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jiminjamms · 7 months ago

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sex therapy :: 29. karma's a bitch

chapter tags/warnings: manipulative! naoya. naoya's anger issues continue. infidelity/adultery. extremely strong language. corruption. mentions of physical violence. family drama.

word count: 3.2k

notes: my sixty-hour work weeks have been taking a huge toll on me, so i apologize for this incredibly slow update. the good news is that i cannot take this corporate america bullshit anymore and will resign in the next two months. thank you for being patient! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Naoya had never felt this humiliated in his entire life.

When people said karma was a bitch, he never thought that it would actually make its way back to him. While he was not the most righteous person in the world, he was the Zenin CEO, for god’s sake! He was the leader to a multi-billion dollar conglomerate, the heir of a centuries-old bloodline.

Yet, here he was, charging back to his apartment like an irate animal.

He startled the lobby doormen upon his loud entry, and once he returned to his penthouse, he had to will every muscle in his body not to tear apart his abode in a rampage.

In his head, his encounter with Toji looped like a broken record, fueling his chagrin.

When Naoya sought to confront his cousin for the first time in months, he thought he had been prepared. He did not expect to end up digging himself into a deep hole surpassing the world's layers due to a judgment error—a slight miscalculation.

Correction: this miscalculation was anything but 'slight' because he wildly underestimated what felt like everything. Now, he bore the consequences of his mistakes after inadvertently turning himself into a laughingstock. Because his ego was his hamartia, he had become a mere jester in a story where he was meant to be the sole hero, and thus his ill feelings burned hotter than the surface of the Sun.

As much as he hated to admit this, Naoya had been shortsighted. He should have known better. Just weeks ago, he saw a vision filled with saccharine promises of a happy, comfortable life as the most powerful man in Japan imbued with power and wealth. He had been confident—a hundred percent certain—that absolutely nothing could go wrong in the trajectory he worked hard to create. But, what the actual fuck just happened at the therapist's office?!

He did not expect his mistress to make a complete fool out of him. Her very existence was an anathema to him, and he hoped to never be in contact with that woman ever again. In hindsight, Naoya should have taken the hint a while ago. He had previously forgiven his cousin's ex-wife, dismissing her blissful but intentional ignorance. Mari had never been too keen on actual intellectual and corporate matters, for she took far more interest in the money and comfort that came with starting from the bottom and sleeping her way to the top. Despite that, Naoya trusted that she at least had half the mind to not publicly discuss their affair, only for him to be proven wrong in front of none other than...Toji Fushiguro.

"Fuck!" Naoya screamed into the void of his empty living room. His reality was a nightmare as he thought about his despised cousin again—the assured gleam in his viridescent eyes, the smug smirk that tugged across his lips. The imagery soured his mood beyond measure. "I'm going to fucking—"

He did not finish his sentence.

Instead, he kicked a nearby lamp in an angry bout, toppling the fixture over and sending tiny shards cascading across the floor accompanied by the dull thud of the shade. Whatever. His housekeeper tomorrow morning would come in and clean that.

What he instead focused on was how he had never been this infuriated, this belittled, this undignified.

The entire apartment echoed with Naoya's loud huff.

'About ‘your wife’ or whatever you want to deem her, there is not a single chance in hell that she’d ever think about calling you her husband anymore.' These words from Toji affected him more than he would have liked.

What did he mean?

That bastard is bluffing, the blonde had to tell himself, yet even he could not believe in his own consolation.

He needed to do something about this.

No, no, Naoya wasn’t scared.

He couldn’t possibly be, right?!

Yet, after he could feel his ears begin to cool and breathing start to re-regulate, he stared at the emptiness in his halls as he came to the realization that had no better choice but to talk to you.

You didn't want to be here.

The moment you read Naoya Zenin's text to meet up for a 'quick chat' at the café near his office, you already knew that the upcoming conversation was going to be anything but 'quick.' The last thing you wished to do was to be in the same vicinity as that very man again.

After spending the last few days at your family residence, you had been showered with warm attention from aunts, uncles, cousins, and even house attendants who—despite naturally wondering the reason behind your stay—welcomed your visit with open arms. To your relatives' many inquiries, you forged a pretense that all was well even if all was not. (Besides, all did seem well in your family estate, away from the incessant pandemonium that was the Tokyo city center.)

While you knew that this peaceful break was not meant to last forever, you did not anticipate returning to the capital just to sit with the Zenin CEO alone.

Naoya had specifically chosen a corner table in the Hong Kong-inspired establishment, distanced from potential eavesdroppers. He seemed to have been waiting for a while by the time you arrived, his right leg crossed over his left knee as he twiddled with his thumbs impatiently. Sprawled on the table were a freshly brewed pot of jasmine tea and a platter of warm custard pastries.

He remained quiet as you took the seat across from him, observing with a crease on his forehead and a knit to his brows.

Anyone could tell that the blonde was not the least bit happy.

"Giving me dirty looks is not going to get this conversation anywhere," you pointed out while helping yourself to a tart.

From your comment, the inverted slope on Naoya's lips twisted into a deeper frown.

He did not understand where your annoyance came from.

Fine, he never treated you nicely either, but he did not expect you to snap at him when the discussion had hardly begun. You offered him no greetings, and Naoya also took great offense at how you chose not to look at him as you talked.

Truth be told, your neglect reminded him of all the other upsetting things that he was dying to bring up, and your unpleasant attitude whittled away the little restraint he had left.

“You didn’t try to ask where I’ve been. Not one text or call. Guess it would not have mattered to you if I disappeared, huh?" he lashed out through gritted teeth. He hated being forgotten, hated being looked over, and hated how easy it was for him to prove you to be a neglectful and apathetic wife.

Which was why there was no better option than to cut him off.

“You ordered me to leave you alone, Naoya.” Only slightly did you turn your head to glance at him. Stirring sugar into your tea, you kept your attention otherwise on the nearby window and watched businesspeople scurrying about on the streets on their lunch breaks. "You can live without my attention since I'm not the only woman you have around. What happened to your lady friend? Hasn't she been entertaining you long before our marriage? I am sure she would love your company, so why not pay her an impromptu visit?”

From a slanting angle, you could tell that the transformation from your normally calm demeanor dismayed him. Naoya, not you, was typically the one to make snide comebacks, but he could not deny your latest comments. Evidently, he wanted you to go back to your submissive and passive self, but that was precisely what you no longer could be for him.

His silence prompted you to reach into your purse and retrieve a thick manila envelope, and you presented the package on the table.

Naoya's gaze snapped to the parcel.

He was curious, but cautiously so. He had invited you here, expecting to control the narrative, to dictate the terms. As a result, your unexpected move threw him off balance.

"What...?"

“Take a look and find out for yourself.”

A puzzled Naoya demonstrated no hesitation.

He snatched the folder, tearing the top open and greedily grabbing the curated pieces inside. He stared for a long time at the first item: a photo. But he recognized the image of him and his mistress, boarding a private jet for their most recent trip to Mexico. Then, he flipped through the stack rapidly, barely registering each item before he turned to the next. Some were printed-out pictures and others were cutouts from news articles, but all featured him and his paramour. The confusion on Naoya's visage slowly morphed into aggravation, and when he finished his inspection, he forcefully threw the items back onto the table.

In the end, Naoya sat back and went still, not even blinking, thinking, or doing anything but pressing his tongue along his inner cheek. "How did you get these?"

No apologies. No remorse.

Hell, based on his response, the man could not even bother to deny your accusations, a telling sign of how little he could care for his relationship with you. Obviously, you must be a joke to him.

