#Obnoxious first year Gojo satoru | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chuluoyi · 3 months ago

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✎ all of me

- gojo satoru x reader

you understand that some things in marriage just needs compromise. and he soon understands too, when you're at your most vulnerable and he fails to be by your side when you need him the most

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship (you're married & have a son!) argument, feral gojo, mentions of injury & blood, fluff

note: if it isn't obvious by now i'm in the mood of angst-hurt/comfort this week HEHE :)) this is longer than the usual love entry, so i hope you'll enjoy it!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Bantering with your husband is not uncommon―in fact, it happens on daily basis.

"Satoru― I'm talking to you!"

But having serious arguments with him is another matter entirely.

Your fists tightening at your sides, facing his unamused expression. How insufferable is he? You told him that everyday, but right now, he's truly surpassed previous levels of infuriating behavior.

"And I can hear you, sweetheart," he retorted, casting a glance your way. The term of endearment he used for you sounding almost like a sneer to your ears and you felt offended.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously," you griped, trying to calm your emotions, still balling your hands. "Someone is following our son on his way back from school―how can you be this... flippant?!"

Numerous photograph of your son exiting the school building from different angles had arrived in your mailbox, and if it wasn't a creepy warning from those who placed a target on his back, then you didn't know what it was.

Satoru let out an exasperated grunt. "I'm telling you, I'll pick him up for the rest of the week. No one will lay a hand on him."

You gritted your teeth. "And I'm telling you, they're trying to make you do just that. Even morons know not to mess with you― they're leaving hints, and you're taking the bait!"

Contrary to what you believed, Satoru felt just as worried as you upon knowing that someone might have marked his precious son, who was now six years old and had recently started attending preschool.

But this is where your approaches differ. You are always the cautious one, overanalyzing each detail, while he leans towards being impulsive, often resorting to brute force.

"Who do you think can stand a chance against me?" Satoru challenged with a real sneer this time. "Remember my words, wife, no one is going to hurt me, you or our baby. I'll end them where they stand."

"That's not the point!" you threw your hands in the air, irate. "Satoru, they're going to take advantage of―"

"Look, I don't want to argue with you." Satoru's gaze was hard on you, his tone clipped, and it made you stiffen. "His safety comes first— and you, of all people, should know I'd never let anything happen to him. You need to quit nitpicking and have a little faith in me."

"I know you are more than capable, but you are not―!"

And then he said it, and his words piercing through you like a knife―

"Don't compare me to you," your husband remarked a little too coldly. "I can do things you can't. Just rest your pretty head, I'll take care of the rest."

Nevermind that he blatantly dismissed your skills as a jujutsu sorcerer, nevermind that he totally didn't listen to you at all―he just went and made himself look like some sort unparalleled god, forgetting how much his hubris could actually take him.

And all these thoughts only made you angrier.

"So be it then." You tried desperately to hold yourself from shaking because you'd be damned if you showed it to him. "A word of advice, Satoru: beware of your arrogance."

With those words, you spun around, marching off toward your son's room, because no way in hell was you going to sleep with that obnoxious prick tonight.

But when you caught the sight of your baby scuttling away from the gap in the door, a fragment of your heart crumbled. Oh. He has seen it all.

In Gojo Satoru's mind, he is made of two things: a powerful jujutsu sorcerer and a family man.

With his immense strength, comes a certain responsibility. And with that responsibility, certain habits have formed. If you just took a few seconds to breathe and looked back throughout the past decade he'd spent with you, you'd know that in fact―

It was also his way to shield you. Satoru stands by the principle that you and his little boy must be protected at all cost, and he most certainly would pull all stops to do just that.

But frankly, he couldn't deny that he felt insulted by how defiant you were. Did you really think he would let anyone ever touch your―his―son? He wouldn't, they'd meet his wrath first and you should've known that.

Still, something akin to guilt nudged at his conscience as he lay alone in your shared bed that night. It felt strange not having you cuddling him. He felt empty.

. . .

None of your shampoo-scented pillow, none of your nightdresses, all of it replaced by a single photo hanging in the wall and the urn of ashes—

Abruptly, he jerked his eyes open, shaken from the most dreadful nightmare he had experienced—

Of you no longer by his side.

“Mama.” Your little boy looked up to you with his doe-blue eyes in the next day, his hand gripping yours. “I’ll be fine.”

You were accompanying him to the preschool. While Satoru had requested Ichiji to drive him, you insisted on tagging along to keep a watchful eye as well. You'd leave your husband to pick him up later just as he wanted.

“Huh?” you turned to him, tilting your head.

“I'll stick by Uncle Ichiji's side the entire time,” he replied in a murmur. “And papa will be picking me up too later. If there are bad guys, they'll get him first.”

You bit your lip, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. Your boy witnessed your outburst last night and hadn't inquired about it until now, and even then, he was trying to reassure you.

“So… don’t fight.” His round, cerulean eyes then darted towards you, blinking hesitantly, causing you to catch your breath.

He looks so much like Satoru. At six years old, he was the spitting image of him, except his personality—he took after you in that area. It was as if your son was a softer, more innocent version of him. And your heart twisted, remembering your argument last night.

Don't compare me to you.

With a sigh, you bent down to be eye-level with him and managed a smile, holding both of his little hands. “I’m sorry… it was just misunderstanding last night, okay? Don’t worry.”

“…really?”

“Really. Mama and papa were just tired,” you tried to reason, a thin smile on your face. "It's going to be okay, just like you said, yeah? Papa will beat the bad guys out there."

“Will he pull through...? If they bring a knife, and he's just there laughing, they can cut him.”

A giggle escaped your lips at your baby's innocent wonderings, easing the ache in your heart as you recalled how Satoru humored him in so many ways.

You gently poked your son in the cheek. "Nah, do you remember what he always goes on about?"

He puffed up his cheeks in response, his expression turning sour as if combing through memories of hundreds of shenanigans Satoru had instigated to recall his words. You let out a hearty chuckle, finding him so adorable.

"He's strong, he's going to win. He always does."

"Oh. Mmm." Your son scrunched up his nose cutely, before looking away and squeezing your hand. A sincerer smile bloomed in your lips, heart melting at the sight of your growing munchkin.

You will protect him. And maybe you could patch things up with Satoru later that night. Maybe yesterday you were just too paranoid.

That was the plan... at least until your son suddenly screamed—someone wrenching him from your grasp. Without a second thought, you reacted, flipping the attacker away from you and him.

. . . and that was the beginning of how everything started to unravel so terribly that day.

"Gojo-san...! There's been an incident!"

He got that call right after he finished some things with Yaga. Satoru teleported to the preschool right away, only to be greeted by a scene of utter chaos.

Several teachers stood outside the building, and police officers were present at the scene. It was all a blur of cursed energy until his eyes caught sight of—

His little boy, red-faced and obviously in fear, was clinging to Ichiji, who was frantically making calls. Some teachers gathered around him were seemingly trying to coax him to speak.

He didn't waste a second to dash towards him, tearing through the crowd.

"Are you okay? Hey, buddy, what happened?" Satoru pulled him away from Ichiji and turned him over, crouching to his level to check for any signs of injury or harm.

And upon seeing him actually here, his son's eyes immediately welled up with tears, and Satoru felt a chill run through his veins as he broke into sobs, which quickly turned into heart-wrenching wails.

"Mama—! F-find mama—!" the little boy choked out through his tears, clutching onto his shirt tightly and crumbling in his embrace, thoroughly inconsolable.

Satoru's sharp gaze quickly swept over the scene, seeking any clues, while he tightened his hold over him. It was then he noticed traces of your cursed energy mingled with blood.

They hurt you.

"Hey, kiddo—listen to me, it's going to be alright, yeah?" Satoru said, gently pulling away to wipe away his tears, holding the boy's face tenderly in his hands. "Go with Ichiji for now, okay? I'm going to bring mama back, I promise."

He didn't need to be told twice. Your son is always obedient when it matters the most. He gave him a small nod, still shaking with tears.

"Don't worry," he flashed a reassuring smile and ruffled his hair. "I'm the strongest, remember? I'll get her back," he vowed once again. "She'll be fine. Wait for me until then, yeah?"

Ichiji was ready to leave as he had called for those in headquarters as backup in case anything were to happen again. Trusting him to keep his son safe, Satoru took off as soon as he could no longer see the sight of his son's tear-streaked face trying to watch him as the car pulled away.

"I won't repeat myself— where is my wife?"

Satoru wasn't playing this time. He skipped past taunts and just plain threats. These little fries, he thought.

The man he held by the throat was in a lot of distress. "Hyaaa! It's him! Please, please, let me go! I'm acting under orders!"

He then flung him across the wall— might have added more cursed energy than necessary.

At the moment, his entire focus was on trying to locate you. He couldn't let his mind wander to anything else; in fact, he didn't permit himself to.

It didn't take him long to piece together the general location of where you were through the residual of your cursed energy. They stationed several hooligans in this abandoned warehouse to stall him, but he got rid of them quickly and he could sense that you were close by.

"It's Gojo Satoru!"

"Run! Ruuuun!"

What a pain. They picked the wrong person to mess with, and Satoru's lips curled into a manic grin as he opened his palm, pulling them in—

"Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue."

Chaos erupted as the building collapsed around him. He hoped you would realize he was here and manage to avoid getting caught in the wreckage. He was sure you'd know though.

And true to his thoughts, soon he found you— blasting your attacker away with a powerful kick.

Satoru thought that you were a sight to behold, really. And he was about to call out to you when he felt it.

It happened almost in an instant. The way his heart dropped to his stomach, and how his body reacted, barely whispering the incantation for Red as he shot it at something lurking behind you—

At that moment, the only thing you were aware of was the foul stench of a curse. Time seemed to stop before the overwhelming force of Red expelled it away from you.

But before then, you experienced a searing, white-hot pain that scorched through your flesh and pierced your abdomen—

"Y/N―fuck―!" The voice that came from Satoru's throat was raw and laden with panic.

He pulled you against him protectively as you collapsed, blinded by pain. He immediately felt warmth spreading across his lower body—your blood was rapidly drenching his shirt, and he felt a shiver down his spine.

You held onto him tightly while suppressing your scream, feeling every bit of your strength drain away along with the dark crimson blood that poured out of you.

"―toru―" you managed to croak amidst the scalding pain, curling and whimpering in his hold.

"Hey― sweetheart, please―" his voice rang in your ears, as he pressed down on your wound. His hands were shaking, and you clawed at him and groaned in agony. "I-I'm taking you back now― You're going to be alright, yeah?"

The wound was beyond anything you had experienced before, causing you to cry out and gasp for air. It was almost as if something fried your insides. It was hard to stay conscious.

"I've got you now. You're going to be okay." His voice was coarse, as he hurriedly carried you out. And he tried not to let the full-blown panic take over him when your body went limp in his arms, your breaths slowing, head lolling in his chest.

"You're going to be alright! You hear me, sweetheart? You're going to make it. Our baby― he's waiting for you. I promise you, you're going to be fine―"

Perhaps he was trying to tell that to himself, because despite the excruciating pain, a wave of reassurance washed over you.

You were in the arms of the strongest sorcerer alive, what more could you possibly afraid of?

A special grade curse. They had actually unleashed a potent curse and likely aimed at him as their final card—until it veered off course and struck you, leaving a searing gash across your abdomen.

Satoru felt numb as he sat in the waiting room in his bloodied uniform. You got hurt so terribly right in front of his eyes, and all he could feel was this profound void that seemed to bore through him and pierced his soul.

He was supposed to protect you. He said it to your face that nothing and no one would touch your son, and it was in his wedding vows that he'd protect you with his life too.

And yet what happened?

If only he was faster. If only he was able to pull you to him and protect you with his infinity—none of this shit would have happened.

Seeing your face twisted in agony and smeared with blood made him feel sick to his stomach. Inside that OR, you hovered on the brink of life and death, and he was here, unable to do anything.

Satoru rested his head against the wall, feeling a sharp pain surge through his chest. He remembered waking up to your face every morning, the way your touches felt, and how you had brightened his world for the past decade. If he lost you now... he wouldn't survive it. He would wreck anything, everything—

"Papa!" and came his voice of reason. Satoru immediately discarded his bloodstained jacket by instinct, throwing it away before his boy could see it, with Ichiji and Megumi closely trailing behind.

His son crashed himself into him and threw his little arms around his torso, crying—and in that very second, the thump of his heart sounded louder in his ears. Somehow it felt like a knife that twisted his insides.

"Hey, kiddo." Satoru repositioned him so that he would sit on his lap and hugged him, patting him in the back. "There, there... it's alright, yeah? Mama is inside, she'll get better soon."

Your little boy pulled away and wiped his eyes, and Satoru chuckled as he helped him blow his nose. His child was incredibly adorable, and his actions mirrored yours to such an extent that it made Satoru's heart soften.

"Mama g-got hurt trying to... tell me to g-go..." the boy suddenly said amidst his quieter sniffles. "And... she s-said... papa— i-is strong and g-going to win..."

You believe in him. Ignoring the ache in his chest, only able to reply him with a "Yeah..."

Not long after, Shoko emerged from the operating room and informed him that the surgery had been successful, though you would likely need to have a one-week stay in the hospital for observation. He intended to move you to the VIP suite and stay the night there, but then he remembered his son, who was holding his hand.

Satoru crouched down and patted him in the head, fixing him a smile. "See? Mama is okay, but she needs to sleep here to get even better. Now you go home first with big brother Megumi, yeah?"

Your son adored Megumi and often begged you to let him stay over at his place, but this time he looked hesitant, fiddling with his little fingers. "Really? Mama will be home... soon?"

"Mm-hmm, the more she sleeps here, the faster she'll go back home, alright?"

And with that, his baby nodded and Satoru turned to Megumi with a nod. "Thank you for this, Megumi."

The boy whose life he had once saved on some sort of a whim, now grown up and shared the same concern he had for you, Fushiguro Megumi had never before witnessed his benefactor expressing such sincere gratitude for anything before.

When you came to, your body felt as heavy as lead.

The discomfort in your abdomen made you flinch, and you almost let out a groan until you turned to your side and saw him.

Satoru was asleep while sitting in the sofa next to your bed, dark circles evident under his eyes. It might have been your imagination, but his cheeks appeared to be slightly red too.

You tried to recall what had happened to you when it came back—you urging your son to run away as you let yourself being taken away, almost escaping from that warehouse, the flash of excruciating pain, and Satoru's stricken voice.

So he must've been here since last night. Any remnants of your disagreement seemed to have vanished, seeing him there with you, barely covering himself with the blanket, with a frown still marking his forehead even in his sleep.

You wanted to reach out to him until the movement sent a sharp jab to your stomach and you cried out a bit.

In that split second, Satoru's eyes jerked open, and realizing you were awake, his gaze locked onto yours. "Y/N—" But your strained whimper and expression told him everything. "Does it hurt? I-I'll get Shoko, wait—"

And then he hit the call button. Throughout it all, he kept a firm grip on your hand for reassurance. A few minutes later, Shoko arrived and examined your wound, subsequently administering painkillers to alleviate your discomfort.

"It's going to leave a scar," she explained grimly, showing the mangled skin where the curse had made its mark on you, and seeing that, Satoru clenched his fists.

Shoko sighed, empathizing with her friend's frustration. "It's going to fade with time, don't worry. You did well, Gojo. You brought her here quickly. Had you been even slightly later, there could have been an irreversible damage to her organs."

But your husband remained quiet, unable to bring himself to look at you. And after she left, you tried to finally voice your question to him.

"O-our—"

"He's fine," Satoru immediately answered, squeezing your hand. "Our boy is fine. I'll tell Megumi to visit later—he's with him."

A sigh of relief came out of you. "Thank... goodness."

But his expression seemed to fall even further after hearing your response. Satoru settled himself on the seat next to you and lowered the rail on your bed, allowing you to be even closer to each other.

"Do you not feel any pain anymore?" he asked then, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He looked so sad, a stark contrast of how he usually was, and it bugged you.

"No... I feel fine now."

"Then, can I hug you?"

Of course you nodded without a second thought, and carefully, he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you close and resting his face on the crook of your neck.

You knew what it was. Satoru was still visibly shaken by what had happened to you, and he wasn't great at expressing himself, so he tried to find consolation through this physical closeness instead.

"I'm okay..." you patted his back, trying to convince him. "I'm alright now, yeah?" But to your surprise, suddenly his whole body started to shake. "Satoru...?"

“…’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he nuzzled you. “I shouldn't... have let you get this hurt...”

It always amazes you how Satoru always gets this distressed whenever you sustain any injury. You had seen him cry precisely two times now—once after you gave birth to your son and experienced severe bleeding, and now.

"It's not your fault..." you whispered in response. "You... have protected me well."

He held you tighter, his tone faltering. "I didn't."

"You have..." you stroked his hair, trying to convince him. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Hearing you say that made Satoru's chest ache. The thought of something like this happening to you was unimaginable, and now that it had, he couldn't come to terms with seeing you hurt right in front of him.

"Don't—" he choked on his voice, his breath trembled against your neck. "Don't ever put yourself in danger again. If something happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself..."

You couldn't make that promise. Despite the pleading in his voice, you knew deep down that your son's life—and his—meant more, and given the chance, you would obviously save theirs for yours.

“Satoru... I love you, you know that, right?”

So you simply embraced him close, hoping that in this life, you would live long enough that he would never have to see you like this again.

Epilogue

"Papa, how do I become stronger?"

Satoru blinked when his son asked him that so innocently and curiously, taken aback as he led him to your private room later that afternoon. "Oh? What brought this on?"

His first and only son, a perfect miniature of himself, pursed his lips. "I don't want Mama to get hurt again..."

Satoru's heart warmed at his baby’s sincere words, and despite himself, he chuckled.

"What's funny?" his son leveled a glare at him. "I'm being serious."

"Well, aren't you such a good boy? Don't worry, kiddo, I'll teach you my ways~"

"What ways?"

"Well, no need to rush, pumpkin. First of all, you will have to harness your skills and then you have to be more like me—"

"Do I have to be like you…? Is there no other way?"

"—? What's wrong with being more like me?"

"Everything...?"

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tonycries · 7 months ago

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Unhoneymooners!? - G.S.

Synopsis. The universe was surely playing a joke on you. Here you were, trapped on a luxury getaway with your - dangerously handsome, extremely obnoxious - ex. Either you were going to kill each other or end up pinned beneath him, split apart on his cóck. You just didn’t know what would come first.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, exes to lovers, unprotected, argument as foreplay, slight enemies to lovers, more like annoyances actually, cunnilingus, oral (male + female), spitting, creampié, one bed trope, rough, Satoru is still EXTREMELY down bad for you, and unfairly hot, forced proximity, cúmplay, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 8.5k

A/N. It’s impossible to not write Satoru without bullying him at least a little bit.

You broke up with Gojo Satoru exactly 5 months, 2 weeks, and 16 hours ago - not that you were keeping count, of course.

So why was he outside of your resort room blasting “Kill Bill” by SZA like he’s auditioning for the world’s most dramatic comeback tour? On what should’ve marked your fourth anniversary, no less.

Well, given you were the one to lock him out, but still - the stubborn bastard could at least have some decorum.

With an exasperated sigh, you throw yourself onto the king-sized bed of your honeymoon suite, trying to will away that annoying, grating voice - not SZA, no, more so Satoru singing along at the top of his lungs to the chorus.

How did you even get here? And with Satoru of all people - your Satoru. Or at least he was this time a little over a year ago.

You first met Satoru when you were in university, back when he wore those pretentious circled sunglasses and waltzed around those halls like he owned the place. And after a single literature assignment together, he wasn’t just your (self-proclaimed) best friend; he was the reluctantly favorite thorn in your side.

Like the rest of him, Satoru’s introduction into your love-life was anything but subtle. It wasn’t like he strolled in, gave a polite nod, and blended into the background. Oh no, he bulldozed his way in and dragged you to dance with him on the tables of some dingy frat party in what you could only assume was some joke from the universe at your expense.

And damn him, you think bitterly, you couldn't resist him that night. Spinning you into a dramatic dip, silver chain brushing your face as his half-lidded eyes bored into yours. You couldn’t not kiss him after the way his hands were just searing into your skin.

God, you’ve never been able to listen to “Gasolina” the same way ever since.

Satoru was in love as he was in the rest of life - a force of nature, and it was too easy to find yourself caught up in him.

That night at the frat party was just the beginning. From then on was a rollercoaster of everything from heated debates over the best flavor of ramen to impromptu road trips where you’d end up under a carpet of stars. Wrapped in each other’s arms and sharing whispered secrets for an unpromised future - oftentimes where Satoru would crack a joke or two about running away to Tokyo with him. To which you’d laugh it off with a “Yeah yeah, I’d leave everything I’ve known behind in a heartbeat for your dumbass, Toru.”

You just didn’t think that it would be the downfall to your relationship. All the empty promises.

Because as those heavenly days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, eventually two years had gone by. The whirlwind romance settled into a comfortable rhythm, but with it came the looming promise of graduation and Satoru moving to work under his family company in Tokyo.

Under pressure, it wasn’t long before the cracks began to show, the arguments more frequent, and the silences more deafening. And as your relationship slowly turned into nothing more than a husk of what it used to be - so did the both of you.

Long story short, graduation was a bittersweet goodbye - and you think both of you knew long before it was actually over. Neither of you attended the afterparty - with Satoru on a flight straight to Tokyo and you at home to stuff your face with chocolate. Hey, at least you could blame your tears on finally leaving university, right?

You had meticulously erased his name from your phone, your social media, and even your dreams - well, almost, the bastard still came around to bother you occasionally. It was messy, painful, and final.

But “final” really didn’t explain your current predicament. Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned about Satoru is that he’s always there - whether you liked it or not. He was there when you needed a partner for that literature assignment, and he was there to turn your world upside down at that dingy frat party.

Hell, he was even there to help you stubbornly chug mountains of ice cream and win that raffle for this five day-long getaway trip to the Maldives. Though, you think he might’ve chugged the ice cream without the promise of a vacation anyway.

But, when ultimately those shiny tickets came in the mail - Satoru wasn’t there. Oh well, it might’ve been a couple’s trip - but you could have a hot girl summer, right? Maybe you could even snag a hottie by the end. You’d almost forgotten that he’d be getting his copy of the tickets as well.

Yet, unfortunately - as the beginning notes of P!nk’s “So What” bursts through the heavy wooden door - you were inevitably reminded of the fact that he was here. Right now. Goading you into coming outside.

You find yourself groaning inwardly (and outwardly) because of course, why wouldn’t he come back even more obnoxious than before? You haven’t seen him in ages, yet here he is, crashing back into your life with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Or - you furrow your brows at his purposefully off-key singing carrying over the sounds of the waves outside - with the subtlety of a manchild with a JBL and a premium account on Spotify.

Rubbing your temples in frustration, you contemplate how much longer of this it would take before you’re both kicked out of this resort. And after you ate so many ice creams to win this getaway trip? No chance.

With a resigned sigh, you rise from the bed, smoothing out the bathing suit you’d just put on before the devil incarnate showed up knocking at your door. Something hot and prickly pools in your stomach as you approach it, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the sheer absurdity of the situation. So like Satoru.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you shakily reach for the handle. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal actually.

…

What’s the worst that can happen?

Slam!

The door swings open, and there in all his smug glory stands a very shirtless Satoru. Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru, the same asshole you’ve blocked on even Gmail.

Except, you’re momentarily struck by how high you have to raise your eyes to meet his. Are growth spurts even a thing anymore? You didn’t have a chance to take a good look last time before slamming the door shut at the first flash of white hair and a smug grin.

But right now, traitorously, your gaze catches on just how broad his shoulders look and…since when was he so chiseled? Damn you, Tokyo - you were doing him too good.

His hair is slightly longer too, curtaining those slightly more mature features, stopping just above that ever-immature grin. One which moves as he hums, “Well, happy fourth anniversary to me, If I knew this came with the suite then I’d have swam here myself.”

You scoff, suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious as he wiggles his brows, striking blue eyes sweeping your figure from head to toe. “I’d prefer if you swam back. What are you doing?”

“Why, just showing up to our room on our lil’ honeymoon, sweetheart.” Satoru sing-songs, leaning against the doorframe to fully prevent you from slamming the door in his (admittedly) pretty face again. “And before you try to break my nose with that door again, I won that ticket here fair and square, y’know. I ate just as much ice cream as you did for it.”

“You ate most of those before you knew about the getaway raffle.” you sigh over his nonchalant shrug, pinching your nose, “And stop calling it our honeymoon, I dumped you five months ago.”

“Well aren’t you just the gift that keeps on giving. Keeping count?”

“No. Don’t be a pest.”

“Always thought you had a thing for pests. After all, you did date me.” As Satoru grins impossibly wider, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He winks, “And if I’m a pest then you’re an itch that just won’t go away.”

“At least I’m not the itch that shows up uninvited to someone’s honeymoon suite.” you hiss. And with that you start shutting the door ever-so-slowly, delighting in the panic that overtakes Satoru’s features as he reaches out frantically.

“Hey!” he sputters, “I didn’t know you’d be here! And besides this ‘pest’ forgot his slippers all the way in Tokyo and can’t stand on flaming-hot boardwalks for too long so let me in.”

And sure enough, you glance down to see that Satoru isn’t wearing any slippers on the scorching boardwalk. The realization almost brings a smirk to your lips. This idiot.

“Wow.”

“‘Wow’ at my feet or-”

“I should leave you here to rot just for your pure idiocy.” you deadpan, eyes locked on the way he’s burning his soles off yet still has the audacity to flash you a cocky smile.

“But you won’t.” he hums.

A beat passes. One. Two. And Satoru’s grin almost falters, before you finally relent - opening the door just a crack, cursing his entire bloodline under your breath. “You’re incorrigible” you mutter as he saunters inside victoriously, dragging his hefty luggage behind.

“Why change perfection, sweetheart~” he calls out, heading straight for the bedroom, only to let out a delighted “OooOOo” at the sight of the king-sized bed in the middle. The only bed. “How scandalous, maybe you’ll even fall in lov-”

“Don’t. I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a seashell.” you warn, holding up both keycards threateningly, “I get the bed, you take the couch.”

“But-”

“And I’ve got the keys, so slippers or not you’ll be back out on that boardwalk.”

A slight smile tugging at the corners of your lips at the way Satoru looked so dramatically crestfallen, you continue - just to be petty, “And no more ‘Kill Bill’ that’s on my angry ex playlist.”

With a heavy sigh he sulkily makes his way to the bathroom, calling out as he does, “Fine. But I’m showering first.”

As he disappears from sight you throw yourself onto your bed, basking in what little peace and quiet you’ll have because of your unwanted guest. This was going to be a-

“And I’m using all of your body lotions.”

“...”

“I will use one of your body lotions.”

Groaning, you sink into the plush mattress, just wishing it would swallow you whole and spare you from this torment. And this was only Day 1? This was going to be a very long five days.

---

The first night with Satoru, honestly, wasn’t too bad.

You don’t know what you expected exactly - maybe for him to pour hair dye in your shampoo or something. But he actually stuck to his word, slept on the couch after only a bit of taunting, and used only one of your body lotions. Your best-smelling, most expensive one, but one nonetheless.

Feeling slightly more optimistic, you spent most of the second day at the beach, meanwhile he stuck to lounging by the pool. Add in a bit of pretending you didn’t know him by the salad bar at dinner and that made for an almost-perfect hot girl summer.

Well, considering that you were rooming with your insufferable longtime ex - in a honeymoon suite of all places.

The only catch came that night, fully content at the burning soreness from being pushed around by the waves outside. You got ready to splay out on your bed, humming along to the tunes of your playlist and…Satoru’s lamenting?

“I swear my back feels like it’s been run over by a truck. Five of them, and a zoo.” he complains from behind you, dramatically draping himself over the couch - his impromptu bed.

“Good.”

“What if that was my last straw?”

“Even better.”

His exaggerated, disappointed whine is both embarrassing and almost-endearing as you roll your eyes, resisting the urge to suffocate him with a pillow. “Maybe call your chiropractor guy.”

Satoru shot you a pointed look, his expression a mixture of faux innocence and irritation, which you knew too well. “I wish but he’s trekking through the Himalayas. C’mon~ Don’t you think that lovely king-sized bed is too big for just one?”

“No, but the boardwalk sure is. Maybe you should try it out.” you monotone, getting ready to end this conversation once and for all.

But when has Satoru ever let you off easy? He sits up abruptly, a devious smile curling his lips. “Ohh, I get it.” he taunts, batting his long lashes mockingly, “You’re scared to sleep in the same bed with me.”

Huh?

“Out of all the idiotic-” you cut yourself off by whirling around to face his smug grin, “Why would I be scared to sleep in a bed with you. I’ve done that far too many times already.”

“Exactly,” he chuckles. “And all those times you could barely last an hour before without keeping your hands off of me. Scared you’ll end up pinned underneath me and stuffed full like old times, sweetheart?”

You narrow your eyes at him despite the heat burning your face. “The only thing I’m scared of is your icicle feet on my side.”

He laughs, a sound that’s equal parts irritating and endearing, and stands up from where he was slumped on the couch. Making his way slowly, but surely towards you, “Oh, c’mon. For old times’ sake, admit it, you miss me.”

