total brat. He misses your scent, god that vanilla sugar body spray was haunting his very dream.

He acts as if he hadn’t died to hit you up, but he stopped himself. He couldn’t go that far, not with you, not with what you did to him, how you’ve damn near destroyed any game for himself any longer. That one night with you had sunk into him so deeply, he wishes it was just good pussy, and not whatever this was.

He’s jerked it off to you every fucking night since, to the point is damn dick doesn’t even work, he sure also wouldn’t admit that he can’t even fuck a girl because you were so good. Some evil witch that did something, it must be, he has at this point just given up trying, until whatever curse you gave him falls the fuck off.

But god you look good in front of him.

He should tell you, but instead he swipes a hand through his silky white locks and smirks right at you. “Missed me so badly, sweets?”

You roll your pretty eyes as the menu comes, smiling and thanking the hostess, a smile reserved for anyone in the world but him, even when he’d had you cumming all over him, you weren’t smiling. No, but you were drooling then.

‘Ah, look at you, so fuckin pathetic f’me, huh? Thought you hated me, sorority brat’ Satoru had huffed, as he’d fingered your cunt, curling inside of your slick walls, watching your pretty fucked out face. ‘Just from fingers?’

‘I do h-hate you- mnh!’ Your sparkly manicured nails dug into his broad shoulders as your tight walls convulsed around him, as he hit that spot that no man had ever found in a moment.

Perfect at everything, stupid Satoru.

‘Feel her, god she’s so desperate, huh?’

“Fuck you I- there, shit!’ you’d rolled your hips, grinding right on his hand, pussy drooling as you came from his fingers before he’d even put his cock inside you, and Satoru’s cock was leaking against his boxers, twitching as he pictures how perfect you’d felt around him. ‘Fuck you for being so g-good at that!’

‘Oh, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.’ He’d turned you then, whispering a ‘bend over, just like that, gonna be a big stretch, hmm?’

Satoru struggles to calm his memory, focusing on that sexy mouth of yours moving, realizing words are coming out of them, blinking to focus.

“How are you doing, Gojo?” You ask softly, always Gojo, you never called him Satoru, and he always called you sweets, short stuff, your last name, also never your first.

But he wanted to call you a lot of things, one of them being-

Stop that Satoru.

“I’m doing great, of course, miss me so much?” He teases, winking at you and sipping on the sickeningly sweet Shirley temple he’d had them buy, you just grab a water, hand flitting to your tummy for a moment. “You’re not sick are you?”

“No, not sick just… yeah we needed to talk. Is that okay?”

Satoru leans forward, raising a thin white brow. “You seem weird, everything okay?”

“Well… shit. I guess I’ll just say this. Um…” You tuck your hair behind your ear, looking out the window at the bustling city for a moment, before looking back at him. “Remember that night?”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do all this to have a repeat.” His hand comes to your thigh, and that’s when you curse this pregnancy, because your nipples tighten, your cunt gets hot and wet from that.

Fuck hormones.

You take a breath, glaring as you always do at Satoru, the only time you never had was when he’s had your face with a slutty O for your mouth, your eyes rolled back, nails gripping those sheets. You shove his hand off, hoping he couldn’t feel your heat that quickly, as your body responds stupidly in a damn sushi restaurant.

“It’s not that, it’s important. Can you ever be serious in your life!?” You say quietly, and it’s his turn to glare, taking his hand back, sipping his drink again.

“Well just spit it out. What is all this, then?”

“It’s… I… You…” Shit, if ever you needed a drink it was now, and you damn sure wouldn’t have one for a good six months or more.

“It’s… I…. You…” He mocks, and you stand then, so furious your heart is racing, snatching up your purse.

“Never mind, I should have known you’re-”

“Shit, just sit. Sorry. Okay?” He grips your delicate wrist in his big hand, and even that is wrecking you, against your better judgement and everything you feel. “I’m sorry, it seems… serious. Just sit down and spit it out.”

You sit back down now, shifting as you both make your orders, a thankful distraction. As the waitress leaves, you sigh. “I don’t want anything from you, first off, so don’t think that.”

“What?” He blinks in confusion.

“I don’t need help, I can do it myself.”

“Do what!?”

“But you have to know… it’s the right thing to do, to tell you.” You look up at the ceiling, gathering your thoughts.

“Is this… are you in love with me, because of how good it was? Shit, that’s okay baby, everyone-”

“I’m pregnant.”

“What!?” You just sit there, seriously staring, as he blinks, looking at fuller breasts, your damn glow, thinking of every dumb thing he’s heard. “You’re… by who?” He whispers, and you flush then, shifting in your seat, sipping more of your water, condensation cool on your hot palm, your skin is burning, heart is racing.

“I was on the pill, religiously, I swear, I never missed one. Shit, until I found out I never missed… I… never would have done it like we did if I knew.” You feel sick as he gapes at you, his pretty blue eyes bulging out damn near, his mouth dropped open. “I expect no help, no involvement, we’re young. I just-”

“This a joke, right?” You take another breath, hand gripping the glass, eyeing those around you all, engulfed in conversations.

“It’s not a joke.” He’s laughing now, smacking his thigh, and your jaw tenses as he does.

“It’s you and your damn friends, someone recording!? Hah-”

“It’s not a joke.” You clear your throat now, leaning in your purse and pulling out the papers, with your name, the results, watching his expression shift, brows drawing low, his jaw tense. “It’s only been you, no one else for an entire year.”

“A whole year?” He eyes you again, and you flush under his gaze, as his hands shake, hands you’ve never seen shake, hands that dribble basketballs, that tossed footballs, all with ease.

Hands that…

Fuck, don’t think of it.

“I’m not… I was too busy.” Besting Gojo, competing with Gojo, you had no time for shit with him, your anger at him shone so brightly it was hard to think about men. “As I said, you don’t need to pay for anything, this isn’t that conversation, this is just me letting you know. I’m keeping it.”

Satoru continues to blink at you, staring open mouthed, at your face, then your body, then back to your face, over and over, while the waitress brings out the food, smiling curiously at the two of you. Satoru doesn’t make a move to touch his food, running his hand through his now messy white locks again, as his mind spins.

“I know you’re wealthy, I don’t want you thinking I want some piece of it. I’ll take care of them alone, please don’t worry.” You touch your tummy, the motion making Satoru fucking feral in some way he can’t put together, just continuing to stare at you in utter shock as the sushi sits in front of the two of you. “I can leave, now, we don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” He murmurs finally, voice hoarse.

“Act like we are civil, act like we’re anything but college enemies, fucking rivals, not even friends. God I know you hate me, I know this was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” He whispers.

“Yes, for both of us. You don’t deserve your life uprooted, sure I can’t stand you, but this is my fuck up. I said those words…”

‘Cum in me, f-fucking cum in me, mnh…’ you’d arched your back, as his long fingers wrapped your throat, god he’d never felt anything like you.

‘Want me to fill your pussy s’good, huh lil brat?’ you just whine, muscles clenching on his cock, and he’d groaned in your ear then, shoving deep inside your drooly cunt. ‘Beg for it, then’

Oh, you had.

You hated him for it.

“It’s my fault, so don’t worry. But I wanted to be transparent, but I am… indeed, pregnant.”

“Pregnant, like, with a baby?” Satoru whispers, and You giggle then, for the first time since you found out, covering your mouth just a bit as he just stares.

“Yeah, a baby.”

“Mine…” His words send something through the both of you.

“Yours, but only if you want to be involved. I know it was a hate fuck, we’re young, we have lives-”

“You got a… like that scan shit set up?”

“Ultrasound?” He nods, nervously, hands clenching the table so hard you see the veins popping up through his thin skin. “I do, next week. I mean it is a couple months already, so I will see something, not like… the sex but…”

“Can I go?”

You blink in shock now. “You want to?”

“Yeah. I mean… why wouldn’t I?” He rubs the back of his neck, as the life he thought, the mundane one of following his damn family, of being a pawn in a bigger scheme, everything flashes.

It changes.

He’s scared shitless, but…

“I want to be involved. If you want me to be.” You blink back tears, but you fail, and if it’s one thing, Satoru Gojo has never seen his preppy ass Sorority rival cry, not fucking once.

He falters as those tears run down your cheeks, he leans over, hesitantly, the only physical contact aside from that fateful night was him shoving at you teasingly, or you smacking at him. Shit you all hadn’t hugged, you never even kissed aside from that night, sloppy and messy. But he doesn’t stop, until his thumb brushes your cheek, and you gasp.

“Shit I’m crying. Stupid hormones.” You huff now, swiping at your own eyes with shaky little hands. “You really wanna go?”

“Yeah if it’s cool?”

Satoru’s shocking you, the world tilts on its axis, like you’re having some insane dream. This can’t be real, can it? It’s fuckboi, frat boy Gojo, the man who goes through girls like they’re candy, the man who takes nothing serious, who has the world handed to him.

“Gojo, if you want to go of course you can, to any and all appointments, but you’re under no obligation, and please know I can cover the costs.”

“I know you’d never take my money, shit even if I offered, stubborn ass little brat that you are.” You manage a breathless giggle, the second one, realizing he is still brushing that thumb against your cheek, before he clears his throat. “So, tell me what day, I'll be there.”

“Yeah, are you sure? It will make it so… real, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Now eat your cooked sushi, aren’t you like eating for two or some shit?”

You take your chopsticks with a shaky hand, exhaling. “I was reading, I think they are like the size of a pea maybe. But, this is yummy looking.”

“Gonna be a huge ass baby, shit.”

“Oh god!” You eye his lanky body, and he’s grinning, Satoru is grinning!? Shocking you further.

Maybe you don’t know him like you think?

“Tits are gonna get so big.”

Never mind.

*****

“An ultrasound!? A baby? Fuck…” Suguru Geto inhales the blunt, sucking the smoke into his lungs as Satoru nervously paces Sukuna and Suguru’s apartment, Satoru chose to live in his own place, closer to work. But he frequently gets shitfaced and crashes out at their place.

“Sounds fucking insane, shit.” Sukuna chuckles, as he’s hitting a bong, inhaling and exhaling, broad shoulders shaking as he coughs. “You look like you could use a hit or something.

“Before the ultrasound? Shit I need more than weed. I’m freaking the fuck out right now.”

“Imagine you as a dad though hah!” Sukuna smacks his thigh, as Satoru glares now, stopping his pacing while the music plays, the same music Satoru remembers doing keg stands and playing beer pong in togas to, only to now have the possibility of being responsible for a whole human being.

“Can’t even keep a plant alive, shit.” Suguru says in between laughs, and Satoru raises a white brow at the two of them on the couch.

“You two are so supportive.”

“Well shit, she said you don’t have to be involved, you can always just like… send money and shit? Do you really want a whole kid?” Sukuna asks, and Satoru takes a breath, pacing once more as he runs hands through disheveled hair over and over.

“Do I want a whole kid, no, I never even… I mean I figured eventually, as the Gojo heir, blah blah blah.” Satoru slumps in a nearby recliner, as Suguru hands him the blunt, frowning a bit now.

“You do need a hit. You’re young, it’s not time to give your family fuckin’ heirs yet, is it?”

“They’d probably be delighted.” Satoru rolls those cerulean eyes, inhaling the smoke into his lungs and leaning back, staring up at the ceiling, as the black fans above them swirl, moving the puffy clouds of smoke all around. His nostrils fill with the scent of the Sativa, wishing he could make sense of his thoughts. “Not delighted that it’s out of wedlock and unplanned.”

“Imagine her marrying you.” Sukuna and Suguru laugh loudly again, as Satoru hits the blunt again, not passing it.

“The fucks that mean?”

“She hates you. God I think more than anyone.” Suguru says, and Satoru smirks just a bit.

“She sure didn’t hate this dick.”

“Oh!” He’s slapping hands with his friends as Sukuna and Suguru start to make the most obscene gestures, while you call, and he shushes them quickly, trying to compose himself.

“Hello?”

“Gojo, hey. Um, ultrasound is in an hour, I’m heading out soon if you want to meet up?”

“Why don’t I have my driver pick you up?” He asks, and Suguru and Sukuna continue the gestures, making Satoru snort in laughter, the weed starting to enter his bloodstream.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just thought it would be more convenient in this traffic.” He shoots a wink at his friends.

“I mean… sure?” Satoru mouths yes, pumping his fist, clearing his throat now.

“It’ll be easier this way, alright send me your addy I’ll head out.”

“All right.” You just hang up, such a rude little thing. Satoru has changed your name to Sorority Brat in his phone for a good reason.

“What are you gonna do though, man?” Suguru murmurs thoughtfully, his dark violet eyes narrowed, clearly blitzed. “Gonna like… be with her?”