In one firm motion, you placed down your teacup.

"You're missing the point.”

While one's eyes may be the windows to the soul, Naoya's offered nothing in his current state. His pupils looked at—no, examined you in intense dark pools despite the iridescent glow from the lights above.

"Toji gave you these, didn't he?" Naoya continued with a disdainful laugh, himself insistent on getting answers to his own questions. "You can't find this shit on the internet anymore since I've had them all taken down. But Toji's fast. He has eyes everywhere, I know he does. Look at him. Months later, and he's still hung up on reclaiming a position he should've never had the right to in the first place!"

Thankfully, you didn’t flinch from his loud voice. What you did do was become more indifferent as if you were placing a wall to separate yourself from him, mentally bracing for his emotional maelstrom.

"You are missing the point," you said once more. This time, you shook your head in disappointment, and your tone was far more frustrated than the last. "Aren't you shameless?”

"Me? Shameless?!” His brows pinched closer from fury. "Take a look at yourself, woman! What did you do to get all this dirt from Toji and his henchmen, hm? Ha! Know what? I bet it’s because you're so willing to spread yourself for them,” he rambled with a nasty sneer plastered on his expression. At his comments, your jaw fell open before snapping shut as the meaning behind his words sank in. The way this man disregarded how he had an affair (that began many months ago!) only to redirect the spotlight onto you was repulsing, implying that the sole reason the therapists talked to you was that you had slept around. “A whore like you love taking all them all, don’t you? Well? Well? Am I right? Goddamn, you’re such a—”

The harsh scraping from your chair as you stood was what finally interrupted him. Unable to tolerate his vilification, you counteracted his anger with the venom in your rancorous glare.

"How dare you talk about me like that!”

In the meantime, prying eyes started to turn in your direction from the commotion: teenage girls, sharing nervous glances across their table; a lone businessman, stopping mid-sip from his cappuccino; even the barista, pausing mid-grind such that her arm froze inches from the hopper.

"That man...doesn't he seem familiar?" a distant voice asked.

"Is he a celebrity or something?"

"No, wait. He's the person on the cover of last month's Fortune magazine. Naoya Zenin!" another replied.

"Isn't that lady his wife?"

While the onlookers' curious glances turned into full-on stares, their regard steeled your resolve rather than bothered you. Instead, you wanted the crowd to take in the spectacle. Corrupt tricks and dirty money had long painted the Zenin heir as 'the most perfect man in Japan,' and the public deserved to understand the fraudulence and cruelty that underlaid his facade.

"For months, I trusted you. I respected you. I put aside the harrowing loneliness weighing on my heart all because I tried to understand you. You told me that finding the time or energy for our marriage was not easy because board meetings kept you late in the office or business meetings required you to spend several nights abroad. Fine! So, I had been patient. But," and your voice overflowed from anger as you pointed a shaking finger at the pictures on the table, "Taking another woman to Michelin restaurants for dinners? Spending nights with her at Ritz-Carltons and Four Seasons? Going on entire vacations with her across the Pacific? All while you had a wife at home? Are you out of your fucking mind ?!"

The man's nose flared with deep-seated rage, his eyes mirroring the same bitterness in yours. "At the end of the day," he began sternly, "we're still married."

Ridiculous.

“On paper, ” you had to clarify. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be cheating on me with your older cousin's ex-wife."

Immediately, louder murmurs rippled through the crowd. Naoya turned stiff, uncomfortable with the attention. So much for selecting a quiet corner in the café. He wasn’t stupid enough to sense that he had to be careful. Saying one wrong phrase would condemn him to a public meltdown.

However, you were already steps ahead of him when you loudly declared: “I’m filing for a divorce.”

That caught him off guard.

Your announcement even drew audible astonishment from bystanders as they stopped their meals, turning to each other and drawing out their phones.

In literal milliseconds, the vexation once riddling Naoya's demeanor shifted into denial.

“No. We’re not going to talk about a fucking divorce right now. We’re going to fix what we have, and you’re going to come back to me. We’re...We're married for a reason, and we’re going to keep with it!”

"That's a bullshit reason,” you had to snap. “Listen to yourself. Do you hear how selfish you sound!?" At this point, nothing could hide your bafflement. "Naoya, you were the one who said that if I wanted to leave this marriage badly, then I should leave. Ask Mai and Maki! They heard the entire conversation. Didn't you also say that you didn't give a fuck anymore?"

The man attempted to salvage some semblance of control. "I was just joking!"

"No, you were not." Picking up a photo of Naoya and Mari together, you pressed the picture to his face. “How much more can I take? How many days would I still have to go through alone in the penthouse, all because you would be spending your sweet time with the woman that you love?”

Unloading all this emotional baggage, not only for Naoya Zenin but also for the café spectators to hear, took courage. Previously, you would have let the burden gnaw at your soul. You would have rather wallowed in suffering rather than even think about speaking up.

But the past was the past, and you had grown immensely since then. Currently, you were stronger, more confident. You knew that, in Toji's words, you deserved better. Life was too beautiful to waste on a man who did not love or respect you and, with that in mind, you relaxed your clenched fists with an exhausted and fatigued sigh.

You broke me first, you said through a deserted gaze.

Naoya Zenin was the reason why you had become the way you were: a cold, seemingly heartless wife who cared none for her husband. The misery that he placed on your shoulders finally reached its limit, and while you could forgive, forgetting the memories in your scarred heart would be a task over months, years, and even a lifetime.

“Listen,” you began, tone terse, “this divorce will set you free. Mari is the person whom you need—”

“The hell. No!” the man interrupted in a violent outburst, taking your breath away as he slammed the table and hissed. “I don't give a damn about her right now! We’re…We’re over!" he snarled with incredible anger such that he almost appeared to growl. "I don’t need her, I need you! That...That whore doesn't give a flying fuck about my shit! All she cares about is...is...Fuck this. All she wants is the money. Why else do you think she married and then later divorced Toji? She doesn't want to hear about all the shit in my family because she had not been brought up to deal with all the fuckin' drama in my household. She can't understand because, unlike you, she wasn't born with a silver spoon shoved down her goddamn throat!"

Quietly, you absorbed his words, stunned.

So this was how their relationship had been.

You had not expected him to reveal all these entrenched feelings willingly, but his concoction between reckless rage and sheer desperation had allowed him to spill the ugly side of this extramarital affair. Naoya could not afford to lose you, and not just because this marriage solidified the respect of those around him. While Mari offered him an outlet for physical indulgence, only you could offer the cornerstone to Naoya's mental and social fortitude.

“So you ‘need’ me now, but what happens when you find another reason to hate me again? What will you do if you don’t think I can fulfill the role you want me to have as your partner? Or if you wake up one day and suddenly want your cousin’s ex-wife again? Or if you meet another woman? Am I supposed to stand there again, and watch this all happen?"

No answer.

The fact that he couldn't respond hurt.

"My decision is final. Looking back, I despised every single second married to you. In fact, I feel sorry for myself. The fact that I blindly put up with your manipulation, betrayal, and blame for all these months.” With your belongings collected, you prepared to leave. “You would be stupid to think you're the only one with options, you know.”

Only when you turned around did Naoya react, scrambling to his feet.

“What the fuck are you—”

In any other situation, he would have grabbed you, lunged at you, did everything in his power to stop you from going. Yet, given all the witnesses, all he could do was call you back like a helpless child, trying his best to not escalate the scene (although, at this point, even passerbys outside have stopped by the window to spectate).