"Yeah, missed the peace and quiet I don’t have because of your big mouth,” you scoff. Finding it hard to meet his twinkling gaze as he comes close enough that you’re toe to toe with him. Your cheeks burn at the proximity - hot enough to match the heat radiating off his body.

Satoru shakes his head, undeterred by your threats. And suddenly you get the overwhelming urge to throw him out the window and straight into the ocean. “You can deny it all you want, but you still have feelings for me.”

Your jaw clenches at his audacity. “You wish. I’d never.”

“Then prove it.”

Damn, he was good.

Which is probably how you found yourself lying in the same bed as Satoru, with a wall of all the pillows in the room erected between you two - and a few extra from room service just in case.

“Sweetheart, this is a king-sized bed. Is the fortress really necessary?”

You wrap your blankets tighter around yourself, trying to ignore the figure radiating warm right next to you. Muttering out a muffled little, “Yeah, so you can keep your mitts off of me.”

Satoru groans dramatically, bed creaking as he shuffles what you can only assume to be closer to you. “You keep your mitts off of me, you lecher.” he quips, voice dripping with sarcasm as he inches closer.

You stiffen at his proximity, feeling his warmth seep through the layers of blankets and pillows as he chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine, “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. We used to share a bed all the time.”

“That was before,” you interject. God, you didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“Before what?” Satoru presses, his voice low and insistent.

Now, you might’ve let yourself be goaded into sharing a bed but these were old wounds better off left alone. You hiss, tone firm, “Before. Now sleep”

Before when you didn’t have to make a wall of pillows. Before when he would hold you tight and whisper sweet secrets into your ear. That he’d buy you the biggest ring he saw and promise you the world. Before-

“I missed you, y’know.” Satoru breaks the silence barely audible over the sound of your own thoughts. The word pangs through your mind and claws at your chest. And at your silence he continues, tone a little lighter, “And stop hogging all the blankets, I’m gonna freeze to-”

“Boardwalk.”

“My apologies, ma’am. Goodnight, ma’am.”

And he sinks back into his pillow with a huff, you let out a sigh of relief. Something hot coiling in your stomach as you close try to catch as much sleep as you possibly could with the bane of your existence laying right beside you. The suddenly taller, dangerously handsome, still as-obnoxious-as-ever bane of your existence.

You just wonder if he remembered “before”.

Oh, how Satoru remembered “before”. So much so that he had sixteen different playlists dedicated to you even after the breakup.

It’s divine punishment - it has to be. Satoru thinks there’s no reasonable explanation for the series of unfortunate events happening to him other than punishment from his ancestors above for being such a pussy and losing the love of his life.

First he forgets his slippers, then he ends up locked out of his own honeymoon suite by said love of his life. Granted, all thoughts of his poor burnt soles went out the window the moment he caught a glimpse of you in that positively sinful bikini. God, were you glowing. A goddess upon Earth - he could really give the Gojo Satoru of five months ago a good, hard kick.

And now he’s stuck in a - very comfortable - prison with you just inches away, tossing and turning in that way he knows means that you can’t sleep either.

Honestly, very funny universe, the great Gojo Satoru demands a refund. Way to punk’d him into confronting the feelings he’s desperately been trying to bury these past few months - ever since he got on that plane to Tokyo and contemplated faking a heart attack just to get off.

Realizing just then that he lost the love of his life - and the only woman who’d tolerate his karaoke nights. But with that realization came another, more jarring one: he was too late.

Every touch, every laugh, and even every time you rolled your eyes was etched into his very soul, and it felt like a montage from a sappy breakup movie directed by a sadistic screenwriter who had it out for him.

And it really didn’t help that this was the exact suite he was planning once upon a time to propose in. God, how you’d feed him to the crabs if he said anything about that - nevermind the fact that he was actually one that booked this-

But still, some traitorous, annoying part of his heart interrupts, she still hasn’t made you sleep on the boardwalk yet.

Maybe - just maybe - he’ll wake up to a second chance?

…

Ha. As if.

“I can’t sleep.” Satoru groans out loud, more so to drown out his own thoughts than anything.

“Well, I can. Goodnight.”

Ah, his girl was such a lil’ liar. Undeterred, the mattress creaks as he shuffles his weight to excitedly face you, taking a moment to admire how pretty you looked under the dim moonlight. He plows on, “Hey, if you promise not to make me crab food, wanna walk along the beach and watch the stars?”

A beat of silence. One. Two. so deafening and tense that Satoru was half a second away from obnoxiously laughing it off as a joke and pulling out his Emo Times™ playlist.

“Or I can go back to the couch and-”

“Shut up. Let’s watch the stars, Satoru.”

But what do you know - maybe the universe hasn’t given up on him just yet.

And, well, if he woke up the next morning breaching your fortress - your warm breath tickling his neck and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, like the lifeline he never knew he needed - then, neither of you mentioned it.

---

“Hey, Satoru. You think we’ll always be like this?” you hum into your boyfriend’s chest, barely a whisper as the looming fears of, well, everything ring in your mind.

He pulls you close, flashing a mischievous grin before planting a dramatic kiss on the top of your head. “Duh, I’ll always be around to drive you dangerously close to a stroke, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, yet bury yourself closer to his warmth anyway.

“Besides, it doesn’t matter if I have to drag you by the leg to Tokyo. Wherever you are is where I belong. ”

---

You’ve come to learn that a resort island is only so big when you’re actively trying to avoid your 6’3 manchild of an ex.

Now that you were rooming with Satoru, sleeping with Satoru (in a literal sense only, of course), and just-so-happening to bump into him at the beach - somehow, talking with him is a little easier, his presence just a bit more exciting than you’d care to admit.

If the you of four days ago could see what had become of you, then she’d probably slap some sense into you faster than you could say “Kill Bill”. Sleeping in the same bed (still only literally), having dinner, watching the stars - with Gojo Satoru? You’ve gone completely off your rocker.

But could you really be blamed? These last few days have you feeling like maybe you’ve been dropped into an alternate universe, where you and Satoru never broke up.

Yet, reality is a persistent little bastard. And with the end of your trip looming dangerously closer, the past you would be cackling mockingly in your face, flashing a large sign in big, red letters reading “I TOLD you so.”

Whatever. Maybe by this time tomorrow both of you could laugh this all off as a silly little adventure and call yourself somewhat begrudging friends. Maybe you’d even end up unblocking him by the end - on Gmail, at least.

At the very least, dinnertime was a solace - both from your thoughts and the smug bastard talking your ear off about how he could “make that spaghetti better than a thousand Italian grandmothers.”

Until the fourth - and final - night, that is. When the resort, deciding that your current torture wasn’t already enough, arranged a special candlelit dinner. A romantic one. By the beach. With Satoru of all people.

Great. Wonderful. Perfect, in fact. Going out with a bang. Was this really part of the all-inclusive package? It was like the universe was playing some twisted joke on you - or some awful version of wingmanning.

You grit your teeth silently as you’re ushered to the beachside table, thoughts barely audible over the waves crashing against the shore and the soft, romantic music drifting from the band nearby.

The complete opposite of Satoru, who was already seated at the table and enjoying himself far too much for your liking. He lounged back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he watched you sit opposite him uncomfortably.

You hated to admit it - but God was he dangerously beautiful in that crisp white button-up, one that you knew was from his overpriced collection for special occasions. You found yourself fighting to avoid the amber hues twinkling in his eyes as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm shadows that bring out his pretty features.

Pretty? So frighteningly pretty - until he speaks, that is.

“And here I thought our honeymoon couldn’t get any worse. You’re sweating bullets, sweetheart. This your first date with me or something?”

“We’re not on a honeymoon, Satoru. And no, it just brings back memories.” you scoff. Relishing in the way he inches his chair closer to listen, clearly not expecting this sudden sentimentality. “Memories of why I blocked you on every social media.”

All but slamming his head down on the table, Satoru whines out, “Ouch, straight for the jugular. That mouth is still as bitchy as ever, huh? Though I do prefer it choking on my-”

“I’m going to throw you into the ocean.”

“Ooo, kinky~” he hums, swirling his wine glass, “But you know what this reminds me of? That one time we had dinner under the stars.”

You froze, the memories suddenly flashing back to you despite your best efforts to suppress them. “Oh yeah,” you muse. A chuckle leaving your mouth despite yourself, “Wasn’t that where you spilled ketchup all over your shirt and then insisted it was a fashion statement?”

He leans in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hey! It worked, didn’t it? I got compliments from everyone including you.”

“I was just trying to stop you from bursting into tears.” you roll your eyes, shaking your head at the memory.

“Exactly, sweetheart. Like moths to a flame.”

“More like to a bug-zapper.”

Satoru throws his head back and laughs, loud and unabashed. A sound that echoes across the beach and makes something warm and sticky strum at your heartstrings. And at that moment, that stupid, little part of you didn’t even mind that you were at a special candlelit dinner. A romantic one. By the beach. With Satoru of all people.

And he didn’t even have to goad you into it with SZA this time.

As the orange glow of the setting sun melded into the cool blue of the night, it almost felt like slipping back into an old routine. The food had long since been finished. Jabs and shared memories flowing through the air like the gentle waves lapping at the shore.

The cool air was now thick with contentment and something so unknown yet so familiar that it made your heart race.

“I swear.” you groan over Satoru’s loud cackles, “He tried to charm his way out of the bill by flirting with the waitress. In front of me.”

Satoru doubles over, clutching his stomach as he laughs uproariously. “Classic move! If he’s going to be a cheapskate then he should’ve at least been successful with it.”

Damn, was he eternally grateful for these dim candles. Otherwise you’d surely have caught the rosy flushing tinting his cheeks. How dare you sit there so gorgeous and perfect in front of him. Perfect for him - you haven’t changed one bit.

“Right? She looked ready to fling us both out.” You chuckle, eyes catching on the little dimple just at the corner of his mouth as Satoru shoots you a sly grin. “Mhm, I know if it were me I would’ve charmed us out of the bill successfully.”

You raise a brow, retorting, “Oh please. I’ve had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of that ‘charm’. You’d probably end up charming us into washing dishes in the kitchen.”

Ah, right now, he doesn’t think he wants to be anywhere but here - bickering with you.

“Ouch, you wound me, woman!” Satoru feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically before leaning down to whisper, low and conspiratorial, “Besides, I doubt you even remember what pleasure feels like since being with me.”

A thrill goes down your spine as you realize the insinuation of his words, steady and searing - matching that of Satoru’s fingers on yours - which had snuck their way across the table, lazily tracing patterns along your skin.

When did they even get there? Sly bastard.

Your mouth drops into a soft oh! at the dangerous glint in his eyes. But you refuse to back down, “Don’t flatter yourself, Satoru. I’ve had other guys make me cum much harder than you have.”

Touch burning. Mapping every curve and dip he’d known so well, and this time - you graze them back. A challenge. God, you missed that warm little flutter in your chest.

That seems to catch him by surprise, as those darkened blue eyes widen. But there’s a dangerous edge to his grin as he purrs, voice low. “Is that so?”

And with that, Satoru’s chair is scraping softly against the sand as he stands up, “C’mon, you’re gonna regret that, sweetheart.”

Oh.

Satoru knows that it’s been 5 months, 4 weeks, and 8 hours since you two lasted an entire dinner civilly - not that he was counting, duh.

So when he begged the resort staff into setting the two of you up on this special candlelit dinner, he was expecting you to drown him in the lobster tank halfway through or at least end the night with a slap.

What he certainly did not expect was to end dinner with you shoved against the closed door of your suite, legs wrapped impossibly tight around his waist, and lips trailing hot, openmouthed kisses down your neck. He angles your neck, body pressing so impossibly close to yours.

Inwardly, you curse his button-up for being so goddamn thin that you could feel his abs rub against you with every little movement. Toned chest rumbling as he groans at your hands tugging at those soft locks - just a tiny revenge, for your body lotion.

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, and he breathes it in with an almost-pained sigh - not wanting to part for even a second. Because fuck it took so long to get you back and he wasn’t going to waste a single moment.

Pulling just a hair’s breadth away, “Tell me what you want. Always knew we’d end up-”

“Just shut up and kiss me, you smug bastard.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And, well, who was he to deny you? So he does.

His lips are searing on yours, hasty and greedy. With a tinge of something so painfully familiar. Your hands make their way onto his chest, feeling the thundering heartbeat against your fingertips - matching that of yours.

Sweet. You tasted so sweet. Just like honey, and all the dreams where he didn’t leave you behind. Where he didn’t get on that damned plane but instead ran to you all the way from the airport like those sappy romcoms you love.

He licks at the seam of your lips, drinking in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, God, knowing his luck - he probably won’t.

One hand cups your cheek so gently - a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his lips as he kisses you deeper. Meanwhile the other wanders the expanse of your body, leaving a burning trail of fire in their wake.

Satoru parts with a playful nip to your bottom lip - and before you realize what’s happening, the zipper hits the ground. He’s ripping your pretty dress off - mumbling something about “buying a new one” before large hands surge forward, groping and kneading your tits.

His mouth waters at the sight of your bra. Light blue - to match his eyes. “You evil, evil woman.” he mutters into the soft valley of your breasts as you giggle delightedly. Oh, how he couldn’t get enough of you.

And if there was ever a moment that Satoru thinks he could cream his pants right there, then this would be at the very top, followed very closely by the sight of that withering glare you shot after opening that suite door to him just a few days ago.

He unhooks your bra with one hand, throwing it blindly across the room as if it killed him to see you clothed.

Immediately, Satoru drops to his knees with the desperation of a madman, coming face-to face with the heavenly sight of your clothed cunt, soaking through your thin panties.

“Didn’t specify where I had to kiss, sweetheart.”

Your gaze pierces through him, as it always did. “What are you-” Your words get choked up in your throat as his tongue darts out. Licking a long, languid stripe over your clothed cunt.

“Shit. So sweet f’me, jus’ like I remember. Just one taste and I feel like m’gonna cum in my pants.” Satoru groans, urgently sliding your wet panties down your quivering legs.

“F-flattery won’t work.” you stammer out as his hot breath fans your quivering entrance as he waits just a second - one, two.

Drinking in the view of your pretty pussy with dazed, half-lidded eyes. Wet - so wet, he almost wants to tease you - just a bit, to see if you’ll get even wetter. Ah, he doesn’t have enough time to take in this view - probably never will. Would it ruin the mood if he took a picture?

“Oh, I’d say it worked pretty well.”

Cock twitching carnally, Satoru needed to taste you now. He immediately surges forward. Breathing you in so sinfully, pooling your juices on his tongue. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he tips his head back back back to let it slide down his throat.

Shit, if you were the forbidden fruit then he would gladly be cast out of the garden of Eden.

Half-delirious thoughts running through his mind, Satoru flattens his tongue across your swollen folds. Leisurely sliding between them, catching on your throbbing clit up and down up and down up and-

“Oh- hngh, Satoru faster-”

“So bossy.” he hums prettily around your swollen clit, the vibrations stimulating it just right. But of course, what his girl wants, she will get.

Lewd squelches and your mewls of his name ring in the heady room as he speeds up his ministrations. Rolling his tongue harshly along your clit, sucking so sensually. Licking at your sweet cunt, dipping just into your sloppy hole.

You almost miss the long fingers that deftly slide their way up your thigh, spreading your folds with his thumbs. A low groan sounds at the back of his throat as your walls flutter so sinfully around nothing - aching for more friction.

Urgently, Satoru bullies his fingers past your folds, sinking deep into your plushy walls as his tongue continues its abuse. So warm and wet around him. Curling his fingers just right.

“Ah- fuck, Satoru- Feels s’good.” you gasp as he starts thrusting his fingers back and forth. A ruthless pace that has tears stinging your eyes, hitting that spot over and over and-

“Oh yeah? Thought you didn’t like my ‘big mouth’?” he purrs, muffled around your clit, “Look at you, sweetheart, now falling apart cos’ of it.”

You scoff, fingers tangling in his silky hair, pushing him deeper into your dripping pussy - mostly because you needed it, but somewhat because you really needed him to shut up. “Yeah, I like it better when you shut the fuck up.”

And with a dark chuckle, his mouth is back on your cunt. Your slick glossy and dripping down the corner of his mouth as he alternates between sucking unforgivingly on your ravaged clit and fucking into you at the same time as his fingers.

And in the delicious stretch of your cunt, you barely register the metallic clinking of a belt before Satoru presses his clothed erection into you.

Shit. You clench so obscenely around his tongue at the feeling of his clothed, painfully hard and throbbing against your leg. Fuck - as big as you remember. You weren’t gonna be able to walk for a while.

“You like this, huh?” he murmurs, speeding up the rhythm of his fingers. Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure down your spine.

Cracking an eye open you risk a glance downward. Greedily eyeing the hand wrapped tightly around the base, moving up up up. Pumping in small, jerky movements at the same pace of his fingers fucking into you. “Like the way m’getting off to tonguefucking my girl?”

“Like thinking about how this is what I thought about all those lonely fucking night without you?” You arch into his touch, fingers searing on his scalp and angling Satoru just right to make your knees weak.

He’s so close that you can feel the precum smearing onto your leg. Mouth fucking you in a way you knew he wanted to with his cock right now. Rough and unrelenting.

“Like thinking about how you’re all I can fucking think about.”

“Hngh- Yes, Satoru! Yes-”

You see stars as you cum - or maybe those were the tears in your eyes. Pulling Satoru impossibly closer to your quivering pussy so that you could ride out your high on his pretty face. And he readily accepts it - letting himself be handled roughly with the conviction of a man that wouldn’t mind dying if it was suffocating in-between your pretty thighs.

Your vision is hazy, blood still roaring in your ears as Satoru stands up. Not even bothering to wipe away the wet trail of your slick prettily glossing his lips before capturing yours in a searing kiss.

“Y’know, sweetheart,” he gasps in between heated kisses. “We got a king-sized bed so we better make use of it, hm?”

Your back hits the mattress before you can even react. Reeling from shock and the audacity as you bounce at the sheer force of his throw.

“Next time you do that you’re-”

Whatever insult at the tip of your tongue melts away immediately at the purely pornographic sight of Satoru stalking his way towards you from the foot of the bed. Eyes hooded, cock rock-hard, kiss-bitten lips parted slightly in a way that was so fucked-out.

Unhurriedly approaching you with such a predatory glint in his darkened eyes as he fucks his fist slowly - so agonizingly slowly. Eyes locked on you.

Despite cumming not even minutes before, your pussy jumps in anticipation. Immediately reaching over as soon as he’s close enough - as if in a trance - to replace his hand with yours.

He was big - so mouthwateringly big. Flushed your favorite shade of pink at his leaking tip, pulsing veins glistening in the dim light - every part of Satoru was so unfairly pretty.

So hot and heavy in your hand as you pump him at a steady, methodical pace. Precum smearing on your palm, trailing down your wrist as you pump. Tighter on the base, thumbing teasingly under his slit the way you knew he used to like.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Still remember, huh?” he hisses lowly. Ah, the way he still likes.

“Mhm.” you hum absentmindedly, thighs clenching together at the way his hips grind in shallow, mindless little motions into your soft hand. Meeting your strokes as if trying to fuck something so delicious out of him.

And, well, you just couldn’t resist a taste. Bending down in one, fluid motion to delicately lick at his angry, hard head. Slightly salty taste on your tongue as you swipe at the droplets of precum pooling on his tip. Tracing lightly - ever-so-lightly - down his prominent veins.

Satoru groans, low and hoarse with desire, “Shit, hah- you don’ ngh- have to-”

“Shut up, Satoru.”

And with that, you’re shoving down as much as you can of his throbbing erection down your throat. Cunt clenching at the way he hardens impossibly as you choke and gag around him.

“Shit, oh- Oh fuck, m’girl. Yes yes yes-.” Satoru lets out a guttural moan. Fingers threading through your hair as he uses it as leverage to fuck himself slowly, deeper and deeper into your heavenly mouth. Hips stuttering and jerky with pleasure. Yeah, he definitely missed this.

Half-delirious and cock-drunk, you take him all the way till your nose was buried in the tufts of white at his toned pelvis, already so wet with saliva and precum.

Still got it, some smug, utterly debauched part of yourself titters.

It was dizzying, the way he was pulsing in your throat, his heady scent filling your senses. Beginning to move up and down up and down in hasty, desperate bobs of your head. Pulling such lewd gasps and moans from his lips.

You moan around Satoru’s thick cock, clawing at his toned hips for some semblance of stability. Some truly animalistic part of yourself relishing in the neat, red lines down his milky skin. The sight hazy through the tears that spring to your eyes at the way his fat tip hits your abused throat. A relentless, sinful tempo you were steadily losing your mind to.

Messy. It was so fucking messy.

You just wondered if his orgasm would be the same…

But, alas, one can’t always get what they want. Because Satoru pulls you off of his achingly hard cock with a lewd pop! that rings in his ears and makes your cunt twitch.

“Shit, sweetheart. Any longer and I’ll have to start thinking about ol’ Prof. Gakuganji to not cum.” he pants through ragged breaths, flashing you a deceptively innocent grin. “Now, lay back and spread ‘em f’me and let me see if your pretty pussy can still handle me.”

And that you don’t argue with.

It’s almost embarrassing - the way you scramble desperately to sink back into the mattress. Letting Satoru manhandle your legs open so shamefully for him, throwing them over his muscled shoulders. But that’s a problem for the future, not lust-drunk you.

Right now you couldn’t give less of a fuck as his hungry gaze locks on your glistening pussy. Pausing for just a split-second before spitting once. Twice. Thrice onto your waiting cunt. Making you feel more and more like an object as the warm saliva mixes obscenely with your slick, trickling down to form such a sinful pool on the sheets below.

And you liked it.

Almost as much as you loved the way Satoru drags his tip along your swollen folds, catching so maddeningly on your clit. Teasingly pooling your slick on his leaking head. It was so sloppy. And too slow.

“Satoru, I’ve waited five months too long for this. If you’re going to fuck me then fuck me like you mean it.” you grit out, frustration and pure need boiling over within you.

“Oh? So it’s like that, huh?”

And maybe you were a mastermind, maybe you were an idiot - probably both. Because Satoru immediately pushes in one, long thrust into your dripping cunt. Your words catch pathetically in your throat as he loses grip on whatever semblance of restraint he had - or his sanity - whichever one would break you first.

Fuck, it feels so heavenly. Oh, how you missed him.

Bowing his body down down down till his damp forehead met yours. Folding you completely underneath him in the way you’ve found that only the smug bastard, Gojo Satoru can.

You could almost sob at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, borderline insane, and exactly what you’d been trying to deny that you’d been craving all these past five months. Being split apart on his throbbing cock, feeling like you were about to be absolutely devoured underneath him.

It seems Satoru was just as needy for you, hot and throbbing agonizingly inside you, each little bump bump bump against your walls matching that of your heart thundering against your chest.

Or was that Satoru’s? At this point you couldn’t even tell.

“Oh, god yes-, jus’ like that ah shit shit shit-”

“This what you wanted, yeah?” A low growl leaves his throat at how sinfully your walls were milking him as he pulls back. All the way till his leaking tip was just innocently kissing your sloppy hole - only to ram his cock all the way back into your snug cunt. “To be split apart on my cock?”

Shit, he could just about pass out right now with the way your cunt was sucking him in so greedily like she never wanted to part.

Guess she missed him too, he thinks deliriously. Not even having to think about it as he starts fucking into you in shallow, mindless little thrusts. Pushing himself deeper and deeper into your plushy cunt.

“Äh- fuck, yeah. S’all I’ve wanted.” you mewl, feeling so vulnerable and exposed under the hungry eyes boring into yours. A dark gleam in them as he grins, “Then take it back.”

Disoriented, you gasp out a strangled, “What?” before Satoru’s hips become rougher, chasing his high as much as yours.

“What you said at dinner.” your lips fall into a soft oh! as you realize just what he’s talking about, “Admit that no man makes you cum as hard as I do.”

God, you don’t think you could answer even if you wanted to, choking on the harsh, purposeful movements of his hips just to fuck your soul out.

Heavy balls stinging your skin, the lewd sounds of skin-on-skin fills the heady air. Driving you to insanity. An absolutely unforgiving cadence that has the bed creaking in protest. Ah, whatever, he could buy them a new one anyway if this one just so happens to break.

“Take it back yet?” He had to break you first though.

Slick gushes out of your heated cunt, dripping down his length and pooling at his heavy balls, stinging your ass at each merciless thrust. “No.”

A large hand hastily makes its way down to draw rough, frenzied little circles on your throbbing clit. Voice strangled, sweat beading on his forehead, thrusts becoming increasingly sloppier. “How about now?”

“Ah- hngh- oh fuck. Satoru!” You could only moan softly in response, broken whimpers leaving you each time his tip kissed your cervix. Angling his hips just right to expertly brush against that one spot he knew so well would have you keening and bucking up into his cock. Your face almost burns at the sheer familiarity of it all. This bastard knew you too well.

And something about that made such an uncomfortable, prickly feeling pool in your stomach.

Something which you knew would only be sated if you looped your arms around his neck. Nails digging into his sculpted back as you pulled him impossibly closer.

Kissing his flushed cheeks as he murmurs, “Take it back, sweetheart.”

Despite the thick cock splitting you in half till you probably couldn’t walk tomorrow morning, you find it in yourself to huff out a soft laugh at the way Satoru’s tone teetered on just that endearing side of sulky. “Fine. You win, Toru.” you whisper into his lips,

And then you’re cumming. White-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes and Satoru’s lips gently slotting against yours as he fucked you through your high. Acting as if the fucked-out whimper of his nickname is one he’ll never forget.

As if he couldn’t cum simply from hearing it leave your pretty lips. And he does, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum painting your plushy walls white with a raw groan of your name. It oozes out of your cunt and onto the mess of sheets below as he fucks his seed into you as a lover would. As he would.

It was intoxicating - everything from the way you milked his cock so sinfully, to the arms tight around his shoulders. Pulling him close, running soothingly along his skin as Satoru collapses onto you with a final, fucked-out thrust.

And despite being a lightweight, Satoru’s never been so easily drunk off of something than he was off of you. God how he missed this - how he missed you.

So much so that he can’t put it into words - and probably won’t ever be able to. But it’s alright, because your sticky body snug against his, and Satoru arms tenderly around your waist - but you didn’t mind. Both of you understood.

Satoru traces his fingers lazily along your side, neither of you bothering to tackle the mammoth task of cleaning up for now. Each movement slow and gentle, as if any sudden movement might shatter the delicate balance between you.

All is quiet in your little haven, and you could almost fall asleep. The most contented one you’ve had in a while - 5 months, 3 weeks, and 7 hours ago to be exact.

But, of course, Satoru can’t keep his mouth shut for nothing. You jolt out of your reverie as he hastily tries to stifle the startled laugh that huffs out of him. Your dazed eyes meet his in the dim lighting, raising a brow in question.

“It’s just…” he starts, voice soft, “You still call me Toru. Feels like home.”

Ah.

You find yourself chuckling softly with him. Heat rushing to your cheeks, burying yourself deeper into his warm chest, to hide the embarrassingly flustered smile breaking out across your face if anything.

Chuckling, Satoru shifts closer, touch now feather-light against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with his fingertips. Faltering ever-so-slightly as you mutter out, “Happy anniversary, by the way. I didn’t say it earlier because someone was being a public menace.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault that someone locked me out of my own honeymoon suite.” he laughs, drinking in your pretty lil’ smile.

Ah, you were perfect. As you always were. Satoru can’t help but utter out a little, “Hey, if I tell you something absolutely stupid, would you promise not to make me fish food?”

“Absolutely not.”

He knew you’d say that. So he flashes you an easy grin, a hint of nervousness in it that he’s sure you see through - you always do.

“So…” he begins, “First thing’s first, I’m thinking of expanding my father’s company further overseas and it might just so happen that I’m leading the branch development and get to pick where exactly.”

God, you made him feel like such a teenager. At your stunned silence, Satoru could barely raise his eyes to meet yours as he plows on, stumbling so uncharacteristically over his words, “You, I picked where you are.”

You’re breathless, words barely audible as his sinks in. “What? Toru that’s-”

“And don’t be mad but you kinda sorta didn’t-win-the-raffle-so-instead-I-planned-this-getaway-when-we-were-together.”

Any and every trace of breathless euphoria leaves your tone as you narrow your eyes at the very guilty Satoru beside you. Fidgeting under your intense scrutiny. Finally - after what seems like an eternity - you find your senses after his whiplash-inducing information dump.

A hand immediately shoots out to squeeze his side, right where you knew he was dangerously ticklish.

“You sneaky little-” you scold over his laughed out yells of, “Mercy! No murder on our honeymoon!” squirming helplessly beneath you.

“I can’t believe you let me chug all that ice cream.”

“Exactly- hah- help! You w-would’ve been so sad that you ah- didn’t win.” he manages to choke out under your attack.

Finally relenting, only once you’re sure he’ll be feeling the burn of laughter until your flight tomorrow, you release him from your grasp. A satisfied smirk playing on your lips as you lean in close. “You’re lucky I still love you, you smug bastard” you deadpan.

“Aww, you beat me to it.” Satoru whines. Yet he reaches out to cup your cheek, “And I love you,” words hanging in the air like a promise. “With every fiber of my being.”

You let yourself be begrudgingly pulled into his embrace again, hands caressing along your skin like the highest form of worship. Satoru sighs out a contented, “Best honeymoon ever.”