“Could cum in her whenever now.” Sukuna bursts out in laughter as Satoru glares at the two of them.

“Grow up…” They blink at him, then Satoru grins wide. “Nah, that would be a perk, because her pussy my god.”

They both scooch up, elbows on their thighs, avidly staring at Satoru now. “Details, man, it’s like the one girl you never told us about?” Sukuna asks.

“Because you’re in love.”

“Pshh, in love!?”

“Haven’t seen you with anyone since.” Suguru earns Satoru’s middle finger, as he puts out the blunt, stretching and earning their pouts.

“Bet she’s so good, though, all angry and shit, bet she’s a freak.” Satoru doesn’t even know if you’re a freak necessarily, but as Suguru agrees, he glares at them both, crossing his arms.

“This has been the worst pep talk in fucking history.”

“Shit, what’s your decision?” Suguru asks, and Satoru’s mind races, peeking at his watch now.

“I think I’ll make it when I like… see it?”

“Alright big Daddy, then if you decide to be involved we’ll be like… their uncles and shit.” Suguru says, and Satoru grimaces.

“God no, you’ll ruin my kid.”

“Fuck off now.” Sukuna starts hitting his blunt again, Satoru walks out away from them and spritzes cologne all along himself, he knows your prissy self never smoked weed, no you were a little goodie goodie. He thinks the only time he saw you drink was a little at parties, but never like that last night.

He remembers just looking at you asleep when he’d woken up, and the tenderness he felt when he had brushed your hair off your pretty face, and you’d stirred a bit. For a moment he felt his heart hammer in his chest, stone cold sober, seeing the bite marks he’d left on your delicate skin, feeling affection like he couldn’t describe, Satoru never felt that way.

He didn’t cuddle, he didn’t linger.

He ran out before they could wake up, he ran out like you did to him, perhaps he was a little nicer about it, though, you’d given no fucks when you darted out the damn door in a hurry. He had acted cocky though, full on hard just by the damn thought of your slick sticking to his cock, but instead of perhaps kissing you, he’d patted his lap and been a little shit.

He hated the recognition on your face, like he’d been a mistake, so he decided to shove you out of his brain, though he clearly failed.

Jogging down the stairs, he has his driver sent in your direction, and you get the text he’s there, stepping out in front of your little house, cute Satoru thinks, it’s small but it’s immaculate from the exterior. You have pink flowers and succulents all over the front of it when he steps out, eyeing your pretty dress, nerves starting to eat at him, but he puts on an easy smile.

“Ready to go see this little parasyte?’

“A what!?”

“Technically, it sort of is. Right, you’re like its host.” Your mouth is wide open, as you touch your tummy, and he curses. “Shit…”

“A parasyte, you’re calling our… I mean I guess my… the baby a-”

“I’m sure it’s a cute parasyte? It has a pretty host.” Satoru tries to put on the charm, the smolder, as you stare at him in shock.

Was it shocking, this was Gojo.

“Dear God.”

How’d you end up pregnant with this idiot’s baby?!

You slide into the car as you shake your head, and he covers his face, grimacing as he realizes he just told his… god what even were you, a baby mama!? That his baby was a… parasyte. Well, it is, and Satoru would typically just argue with you and let you know he’s correct and you’re wrong, but he keeps quiet, feeling you seething.

“Fire signs.” He mumbles, you look at him again.

“What?”

“You’re a fire sign, it’s why you’re so feisty. I am too, you know.” You relax just a bit, curiously.

“You believe in astrology?” You ask in shock, for as long as you’ve known Satoru Gojo, the two of you don’t really know each other.

“Baby I’m the most Saggitarius man there is.” You giggle again, fuck that’s three giggles Satgoru has counted, and how it lights up your already glowing makes him ache for you, suddenly realizing one of his long legs is brushing against you. Your warmth alone makes him throb, the vanilla sugar filling the space in the car.

“You certainly are the epitome of a Saggitarius. Don’t call me feisty, yuck.” You shove at him playfully almost, pausing a bit when you realize his body feels far too good against yours.

You may or may not have masturbated last night, and he may or may not have popped in your head, over and over. But, don’t worry, because Satoru has spent months jerking his thick length to the thought of you, not that either of you would admit that it may or may not have happened.

“This baby would be a fire sign.” You murmur then, letting your hand fall, and nervously fidgeting, Gojo’s long limbs take over so much of the car, as big as it is, Gojo’s always taken over everything, even apparently your senses.

“Would it?” He asks quietly, for once just a little serious it seems.

“Yeah, an Aries if it comes when it should.”

“So it’ll be a brat like you.”

“Psh, like you.” You roll your eyes, and the two of you fall into a bit of a silence, so much unspoken between you. “Do you know if…”

“That’s why I want to see. Make it real?”

You actually nod in understanding, surprising him then. “I get it.”

The ultrasound tech is rolling the wand over cold gel soon, as you’re embarrassingly propped up with your feet in stirrups, and Satoru stands to the side, glaring at the man who’s inserting this wand in you. He gets angry that he’s getting such a view, he doesn’t even think he saw you that much.

What he remembers…

Your pussy is very pretty.

You wince a bit as the doctor smiles up at you. “Tight muscles, huh?”

Satoru snorts in laughter, and you glare. “What!?”

“You are so tight.”

“Gojo!” You glare, and even the doctor laughs, also earning your scowl, which makes them both sober up.

“Sorry, Miss. Alright… relax, would you?” How do you relax as a doctor is shoving a wand in your coochie and your enemy, who got you pregnant somehow, is turning red holding in his lewd thoughts!? “Look at the screen.”

You and Satoru both look over now, your breath catches then, as does his, when the doctor begins to tap keys on the keyboard, and you hear it for the first time, this little… heartbeat. It’s a heartbeat.

“There it is, congratulations you two. About… ten weeks?” You’re enamored as you stare at the screen, and he moves the wand inside you. “Look there, that’s the little baby.”

Baby.

A baby.

It’s all real.

Satoru’s completely silent as tears fill your eyes, a myriad of emotions, some that you’re so connected already to a little peanut inside you, some that you don’t know how you’ll do this, some of your life. How will it alter, how will it go, what will people think… and what does the man next to you think? What will he do!?

But overwhelmingly as you feel yourself begin to cry, and the screen turns off, you feel warmth spread, touching your tummy in wonder, there’s a damn baby in your body. Your baby. Something you never considered or thought of, you figured much, much later in life, not now.

And you’d likely be…

Alone in this.

“I’ll go get a picture printed for you two.” The doctor smiles kindly, as you’re left alone, with a for once silent Satoru Gojo.

You hesitate to look at him, a stunned expression on his face as you sit up, closing your legs and biting your lower lip, he finally looks at you and exhales, seeing your tear streaked cheeks. A girl he never knew to cry or giggle has done both, and a man you never thought to be serious or quiet… was.

“Satoru um…”

“Satoru?” He asks quietly, and you flush.

“Sorry…”

“No, I don’t mind, just… crazy. This is crazy. There’s a whole life inside you!? And we made it?” You sigh, nodding then, and he shocks you as he leans down, as you’re sitting in the bed, coming so close to you, eyes swirling storms of emotions.

“You can back out now, it’s okay. I won’t put this on you, keeping it is an insane idea but… it feels right to me?” He tilts your chin up, leaning closer, to where you can taste the sweetness of his breath, as your heart pounds right in your chest. “But if you’re backing out, do it now, it will hurt… fuck it will hurt more if you get too involved, okay? Do it now.”

“I’m not backing out of shit.” You gasp, and he exhales, wiping your tears away. “We both did this. I’ll not live in some world knowing my baby is raised with no help of mine in any way, fuck that.”

“But you-”

“I get it, we… aren’t… together. But in this I will be.”

“Satoru, I think I may have a cardiac arrest  before I get this baby out.” You sniffle and he smirks a bit.

“So unbelievable that I’d want to?”

“Yes. The Gojo I know…”

“You may not know me as well as you think. And maybe I don’t know you that much… aside from I agree about that tight-”

“I swear!” You shove at him, as he snorts in laughter, still a little shit, as they bring in two pictures, and Satoru takes one thoughtfully.

“That’s it, huh?” He tilts his head curiously. “Looks like me.”

“It looks like nothing yet, what?” You’re taking tissue and cleaning up a bit, as they give you privacy to pull back on your panties, but Satoru gives you no privacy, just looking. “You could turn?”

“Why, that’s one benefit you know.”

“What?”

“Could fuck any time, cum inside whenever.”

“Oh you wish.” You shove at his chest, and he’s grinning and wiggling his brows, grabbing your waist, pulling you against him.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”

“Shut it.” Yes.

“Sex is good for pregnancy.”

“You’re so full of shit! I can’t with you. Rizzing me up at a gyno?”

“Perfect place, see that doctor, he wants a piece.”

“You’re so dumb, I swear.” You look at the picture then, thumb brushing against the baby’s… maybe it’s a face?

“Are we gonna live together?”

“I mean… what?” You eye him in shock.

“When the baby’s here.”

“No, we don’t have to do all that, we live close. Can you imagine us living together, we’d kill each other.” He envisions it, the fights surely but… the sex, and seeing you in the morning?

“Or fuck. Alot.”

“That’s how this happened.” You mumble, and soon you’re back home, and trying to ignore your body’s insane responses while he stands on your porch, looking far too fucking sexy. “Thank you for being there.”

“You thanking me? the world is ending.”

“Hush. I appreciate this, you standing by me. You don’t have to.”

“I… want to. Um, what will we say?”

You bite your lip more, until he gently takes it out from under your top row of teeth, brushing against the indentations. “We could say we’re together, if you don’t mind, dating I guess? My parents would trip if they knew it’s like…”

“Same. My parents would be happy for a Gojo heir though.” You hear it, the surprising resentment in his voice.

There’s a lot you don’t know.

“Well, I can act like I like you for them if you want.” You tease, and he leans against your doorway, so fucking tall, just looming over you, and you have to clench your hands not to give in to the temptation of touching him.

“Act like you like me- you?”

“I could! If you could act like you like me, in front of my family.”

“How will we explain the whole not living together thing?”

“It’s new, it’s 2025 Gojo, not 1810. We’ll be okay. You're so old school huh, gonna marry me?”

“You’d leave me at the altar.” You both laugh again, as he straightens up now. “Alright, so when should we tell them?”

“When you want to. So work on those acting skills. I’ll set up brunch with mine, you set up dinner with yours?”

“Sounds good. Alright don’t miss Daddy too much.” You snort and roll your eyes, turning away now.

“Daddy? Whatever.”

Satoru presses you against the door, wrapping an arm around your waist, pressing a hand gently on your tummy, splaying the expanse of it with long fingers, as your breath comes quicker and quicker. “Could swear you called me daddy when I beat up that pretty pussy hmm?”

You falter, whining softly, hating your body’s reaction, scowling right up at him, your hand on your doorknob, while this tall ass of a man makes your body light up. “Never called you daddy, no way.” Your voice is a pathetic whisper, why does he do this to you, you want to arch into his damn touch, press against his length, to the point you make yourself stiffen.

“Oh? Must have been the liquor.” He caresses your face, leaning so close you wildly think he’ll kiss you, and you know damn well you can’t handle that, not with your pussy soaking your damn panties just from this.

You hate Satoru Gojo, and he hates you.

This is… because you both are having a baby.

Right?

“It must have been.”

“Ah, I see. Good night, then sweetheart.” He leans his lips up, kissing the top of your head, a gesture so oddly sweet it doesn’t even fit him. “Text me the details, Sorority brat.”

“Sure will, Frat boy.” He sticks his tongue out as you do, walking in and leaning against the door, overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne, the feel of his hands, the memories that surfaced. You slide down it slowly, burying your face in your hands, as your body trembles with this insane need.

Shit. A baby with your enemy?

A baby with Frat Boy Gojo?

Faking that you like him, would it really be that fake?

Satoru’s leaning against it too, for just a moment, trying to compose himself… finally he’s in the back of the car again, as his driver looks  in the rearview mirror curiously, tired eyes focusing as Satoru looks at the picture again. The little peanut that’s apparently a…

A baby.

With his enemy.

An enemy he really wants to be inside again.

“Everything alright, Mr. Gojo?” Kiyotaka asks, Satoru runs a hand through his hair now, leaning back in his seat as he peers out the dark tinted windows.

“I’m having… a baby with a girl who hates me.”

“Why does she hate you?” Kiyotaka asks, driving off, as Satoru chuckles just a bit, remembering bits and pieces of college, out of order, out of sync.

“Because honestly, I was kind of a complete dick to her?”

“That’s… oddly self observant.”

“You saying I’m a dick to you?”

“No Mr. Gojo!”