"Hey!" Naoya called after you. “Hey! I’m still talking with you!”

Pathetic, really, to see him desperately beg for you to stay in his life.

There was a certain satisfaction in finally having the control at your fingertips. The feeling was empowering—electrifying, even—and you became so focused on the gratification that you barely registered Naoya's last question.

“Where are you going?”

At this point, you already stood by the exit.

“That’s not something that my soon-to-be ex-husband would need to know,” and you hardly gave him another glance as the door closed behind you. “Thank you for showing me everything I hope to never find in another man again."

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: Part of why this update took so long was because I wanted to have an encounter between Naoya and Y/N to showcase Y/N’s development, from someone who thoughtlessly defended her husband to someone who could stand up for herself (all while alone!). I envisioned this interaction many times, and I thought about different ways to approach the scene, the delivery, the dialogue, the choreography, etc. It took me a while to go for what I currently have. Thank you for reading!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

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stsgluver · 1 year ago

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synopsis. zenin naoya and his lack of respect for women. [part of the dynasty series]

wc. 970

tags/warnings. rich boy!gojo, idk what else, zenin naoya exists, established relationship

a/n. i switch between present and past (like five mins prior) throughout BUT IF IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE PLS LET ME KNOW. this has been sat in drafts for 2 months.

“i wouldn’t have stopped you from punching him.”

gojo scoffed, pushing his hands through his hair frustratedly. the two of you sat together on the cold stone steps outside of some large historic building.

“i don’t think i would’ve stopped,” he let out a ragged breath and you rested one of your hands on his knee. his fingers naturally came to intertwine with yours and you think you saw his shoulders relax ever so slightly at the contact.

a silence settled between you, but it wasn't an awkward one. your boyfriend was reliving the last hour and you were doing your best to try and forget it.

“is he always like that?” you asked quietly. the he in question being zen’in naoya.

this was the first event that you had attended with gojo, and the first event gojo had ever attended with an actual date. he’d always turned down all of the girls his father offered to him (the children of other tech ceo’s that his father was encouraging him to get close to only for the benefit of his own bank account) and he’d never had a real girlfriend to bring prior to you.

“unfortunately,” he hummed quietly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles lightly. you shivered from the cool breeze and dared to shuffle closer to him.

you’d experienced many sides of gojo since you’d begun your relationship, but never had you seen him so irritated that he couldn’t verbally communicate it. he was the one who annoyed people to the brink of insanity, with his cocky remarks and over-the-top, excitable behaviour. few people had ever tried to one up him, and even fewer were successful in managing to get under his skin.

zenin naoya, though, loved the challenge.

“do you think your dad will mind if we’re out here?” you asked tentatively. gojo’s hand reflexively tightened briefly around yours at the mention of his father, his jaw clenching.

several minutes after gojo had led you inside the elegant infrastructure (to say you were getting imposter syndrome was an understatement), he’d left you by a confectionery stand in search of geto. according to him, you looked ‘too pretty’ and he didn’t want your dress to be ruined in the crowds. in other words, the less you mingled, the less likely you’d be harassed by his father’s rich peers – he’d already ‘accidentally’ knocked one drink over onto a woman who dared to hiss the word ‘gold digger’ under her breath as you passed.

it had to have been less than thirty seconds before the zenin appeared by your side, a sickening smirk on his twisted face. you knew who he was, you’d seen him once or twice around campus and you’d heard the stories, but you’d never been this close to him; not close enough to breath in the expensive cologne that smellt cheap.

“probably,” he clicked his tongue, tilting his head back to look up at the night sky. “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have brought you here.”

you nudged his shoulder gently, “i wanted to come.”

a mistake on both of your behalf – though neither of you could have predicted that naoya would try and make a scene when you rejected his advances.

"you two alright?"

both of you turned your heads back to see geto coming down the stairs towards you with a little skip in his step.

once naoya had your attention he wasted no time getting to his point – bigging up his status and telling you how gojo’s dad was doubting gojo’s position in the company. if you wanted a real man, in his words, you needed him.

obviously, you’d given him a disgusted look without much thought and denied the offer, taking a step back to try and find your tall, white haired boyfriend in the crowd (an oddly difficult task). you figured you were safer weaving through a crowd of high society snobs than you were spending another minute here. naoya, though, was persistent and didn’t hesitate to pull you back towards him with a harsh grip.

"just trying not to bash that zen'in's skull in," gojo muttered as he gently traced the red marks on your wrist. it looked worse than it felt – the pain had dissipated pretty quickly once you’d broken from naoya’s hold.

"i could get on board with that," the dark haired male dropped down next to you on the stairs, stretching out his legs and smoothing down his pants.

"geto.”

you figured out pretty quickly that gojo and geto were a package deal. best friends since diapers and equally as resentful to their parents’ ways of life and the pretence they’ve been raised in. two sides of the same coin, both of which willing to go extraordinary lengths for the other with no regard for consequences.

such as the jail time that would come with the aggravated assault of naoya.

though you would give it to geto – when gojo and him got to you and naoya, it was him who was ushering gojo to just take you outside, not to engage with the spoiled man child.

“geto,” geto mocked you with a grin, shrugging carelessly, "the kid’s an ass. he’s got it coming."

there was no more than a second until geto spoke up again, with an idea you were sure he’d had from the beginning of the night, his plans had just been accelerated: “shoko’s house is free now. her parents are away so she wasn’t forced to attend this bullshit,”

gojo’s head perked up at this, looking above your head at his best friend, “you think she’ll have the stuff for a smoke?”

“it’s ieiri,” you said in a ‘duh’ tone because when was she not smoking something. how she was top of her classes, you’d never know.

“god bless that girl,” geto blew a kiss to the sky.

taglist. @hyori2 @ja-zz @animeflower26 @jar-03

#dynasty #rich boy!au #rich boy!gojo #gojo x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo drabbles #gojo fluff #gojo imagines

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azuramarigold · 28 days ago

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Underground Dealings

You were a typical office worker that one day gets fired at your job at a smaller office ran by Naoya Zen'in, but your friend, Yuji Itadori, who works at a small coffee shop that you discovered a year ago on your way to work, suggests that you apply to his uncle's company. What you didn't realize was that your assets were going to be important to the company in every department, and that every head, from the CEO to legal has their own underground dealings on what keeps the company afloat.

Characters: officeworker!reader x CEO!Sukuna, officeworker!reader x businessassociate!Gojo, officeworker!reader x salaryman!Nanami; other pairings to be added

Other characters: Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, Nobara Kugisaki, Naoya Zen'in, Maki Zen'in, Mai Zen'in, Uraume; other characters to be added.

Genre: modern au, eventual smut, 18+, angst, violence, gore

WARNINGS: (eventual) smut, blood, violence, gore, using weapons, death, drug use, smoking, alcohol use, cussing.

Divider/Navigation made by: saradika

Ko-Fi Commissions AO3 Profile

Prev.

Ch. 1 - Word Count: ~3.8k

Chapter 1: The Interview

The next day it was raining, and there was no point in getting up when your alarm indicated as now you didn’t have a job anymore.

There was also no point in going to the coffee shop either as it was on your way to the office. Again, you no longer worked over there. Lying in bed, wrapped in dark cotton sheets as rain spattered against your windows was almost relaxing, but at the same time a sense of dread enveloped you.

If you didn’t find a job soon, you’d get behind on rent. How will groceries get paid? Not to mention that student loans were still there and knocking at the door of your checking account every month. The reality was starting to set in, and your hands gripped the sheets tightly.