But of course, you couldn’t help but bully your idiotic boyfriend. “This is not a honeymoon, Toru.” you mutter into his heated skin.

He only presses you closer to him. Yeah maybe not, fingers deftly dancing along your left hand. But maybe next time.

“Wanna watch the stars and tell me all about that branch development?”

“Of course, sweetheart, but first can you at least unblock me on Gmail now?”

“...”

You broke up with Gojo Satoru exactly 5 months, 3 weeks, and 12 hours ago. And as for how long it’s been since he won you back - well, you think it might just be one of the few things you didn’t keep count of.

A/N. Based on my vacay at Lily Beach except I didn’t meet my future husband there :0

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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gojonanami · 5 months ago

Text

❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ❞

❝ PROF. GOJO SHOWS YOU JUST HOW THE LAWS OF ATTRACTION WORK !! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!gojo x f!reader (part one of the prof gojo series)

✧ summary: satoru gojo was only stuck at this weeklong conference to appease his new boss, so what happens when he finds you at the bar and can't stop thinking about just how attractive you are? and what happens when the conference is over?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, hooking up at an academic conference, reader is a professor, fingering (f! receiving), oral (m! receiving), gojo getting very horny around you, so much flirting, amateur's take on physics, art by found on Pinterest (pls let me know if you know the og artist)

✧ wc: 10,878

“Come here often?”

If someone had asked Professor Satoru Gojo that a few months ago, he would have said—no he would have scoffed and asked if he looked like a professor who had to beg for funding — and he didn’t. But now, he swirled his drink, ice cubes clinking against the sides of the condensation-ridden glass — who knows?

His new department head might have his termination papers drawn from the moment he returns to the university from his very extended research trip — with no results to show for it. Normally he wouldn’t be worried — not with his renowned academic record, but he had extended this trip twice — and one of those on the university’s payroll.

And it wasn’t a cheap payroll.

To top it off, the new department head was doing a lecture here today at this conference hosted by his university, He had heard the new head was a real hard ass, a person who had straightened out the department while he had been away — garnering more grants, but also cutting funding to continual failures. And he and his research had been asked about.

Fuck. He downed his fruity mocktail, the sweet syrupy fruit juice doing little to soothe the bitter aftertaste of failure that lingered on his tongue.

He usually wouldn’t be so worried. He was Satoru Gojo — he had been the youngest in his field to achieve a Ph.D. in the field of Quantum Physics, a respected expert and renowned lecturer, and one of the scientists most likely to win a Nobel prize within the next few years or so. Or so his biography on LinkedIn said.

But that had gone up in smoke — his research on the potential curvature of quantum space-time as a method to slow or speed up time between two points of matter had been a complete failure.

One of his first major failures.

He sighs, and here he was feeling sorry for himself — alone. Or relatively so. His glass clinked against the sticky bar top of the tacky bar of the hotel they decided to hold this conference in — the rings from long-gone drinks lining up and down the relatively empty bar, other patrons having left for their rooms.

But not you.

He hadn’t met you before — not really. Although it was not as if he had made a habit of befriending people at any academic event, he knew if he had seen your face before, he wouldn’t have forgotten. He stole a glance as he sipped at his drink, eyes flickering over your form as you approached the bar.

Honestly, if he had, he wouldn’t forget someone like you.

He had seen you earlier during the conference, a particularly biting question asked during a keynote presentation that had wiped the obnoxious grin off the pretentious guy’s face, his reply then ripped to shreds in seconds with a smile on your lips.

And you had left so quickly he didn’t get to thank you for your daring rescue of his captive audience as he finally ended his victory lap with a scurry out the door. But maybe now, he could thank you with a drink — eyes flitting to those pretty lips that hid your sharp tongue — or something more.

You order your drink, sitting a stool away, the creak of the rusty seat catching his attention, as your eyes slide to his, “And another of whatever he was having,” Satoru tilts his head as you shrug, “looks like you could use it,”

He gapes at you in mock offense, “Eh? I’ll have you know I’m the most excited person here,” he replies as the bartender places both drinks in front of you, “who wouldn’t be excited to be in some hotel for this prestigious academic conference?”

“Almost every sane person?” and he chuckles, swirling his drink with his straw, “and the good news is that it’s only just begun. We still have the whole week to be bored to tears and have our brains turn to mush when pretending to be interesting to get funding from stingy donors,”

“I don’t need to pretend — I am interesting,” his lips curl, and you snort, downing your drink, before setting it down, ice rattling at the bottom.

“Well, I’ll say your face is more interesting with a smile on it,” you take money from your bag and pay off the tab with a tip.

You’re slipping from the stool with ease, stepping past his stool, nearly brushing against his back, as you make your way out of the bar, and it almost feels as if you're slipping from his fingers, “Is that a compliment?”

You pause, looking back over your shoulder, “You’ll know when I’m complimenting you,” and your smile is far better than his is, a heat settling over his cheeks at the sight of it, “see you around,”

And you’re gone, and he’s left dumbstruck, bitter taste in his mouth slowly beginning to fade — but he knows that the only way it would completely sink into sweetness is if he could have your name roll off his lips — maybe something even sweeter.

He paid for his drink with a tip, sliding off the stool himself, running a hand through his hair.

He could only hope you came here often now.

~~~

It was pathetic how often he had found himself frequenting this bar over the weekend. How frequent? The bartender had learned his name by memory the third time he showed up, his order already known and being prepared by the time he walked in.

So his drink was present — but you weren’t.

He hadn’t seen you around, but he had walked the floors of this conference and hadn’t seen even a glimpse of you. But why was he so desperate for a stranger that he met once? He wasn’t one for people — even from when he was a kid. People always saw him and his intellect as something they could take, they could use — an attraction that he only wished he could repel just as magnets did. He always had been shelved as a commodity in his field, but never trotted out for events because he never wanted to bother kissing up — he was better for a blunt word than mindless dribble.

Fuck him.

And now here he was — possibly at the end of his career and all he could concern himself with was this mystery woman he met at the hotel bar. Maybe because it was easier to think about — motion was the only thing he knew how to keep doing. Easier to keep in motion after a force acts on him than to keep still.

And you were a force.

“Y’know when I asked you if you come here often, I didn’t think I’d have come here to see you again,” the now familiar squeak and groan of the bar stool makes him want to bite his lip, “how long you’ve been here?”

He bites back his own grin, hoping not to look so desperate as he felt — was this a distraction from his own impending problems? Yes. But you were a welcome one.

“One drink, about fifteen minutes,” he replies, “I haven’t seen you around either — get stuck inside a conference room?” And you order your drink, “put it on my tab,” he tells the bartender, and the man nods wordlessly, but adds a raised eyebrow when you’re looking away.

“Something like that,” and you’re wiping the counter with napkins before leaning against it with your arm, “but more like I was always doing something—I’m not one to—“

“Stand still?” you raise an eyebrow, as the bartender sets your drink in front of you, “staying in motion is the only thing I know how to do, especially these days,”

“Staying in motion?” you repeat, and Satoru shakes his head.

“I’m the type to go from thing to thing — my best friend always joked that I was no better than the first law of motion—”

You snort, cracking a smile, “Being in motion is better than being at rest,” you sigh, swirling the liquid in your glass, toying with the straw stirrers in your drink, “it’s easy to get used to stay still once you are,”

“Sounds like you speak from experience,” and you’re sighing, downing the rest of your drink, as the ice clinks against the bottom of the empty glass.

“Ever have a failure that feels so deep it feels like there’s no going back? Not even a failure — just even a gap, and it feels as more time passes, the chasm widens before you and it becomes harder to see yourself making it to the other side,” you order another drink, turning to face him again, “soon you become more preoccupied with the abyss than thinking about how to make it across,”

“If you asked me a few weeks ago, I would have said no, but now,” he sighs, as he asks for a refill himself, “now I’m in that sinking ship with you,”

“Who said I was still there?” you reply and he’s gaping at you, before a laugh escapes your lips, “I got to shore, you will too,”

“And how do you know that?” And you only shrug, a smile on your lips that makes something in his heart stir that hasn’t in far too long.

“You don’t look like the type to drown,” and he tilts his head, “you look like the type who stubbornly figures out to swim, despite the odds,” and he snorts, as his drink is placed in front of him, “so maybe don’t give up so easily, after all the first time is the hardest,”

And he chuckles, ��Personal experience?” You shrug, tracing the rim of your glass, “No, I always get what I really want the first time,” as you pause to catch his eye, a smile on your lips.

“And if you don’t?”

“Then I didn’t really want it,” you smile, as you get to your feet, “I have a dinner to get to, but I’ll leave you with this,” you wrote something down on the napkin you had gotten with your drink, folding it and handing it to him.

He takes it, but his eyes remain on you, “You’re always disappearing — want to keep me wanting, Professor?”

“You’d want me anyway,” and Satoru is turning in the stool to watch you walk off, a glimpse of a small smile on your lips, as he looks at the writing on the napkin.

—because he knows you’re right.

~~~

“You want me right, Professor?” you murmured in his ear, hot words said as your warm breath fanned across his skin, but your lips were more sinful than your words — pressing torturously chaste kisses along his jaw, your front pressed to your back, as your hands ghosted along his chest. One of your hands toyed with the top button of his shirt, while the other traced along his collarbone, “you followed me after all.”

And he did, Satoru had caught you by wrist, a graze that had your head flicking back, finding his blue, and your lips curled — and he just knew he was fucked.

He just didn’t know how well.

You had him sat on the couch, back to the armrest, biting back needy noises that he refused to let leave his lips, not yet at least, “Y’know I want you, sweetheart,” a small shiver crawling up his spine as your lips graze the soft skin of his ear, “I’m not exactly playing hard to get by coming up to your room, am I?”

And your hand drags lower, brushing against his growing bulge, a low groan in his chest, “Oh I’d say you’re fairly hard, Toru,” and your forefinger presses teasingly against his clothed slit, “so hard already, wonder what would happen if I got you in my mouth, flicked my tongue over the length, made you moan my name as your cock fucked my throat?” And fuck, maybe he was wrong — maybe your words were worse, his dick twitched against your touch, desperate as he felt for more of your touch, “where’s that mouth of yours now, Satoru?”

And you’re rounding him, guiding his legs so he’s sitting properly on the couch now, feet on the ground, but he certainly wasn’t clear-headed — not when you climbed into his lap. A grunt left his lips, a weight that’s a comfort rather than a burden, something he welcomes because he only needs you closer and closer until there’s no space left between you at all.

“My mouth is desperate to do something other than talk, baby,” and his fingers winding their way through your locks before resting against the nape of your neck, and the other trying to slide down the swell of your hip only for your hand to stop him, “but only if you’ll let me I guess,” his lips curl into a smirk, one that you drag your thumb down.

“I will,” your lips are barely a breath away from his own, noses bumping, as the anticipation grows thicker than honeyed molasses one that seems to consume every one of his thoughts at a snail's pace as he remains stuck on two things — you and your lips, “once I’m done teaching you my lesson,” and your lips brush.

“Sir?” The bill is slapped down in front of him, as he snaps back to reality, the sounds of bar stools thumping against the counter as they are mounted on top jars him, as he shakes himself free from his thoughts, “bar isn’t for sleeping, go to your room,” His cheeks burn.

Satoru pulls several bills out and leaves a generous tip, before sliding off his stool with a shake of his head, and a distinct ache between his thighs, that he quickly hides with his suit coat draped on his arm in front of him.

“Not anything you serve here.”

~~~

You’re like a daydream, Satoru realizes when he’s making his way to the hotel bar again. One that he’s using as a distraction — but a lovely daydream all the same. His conference days are spent waiting for a respite at the bar in the evenings — the only time he felt intellectually stimulated at a mechanically orchestrated event like this.

And one that he couldn’t get out of his head. The daydream he had was so vivid, he could swear it was reality if he hadn’t been so rudely awakened. And right when it was getting to—

Oh, what the fuck was he thinking? He shakes his head as if it would rid his head of his thoughts (it doesn’t).

He ran his fingers through his hair, what was it about you? You were gorgeous, sure, and brilliant enough to match him barb for barb, but you were just —- gravitational. He could feel him pulled in by your orbit and he found himself not resisting your force in the slightest — only hoping to accelerate.

Was this the phenomenon of quantum entanglement? He knew it was true for the tiniest of particles, the very same forces that pulled him close, he knew were pulling you close too — doomed in the same downward spiral without having to spare a glance. But did he?

He didn’t know the first thing about you — he only knew you were someone related to the field of physics — you had to be a professor, far too smart to be a generous donor. He only knew your first name, and you knew the same about him — and there was a part of him that preferred it that way. He had grown used to the attention given to him for simply his name — and he felt as if it was as if he had been placed on a pedestal that no one would dare to climb to speak, but instead only looked up. He almost chuckled at the thought of you ever doing that — but you were more the type to kick the pedestal out from under him, and force him to meet your gaze.

And he much preferred that — and you.

And now, he glances at the bar as it came into view, a double take almost warranted at the sight — was he dreaming again, even before his head had even attempted to hit the pillow? Or was it true that you were sitting at the bar nursing a drink alone? Pretty eyes glancing at the time on your phone and he bit back a smile, stepping towards you — eager remark about how long you’ve been waiting for him? Even though he wasn’t one to talk — as he had spent his whole day waiting for this.

Waiting for you, rather.

He stopped when another man approached you — Satoru paused, and he supposed he had to wait longer. Who was this now? You didn’t seem to know him, leaning away as he stood near you, not too close, but he seemed to be talking shyly, and yet his words never seemed to stop. Even though it seemed you wanted them to.

And when he caught a glimpse of the man’s face, he realized just who the man was.

Well, well — he knew just what to do to get rid of him — appear.

“Hey,” Satoru walked over, leaning on the bar, meeting the man’s gaze with a smile, before his eyes slid back to you, “make a new friend?” He orders his drink with the bartender as he slides his gaze back to the man lingering, whose face had grown both soured and pale all at once.

“Sort of, yes, this is—“

“I actually must go, please excuse me,” the man abruptly says, bowing politely to the two of you before shooting a glare at Satoru before heading off towards the elevators.

“Nice seeing you too, Gege!” Satoru called after him, smirking at the man’s flinch just before he turned the corner, “that guy hates me,” he orders his drink, taking a seat beside you, “don’t know why,”

“I can see that,” you chuckle, glancing back where the man had disappeared off to, “he’s some sort of author?”

Satoru nods, as the bartender places his drink in front of him, “He is — a mangaka fascinated by physics, he pestered me with questions, but he didn’t like when I did the same,”

You snort, only imagining what kinds of questions he had bothered the man with, “You freaked out the freak?”

“Well, he couldn’t match me,” you smirked, as he leaned against the counter, sipping his drink, your head tilting, “can you?”

“We’ll have to find out, won’t we?” you raise an eyebrow, as he grins, “think I’m doing a pretty good job so far,” and you shrug, a wry smile pulling at the corners of your lips as he pouts, “so cruel to treat the man that saved you from an uncomfortable conversation,” and he sighs dramatically, “maybe I’ll call Gege back down,”

You raise an eyebrow, “He wouldn’t come if you called,”

Satoru pauses, “He might if I promised to leave,”

“Is this your way of trying to get me to ask you to stay?” You were far too quick-witted for his own good.

“No this is my way of getting you to tell me that you want me to stay,” but lucky for him, he had the same biting tongue to match.

And you laugh, and he wants nothing more than to make you laugh again and again — a better achievement than any academic accolade that graced his walls, “Well I do owe you one,” you order another round.

“I think I earned more than a round of drinks,” and you raise an eyebrow, as you down the rest of your drink.

“And that is?”

~~~

“When you said we would be doing research, I assumed we would be doing research related to your speciality in physics, not—“

“This is important research,” Satoru led you through the streets, the stuffy halls of the conference growing more distant, “crucial to the furthering of our goals, our destinies,”

Satoru grinned, his smile somehow brighter than the sun itself, and even more obnoxious — but begrudgingly charming. He truly was a paradox incarnate — somehow bright but blinding, sweet but sharp, and enticing yet out of reach. Even more so in the casual white t-shirt and dark blue jeans he had opted for today, sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose as he looked at you over the rim with that irritatingly endearing grin.

And that grin must have been hypnotic because how else would he have convinced you to skip half a day of this week-long conference that you had been preparing for months to attend (that and you had grown tired of simply chugging your drink of choice between workshops and keynotes and skipping almost every meal except for some stale pastries offered at one of a dozen talks).

“And this crucial research is the best sweets shop in the area—“

You snort, as you eye the crowd of people in front of this particular shop, “Because that’s a question the physics community has been pondering — not dark matter or Baryon asymmetry—“

“Well, I know your specialty is astrophysics now,” and you roll your eyes, as his hand finds yours, fingers laced together, as he pulls you into the throng of people in front of the shop, “don’t wanna lose you there,”

“Is that your excuse to hold my hand?” You reply, lips nearly pressed to his ear with how loud it was.

He leans closer, his body pressed against your side, lips brushing your ear, “was I that obvious?” He grins, and pulls away as quickly as he had come, fingers parting yours as you both reach the front of the line. And why was it — your heart sinks ever so slightly at the absence of his warmth — that you mourned his touch as if you’d had it all your life instead of the first time?

“You coming, sweetheart?” and you snap from your thoughts, and follow up to the counter — brushing your thoughts aside as you occupied your head with the sweets in front of you — instead of the man obsessed with them beside you. You realize what he’s said and you’re not one for pet names, but the way it rolls off his tongue and sticks syrupy sweet in your head almost makes you like it

“Noooo, don’t!” You shield your strawberry dessert from his fork, as it prodded gently at the back of your palm, “you already ate so many desserts, why do you want mine?”

You had watched this grown man down half a dozen different cakes, pastries, and cookies — he was a walking advert for what not to do to contract diabetes. For as sharp as his tongue was, you watched him lick a bit of frosting from his lip, it probably tasted twice as sweet.

“Exactly because it’s yours,” he still tried but you caught his fork again with your own, “it’s so much sweeter when you steal it,”

“So we’re adding thievery to your list of crimes,” and he clutches at his chest in mock shock, “theft, harassment—“

He gapes at you, “Eh? When did I harass you?”

“Gege,” and he rolls his eyes.

“He loves me, he lives for me,”

“I think he wishes you would do the exact opposite,” and he pouts only to dart his hand out quick and steal a dollop of the airy frosting from the top of the cake on his form, he grins in victory, but you only lean forward, grabbing at his hand and lick it from his fork, “you’re right, it is sweeter, when you steal it,”

His eyes find yours and fuck, your heart nearly contused itself against your ribs, what was it about him that made you never want to look away? It was a game of chicken for you — stare until the other flinches, because then you could see them and they would never see you — and you had never lost—but he made you want to lose. But you also couldn’t bear to look away all the same.

“Suppose that was my first lesson for you, sweetheart,” and that sweetness seems to stick with you, the pet names growing on you.

“You do have a way of making me look at things at a different angle,” you admit, and you wonder why a man like this was so lost as he seemed — he was definitely seen, wherever he went, but never understood, “is that a talent of yours?”

“I tend to do my best with my back against the wall,” and you can’t help but imagine how he’d look with his back to a wall — it’s not a bad image.

Your lips curl, “I bet you do,” and you continue walking off, taking another bite of your cake, not noticing the way his eyes watched you — the same way you had.

~~~

“I can’t believe you don’t trust me to choose a place for dinner,” Satoru sighs, as the two of them are seated at the bar for dinner, the tables all full for the night, “I could have found us a place that would have given us an actual table,”

“For all I know, you would have somehow found a place that only serves dessert,” he scoffs, and the two of you order your drinks, as the waiter parts to bring your orders, “Don’t scoff at me, I know you probably know at least one place, if not ten,”

“I don’t know—” and you tilt your head, eyebrow raised, and he shrugs, a small smile pulling at his lips, “none of them are in the area, but there is a good ice cream place—”

You snort, not glancing up from perusing the menu, as the waiter brings over your drinks, and the two of you order — and to your surprise, he orders something savory and not sweet, “Surprised you didn’t ask for the dessert menu first,”

“Well, I do like to take my time, after all,” his lips curl into a small grin, as he lifts his glass to his pretty lips, “dessert is better when you’re patient,”

Oh? Oh.

“You don’t look like the type that’s used to waiting for what he wants,”

“You keep saying I look like this or that, screw that,” he leans back in his chair, “I can wait for the things I really want — and I always get what I want, sweetheart,”

You were toeing a line you shouldn’t be toeing — it was Schrodinger’s cat, and a box you shouldn’t look inside — because until you did, there was always a chance the cat was alive, and there was always a chance that this wouldn’t be a mistake — but once you opened it — there was no going back. But still — the words are pulled from your mouth as if you had no choice, the box tipping open of its own accord.

“And what is it that you—”

“Huh? Gojo?” your eyes snap over to a woman — a far too gorgeous woman, in a long black dress that floated down to her ankles, her black heels clicking against the wood of the floor of the restaurant, her silver hair in a tight high ponytail, bangs framing her face.

“Mei Mei,” his attention falls to her, and you’re left sitting, fully out of the loop and completely irritated, but you didn’t know why, “I didn’t know you were in town,”

“For good reason, then you might have a reason to avoid me,” Mei Mei smiles, “I saw Geto recently. He told me you were coming back soon from your sabbatical,” and you see a flicker of emotion cross his expression and disappear as quickly as it appeared, “and who’s this?”

You offer your hand and introduce yourself, “And are you a professor as well?”

“No, I’m a donor,” and you nod, “and what do you—” but then her friend is calling her back, her head turning.

“I should go back to my party, it was nice to meet you,” Mei Mei offers a smile before her gaze slithers its way back to Satoru, “I’m sure we’ll be speaking soon, Satoru. Let me know about that night out we had discussed.” Her fingers brush his shoulder, giving you a wry smile before slipping off.

And a sinking feeling settles over you — as he waves at her — a night out? Was this all this was? Another night out?

And your skin crawls as she walks off, Satoru turning back to look at you, your lips a thin line as you force your gaze back to his, “What were you saying again? And the waiter comes soon enough with your meals, placing them in front of them.

“Nothing,” your lips curl, perhaps this box was better left unopened, “nothing at all.”

~~~

“What’s wrong?” This was why Satoru didn’t care to get invested in others. When he couldn’t make heads or tails of himself — they expected him to make heads and tails of them. It was easier to write people off, put distance between him and them, than it was to draw close. He was used to too many being far too close, gawking as if he were an illustrious painting, unable to make out a single brushstroke much less who he was. But he never cared to explain or have anyone understand and he paid others the same courtesy.

Except you.

“I told you, nothing,” you sighed as you and Satoru made your way back to the hotel that was hosting the conference, “it’s just been a long day,”

And he could let this go, fall silent with a sharp remark that would only push you away, the same distance but eons further than you had ever been — a space-time curvature of his own making.

“You’re a terrible liar,” but he doesn’t.

“Well, my specialty isn’t lying I guess,” you snap, scrubbing a hand down your face, “sorry, I—“

“What do you think I lied about?” and you pause, as the two of you stand a few feet from the hotel, people filing in and out of the structure as bellmen and cars pull up to help them in and out of their cars, “about my brilliance? I know it can be hard to believe how someone can be so handsome and—“ you glare at him, and he sighs, “c’mon sweetheart, just tell me—“

“Who is Mei Mei to you?” your question surprises him, but seems to surprise you more, words falling from your lips without a first thought, much less a first, “I-I mean, uh—“

And he can’t help the grin that spreads over his lips — “I didn’t take you for the jealous type, sweetheart,” and your words failed you for once, “or maybe I should be calling you, Princess, because being jealous isn’t usually so sweet,”

“Satoru—“

“Except maybe when it’s you,” he takes a step forward, and fuck, you look so cute like this — your eyes unable to meet his with the usual defiance or smugness, teeth baring down on his bottom lip, “think you’d be sweet no matter what you do,”

“I’m not jealous—“

“Uh-huh,” he smirks, “Mei Mei is just an old friend and tycoon of business — and she tends to have a night out to discuss opportunities and investment into education for a mutual benefit—“

“She wants a tax break?” And he nods, but your brow furrows, “then what was with the shoulder touch?”

“The shoulder touch?” and you click your tongue.

“She touched your shoulder, intimately,” and he raises an eyebrow, “it was! It was like this,” your fingers gesture over his shoulder, your thumb barely grazing over his shoulder blade.

He tilts his head, “That’s what you consider intimate?”

“Yes! Like,” you step forward, and he refuses to let his breath catch, but your perfume floods his senses, fingers nearly twitching to touch you — but he can’t, yet that makes it all the more tempting. Your fingers ghost over his shoulder, featherlike almost, and heat floods his body as if it’s his first time being touched by another — and it wasn’t, but it was his first time being touched by you.

“Like this,” and your words warm his skin, and it would be so easy to touch you — give you a taste of intimacy, and show that the only touch he craved was your own.

“I think I missed it, could you show me again?” he can’t help but tease when it’s so easy to do when you’re like this, “aw, come on, Professor, isn’t this supposed to be a hands-on lesson?”

Your body is far too close, yet too far all the same — had you managed to create the very phenomenon he had failed to study?

Your eyes finally found his, a spark of want that was only another match struck for the kindling, and your fingers drifted to his cheek. And he couldn’t help but lean into your touch, flames licking at his skin, but it was a burn he wanted more of, one he wished could consume him.

He leaned closer—until a group of people passing by, rowdy and drunk, made you flinch apart. And the moment was broken, flames extinguished—“I should go,” you murmur, and he nods, both of you taking a step back, “but if you’re not too busy falling asleep at keynotes, come to room 188 at 11:00 AM — I’m on a panel,”

“And you want me to come ask all the hard questions?” A smile graces your pretty lips, one he wishes he could memorize and map with his fingers — because it’s your smile and he’s the one who made you smile like that.

“I expect nothing less,” you turn to go inside as he calls after you.

“Was that a compliment?” and you cast a gaze over your shoulder yet again.

“Like I said, if and when I compliment you, you won’t need to ask that, Professor,” and with a flash of your smile, you were gone, and he was left outside in the humid air of the summer and the distinct sounds of cicadas and faint laughter and chatter of people outside the hotel. His fingers brushed against his shoulder, the ghost of your lingering touch still haunting him in the best way.

The flames were out, but the spark was still there — and that’s all you both needed.

For now.

Fuck, he was late — and this time not on purpose.

Usually there was nothing more Satoru would like than to be late for a moderated panel — it was an excuse to skip altogether, to get lunch, a treat, a drink — anything other than sit through another session of educators and researchers alike stroking their own egos. But this was different.

It was for you.

He tugged off his crooked and badly tied tie and stuffed it in his pocket, sprinting to the conference room where you said you would be doing the panel. He had to oversleep — but it really was your fault. He couldn’t get to sleep, not after last night. The scent of your perfume still clung to him tauntingly, the phantom of your touch still haunted him, and the sight of your smile etched onto his eyelids each time he closed them.

He was so fucking screwed.

He wasn’t the time for sentimental bullshit. No, the world had bullied that deep inside of him, softness only reserved for the few friends he had and his students. But you had ripped it all to the surface. And now he was stuck moving at the same pace you were — a quantum coupling without the couple.

He gets to the door and he bursts in, a dramatic entrance much too loud for a conference. The room fell pindrop silence as all eyes stared at him. But his eyes, flitting like comets, finding their landing with you, and he would burn up in your atmosphere all the same with the glare on your face.

“Sorry, got a little lost,” he offers a small smile, before taking his seat, his eyes unwavering from you.

The moderator clears his throat, turning his nose up at Satoru, “Well, let us continue,” he turns to you, “you were saying, Doctor?”

Oh, a doctor.

He leans back in his chair, how was it you got so much hotter? If that was possible somehow.

“I was explaining our current understanding of Hawking radiation, the theoretical thermal black-body radiation that releases out a black hole and its theorized to cause black hole evaporation,” and yet as you spoke, he felt himself grow hot, a slight flush settling over his cheeks — he was right when he guessed astrophysics was your specialty. And he should have known you would have been an expert while he was at it — how could you not be? Even now your lips and tongue formed sentences he could only dream of making, and he did dream of your lips before.

“There are many unknowns about quantum fields and electromagnetism, especially regarding black holes in particular — one of the counters to electromagnetism—” the other speakers go on to interject and bristle at one another, but Satoru barely hears any of it all — too preoccupied with you.

You were far too pretty for your own good — how was no one else completely distracted, shifting in his seat as he carefully adjusted himself — and turned on.

“And now we open it up to the audience,”

The first few questions are fielded by the others and then the one of the last questions is for you. A person stands from the audience, fiddling with the question card they had in their hand, “when you were speaking about electromagneticism, you said there are many mysteries still — there is a theory called the law of attraction,” there’s a few distinct murmurs and even a few chuckles, but even so Satoru still finds himself looking at you, “they say the energy you put out into the world is electromagnetic waves, and when that interacts with the quantum field, which helps you attract what you’re looking for, what do you think of this theory?”

And for the first time, your eyes find his, the corner of your lips tugging upwards, before your gaze settles back on the audience.

“I don’t think there’s anything in physics that can explain what brings something or someone into your life,” you lean back in your chair, “if it were that simple, I think a lot more physicists wouldn’t be married to their labs,” Satoru snorts, and you garner a few chuckles from the audience, “but although all that stuff about quantum fields and electromagnetic waves isn’t rooted in physics, I think there’s something to figuring out what you want and letting yourself have it,” and he found your eyes on him again, and he wondered if he could let himself have you — even if he felt like he didn’t quite deserve you.