“I’m kidding, relax.” Kiyotaka’s tense shoulders relax when Satoru leans forward, hand on his shoulder through the little divider that’s opened. “Do you know shit about kids at all?”

“I have nephews, they’re pretty good kids. But babies, not really.”

“I could ask my parents but they basically had nannies raise me.”

“Many nannies, I heard.”

“Well, I was a menace to be honest. Where do I learn about these… things?”

“Babies?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I think there are books?”

“Hmm.” Satoru pulls out his phone then.

Fratboy Gojo🙄(yes that’s his name in your phone now, no you’re not sorry): Should I order us baby books?

Sorority Brat💦😻(of course that’s your name in his phone): Yes, if you want to? That would be good. Thank you… for today.

Fratboy Gojo🙄: Two thank yous!? That baby is making you a mush.

Sorority Brat💦😻: Whatever!

Satoru snorts then, but when you’re in your bed later that night, nibbling on a bag of hot cheetos that have been screaming at you all day, how is that your first craving!? He writes to you again, and you pick your phone up with your clean hand, sans hot cheeto dust, rolling your eyes.

Fratboy Gojo🙄: Need some nudes for your spank bank?

You’re gonna kill him.

Sorority Brat 💦😻: Good night, Gojo.

Satoru frowns, because his dick is already in his hand, but for a moment you think about it, and would it be so bad to-

No, no no.

You aggressively eat those hot cheetos, wondering just what you were in for with that damn boy in your life now, shit forever.

“Fuck.” You’ll never drink again.

I say four parts but I feel like this is gonna be long aha, bc god Gojo is a lil shithead hehe (as I like him) this just a teensy bit similar to the Knocked Up movie premise so expect a LOT of humor here! <3

Taglist one- @jannythewriter-pt2 @gojosoups @lycoris-radiata-4-sale @cutiepi-iee @poisonousspiderlily @closerbutnevertogether @myahfig4 @shokosbunny @coq1myun @rinny27 @abibliolife @coq1myun @megumisthirdog @p4lli @turtlebangtan @webshooterrr9 @aldebrana @msqudo18 @s0ulsnatchaaa @ovela @midnaamethyste @nearlyfuckingwitches @shibataimu @msniks @missthatgirl @fantasy1nightmare0 @maddyhehehehhe @yourst3pm0mmy @haithamsbb @rentheannihilator @ilovebeansyay @lemonswirlz @dilfkentolover @evelynxxo @bkgnotsuma @suki91 @burntasian @nakiich @hyunjinsruinedpainting @miniv1x3n @minascasket @ihrtmack @contaminatedcupcake @girlwithn0j0b @tokyi999 @vamqyx @queenofthekill @verriees @vullzo @jkslaugh97

[tetragonia]

A Functional Family

Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader

summary: Gojo took you and 9 year-old Megumi to a restaurant down the road. It was the closest you all had to a functional family.

notes: fluff/angst? Megumi is a smol bean, younger!Gojo, and all that

words: 600+

It was a rare evening off, and the three of you found yourselves at a small, cozy restaurant tucked in the corner of a quiet street in Tokyo.

The neon lights outside flickered as you sat down at a corner booth, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

Gojo, ever the curious one, was leaning over the menu like it was a life-or-death decision. He didn't seem to notice how Megumi was absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the table, eyes focused more on you than the menu itself. You already decided what to eat just from a glance. You almost finished the novel you brought, knowing that this would be another long day with Gojo.

"Just pick something already," you said lightly, not even looking up from your book.

"Give me a second, (Y/N)! This is crucial," Gojo replied, flashing his usual mischievous grin. "I need the perfect dish to accompany our evening. Can't just settle for anything."

You rolled your eyes, knowing full well he’d pick something without a second thought once he made his decision. Megumi, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally broke his silence.

"Do you two always get along like this?" Megumi asked, his voice quiet but amused.

You looked at him, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of your lips. You were just introduced to Megumi a couple months ago, but you already knew that this kid was way too mature for his age. Too perceptive as well sometimes.

"What do you mean, Megumi-chan? Can’t you tell? We’re the perfect team."

Gojo raised an eyebrow at you, "I dunno, (Y/N). You seem a little too relaxed around me for someone who constantly gets annoyed by my antics."

You chuckled softly.

"The more I get used to you, the less I care about your nonsense. But don’t get comfortable—I know when to reel you in," you winked at Megumi, who now had a knowing smile on his face.

"I don’t think I've ever seen this side of you, (Y/N)," Megumi said, voice just a little quieter, his gaze soft. "You were always serious and hardworking."

You paused, realizing how much you had come to rely on their company, the warmth you hadn’t realized you craved. You reached out to ruffle Megumi’s hair, her touch light but affectionate.

"That's 'Onee-san' to you, Megumi-chan," she teased.

Gojo snorted from across the table, "Hey, that’s my line. I'm the one who's been his big brother, not you!"

You raised an eyebrow.

"Sure, Toru, but I'm the one he respects the most," youw voice was playful, but there was something softer in her eyes when she looked at Megumi.

Megumi didn’t argue, though the blush on his face betrayed the warmth he felt in that moment. He might even want to ask Gojo if Tsumiki could join them too one day...

Suddenly, the elderly woman serving them came by and paused to smile at the sight of you three.

"Aah, what a happy family you are," she said with a grin, her eyes twinkling as she looked at the three of you, pausing on Megumi. “He looks like you, Ma’am.”

Gojo choked on his drink, you coughed, and Megumi blinked, clearly caught off guard by the comment.

You, trying to regain her composure, cleared your throat, "Oh, I—"

Gojo, ever the one to make a scene, put a hand over his heart dramatically, "I know, right? I'm just so proud of my family."

You shot him a glare while the nice old lady smiled and went back to the kitchen.

"Satoru, you're the last person I want to hear that from. And do I look that old for people to assume that I’m Megumi-chan’s mother? Oh, no.”

But despite the teasing, there was a warmth in your voice as you spoke, an unspoken acknowledgment of the bond they had. Even Megumi, his face still flushed, couldn’t help but smile softly.

It was moments like this—small, unexpected, and full of unspoken connection—that made the chaos of their lives worth it. A family, even if it was one of their own making.

[exquisink]

When The Daylight's Gone, Ch2 - Yandere!Gojo Satoru x Fem!Sorcerer Reader

warnings. nothing in particular in this chapter, except for a brief mention of masturbation. but heed the tags on AO3. This chapter has been already posted there but I forgot to cross-post. Whoops.

wc. almost 11K this chapter, lmao.

Adjusting to life at Jujutsu Tech may not have been the smoothest ride for you, but everyone has been kind, considerate, and helpful with you; everyone has been ready to help and practically at your beck and call. Especially Gojo-sama. You’re not oblivious to how much he seems to be interested in helping you feel part of the organization—or whatever you’d call this (it’s definitely not truly a school)—and you let him know that his efforts don’t go unnoticed, which seems to change something in him every time you do. It’s almost as if he doesn’t get enough gratitude for all of the effort he puts into making a change around here. While his colleagues don’t seem all that impressed with him for a myriad of reasons removed from his role, you find that you think of him as more and more compelling of a person. 

You notice it in his little mannerisms around his students, in particular. He and Kento Nanami share a common goal: they want to protect those flames within the students, they want to protect their youth and allow them room to just be kids. You have a feeling that in the world of jujutsu, you are forced to grow up far too quickly as you are thrust into some of the most gruesome situations that most people honestly cannot fathom experiencing themselves. It’s why you have removed yourself from hunting curses, much like Ijichi-sama. It’s not something you can stomach. Having the curse of seeing spirits is something you already wish you didn’t have, but that doesn’t mean you can’t find a way to help others. That’s the whole reason you’ve taken this job in the first place. 

But Gojo-sama…it absolutely doesn’t take a genius to see that the way he acts around others is a mask. It’s painfully obvious the more you hang around him, the more you observe from the sidelines, and you wonder if somewhere in all of that haughty, obnoxious, condescending as fuck facade of his that he wishes someone else had done the same for him. Maybe back in his days as a student here, he hasn’t had someone to shield him from the horrors of the world and he’s witnessed them far too early in his life.

“So! I think the students are going to enjoy a quick trip to Shinjuku!” Gojo suggests, drawing your attention back to the present as he leans so far back into his office chair that it begins to creak against the wooden floor. His hands clasp together as he continues to speak. “And while Nanami is off babysitting them, that means I have a lot more free time to spend with y—I mean you guys!” 

Shoko shakes her head. “I can’t guarantee I’ll have my schedule freed up for your sake, Satoru.”

“Not even if drinks are on me?” Gojo-sama offers with a little smirk playing on his lips. Now you’re the one shaking your head, a hint of a twinkle in your eyes. They may be authority figures in their own rights, but they all have their own vices, you suppose. They probably don’t expect to be the greatest role models to the students, and perhaps these are behaviors or habits of theirs they keep shielded from the impressionable youth as much as possible.

“Yes, not even after that,” Shoko deadpans, her expression serious. That’s a sign to take to heart, and Gojo backs off. Smart move. “I need to cut back.”

“Such a shame,” Gojo pouts, before grinning wide at you as Shoko takes her leave. With that fucking devastatingly beautiful smile of his that seems to just hide so much deep-seated loneliness that you can’t believe people are outright refusing his offers. Oh, curse you and your tendency to give people the benefit of the doubt (even if they have continually shown you reasons not to, but right now Gojo doesn’t appear to fit that description). “Guess that just leaves you and me.”

“So it does,” you reply with a lazy smile. The last thing anyone wants to feel like is an obligation, and you don’t want to make anyone feel like that; you’ve known what that’s like with past friendships yourself. Honestly, you still aren’t sure why you’re making a point in accompanying him. But you also feel like it’s just basic decency as a person. As a participant in the human experience overall, if you must go so far as to say so. 

No one wants to be lonely, not even a guy as boisterous and annoying as Satoru Gojo. (Even if you don’t personally find him as such like the others do.) With a life like his, that seems to keep him on some higher plane of existence as everyone else around him, that must keep him feeling isolated from everyone else. That doesn’t feel good no matter how much someone likes being powerful.

There is a thought that keeps popping up in your mind with each exchange you share with Satoru Gojo.

Is his status all that is cracked up to be for him?

Is he lonelier than he would ever admit to anyone in his life? Even to you–or anyone else in his life he ever considered close to his heart? 

Doesn’t he wish he could drop the act and show people who he really is, or is he already so accustomed to the icy cold backhanded slap of rejection that he may as well play into the role jujutsu society imposed on him? 

There’s so much more you want to know about Satoru Gojo, but you don’t know if you’re jumping into things too quickly. It’s already been a few months, but you still feel out of the loop in a lot of aspects. The more you get acquainted with everything and everyone around you, you find the less you truly understand or truly know much of anything. When Ijichi takes you under his wing for training, you’re not sure how to utilize your own cursed energy–what little you believe you have of it. But Ijichi reminds you–that you are more powerful than you think you are–after all Gojo insists that you might be better off labeled as Grade 2 or Grade 1 with the potential your cursed technique has. 

Should you take his words to heart, though? Better not to let it get to your ego (however little you have).

“Hey,” Gojo waves his hand in front of your face. “You kind of zoned out for a little bit there–everything good?”

“Oh!” You blink owlishly; you have been lost in your mind a lot lately huh? “Yeah! I”m okay. So what are we doing now?”

“I wanted to ask if you’ve seen any progress with your cursed technique,” Gojo replies like he’s been reading your mind, but you doubt that’s how the Six Eyes technique of his works. Maybe it’s just a hunch or a feeling he’s got and he just happens to be right about what you’ve been drifting off into thought about in that small pocket of time. 

“Er…don’t you ever check in with Ijichi-san?” you inquire in a wobbly tone. You honestly have not been keeping as much track of your progress as you should have been… you didn’t expect to be quizzed on it like this so soon but then again…maybe you should have.

“Of course I do!” Gojo scoffs, “I just can’t hear your perspective? I want to know what you think and you forget I’m here to help you out too if you’re not sure what you’re doing.”

You shake your head. “I really have absolutely no idea what I’m doing with any of this! All I can do right now is create veils, and that’s as far as it goes right now.”

“Hey! That’s still progress,” Gojo insists with a thumbs up. “I mean, did you have any exposure to anything related to jujutsu before all of this?” 

Another shake of your head. Nope. You’re pretty much fresh meat in regards to any of this, and from what you understand, sorcerers themselves are extremely rare breeds of humanity. You are stunned to see how small the classes in both Tokyo and Kyoto are. 

“See?” Gojo beams at you so wide the corners of his eyes crinkle. “It may be slow progress, but it’s still progress.”