Your phone began to ring, causing you to sit upright in a panic, your heart racing. Frantically, you look for your phone that you forgot was somewhere in your bed. You managed to find it just before it went to voicemail.

“H-Hello…!?” you answered the phone breathlessly, not even bothering to see who it was.

“Is this Y/N L/N?” It was the same gravelly voice from the night before.

You cleared your throat. “Um, yes, this is she…” you replied, trying to sound professional.

“Is this a cellphone that you’re calling from?” the man inquired.

“Yes.”

“I’m going to text you the address of Ryōmen Enterprises so that you can come for a face-to-face interview today at four.”

You blinked in surprise.

“Is that going to be a problem, sweetheart…?” a teasing tone pressed on the other line. “The brat made it seem like you really needed-”

“Yes! I’ll be there!” you nearly shouted into the phone. “Please text me the address!”

A rumble of a chuckle. “Alright. Please dress professionally and bring a copy of your resume then. It’ll be a pleasure to meet you.”

Click.

You threw your phone back onto your bed and made your way to the bathroom, a need to get ready for this interview. Turning on the water and showerhead and preparing one of your nicer shampoos and soaps that you’d normally use on a date, but this was important!

Throughout the night Yuji had texted you a bit about his uncle, which was odd to you as he never talked about his family except for his late grandfather. Yuji had mentioned that his uncle for years was striking deals left and right, making extra money wherever he could until in the last two years he founded his company. He even mentioned that his uncle had paid for his private high school education after his grandfather had passed and is paying for his college, but only if he did some intern work once in awhile at the office and earned some of his own way with the coffee shop.

You tried to ask for a picture of his uncle, just to see what he looked like. All Yuji replied with was, “You’ll know it’s him when you see him… trust me.”

In the shower you scrubbed yourself clean, making sure there was nothing out of place. Scrubbing your hair and putting in the right amount of the conditioning mask you enjoy so much. Exfoliating your skin was necessary and shaving was part of your routine as the mask deeply conditioned your hair.

Once you were all set and rinsed, you wrapped a towel around your hair and body and made your way back to your room. The closet was organized a certain way, the left half being your business attire while the right half was your casual wear. You decided on a nice black pencil skirt and dark pastel purple blouse, you have heard comments that the blouse brought out the color of your eyes very well and the skirt curved against your hips nicely.

Getting ready was almost nerve-wracking. What if you didn’t land this job…? Where else could you go…? Maybe the coffee shop was a good option after all…

The final outfit was a wonderful touch of professionalism. The pencil skirt was slightly above your knees, but you were wearing sheer tights, so you didn’t show much skin. Around your neck to accent your blouse was a dandelion-colored scarf, tied into the furoshiki style. A pair of black pumps would look excellent you decided as you looked over yourself in the mirror.

Makeup has always been simple for you, light foundation with a hint of blush. Eyeshadow to match the blouse, the wonderful pastel purple, and the black eyeliner and mascara really made your eyes pop. Pink lipstick is what you went with, subtle and innocent, as you can’t be too bold like with red.

You put your hair up in a nice, tight bun, letting the loose hairs frame your face in subtle curls. A touch of perfume on the nape of your neck, very light as it was Eau Fraiche to not trigger a migraine, with the subtle jasmine and cedar fragrance.

By the time it was two, you were all ready to go. You decided to make your way out the door as you did rely on public transportation to get to where you needed to go for the most part. Taking the train to the business district of Tokyo was easy this time of day as many people were starting to get off work and be on their way home, so it was no issue finding a train and seat.

As you looked at the address, you realized that the office was actually down the street from the coffee shop that Yuji and the others worked at. Which meant if you got the job, you could still visit them. It warmed your heart that you could still see them.

As the train stopped at the station and you got onto the platform, you realized it was barely three, so you decided that with the extra time you had you would visit the shop. They did close at four as you knew that Megumi and Nobara had to get home, Yuji never specified where he went, but now you assumed it was to work a couple of hours as an intern at his uncle’s company.

The bell chimed as you entered the coffee shop, Megumi wiping down tables as Nobara manned the counter. Both looked up and saw you and gave smiles.

“OH MY GOSH!” Nobara squealed as she vaulted over the counter. “YOU LOOK AMAZING! YOU ARE GOING TO GET THE JOB ON THIS ALONE!”

Megumi grimaced at the loudness of Nobara’s voice. “Hey, she still needs to do a proper interview… it’s not about looks…” he reminded her.

You gave a sigh, “Yeah, and I’m totally nervous… I think I only got the job with your cousin because he kept staring at my chest for too long and forgot what it was even about…”

Megumi gave a frown. “That asshole…” he grumbled.

You looked around, noticing that you did not hear or see Yuji. “Hey, where’s Yuji at?” you asked.

“At his uncle’s office building, it’s just down the street from here,” Nobara replied, crossing her arms. “He leaves around 2:30pm to go intern there for a few hours.”

Your guess was correct. “What is his major in college anyways…?” you then asked. During the year you visited the coffee shop you had never asked, which made you feel a tad bit guilty. Yuji always asked you so many questions, as did Nobara, and even Megumi asked a question here and there, but you never asked them any.

“Business,” both Megumi and Nobara replied in unison.

“He’s got a scholarship at a decent university for athletics,” Megumi then added. “But he’s majoring in business to properly take over the coffee shop here and possibly franchise it.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” you hummed. You had no idea about that with Yuji. The young man had such a bubbly personality that you never thought he’d be a business major in college. You then gave a smile. “Well, if I get this job, I can still come for my coffee…! Speaking of…”

“GOT IT!” Nobara shouted as she vaulted over the counter once again.

Megumi frowned. “You and Yuji need to stop doing that… you two are going to end up crashing into something one day…” he groaned in annoyance.

“You’re just jealous that you don’t look cool doing it!” Nobara bragged, sticking her tongue out at him. Withing minutes she got your usual coffee order ready. “And it’s done, Y/N! Feel free to tip me for my awesome service!”

You gave a laugh as you paid for the coffee and once again gave a decent tip. “Of course, Nobara, I wouldn’t dream of not giving you a tip,” you assured her.

“My tip would be to stop vaulting over the damn counter…!” Megumi told you both.

You checked your watch, realizing it was half an hour before your interview. You gave the two your goodbyes and made your way out of the shop. Sipping on your coffee as you walked down the street, already seeing a tall, glass building that was beginning to loom before you. The sign outside the building indicated that it was “Ryōmen Enterprises”, so you knew it was the right place.

You took a deep breath, calming your nerves, and made your way inside, your pumps clicking against the polished floors. Inside there was a nice, muted gray, chairs and couches around the main floor for people to relax in before meetings or to meet with someone. The reception desk was directly ahead of the entrance, and you made your way there quickly.

The person behind the desk was clicking on her keyboard, her hair long and dark brown. She wore a simple dark green turtleneck blouse with a white long sleeve sweater, her nails a nice teal in color. Her eyes, a nice brown oak, darted to you as she finished what she was doing.

“Hello, how can I help you?” she then asked. You noted that there were bags under her eyes, and she had a small beauty mark on her right eye.

“Hello, my name is Y/N L/N, I have an interview at-” you began but she interrupted you by picking up her phone.

“Hey, Uraume?” the woman spoke. “Yeah, this is Shoko… that interview you mentioned is here.” A pause. “Yeah, I know she’s early…” Another pause and Shoko winced at a sudden bark on the other side of the line. “Yeah, I’ll send her up.” She hung up the phone.