And his phone buzzed in his pocket, he glanced at the name and groaned — why was Ijichi calling him now? He lets it go to voicemail, but then messages come through.

Four-Eyed Annoyance: please reply. I have some news for you about the department head.

He bites his lip, but hauls himself to his feet, slipping out right as the panel wraps up. He presses the callback button and grumbles as Ijichi picks up, “this better be good or I’ll slap the shit out of you when I get back—“

“Huh?” Ijichi cried, aghast, “you told me to call once I had news,” and Satoru groaned.

“Just spit it out,” he sighed, rubbing his head.

“The department head said they would like to see you attend the mixer for professors in the department — a chance to meet you more informally — it’s the day after you return,” and Satoru scrubbed a hand down his face, and a chance to grill him about his failed research, “I thought you should know so you could prepare—“

He spots you disappearing around the corner, and hes curses under his breath, “Ijichi, you’re in for a serious slap later,” and the man doesn’t have time to react before Satoru cuts the phone. Great, not only was his career definitely in jeopardy, without a buffer to bullshit, but now — he rounds the corner, following after you, but in the throngs of people he doesn’t see you — he had lost you.

He shoves his phone back in his pocket. Not that he really deserved you.

~~~

Satoru doesn’t see you for the rest of the day — he didn’t know how long he spent waiting for you at the bar, About how long it takes him for the bar to close his tab and the bartender to shoo him away, until he meanders back to his room. Were you upset? You had noticed he came in late and then he left before it was over—and now he hadn’t seen you. And he couldn’t even ask you because he hasn’t seen you and he doesn’t even have your number—

Because he was an idiot, who wanted to play coy, instead of being direct.

He strips off his shirt, undoing the buttons one by one, a heavy sigh caught in his throat, as he tosses the button down onto the desk chair nearby, knocking over his bag and spilling papers onto the floor.

Great. Was this supposed to be some grand metaphor for his life? He knelt down to collect them, maybe he should call Suguru and have him give him some philosophy bullshit to make him feel better. He picked up something scrunched underneath the papers, and it was a napkin — but not just a used one.

Well not exactly.

One free pass to take what you want.

He snorts at your scrawled handwriting — for how perfect he thought you were, your handwriting certainly wasn’t.

He continues to pick up the rest of the things scattered on the ground until he finds the cover sheet for his research. Messy doodles littered the sheet — ones he had messily scratched in frustration — including one of his own face breathing fire.

He presses his hand to his lips, how was he going to turn this into something remotely useable? The basis of research was that most of it never leads to great revelations or huge discoveries — it was a domino effect of building upon other research and one study tips it over. And research was also about framing — about seeing what was there and making something of it.

He was flipping through his research — and he pauses at a particular page that had the tables of his research, the one he had ruminated over for nights and days, but now — it seemed far less daunting.

You do have a way of making me look at things from a different angle.

Your words fill his ear, as if you were there whispering it to him — a different angle. He pulls his laptop out and gathers the papers in his hands before he pockets the napkin you had written on.

Maybe that’s just what he needed.

~~~

You had avoided him.

It was so fucking embarrassing. What were you? A rejected teenager hiding from her crush? And you down another drink at the bar, the alcohol burning down your throat as if it could erode away the words you had said during the panel.

But it couldn’t.

It shouldn’t have happened. The moment the night before, with his lips a breath away that hung like a promise in the air — if magnetism existed between two people, it was in that moment — because you never felt so drawn to someone, as if there were actual magnets between you both. But as much as magnets attract, they could also repel just as well.

And you supposed, as you swirled the bits of your drink with your ice melting at the bottom of the glass, that was what had inspired him to run after your little show. You hated being a fool — but you hated not taking a risk more — you drank the rest of the watered-down drink before setting the glass down — so you had made the right decision.

So, why did you still feel like shit? You hiccuped slightly, the buzz now settling into a haze over your head, clear thoughts lost in a slight fog.

It might be the alcohol.

But even so you ordered another drink, pushing the empty one forward, avoiding the bartender’s dubious gaze. What was it about this man?

You didn’t know the first thing about him — aside from the fact he was a professor, just as you were, and his first name was Satoru—and fuck, you didn’t even catch his last name. But you knew how his lips curled into a smile that was far too infectious, that he was flippant to a fault but he only used it to hide his vulnerabilities, and that for someone so intelligent and knew of his own abilities — he found his own failures and shortcomings unforgivable.

But you wanted to forgive all the same — even now.

Even after not seeing him, and avoiding this very bar like the plague for the last day and a half. But now, it was the last night of the conference, and you don’t know what possessed you to be here — but you did — it was him.

“Come here often?” your eyes don’t need to look up from the drink placed in front of you by the bartender to know who it is, “let me have what she’s having,”

You raise an eyebrow, “This isn’t the fruity mocktail you prefer,” and he slips into the stool beside you, his arm brushing your own, as the bartender heaves a sigh at the sight of you two, “think you can handle it?”

“Well even if I can’t, I have you to take care of me, don’t I?” and you snort, licking the salt rim of your glass, before washing it down with the drink, “c’mon sweetheart, I thought you were opening yourself up to me,” and you choke on it, a distinct heat settling over your cheeks and it wasn’t from the liquor.

You choose your words carefully, as you wipe your mouth with a napkin, “I did, but that was before someone ran out,” and you wish your words significantly less slurred.

He bites his lip, “would you believe that it was a life threatening emergency and only I, Satoru—“ and you cut him off with a glare, and he sighs, “I’m sorry, I got tied up on a call and by the time I had finished, you were gone,”

“And here I thought my little soliloquy scared you off,” you mutter, “but a phone call? Was it a life threatening emergency?” The bartender comes with two drinks for the both of you.

“Not exactly, it was about my research. Found out my department head wants to meet with me right when I get back,” but his lips were curled in a smile, until he lifted his drink to his lips and took a sip, a grimace replacing it.

“You don’t seem like you’re dreading it anymore,” you sip your own drink, pressing the cool glass to your too-hot cheeks, alcohol roasting you from the inside out.

“Well, someone said I had a knack for looking at things from a unique angle,” he gives you a grin, “so I just did what I did best,”

“I see that ego of yours has recovered,” and his gaze catches yours, “I’m glad this conference was good for something at least,”

“I don’t think that’s all it was good for,” and your eyes can’t pull away from his — a current that sparked between your gazes that only wished to pull you closer than further apart, “you’re selling it short — moderated panels, the workshops, the stale coffee, the networking opportunities,” and his fingers brushed yours, “what’s not to love?”

And any sluggishness from your intoxication is chased away by his touch, a live wire pressed to your skin, “Networking?” You repeat, the warm brush of his fingers against your skin feather-like, “what chances have you had to network?”

He decides to down his drink, a flinch as he swallows, “Not many, well, not many that hadn’t ended without people glaring or fleeing,” you snort, but still liking his thumb rubs across the length of your knuckles, “but the ones that went well have been more than satisfactory,” your eyes flit to his hand and then to his lips, before settling to his gaze.

“And you’re satisfied? With the conference?” you add, and it’s a dangerous game to play, fingers curling around his as if by instinct, a current completed by its circuit, and you were needlessly addicted to the feeling.

He hums, in mock contemplation, as he leans closer, until your knees brush, “Not completely, but that’s because I don’t think I’ve taken what I want yet,” and he pulls a napkin from his pocket, handing it to you, and you see your words scribbled on there.

And you know it’s already far too late for you.

You’re close. Too close — as you can see the specks of dark blue that you could map like constellations in his eyes and you were sure his cologne was melting every brain cell that told you this was a bad idea, and leaving only behind need — but still you spoke.

Your fingers brushed his as you took the napkin, next words far too breathless for your own good, as if the spark between you had caught fire from your touch and sucked the oxygen from your little bubble — and you were just waiting for it to burst.

But it didn’t. Instead, he leaned closer, a breath away, fingers cupping your cheek, “can I?” And you nod nearly out of reflex, and he kisses you — despite the alcohol, you can taste the hint of sugar from the sweets he undoubtedly had before. It’s chaste and much too brief, but you two fall into a second as if it’s second nature.

“Well, are you going to take it?”

“This is a such a fucking bad idea,” you manage to huff out right as the elevator doors close, but not before Satoru has you pressed to the mirrored wall of the elevator, “we shouldn’t do this—“

But all the same, your hand cupped his cheek, mapping the contours and curves of his jaw until it melted into his hairline, fingers running through his soft white locks with reverence, and his cheeks are flushed red, and even warmer than they look, “did one drink affect you this much?” you chuckle, and he pouts, drawing a full laugh from your lips, “oh this is definitely a bad idea,” not only because both of you were drunk, but he was far too cute to resist.

His eyes flutter close for a moment at the sensation of your touch, lips parted as he relished in your touch — and when had he been touched so softly before? Your noses bump, as the heat is engulfed in honey for a moment, caught between breaths.

“I have nothing but good ideas, Princess,” his nose brushes your cheek, as he inhales — fuck, how did you smell like everything sweet, even after a full day of conferences and two hours at a rundown hotel bar, “you may be my best one yet.”

“Flattery, Professor?” And his lips dare closer to yours again, as the elevator finally reached his floor, “you’ll have to do better than that,”

And as he steps forward out the elevator, fingers finding yours, he grins, cheeks warm from intoxication — and whether that’s the alcohol or you is a mystery. “Y’know I’d do just about anything for you, sweetheart.”

You follow him out, as he leads you to his room, tugging you along as your lips curl, “Anything?”

He catches a glimpse at the wicked curve of your lips as you grin while he unlocks the door, that curve soon pressed against his neck, and he knew he wanted nothing more than to be pulled into your orbit — because there isn’t a thing you could do to repel him.

“This isn’t—“ Satoru bites his lip, as he watches you sink to your knees, a shaky gasp parting those same lips, spit slick from your kiss, as you dragged your thumb down the kiss-ruined flesh, “what I had in mind when you said anything,” his words are slurred, and you’re seeing the glow settle over his cheeks, making you only want to litter the red flush with kisses.

“I see why you don’t drink often if one drink does this to you,” your nose bumps against his, “we don’t have to do this if you’re—“

“I’m fine, I promise,” he cuts you off gently, his fingers closing around your wrist, before bringing your hand against his cheek, “I don’t want to stop, please,” and your thumb rubs along his cheekbone, “do you need me to solve an equation? Motion? Velocity? Force?”

You snort, your fingers ghosting over his jaw, “There’s something else I’d rather do,” and you undo the button of his slacks, “or someone,” and his lips curl — which only makes you want to wipe it off his face, until his lips are only parted with your name on his tongue.

You had stripped him down to his boxers, every button of his shirt undone painfully slow, as your fingers ghosted up and down every inch of exposed skin, “such a good boy, Satoru,” you had murmured, as you finally had reached the last button of his shirt, choosing to kiss your way up his stomach and chest — and fuck, it was hard enough not to blow his load then and there, “gonna make you feel good, baby,” your hand slid up his body, dragging over his chest, and onto his cheek until sliding into his hair again, tangling in the locks before you tugged, hard, drawing a pretty gasp from his lips and sending a wave of heat throbbing between his thighs, “but not before you earn it,”

You take a step back, his hands twitching as they reach for you, “Just watch,” You strip slowly, your jacket already tossed aside, as you undo the buttons of your blouse torturously slow, as your lips curl at the sight of his pout.

Muscles winded and tense like a spring ready to snap at your word, but you didn’t let him, and when you step out of your slacks, his boxers strained against his erection, a dark patch over taut pulled fabric, “look at you, I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already about to rip through your boxers?” You click your tongue.

And your careful steps back to the bed have him swallowing thickly, resisting the urge to bite his lip as he watches you, “Please,” he’s murmuring, “please, baby,”

God, he looks too fucking pretty begging, and you were only that much sure he would look prettier with tears in those eyes of his, whimpers and moans parting those pretty pink lips.

“Please what?” you leaned closer, your knees pressing his legs apart, brushing against his inner thighs, teasingly close to where he wanted them most, “gonna have to use some of those big words you got your degrees with, Satoru,”

Your knee grazes his clothed bulge, “Fuck—“ your fingers find his undercut with ease, nails grazing the nape of his neck as you did, a delicious shiver running up his spine. He was so sensitive for all the bravado he had — for how intelligent he was, how high he held himself, it only took a few of your touches to reduce him to this.

And fuck, it was so hot.

“Not that word,” your hand draws up and down his thigh, tracing the muscle, before drawing a path over the elastic of his boxers, “tell me what you want — my fingers? My mouth?” Your fingers dip inside his boxers only to snap the fabric against his skin, earning a sharp hiss and a jerk of his hips.

His eyes flicker up to your lips, and you know what he wants, but you’re still waiting to hear the words, “your mouth,” and you tilt your head expectantly, “please,”

“Good boy,” you don’t miss the way his dick twitches at the praise, as your fingers tug his boxers down, pooling around his ankles. His cock slaps against his stomach, pretty precum dripping down his length — and how’s it possibly that his dick is as gorgeous as the rest of him? Pretty red tip that melted into a blush pink length, lovely veins that wrapped around as if it was made just for you. And you didn’t believe in the law of attraction — but you knew you’d welcome his dick inside you anytime.

You sink to your knees, and the sight must be pretty by the way his gaze grows dark, “Like the idea of me on my knees for you?”

“Can’t I like the idea of using that smart mouth for something other than a verbal lashing, sweetheart?” And your tongue darts out to lick the precum from his tweeting tip, making his head loll back.

“You can,” and your fingers ghost over his balls, “but don’t forget who’s in control, Satoru,”

You press a kiss to his slit, before letting the length slap on your tongue. And already his chest is already heaving, as your fingers curl around the base, slowly pumping and smearing precum along his dick. You hear the crumple of the sheets as he grasps at them.

“You’re so fucking big — can’t wait to feel you inside me, g’nna feel s’good,” and a pretty moan parts his lips, hips bucking into your touch, boneless nearly, as you watch his precum slip down your fingers and wrist, “does it feel that good?” your teasing only draws a pout to his lips that’s quickly fading into another moan as you thumb at his slit, making him whine, “so fucking whiny,” you goaded, but no snark can find it’s way from his lips.

“F-fuck, sweetheart, can you blame me?” And your lips curl, as his tip bumps against your lips, dragging precum along them, “you’re gonna be the death of me,”

“And you’d thank me for it,” and you finally let his cock slip past your lips, and his mouth falls open, muscles tense as he feels his length settle along your tongue, until it’s tracing up the bottom, flicking against the tip.

“F-fuck, baby, you take me so well,” and you do, so fuckinh pretty as your head bobs along his length, messily sucking and licking, cock growing impossibly larger, just as his tip grazes your throat, “shit, ngh,” and he’s threading his fingers into your locks, beginning to buck his hips so that his swollen tip bumps against your throat, even deeper.

His lewd groans send a wave of head straight to your needy core, and you can’t wait, a hand slipping up to grasp at his waist, but the other slips into your panties and your fingers brush against your drenched folds.

You’re a fucking vision when he glances down to watch his white pubes brush against your face, half spit and half pre dribbling from the corner of your mouth. He’s practically fucking your mouth at this point, tears slipping down your cheeks, he’s not sure if he’s drunk from the alcohol or from his cock anymore. And when he sees your fingers buried in your cunt, fucking yourself because sucking him off was too much—it was too late.

“F-fuck, not g’nna last much longer, need—“ but that only makes you suck around his length, letting his tip hit your throat, and his nails dig into your scalp, as he finally cums, hard, your name on his lips. Thick ropes of his cum paints your mouth, hot release burning down your throat. You swallow every drop, relishing in the soft groan of your name that leaves his lips, enough for you to hit your sweet spot with your three fingers stuffed in your cunt before cumming.

You’re panting around his cock nearly as you pull your mouth off, strings of spit and cum stick to your lips and his dick, as you hear the creak of the mattress as he lies back against the bed, probably too fucked out to think. And you’re getting to shaky feet after easing your fingers out, ready to have him taste your own juices. But no, you can’t.

He was too fucked out to be conscious.

“Satoru?” You asked slowly, but you were only met with soft snores and the easy rise and fall of his chest that told you he was asleep.

Well fuck.

~~~~

Satoru never drank. And it was for good reason.

He always felt shitty afterwards. Headaches, nausea, and body aches. And that didn’t account for the side effect that had afflicted him the most — regret. The events of the night flash through his mind, a slideshow movie of the worst kind as he shoots up in bed to find himself alone in bed. He glances around, rest of his body still frozen in place, as if he had stopped moving, you wouldn’t see him.

But no, you wouldn’t see anything — because you weren’t here.

Not a single sign of you. The bedside beside him empty, and no trace of your clothes left behind — you had left. His eyes flickered to the time, 10:00 AM, far too early this morning. But what had you expected? He scrubs a hand down his face, cheeks burning — especially when he had cum down your throat and then had thanked you for it by passing out like a virgin.

And still he woke up hard. He glared down at the erection tenting in the blanket, as if it was the reason for his own downfall, but it didn’t have the courtesy of falling down itself.

Oh, he was never going to live this down.

And then the phone rang, and his heart leaped, likely bumping against his ribcage, as he reached for the hotel phone, wondering if it could possibly be—

“Hello? Is this Mr. Gojo?” The receptionist asks.

No, of course. Perfect.

“Yes, this is him,” he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, this day could only get better, couldn’t it?

“I’m calling to remind you that you had selected the early check out time, and your check out time is in exactly an hour, and we are unable to extend it due to other guest check-ins,”

He shouldn’t have bothered to hope.

A frantic packing job and harried check out, he had slumped in his taxi to the train station. He didn’t even get your number. And he scoffs at the thought, like you’d give it to him after last night. He leans against the cool glass of the window, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone to see you that night. Maybe it would have been better to stop. But the two of you were always in motion — night by night rushing by each other, and last night was no different.

But now you both are still in motion — just not together.

And maybe it was better that way. But if so, his eyes open to take in rushing outside, why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?

~~~

Satoru forgot how much he hated this department.

Satoru found himself sipping his drink by the makeshift bar again. He had waded through the questions of the other professors, wanting to know the details of his research. He saw the sharp gazes behind plastered smiles, and they were just hoping to learn something to tell the new department head. But he told them nothing, hiding his smirk behind the rim of his glass at their sour glances. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

And then he spots a familiar figure.

“Oi,” Ijichi tensed at the sound of Satoru’s voice, he makes his way to Satoru’s side, “I thought you said the department head would be here,”

“She’s on her way. She got stuck in a meeting. Haven’t you been checking your email?”

“Who checks their email when they’re away?”

And Ijichi mutters under his breath, “People who are actually responsible,”

Satoru glances at him, “That reminds me, didn’t I owe you a slap?” And Ijichi squeaks in terror, before he takes a step back, as his phone goes off.

“The department head is on her way now,” and Satoru raised an eyebrow.

“Her?” And Ijichi frowned.

“Have you really not checked your email the entire time you’ve been away? The new department head’s name was announced months ago, and she’s sent consistent emails, and Satoru runs his hand through his hair.

“I’ve had all department emails sent to spam,” and Ijichi gapes at him, as Satoru pulls his phone out and opens his spam folder, scrolling through the hundreds of unread emails, “what’s her name?”

And just then the doors open, and he wonders if he’s dreaming, if he’s back in that hotel room again and he would wake up any second beside you.

But he doesn’t, as your eyes find his, stepping through the crowd of other professors, as Ijichi steps forward, “Ma’am, this is—“

“I know,” you smile, before your eyes slide back to his, “come here often?”

And he knew he was far too deep already.

✧ a/n: this took so long to write — I thought I would be done last week but I was not haha. I hope you guys enjoy. there will be a part two! I have plotted out part of it. thank you guys for being so kind :)

✧ taglist: @dazailover1900, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @satorusmochis, @dreamtardisspace, @mixmatcheds, @kxouri, @kakashineedstotouchgrass, @happystrawberrytyrant, @mynahx3, @destinyrosexoxoxo, @iwannaeatthewolrd, @parkeronii, @nanasukii28, @9419x, @5sos-wdw, @zeee26, @saintlesssaint, @forest-fruits-jam, @cowgirlcujoh, @somrou, @satowooo, @buddhas-bunny, @spider-fan72, @daintyfaintyy, @flyingtranscatofeffed, @nightfloweruponahill, @xxemmarldxx, @hanxyy, @caramelmac-chiato, @faeryli, @penutjuice, @waterfal-ling, @buttercupblu143, @ilikeweedalot, @amy-chaan, @johannakhalafalla, @alexithemiyatic, @theshylittleelfgirl, @kittykattysstuff, @shervinss, @catsgomurp, @notgoodforlife, @anth0nyx, @caelestine-the-caelicatto, @fackeraccount, @fushitoru, @svt-backup, @suguwife, @mua-for-now,

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #Jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #gojo fanfiction #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #sab [prof gojo]

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nanaslutt · 1 year ago

Note

What do u think of Gojo begging you to give him a handjob and promising he wont cum during NNN but surprise surprise he fails so u ruin his orgasm 🤯

I think YES???? this was insanely fun to write, tysm for the ask nonnie<33

tell me why i forgot nnn was a thing LOLLL

contains: fem reader, crack, handjobs, whiney!satoru, established relationship, cumming handsfree, ruined orgasm, failed edging, begging, gojo calls you 'ma'am ' once as a joke, 'baby' and 'princess' used for reader

2k words :p

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

"Baby pleeeeease." gojo whines, laying his head on your knees from where he sits between your legs on the carpeted floor,

"Satoru, you were just begging me last month to not let you cum during November no matter what." you sighed, he does this every year, making you swear up and down that you'll hold him accountable and not let him lose NNN, hearing from geto that if you last the whole month, the orgasm on December first was mind-numbing

of course, he wouldn't know, becasue every year he came crawling to you about how stupid this challenge was, barely a week into the challenge, and he was dragging you to the nearest surface and fucking you against it, filling your guts with his cum,

but not this time, miraculously he had held out this long, only eight days before the challenge was over. he of course had you to thank for thank, deep down you knew he really did want to complete this challenge, and thats why he was so insistant every time the dreaded month came around.

but Satoru was a slut for pleasure, especially for the kind of pleasure he got from you. Whether it was your hands, mouth, cunt, he could get off using any part of your body and he would be the happiest man on earth

"I won't cum, swear, just miss your hands on me baby pleeeease," he practically cried, hugging onto your knees, turning his face into your skin whining and groaning like a spoiled child,

"Toru, you and I both know you do not have enough self-restraint to just edge yourself," knowing him better than himself

together, you guys have tried edging, Satoru never being able to make it past the first time you stopped right before he came, once again saying how stupid this was, quickly fucking his cock back into you and bringing himself to the brink of orgasm using your body, cumming with no restraint, even though he was once again the one who brought the idea to you,

"I'm starting to think you might have commitment issues," you mumble under your breath, his fake cries and obnoxious pouting pulling you out of your thoughts, phone dropping by your side, looking down at him with a huff,

"Please, all you gotta do is rub my cock a little, just for a second please," he drags out the please once more, lip sticking out in a pout as he looks up through his snowy lashes at you, "jus wanna feel you please, it's been so long, need it, baby, please."

shutting your eyes and sighing once again, unable to deny him any longer with him being so persistent, especially when he asks you so nicely, looking up at you with those beautiful eyes of his,

"oh my goddd Satoru, okay, fine." you shake your head, slapping your hand over your face, and he perks up, immediately abandoning his spoiled rich kid act, leaving fat kisses all over your knees, "yes yes yes thank you, baby, promise I won't let you down,"

he stands up and you peek through the cracks in your fingers, hand still on your face and your jaw practically drops at the sight, he is already sporting a huge tent in the crotch of his grey sweats, smile stretching from ear to ear while he looks down at you,

"you're already hard?" you exclaim, disbelief plastered on your face, "feelin' on ur legs made me hard," he says nonchalantly, the expression on your face not changing, "now up you go!" leaning down he scoops you up from under your arms and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, "woah! toru!" you exclaim, caught off guard as he takes long strides to your bedroom

strong hold on the underside of your knees as he hums, making his way through the hallway, finally reaching his destination and plopping you down in front of him on the hard floor, "how do ya want me your majesty?" he smirks, hands in his pockets waiting for your direction, "jus' go lay down on the bed you freak," pushing his solid chest back towards the king mattress,

putting on a show as he faux stumbles backward, flopping back on the bed, fluffy white hair on the pillows, putting one hand behind his head, the other coming down to rub himself over his sweats, "don't leave me waiting princess" biting his lip, lips corners of his lips curling up into a flirty smile,

"stop fucking touching yourself," you sigh, "gonna cum before I even get my hands on you." You're feeling undeniably aroused yourself, you and Gojo have a very active sex life, never going weeks without touching each other unless he is away on a mission. since he made quite the effort with the challenge this time around (largely thanks to you) you've been feeling pretty antsy, participation in the challenge yourself as a way of supporting him,

though there's no real pressure on you, if you wanted you could rub one out at any time. the only downside is that getting off on your own never felt as good as it did with Satoru,

he whistles, giving himself one last grope before his heavy hand joins the other behind his head, "yes ma'am" he says slightly teasing tone lacing his voice,

you crawled on top of him, resting your ass right above his knees, "remember Satoru, you're not going to cu-" he cuts you off, waving his hand in front of you, rolling his eyes, "yeah yeah, not gunna cum, I got it," he says snarkily, a little too snarky for someone who was quite literally on his knees begging you to touch his stupid cock, but you digress,

narrowing your eyes at him before sliding your slender fingers over his upper thighs, over his hips, teasing his lower stomach, barely grazing his twitching clothed cock on the way back down, repeating the process a couple of times, sometimes opting to skip over running your fingers over his cock altogether

his jaw is slightly slack, watching your hands intently, "cmon, don't be a tease baby," he sighs, pushing his hips off the bed towards you, "You're in no place to make demands right now," staring into his intimidating eyes challengingly,

he bites his lip, shutting his mouth, awaiting your move, pushing his shirt up, resting right under his pecs as you tease your fingers on the short white hairs of his happy trail, right above the hem of his pants,

smile now off his face, looking concentrated as he bites his lip harshly, eyes darting back between your fingers and pretty face, looking so concentrated on what you were doing,

your cunt was aching to feel him inside you, trying to push your own needs out of your brain, feeling nearly impossible as you exposed more and more of his happy trail the more you teased down his pelvis,

finally grabbing the fabric of his pants and sliding them down his incredibly toned thighs, he lifted his hips, aiding you in undressing him, his breathing started to pick up when you looked closely at his cock straining under his boxers

staring at a dark spot where his pre was leaking from his tip under his briefs, trying not to roll your eyes back when he made his cock jump. taking your index finger and rubbing it on the wet patch on the head of his dick, drawing little circles around it, his breath hitching, breathing picking up slightly watching you pull your finger back slowly, a string of cum connecting the two of you,

giving his boxers the same treatment, slipping your fingers underneath the hem and sliding them down, his hips raising again to make your job easier, and he's grinning so hard when your jaw drops open, watching his flushed cock slap back against his tummy, flexing the appendage again, putting on a show for you,

"your cock is so pretty Toru," you marvel, squeezing your thighs together so you can focus on the task at hand, "ur leaking so much," finger tapping his angry head a couple of times, proving your point as the cum makes little 'plap' 'plap' sounds when your finger comes in contact with him,

"There's so much it looks like you already came," you tease, finally wrapping your hand around his warm tip, hips leaving the bed once more to slide into your hand, "hips on the bed please Satoru," you correct, muscles in his thighs and abs flexing as you feel him connect his ankles together behind you,

starting to give him steady shallow pumps and his jaw is slack, eyes rolling back when you twist your wrist over the head of his neglected dick, "fuuuuck baby, just what I needed," he breathily laughs out a smile, "a little faster please," he requests, both hands leaving their place behind his head to grip the sheets by his sides,

"let me know when you feel close," you instruct, waiting to see him nod in acknowledgment before pumping your hand a little faster, sliding effortlessly up and down his cock with vulgar wet sounds thanks to his leaky cock,

"yesyesyes s-shit, squeeze harder," breaths entering and leaving his lungs rapidly as he tips his head back into the pillows, when you follow his instructions he lets out a long groan, abs clenching more frequently, your body jolting a bit every time he fidgeted his legs around the sheets behind you,

breathing heavily yourself, free hand coming down to press against the heat between your thighs, a temporary relief as you tried to memorize his every reaction he gives you,

"you close Satoru?" you question, noticing his breath come in shorter pants, warm cock twitching and straining against your hands, his thighs. tensing and unsensing more frequently, all telltale signs of his impending orgasm, "I asked you a question," you emphasized with a strong squeeze at the base of his lengthy cock, "n-no, not close yet, promise," he bites his lip, keeping his eyes screwed shut, sheets between his fingers practically ripping before you continue,

choosing to believe him you keep up the previous pace, squeezing your fingers tight around the tip of his cock on the downstroke and that's when you notice one of his hands abandoning his grip on the poor sheets to cover his mouth, his moans reaching a crescendo, and you know exactly whats happening

He's going to cum, and he lied to you about it

jerking your hand up his cock once more before you let go completely, anticipating his moves when he shoots his head up, hands reaching for his cock and you catch his wrists, pining them above his head, if he had half a mind he would break out of your grip with ease, but he was milliseconds from cumming, not having his usual strength coursing through his body,

"no! Nononono," he's protesting when his back arches, curling in on itself, legs thrashing under your weight as his cock dribbles out long spurts of cum, twitching and throbbing with every string, "Fuuuuck nooo, no, ughhh," he groans at you for ruining his orgasm, whole body twitching,

dick starting to soften in his own mess against his lower abs,

"you seriously thought you were gonna get away with that? you asked in an incredulous tone, hes pouting, letting out a long groan of your name before tipping his head forward and making eye contact with you,

"That was sooo mean" he pouts, "ive been saving that load..." he whines out, cock still twitching in the aftershocks,

"what was mean, is when I asked if you were gonna cum and you lied straight to my face," you spat, laughing in disbelief, swinging your legs off his torso while his eyes follow your figure, watching you wipe your hands using a tissue from the box you keep on the bedside table, he groans out your name again, "I'm sorryyyy, was feeling sooo good," he tries to justify

giving him a look that screams are you actually serious right now, as you start towards the door, "sounds like you need a pussyban to me," you deadpan, walking through the doorframe out into the hallway,

"WOAH!! woah, woahwoahwoah," practically teleporting his feet on the floor, hastily pulling up his pants as he chases you out of the room, hot on your trail, "baby! baby, haha, let's not do anything drastic now, kay?" he baffles in disbelief, worry laced in his voice.