You laugh at that bit. “You actually sound like a real teacher, Gojo-sama.”

“Come on, you know I told you that you don’t have to call me that,” he counters, “We may be working together, but we’re friends too, remember?”

You bite into your cheek as you chew on a proper response. 

“Are you not my superior?” you point out not in an accusatory way, but isn’t it not too intimate to do something like that? After all, it’s already feeling too intimate for you to be calling Ijichi ‘Ijichi’ or ‘Ijichi-san,’ but he’s also insisting on disregarding formalities. Maybe you are too much of a stickler for the traditions, but it’s mostly out of respect for everyone here. After all they have gone through experiences and trials and tribulations you have yet to experience yourself. You have so much to learn from all of them.

“I mean, yeah! But that doesn’t mean you have to get all formal. You’re not with Shoko!” he reflects for a moment, then adds: “Or Ijichi or Nanami!” 

“Okay, okay! Fine, I’ll work on it, Gojo.”

“Oh, come on. I”m working so hard to make you comfortable around here.”

“I’m just trying to respect your authority, Gojo,” you counter with a smile. Gojo just stares at you for a few moments before surrendering.

“Fine, fine. I’m just saying. It’s not necessary, you know? You’re not a student or anything either. At least, you’re not mine .”

“But I am still learning a thing or two from you and Ijichi,” you remark, “And Principal Yaga especially.”

“Still, since you’re so new to all of this, don’t expect anything to happen overnight, you know? Not everyone can be me, I guess,” he scoffs again, rubbing his nose and you find yourself rolling your eyes in jest. Yeah, there it is. That (honestly warranted) self-confidence. 

Most everyone around him finds it obnoxious, but you can’t help but find it refreshing. A lot of people are afraid of keeping that flame burning inside them, but he isn’t. People always want to play small to make others comfortable but he’s not interested in that, not necessarily in the way someone expects. 

Satoru Gojo is an instructor, first and foremost, and the goal of an instructor is to mold his students to become stronger, faster, and better versions of themselves–in fact he has stated on several occasions to you that he wants them all to surpass him. Because one day he’s not going to be here just like anyone else, and since he’s also not shy about droning on and on about how he wants to reset and reshape jujutsu society as it stands now, he channels all of his energy into this one singular goal. 

You can’t help but admire him for that kind of dedication, that kind of passion. You are curious what made him choose this kind of path because if you had to be honest with yourself, Gojo doesn’t seem the teaching or Sensei type. Far too lax, far too easy going and goofy. But maybe the students need a personality like that. Still, he deserves something where he can really let loose and not lose so much sleep over. (Yes, you have caught wind about his wild sleep schedule that would put most soldiers to shame.)

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Sensei ,” you tease with a little smirk twitching on your lips as he appears aghast at that address. Just pouting like some petulant child who’s just been denied his favorite snack. “So seriously, since it’s just us, what’s the plan for today? I don’t have much going on, so you better make this worth my time.”

Of course you mean it in jest. You don’t plan to bail on him, not when you’ve already made it a point to yourself that you aren’t going to leave him hanging. Even everyone else has made some remark about how ‘brave’ you’re being just enduring extra time with Gojo, but you don’t view it that way at all. You might be the odd one out here, but thus far you just don’t get it.

The big deal, you mean.

He finally speaks up again.

“Come on, seriously? I’m going to have to beat Gojo or Sensei out of your system. You’re a student in a way, sure, but like I just told you, you’re not my student, you know?” 

You hide your smirk into your palm. “Whatever you say…”

In spite of himself, he’s smiling at your antics, and that’s really your only goal. Just like he gives everyone else a hard time all on purpose, you’re returning that energy, and the good news is that he doesn’t seem to mind it all that much. That’s progress more than anything, right? Here you are, doing a better job at adjusting to your new environment than you expected to be doing, and he’s honestly made this new life a lot easier for you too–even if he doesn’t know it just yet. 

Actually, why not change that right now? 

“Gojo, I um…” you start a bit tentatively before you break into a fit of giggles again at his melodrama. “Seriously, thank you.”

He raises an eyebrow at that as he adjusts his blindfold. “What for?” 

“Making me feel like part of the group,” you answer, “You work really hard to make sure I don’t feel left behind, and I just appreciate it. That’s all.” 

He looks at you like he’s in a bit of a daze before shaking himself out of his stupor. He probably doesn’t get recognized for his efforts enough; teachers are an underappreciated profession in every aspect of life, it seems like, even in the world of jujutsu.

“It’s kind of, you know, basic human decency and all,” he reasons, but somehow he keeps an even tone with an underlying layer of playfulness. “Plus that’s kind of my job too, or at least part of it.”

”So what?” you challenge him, but you don’t mean to in a negative way. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be recognized for something like that.”

”For doing the bare minimum?” he nearly scoffs at that notion, but you do catch him smiling a little, which is the goal here. “All right, whatever you say, Princess.”

”Princess?” you repeat, your lips curling into a little bit of a pout. This time it’s you raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize I gave off that vibe.”

”A vibe of…?” he beckons you to finish that statement for him.

”Spoiled rotten?” you try to fill in the blanks with the first thing that pops in your mind and he once again looks aghast that that is the first thing you would even consider! “Bratty? Mean?” 

”No! You don’t act like that at all,” he counters, a hand over his heart as you feel his eyes scanning you through his blindfold. “You give Pretty Princess vibes, though.”

”Pretty Princess, huh?” Is he just trying to flatter you or wiggle his way out of something else? 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “You’re pretty. I thought you’re aware of that fact.”

”Am I?” Your gaze flits to your feet as they shift, his words settling in. He does sound genuine. You have to admit—you don’t get called that often, or at all as far as you remember.

”You are,” he insists, poking your cheek, brushing the tip of his finger along your skin. “You should really believe that a little more, you know? Being humble is so out these days.”

”Of course Satoru Gojo would say something like that,” you snark back with a roll of your eyes. “But that is sweet.”

”Well yeah, I’m Satoru fucking Gojo, and what I say is definitely law,” he retorts with a playful smile twitching on his lips again. 

“Weren’t we supposed to be doing something?” you remind him after a beat of silence, and Gojo hums in thought after he mulls over what you might have meant by that. 

“If you want, I could help you train today. Ijichi’s working with Itadori and Nanami right now with something…” he trails off, “Unless you’d rather do something fun instead, like I could show you some of my favorite places with all of the best sweets in the world!”

”I think we should train first, Sensei ,” you reply, “I’ve been slacking and I want to make sure I can make my veils actually last long enough.”

”Oh for fuck’s sake, I told you—I’m not your Sensei at least.”

”Uh huh,” you quip, “But you know what, you’re right, you’re not my Sensei because people might assume you’re trying to fraternize with a student because you just admitted you think I’m pretty.”

”Or I was just merely making an obvious statement,” he insists, “You just happen to have a hard time believing that you are with the way you carry yourself. Easy to tell when someone doesn’t know who they are or what they want, you know?” 

“Oh, and I suppose then that means you’re an expert at that kind of thing?” you probe while batting your eyelashes. 

Gojo nods, “Of course! That’s my whole role in society after all.” 

 “Is it?” You scoot in closer to him, ignoring the way your heart is racing beneath your breasts as your nose barely brushes against his. His Infinity is down with you, and his skin does feel so soft just from that. “Then enlighten me, Gojo. Is this going to help me perfect my cursed technique if I have a better sense of identity or of my desires in life?” 

“Well yeah,” Gojo starts, but you do catch him faltering slightly, likely from the sudden proximity. “I mean, knowing who you are and what sets you off is a major key in harnessing your cursed energy. I mean, cursed energy is all about keeping your emotions in check. Cursed energy is primarily negative energy so learning how to channel that energy into something against a spirit is important. And you know, low self esteem counts as negativity and that can cause curses to spawn. I mean, didn’t you hear about Okkatsu and how he cursed a normal girl because he didn’t want her to die? Curses can come from both sorcerers and non sorcerers. Until Okkatsu, all we knew was that curse spirits are often a manifestation of non sorcerer cursed energy…”

You nod along as he rambles on. “Uh huh. So how does someone go about managing their negative feelings then?”

“Well, I remember helping Itadori out by having him watch a bunch of terribly boring or annoying movies,” he explains as taps his finger against his chin. “We could do that but I think you need something a little more advanced than that. Like I mean you already seem to have a good handle on your emotions since you’re spending all of this time with me and you seem more charmed than irked by my presence.”

”Why would I be irked by your presence?” you interject, “I didn’t give off that vibe to you, did I?” 

“I may be the world’s strongest sorcerer but that doesn’t earn me brownie points in popularity,” he admits, but he’s acting like it doesn’t affect him when it likely definitely does. “Even Megumi gets easily ticked off at me and I’m raising the kid.” 

You huff at that. “I mean, you know what they say, Gojo. You could be the juiciest peach, and there’ll still be someone who doesn’t like peaches. So who cares!” 

”And Megumi definitely doesn’t like peaches,” he snorts with a shake of his head.

”Oh, please. Don’t say that!” you retort with a playful shove to his shoulder. “He adores you. Kind of like how he behaves like he’s annoyed by Itadori all the time but he didn’t want him to die for a reason.”

“A fair point, m’lady.” 

“First Princess, and now m’lady?” you tease, “Come on, this is getting ridiculous.”

“Alright, alright!” Gojo surrenders while clasping his hands together.  “Okay, so are we training or what?”

“Of course,” you reply, “Just tell me where we can start and then as a reward for staying consistent, we can go grab all of those sweets you keep talking to me about, because now I can’t stop thinking about them.”

Gojo laughs, “Deal.”

It’s not outright obvious to anyone or even you at first, but Gojo has been tagging along with you wherever you went like an over excited little puppy dog. He behaves more like your guard dog in much more public areas though. You don’t mind his constant shadow at first, thinking it as a nice refreshing change of pace after spending most of your time in solitude. It can either be comforting or it can be suffocating. But you don’t find Gojo suffocating, not like how everyone else seems to. 

And maybe he has taken that to heart, which is another thing about him you don’t find yourself minding. Clearly, he just hasn’t been used to someone actually actively wanting to be around him after who knows how long since you waltzed into Satoru Gojo’s world and maybe a part of you finds it flattering that he enjoys your company so much. 

“Hey,” Gojo stops you while you’re strolling side by side down a street with many jewelry, makeup, or designer clothing stores down the strip. “Didn’t you say you needed to restock on some makeup?”

A record breaks in your mind. Say what now? He actually listens to your mindless ramblings? Why are you so shocked every time someone pays attention to you, especially someone as esteemed as Satoru Gojo? Moreover, why are you still gawking at him like he’s just sprouted three extra heads? 

You blink once at him. Then twice. You glance up at the store he’s stopped you for and your breath hitches. A Sephora, huh? Is he sure about this? What is he even thinking about, splurging so much money on you like it’s not a big deal to him? Your eyes scan the rows upon rows of various brands you have only watched Youtube influencers review and can only dream of owning yourself. The Dior row is especially calling out to you like a siren in the Dead Sea. 

This is so dangerous… you pout, gaze flitting between Gojo and the entrance to the store. Your gaze lingers on the Dior aisle once more. You long for some of those lip oils. Or their blushes even if a lot of influencers have admitted they suck for their price points… 

“Yeah, but…” you trail off, frowning as you peek through the windows, fearing for the total costs if you actually do follow up on his offer. “Their stuff is usually out of my budget.”

A brief silence stretches over the two of you. You’re about to turn but he stops you, grabbing your wrist, and you glance up at him through your lashes. 

“Don’t sweat it. I got it,” he offers with a small smirk, pushing the door open for you and your feet stop you just short of entering the store. 

“Seriously,”—he places an arm on your shoulder—“I got it.”

“I can’t pay you back,” you reply, biting on your lip. 

“You don’t have to. Come on,” he declares as he grabs your wrist, yanking you inside. The dozens of stares falling on the two of you make your heart flutter but it’s probably not you they’re really paying attention to. In fact you’re absolutely positive it’s probably because of Gojo. He’s a show stopper in a lot of ways. Maybe they’re gawking at how tall or handsome he is, how shock snow white his hair is. Wondering what shade his eyes are beneath his blindfold that he wears all the time. 

Wondering what he’s doing with a puny little thing like you in a cosmetics store. Maybe they’re all wondering if you’re a couple and he’s just your sweet patient boyfriend humoring your love for cosmetics. 

As if you can ever be with someone as untouchable as Satoru Gojo. You can only dream of being with someone like him, someone so otherworldly and ethereal and practically regarded as some kind of Messiah. 

Gojo stands close to you, and you observe him. It’s hard to figure out what anyone’s thinking without seeing their eyes. You wonder how his Six Eyes must be unbearable for him a lot of the time that he has to wear a blindfold. 