“Uh…” you tentatively murmured. “Is it bad that I’m early…?” you asked softly.

“Not at all, hun,” Shoko replied as she prepared a guest badge. “Take this to the elevator and scan it to access the top floor.”

You took the guest badge. “Thank you…” You walked to the elevator and pressed the button and waited for it to arrive.

While waiting, someone stepped up beside you and you glanced over to see the most gorgeous blue eyes you have ever seen behind black sunglasses perched at the end of his nose. He was tall, clearly over six feet, with tousled snow-white hair. His tailored suit fitted him well, a black with light gray stripes and black dress shirt, a white tie to match his hair.

“Would you like a picture?” the man asked teasingly with a grin. “They do last longer.” He then adjusted his glasses to cover his eyes, although he did peer over them to give you a glance over.

“GAH!” you nearly yelped, nearly death gripping your coffee cup.

“Although, if you get a picture of me, I would love one of you too,” he then added with a smirk.

The elevator dinged and you entered, quickly scanning your badge, your heart sinking as you realized that the white-haired man entered with you. Now you two were stuck in an enclosed space together after that exchange.

“Are you here for an internship…? Interview…?” the man then pressed. He scanned his own badge as well, but you couldn’t see what his name was on it.

“I-Interview…” you stammered in reply.

The man beamed. “Oh…? Nice! For what department?” he then inquired, clearly interested.

Your eyes widened. “Um… I don’t know…?”

“Huh…? What do you mean you don’t know?”

“All I know is that I’m meeting Mr. Ryōmen for the interview.”

The white-haired man sucked in air through his teeth. “WOW! The big boss huh? Damn!” he laughed.

That certainly wasn’t helping your nerves.

“What’s your name, sweets?” he then asked. “I’m Satoru Gojo, I’m the head of marketing here.”

“I’m Y/N L/N,” you then introduced.

“Hey, don’t be nervous, the man is all bark and no bite!” Gojo assured. “Well… at least to the employees here. He does bite I hear.” He then gave a teasing chuckle.

“Eh…!?” you nearly shrieked.

The elevator dinged on a floor and the doors opened, signaling for Gojo to exit. “See ya around, sweets, hopefully you get the job!” he shouted over his shoulder to you with a wave. “I’d love to give you a tour of the building!”

You couldn’t reply as the doors closed and continued to ascend. With each second, you became much more nervous. The elevator dinged at the final floor, and you exited it, only to be greeted by a familiar pink-haired boy.

“Hey! You made it, Y/N!” Yuji’s voice excitedly said. He was no longer in his coffee shop uniform but in his own tailored suit, a dark gray with a dark gray waistcoat, white dress shirt, and wearing an orange tie neatly tied around his neck. His pink hair was still messy and spikey as ever, although it did look like he tried to comb it through once or twice.

“Yuji!” you beamed. “Why didn’t you ever mention you interned here?”

Yuji nervously chuckled. “Eh, my personal life isn’t very exciting…” he joked. “Here, let me get you to Uraume so you can check in.” He grabbed your hand and dragged you away from the elevator.

It seemed the entire floor was a penthouse office space, where there were a few desks, one that Yuji sat at for his intern work, and the other sat someone with a white bob haircut and wore a nice navy-blue pantsuit. In the back was a main inner office, the placard reading “S. Ryōmen”.

As you and Yuji approached the secretary’s desk, they were just hanging up the phone. Their plum-colored eyes saw you coming and they stood up from their desk to walk around.

“Hello, Miss Y/N,” they greeted, their voice sounding monotone. “I’m Uraume, Mr. Ryomen’s secretary. I’ll let him know that you’re here.”

You gave a look of confusion. This person was not who you talked to yesterday or today.

Yuji noticed your face. “You okay?” he asked gently.

“Uh… yeah,” you lied. “Just nervous.”

Yuji gave a smile. “You’ll do great! I already hyped you up and everything!” he informed.

“You… what!?” you nearly shrieked at him. “Hype me up!? What does that even mean!?” You began to shake his shoulders frantically, trying to shake the answers from him.

Yuji’s eyes were practically rolling, but he still tried to speak. “A-All I did was t-tell him you were fired b-by Naoya Zen’in and that you were a g-good worker…!”

Uraume returned, a white brow raised. “Mr. Itadori, what did you do to anger the young lady…?” they asked him.

“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING BAD!” Yuji shouted once you let him go.

Uraume only sighed in irritation. “Anyways, he is ready to meet you now,” they informed you. They then glared at Yuji. “And Mr. Itadori, may I remind you that you’re supposed to be entering data…?”

“I got bored…” he then whined.

“Do it brat, if you know what’s good for ya!” a voice barked from the inner main office. Even with the door closed, you could hear how powerful it was.

What you now also realized was that it was the same voice you spoke with the night before and earlier that day. Your face immediately went red.

You must’ve sounded like an idiot on the phone.

“Yeah, fine, fine…!” Yuji shouted back. “My friend is here, so you be nice to her!” He patted your shoulder. “Good luck, Y/N. He’s not always that loud… He just likes to yell at me. Or Gojo.”

Uraume led you to the door and knocked on it, a low “enter” rumbled in reply. The secretary opened the door and gave a small bow in greeting.

“Mr. Ryōmen, here is Miss L/N for the interview,” Uraume informed. “Please let me know if you need anything else.” They promptly shoved you in and shut the door behind you.

When Yuji said that you’d know his uncle when you saw him, he wasn’t kidding. The man had the same pink hair, sharp jawline and nose shape. The main difference was that the man before you had intricate face tattoos decorating his face and his eyes were sharp and fierce; instead of a warm honey-brown in color, they looked like they were brown mixed with red, an odd dark dried blood color with more on the red side. He was also larger in stature, much broader shouldered and muscular, his body filling every part of his expensive black suit perfectly.

“You may have a seat,” Mr. Ryōmen instructed, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk.

You obey instinctively, like a small animal in front of a hunter. You set your resume on the desk in front of you for him to look through and you politely put your hands in your lap.

“You’re friends with the brat, eh?” the man grumbled as he adjusted his blood red tie he was wearing. “I don’t think I recognize you from when he went to high school… Or are you a friend from one of his college classes from last semester?”

“Oh, I met him through the coffee shop,” you replied honestly. “I just happened to stumble across it when walking to my old job.”

“Hmm,” he hummed in response. “The Zen’in’s small office, right? Ran by Naoya Zen’in?” Mr. Ryōmen then grabbed your resume and began to flip through it.

“Yes sir, I was Mr. Zen’in’s personal assistant,” you informed.

“And may I ask why you were fired?”

“Um… well…” You began to nervously wring your hands together. “I’m going to say this… Mr. Zen’in was not very professional. He constantly tries to get with every female worker he has, and on more than one occasion he has tried to make a pass at me.”

Mr. Ryōmen raised a brow. “So, he fired you because you wouldn’t fuck him?” he guessed quite crudely. “Wow, that’s petty… Then again that’s the only way he could get women to sleep with him. Money and intimidation.”

“And I threw my coffee in his face…” you then admitted shyly.

A ghost of a smirk flashed on his lips. “Wow, no wonder why a weird blacklist email came in my inbox last night,” he said. “I honestly would’ve done worse.” He tossed your resume on the desk. “Alright, you’re hired.”