6K notes · View notes

satoruhour · 11 months ago

Note

Just thought of something FREAKY in class… Single father Satoru looking for a babysitter and you’re looking for a side income during semester break and the tension goes crazy!!!! “We should’t be doing this my son will wake up” I’M GONNA SCREAMMMM

BLISS, PURE BLISS

a/n: happy new year LMFAOOO. thank you for all the asks btw i promise ill answer them asap 🥹 / @shotorus @osaemu @shidouryusm @mysugu @hyomagiri ♱

wc: 6.4k

warnings: ‘onee-san’ used but more of just addressing reader as an older figure because saying babysitter is kinda weird lol (kind of like how chinese people use 姐姐 even if they are not related), fem!reader, dilf!gojo, age gap (gojo in his late 30s, reader in mid-20s), angst if u squint, bit of slow burn n tension, making out, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, praise, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, p -> v sex, multiple rounds, consensual filming, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

“no fucking way . .” you mumble mostly to yourself, standing in front of the largest house of the gated community in roppongi, and while you knew the people here were excessively and obnoxiously rich, you’re never quite prepared until you’re getting a key card specifically mailed to your name just so you could enter.

you’re not even shameful when you take a video to send to your best friends, locking your screen almost immediately because you knew you’d never get to the job on time if you replied to them. with calculated steps, you’re walking up the house that’s designed with a modern structure, yet still retaining characteristics of a traditional japanese home. it’s less prominent at the front of the house, though.

“(y/n)-san, was it?” a voice startles you out of your ogling sessions. if the garden was already this nice, what would be in store for you when you went in? you’ll be finding out soon when your employer himself opens the door to you, a man with striking white hair and equally striking blue eyes that seem to look right into you. he’s dressed in a suit, probably no doubt ready to get to work while you’re out here taking your time. you cringe, immediately walking up to the door.

“y-yes! yes, i’m sorry sir, i was just uhm—”

he holds that intimidating stare just for a moment but then he breaks into a smile that mirrors the bright sun that shines down on the porch.

“it’s alright . . it’s not everyday you’re working at some rich guy’s house, right?” he jokes but that strikes a little ick into you — he’s already ticking the boxes of obnoxious and excessively rich, but you hate the effect he’s having on you.

“yeah . . no, i guess,” he hums in reply before sticking a hand out.

“gojo satoru,” he introduces himself, “call me anything but that sir shit, alright, doll?”

you nod obediently, trying not to let the little pet name get to your head because he probably does this to any babysitter who comes through the house, but either way, he’s welcoming you in and it’s like you step into a world unreal. it’s spotless, the floors shining under the sunlight, a large television in the living room, a spacious open concept dining-kitchen area, and this is just the first floor.

gojo takes his time to show you the house — where his kid’s toys were, where the food was, where the bathrooms and bedrooms were, it was never-ending. every step you took made you feel like you were walking the length of the nile, each turn only revealing more rooms and corridors.

and then, finally, his baby boy.

“he’s a cheeky one, takes after his dad,” even with all the cockiness he’s shown to you, you can tell he has a soft spot for his kid. the boy stirs from his father’s voice, gleaming in happiness as he puts out his smaller hands to be picked up. as he settles into his arms, it’s just sinking in how tall your employer is. he makes a toddler look like a baby with how small his son looks wrapped snugly.

“satoshi, hi,” he whispers, bouncing the kid in his arms, “want to say hi to your onee-san?”

you manage a small wave but all he does is turn to hide in his father’s arms, definitely scared from a random stranger suddenly talking to him.

“she’s going to be taking care of you for the next month or so, you know?” he mumbles, brushing a hand through the matching white hair, “be nice to the babysitter, okay?”

all satoshi does is hum into his dad’s neck before he’s giving you a sheepish smile. “he’s like that, don’t worry about him.” and you return the smile, thinking that he wasn’t that obnoxious that you thought and that maybe he’s really a dad trying his hardest for his one kid. you realise he’s taking too much time, though, and so you sought out to remind him.

“oh, uh sir— gojo-san, don’t you have to go to work?”

although he’s mentioned satoshi to be taking after him, the boy goes right back to sleeping when he’s put back into his bed so you follow gojo as he adjusts his cuffs and smoothes out his collar just outside the room and you make the mistake of glancing upon the mirror on the far end of the corridor — it was undeniable that you looked like a high-end couple who’s newly married and raising a kid. you try to shake off the thoughts of adjusting his tie for him.

“it’s not being late if you’re on top.” he smirks and you resist the urge to roll your eyes; at least you weren’t alone in purging the delusional thoughts from your head, he was basically helping you at this point and you struggle between characterising him as conceited and admirable. “but, yeah, i should get going.”

but he stands at the door with backpack slung onto one shoulder while he continues to explain satoshi’s routines to you, his habits and also had to sneak in a few cute photos of the kid while squealing repeatedly and you’re left wondering how this guy could be the CEO of a company.

it’s been like that for as long as you can remember — bidding goodbye to your parents as you tell them that you’re off to your part-time job over the winter break. they’re happy you’re even leaving the house, shoving your lunch into your hands with big smiles that you’re at least doing anything other than sitting in your room. the train ride to the gated residential was nice, too, apart from the very crowded subways for people going to work in roppongi.

gojo greets you every morning when you arrive, reminding you of satoshi’s feeding times and his favourite shows and everything a father should know but don’t have the luxury to experience with aforementioned kid. it’s a little bittersweet, every time you see him kiss satoshi goodbye that turns into remaining in his room, to holding your hand and saying goodbye to daddy from the second floor, to getting carried by you at the front door.

it’s slow but sure progress day after day, from watching his cartoons, feeding him at the kitchen island, playing with his toys, that satoshi feels more and more comfortable with you, learning that while he was a well-behaved boy, he definitely had hints of your employer in him. mannerisms, words, voice, you wonder whether he even got any part of his mother in his genes.

you’d never ask, though, but it was told. unexpectedly.

“i’m home—” the last parts of his word die down into a whisper when he opens the door to see satoshi cuddled up to you, the last bits of home alone playing softly. by now you already know what happens in the movie so you’re texting your friends and laughing softly to yourself, jumping when your boss steps past the doorway. gojo winces when he checks his watch (“fuck. it’s already ten.”), toeing his shoes off and apologising simultaneously.

“oh— man, i’m so sorry, i had a late meeting with the CEO of our neighbouring franchise, i totally forgot about the time—” gojo’s quick to make his way down to the small pit of the house (he likes to call it the conversation pit), settling down on the side where satoshi had his head in your lap as his eyes linger on the movie. instinctively, his hands reach to pat his leg.

“oh, it’s okay, gojo-san, it’s the holidays anyway.”

“yeah?” he turns to you, one arm propped on the back of the sofa, “and why don’t a pretty girl like you have any plans?”

that catches you off-guard, among the many other times he’s called you pretty or sweets like no care in the world. you’re never quite used to it, too, seeking to fluster you. “you shouldn’t say stuff like that to me, gojo-san . .”

“why not?” he’s turned back to the television, now, and you take his place, staring at his side profile as the scenes of the movie move along his face. “i’m a single dad, aren’t i?”

“yeah but . . you could have anyone.”

“what if,” he turns and you chicken out, head snapping back to the front while he watches you and the both of you cannot deny the tiring dance you perform around each other all the time. the clench in his heart when he sees you carry his baby boy at the porch and the small smile he gives you every morning before he leaves for his job. he doesn’t want to go through with it and sighs.

it’s become hard to breathe around you. it’s become hard to hold himself back around you.

“i worked too much.” he suddenly says, facing the TV again. “i was too engrossed and . .”

confusion seeps in at first. yeah, it was no secret he worked his ass off despite being at the very top. your gaze falls to satoshi, curling more into your side like he’s cold and you adjust the blanket. you nod in recognition.

“we fought a lot. i tried— i tried to alter my schedule as much as i could, driving to and fro whenever she needed me, bringing satoshi to work as a baby when we couldn’t come to a compromise, but it was a lot. for her, for satoshi. he could sense whenever we were about to fight, on edge voices, items clattering to the floor . .”

by now, he’s leaned back, back of his hand resting on his forehead, “and he’d cry like he was interrupting us. cheeky, i told you,” and his eyes close, “we hardly reached middle ground. it was either this or that, hire a nanny or we take care of him, my endless job or the joy of life. i’m ashamed that i’ve prioritised my job more, and still do it now.”

“if you didn’t, i wouldn’t be here, would i?”

that draws a chuckle out of him, “correct.”

“she couldn’t take it, not when she was a businesswoman on top of that. she was out doing herself at every aspect in her job, going to greater heights, and while she accused me of putting work first, she isn’t entirely innocent, either. but that’s . .”

“you don’t have to say anything, gojo-san,” you mumble as you watch the reunion of the characters in the movie before the screen cuts the black, no doubt affecting him in some way at the warmth displayed by the movie that contrasts heavily with his situation, “the fact that you even told me is . .”

the heavy atmosphere is disrupted by satoshi gasping, “papa! you’re home.”

you exchange awkward smiles as you watch the boy fight his way out of the blanket to hug gojo, the latter huffing when the boy drops his body weight on him and you take it as a sign to give them a bit of privacy, standing up to clean up the popcorn and cups. laughter and your employer’s voice resonate throughout the place even as they go up the stairs, a rare occasion where gojo is able to get his son ready for bed.

it’s only maybe an hour later when the house falls into silence. mouth burning from the mouthwash, the heater in satoshi’s room turned to a high setting, one bedtime story was read (which, he fell asleep halfway), the boy was out like a light. you felt it inappropriate to leave without at least saying goodbye, but you also didn’t want to cut into their time together; at least, that’s what you told yourself.

so you waited with your things on the kitchen island, getting a risky text just as gojo comes down, still in his suit from work.

[11:02pm, nobara -> you] BITCH GET THAT DICKKKKK!!!!!!!

and you yelp softly, slamming your phone down onto his marble counter. thankfully, he doesn’t notice, eyes close to shutting from fatigue.

“oh, shit, you’re still here?”

“i thought it would be, weird, if i didn’t say goodbye,” you get ready to leave, slinging your tote bag on, “but i also didn’t want to intrude on your time with satoshi, limited as it is.” well, you did also wish something would happen, but you had too much pride to admit it to yourself.

“you got a ride home?” he yawns and you feel guilty for extending your stay already. you didn’t even need to worry about the front door, he lived in a gated community for christ’s sake!

“um, not really, but i can always book an uber home.”

“i’ll drive you home, it’s unsafe,” is all he says like he’s trying to convince himself, “let me just get changed and we can go.”

gojo doesn’t leave you any room to protest before he’s up the stairs again and you’re left with a pounding heart and dizzy head, not sure what might ensue. you know him to be honourable; you’ve seen him with his child, you’ve seen him interact with his neighbours, but a late ride with your boss sounds sketchy as it is.

but it doesn’t feel like it when you feel the tokyo wind blowing through your hair, a slight gap in the window bringing you the chills of the night as he silently drives you back home. sitting in your employer’s car most of all felt weird, but even more so when he’s reaching your home faster than the gps system had predicted. his knuckles are white.

“you—”

your head snaps to him, “yes?”

his car headlights are the brightest in the parking lot where every car is silent, quiet, much like his clammy hands and red cheeks. gojo satoru turns to you, feeling that familiar tug in his heart and lump in his throat for the first time in a while, and he can’t speak.

but you lean forward like your life depends on it and you leap inwardly when you see that he does the same. eyes trained forward, your stares boring into the other, waiting to see who’d close their eyes first. you just stop short of an inch, met with the hypnotising swirls of raging oceans in gojo’s eyes and you swallow when his eyes flit down to your lips and back up like he wouldn’t get caught.

with shaking hands, your fingers trace over his lips and you sigh when you feel just how soft they are, just like his skin, just like his eyes when they look at satoshi. your heart skips a beat when he just lightly kisses the pads of your fingers, and that encourages you to cradle his cheek, up his jaw, up his undercut.

“let’s just kiss, yeah?” he was afraid that if he spoke too loud, he’d shatter the glass, snap the string of tension, voice cracking until you swallow it, you stomach his nervousness with a lively, strong kiss from your lips to his, and he just melts.

gojo hums into the kiss, leaning forward over the stick shift and into the passenger seat before you counter it with your own movements: hand on his shoulders and pushing until you’re on his space of the driver’s seat and playing the game of tug that’s been going on for the past few weeks. you win.

“god, you’re so . .” gojo whines out when you climb onto him, whispering into your mouth while you get comfortable in your straddling position, cutting him off with a second, rougher kiss and you both moan softly, passion taking over in the evident way your arms scramble to wrap around him while he pulls you flush against his front.

the car is filled with sounds of your kissing, something that definitely shouldn’t be done in his home and yet you risk it all in your home’s parking lot. you break the kiss and hide in his neck, already starting the makings of a hickey there while your pelvis selfishly grinds into his front and he kneads your ass. in the mingling of breaths and moans, he’s left to stop the two of you when there’s a muffled ringtone coming from your bag and you swallow at the insanity of the situation.

“i’ll see you, monday, right?” gojo breathlessly says later, bulge still showing through his sweats while you hang outside the driver’s side, not wanting to leave. he takes your hand, planting a peck on it and then brings you in for another harmless kiss.

“yeah, gojo-san . . monday.”

you lose count of how many times you’ve swallowed throughout the night, but he says something to lift the mood just a bit.

“we just made out and you’re still calling me by my last name?”

you laugh lightly, “monday, satoru. i’ll be there, same time, on monday.”

gojo leaves a farewell kiss to the inside of your wrist, “attagirl.”

but if you’re not careful, it might just happen in satoru’s house.

the remainder of your employment at his house is tiring. it’s so hard not to kiss him before he leaves for work, so difficult not to long for him while you take care of satoshi, so entirely harrowing not to claim him as yours as you watch him play after his work. at this point, you’re hoping school will just start soon and the rush of assignments and readings will take your mind off of it, but you cannot deny the excitement every time you leave your house.

“you’ll bring food and cook every monday, wednesday, friday, and i’ll order food for the both of you every tuesday and thursday, how’s that?” gojo thinks it’s time to introduce him to larger pieces of food, but it’s gone past that by now and to your meal arrangements.

“i’m okay with cooking, though!” you assure him, and plus, you loved your parents’ home cooked bentos that they give you everyday, “do we gotta?”

“sorting out meals is tiring, (y/n),” gojo takes the place beside you, leaning against the counter just like you before drinking out of his cup, “i want to at least help at little.”

“you already are.” you smile, “i can see you making the effort.”

“it’s not enough, though, i could be doing better.”

gojo hates how this scene sets up — like two parents just figuring out the best for their kid — it’s a callback to the memory in the same exact kitchen. at least all you do is kiss and make out, because he wouldn’t know what to do if you moan out his name in that same intimate way that threatens his walls to come down again. he loved sex, he loved the bedroom, but he’s riding a thin line the way he’s doing with you.

“you are,” is everything that you say, and you leap forward to kiss him. you do it so hard that he has to put down the glass to fully embrace you, walking you backwards to the conversation pit and he carries you so effortlessly because he doesn’t want you walking backwards down some stairs.

he hates how you bring him into your lips, he hates how gently he lays you down, and he hates how you accept the kisses down your neck and body. you, on the other hand, aren’t doing so well, either — it’s either a hit or miss with a broken man like gojo satoru, and you’re stepping on glass shards hoping you don’t say anything wrong with him because he’s trying his best but he just can’t see it.

“are you okay with this?” he asks halfway down your torso and he gets lightheaded from how well his hands cover your waist. “tell me to stop, and i’ll stop.”

“n-no . . keep going, satoru.”

he exhales shakily at that, fingers tugging your top up and his hands are so cold you resist shivering, but you do anyway from the sheer fucking craziness that gojo drives you into. one pop of your button, and you’re already lifting your hips off the couch for him to remove your pants but movement on the stairs make you halt.

“papa?” satoshi calls out sleepily, rubbing his eyes and pouting. you can see it, almost, with how much time you’ve spent with the kid, and you hope he can’t see you. “i . . i had a nightmare and i just— i wanna sleep with you.”

he’s started sniffling and you feel your heart break that he knows his papa well enough to know he would never sleep in his room. his job always has him sleeping out in the living room.

go. you mouth, kissing your fingers and pressing it to his lips before he puts on a show — yawning, stretching his arms, already making satoshi feel at ease with his theatrics before he’s stopping at the foot of the stairs to look back at you. you already know gojo satoru has redeemed himself a hundred times over. i’ll see you tomorrow.

funnily, satoshi somehow does have some intervention powers, because each time the both of you attempt to go down on each other, he’s either saying he threw up, or he needs to use the toilet, or that he’s hungry. while you both love him to death, it’s also becoming difficult to hold back each time you see each other. his car in your parking lot is all he has and you dare not to go to his workplace where rumours would spark.

so after a tiring night of getting a hyper satoshi to sleep, you’d at least try. at this point, you know not to expect too much out of it, starting always with some talking. it was easy to talk to your boss, and when you phrase it like that, it did come off a little strange, but it was far from that when your boss in his late 30s looked just like he did ten years ago and that he had crazy blue eyes and insane white hair and was hot.

“thank you for taking care of him for the past month and a half,” gojo thanked you, leaning over to give you a peck to the temple, “it means a lot.”

“he’s a sweet boy, plus, i do need the money,” you giggle, nudging him, “and it did let me get to know you . .”

“certainly,” he mumbles. drunk off your scent, he leans in again, kissing you fully on the lips now. you hum softly, going on your tippy toes and wrapping your arms around his shoulder. swiftly, he props you on the kitchen counter and you yelp in surprise, unable to help the throb of your pussy when he slots himself in between your legs.

jokingly, he puts his hand to his ear. “no satoshi interruption tonight?”

you smack his shoulder, “don’t jinx it.”

he laughs, a proper laugh before he sighs shakily, fingers thumbing your sides gently. “you know . . we shouldn’t be doing this,” you feel your heart sink a little, but he quells it with hovering lips over yours, “he could hear and wake up.”

“then why have you been accepting all my kisses, gojo satoru?” your eyes challenge him, but you know one touch from him would have you submitting to him. his breath fans over your lips, and you can feel his pulse speed up when your fingers go over his neck, to his nape, to his undercut. you run your fingertips through it.

“you have too much power over me, simple.” that sentence has your eyes fluttering close. it’s too much for you and yet you welcome it with open arms, “it’s become so bad that you’re all i think about.”

“is that so?” you pull lightly on his hair.

he nods, foreheads touching now and he’s trying to hold himself back, but, “i’ve been holding back, entirely too much, baby, and i don’t think i can, anymore.”

“yeah?” you whisper, bringing him in with your legs, “show me, then.”

gojo satoru decides that maybe taking the leap isn’t so bad, so he fully gives himself to you, tugging your lips to his in a clashing kiss that has you groaning in pain just a bit. he giggles and apologises and tries again, and this time, it’s got your hips moving against him, whimpering into his mouth. gojo’s hard just from kissing, something that he’s desperate to relieve himself off so — he’s whispering for you to hang on while he slots his hands under your ass and lifts you.

satoru knows his house well, walking up with you in tow and lips still on yours, right into his room. you giggle when he plops you down and he’s already looking forward to ravishing you, but —

“let me check on satoshi for a sec.”

you laugh silently, “of course, satoru, go.”

and once your boss’ made sure his son is out cold in slumber, he’s all over you again and definitely showing you how much he’s been holding himself back. you’re the pure focus of the night, making you chase for more when he pulls away and kissing down your body. he worships it, tongue circling a nipple while his hand plays with the other, eyes staring holes into yours from how intense the blue was.

“s-satoru . .”

“yes, sweets, what is it?”

“feels good—” you whine, back arching into his hold once he leaves your tits and continues down your body. each kiss is like hellfire against your cold skin, and he pops a button and listens out again, both of you sighing in relief and giggling to each other when you don’t hear a knock on the door.

“does it? good.” it’s tantalisingly slow, the pace at which gojo peels your clothes off, but when your pants are finally off, he marvels at your beauty as he brings your legs apart. you’re shy, hiding yourself behind your arms and resisting his hands.

“aht, no, c’mon, show yourself, baby.” he only moans when he sees the dark patch at the centre of your underwear, pressing a finger into your clit and you’re ashamed at how intensely you react to it. gojo continues his torture, thumbing your bud just to watch your face contort into pleasure, “so, so pretty.”

you preen at the praise, even more so when he pulls your panties to the side and sucks slowly on your clit. it’s slow, again, and you’re clutching the sheets so tight when he lays his tongue flat against your pussy. satoru takes his time, savouring each bit of your cunt to make up for lost time, filling the room with the lewdest noises of your sopping cunt on his tongue.

“taste so fuckin’ sweet, pussy’s s’good,” he practically moans into your core, arms wrapping around your thighs to bring you closer while you try to keep your noises down to a minimum. little pants and mewls leave your lips, eyes never leaving the head of hair.

but he’s unpredictable, as gojo always is, so when he’s hovering over you just to give you a little innocent kiss, you think nothing of it, until he’s back in front of your pussy and starts eating you out like a starved man. you let out a loud moan, dragging it out until you’re gulping down your next sounds. it doesn’t help much, though, cause gojo’s slurping at your pussy like it’s the end of the world.

“s-satoru—! too much—” you moan but your hips grind into his mouth, your hands now finding purchase in his hair, “t-too loud.”

“mmf— don’t care,” he mumbles into your cunt, making sure he gets every drop of your arousal on his tongue while he abuses your clit, alternating between flicking his tongue and sucking hard and you think it’s the best head you’ve ever gotten.

“not when your cunt’s so perfect,” you only press his head deeper into you like it would stop his muffled sentences, but that only spurs him to suck harder before he just shifts down a little to plunge his tongue into your hole. you choke out a moan as his nose nudges your clit, clenching around his muscle.

“relax— mmhh, you gotta relax, baby,” he’s massaging your thighs but if anything it does the exact opposite, closing your thighs around his head in sensitivity.

“it’s— h-hard to,” you moan out, already feeling the coil in your tummy that’s approaching oh, so quickly when gojo eats you out like this. he shifts his attention back to your puffy clit, eyes flicking up to make contact with yours and you shrivel under his intense stare, “w-when you’re making me feel s’good—!”

you feel him smile into your cunt but he says nothing, taking note of the drop of your jaw, the scrunch of your eyes, the contractions of your stomach. your legs like to straighten out and shake when you’re close, he memorises. when you start to tighten your grip on his hair, he ingrains it in his mind.

“cumming— i’m c-close,” but it’s like satoru doesn’t even need it when his eyes digest the way he sends you over the edge with just his tongue.

“g— god! satoru!” your mouth falls into a silent scream after, head dipping so much into the pillow while you grind your cunt into his face, gushing all over his face with a renewed spirit and regret for all those times that men have rubbed your left lip thinking it was your clit.

“let it go, yeess . . that’s it,” satoru doesn’t hesitate to get sloppy, sucking up all your cum, gasping for air once he’s done with his meal, “pretty girl just came all over my face.”

you struggle to your elbows despite the words he utters, propped up just to catch a glimpse of him and the soaked bottom of his face that stretches into a smile.

“was that better than all the uni boys who’ve never felt the touch of a woman?” you laugh at that, making quick work of grabbing his chin and bringing him back to your lips.

“much, much better.” and you take the opportunity to flip the tables, trembling, shaking legs trying their best to wrap around his torso to straddle him — but once you’re over, you’re not quite sure what to do apart from letting your hands roam all over the expanse of his shoulders and chest.

“and can she do it again all over my cock?” the obscene words sound almost taboo falling from his mouth that your mouth drops open in initial shock, but it subsides into anticipation soon enough.

wordlessly, you take matters into your own hands, fingers making quick work of his trousers while he removes his top impatiently. the scowl on your face is prominent when you struggle to work his belt out and he chuckles with helping hands, the burn on your face deepening.

“there,” gojo giggles and he pulls you in with a peck-filled apology, “don’t worry, we have all the time in the world.”

you hum, “not when your son could knock any time soon.”

that prompts a giggle that fades off into a loud moan once your warm hand wraps around him, something that he’d never tell you how many times he’s fantasised about. slowly, you stroke his cock, excruciatingly slow just like how he’s done to your cunt earlier.

you’re hovering over him, now, dragging his tip along your pussy and whining softly at the pre-cum that mixes together with your juices. you need him into you as soon as possible, and apart from your soon burning thighs, you’ve been wanting this for as long as you’ve stepped foot into his house from the very first day.

inch by inch, you sink down onto gojo’s weeping cock, getting the luxury of feeling his sensitive twitches with the plunge into your cunt. you’re glad at least he had offered to stretch you out just a tad bit earlier, the intrusion of his fingers already having you panting for his dick; and now, when you have the real thing, it drives your mind insane.

“’t-toru— haah . .” your body curls up from the painful stretch, lips muttering the nickname unknowingly as you grasp onto his shoulders for support, and while he helps you on, he never stops saying the most filthy things, grinning each time you clench around him.

“never thought i’d be here, fuckin’ the babysitter, but here we are,” your oh my god is whispered only for the other to hear, body burning up from the words before he grinds his pelvis into yours and you slump forward in pleasure. your words are a bunch of nothingness, a string of incoherence, “and her pussy’s just so fucking— tight!”

giving you one or two breaths of rest, satoru coos in your face, cradling it and littering kisses all over it before he’s moving his hips and you’re breaking the kiss to whine out, moving your hips to meet his as well. you move sooner or later, bouncing on his cock once you’re more used to him in you and the position only hits all your spots just right.

“f-fuck— you’re so big—!” you roll your hips into him, eyes stuck on how there’s just a small bump in your tummy each time you bottom out. your boss from across you is equally ruined, eyes struggling to keep open with wet hair stuck to his forehead. “feel so so g-good . .”

“yeah?” he breathlessly mumbles, hand squeezing and kneading your ass and trying to help you, but the warmth of your cunt around his length just feels too good. “bounce on that dick, baby.”

and you do, planting your feet into the bed and fingers creating bruises along his shoulders as you impale yourself on his fat cock, switching to relaxing in his embrace and letting your hips do the work when your legs start hurting. there, you indulge in gojo’s lips as you hump him, the delicious friction of your clit against his pubes sending you reeling.

“you’re going to be soaking my sheets from how much you’re leaking,” gojo jests, letting your moans take over his mind while his lips trace down your neck, eyes just peeking over to see your ass ripple from the force. “not that i mind. how’s she doin’?”

“she’s getting,” a choked whine interrupts you, “a little tired.”

and that draws a laugh out of gojo who does nothing but tease you, something he likes to do even in makeout sessions, and he doesn’t hesitate to reach over to his bedsie table to grab his phone, leaning back to bask in your glory. here, your body just looks heavenly as you try your best to move on his lap.

“hang on a little more for me, princess,” with one hand, his larger hand leave chills all over your body and the other points his phone at you, not before making sure you were okay with it, “and smile for the camera.”

you try your best even when his hand make his way to your mouth, pulling it open with his fingers to slot it in. you’re sure you look like a whore right now, but the camera pointed your way only turn you on more, like it’s beckoning you to put on a show. and you loved the attention, so you close your lips around his fingers and start sucking, grinding even harsher on his cock that has gojo stuttering.

“y—yeah, attagirl . .” he grins at the video he takes, “show the camera how much of a cockslut you are.”

you whine, bringing the hand to your clit while you shove two hands onto his torso to really work your thighs out, feeling that familiar curl in your stomach once he starts rubbing his saliva-filed fingers along you bundle of nerves.

“r-right there, satoru—!” you swear under your breath, giving hooded eyes to the camera while you chase your high drunkenly, all sort of coherent thought banished from your head. “love your cock, love it, love it—!”

satoru swears he wants to cum from just watching you use him, and even holding himself back is proving difficult when you clamp and tighten around him until his fingers press particularly deep into your clit and you’re cumming with a loud cry of his name, body convulsing all over the video.