As if he senses you staring, he peels his blindfold back and hums as if lost in thought. 

“I think you talked about loving lipstick the most, right? What brand do you like to wear? Gucci? YSL?” he inquires idly while lifting his blindfold; he scans the aisles before walking toward one of the more expensive luxury brands you can never hope to afford a first time around already. You grab his elbow and stop him in place, and he peers down at you, those blue eyes appearing to admit a kind of glow. 

“I can’t afford to wear any of those!” you protest, flabbergasted, “Can we just stick to the mid-range priced items? You really don’t have to buy me anything!”

“You can now! So name the brand and we’ll look at it, yeah?” he retaliates with a goofy grin that is convincing enough to let him win you entirely over. This is not something you can easily accept from anyone! Not even him! Especially not him! It feels all kinds of wrong to you if you can’t return the favor in any way and you know you can’t. He knows you can’t either and he’s doing this anyway all because he wants to. There is no hint of obligation or feeling like he has to repay you for spending so much time with him.

You almost want to shrivel up and die in that very moment, but he’s being kind of pushy and you don’t really know why. It’s not like you can’t go get makeup at some affordable drugstore, and he can just pay for those, something you can easily return the favor for with enough time. 

You’re not all that picky. And you know one taste of luxury is going to have you hooked for life . There’s no going back. 

Although, like you have been fantasizing about already, you have been dying for anything from Tom Ford or YSL or Dior… 

You drag out a sigh as you weigh out your options. 

“You’re not going to let me get out of here until I let you buy me things, aren’t you?” you inquire in a flat tone. 

Gojo’s still grinning ridiculously and you kind of hate how cute he looks getting all giddy at the prospect of spoiling a friend just because. 

“Now you’re getting it! So seriously, what are we feeling?” he asks again, that stupid grin of his unmoving. 

Yet you find it more endearing than annoying like everyone else seems to… 

“Slow down,” you reply. He relaxes his grip on your wrist and you release it. You don’t miss that unreadable expression flashing in a nanosecond. “There have been some shades I’ve been needing. But we are not going overboard here. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” he answers almost robotically with a mock salute. You fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

You lead him to one of the Dior aisles where a classic red lip shade catches your eye. You have two defaults, and you don’t need too much makeup: a flattering red lip for an occasion and a flattering nude shade for everyday is really all you’re going to need in this department. Then you know you need the rest—new foundation, new concealer, mascara, etc. etc. 

And since Gojo is being so pushy you may as well take advantage of the opportunity. Even if does feel all kinds of wrong in your soul you know he’s not letting you get off that easily. So you decide to reframe it this way: you’re really only allowing this because Gojo’s resolve about this isn’t going to budge. 

“Oh! This shade is gorgeous,” you muse out loud as you pry one of the tester red lipsticks and grab one of the free lip applicators to test the color on your lips. You glance around for a mirror and find one just down the aisle, pouting your lips into it as you assess the shade you chose. You hum in thought. 

Then you turn to Gojo, who’s keeping a fair distance but watching your every move. 

“Do you like it?” you inquire, pointing to the shade painting your lips.

“It’s nice,” he replies, “Totally evens out, um, your complexion!”

You giggle into your hand. He’s trying , which is better than most men who have ever walked into your life. Most of them think makeup is fake or stupid or pointless or just plain lying. Then in the same breath claim they like a natural girl but most of them don’t understand what a natural girl looks like. 

Gojo seems a smidge less ignorant about that kind of thing though. Just a smidge. 

“C’mere,” you declare as you gesture with a come hither motion. He obliges, and you have to prop yourself up on your tippy toes just to reach his cheek, where you smack your lips against. A bold move, perhaps, but he deserves it for all of this generosity he apparently isn’t known for at all amongst his colleagues. 

“How ‘bout now?” you ask with a sultry purr, fluttering your lashes. Which both definitely feel naked. You love mascara. They definitely need a good mascara… something both lengthening and volumizing, perhaps? You haven’t been exploring much in that regard…  

“It’s perfect ,” he purrs smoothly, not skipping a beat. He doesn’t even bother wiping off the stain and it’s not like you two are an item or something. You just want to give something back. “Aren’t you going to try more shades?”

You deflate, flushing a little at that as you twiddle your fingers. Oh, he sounds a little too interested now. Should you back off? 

You pull back. Absently you run your tongue around your teeth as you eye your reflection. Oh wow, this shade kind of makes your teeth look way whiter so you’re definitely snagging it. This really is so dangerous and it’s not fair hat Gojo is making you go through with committing such a sin. Grabbing a basket and tossing the tube of lipstick into it while swiping a makeup remover wipe from a nearby dispenser and cleaning the color off. Gojo snags the basket out of your hands. 

“Hey!” you protest again with another pout of your lips. There’s some blotches of leftover lipstick you missed but Gojo can’t help but find it cute. Almost a complete idea of what those pretty lips of yours might look like when he’s the one kissing the color off and not some damn makeup remover. 

“I got it,” he insists, keeping the shopping basket just out of your reach. “You enjoy more shopping, alright?”

Your eyes begin to twinkle and you don’t notice that Gojo’s heart must have skipped a beat in that moment. 

“Can we window shop at the designer stores here too?” you beg him eagerly, eyes sparkling like a child winning a plush toy in a claw machine.

“Yeah,” he breathes in reply, composing himself. “Anything.”

You’re not paying attention to him now as you’re already sprinting to check out the mascaras you’ve seen online and can only dream of owning yourself. This is already more power you can ever hope to have!

You snag the one you hear is best for your kind of lashes. 

But you find yourself scattering around all of the aisles but don’t buy that many things out of common decency. Even if someone like Gojo comes from a lot of money, it isn’t right. You just can’t help it though. He’s given you a taste already and you wish you could buy with your own money but that’s not a reality for you. You are going to allow yourself to indulge just this one time and then never again. As nice of a gesture it is from Gojo, you have not been raised a leech, and you’re not going to take advantage of someone’s generosity like that. So you give yourself an item limit but that doesn’t stop you from trying all of the samples of makeup and swatching the colors, asking for Gojo’s opinions and he tries to seem interested which is the nicest thing he could do for you.

All while you’re browsing, Gojo hangs back just to observe you. Admiring how lost you get in such a simple hobby to him and probably to everyone else. 

You just don’t realize how much he is truly paying attention to you. How much he wants to know more and more about you. Your likes. Your dislikes. What makes your eyes keep shining like that like they are here. 

Snapping discrete photos of the things you eye with longing but don’t toss into the basket for future reference. 

You test another lipstick shade in another brand aisle, then test it on Gojo’s cheek like you did before. A classic nude shade is something every girl needs, you tell him, and that’s all for the lipsticks. 

Once you grab all of your essentials you don’t even dare to so much glance at the receipt and neither does Gojo. Tossing it into the trash as soon as you both walk out. 

“So you don’t try to return anything out of guilt,” he explains with a little wink. “So, you still want to check out those designer stores?”

“Yes! Can we go to Chanel?” You clasp your hands together, doing your best to contain the fact that you may be a little too excited.

“Of course,” Gojo replies easily once again, “Anything.”

“I’m not buying anything! I just want to look,” you remind him as your hands rest on your hips, chin slightly raised. “You got me enough.”

You gesture to the bag he’s clutching with that huge hand of his, you can’t help but point out to yourself. And dang, you never have noticed before how long his fingers actually are… 

He follows your gaze, before glancing back at you and you catch onto what is a bit of a judgy stare in that he’s such a fucking nepo baby way. 

“There’s not even 10 items in here!” he argues with a fret. 

“Yeah but you forget my budget isn’t usually made for these items. You got me enough. Way more than enough,” you assure him, “Trust me. Let it go, Gojo. I let you buy me stuff already.”

“Fine, fine, waving the little white flag,” he quips while wagging a finger. “Now come on, we still have a whole day since that mission was cut short for us and the students.” 

“Alright, alright. Bossy,” you tease while flashing him a little smile and then planting another kiss on his cheek. Where this time he leans in completely prepared for. “Thank you, Gojo. You really didn’t have to. But this isn’t happening again.”

“Fine,” he relents, sagging his shoulders; he’s saying so to your face at least. You don’t know what he’s plotting behind that blindfold. But you choose to take his words at face value to spare him some dignity. 

You beam at him again, grabbing his free hand and leading him to the closest designer store. The same cycle continues. Your eyes twinkle like brilliant little galaxies upon the endless choices but you know you can’t really have them and you emphasized to Gojo again as you waltzed into the store together that you won’t let him buy anything more for you. 

But you still let yourself loose! Putting on a little fashion show for him. You grab an item you wish you could have for yourself. This piece feels vintage and soft, delicately crafted and sophisticated like everything else in these stores. You strike a few poses in front of a tall mirror and Gojo just watches idly on the sidelines as you enjoy yourself. Sometimes still capturing little snippets of you unguarded and you haven’t the slightest clue as you’re living out what you can only define as your dream life. These might make beautiful candids in his office or somewhere more private in his estate, but you have no idea he’s thinking that right then. You’re too busy having the time of your life. Grinning madly like you’re alight and carefree and you look absolutely stunning. 

And you don’t know that it’s absolutely killing him . It’s maddening, how well you flaunt yourself like this, like you’re dangling yourself in front of him, all his for the taking. 

You don’t know how he wants to bend you over and blow your back out in the middle of this fucking store, in the middle of the mall, in the back parking lot, or the parking deck. Anywhere. Everywhere. But you’re not his yet, but you’re dangling yourself in front of him like a tempting sin and he can’t take it. 

Not his mind, his body, his heart, his soul, and definitely not his aching cock straining through his boxers. 

It doesn’t seem like you notice either as you stride up to him, stars in your eyes as you show him another bag before putting it back. 

“Are we going to the other stores? Are you getting bored?” you ask, looking very much like you’re bouncing off the walls. Much like him when he’s consumed way too much sugar. 

“Of course. Anything,” he replies immediately repeating the same damn line but not before glancing away. “I have to take a quick trip to the washroom first. Do you want to grab a bite to eat too?”

You nod, following him out. You take the bag he was holding and wait for him by the restrooms. 

Thank God, you’re out of his line of sight for the moment. And the stalls are empty. Doubly thank God . No one has to watch someone as esteemed as Satoru Goio (not that the mortal world would know anything at all about someone like him) fist a few just because he can’t control himself. What is he, some kind of hormonal schoolboy? What the fuck! He’s got more class than this! 

Resorting to something like this… 

It’s unbecoming. So very unbecoming of a man known to be the strongest in this physical and metaphysical world. 

He can be quiet about all of this, even still. He just… 

He just needs to take care of this before he loses his fucking mind and takes you for himself. 

(Maybe he might have already been plotting how to do that. To shield you from a world who only looks at you one way and no other way.)

On some occasions, Shoko joins you and Gojo when he wants a little company. Shoko has said before that she considers him dear even if she playfully declares he’s trash like any other man. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t make time for him, though. Especially when there’s alcohol involved and she doesn’t have to worry about paying those ridiculously expensive tabs. 

You have gotten used to going out with them on work nights (which is honestly every night with Gojo, at least), and you have come to realize his expectations each time. This time you have gotten some pointers on how to make yourself a bit more put together with these transitions from Shoko and you can’t be more grateful. You haven’t delved into the world of beauty all that much before this, mostly because you’ve had no reason to and you only stuck to the bare basics, but now you have a bit more of a social life than you once had. 

And maybe you want to catch Gojo’s eye in another way and not just in terms of your potential as a sorcerer. 

You glance over your shoulder, frowning as you take note that Gojo has yet to pop out into the front schoolyard where you planned to meet together before driving off. The nighttime air is crisp but a bit nippy; you’re scrunching your nose each time you feel a feathery light gust of wind tickle your face, and the thick layer of foundation you beat all over your face to death with a beauty sponge isn’t doing you many favors in the world of uncomfortable sensory feelings. A part of you wants to claw your face off because you’re not used to full glam looks, even if this is a softer glam look. You prefer the light every day getup, ‘no makeup makeup’ or whatever these trendy girls call it, you wish you were as cool and trendy as they are but you feel like you fall behind on what’s cool all the time. 

You twist back around while admiring Shoko with stars in your eyes. God, you have so much inner work to do yourself! She seems to know everything about how to bring out your best self and she embodies an absolute goddess in your eyes. She’s an ethereal presence. Her chestnut brown hair flowing down to her buttocks, her slim figure and her heart shaped face are all downright enviable. She can have anyone she wants, and she probably knows it too. 