“Huh…?” you dumbly said.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” the man sternly asked. “I said, ‘you’re hired’. You want it in morse code too?” He began to tap his desk in an odd sequence. “Honestly I have no idea what code that could be, for all I know that could be me saying I stole your penguin or something…”

You tilted your head in confusion. “But… you didn’t ask me typical interview questions…?” you prompted. “Like about my work ethic, or why I would want to work here…?”

“I don’t do interviews,” he admitted with a shrug. “Usually Nanami in finance does it, but I wanted to do this one myself since the brat was eager.”

You still looked at him in confusion.

“And I’m not gonna lie,” Mr. Ryōmen said with a sigh as he straightened in his chair, placing his hands in front of him on his desk; you noticed he had tattoos on them as well. “I just want you in my company to rub it in that asshole’s face. I ended up not doing that deal with them as well after what the brat said.”

You knew that it was going to cost Zen’in big. Ryōmen Enterprises was sweeping the market in businesses and restaurants alike. You heard that the CEO was a smooth talker and could strike deals like it was talking about what color to paint walls over a Sunday brunch.

“So, what department would I be in?” you then inquired.

“I’ll have you as my personal assistant,” he then said. “Uraume takes care of certain paperwork as my secretary and arranges business meetings within the company, but I would need someone to help with outside the company, and you seem to be good at it.” He picked up your resume. “From what I glanced over, you were actually the contact with Zen’in for the deal.”

“Yes, I was.”

“So, you have a knack for arranging things and eye on good partnerships.”

“I’m flattered you think so.”

“You can also help me with running around between the departments, making sure things are running smoothly,” Mr. Ryōmen added. “I usually have the brat check up on things, but since he has the coffee shop and will be going back to school soon, his time will be limited.”

You nodded in understanding. “Okay, I can do that,” you assured him. It didn’t sound too different to what Naoya had you do.

A smirk crossed the man’s face. “Alright, you can start tomorrow, I’ll have the company attorney draft a contract with everything and in the morning, you can go over it and make sure it’s to your liking. We can add or remove things as well,” he then said.

You blinked. “Oh, okay…” you replied in surprise.

“And about your salary, don’t worry about it,” Mr. Ryōmen assured as he leaned back in his chair. “It’ll be on par if not more than what you did at Zen’in’s.” He then leaned back forward and scribbled a number on a sticky note and passed it to you.

Your eyes practically bugged out of your head. “I-I’m sorry… is this a monthly salary…?” you asked him.

Mr. Ryomen looked at you in confusion. “Um… no, sweetheart, that would be your biweekly salary…”

“Oh…” you squeaked. It was nearly double your monthly what you were making when you were working for Naoya.

“Is that a problem…?” he asked seriously. “Too little to what you’re used to…?”

“No!” you blurted out loudly. “This is more than generous! I accept the position!”

A wolf-like smile appeared on your new boss’s lips. “Well, welcome aboard to Ryōmen Enterprises, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll make a lovely addition.”

Special thanks to my Ko-fi supporters!

Basic Tier

Aostrele

Draconic Hermit

JadEDU

Jaune Arc

Zippy

Middle Tier

@genderfluidsgetguns AKA IdoInFactLikeDogs

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sukirichi · 7 months ago

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PLEASE STOP COPYING FICS ‼️

I am by no means gatekeeping concepts or tropes. We all know that it’s normal to see the same tropes or AUs be used differently, and that is not plagiarism. However, I recently found a fic that was oddly similar to my old (and discontinued) Gojo x Reader series, Reckless. The CEO! Gojo is nothing new, and neither is an accidental pregnancy trope. The only reason I am concerned is because this Gojo series I found has the exact same themes as Reckless that consists of: a playboy CEO Gojo with a very notorious reputation, a poor reader who is an employee and asset to the company (someone who works closely with Gojo), reader getting knocked up from a one night stand with Gojo, reader with a seemingly dead/absent mother yet still in contact with her father, Gojo with a very traditional family who does not like reader, and Gojo with an ex he struggles to let go of - which are all elements of Reckless.

The first chapter of that Gojo fic is also eerily similar to my first chapter with the same flow of: YN finding out she’s pregnant and her friend being there for her, Gojo saying he’ll take responsibility because ‘they both made the baby’, YN having to move in with Gojo to take care of the baby, and both of them coming to a mutual agreement that their ‘relationship’ will be purely for the baby’s benefit. The flow of events and specific details about the characters’ backgrounds are too similar to mine.

Again, I am not gatekeeping concepts, just as how I’ve had other writers ask me if they could write their own stories or takes based off of the NAOYA’S TROPHY WIFE COLLECTION or the BONTEN HUSBANDS EXCLUSIVE, and I’m fine with that. I’m even happy people are inspired by what I write. But being inspired is completely different from taking someone’s story and posting it as yours. Please trust your own creativity and skills in writing. You can write amazing stories and have people love them without having to steal from others.

It’s sad to say this is not the first time I, and other writers, have been plagiarized. It’s even more upsetting to know that a friend of mine who has also written a Gojo series (that I’m sure you all know and dearly love) experiences the same issues with the same person. The fact that this is happening to many writers out there is disheartening. We work hard and pour a lot of love in the stories we create. None of us are getting paid for this, and we simply want to share our passions with others. So please, let us be kinder with one another and show love and support the right way. If you love a fic, you give feedback and rb/comment + show support to the writer. You don’t steal their ideas and play it off as your own because you liked it.

#for context: my Reckless series was posted around 2021 and this new Gojo series I found was posted in 2023 (when I was already in my hiatus)#i’m just... this is so upsetting. i have been in love with jjk for so long but i won’t lie and say the fandom hasn’t given me problems :(#there always seems to be drama or issue going around... why can’t we just all enjoy reading x reader fics in peace #if its not hate anons or discourse it’s plagiarism. it’s tiring #this is one of the reasons why i moved fandoms after my jjk works. because i used to love it sm but i just felt stressed out #and imagine my shock when i saw my friend got plagiarized bcos no way you guys are doing this to someone who worked hard on a fic for YEARS #imagine my double shock when i see that writer’s page and see a similar work to mine too like 😭 c’mon guys. you guys have big brains.#you can write something juicy and awesome without ripping it off from others #and please do not send hate to this creator at all! that is not the intention of this post. i will also not be dropping any names.#now i’m aware i take inspos from other media too - i say it often that my fics take inspo from k-dramas or songs #but i take inspirations only. i do not copy the entire thing and then tweak one minor detail to make it ‘a little different’

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laviefantasie · 4 months ago

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[ Just Keep Swimming ]

Pairings: CEO! Gojo Satoru x Florist! Reader ; Lawyer! Naoya Zenin x Florist! Reader

Summary: The worst and best thing that could ever happen to you is falling in love. You were living proof of it. (based on “It Ends With Us”)

| Masterlist |

[ WARING TAGS: Modern!AU, no curse magic,, hurt/comfort, angst, domestic violence, violence, assault, sexual content, manipulation, gaslighting, blood, swearing ]

⛊ ☼ ⛉ ☼ ⛊ ☼ ⛉ ☼ ⛊

You were six the first time you saw it happen. You were ten when you first understood what it meant. You were fifteen when you first begged your mom with tears to leave him. You were eighteen when you decided to leave them.

And now here you were at twenty-five staring at your childhood bedroom , trying your best to not look at any of the family portraits that adorned the walls.

This was no happy home. You wouldn’t even call it a home to begin with. Not when the halls had echoed your mother’s terrified screeches as the walls tainted red. Not as your father’s fist painted your mother’s porcelain skin yellow, purple, red and green. How you hated those colors and despised this place.

You couldn’t wait to leave once again.