“tha’s a good girl . . cream my cock, yeeaaahh . .” gojo watches, hypnotised, as you lose control over your body, but the pleasure-filled whimper that you merge his name with is just too good, that he spills unexpectedly in you. the video is far from stable, so he only slaps the phone down to relish in his orgasm. gojo pushes his hips up and you gasp at the feeling, back arching when you feel his cum seep into you.

you’ve never even given much thought to pregnancy, but the feeling of his cum dribbling into you fogs your mind that you only want more after a mental note to buy the morning after pill tomorrow.

“n-need more,” you beg, fondling at his cheeks and undercut, “w-want more cum in me, satoru . .”

and it’s like a flip switches in him, because he’s flipping you over right after — he has to see his cum leave your pussy first though, taking the still ongoing video and putting it right up to your pussy, using his tip to smear your mixed juices all around.

“who knew i’d hired such a dirty girl?” he addresses the camera more than you, but he catches your flustered glance with a wink and after poorly setting up the camera on his bedside table (he just was too intoxicated on your cunt), he’s pushing back into you with a loud groan, not even caring for the consequences any more. his cum is just so much, too, spilling out the sides.

“only f’r you,” you mumble, grabbing at his forearms needily. your eyes flutter close as he bottoms out, your legs pushed right up to your chest as he folds you whichever way he wants to. at this point, if he wanted to own you, you wouldn’t object one bit, not when gojo satoru’s cock stretches your pretty pussy so nicely. “a cumslut only for you.”

“yeah?” he starts moving his hips and your arch into his hold, “i wonder how i got so — fuck — lucky.” everything is sloppy and wet and disgusting and you love every moment of it, even after he’s cummed in you the second, third, fourth time, you’re happy to be pumped full of his cum, giving him a tired, glistening grin that he returns.

“think i should be transferring over my life savings for a cunt this sweet,” you giggle at the compliment, but don’t protest when he’s pulling up the app to gift you with a hefty amount; both your salary and bonus, all from making gojo satoru fall helplessly just from your touch — something to brag about indeed.

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literaila · 3 months ago

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kid megumi and gojo definitely took bubble baths together while megumi washes his hair and satoru's just yapping about how much he loves reader

“megumi,” gojo says, not even bothering to knock on the door.

it’s the boys fault, really, for leaving it open in the first place.

megumi stills, brows furrowing as his hands stop foaming the soap in his hair. “gojo?” he asks, a bit disbelieving.

he might be going crazy—it’s not uncommon for sorcerers. and megumi barely thought he would make it to fourteen and here he is, so. he should probably tell someone about the hallucinations but—

“you got it,” gojo answers, predictably, sitting on the toilet seat. “i need to talk to you.”

megumi peaks his head around the shower curtain slowly, blinking a few times to make sure the man is really there.

but he is, grinning at the tiny bit of megumi he can see, tapping his fingers on his knees obnoxiously.

megumi points a hand towards the door. “this is an invasion of privacy.”

“megumi,” gojo gives him a bland look. “i’ve seen you naked.”

“that’s creepy.”

gojo sighs, hanging his head. “we’ve known each other for so long now, and you still don’t trust me.”

“you still haven’t given me a reason to. can’t this wait? or not happen? i don’t want to talk to you.”

yes, megumi is still hanging halfway out of the shower. yes, his hair is dripping water on the floor. no, he does not care—it’s gojo’s house anyway. he can fix the ruined floorboards.

“it’s about your mother.”

at that megumi blinks. “what’d you do?“

“i didn’t do anything.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, i’m sure,” gojo scoffs, reaching out to pull his ear—which megumi expertly deflects (he almost slips and dies in the process). “am i crying on the floor right now?”

megumi considers it. then he recalls the last time you and gojo had a fight. he had to check gojo’s pulse every time he walked past the couch.

“good point. what is it?”

“as you know, her birthday is coming up—“

“are you serious?”

“megumi.” gojo’s eyes are dubious, his voice is disapproving. “your mothers birthday is very important.”

megumi rolls his eyes. “i know. i mean, are you seriously asking me about this right now? im in the shower. there’s shampoo in my hair.”

gojo nods very seriously. “it’s the only place she won’t hear.”

“she’s not even home.”

“she’s hidden cameras, megumi, i know it.”

“no she hasn’t.”

gojo pouts. “i want it to be a surprise. she always finds out about her gifts before i can give them to her.”

“that’s because you tell her.”

“the suspense is too much. i need you to buy her something for me and hide it so i don’t know what it is.”

he sounds absolutely serious, which might be the worst part of that request, actually.

and when has megumi ever done gojo a favor?

“gojo,” megumi gives him a little smirk, tilting his head. “i’m not doing that.”

gojo groans, falling onto the floor. “c’mon, megumi, we’re supposed to be friends.”

“you’re my teacher, if anything.”

“and your father,” he juts his chin, “favoritism is not cute.”

“good.”

megumi finally turns around. gojo was never going to leave, even if he’d attempted to tackle him out of the door.

and he’s used to this, anyway. there hasn’t been a day in seven years that he’s gotten some peace.

“okay,” gojo begins again, sounding like he’s won—which he hasn’t. “i was thinking some jewelry, but you know how picky she is. and besides, she’s too rough for something small. tsumiki is already getting her that chibi mug we saw in that corner store last weekend, and whatever you’re getting is off of the table too.”

“i’m not listening to this.”

“i could take her out to dinner, but that’s not a gift. and i do that anyway. maybe i should buy her a car—what kind do you think she’d like? something blue, like my eyes—“

megumi groans.

gojo pauses. “did you get soap in your eye?”

honestly, banging his head against the wall might be better than this. at least they have pain killers at the hospital.

megumi doesnt answer, no longer entertaining this, but gojo continues anyway.

“maybe we should re-do the bathroom, you know how she’s always saying that—“

god, when will it end?

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gojossocks · 8 months ago

Text

We can't be friends

Gojo x Reader Summary: You decided to erase Gojo from your memory.

“Who is Gojo Satoru to you?”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, before giving the doctor a tight-lipped smile. “W-we were together for 6 years.”

He’s no one important really, just the love of your life.

There has been an on-going trend all over the world— technology has upgraded enough that you can erase someone entirely out of your memory, as if they’ve never existed. If they do, it wasn’t like how you knew them.

You weren’t sure what dragged you in this clinic with all of the most important things that remind you of him. Maybe it was the way he ignored you like the plague, the way the familiarity in his eyes disappeared just earlier last week when he spoke to you so freely like you’ve never been together. It was clear that he got his memory of you erased after that incident. You were just another colleague. Perhaps, the pain in your heart is too much to handle.

You don’t remember the way to the clinic that much. It was a surprise you even got there in one piece considering you were sobbing the whole way there. So even if you aren’t entirely sure whether you’re ready to let go of Satoru, you signed the consent form anyway.

If he’s got you erased completely from your life, then what’s the point of living in hell remembering him? You didn’t want to mourn for someone alive and well.

You never really understood why he left because everything was just working out between the two of you. Satoru provided you with no explanation and packed up his things to leave you behind to your own devices. You almost wanted to back out when you started reminiscing vividly of everything you once shared with him.

You remembered falling in love with him, how it feels like the first day of spring, how his kisses taste like daylight. How he squeezes your hand three times before you part ways for a mission. How he holds you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world. How it was always you and him against the world, him making you laugh while you tended to his wounds. He would tell you that everything would be okay because he has you and only you.

The bad outweighed the good that you had forgotten that loving him and being loved with him is something that you never wanted to forget, even if your relationship with him crashed and burned. You don’t want him to be a stranger you can’t recognize anymore.

But it had already been done and everything faded into nothingness as you try to grasp with whatever you have left of him.

-.-

You have been working with Gojo for quite some time now, maybe about six years. But you’ve never directly initiated conversations with him outside work. He’s the only one you don’t know much about in Jujutsu High. Today is no different as you’re waiting with him in the clinic for your mutual friend Shoko.

“That’s a beautiful necklace you have there.” He acknowledges you for the first time since you got there. Even if you’re just a few meters away, he doesn’t talk to you. You find that a little bit weird because everyone tells you that he’s obnoxious and loud. Somehow with you, he’s always quiet.

You didn’t remember much of how you got the necklace. You figured that the reason why Gojo’s asking about it is because it matches the color of his eyes. There was a hazy memory though— you were crying, telling a doctor to ‘let me keep it, please. Just this one.’ but you didn’t think much of it. Maybe it was all a dream.

You responded with a laugh before toying with the pendant of the necklace. “Yeah, It was a gift to me.”

“Oh?” He looked at you through his glasses, his intense gaze making you feel a little nervous. “Mind telling me who?”

“I forgot.” You replied, slowly relaxing in your seat while looking around at Shoko’s clinic. He nodded at you, a small smile adorning his lips and he didn’t say anything more.

You missed the way his eyes linger on you for a moment before putting back his blindfold on or the apologetic look that Shoko gave him before he leaves.

“So, who’s Gojo Satoru to you?”

“He’s the strongest of course.”

But to him, you’re still his everything—because he didn’t really remove you from his memory. Maybe if he was braver, you’d remember him.

a/ n: part 2? :0

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fic #gojo angst #gojo x reader angst #jjk angst #jjk fanfic

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arminsumi · 1 year ago

Text

THE SPRING I MET YOU

GOJO さとる

He hates spring because of "allergies"; he blames his sniffly nose and red eyes on the season.

Warnings : angst (heartbreak)

Playme : First Love/Late Spring

SPRING 2006

You had met Gojo Satoru through a common friend — Geto Suguru.

Oh how many times had you heard him say, like a broken record;

"You really have to meet this guy, you're gonna click with him I just know it. You're like the same person."

You're like the same person.

Suguru'd nag you to meet Satoru ever since he entered Jujutsu High, because he thought he was... you know, just the kinda guy you'd fall in love with. And he hated to see you moping around, lonely and hopelessly seeking a lover that was certainly not "coming to you on a summer breeze" like your mother insisted.

So you met Satoru, by Suguru's demand.

And your first impression of him was: oh no; he's an idiot.

A loud-mouthed, obnoxious idiot. Inappropriate. Overconfident. Irresponsible.

And his first impression of you was: eh, she's too shy.

A put-together, attractive woman. Too proper. Too shy. Too responsible.

If you and him were words, then you were antonyms to each other.

But that didn't matter, it was just the peripheral view you had of each other; something still drew you into each other. Like the universe was drawing up a constellation especially for you and him.

What did you have in common? Nothing. What did you like about his personality? Nothing. But Satoru was always nobody but himself and you liked that. That's the thing about him that saved you from viewing him as an unworthy madman.

And you? He thought you were always trying too hard to be somebody else, someone you were not, someone you could never be — and he wanted to change that. To see what was beneath the diffidence, beneath the plastic sheet that you covered over the image of your self.

He wanted to provoke you more than anyone else, not for the purpose of eliciting a cheap reaction and feeling fleeting amusement, but because he wanted to get you out of your shell.

His heart was on his sleeve, and yours was wrapped up in winter layers even though it was a warm spring. Satoru peeled off the layers one by one, until finally he found his gold; your sweet, tender, loving heart. And once he found it he grabbed it in a way that showed he intended for no one else to steal it from him; his love, all his.

It was just beautiful from then on. You and him. Satoru and you. The two stars in the constellation that the universe specifically designed just for you and him. Only you and him.

How did the first date happen? It just happened. How did the first kiss happen? It just happened. How did the first slow dance happen? It just happened. How did the boyfriend girlfriend thing happen? It just happened.

Everything between you and him always just happened. Like Tetris blocks falling perfectly into place. Like puzzle pieces perfectly connecting. Like clockwork.

No friction, no tediousness, no miscommunication between your stars. You and him shared your minds, bodies and souls with each other.

Like you were the same person.

SPRING 2009

Satoru's face trembled and nose reddened as tiny tears rolled out of his eyes.

This was the first time he had cried in three years. And it was a first for having an emotional breakdown in public, in the middle of a busy train station.

"Satoru, I'm sorry." you said to him. "I have to start my life."

"But we've already started a life here, together!" he yelled with a broken voice, in the middle of that busy train station. People looked.

It was Spring of 2009; you were breaking up with a 20 yr old Gojo Satoru as sensibly and sensitively as you could, but he still acted like a child.

When you and him had gotten together in 2006, both of you were just simple-minded, carefree teenagers who had yet to be shaped by the hurt of life.

Oh him and his prismatic feelings, they spill out the edge at the right angle and show a display of everything you never thought he felt.

"Things have changed. I've changed, and so have you. We have to move on from each other." you said, and he shook his head and looked at you like he was falling to pieces.

"I haven't changed! I'm still your boy. C-can't we talk about this at the cafe—

"—Satoru, my train is here."

SPRING 2018

"—Sensei, the train is here!"

He was interrupted back then just like he's been interrupted now from his daydream of you.

"What's the matter?"

Gojo-sensei's blindfold soaks up his tears, but it can't muffle his sniffling or reddened cheeks and ears. His nose wrinkles up and wiggles to the side as he sniffles and runs the back of his hand under his nostrils.

"Allergies. This is why I hate spring." he chuckles.

"Aw, get allergy medicine."

"Yeah yeah, I will. You rascals catch your train before it runs off without you." Gojo

「じゃあ！」 Yuji raises a hand of goodbye to his teacher and boards the train with Megumi and Nobara.

He waves goodbye to his students, lifting his blindfold to catch a peek before the train carries them out of sight. His smile drops when they can no longer see him at all.

He stares for a long moment at the place where you once stood, and remembers two memories;

One late spring you were on your tip-toes kisssing him for the first time.

And one late spring you were waiting for your train, breaking his heart with goodbye.

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

#tw: angst #angst #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo angst #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x fem reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x fem reader #jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n

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inumakis-boo · 5 months ago

Text

TOGE INUMAKI ⟢. ݁₊⋆.˚ ༘♡˚

fanfiction synopsis ␥ you and toge inumaki are both in your third year of jujustu high, but youve barely spent a moment alone yet. when you do on a saturday night, you realize exactly why you need to "hang out" more // aka, the first step to being friends with benefits.. hooking up the first time.

word count - 4,629 // hope you enjoy! tw obviously.

You would have never guessed how this night would end, compared to its beginning. Like something you would have read in a terrible booktok novel with its cliches and tropes- but you could have never understood how even cliches, imitate life.

It was finally Saturday night, and all of the second and third years sat in Itadori’s room, with the dim blue LED lights circling them, and posters of clad women on the wall to give off the perfect teenage boy aesthetic. Some game was going on the TV and both Itadori and Nobara had been occupying everyone's attention with their shouting and cheers as they fought on screen.

You didn’t know exactly how or why or when, someone had swiped a bottle of something, and now it lay on the mats on the floor, empty with a broken seal. At least everyone had gotten more than a few sips of the fire in the bottle, and you struggled to swallow it, but you still smiled after and laughed. It made the stress of training on the body at least feel a little better as your fingertips buzzed.

Nobody checked the time, and everyone laid out on his bed, on the floor, on the desk and chair. It wouldn’t be too much of a problem- all the teachers would be gone for the weekend. After all, they were all old enough that Satoru Gojo wouldn’t have to babysit constantly, right?

They sat, comfortably then, letting the TV be loud and the shouting obnoxious.

It had taken you awhile to notice, but one member had been missing for the last few minutes with no explanation. You double-checked the room and did not see the violet-eyed boy sitting anywhere. He had last taken a few sips of the bottle and beat Itadori in a game, before at some point dipping for.. whatever reason.

Perhaps he had gotten sick or was fetching something? You decided to go check it out. You silently got up off the floor and didn’t pay much attention as everyone laughed at Itadori dying for the 7th time tonight.

The hallway was darker than usual, but it was probably too late anyway. Moonlight shone through the panes of the window, their crossed shapes decorating the hardwood down the hall, each window revealing the silky glow from the outside. Your eyes followed down and caught to one pattern disturbed.

You follow it up and see the one you were checking on, leaning on the window sill, soaking up the moonlight. It glimmered against the pale skin of his face but did not fade the marks around his mouth.

You slowly walk over, and he tears his eyes from the scene towards you and smiles a little. Instinctually, he pulls out his phone.

“You look happy.” You remark, and his smile grows as he types into the notes app.

// Just felt like walking around, but seeing you here is better. //

You were familiar with his real personality beyond the curse lodged in his throat, the silly and rather typical teenage boy attitude in everything he did. But for some odd reason, it was seeing it face to face was a difference. You had only maybe a few conversations with him before over text, and while you trained together in class, didn’t mean you were used to him yet.

// Something happen? //

“Nah.” You lean on the sill with your body, feeling the open breeze come in. “You're not missing anything.”

He just smirks with a little head shake, and his eyes that had met yours look back to the sill.

// I won’t keep you here, // He types as you look over. // I should be back soon. //

“I’m not in a rush to watch Megumi and Itadori argue about the game rules again.” You smile and snicker. “Out here is nice.”

// Not surprised about that at all // He snickers aloud, // I would like company. //

The moonlight and the random liquor someone brought must have been messing with your senses- He felt welcoming and charming, and in this space, it was more private than anywhere else.

“You had plenty of company in there.” You bring it up, but he just shrugs. Perhaps he wasn’t asking for that kind of head-ache-inducing company.

He scrolled up again to the first note.

// ..it is better seeing you here.//

What was happening with your stomach? It was like something was bubbling up, in a good way. He gazed with an interested eye. and you tried to hold back a dopey grin.

He turns to face away from the window and stretches. You watch him turn back to you, his face now in the dark of the hall. He types-

//I am going to go back to my room, wanna me to walk you back to everyone else?//

“W-What?” You stutter embarrassingly, then clear your throat- “Nono, you don’t have to. It is only down the hall. Let me walk you instead.”

Ah, his smile was so genuine, and he brushed back his hair for a moment before shrugging. A visual okay.

You begin to walk with Him down the silver halls, cusping your hands in yours, watching as you walk in step, his dorm slippers on with his casual sweatpants and navy t-shirt. He wanted to be comfortable- it wasn’t even the first time you had seen him in casual clothes.. although it was more of a rare sight to not see his mouth covered.

You blindly follow him to his room, your eyes catching peeks of his face. He still looked like he did last year according to school photos, but his jaw was more defined, and of course, his inky markings had always made themselves apparent. You thought they were interesting, like any tattoo or scar.

His eyes look at you curiously, and you realize you're just staring at him and look away. You don’t look back, even though he brushes his arm against yours. He had little words to say, yet had better social skills than anybody here. It didn’t feel awkward though, it was just a little new. You hadn’t really noticed him before.. nor had you noticed him noticing you.

Both of you arrived at his dorm room, a little wood plaque around his doorknob that was a gift, a salmon emoji that had been painted for him hung there. It was cute, and you watched it as the door opened.

Toge stepped into his room and didn’t bother to flick on the lights, the full moon shining right through his windows. You couldn’t see much but you could smell him from outside of the room, a mix of his shampoo and cologne- fresh and warm. It almost pulled you in.

He turned after he kicked off his slippers, coming back to the door with his notes presented still.

// We should hang out more often. I think you're fun. //

You shake your head with a laugh. How did he come to that conclusion?

“We didn’t even do anything..!” You laugh, rubbing your arms. Toge returns to his phone. “How would you know?”

// Yeah but, I have my reasons, don’t I? Maybe I have a feeling. //

Okay, maybe your knees had good reason to be weak. Was he flirting? His face seemed to say so.

And.. what could happen if you tested the waters? You hadn’t ever flirted with many people before but.. he was just a friend, right?

You look down the hall and bite your lower lip with a smile. “What kind of feeling?”

It is his turn to look away, leaning against the door frame. He is trying to not smile too hard, you can see.

“Are you feeling like.. we should hang out sooner than later?"

You were wondering if others had drunk more than you had, and according to his eyes, sizing you up, you had an inkling that he might've had just enough to not fear with his expressions. If he was truly cautious, he would be covering his mouth, right?

And according to the feeling between your legs, you had little filter to worry about.

He took a step once, then twice until your chests were practically meeting, and he looked like he had already decided what he wanted, and was bold about it. While your heart was still beating, even if rapidly, you wouldn’t stop until you figured him out.

Of course, he typed with one hand by your side, then presented.

// I am feeling like you are curious about me like I am curious about you, and I wanna see more. Only if you wanna. //

He had read you like a book. You licked your lips and sighed, looking up at him. His hair had been pushed back some since he arrived at his dorm, and the warmth from his body mixed with his cologne was driving you nuts. You wondered how toned he was under these clothes- and wondered if he thought about you the same way.

“If you're so curious..” Your hand slipped onto his pec- firm and warm. “How about you come find out?”

That would do it- one smirk and another step and his lips were pressing against yours. So softly at first, but once your hand had slowly crept up his neck and pulled him just a tad closer, you could feel the intensity rise, his tongue running across your lips and into your open mouth, hands running up and down your hips, never pulling you further but always closer.

Then you could feel him moving back and pulling you with him. You were still in the hallway outside of his dorm, after all. You accepted it- and had no room to even protest. He was too good of a kisser and knew exactly how to take control, not much of a surprise there.

By the time you had started paying attention again, you heard the decoration on his door tap on the door as it closed shut, and realized vaguely you were in a dark room with his boy that just moments ago, considered nothing more than friendly with.

How far this was going to go or fear of being caught was honestly the last thing on your mind. He had reiled you up and at this point, he could have anything he asked for. He wanted to know, he needed to know.

You let his tongue slip into your mouth as his hands run underneath your shirt, his hands on your skin sending you even more haywire. It was addictive, and you were determined to make the same reaction out of him- if not better.

You let your fingers curl in his hair, pushing him forward more, his warm sigh against your cheek telling you how much he was enjoying this. He deserved it, for being so nice to you, and coming onto you like that, making you feel so nervous and witty. You let him guide you to somewhere in his room, and suddenly you can feel the edge of something behind your ass. You were slightly pinned to the end of his bed frame, just enough to keep you from running away.

His knee slowly dragged between the gap of your legs, and the proximity made you sigh in appreciation. He hummed, yet didn’t dare leave your lips. He was being so explorative, passionately involved in every toss of your tongue in your mouth and every patch of skin he touched. His fingertips were dragging across your flesh, and the entire time you could barely keep yourself sane enough to touch him back.

But you did- starting at his navel, just to make him sigh through his nose as his kisses traveled from your mouth to your neck and ear, the brush of his face and lips making you want to squirm with delight. Then, the palm of your hand, just teasing enough, palmed his firm abs, defined so perfectly that you could imagine them in your dreams just by touch alone- but here you were, touching his so wantingly. Your fingertips, like his, grazed so temptingly across his obliques, feeling their tightness and the rumble in his chest easily.

At this point, his shirt was bunching at your wrists, and as a final act of teasing, simply made a motion to pull it up, and meeting violet eyes as he did could’ve made you sink to your knees at a moment. His eyes were lidded and needy, and his lips were pinker with friction, and you could only imagine if he was the type to leave marks behind.

The white shirt had been tossed, maybe on his desk chair, he clearly hadn’t cared where it ended up, because he was too busy doing the exact same to you. You wouldn’t even break eye contact, wouldn’t dare, as his hands sat right below your bra, and could feel the urge in his grip to just take it off right then and there.

Maybe helping his urges wouldn’t be so bad, right?

You took his hand, and encouraged the back of his, allowing him to sneak under the wire and squeeze your perky tits, watching his eyes return to yours as he squeezed on his own.

There was no way you were returning to your dorm room tonight.

Next thing you knew, your bra wire was sitting right near the top of your breasts as he had leaned down, holding his head as he licked and sucked on the hard nipples, rolling one in the other hand. It was erotic, watching his tongue, marked with the scar of his curse, flicking your cute buds to make your body jello in his hands. It was extremely hot, and you knew that these panties were going to be ruined by the time you let him tear them off of you.

Speaking of underwear, you forced his head to lay next to your neck, returning his lower half to be in your grasp, and immediately got to work palming at the other. He sure was enjoying that attention, letting you fondle your smaller hand against his clothed thickness, shuttering at the idea of sitting right on it. The lewd thoughts were going a mile a minute, and you weren’t planning on stopping.

He continued to pull at your sensitive little buds as you fondled him, his breath becoming heavy against your neck as you thoroughly got an idea of what to expect- but hands wandered on his side, and you knew that his long fingers were not going to be idle much longer. His entire hand curled around your mound over your sweatpants, and the pressure in his fingertips along your pantied slit was driving you nuts.

But, with bra abandoned on the floor, he moved you with his hand still on your crotch to the side of the bed, his forehead against yours as he switched places and sat down first, then brought you into his lap.

You could tell he was not going to be rough in manhandling you, just simply moving you just to better fit his need to touch you, and the touch alone was enough to make it obvious how wet you were- and he became very aware the moment he dragged down the band of your sweatpants to reveal the heat of your pussy, throbbing with need for any kind of friction, by anything.

You could hear the hum in his throat, the holding back of a groan as he touched the lace of your underwear and found it moist, clearly satisfied with all that had been hidden before. You could feel the grind of his cock against your ass as he leaned back more into the headboard and pillows, making your torso almost barely sit up, while your legs were pulled apart so easily by setting them on opposite sides of his own knees. You were so bare, and his fingers trailing around your clit, throbbing with need, was enough to make you moan into the air, your chest rising with the lighting going through you.

“Be quiet.” The command shot through you instantly, and your mouth closed, only faint whimpers lodged in your throat managing to make any noise- anyone could hear, of course, it was late.

But no- that was only one half of the coin. The other half was being able to hear the gushing noises as he softly slapped your wet folds, just enough to hear it, and being forced to hear how needy you had become. His other hand held your jaw close to his neck, and let you cover your whimpers there. You moved your ass against his length just below, but he wasn’t done here.

One finger had slipped in so easily with all the lubrication gushing out of you, but the second dreadful finger had entered so achingly slow, pushing your insides slowly apart as he made a few experimental pumps before sinking them deep and curling, slow at first then faster and faster.

You weren’t going to make it like this. You were bound to cum, splayed out like a breeding slut for him, taking his fingers as he fucks you so earnestly, and sighs and grunts like he is fucking you, all the while not even having the pleasure to groan out yourself- only forced to hear how much your pussy needed his cock soon, and by soon, you meant thirty minutes ago, out in the hall way in the moonlight outside of Itadoris bedroom.

“Haah..” He grazed your ridges so slowly that you almost came, his thumb flicking your swollen clit too many times to count. He was too good at this.

You couldn’t handle it anymore- it was either you were going to cum here, or he would fuck you. Or both. Hopefully both.

Your fingertips grab onto his waist band and try to pull it down, but the angle is hard and you almost grow frustrated. He only bites his lip, forces your head so he can kiss you, and drags his own pants down, lifting both of you up to do so briefly.

Your first contact with his cock is when it slaps against your wet folds, the tip of his dick just brush so teasingly against your slit that you can barely imagine how you would somehow fit it in your throat eventually (hopefully, eventually, if she made it out alive.)

Now he was gasping, the mix of the delicate heat on his shaft, the wetness leaking from your needy hole, and his tiphead rubbing against your clit was even driving him insane. His hands were bruisingly gripping your waist, keeping you still as he slides up and down, shifting his hips to graze his tip all around your folds.

“P-Please, Toge-” You manage out when he gets weaker, your watery eyes and whimpering tone catching his ear immediately. “I want y-you to fuck me.”

He wouldn’t resist that kind of plea, not when he himself wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last- fuck it, he would use his curse to go longer if he needed too, as long as he was buried inside your cunt when it happened.

You felt it, instantly as the tip of his cock buried slowly into your hole, finally, stretching so good you were ready to about give up and let him take you anyway he wished. He was not going to let that happen though, you had to witness it all, how good he was laying it down.

The shaft went deeper and deeper until you felt the tip graze your delicate cervix, even with this much preparation, you still knew it was going to be bruised tomorrow morning. Fuck it, what did you care. Toge Inumaki was going to fuck you, and hearing his whimpering as he finally hit his base against your folds was like music to your ears.

He pumped it in, slowly and surely, until the pumps couldn't be timed anymore as he was, becoming steady thrusts into your creaming cunt that the hand on your jaw moved to your lips to block any noise from escaping.

God, his cock was so perfectly heavy just enough to burn your entrance as he entered over and over again, and perfectly long to make you groan into the palm of his hand as he slams it into you. It was too erotic the noise, what was the point of even covering your voice? Between his huffing and the squelching, it would be instantly noticeable to anyone outside the door.

Yet, he fucked your pussy until you could feel all the wetness gather at the base, dripping down his shaft. He didn’t even care beyond holding your mouth in his palm to conceal the noise.

But, he wasn’t done yet. No.. one final trick.

“Sit up and face me.” He whispered, and thank goodness you did not resist whatsoever to spare his voice, already so weak, you found yourself slipping his fat cock out of your needy cunt, and turning around, watching him readjust himself to look at you.

Yep, as expected. Face nothing more than a filthy reaction, dimmed and teary eyes, bitten lips, and red-got ears and cheeks, followed by cute red marks all along your neck, just enough to match your pink, toyed nipples against your pale skin, and finally, hand marks to go right along with glistening folds, already drooling all over the cock in his hand, directed right at your hole.

His hair had long since been pushed back, and his cheeks and lips were the same hue of red, his chest sweaty from bearing your heat on it as he fucked you on your back against it, and finally, silvery hair trimmed right at the base of his hard cock which throbbing and beading with precum.