Man, what you’d give for confidence like hers. Gojo does have a point from before–a negative self image is no good and can interfere with your progress as a sorcerer yourself. Even if you’re not all that interested in power scaling, you still want to be able to protect the students and yourself when the situation calls for it. 

Shoko calls your name, and you snap back to reality, blinking owlishly as she lights herself another cigarette to burn through–how many of those has she had in one day already? Is she one of those types to smoke entire packs within a night or a whole 24 hours? It’s not like they’re actually going to kill her or anything from what you understand about reverse cursed technique, but that doesn’t mean destroying your body over and over just for the shits and giggles. 

“Why do you go hang out with Gojo without another thought?” Shoko asks you out of the blue as you grow increasingly impatient waiting for Gojo to get here–he’s probably working on wrapping up some things for future missions this week or something–and you purse your lips as you shrug off her question. 

“Everyone needs a friend,” you decide is your simple response. Shoko stares blankly at you but you remain firm in your answer. You don’t believe it needs any further elaboration. And technically, it really shouldn’t. You’re just not that kind of girl. The kind to just take advantage of someone just because you can get away with it. There’s nothing “in it” for you at all. Stripping away all of your layers, you’re truly just a simple girl at your core. 

But for some reason, Shoko doesn’t buy that answer right away. 

“Really? Are you absolutely sure about that? Is there something in it for you?” she prods, and of course you’re right on the money of her being unsure, but her tone isn’t accusatory or anything—she’s just trying to seek an understanding of your motives and truthfully you have none. Nothing outright malicious or self-motivating, anyway, like she likely suspects. “Don’t get me wrong. Satoru’s a dear friend of mine but he usually bribes me with drinks or the nicer cigarettes when I’m not particularly interested in doing something with him involved.”

“No,” you declare, once again, with full confidence, swiping a pocket mirror from your clutch and pouting your lips, touching up on your lipstick which has already smudged off a bit. It’s a nude shade that complements your features; you’re still a student when it comes to these things but the tips Shoko has offered you for a more “office appropriate” look has helped plenty. Besides, Gojo has bought you all of those nice luxury brands that are typically so out of your budget; why not put them to daily use like you should so they don’t go to waste and expire because you’re too afraid to use such nice things? 

You recall all of those suggestions of hers—a medium-buildable coverage skin tint, a natural, luminary blush, two mascaras that separate, lengthen, thicken, and hold your curls without getting too clumpy or smudge throughout the day. All put together with a soft glam eye shadow look. It’s perfect. The girl’s a fucking genius at this stuff. 

“Then why?” Shoko prods again, a little too insistently. You wonder why the fuss. Just like she must wonder why the fuss! Is Gojo that bad of a person to be around because you genuinely haven’t gotten that vibe? If anything else, he’s become a comfort to you. You have been kind of used to being alone too. It doesn’t feel as sad as it sounds, not like how it must feel for Gojo. 

You try not to seem a little dejected by the fact that Shoko is suspicious of you. It’s not like she knows you well, though… 

“Because it’s like I just said, everyone needs a friend! The kind of friend who doesn’t want anything from them in return, or at least doesn’t expect it,” you continue to her after stashing the tube of lipstick and pocket mirror back into the Chanel clutch you still are absolutely positive Gojo sent you after your last outing together. “He just, I don’t know. He seems kind of… I don’t know. Alone. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“We hardly have the time for our own struggles,” Shoko remarks, turning away with a wistful expression. “Why do you think I smoke so much?”

“Maybe that’s the problem with all of you guys,” you point out, not meaning to try to read people to filth here or anything like that as you’re fluffing your hair a little bit. You’re just starting to see a pattern. Ugh, these fucking flyaways! How does Shoko’s hair always look so perfect even in these conditions? That’s something else to ask advice about from her later… “You guys are too caught up in your own lives to notice what’s going on right in front of you. I’m not saying that to call anyone out; it’s just the way everyone’s wired, anyway. Human nature and stuff. We are too busy worrying about ourselves to worry about everyone else all the time. if we did that then we can’t live our damned lives, and that just can’t do. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to remind the people in your life that you care about them.”

Shoko frowns in response to that, burning through her current cigarette which is already halfway gone. Bits of ashes drop unceremoniously to the ground as she puffs out some smoke, mulling over your words, and something flashes in her eyes, like she’s flipping channels of so many memories in her mind but for some reason you doubt it involves Gojo and probably some other people she considers close to her.

“That’s a fair point, I guess,” she grunts, her eyes flashing again with something–something like grief or regret ? Over what? Do you pry or just keep it to yourself? 

“Is there something I’m missing about Gojo?” you finally demand of her, your tone thick with curiosity as ever like you’re trying to debug some kind of code. “You guys all keep rambling on about how he’s this peculiar character and yeah, I’m not denying it but what sorcerer isn’t a little crazy? Don’t you have to be in a profession like this, one where the majority of the population would write off as utter hocus pocus?” 

Shoko processes more of your rapid fire questions before shrugging, taking another shot at her cancer stick between her fingers which is nearly gone now. She burns through those like Gojo burns through all those sugary foods he ingests practically every second of every day.

“Spend more time with him and find out,” Shoko answers, probably more flippantly than she intends to sound, flicking more ash off of her cigarette as a wry smile plays on those juicily glossed lips of hers. You almost want to pout at how she seems to have everything figured out for herself–from the way she carries herself to the way she shows up for herself too. Dark sultry eye makeup with a flawless makeup base and when she decks herself out, she decks herself out . You can’t recognize her sometimes outside of work when she’s having too much fun cutting up dead bodies and putting together autopsies or beautifying dead bodies or whatever else she does as a healer  “It’s never a dull moment. Love the guy to death, but even I have my limits with him.”

“No one is easy to be around,” you admonish with a sigh. “Not even me. I know my shortcomings or at least the ones I’ve been made aware of thus far. With that kind of logic, you won’t have anyone around you.”

“That’s…also a fair point,” Shoko acknowledges with a nod, more bits of ashes dropping to the concrete below. “I guess I might have some reflecting to do. But you know, I have noticed Gojo becoming a little more relaxed these days. You’re probably why.”

“Oh, come on,” you giggle, hinting at a bit of uncertainty. “I’m just little old me.”

“And that might be someone Gojo needs,” she adds with a little wink, before her gaze flits to your purse. “You still haven’t made a guess on who’s been sending you these expensive gifts? Who else do you know likes to spend money without any regard for how much it is?”

You follow her gaze to the purse before shaking your head in response. 

“Well of course I know it’s Gojo,” you admit bashfully as you ponder her other words. Gojo is a perfectly capable man who doesn’t rely on anyone. Surely he doesn’t need someone like you around, right? “No one else around here is made of money like he is. And I doubt someone like Gojo needs someone like me.”

“How can you be so sure?” she teases in a singsong tone. “I’m just saying—he clearly doesn’t hide the fact, either.”

You don’t really know how to respond or react to that. You aren’t going to deny it, not really. Gojo has been a lot more attentive with you than anyone else, and he’s known Shoko since they went to high school right here at Jujutsu Tech together. She has to know so much more about him than even she cares to know about Satoru Gojo and maybe there’s a part of you that wants to badger her for all of the information she might have on him for… reasons .

Hm. Maybe there is something in it for you, but you expect absolutely nothing regardless. You don’t want to be like those people who try to be someone’s friend just to get with them. That’s not really being someone’s friend. That’s being a total weirdo and no one wants to be that guy.

“I should say I also commend you for a character like yours,” Shoko admits after a moment of reflection–maybe she does have to check in with herself too more than you realize. There must be a lot she’s hiding from everyone too. “We don’t see authenticity like that around here these days so it’s probably a breath of fresh air for Satoru too.”

“I hope you’re not insinuating what I think you are, Miss Ie—I mean, Shoko,” you stammer as a blush rushes to your cheeks. 

“I’m not insinuating anything,” she teases, pinching your cheek. “But it has been a while since Satoru has acted like this. Not since…” She holds off on finishing that thought, which again piques your interest but you don’t poke and prod the bear with the stick, and instead she settles with: “Yeah, not since a while.”

Your forehead wrinkles a bit as you ponder her words. 

Now you’re only left in the dark much more than you already have been in the world of jujutsu sorcerers. You are still a fledgling yourself, yet right off the bat Gojo determines you should be bumped up to grade 2. Not only that but you learn that Satoru Gojo is something like a quasi-religious figure around here, possessing both the Limitless and Six Eyes cursed techniques which hasn’t been a thing for centuries, apparently. He’s the strongest special grade out there to exist, but he has admitted to you and to the higher ups that there are going to be many who surpass the special grade rank and by extension may surpass him. He expects that of Itadori, Fushiguro, and Okkatsu, in particular, but he hopes for that for the future generations as a whole. 

Still, these don’t really fill in many blanks for you. You don’t understand why everyone’s got their reservations over Gojo; if anything, he’s so arrogant and haughty because he can back up his claims and that must grind everyone’s gears. To a certain extent you can understand the frustration everyone has with him, but that can’t be all there is to it. Then again, you have only been on Jujutsu Tech grounds for what, five months or something like that now, tops? You still have so much to see in how he interacts with the others. Other superiors, other colleagues, but with his students, they seem to enjoy his company… (well, at least Itadori seems to; the second years have a few choice words on how to describe him.)

“Did I leave you ladies waiting?” you hear a voice call out to the two of you. 

Your head snaps up to find Gojo carrying dozens of bags hooked around all of his slender fingers. You can’t help but giggle at the sight because it reminds you of the times you did the same thing to spare you another trip to the trunk with all of your purchases. 

“What’s all this?” you question with a smile. Gojo pauses before answering, as if a little taken aback by a change in you. Probably he’s noticed you put a little more effort to look more business appropriate, actually with a full face of (hopefully passable) makeup… 

“You look lovely, I-I mean, as always, of course,” he coughs before he sets all of the bags aside. “And ah, I just tend to splurge a little. Stuff for the school, stuff for the students, stuff for me…” 

“That’s sweet of you,” you comment before you cradle the Chanel clutch in both your hands and present it to him. “So does this mean you actually are the one responsible for this?”

Gojo’s face falls for a split second before bouncing back. “Did you not like the color choice? I still have the receipt and I can change it o—!”

—You raise your hand to cut him off. 

“I only started using these because I have no idea if I should return these to you, but now I do,” you interject with a little chuckle. “If this is your way to thank me for hanging out with you all of those times, I don’t need an incentive for it, Gojo. I’m happy to hang out with you because we’re friends, aren’t we?”

Gojo beams at that. “Of course we are! Just, you know! Don’t worry about the gifts. Use ‘em or don’t—I just like giving gifts, and um, you deserve them, and stuff.”

“And stuff?” Shoko quips, shooting Gojo a look with a little wraggle of those perfectly groomed eyebrows of hers. Gods you’re so jealous of her effortless beauty. “Real suave, Satoru.”

“Like you know how to charm a girl’s pants off,” Satoru shoots back. 

“I think we know who gets more pussy between the two of us,” Shoko deadpans.

You can’t help snorting at that. Why do people find this guy so off-putting? It honestly seems like he tries really hard to bring some light into the situation since life as a sorcerer is far from peaceful. If he finds you refreshing, then you find his character just as refreshing right back. 

“Girl, yes, show ‘em,” you cackle into your hand. Shoko grins at your words of encouragement and Gojo’s posture slumps at that. 

“No more expensive alcohol for you,” he huffs like an insolent toddler, folding his arms over his chest. Shoko doesn’t seem all that bothered, shrugging him off. 

“I’ve been meaning to swear off that stuff anyway.” At some point between all of the silly banter she’s tossed the butt of her cigarette away and admits that she’s finished another pack. 

“God, you really have to nip that nasty habit in the bud,” Gojo suggests with a sly little grin and a cock of his head. Shoko rolls her eyes. 

“Cry me a river. We all have our thing. Mine’s smoking. Yours is sweets. One step at a time or whatever,” she answers, brushing her hair behind her shoulder. “Are you two ready to go?”

“Where do you plan to keep all of those bags?” you query, and Gojo’s eyebrows flash. 

“I’ll take care of it,” he replies after considering your question. “Let me do that real quick, actually.”

Gojo strolls off with those items and returns just moments later with a thumbs up. Shoko has a look on her face that you almost want to call her out on but you decide to hold your tongue for the time being. You tap your foot on the earth beneath you as Gojo shuffles back to the two of you after storing away all of those various ‘goods’ he’s stocked up on that you can’t help but be a little curious about. Gojo tosses you a little grin and you find yourself grinning back, and as soon as that happens you can feel Shoko’s scrutiny seep deeper and deeper into your soul and you are absolutely tempted to call her out on it until Gojo speaks up.