“It’s nice to have you back, honey”

You sighed. Your mother’s voice was as always soft and sweet; you hated how soft it sounded, as if she expected to get hit if she were to be louder.

Your eyes glanced around before stopping on an old music box, one a certain crystal blue-eyed boy had given you once upon a time. A small smile faintly appears on your face as you gaze at it, before being wiped off by the rest of your memories.

Clearing your throat, you turn towards your mother with a steady gaze. She smiled at you softly.

And you hated it. You hated that you remember how she had chosen him over you, again and again. You hated how you had begged, even gotten on your knees, for her to leave with you.

You hated that no matter how many times she chose him, he never stopped the cracks from deepening.

“Have you decided on what to say?” She asks slowly, “You could just recall a memory… maybe just state three things that he ever did to make you smile or…”

“Mom” you interrupted her, hating how as she spoke images of her being brutally hurt appeared in her mind, “I’ll figure it out”

She doesn’t seem convinced, but she still nods.

Sighing, you turn to look out your window straight at the three-story mansion in front of your own. Memories of joyous laughter and snow white hair.

Closing your eyes, you turn around. You had a funeral to get ready for and an eulogy to lie in.

The flowers on the roof of your building had always been your home away from home. Especially when you didn’t actually have somewhere that felt as home yet. You had lost that a long time ago.

You keep on cutting off the dead limbs, lost in your thoughts, when the door snaps open loudly and a crash startle you.

Turning around you are met with the sight of a blond man in a suit panting over a broken empty flower pot. You would’ve already screamed at him about the mess if it wasn’t for the tears streaming down his face.

He turns, eyes meeting yours. E/C meeting brown. His pants slow down and what appears to be shame shines through his face.

“I-I’ll pay for it”

“Seems like it was asking for it so no worries” you joke trying to make him feel at ease.

Why? You’re not sure. There was just something about seeing someone so powerful looking being vulnerable that made you sympathize.

He lets out a giant laugh full of relief and you find yourself smiling at it.

“You did all this?” He points at the many flowers al over the roof.

You nod, “Yeah, it’s my hobby… although maybe you could consider it my job too?”

“Huh? Really?”

“Hopefully, yeah” you nod, continuing your job, “You?”

“I’m, uh, a layer”

“A lawyer?” You ask ironically. He didn’t seem that confident to be one.

“I don’t look the part?”

“Not really”

He laughs again, louder this time, and you find yourself smiling. Again.

When was the last time you had smiled?

“You don’t look like a florist either”

“Makes sense, I didn’t actually study to become one” you smirk, “I just decided to become it”

“What did you study then?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?”

He smiles, “Actually, I would. Along with your name”

“Sorry, I’m married”

His face pales, “Oh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean any—”

Your laughter interrupts him. A loud and melodic one. One you hadn’t heard yourself let out in a long time.

It felt… warm.

“You… you’re messing with me”

“I am” your laugh faints, but the smile remains, “Was that too much?”

“When it caused that laugh? Not at all”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Y/N” you say softly, “That’s my name”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N” he smiles, “I’m Naoya”

You nod at him before turning your attention to your flowers once more, trying to ignore the way your heart had started to increase the rhythm of its beat. You weren’t gonna acknowledge it.

“Why flowers?” He clears his throat, “I mean… you said you chose it so, why?”

“Why not? There’s q certain beauty in them, a familiarity, don’t you think so?”

“Familiarity?”

They’re just like us. When loved, they bloom. When hurt, they rot.

I wanted to say that, yet couldn’t. I had only ever said that to one person before and it felt like a betrayal to say it to somebody else, as insignificant as it seemed.

“Think about it, okay?” You settle for, smiling, “Promise you’ll figure it out”

He laughs faintly, “I take it, because it means we’ll meet again, right?”

“I don’t know about that…”

“You live here, am I wrong? I live here too! It’s meant to be”

You frown with a smile, “Is that your best way to flirt?”

“Only if it’s working”

You shake your head, laughing, “With those looks I thought you were a womanizer but now…”

“Hey! With this looks, what else would I need?”

Both of you share a laugh, a happy one, and for a minute you forget he came here banging doors and breaking pots; you forget you had been cutting dead limbs from flowers hoping it’d cut the ones inside you too.

But reality always sets in and your smile disappears.

He had been violent. Whatever his reason might be, even if it was one that could be understood, sirens loudly came to life inside your head making you move around, you were uncomfortable.

“Anyways… I know I said it probably was asking for it but what exactly did the flower pot do?”

You hate how your voice soften at the start, so you toughen it up by the end. The last thing you ever wanted was to be like your mom.

You’d never be like her.

“Honestly… it wasn’t the pot’s fault. Sadly, it was just collateral damage” he sighs, “I… uh… something happened. It’s kinda personal”

“Oh. Sorry. I-uh… too invasive. I apologize”

“No, no, it’s okay. Understandable. I…” he sighs, “I had this case, kinda can’t talk about it you know, but… it was a tough one. My client was a kid… and I lost”

“Oh”

“Yeah, oh” he laughs bitterly, “My client is a kid that I promised I’d help, that I’d save, and I didn’t. I failed them”

“I’m so sorry” you sigh, “That’s… a good enough reason for the pot’s short lifespan”

He smiles faintly.

You sigh, averting your eyes and playing with your fingers nervously.

“My dad died this past weekend” you blurt out, “Seems like it’s been a shitty last few days”

“Seems like it”

“Kind of a pretty deep conversation for two strangers to have on a roof, don’t you agree?”

“You’re not a stranger” his eyes soften, “You are Y/N, flower enthusiast, trickster, owner of the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You remind yourself to breathe as you let out an embarrassed laugh, averting your gaze from his soft one. Could your heart calm down? This was not the moment for a crush.

“Since we’re already spilling our dirty little secrets… how about a night of naked truths?”

“Naked truths?”

You hum, nodding, “I wouldn’t mind some company as I finish tending to my flowers and you seem like the last thing you need right now is being alone”

“Probably true. How’d you know I’m alone though?”

“Because we all tend to run to the person that makes us feel accompanied when we’re struggling… yet you’re on the roof, alone. Hitting doors and breaking pots”

“You’re also on the roof in a moment of struggle” he reminds you softly, his eyes filling with understanding.

“Again: I wouldn’t mind some company”

He nods, silently sitting down beside you on the floor and watching you as you tend your plants with care.

“Naked truths?” He reminds you softly.

You nod, “The odds of us ever seeing each other again are low, so it doesn’t matter”

“Kind of like a therapy session?”

“Zero judgement, all humor” you give him a small smile, “Wanna go first?”

“Today’s case… I watched a little boy’s life crumbled before his eyes when I failed him, making him go back to the hell he has lived with his father” he sighs, averting his gaze that had darken, “He’ll never be the same again and now he won’t even find a reason in asking for help”

“I’m sorry about that” you let out a deep breath, “Maybe he’ll figure out a way”

“Maybe… he shouldn’t have to though”

He was right. No kid should ever find a way to survive the hell they’ve been given. A kid should only ever be a kid.

“Your turn”

“I…”

He had been honest. He had been vulnerable. He deserved the same treatment.

“I’m a liar” you blurt out, “I’ve had to be since my father was a politician. But I shouldn’t have had to be it to the degree he made me be it. He… my mother and him fought a lot. And he would get so… so angry whenever they did that some-sometimes he would h-hit her. He’d apologize after. Taking us out, buying her expensive gifts. He knew I hated it when they fought so he’d buy me toys, to make up for it I guess. I didn’t really understand what him hitting her actually was, I was a kid. So… so-sometime-”

Your voice fails you, making you clear your throat as you find yourself admitting this out loud for the first time in years. Your saliva tasted like acid inside your mouth as you tried to find your voice once again.