“Sit on it, like a good girl.”

You had no inclination to do otherwise, feeling the tip enter you again, but this time, so much deeper than you knew another could go. It spreaded you out perfectly, watching as he got a perfect view of your hole, stretched around his dick while your tits sat prettily on your chest, hands stabilizing you on his hips.

You sat fully on it, your insides spazzing as it throbbed inside you, and you watched his face as he relished in the feeling, so completely trying to hold back from the display in front of him.

You wanted him to tell you exactly what to do- you were going to be his plaything tonight, no matter how much embarrassment you would feel in the morning, you were addicted to the idea of this man find every weak spot inside you, and letting him do exactly what he wanted.

He got the memo very fast.

“Bounce up and down, baby.” He whispered again, and your thighs moved, allowing you up and down on his shaft with ease. Even the burning in your thighs had disappeared, thanks to his order. You let his cock pump into your the first few time, watching as he tilted his head back to feel the bare heat, the friction of your ridges inside of you dragging across his head and shaft constantly.

You didn’t tire of watching him, not of him holding your hips and guiding you even though his words had done enough, not tiring of watching his eyes roll back, his mouth opening to moan aloud, his abs squeezing as he control his abdomen from reacting. It was your turn to watch him fall apart, and with all the foreplay with your tits and clit, you thought it well-deserved, if not vengeful.

You gained confidence as you rode him, hearing the slickness coat your thighs then meeting his, creating a sound so erotic it would get you both kicked out of jujutsu high, but you didn’t care when you grabbed his hands from your waist and let them grope at your tits, watching his eyes dilate with the motion of them moving in his hands. It went right to your abdomen as you felt his fingers pull at your already tender nipples.

You weren’t ever going to be the same after this- of course, you fooled around briefly before you joined the third years before Jujustu High, being a late bloomer, but this was going to be part of every wet dream, every shower spent with your fingers deep in your holes, would be about this moment, with his eyes grazing over you like he had a million things to say and command, and you're expected (and will) obey every single one, simply because he could fuck you to the point that you hoped he cummed right inside of you.

The very thought was going to make you explode, right on the base of his cock, you were going to lose all control, and nothing but his words were going to stop it.

But he was waiting for the perfect time- no, he wanted to cum with you, at the same moment, wanted you to cream right inside you as you creamed on him. He was going to make you remember this night, when you discovered all of him.

The sickening slaps had increased, and the effect of his words had worn off, but you didn’t care. The feeling of your g-spot being constantly rubbed into, fucked into, was all that mattered. His hands abandoned your tits for now, and instead, settled right on your face, and brought you down to kiss him. Now, it was his turn.

He trusted his hips deep in your cunt, and if nobody knew you two were fucking, somebody probably knew now. The dick was simply too good to even speak, feeling your lips wet with drool as he kissed you, your tongue being eagerly played with as he entered your mouth. He wanted you to go insane- he refused to be the only one.

Finally, he pressed your forehead against his, with both of your sweaty bodies rubbing together as he fucked your cunt easily with a flick of his hips, your moans and breath sharing the same space between your faces, he couldn’t resist any more. Not any longer could he hold out, now when you looked so prettily drunk on sex.

“I want you to cum.” He managed in a guttural demand. “Right now.”

The squeeze of your walls finally killed him as your racked out a deliciously loud moan turned whine, his hot cum shooting right into your clenching pussy as you leaked all over him, twitching and stuttering and faltering, head meeting his chest and neck as she came hard, right where she wanted to the most.

He holds you with both arms around your back, giving slowing thrusts into your sensitive cunt, tits and chest heaving against his as your whimper and whine, until he finally comes to a stop, and with the missing of friction, comes out his hard cock, and the load dripping onto his navel that he had buried deep inside you.

You were delirious with sex, completely and utterly spent as you panted against his chest, feeling his breath match yours so perfectly it was calming your brain down. You couldn’t stop twitching though, and you didn’t know if and when you would stop.

“Breathe..” He whispered, using probably the last of his energy to calm you down. Of course, it works, and you can feel yourself take a deep breath and release it with a shuttering take.

“Is it okay.. if I stay?”

You could hear the soft noise of him tapping a screen.

// To hang out? //

You smiled weakly, and lifted up a finger to type back.

// yes pls. //

Thank you all for reading! I had rewritten this, it was supposed to much more vague but.. i like this better.

anyways, @inumakisser and @nectardaddy this is for you pookies, i promised fr to deliver.

see ya later!

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chuluoyi · 1 year ago

Text

✎ attraction

- gojo satoru x reader

to think it started with your crush on his best friend...

genre: high school!gojo being a menace, jealous!gojo but he doesn’t realize it? enemies to lovers, fluff, gojo begins pining on you

note: thank you anon who asks for gojo falling in love with a first year! i added some spice though haha

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Back in 2006—

There was this tiny weeny part of Gojo that was like... questioning, how did his best friend Geto Suguru catch your eye, whereas he didn’t? Like, at all?

"I want Geto."

"Hah?" Gojo arched a righteous brow, swiftly turning your way—feeling the stings of irritation gnawing at him. "What?"

You shot him a look. “I said, you suck and I’m lamenting that I’m paired with you instead of Geto for this mission.”

Once upon a time, you did hate him for obvious reasons as other people do. He was obnoxious, boastful and overall grating on your nerves.

Well, actually, “hate” would be too strong of a word, so probably “dislike greatly” it is.

“Ehh, Suguru? With you?” Gojo glanced at you, purposefully scrunching his face into a mocking sneer. “No way. Absolutely not. Incompatible. I won’t give him my blessings.”

“Who are you to grant blessings?” you hissed with a bulging vein of frustration. “And no, it's not what you think! I—” you wanted to kick yourself for stumbling over your words, “—I just respect him in a way an underclassman would!”

Gojo let out a strained laugh.

To him, you were this cute little junior who looked funny when mad. Riling you up was on his daily to-do list, and poking fun at your obvious crush on his best friend was supposed to double the fun, until it made him wonder despite himself... just what exactly did Suguru have that he apparently lacked, leading you to always follow him with your eyes, whereas you spared him with nothing but glares and sharp retorts?

You didn’t exactly hide your feelings. Whenever Geto was nearby or greeted you in the mornings, you'd blush like a tomato. It was silly, because Gojo was sure his best friend’s type wasn’t a girl as skittish as you—surely, it must be someone as vivacious as Inoue Waka.

He knew you were doomed to fail.

"I suggest you go pick up some slack," he teased. "Better if you don't become a dead weight while assisting him in missions, no?"

He knows. Really.

"...do you know that there are only three things I can't stand here?"

"And those are?"

But...

"Your stupid glasses, your Limitless—and you."

He was still irked, regardless.

"Well, poor you, then," he shrugged, shit-eating grin on his face. This time he pushed his luck. "Do you know that you're nowhere nearing Suguru's type?"

Scratch that. You hate him. You turned to him with a reddened face, and it wasn't because you were blushing.

"I'm going by myself!" you declared, seething. "I couldn't care less about what you're about to do—I'm finishing this and going home!"

With that, you you marched towards the haunted house, paying no heed to his taunts behind you.

You felt a wave of embarrassment washing over. Gojo always messed with you and normally you would chalk it up as one of his shits—but this time, you didn't appreciate how he touched on that sore spot of your not-so-hidden infatuation with Geto. So what if you weren't his ideal type? He didn't have to be mean!

But soon you regretted leaving his side, as a monstrous cursed spirit quickly chased you out.

Gojo was still outside, bidding his time. He merely huffed when he heard you screaming in fear.

He was ready with a jab. "Well, well... Look who's running back into my arms—"

But his smirk quickly fell when he saw the cursed entity was apparently way beyond your level. You ran out—no, by some idiotic impulse of survival, you actually leapt out of the two-story window and almost fell flat on your face and broke your bones, but before then, he sprung to action, catching you, wrapping one arm on your waist.

You were grateful you that you weren't doomed—until you felt yourself dangling mid air in his hold... like a cat.

"Gojo!" you wailed. "I'm going to fa—!"

Oh, but Gojo was convinced that this was his moment to shine. He directed a smirk your way as the bright blue mass in his hand totally caught your attention. With one swift flick of his hand, he muttered the mantra for Blue, and exorcised the cursed spirit in one go.

He marveled at his own show of power—and hoping that somehow, you would too. Then, he placed his hand under your knees, repositioning you in a princess-carry, and the way your gentle curves nestled snugly in his arms sparked some intriguing thoughts in him.

Your wide, crystal-clear eyes gazed at him with such wonder. Red tinted your cheeks. The corners of his mouth curved into a winning smile.

It was at that exact moment when he realized it: he wants you. This funny girl who often made his day, he wanted you to look at his way too.

...but goddamnit, you like Suguru.

"Well, not that scary now with me around, isn’t it?" he boldly announced, and your amazed expression immediately turned into a cute frown.

"Thanks," you blurted, still with rosy cheeks and looked frazzled, but then you realized the state you were in his arms. "But—put me down!"

"Ehhh, I will if your feet can reach the ground!"

Who cares if you like Suguru? As he burst into snickers and you screamed at his face, Gojo Satoru decided then and there—in that spring of 2006—that he would make it his mission to win you over. To make you his.

And years later, not only he achieved that but also so much more—a ring on your finger serving as the testament to his success.

Epilogue

"Yaga-sensei," Geto sighed wearily. "Can I be paired with Shoko, please?"

"Geto-san, wait, please—" you frantically tried to explain, glaring at Gojo in the process. "I'll do my best so—"

"You're such a bother, even Suguru doesn't want to go on missions with you," the white-haired clown remarked with an evil grin. "Right, Suguru?"

"No, Satoru—"

"Well, but if it's me, I'll gladly mentor and teach you though~"

"I don't want you! You're so insufferably annoying!"

"Yaga-sensei, can I please get paired with someone else—"

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teamatsumu · 10 months ago

Text

exclusive. (gojo satoru x reader)

summary: A series of moments with Gojo Satoru, leading to the moment you realize you’re in love with him.

word count: 2,223

warnings: swearing, fem!reader, friends to lovers (?), jujutsu high shenanigans, this is pretty harmless fluff

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi

Anyone who met Gojo Satoru for the first time had a visceral reaction to him.

Either they found him loud, obnoxious and annoying (both Shoko and Suguru described that as their first impressions of him), or they were starstruck by him. After all, he was Gojo Satoru. The wielder of the most powerful cursed technique in the Jujutsu world at present. The brilliant Six Eyes. And even at such a young age he showed potential that made the higher ups nervous.

And he was easy on the eyes too. Tall, lean, porcelain pale skin, hair like snow and eyes brighter than the blue skies. It was in the way he carried himself, shoulders set back, chin held high, imposing and demanding that all eyes met him. Girls were endlessly obsessed with him, with the idea of him. And he ate that shit up.

You however, would argue that you didn’t have any impression of him at all. He was just there. Okay, that was Gojo Satoru. Cool. Time to just shrug and walk away. He wasn’t exactly someone you had to interact with daily. He was a year older, in a different class. He had friends of his own. And he was quite literally famous. Why would he bother with you?

What you didn’t know about Gojo Satoru was that he didn’t need any reason to be obnoxious. He just was. Seeing someone indifferent to his existence lit a fire in him, and he was adamant on making sure you noticed him. One way or the other.

“So it doesn’t matter to you if I’m cursing you out? As long as I’m paying attention to you?”

You eyed him, watching as he leaned back on the two back legs of the chair he was sitting in until it teetered dangerously. The action kind of put you on edge but you would be damned if you let him know that it bothered you. Mostly because if he knew then he would never stop doing it.

He snapped his fingers and grinned in the affirmative.

“All press is good press.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know, it sounds cool.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to your textbook. A bout of silence fell on you for a few brief moments, before Satoru felt the urge to ruin it again.

“You’re not gonna fail.”

You didn’t look up. “Thanks?”

“So stop studying.”

You sighed, still not looking at him. You flipped a page. A hand grabbed at your open book, shutting it with a soft thud. You finally turned to glare at the boy. Over the curve of his shades, his eyes were as blue as ever. He grinned wide.

“There she is. Hey, pretty girl.”

Another thing about him, he flirted endlessly.

Your scowl deepened, trying to will away the heat that rushed to your ears. It was annoying, almost frustrating, how easy he thought it was to get under your skin. Saying shit like this as if it didn’t mean anything. Casual. Unserious.

Your train of thought broke when he reached forward and pinched your cheek hard. You yelped and pushed him hand away, wrestling against his strength when he tried to twist closer to you. By the time Suguru and Kento walked into the classroom, he had you pinned on the desk and was messing your hair up the best he could while you called him every colorful name you could think of.

Suguru didn’t bat an eye. Kento just sighed. This was, unfortunately, normal.

You, of course, didn’t fail your exam. Surprisingly, neither did Satoru, even though you had not seen him open a book once. Practical application was one thing (Satoru excelled in that of course), but how did he manage to get the theory right? He had spent every minute of his prep days either bothering you in person, sending you endless text messages, or lounging around in your room and watching TV. The fact that he passed and was now a third year was more surprising to you than the fact that you passed. At least you studied for it.

“You just wanted me to fail so I would be held back for the year and we could be classmates.” Satoru grinned, peeling open a packet of those overly sweet jellies he loved eating. You snorted, turning over in your bed and pulling your sheets up higher. It was nearly 10 in the morning, and Satoru had woken you up with the news that results were out and both of you had passed. Your body was still sluggish, eyelids heavy with exhaustion and residual sleep.

“Is that your breakfast?” You watched him lean back and shake the entire bag of jellies straight into his mouth from above. Your face twisted in disgust.

“Yup. Gotta start the day right.”

You didn’t bother to argue, shoving your face into the pillow and hoping it would suffocate you to death. You heard shuffling and then felt the mattress dip, grunting when you felt something heavy fall over your back.

“So what do you wanna do today?”

You let out a pained sigh, not bothering to turn and look at him, or his legs that were likely draped over you.

“I was planning to sleep in but I guess I can’t do that anymore.” Your tone was dry.

“Damn right. Let's go to the city.”

“Can’t you go bother Getou-san?”

“He isn’t as fun.”

You turned your head to look at him, just in time to see him pull apart a chocolate bar. Your eyes widened in horror.

“No!” You shoved him hard and he toppled off the bed with a loud ‘oof’, until all you could see was his legs hanging in the air.

“What the fuck?” His tone was more baffled than it was pained. You saw his messy head of hair pop up over the edge of the bed, his eyes wide, glasses nowhere to be seen.

“You’ll get chocolate on my sheets!”

“So you pushed me off?” Before he could pull himself back up, you rushed forward, trying to keep him down, slipping off the edge and falling right on top of him. You grabbed the hand with the chocolate, prying it from his fingers. You placed it carefully on your side table, finally sighing and leaning back, looking down at the boy before you. Or more accurately, under you.

Satoru was wearing a huge, toothy grin on his face, wiggling his eyebrows. He seemed to have completely forgotten his chocolate. His hands rested on your bare thighs, fingers just shy of the hem of your shorts.

“You know what, you can keep the chocolate. I’m fine right here.”

You glared at him, standing up to walk away, but not before you dug a foot into his stomach. Satoru groaned, but still grinned, grabbing your ankle.

“You should just let things happen, baby. We’d be great together, you know?”

You didn’t let his words get to you, nor did you let your mind dwell on how soft his fingers felt around your ankle, or how his hands had felt on the bare skin of your thighs. You couldn’t think about it, because nothing Satoru did was real. He was just playing. He was a good friend who tried annoying you as much as possible. That’s it.

It didn’t matter that he whined your name whenever you ignored him, or how he would wrap his arms around you until you were curled under him, or how he would pin your arms down so you wouldn’t struggle when he laid sloppy, obnoxious kisses on your cheeks and forehead. Your couch was his permanent bed, and he claimed he was there because your TV was bigger than his. You couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just buy a TV for his room. He was loaded.

You don’t know at what point everyone started assuming you were dating, but when Shoko vocalized this perception, you felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on you.

“We are not dating. What the fuck? I can barely stand him.”

You ignored the petulant ‘hey’ that left his lips, focused on your upperclassman across the table from you. Shoko was blank-faced, giving you a look that said ‘really?’. You didn’t back down.

“We aren’t! We’re good friends, yes, but-”

A snort from beside you, and finally you turned your head to glare at him. Satoru’s lips were twisted into an amused smirk, and the sight of it annoyed you. You felt like everyone at the table- Shoko, Suguru, Kento, Haibara- were laughing at you. Your face burned in embarrassment, so you lashed out at the one man who always bore the brunt of it.

“Why are you smirking? Wipe that off your face.”

He shrugged, ignoring what you said. “I just think it’s funny that you think we aren’t dating.”

“We’re not.”

“Sure.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “We’re not! What the fuck are you on? We’ve never even kissed!”

Just talking about this was making you squirm uncomfortably, let alone in front of all your friends.

“You were practically in my lap in the car on our way here.”

You smacked his bicep hard. “There were six of us! And it was a tight fit! And- you offered!”

He was grinning by now, leaning closer to you. “Of course I did. We’re dating.”

You blinked, shocked into silence. A few moments passed. “This is gaslighting. You’re gaslighting me.”

You heard a snort and turned your head towards Haibara, who tried to disguise it as a cough.

“Okay, if we’re not dating, explain this to me,” Satoru began, pulling your attention back to him. You tried to will your heart into beating slower.

“Would you have put your legs in Suguru’s lap?”

You sputtered, feeling your face burn as you glanced at the man in question, he looked unbothered.

“No! That’s- no.”

“Nanami? Haibara?”

You didn’t answer.

“Shoko?”

“She’s my senpai.”

“I’m your senpai too.”

You rolled your eyes. “You sure don’t act like it.”

“So what you’re saying is,” Satoru continued, ignoring your quip. His voice was jovial, slightly teasing, and you dreaded where he was going with this. “There’s some stuff you would do only with me?”

You glared at him.

“Almost like…… being exclusive?”

“We are not dating.” Your argument was beginning to sound weaker and weaker. Everyone around you was staring at you with amusement as the gears turned at your head.

“Okay.” Satoru smiled, and you almost reeled back at how soft it was.

“We’re not.”

Oh my god.

……………………..

It took three or four days later to finally get your thoughts straight enough to talk to Satoru about the….. dating incident.

You had been over analyzing everything, trying to look at every interaction between you and him from a third person’s perspective, and you realized how abnormal it really was. No normal friends interacted the way you and Satoru did. Relentless teasing, touching, hugging. The unending push and tug. Caught in the whirlwind that was Gojo Satoru, you had not noticed how close you were to him, and how dependent you were on his presence.

Maybe he was right. In some strange way, you two were a couple.

You sat with this newfound information, feeling it burn and chip away at your skin, leaving you raw and vulnerable. How were you supposed to bring this up with him? You watched the figures on the TV before you bound around, not absorbing anything that was being said, your attention only on the slowly simmering pot of water that was your brain and your thoughts. When your door swung open with a loud squeak, you finally looked up.

Satoru was humming something to himself as he lumbered in, spotting you on the couch and grinning.

“Hey, what are your dinner plans? I'm craving Korean barbecue.”

You stared at him for a bit, as he toed his shoes off and tried to struggle out of his uniform jacket. It settled in you like a soft cloud, the knowledge that there was nothing to talk about. Your heart skipped a beat, and you stood up.

“I’m going to change.” Your voice was low.

Satoru looked up, lips pursed into a confused pout that you almost thought was cute. “Why? You look great.”

You muscled past the compliment, not letting it get to you. “I’m going to put on a nice outfit. And do my hair. And you’re going to go change too. Dress fancy. It’s a date.”

Satoru watched you, mouth open like a goldfish, as you puttered through the room and to your closet. He was frozen, dumbfounded. It was a new look on him. And you discovered that you liked it very much. You feigned innocence as you turned to look back at him.

“What’s wrong? I thought we were dating?”

That seemed to break his trance, and a cheshire grin took over his face. He didn’t even bother putting his shoes back on, gathering them in his hands and bounding out the door, making you laugh at how eager he was.

Talking was overrated anyway. This way was more fun.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n

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megu-meow · 1 year ago

Text

how I met your mother - Gojo Satoru

dad!Gojo x fem.reader

Summary: I recently found out that many TV series and other Manga/Anime are canon in JJK - How I Met Your Mother included - and I couldn't stop thinking about how Gojo would re-enact the thing after watching it. Moreover, all of you deserve some teeth-rotting fluff after that horrifying manga chapter. Enjoy!

"Why am I here?" Megumi asked with irritation laced through his voice as he sat down on the couch, beside the two white-haired rascals he calls his siblings.

"I'm gonna tell you guys the story of how I met your mother!" Gojo exclaims as he sits on his desk chair, in his office at Jujutsu Tech. The desk usually sits in the corner, right beside the window, but now is pushed in front of the couch, so that he can sit face to face with his children, the setup similar to the one in his recent favorite American TV show, How I Met Your Mother. The only difference is that the whole scenario is not played in his home office, but the one at his actual workplace, because you declared your home a Jujutsu-Free Zone.

"Gojo-Sensei..." Megumi sighs as he starts rubbing his forehead with annoyance "I was five when the two of you got together, I heard the story of how you two met a million times, this is not new to me." he explains as three sets of cerulean blue eyes gawk at him from all directions.

"Mama..." the two-year-old girl sitting on Megumi's left puffs with a ridiculously adorable pout on her face as soon as she hears the mention of her mother, and the five-year-old boy on the other side of the couch whiffs the air aggressively with the plush sword his father was forced to buy him on their way to the school.

"I know, Megumi, but this is a special occasion, you're gonna sit through the whole thing again so that you can experience this amazing fairytale with your beloved siblings." the tall sorcerer explains and his attention turns to his beloved daughter, Munchkin as he refers to her. The little girl slowly climbs into Megumi's lap, the boy instinctively helping her settle down as he embraces her lightly from behind, tickling her sides, and the room is filled with childish laughter. His son, or as he refers to him, Nugget, drops the toy from his tiny hands and huffs in annoyance, suddenly jealous of his sister's ability to gain the undivided attention of his favorite person, his older brother. "Now, all of you pay attention."

It was his first day at Tokyo Jujutsu High. Given his extravagant upbringing, Gojo Satoru was a self-centered douchebag with a horrible attitude. He first met Geto Suguru, the only friend he ever claimed he had, the dark-haired sorcerer with a warm smile and polite demeanor, the polar opposite of him. The two formed an unbearable duo and as soon as you walked into the classroom with the three first-year students, four months after the school year began, you knew you had to keep yourself as far away from the boys as possible. You became good friends with Shoko though, the two of you had plenty of common interests and your personalities were similar as well.

You tried avoiding Gojo at all times, you thought he was irritating based on his behavior in class and his rude comments behind your back, ones he whispered to Geto, making your dark-haired classmate laugh obnoxiously. However, Your efforts to stay as far away from him were proven to be useless when Yaga paired the two of you for a mission.

"So, why is a clan princess like you avoiding the strongest sorcerer of her time? Didn't your family tell you about the power and influence my family holds over the jujutsu society?" he asks you cockily and you chuckle dismissively at his words.

"I'm not a clan princess, Gojo! On the contrary... I come from a family of non-sorcerers and I was an outcast my whole life because I kept seeing things that others couldn't." you said as you kept hitting the curse with sharp daggers that you wielded in the air with your cursed technique "And I don't care about your power or your privilege, because I'm only here to help others." you make your point even clearer as you throw your last dagger with extra force, exorcising the curse without breaking a sweat.

"And that was the moment..." Gojo begins to explain to his overly bored children, but Megumi interrupts him.

"... when you realized you wanted to pursue the only girl that ever gave you attitude, a.k.a. Y/n. We know, it's getting boring."

"Don't roll your eyes at me, Megumi! This is an amazing story about the two people that raised you. Show some respect!" Satoru exclaims with an offended expression and Munchkin hides her face in her tiny hands, thinking that she is the one who is being scolded, trying to hide from her father's light-hearted attempt at discipline.

"Papa, can we have Splendid Sushi?" the white-haired boy asks, boredom evident from his facial expression.

"Nugget, you just ate before we came here." Satoru pouts, clearly disappointed in his kids.

"I know, I'm still hungry."

"I'm gonna wrap this story up quickly and we can go eat after." he gives in, a sad expression on his face.

After that moment you shared on your mission, Gojo changed. He was still annoying and arrogant, but he tried acting like a decent human being around you. In one instance Suguru explained that the remarks they exchanged with each other were making fun of Yaga-Sensei, not you. He felt the need to clarify that after Satoru complained to him about how much you seemed to hate his guts.

These things shed a different light on Gojo, you noticed how he was very attentive when it came to the small details you shared about yourself when the four of you first years were hanging out. He also ensured that you got home safe whenever you went out as a group and he even gave you his jacket so that you wouldn't catch a cold.

He also started complimenting you, your looks, your advancement with your technique, and he thoroughly enjoyed how you blushed every time he called you sweetheart or any other nickname he came up with on the spot. However, you were stubborn, even more challenging than some curses he fought.

"I'm gonna wife you up one day, sweet girl! Even if it's the last thing I do." he whispers into your ear as your head is resting on his shoulder while you're being driven home by an auxiliary assistant from a challenging mission. He thought you were sleeping, but you could hear his muffled words and your lips curled into a slight smile. Because Satoru was good, kind-hearted, and loving in his dorky, obnoxious way.

"Papa, where is Mama?" Munchkin asks with tears in her eyes, clearly distressed from the long period of time she had to endure without her Mama. And the only thing Satoru can do is get up from his chair, walk towards his little baby and embrace her with his strong and bulky arms, trying to comfort her, because he knows exactly how terrible it feels being away from you. He coos at her lovingly, kissing her chubby cheeks and he sits back down to continue with his story. He also puts out his hand, using blue to fetch a pink fluffy blankie he keeps in his office. Megumi rolls his eyes at this, he finds it annoying how Gojo uses his techniques so unnecessarily.

A month after Satoru's not-so-secret confession, at Nanami Kento's birthday party, it happens. Your first kiss. For the most part, the party goes terribly for both of you. He is standing in a corner, drinking seltzers orange soda furiously as he observes how a third-year is trying to hit on you with cringey pick up lines that make Gojo want to throw up. You seem uncomfortable with his advances, but Satoru doesn't intervene, because he has no right to. You two are not dating, you are just very close friends. Nothing less, certainly nothing more. However, as that idiot steps closer to you and you try to bring an end to his flirting, Satoru observes the deep discomfort in your eyes and the twirling of your hands, trying to wield some glass shards with your technique from the broken bottle spilled onto the floor. He decides to intervene, and with a single clap of his hands, he's beside you, his fingers slip into yours, stopping you from using your technique, knowing that using it without permission on school grounds could get you in trouble. The third-year leaves instantly once Gojo arrives and there you stand in front of the white-haired sorcerer with thankful eyes.

"Thank you, Satoru!" you say and from the many shots of sake cups of tea you had, you gain a newfound courage within you to get on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek. Or so you think, because in the last moment, he turns his head and your lips land on his. It's a short kiss, basically a peck, but the sobering reality of the consequences of your actions hits you like a train.

"I'm sorry, that was a mistake..." you mutter and you run out of the party, leaving him there disappointed.

After that, you don't talk to each other for two weeks. Gojo tries in the beginning, but you stop all of his attempts because you are too ashamed of your actions. After a while he becomes petty himself, claiming that it's for the better and saying the two of you wouldn't have lasted in the first place. He does it in the usual Gojo fashion, making sure that you hear every word leaving his mouth. He wants you to hurt just as much as he is, but as soon as he spots the puffy, red circles under your eyes, he regrets ever being mean towards you.

"Dada, why you make Mama cry?" the toddler in his lap looks at him curiously, her lips in a pout, clearly disappointed with her father.

"Hey! That's not true, Mama made me cry first, Munchkin."

"You never cried in your life, Gojo." Megumi intervenes and if Satoru could kill with his Six Eyes, he would annihilate the Fushiguro kid right now.

"Is the story over, Papa? You said we'd go to Splendid Sushi after." Nugget whines once again and Satoru knows he has to finish up soon, otherwise, his son is going to throw a tantrum.

Satoru rushes into the medical ward upon hearing the news. You went out on a mission alone and you were brought back by Yaga himself, on a stretcher. He doesn't know any more details than that, but he's frantic. As soon as he spots you on one of the disgustingly hard hospital beds, being treated by Shoko with blood running down your beautiful face, Satoru is standing beside you, holding your hand. You are unconscious, but it doesn't matter, his six eyes tell him that your cursed energy is stable, you have been knocked out, that's all.

"Step aside for a second, loverboy, I have to heal the cut on her arm." Shoko says with a smirk and Gojo steps away hesitantly, watching carefully as your scars slowly disappear. The healer leaves the room as soon as she finishes and Satoru is quick to return to your side, his fingers laced with yours once again.

"Gojo?"

"Am I not Satoru anymore, sweet thing?" he asks disappointedly and your mouth curls up slightly. You could have died, but he's still hung up on the way you addressed him. You look down at your hands, not able to respond. You don't quite know what you two are anymore. "I was really scared, you know? I cannot lose my favorite girl this soon, otherwise I would go insane."

"It's not a big deal, Satoru..."