“Okay, now I’m ready to go!” Gojo announces, his gaze fixing on you, which Shoko definitely takes into account as she’s still assessing you with that fucking look in her eyes that says ‘ nothing in it for you, huh? ’  “I was just kidding about the no expensive alcohol part, Shoko.”

“I figured,” Shoko chuckles, “Now stop eye fucking her and let’s go.”

You hide your face as it reddens an even darker shade, if that’s even possible at thai point.

“I-I was not!” Gojo blubbers and Shoko cackles back at his face as his posture slumps a bit again. Even if you're suppressing the urge to bust up laughing at his reaction, mostly because you do not expect it, acting like he’s been caught red handed doing something completely unforgivable. 

“Uh-huh,” Shoko scoffs as she saunters off with the two of you following close behind her. 

You catch Gojo sneaking a few glances at you. You don’t seem to mind that at all and are actually feeling your heart soar to the heavens. But you notice something else. Him inching a pinky toward yours. You try to bite back a little hint of a grin but fail, so you initiate, curling yours around his and you can hear the faintest sound of a contented sigh escape his lips. 

Shoko’s back is still to the both of you, her hips flouncing as she walks like she has no care for the world what the two of you do. You hope you’re not giving her the impression that she’s the third wheel because it’s not like the two of you are together or anything like that. As far as you know. You have already written off the possibility of you and Gojo ever being a thing. He’s so far out of your reach but he seems happy being all touchy with you like he is your boyfriend and for some reason you don’t have an issue with that. 

Well of course you don’t have an issue with that. This is the closest you’re ever going to get, and that’s perfectly all fine and good with you. Besides, you have reminded yourself that you’re not in it for yourself. Gojo is happy to have found some kind of comfort in you, and that’s your goal. 

“Sheesh, Shoko’s too eager to get absolutely shitfaced on all that beer,” Gojo leans in and whispers into your ear. “But she has the strongest alcohol tolerance I have ever seen. Reverse cursed technique is pretty dang awesome once you get the hang of it, but it’s easier said than done. Took me forever to figure out how to use it.”

”Are you gossiping about me back there, Satoru?” Shoko accuses as she tosses her head over her shoulder. 

“No ma’am,” he vows, “Just giving her the 411 on your drinking abilities.”

”So you’re admitting to gossiping, you useless shitstain,” Shoko snorts but she doesn’t seem to take it that seriously. You still aren’t sure what the dynamic is between them, but they do seem closer than everyone else here. 

“Oops!” Gojo hollers back at her with a little snicker. “Keep walking those thick ass fucking thighs of yours so we can get to our ride, pissface.”

”Oh, that’s a new one! And you wish you had these thighs, fuckface!” Shoko shouts with her tone laced in sarcasm as they approach the parking deck. She refuses to allow Gojo to ‘warp’ them everywhere. You have yet to experience what that’s like. Having cursed techniques like Gojo’s must come with so many perks like getting to mimic flying and shit. You still are not sure what you can do with your techniques.

Now you’re practically in stitches at their exchanges. They’re riots around each other. Shoko’s not kidding about there never being a dull moment, but why does she say so with it laced with some negative connotations? There must be something you’re missing in this picture but you’re not putting two and two together. All you know is that you enjoy Gojo’s company and Gojo enjoys your company just as much, and just because everyone else keeps their distance doesn’t mean that you have to because you don’t find Gojo burdensome like everyone around you seems to. Maybe there’s something there, something where you have yet to scratch the surface and unravel, but who the hell knows? 

As you follow Shoko, you don’t miss Gojo’s hand grazing your pinky now dropping to rest on the small of your back. You peer up at him with curiosity twinkling in your stare; what’s going on in his mind? Why’s he–? Suddenly that sharp prickle of goosebumps scatter across your arms as you catch onto some men staring you down around the block. 

Your eyes flit to different areas of the street ahead once you exit Jujutsu Tech grounds; is he trying to make a statement, or something? 

“Gojo?” you mutter, as you attempt to shy away from his touch. “No one’s going to try anything, you know?”

His mouth twitches as he glances down at you, slipping his hand away and allowing it to fall back to its side. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles back, “You never know with men , you know? You can trust me on that one.”

Should you have paid closer attention you may have caught onto the fact that he might be calling himself out there. But you shrug off his behavior as you finally approach where Shoko parked her sedan in one of the parking garages, but Gojo’s still on high alert, scouting any potential threats like you’re easy prey or something.

You just give him one final curious glance before hopping into the backseat, Gojo deciding to join you back there. Shoko starts her car and pulls out of the parking area, not before making some quip to Gojo about something you have no context over, and neither bother to fill you in on the topic. It’s probably not something that concerns you anyway; you’re going to focus on a night out with your friends.

And they are your friends. You’re glad Shoko considers you as one, and that Gojo thinks of you as one. Even if it is still way too intimate to call him Satoru for some reason no matter how much he insists you absolutely can call him that. You really are adjusting to life here a little better than you think, and while the progress may be gradual, you have a feeling it’s just going to get better for you from here.

[thehighpriestess1]

Updated 💖

Make A Wish

If you were given a chance to go back in time to a particular decisive moment and restart of life knowing everything you know now, would you do it? Will y/n do it? How will it affect Gojo?

Welcome to my new fanfiction Gojo Satoru and our beloved reader! Join me as I put you through some long awaited angst!

Comment below to join the taglist.

1st chapter coming sooner than you expect ;)

Genre: Angst

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x reader

Status: In works

Ask box

Playlist for the series. This is a safe space playlist so feel free to add any song that resonates with you. Language is not a barrier, all genre and language songs are welcome 💖

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | chapter 3

[fandomtherapy44]

Work Rivals Gojo Satoru x Fem! reader

Paring: Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader

Warnings: SMUT, language

Reblog Banner and 18+ Banner

and divider

cafekitsune

CW: 1,815

Summary: Y/n and Gojo have always been in competition fighting for who's the best. So what happens when an elevator breaks down and they are forced to face their real feelings?

Satoru Gojo, how do you describe someone who is a giant pain in my ass! My whole life I have been in consistent competition with him our whole life. It started in high school, where in each class and each test I felt like if he was just one point above me he would be laughing about it to everyone. I mean, I wouldn't know, I haven't really met him, but I knew if I was not on top, my family would think I was a failure. We both come from super old families that always expected that we were the best in everything from classes to who had the best lunch. I’m serious about the lunch thing in elementary school, our parents would send chefs to school and would make whatever we wanted.

And somehow he would always beat me, always one point ahead of me. It made me infuriated, also my parents breathing down my neck did not help. So when we finally got out of high school, I thought I could breathe and focus on myself, I was very wrong. First day Gojo had my job too. Every day got worse and worse to this little competition. Also, it wasn't great that my friend thought he was hot and would constantly talk about him.

“Y/n!” She ran after me as we went for coffee. “Did you see Gojo this morning, like oh my gosh, can he get even more perfect like I’m pretty sure he was wearing a Gucci shirt.” She sighed dreamily.

“Kai, what does it matter if it’s Gucchi or not?” I muttered while stirring my coffee in my cup. Trying to hold back my disdain.

“Um, how about the fact he’s rich too Y/n!” She shoved my shoulder in disbelief. 

“He’s not that great!” I raised my voice without meaning to everyone who looked at me.

“You talk about him like he’s the devil reincarnated but you've barely spoken to him.” Kai studied me with suspicion.

“Wait? Don’t tell me you guys used to date!?” My eyes widened at that.

“No! God No! It’s just that we went to school together.” I mumbled again.

“WHAT!” I spring up and cover her mouth and drag her into another room.

“Don’t scream that!” I swatted at her.

“Girl how could you keep that from me! That you went to school with Gojo Satoru!” 

“It’s not like we're friends we actually were in more of a rivalry then anything.” I crossed my arms looking down.

“Is that why you pretty much hate him?”

“I don’t hate him… It just annoys me how perfect he is.”

“Gotcha… well if that was me I would have hopped on that white-haired train a long time ago.” She moves her eyebrows up and down in a suggestive way.

“I know everyone would if they could.” Another thing that annoys me. 

Our elevator sucks we've told our boss like twenty times to get it fixed so you know we don’t die, but it’s still broken. I enter it sighing thinking about all the work I had to do and then I hear a voice yelling to hold the door.

“Wait, hold the door!” It was a smooth, low voice, the kind that would make any person pass out. And of course, it has to belong to fucking Gojo Satoru.

“Close close come on close!” I slammed on the button but the thing is broken so it’s slow as all hell.

“Thanks L/n.” He has a little pep in his step getting in the elevator. I roll my eyes and step to the side. I have to say he looks handsome today. A white button-up and black tailored pants. A silver Rolex on his wrist, pointing attention to his veiny-toned forearms. When he shifts, you can see his muscles bulge through the white fabric, making you want to see more. His leather briefcase scented with a light pine mixed with his cologne which was a Seawood and cinnamon musk. I hated how he could just be that handsome without even trying.

“So how is your project going?” He asks me to try to past the grueling three minutes.

“It’s fine Gojo,” I stated flatly.

“What you're not going to ask back?” 

“Why would I? I’m sure it’s going great for Gojo Satoru.” I scartiscally say huffing out my chest. 

“What’s with the attitude L/n?”

“I don’t know, Gojo, maybe it’s the fact that you don’t even have to try.”

“You don’t think I have to try!” He angrily expressed.

“Really you're playing the dumb card. Fine play it that way.” I couldn't believe him acting like he didn't know what I was talking about.

“I really don’t know what you're talking about!” He threw back. It seemed all my emotions of the last years had piled up and were being released like pompi.

“What about the fact that you have always won every competition, every test and now even at my job!” He lets the words sink in.

“You mean those stupid competitions that our parents put us in when we were kids!?”

“They were never stupid to me!” I’m practically in his face now. The anger in my veins pushing me forward.

“Oh my gosh L/n! Is that why you've always been so pissy towards me just because I've won all those things! When it’s not even my fault!” When he puts it like that, I look at my actions.

“Well, if you did-” I have to stop because the elevator stops abruptly, making me almost slam into Gojo, making him catch me.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure someone will come soon.” He tries to reassure me.

The small canvan of the elevator is now encased in a blue emergency light barely letting us each other. But I can’t even open my eyes, being terrified, if I did open them we would throw down the shaft. He notices my fear and grabs my hand.

“Hey Y/n we’re going to be okay.” With those words, I opened my eyes and did something that surprised both of us. I kiss him. I don’t know compled me do so the fear coursing through my body or maybe it was years of pent up sexual frustotion in one kiss. As soon as I realized I did I let go.

“Gojo, I’m so sorry. I-” I didn't get to finish before he pulled me right back and slammed his lips on mine. Our lips had found a groove that we didn't know we were missing. This second kiss was desperate, messy, unrealting as he lead me to hit the back mirror. Our hands clawing at each other’s bodies. When we finally let go in the blue hue I could see his lips puffy and red and mine were left with a sweet sting. In that moment, his hands go around my waist and his lips go for my neck this time.

“I've always wanted to do this with you,” he whispers in my ear, making shivers go down my spine.

BELOW

“Oh you little-” I’m shut up by him biting down on my neck. “Fuck Gojo!” I moaned out.

“That’s what I like to hear~” He purred out. Gojo licks over my hickie and makes a mess, he suckles at my neck. His tongue licks all over the sore spot. He keeps on nipping and tugging on the spot making my body junt out looking for some more relief. He lets go and my neck is left feeling the cold, I then feel his bulge through his pants on my knee. I pull him by the tie.

“Does pleasuring women turn you on, Gojo?” I tell him as I nip and lick his ear shell. He nods his head. “Then let me show you my appreciation.” I pull at his ear again and get down on my knees. I slowly pull down his pants zipper. 

“You don’t have to Y/n.” He breathed out.

“But I want to Gojo.” I can see through his briefs that his cock was already leaking pre cum. And his bulge was taking up a lot of space of the outline. I reach up and pull his briefs down his cock pop’s up. It is the biggest I have ever seen, it’s about seven inches and his head is red and puffy, ready to be squeezed. I lick my hand and start pumping it. As I touch it, it instantly gets harder.

“You're so big Gojo don’t know how I’m going to fit this.” At that I put my mouth around it. 

“Ahh shit Y/n you feel so good.” he throw his hand to the wall to steady himself. His cock pusles around my tongue. My tongue makes rings around it. I can feel veins and his taste is delicious, it was sweet and salty. Like a chocolate crossient that would melt on your tongue. I start to deep throat and he can barely stand it. It doesn’t fully fit in my mouth so I have to use my hand to ring the rest. He then grabs my hair and starts to fuck in. He starts to go faster and faster. “I’m going to cum!” He let’s go. His cock flops out. “That was… fucking amazing Y/n.” That sent confidene all through my body.