"But it is...Don't you get it?! I love you." he confesses, he seems furious, but his eyes glisten with the utmost adoration "It's you, it's always been you. The one who keeps me grounded, the one that makes it worthy to be the strongest, because all this power is meant to protect you, sweetheart. So please don't ever go two weeks and four days without talking to me and for the love of god, please don't go out there on reckless missions without me because I don't want to hear about you coming back on a stretcher ever again." he brings your hands up to his lips, kissing them gently and you swear you can see tears swelling in his precious eyes.

"I love you too, Satoru." you reply, your voice barely a whisper. He's shocked, for a second, the next he's leaning closer asking for permission to kiss you properly. You grant it to him and he unites your lips in a long-awaited kiss, one that seals the fate of the rest of your lives, without even knowing it.

"That day, in the hospital ward of Jujutsu Tech, I promised my classmate, the girl I fell deeply in love with, that I would protect her no matter what. That I would love and cherish her with all of my might till the end of my life. I promised her that one day I would marry her, when I went back home with you, Megumi, and told her I was planning on raising you at eighteen, while she simply agreed to help me all the way, no questions asked. Three years later I vowed to her that I would be beside her in sickness and in health. When you rascals were born, I promised I would take care of her and you guys with all the energy I have. Deep down I knew from the moment she stepped into that classroom when I was fifteen that she would be the one for me. And that kids, is how I met your mother." he finishes with a fond smile on his face, but it quickly falters as he notices that Nugget is once again preoccupied with whacking the air with the toy from earlier, Megumi is on his phone and Munchkin is sleeping soundly in his embrace.

Suddenly, he hears your footsteps from down the hall and your sing-song voice coming through the door.

"Where's my beloved family at?" you ask playfully, opening the door to his office, and peeking in. Upon spotting the sleeping toddler in his arms you keep quiet, approaching the two of them and you take your daughter into your embrace. You look around the room, observing the changes, the very bored teenager and your rascal of a son sitting on the couch and you quickly connect the pieces of the puzzle.

"You did it, didn’t you, Satoru?"

"What, sweetheart?" he asks faking innocence.

"The How I Met Your Mother Thing? The idea you were talking to me about the other night."

"Maybe."

"Oh, my poor babies, you had to sit through that cliche story. How long did your dad keep you bored, Megumi?" you ask, your tone teasing.

"Actually it wasn't that long after Nugget started whining." the raven-haired boy explained, looking fondly at his only mother figure.

"I'm so sorry, guys, let's go to Splendid Suchi, okay? That would make you all feel better." you add, leaving a loving kiss on all the kids' heads. Your son lifts his head with incredible speed upon hearing you mention his favourite restaurant, up until now he didn't even notice your presence, too preoccupied with his new toy. Suddenly everyone is up on their feet, ready to have a scrumptious meal.

You and Satoru stay behind a bit as the two boys run out of the school and Megumi summons his demon dogs so that the two of them can play with the fluffy shikigami.

"When are you gonna tell ME that fairytale of yours, angel boy? I'm really curious how you scored a clan princess like me." you ask your husband jokingly and he chuckles, raising his sunglasses up his nose. His hands quickly snake around your waist, pulling you into a loving kiss. Your daughter finally awakens lifting her head from your shoulder, interrupting the beautiful moment between the two of you.

"Mama!" she exclaims, embracing you tightly, her tired eyes fluttering as you bring her closer to your chest.

"Not only did you steal your Mama from me you get her titties as well?! This world is truly cruel."

#jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk imagines #gojo imagine #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #jjk x you #gojou satoru x you #dad gojo #jjk imganie #satoru imagine #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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darknight3904 · 8 months ago

Text

Through the Years

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ᴀ ɢʟɪᴍᴘꜱᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ɢᴏᴊᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴄᴜʀꜱɪɴɢ. ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ/ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ. ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴛʏ (ɴᴏ ꜱᴇx) ɴᴀᴏʏᴀ ᴢᴇɴɪɴ (ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ɢʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴇᴅꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ)

ɪ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ ɪɴ ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ʙᴀʙʏ. ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ᴢᴇɴɪɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ᴏᴠᴇʀ 5ᴋ (ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍʏ ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴇʏᴇᴅ ᴋɪɴɢ)

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

December 7, 2005 (Gojo: 16 You: 15)

"You know you're practically a senior citizen now."

Gojo's head whips around, insulted at the idea of being called old. Sure he's got white hair but he's just turned 16, not 61.

"You're only a year younger than me, y'know. You'll be 16 soon too." He grins

Gojo grins as you roll your eyes next to him.

"At least I don't have white hair already." You point out

"Whatever, at least I'm not two inches tall." Gojo laughs, resting an elbow on your head.

"I'm still growing!" You defend, angry at the idea of staying the same height forever. "Get your ugly arm off me!"

"I'll have you know my arm is gorgeous," Gojo says, blue eyes catching the sunlight as he easily matches your pace.

"Mmhmm." You roll your eyes

To keep it simple, Satoru Gojo got under your skin. Perhaps it was that annoying smile or maybe the fact that your clan notoriously hated his. All you knew was that he drove you insane and you wished he'd just disappear so he could never bother you again.

"Where is everyone? I thought we agreed to meet here at 4," Gojo whined next to you.

"Worried your boyfriend stood you up?" You tease. thinking of the dark-haired boy who was usually joined to Gojo's hip most days.

"Suguru would never do that to me." Gojo smiles, unwrapping a lollipop he had stuffed in his pocket.

"I dunno, what if he finally got sick of you, Gojo?" You say, knowing it was impossible.

A soft ding interrupts your conversation with the boy and Gojo fishes his phone out of his pocket.

"HA! Told you he'd never stand me up!"

Gojo's phone is obnoxiously close to your face as he prompts you to read his chat with Geto.

On our way. Nanami needed to be convinced.

Another ding sounds and a picture of your fellow first years pops up Haibara is dragging Nanami down the sidewalk by his arms.

"Idiots." You murmur

"I see that smile! You got a crush on Nanamin?" Gojo's voice fills your ears as his pointer finger pokes at your face

"Piss off, Gojo." You groan "I hope one of Geto's curses eat you."

April 2006 (Gojo: 16 You: 15)

"You totally just cheated!" You accuse the blonde across from you

"Have you considered that you're just terrible at Jenga?" Nanami asked

"Have you considered that you just moved the table during my turn so you'd win and not me!" You groan

"It's just Jenga, Zenin. We can just start over." Haibara points out

"Not with a cheater playing." You roll your eyes

Haibara smiles as he begins to pick up the fallen blocks from the floor. You had been on edge for a few days now and your temper was beginning to get a bit out of hand. He had asked Nanami what he thought was the matter and the two of them had come to the conclusion that it had to do with your visit with the head of the Zenin clan.

"That's enough for today. I'm going to take a nap." Nanami declares

"Ugh, what a party pooper." Haibara teases, elbowing you.

"In case you forgot, Zenin here did me the favor of hitting me hard enough that I nearly passed out today in training." Nanami reminds the two of you.

Ah right, that. You had gone a bit too hard today sparring with Nanami.

"Oh, I forgot about that," Haibara says

"Yes. You should let Zenin get some rest. Her technique is draining, she's said so herself.

Sure, Phantom wasn't exactly easy to pull off but you wanted to keep playing. You wanted to kick Nanami's ass in Jenga.

"Alright. Let's eat dinner together tonight though. I have these awesome cookies in my room you'll both like." Haibara declares before following Nanami out of your room.

Perhaps Nanami was correct, a nap did sound enjoyable right now. A quick nap and then maybe you'd cook something to share with the boys tonight. Perhaps a couple of rice balls or maybe some chicken.

No sooner had you gotten comfortable under your blankets that your door swung open and Gojo was running into your room, Geto close on his heels.

"Satoru, you should always knock on a girl's door before barging in." Geto scolds his friend for you.

"It's fine, Suguru. It's not like she's getting changed or anything." Gojo grins looking down at you who had remained buried under your covers.

"And what if I was?" You scowl from your blankets

"I would've screamed in horror and asked Suguru to exorcise you." Gojo says flashing that oddly charming smile of his.

You're sure he could get away with murder if he just flashed those pearly whites.

You ignore the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as you sit up.

"I was about to take a nap but I guess it can wait." You say

"A nap? What are you four?" Gojo teases

"Yeah probably." You agree

"Not everyone is as energetic as you are Satoru." Geto reminded the white haired boy

"Yeah, what Geto said. Not everyone is a walking ball of energy." You say

Geto had always been your favorite of Jujutsu High's strongest duo. He didn't call you short or try to steal your food. Or maybe it was his long hair that seemed to always look better than yours.

Plus then there was that time Gojo snuck into your room to try and shave your eyebrows off. Sometimes you swore the elders of the Gojo clan were sending the six eyes user after you on purpose.

"Whatever, loser." Gojo said trying to reach and mess up your hair.

"Would you stop that! I'm not a child!" You groan

"Then why're you the size of one?" Gojo laughs

Even Geto laughed at that one as you shove Gojo out of the way.

"Why are you two even here? Can't you go bother Shoko for once?" You ask

"Shoko said you've been in a bad mood the past few days." Geto started

"So we've come to cheer you up!" Gojo finished

You watched wide-eyed as Gojo dumped the bag he was holding onto your bed. Every possible sweet fell out accompanied by different DVDs.

"For the record, I told him it was too much candy but he didn't listen," Geto says as Gojo riffles through the movie choices.

One DVD case catches your eye as Gojo argues with Geto about his sugar choices.

"Are you a Rachel McAdams fan, Gojo?" You ask as you hold up Mean Girls.

"Duh." Gojo grins before swiping the case from your hand to pop it into the player you had

"Raise your hand if you have ever been personally victimized by Regina George."

"Y'know you're kinda like Regina, Satoru," Geto says observing the movie.

"Am not." Gojo rolls his eyes sipping at his soda

"Sure you are." Geto smiles

"Yeah right." Gojo scoffs "Whaddaya think, Zenin?"

Gojo looked at you for an answer but was met with you asleep next to him, head resting on one of those massive stuffed animals you kept. You're drooling a bit and he can't help but think that you're a bit cute like this.

He reaches to shake you awake, determined to get your opinion on whether or not he is like a spoiled teenage girl.

"Let her rest. I heard that her and the other first years went pretty hard today training. Nanami took a big blow to the head from her using her technique." Geto stopped his best friend

"I wish she'd show me her technique. She explained it to me once but I still don't get it." Gojo huffed

"I'm pretty sure Phantom just multiplies her and then she closes the distance with her real body. I watched her use it on Haibara a few months ago." Geto explains

"Whatever...I still want to see it with my own eyes." Gojo declared

The TV hummed softly as they sat in silence while Regina George got hit by a bus after rushing out of her school.

"Why do you think she's been in such a bad mood recently? I heard her yelling about Jenga earlier." Geto asked

"I'm not entirely sure but I think it probably has to do with Nabito Zenin." Gojo said "His archaic way of doing things is probably upsetting her. I heard that she had some meeting with him recently."

Geto lets out a soft hum of acknowledgment.

"Nabito is probably trying to stick her in some arranged marriage. I wouldn't be surprised if it was with his own brat, Naoya." Gojo elaborates

"You know a lot about the Zenin Clan, Satoru," Geto points out

"Well the last Six Eyes and Infinity user was killed by one of them, so I think I'm entitled to a little knowledge. " Gojo defends

"Yeah, yeah. Maybe you should try to be a little nicer to her though, especially if you know what might be going on with her clan." Geto suggests

"I'm perfectly nice." He defends

"Yesterday you said you were going to shave her head in her sleep because she ate one of your french fries."

"I was joking!"

November 2006 (Gojo: 16 You: 16)

"Happy Birthday, Zenin!" Haibara called "Have fun with your family!"

You smiled and waved at Haibara and Nanami as you got into the car that had been sent to pick you up.

Fun. This trip would be anything but fun.

Snow was falling as you entered your childhood home. The soft scent of lavender filled your nose and calmed your nerves.

"You're back! I'm still cooking!" Your mother exclaimed as she emerged from the kitchen

"Yeah, there wasn't much traffic." You reply, trying to release yourself from her bone-crushing hug. Seriously with her strength, she'd probably be able to exercise curses.

"Go wash up. Your father will be back soon and he is bringing Nabito-san and his son." Your mother says

Dinner is quiet. Or rather you're quiet next to your mother while Nabito and your father discuss something about cursed techniques and something about Toji Zenin's kid.

"Your face is plain." the boy across from you suddenly says

Your mother momentarily freezes but quickly regains her composure.

"Yes well, sometimes plain features are best. Just think you wouldn't want every man looking at your wife." Your mother says

Did she just agree to you being plain featured? You looked like her for crying out loud!

"Whatever," Naoya mumbled before shoving more rice into his mouth.

What a pig.

You're not entirely sure why it's happening. Perhaps it was the dinner with Naoya that had your brain going crazy. But ever since you got back from your parents' home you can't stop staring at Gojo. Was it because he represented everything your clan hated? Or maybe it was because he was insufferably annoying? Whatever the reason, you swore he was drawing you in.

"You should stop staring. You might put a hole in his head." Shoko says

"I wasn't-"

"Don't lie to me." Shoko smiles knowingly

You definitely weren't staring at Satoru Gojo. Nope. Not in a million years. And you definitely didn't get butterflies whenever he looked your way. That would be ridiculously, ridiculous.

August 2007 (Gojo: 17 You: 16)

"I don't get why I wasn't assigned with you two. I mean we're always going on missions together." You grumble

"They probably need you to help Gojo train more. Your technique is perfect for him to strengthen his Six Eyes, Zenin." Haibara points out

"It's just a grade two. We'll be back before sundown." Nanami assures

"Yeah, then we can watch a movie and get fat off popcorn," Haibara says

"I'm choosing tonight. I don't want to watch another Pirates of the Caribbean movie." Nanami declares

"But Jack Sparrow is so sexy!" You groan

Haibara laughs in agreement with you.

"See you later, Zenin! I can't wait to bully Nanami into watching Pirates of the Caribbean with you tonight!" Haibara declares

See you later, Zenin!

See you later.

You should've gotten into that damn car with them. Your technique was better than both of theirs. Maybe if you had...just maybe you wouldn't be staring down at half of your friend.

Geto was next to you, looking down at his body, He was silent, long hair blocking his face from you.

Nanami sat behind you, a damp cloth over his eyes.

"You need to rest for now, Nanami," Geto suggests, his soft voice filling the silence.

"Damn it. I should've gone with you two." You say, your voice dripping in regret.

"You could've gotten killed too, Zenin." Nanami sighs, his voice is tight like he's holding back tears.

A soft summer breeze blows through your hair as you sit on a bench. You had left Geto and Nanami with Haibara, not wanting to see the bloody sheet he was under anymore.

"Hey."

You glance up from where you had been picking at your nails, willing yourself to hold it together.

Gojo stood over you, hand stretched out with a piece of candy in it.

"I heard what happened." He said sitting next to you as you unwrapped the candy and popped it in your mouth.

"You wanna talk about it?" Gojo asked

"Not really." You sighed

"You don't seem too sad," Gojo said quietly

"I think I will be...later on. Once I'm alone." You say

"Yeah, me too." He replied.

Silence enveloped the two of you as you focused on the taste of the candy in your mouth.

"I gave you the green apple. It's my least favorite." Gojo said

"Thanks." You reply

September 2007 (Gojo: 17 You: 16)

In accordance with Jujutsu regulations, Geto Suguru is sentenced to death.

For once in his life Gojo Satoru is not buzzing around you like an excited puppy. You can see him, sitting alone on the steps of Jujutsu High.

The deaths of 112 people including his own parents rests on Geto's hands. You couldn't believe it when Nanami read the report to you. But now, seeing Gojo alone confirmed it.

You don't know what you're going to say to Gojo as you approach him. What do you say to the person who's just lost their best friend to a life of being a curse user?

"I know you're lurking back there," Gojo says

Damn it.

"I wanted to give you this." You mumble tossing him a lollipop before sitting next to him, probably a bit too close for someone who swore you weren't interested in him.

Gojo softly smiles and accepts the candy.

"Did he say what he wants to do next?" You ask

"He wants to exterminate all non-sorcerers from the world," Gojo says

An unattainable goal.

"That's impossible." You say

"That won't stop him." Gojo points out

A soft weight taps you and the sweet scent of Satoru Gojo's shampoo fills your nose as he rests his head on your shoulder.

"I'm sure you'll see him again. Even if it's not for a long time, you'll talk to each other again." You assure him.

"Yeah, I hope so," Gojo admits

His voice is a whisper in the breeze, a prayer for the future.

Christmas 2009 (Gojo: 20 You: 19)

"You have to stay quiet, Gojo!" You groan looking at your friend next to you

"This costume is so itchy though! The beard is gonna make my skin all red!" He whines

"Suck it up." You command

Gojo lets out another groan but helps you finish arranging the copious amounts of gifts he had ended up buying for Megumi and Tsumiki.

"Alright, it's perfect. Now go stand next to the tree."

Gojo listens to you and lets out a huff of embarrassment when you snap his picture.

"That better be for your eyes only." He says

"Oh definitely don't worry about it." You brush him off before quickly sending the picture off to Nanami and Shoko. They're sure to get a kick out of it.

"Remind me why I asked you to help with these brats again," Gojo says as he notices you sending his picture.

"Cuz' these brats would be dead if you were the only one watching them, Gojo." You say

"I'm a great caregiver." He says

"You wanted to get Megumi a pink tutu for Christmas." You say

"He would've looked great!" Gojo defends

"He would've set his Demon Dogs after you." You say

"Would not."

"Would too."

"Would not!'

"Would too!"

"What's going on?"

You and Gojo stop your bickering to see sleepy-eyed children hovering on the steps, dark hair out of place and a frizzy mess atop their little heads.

"Santa and I were just arguing about what cookie is best!" You grin

"That's not Santa. That's Gojo in that costume you ordered off Amazon last week." Megumi points out. "I saw the order details on your laptop."

Who the hell does this kid think he is?

"What? No! This is the real Santa from the North Pole!" You scramble

"Megumi, just go with it!" Tsumiki whispers to her little brother, "They obviously don't know Santa's not real!"

Is it a crime to toss a child out a window?

"The jig is up!" Gojo declares beside you as he rips off his fake beard. "Now let's get to the real fun stuff! Mistletoe!"

Gojo grabs a sprig of mistletoe from between the couch cushions. Curse him and his hiding spots.

"Pucker up, hot stuff!" Gojo says as he reaches for you and wraps an arm around your waist to pull you close.

"Gross." You say pushing his face away from you, you hope he can't see how red you are.

Why the hell was he like this? The past few months Gojo had been all over you. Be it flirty gestures or just plain Gojo weirdness, he was consuming every bit of you and you weren't sure if it was a bad thing.

"You're blushing," Megumi says

"Aha! I knew you wanted a kiss from me!" Gojo exclaims chasing after you as you try to escape up the stairs.

Seriously, is it a crime to toss a kid out a window?

March 2011 (Gojo: 21 You: 20)

The harsh slam of the front door wakes Gojo from the peace that had taken over the house. Megumi and Tsumiki had gone to bed and he was kicked back on the sofa, face mask on and Harry Potter was running on TV.

"I'm going to seriously kill that asshole one day." You groan as you rummage through the fridge

"I take it the meeting with Naoya didn't go well," Gojo said

"Didn't go well is the understatement of the millennium." You groan sitting down next to him a slice of cold pizza in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

"Tell me about it," Gojo says pulling your feet into his lap.

He listens to you vent about your "fiance" and how annoying he is. Naoya wants you to cut your hair a certain way and to stop wearing the color red. Apparently, you also need to start wearing lipstick now according to the man as well.

"Honestly I hope he gets hit by a bus tomorrow." You groan "And what the hell is wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing. I think it suits you nicely." Gojo smiles, knowing it's true. You're as pretty as a picture even when you're mad at the world.

"Thanks." You sigh "That wasn't the worst of it though"

"Oh? What else did the scumbag say this time?" Gojo asked, genuinely curious

"Well beyond my appearance, he asked if I was still a virgin today." You say

"Are you?"

"Ow!" Gojo yelps as he rubs his arm where you punched him

"Yeah, I am you idiot!" You seethe, placing your wine and half-eaten pizza on the coffee table, "He's only asking cuz' he found out that I'm spending time around you and I guess he's worried about impurity."

"We're just friends," Gojo says "Besides who cares if a girl's slept with someone before? I know I wouldn't."

His words feel like glue in his mouth. Can you tell he wants to be more than friends?

"I know that, and you know that. But he must think I'm whoring myself out to you in exchange for a place to live." You say sadly

Gojo can sense that Naoya's words are under your skin and bouncing around in that pretty head of yours. A head that should only be filled with the happiest of thoughts, preferably ones with him in it.

"Hey, forget about him. It's none of his business what company you keep and what you look like." He assures, reaching his arms out to pull you into his side.

"He's technically my fiance y'know." You sigh as you let him reposition your body so your head rests on his chest. "I'm supposed to want to please him since he's a man."

There's that stupid Zenin clan mindset, that Gojo can't stand.

"Screw that! Pleasing someone just cuz they're a guy is so 200 years ago." He says

"Tell me about it." You groan

"I could just send a hollow purple his way if you want." Gojo suggests, fully serious "Just a small one. It would be the perfect way to get rid of him."

"And what? Start a full-on war between two ancient clans over me?" You laugh

"Of course," Gojo confirms, pulling you closer to him

To him, you're worth starting a thousand wars if it means you'll finally let him be by your side all the time.

"By the way, is that a charcoal mask?" You ask

"Yup. Got it from the mall today, gotta stay hot for the single ladies out there."

"Gojo?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a really weird guy."

December 2011 (Gojo: 22 You: 21)

"We have to stay quiet, 'gumi." The girl reminds her little brother

"What's the point? How do we even know they'll like this?" He asked

"Who wouldn't enjoy breakfast in bed?" Tsumiki asked

She had a point.

"Yeah, but Gojo and Zenin don't even sleep in the same room. So are we surprising them separately?" Megumi asked as he poured orange juice into cups, he didn't think he had the balance to make it up the stairs with a tray of food.

"Nope! I checked Gojo's room before I woke you up. They're in his room together. I think she had a nightmare or something last night." Tsumiki says, "And we're not supposed to call her Zenin, remember? She said we could just use her first name."

"Oh, right," Megumi says

The couple? No, friends? Whatever they were, the two individuals that had taken him and his sister in were odd. Megumi was sure that Gojo was insane or maybe missing a piece of his brain. Just the other day Gojo had dangled him out the window for asking why he owned pink underwear as a 22-year-old. It was a genuine question on Megumi's part. As for you, you were definitely his favorite. You didn't try to dangle him out windows or mess up his hair, and most importantly you didn't constantly ask about his cursed technique.

Gojo was definitely the more annoying out of the two of you. How you put up with him was a mystery to Megumi. Tsumiki had once said that there was a "budding romance" between Gojo and You. Megumi thought she was reading too many of those romance books you bought her. Of course, he understood why she was saying that. You and Gojo were clearly close to each other, not to mention sometimes you even slept in each other's bedrooms. And then of course there's the many times when you're cooking and Gojo would wrap his arms around you from behind.

Alright, fine maybe Tsumiki was right about the romance.

"Alright, they're done. What do you think?" Tsumiki asks as she places two plates of something on the tray that sits in front of him.

"What are they?" He asks

"They're pancakes." Tsumiki blinked at Megumi as though it was obvious

"Right, of course." Megumi didn't want to make her angry, after all the last time they got in a fight Tsumiki pulled his hair so hard he swore he was partly bald in that spot for months.

"Ok lets go. You get the silverware and the drinks." She says

Gojo's bedroom is so dark, that Megumi nearly trips on his own feet as he blindly follows his sister.

Tsumiki carefully set the tray of food on the desk that was covered in various papers and candy wrappers. Why was Gojo such a slob? Tsumiki pulls the curtains open so the morning light can invade the space.

Megumi carefully observes the pair in bed. Gojo's arm is wrapped securely around you and your head rests on his chest. Megumi finds himself wondering if his father and mother were ever like this. Not that it matters since he can't even remember either of them.

"Surprise!" Tsumiki shouts and Gojo's eyes fly open

"Whaaats going on?" You ask groggily

"We made breakfast!" Tsumiki smiles placing the tray in front of the two adults.

"I have orange juice." Megumi mumbles

"Oh wow!" You smile, rubbing at your eyes, and immediately sit up.

"What is it?" Gojo asks, white hair messier than usual.

Megumi knew it wasn't obvious that they were pancakes.

"Pancakes of course!" You smile at them and Megumi doesn't miss how you pinch Gojo and whisper "be nice" to the white-haired man.

"They have blueberries in them," Megumi says

Gojo's face falls at the idea of a breakfast lacking sugar.

"And chocolate chips." Tsumiki chimes in

Gojo's face is all smiles again as he cuts into the food.

"How is it?" His sister eagerly asks

"It's wonderful. Delicious. Thank you, Tsumiki and Megumi." You compliment

A wide smile breaks out across his sister's face and she grabs Megumi by the arm.

"Alright, we'll let you two eat in peace then." She smiles, practically skipping out of the room.

Just before Megumi closes the door, hushed voices reach his ears.

"Can I spit this out now? I don't think it's edible." Gojo asks

"I think mine has some eggshell in it." You reply

Hushed laughter follows and Megumi smiles to himself. Sure, the two of you were crazy but he wouldn't trade it for the world.

February 2012 (Gojo: 22 You: 21)

Gojo was sure he was actually insane. What the hell was he thinking buying this for you?

The ruby red box felt like a lead weight in his pocket as he approached you while you were slicing vegetables for tonight's supper. Maybe he shouldn't do this while you had a knife in your hand. What if you stabbed him? Well, his infinity would catch it, but still.

"Can I uh...talk to you?" He asked, well...no going back now

"Yeah, what's up?" You ask

"Can I talk to you without the knife in your hand?" He asks

"Satoru Gojo what did you do?" You accuse, immediately focusing on you

"Nothing! Why do you assume I did something?!" He cries

"Because the last time you started a sentence with "without the knife in your hand" You had encouraged Megumi to fight his school bully and then you got a call that Megumi punched a girl two years younger than him." You say

Oh right. He forgot about that.

"Alright well, no children were harmed this time. Now put the knife down." He said

You listen and he takes a big breath, he's going to need all the oxygen for this one.

"Look it might be stupid and I know Valentine's Day was last week but I got you something and I wanted to give it to you. I've actually had it since December but I keep chickening out" He explained fishing the box out of his pocket

"If that's an engagement ring I'll get the knife back out." You say eying him suspiciously.

"What? No! That would be crazy." Gojo laughs, he can feel his face burning. Fuck...he must be bright red.

"Alright good." You say taking the box

Gojo fidgets with the string that's sticking out of the sleeve of his shirt as you look at what he's done.

"Do you uh like it?" He asked

"I do. Why'd you get it for me?" You ask

Wasn't it obvious? He'd buy the whole universe for you if he could.

"You really don't have any idea?" He asks

"No...I don't." You say

Your face is relaxed, you're definitely not lying to him. You seriously have no idea that he's totally obsessed with you!

"Are you gonna say it? I still have to cut some carrots up." You sigh

Gojo lets out a noise that's so insane sounding he swears he got possessed by some evil spirit.

"I got it cuz' I thought it'd look great on you!" The words are coming out of his mouth like vomit, " And I really uh...uhm...I like you."

The last bit is so quiet he's sure you didn't hear it.

"Wow did I just get a shoujo romance confession from the Satoru Gojo himself?" You tease as his gaze remains fixed on his feet.

"Whatever. If you don't want it I'll take it back tomorrow." He grumbled

Silence falls over the two of you like a blanket and Gojo wishes he could bury himself alive. Of course, she's making fun of you! She's engaged! She's been engaged since she was 15! One necklace won't change that! Sure, her fiance was a total buttwipe but still...

"Satoru,"

His first name coming from your lips for the first time ever has his gaze snapping back up. He wishes that you'd say his name like that forever.

"I'm only teasing you. I like you too. I have for a while." You admit

"How long is a while?" He prods, suddenly filled with confidence

"None of your business, mister. Are you going to help me put this on?" You gesture to the box

Gojo is as gentle as he can be as he clips the necklace behind your neck.

"How do I look?" You ask

"Perfect." He smiles and pulls you towards him.

"I smell, Satoru. I haven't gotten to shower yet and I exrocsied a curse at a school earlier." You softly say

"Mmm, you smell good to me." Gojo says "You're always absolutely perfect. And now you're all mine."

An elated giggle leaves his body as he finally gets to kiss you for the first time. If only his 17-year-old self could see him now.

"That's disgusting."

You jump away from him and he wishes you hadn't.

"Megumi, how was school?" You ask and Gojo doesn't miss the way you're obviously flustered.

"It was good. Until I came home to see that." He says

"Well get used to it cuz' you'll be seeing a lot more of it." Gojo grins as he pulls you towards him and tosses an arm around your shoulders.

"She's all mine now, little man. You're not allowed to give her a Valentine's Day card ever again!"

"Satoru, stop that!"

"So are you two finally dating?" Tsumiki asked hopefully

"Course' we are. You don't come home to two people sucking face and expect them not to be officially a couple."

Gojo deserves the punch to the stomach you give him before resuming your vegetable cutting.

Next Part

Series Masterlist / My Masterlist

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