“Thank you now are you going to fuck me with that monster or not.” He smirks and lifts me up my legs wrap his waist. 

“Of course I will I got to fuck the attiude out of you don’t I?” There’s the cocky asshole I like. HE goes to kiss me again. Our teeth mashing together. His hand travels down under my pencil skirt and rips my fishnet tights at my crotch. I am soaked.

“All this is for me huh?” He slid my panties to the side and line’s uo his cock. “I’m going to go in okay?” I nod and he steadily sinks in. Just at that I felt so full. “You feel so tight, Y/n so good let me know when I can move in.” I barely hear anything because I am so distracted by this feeling.

“You can move kay.” I get out somehow and he starts slowly thrusting up. I put my arms around his neck. His cock get’s comfortablpe and thicker. His hip’s mett mine with each thrust. His balls slapping against my pussy. It goes in circles, drawing more and more out of me. 

“How is it, Sweetness?” 

“So good toru~” I moan out. He then add’s a finger to my clit to really drive it home. “FUck!” My wetness is now gushing like a waterfall.

“That’s my girl almost there right?” 

“Yes!” He pumps a couple more time’s and my pussy squzze’s and we an sexual explosion we cum together. I guess Gojo Satoru isn’t too bad.

I also have another Gojo smut fic if you like! Valentine's Day

[garyusama]

𑁤 if the reader were older than satoru ⸝⸝

you were sitting at your dressing table, getting ready for bed, but before that you applied various cosmetics to your face: starting from facial serums, ending with pleasantly smelling creams that attracted your husband’s attention.

he was going to kiss you, but you stopped him, “no, dear, only after a few minutes” satoru clicked his tongue and leaned on the table, “seriously? is this girl stuff not allowing me to touch you?” you nodded, but he moved closer to you, making a surprised face.

“what happened?” you furrowed your brows, but he pressed his palm to his mouth, “sweetheart, this is going to sound terrible” gojo took your hands in his, “you have a wrinkle on your face,” you jumped up, looking at yourself in the mirror, “where did you see that? where?”

he tries not to laugh as he watches you desperately try to find something that isn't on your face at all. you turn around, realizing that he was just making fun of you, “do you wish to be killed by me?” you were about to hit him, but he caught your hand in time, “take it easy!” you sat down on a chair and he kissed you tenderly.

“you’re insufferable!”

“that was your choice, young lady.”

[songsofadelaide]

"And now I'm running with my dress unbuttoned, screaming 'But Daddy I love him!'. I'm having his baby— No, I'm not, but you should see your faces. I'm telling him to floor it through the fences... No, I'm not coming to my senses. I know he's crazy but he's the one I want."

Continuation of this piece.

Growing up with a supermodel mother meant it was only a matter of time before he was thrust into the spotlight as well. Satoru knew that much from the moment he was able to think for himself. He wasn't the daughter his mother pined for, but she loved him so, so much because he was just as pretty as she always hoped for. She only stopped working a short while after giving birth before launching herself head-on to more and more modelling gigs until her previous natural rhythm returned.

And when his mother started bringing him along to her stints like a little pet puppy to be fawned over, he learned to weaponize his pretty blue eyes so similar to hers and won the hearts of the photography crew— all just by playfully batting his feathery lashes at them.

Sometimes he regrets playing into his mother's hands like that, but like any other kid who loved seeing their mother happy, he easily agreed to every simple gig she booked for him. It started small at first— posing with her for magazine photoshoots until they became full-blown endorsements for kids' milk, toys, children's clothes... and eventually, the runway, too. Articles have been written about him even before he had a better grasp at reading, hailing him as the son of modelling royalty.

Sometimes he dreamed of a more normal life for himself. A life where his mother retired from modelling early and married into a quiet family. Her best friend did just that exactly and was completely happy with her life at present...

But no, his mother married into a wealthy family of old money and thought it was only fitting since she was a well-sought-after treasure. How narcissistic, Satoru can't help but think to himself at times. For someone whose only redeeming factor was her physical appearance— which declined in age— his mother was incredibly self-absorbed. Sometimes he wonders if he will grow up to be just like her.

He hopes not.

Because there were nights he and his mother were simply normal people, not supermodels on top of the world. She was just his mother, not supermodel Arisu Gojo. On those nights, his mother was allowed a bit more sweet wine than what was usually allowed. On those nights, he was just a kid playing house with the child of his mother's best friend in the entire world. On those nights, there was you, his only friend outside the modelling world and entertainment industry, and you were his favorite, too, just like how his mother adored yours.

Oh, Satoru adored you, all right. He realized as he grew older that he was incredibly similar to his mother in terms of being spoiled rotten. He grew into his image as the nation's sweetheart, an affable public figure who charmed everyone he encountered, but reared a whole other person whenever his family had its regular wine and dines with yours. He would march into your room like it was the most natural thing and demand you drop whatever it was you were doing because Satoru the star was in the house(!).

And surprisingly, you agreed with everything he said because you liked him just as much. Just as you were his favorite friend, he was yours.

You somewhat felt sorry for him since he didn't have the conventional childhood like you did, but seeing him having the time of his life on print ads and TV commercials, you thought he had fun on his own terms, too. At school, you would hear your female classmates gush at how perfect the nation's sweetheart was, and it instilled in you a sick sense of twisted pride at knowing him personally— who he was behind the glamorous scenes— and how terribly spoiled he was by your family.

When your classmates at school once asked what you thought about him, you played it cool by saying, "He's okay, I guess..." Only for that "okay" guy to be in your bedroom that very night asking for head pats because "the photoshoots are turning into a real drag!".

Your classmates didn't have to know the whole thing.

As you two grew older, the time you spent together grew less and less. Words even fewer. Until it all came to a head when you turned sixteen and Satoru pushed you away so hard that you held back tears. He didn't know what came over him back then, but he stopped coming over to your room afterwards. You figured he had already outgrown the setup. You two were teenagers now, for pity's sake. You would've accepted that as fact if he spoke about it, but his vanishing act left you perplexed.

Only he didn't vanish. He was everywhere— on the cover of popular teen magazines, that soda commercial on TV, fronting promotional material for high-end clothing and expensive mobile phones on social media... He's the son of modelling royalty, after all. For the last three years, he accepted project after project after project and still went on those shared family dinners like nothing happened between you two.

But there was something. He knew his old man meant well when he spoke about propriety between the two of you, but he didn't just like you as a friend at this point. Those dinners weren't complete for him without seeing your face, regardless of whether or not you hated him for leaving you so puzzled. So when you stopped showing up or heading down later than usual, he knew he had to do something.

"...ask Toru to call her downstairs! I haven't seen that girl for quite some time now! Has she been..."

"...with university lately. There's this boy, too. Her classmate, I think..."

The older women's conversation faded in his head the moment your mother mentioned a boy— a classmate— and just how close the two of you have grown while you were in university. Good grief. He couldn't handle it. He couldn't.

You were supposed to be his.

He made his way to your room upstairs, ready to speak about how the last three years were torment— About how his father's bullshit called him out because it was clear to the old man that his son looked at his friend differently now—

Then he heard them. The faintest of whimpers from your bedroom. And if he was right in his head, his name left your lips, too.

He wasn't going to let go of this.

You opened your bedroom door with your face still flushed and your clothes all rumpled, and you nearly shut him out in panic if he didn't wedge his foot in your door. "Wait a moment. I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

He stepped in, only because you allowed him to, and the sound of your door locking behind you was muted as you busily smoothed out your clothes.

"What do you want to talk about, Satoru?"

Ouch. You used to call him Toru with the sweetest voice. The way you said his name now made his heart clench uncomfortably, almost like it physically hurt him.

"I missed you."

???

"The hell are you saying? After... after that... Are you serious right now? You ignored me for the last three years and come back with that?" You raised your voice at him, but only enough for the two of you to hear. "You can't come back here and tell me you missed me because the last time you were here, you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me. Friends don't leave friends wondering... what the hell did I ever do to you?"

"For the record, I don't see you as a friend," he stated point-blank, holding your gaze with the intensity of a lightning bolt that struck a pole of electricity, setting everything around it on fire. "I mean... You always were, but I think I've made it clear lots of times that I see you as more."

More than a friend? Were you hearing him right? Satoru— Ridiculously handsome, gorgeous, stunning— the nation's sweetheart and every girl's object of affection— saw you as more than a friend?

Here he was standing before you, six feet of good-looking, silvery hair and feather-like lashes, fumbling for words and grasping for an apology to give that's far too late, but maybe it arrived just on time for you. You never hated him, anyway. How could you?

When you yearned for him just as much.

"I'm sorry. I was so scared that it would be the last, so I just... I don't know. My reasons are shit. But that was my mistake, especially when you started pulling away from me. I—"

"If you're really sorry..." You said as you took a bold step toward him, obviously catching him off guard as you closed the distance between you. "Then prove it."

You're going to take what's yours. Without so much of an effort, too, by the way he willingly opened his arms to receive you the moment you walked right in.

Needless to say, Satoru breaks the internet by posting a sweet photo with his non-showbiz girlfriend.

His fans lose their shit the moment it was posted, everyone trying to verify its veracity and authenticity. His agency and PR team wrestled to regain control of his favorite social media account, where he's posted photo after photo with you, one of which was captioned, "Since '06.". The internet sleuths attempt to trough through the mystery of your identity and where the hell you came from after all these years. Articles were written about your relationship, the speculations about your identity ranging from realistic to outright stupid.

Analysis videos were discussing his behavior around his fellow models, which started circulating on the internet, detailed how he always kept an acceptable and respectful distance from them. They all concluded that it was because of his unknown girlfriend.

Your university classmates were equally baffled that your unassuming person had that kind of relationship with the nation's sweetheart, but that was all. You were immune to the occasional murmured assumption about who you were and didn't really care what they thought. Many of them just wanted to get their degree and get things done and you agreed with that, too.

For Satoru, the cherry on top was his mother posting on her social media account, doubling down on his decision to publicize his relationship, which she excitedly and readily accepted because she loved you as her own, too. She posted an old photograph featuring her holding her then three-year-old son peering into the crib of a baby girl— and in that photograph was a face familiar to many of his mother's fans.

Your mother had a pretty good following in her youth, too, but when she chose the quiet life, she left all of it behind— and when you asked her about it, she said she did what she wanted and she wouldn't change a thing— imploring you to do the same thing, too.

"Oh, so you think the world is a much better place with me in it?" Satoru asked you teasingly, head on your lap as he absentmindedly scrolled through his social media.

"I think you should shut up," you retorted, tugging at his hair ever so slightly. "Your fans still haven't forgiven you, you know."

"The real ones will know that you make me happy. Let the fake ones can keep on barking," he shrugged at your statement. "And the real ones know by now that you were always meant to be in my world."

"Because Aunt Arisu begged my mother to give you a playmate," you chuckled at his statement. "So much for playmates."

"What? Isn't this better?"

You smiled to yourself, humming as you ran your fingers through his hair, like time was never lost to you two.

Yes. Yes, it is.

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

last talk

Synopsis - their last messages before they died. They had promised you didn't they?

Warning ⚠️ - spoilers of Shibuya incident and manga , mentions of death , heavy Angst, little comfort, no fluff. (This made me cry brrr)

Others

Gojo Satoru

Nanami Kento

Geto suguru

[smystermy]

heartbeat star

Heartbeat star (noun): A type of variable binary star system with eccentric orbits, where tidal forces between the stars induce periodic variations in their luminosity. The term "heartbeat" is derived from the resemblance of the system’s light curve to the waveform of a cardiac cycle (heartbeat) as observed on an electrocardiogram.

pairing: gojo satoru x you.

tags: set in the jjk universe, but with a canon-divergent storyline (somebody lives/not everyone dies); former teacher x former student; older man x younger woman (gojo is 6 to 7 years older than you); first love; 'she falls first' x 'he falls hard'; heavy unrequited pining from you for the longest time possible; eventual romance; fluff and angst; hurt and comfort; eventual smut (happens only after they're both adults); eventual happily ever after; this is a set of interconnected oneshots, told non-linearly.

warnings: the reader is referred to with she/her pronouns. the mc falls for gojo while she’s still a student at jujutsu high, but nothing romantic happens at that time. it’s only when she’s in her early to mid-20s, and gojo is in his late 20s to early 30s, that he begins to return her feelings.

notes: the header image is "Starry Night Over the Rhône" by Vincent van Gogh. the dividers are by @/adornedwithlight. jujutsu kaisen is not mine. please comment on this post, or send me an ask, to be added to the taglist!! 🥰🥰

◈ of all flowers: you

general masterlist || gojo satoru masterlist