Naoya waits patiently. Not making a sound and letting you collect yourself calmly.

“Sometimes I… I would find myself hoping they’d fight. Because I knew that if he h-hit her, the next two weeks would be… amazing” had I ever actually ever admitted this out loud?, “I wish he had never touched her. When I understood pain, I wished he’d stop but it was too late. It had become part of their marriage, like a silent norm in our house. So I let them be… I now know that letting it happen, never saying anything, makes me as guilty as him. As a daughter I have love for him, but as a person? I hate him. I have spent most of my life despising him for being such a bad person, but… I’m just as bad. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, am I right?”

“No”

The answer is immediate, making you freeze.

His hand stops your fumbling one, warming it on his own as if giving it a home. His gaze is determined, soft.

You couldn’t breathe.

“You’re not a bad person. I don’t think there’s really a thing as bad people” he squeezes my hand, “We’re just… people who sometimes do bad things. We’re humans, it’s inevitable”

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. Was I gonna agree with him just to stop the conversation? Was I gonna try to convince him that I’m bad? What exactly was I gonna say?

People who sometimes do bad things.

You felt yourself lighter after his words, as if the weight pulling you down and making it hard for you to breathe had slightly lifted.

No one is exclusively bad, he was right. Some people just have it harder to be good.

And that’s okay. You just gotta keep trying.

“Your turn”

He looks ready to disagree, but relents anyway.

“I don’t remember my mom” he confesses, “Dad and her divorced when I was four I think. He never let me see her once he won custody… and she didn’t try to either”

“You wish she had tried?”

“When I was a kid” he shrugs, “Not anymore. She made her choice, and now I choose not to wait for someone who didn’t want me”

“What if she wanted but just… couldn’t?”

He scoffs, “Your turn”

The bitterness in his voice stings, but you know it’s not directed at you.

You squeeze his hand trying to give him at least a little of the comfort he gave you moments ago. He smiles faintly.

“I have only ever fallen in love once” you admit, “His name was Satoru, he lived in the house in front of me. I lost my virginity with him until my dad found us and kick him out. Never saw him again after”

“Satoru?” He frowns, “Not a common name”

“Yeah, it isn’t”

“Kinda jealous right now” you frown, “He must have been a hell of a guy if you haven’t dated since”

You remember the blood and its metallic smell. How your throat hurt as you screamed for him to stop. How tears fell down your cheeks as you try to break them up, only to be pushed back. You feared he’d kill him.

“He was” you state softly, “It just couldn’t… we just had to stop seeing each other”

“Had to?”

“Yeah. Had to”

The confession tastes like the metallic smell imprinted in your mind, making it hard to swallow.

He stays silent for a moment.

“Now I really am jealous” he smiles, making you laugh, “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and you’re telling me you’ve only had one boyfriend? And he’s the one that got away?”

“Are you quoting a Katy Perry song?”

“Unimportant”

You laugh out loud. The screams that had muted the surrounding traffic sound quiet down, and the metallic taste disappears.

The one that got a way, you repeat to yourself. Yeah. Satoru definitely was that.

“What are you doing?”

You had been watching quietly so far but you just couldn’t anymore. Why did the heir of Gojo Enterprises look as if he was running away?

“Mind your own business”

“I actually am. You just stomped on my flowers before falling on your face as you ran without looking ahead” you scoff, “Now spill”

He sighs, looking towards his house before scoffing.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Satoru Gojo…? Only heir of the Gojo family, one of the top ten families in the whole country” you recite without a care, “Why does that even matter?”

“You forgot ‘illegitimate son’, princess” he rolls his eyes, “My mom was a maid who Mr. Gojo fucked because he pleased. So I’m leaving”

“Wh-wait! Leaving? Where?” You stop him, “You can’t leave”

“I can and I will”

“Where will you go? Do you even know what leaving on the streets will be like?” You scoff and cross your arms, “You won’t survive, not after living in that place”

“Until I was six, I lived in that place’s basement and was treated as a rat. I think the streets will be fine”

“But you can’t—”

“We’ve been neighbors all our lives and you’ve never once looked at me” he scoffs, “Don’t look at me now”

He turns around as he rolls his eyes, looking ready to ignore whatever else you tried to convince him to not leave home. But you’d never understand what a hell that house was and had always been, not when you had the picture perfect family.

“STAY HERE” you yelled in panic, freezing him on the spot, “We have a small house in our backyard, originally for the house’s help. It’s unoccupied, so you can stay there. Free of charge”

“Why?”

“Cause you look seem like someone who has had many doors closed in his face” you shrugs, averting your gaze shyly, “I want to show you there are others who’ll open it for you”

“Hey” you snap out of your memory from when you where fifteen, “You good? Lost you for a second”

“I’m fine” your voice is softer now, a hint of melancholy in it.

Why had you remembered that right now? Hadn’t that wound already healed?

“It’s gotten late. I-I should go”

You stand up, your head a mess, but his hand in yours stops you. His gaze is curious and slightly desperate.

“Will I see you again?”

“No”

“That stings”

“I’m just honest” you sigh, “That’s how it works”

“I don’t believe it is” he smiles, “So, see you next time, Y/N”

You had indeed seen him again, as if by destiny. He was apparently family of your new part-time worker, Maki. And apparently he knew your best friend, Utahime, whom had help you open your flower shop, Camellia Carnation.

It had taken you back to see him with Utahime, but you had acted indifferent. Then, he had been your first client ever and had buy the bouquet for you. Maki warned him you were off limits.

So you agreed to be friends.

Yet he was always there, and your heart kept on taking his side. One misstep and you found yourself falling.

You hadn’t meant to fall, not after Satoru. But at some point he smiled and you knew it was game over. Suddenly, he had sunk beneath your bones and nurtured this deep familiarity into a love so fierce that you believed this was it, that he was it. After all the pain, and the healing, and the heartbreak, Naoya was it.

Maki said he didn’t date, that he just played around. Naoya himself admitted it to.

Yet he begged you to try with him.

And holy crap were you glad you said yes. When was the last time you had been this happy? Dancing around the kitchen with only the refrigerator light? Playing board games in your bed? Laughing until the sun rose?

You gave him your all and he reciprocated it.

It only made sense that he met your mother when she came to visit you, even when you were a little hesitant about it. He was excited, you wouldn’t stop it.

You hadn’t expected to be frozen in your seat, barely registering what your mom was saying as you both waited for Naoya to come back from the restroom. How could you focus when you had just met your favorite set of crystal blue eyes?

You thought you had it wrong. You had to.

But nothing could compare to those eyes. White hair? People dyed it all the time. Pale skin? No beaches around. But his eyes? No one could even imagine coming close to their unique blue.

It has been years since you saw him, but you’ll never forget what he looked like. It had to be him. You know it was and you believe he recognized you, too, because the second your eyes met… it looked like he’d seen a ghost.

You felt breathless.

It was as if in this moment your soul was whispering to your heart excitedly about him. It was like a gravitational pull, like as if all the universes and all the galaxies were conspiring in his favor.

Snap out of it, you screamed in your head.

Why were you looking at him like that? You couldn’t. You didn’t know him, not anymore at least.

And yet…

You found yourself in the restroom’s, hoping he had recognized you and maybe decided to follow you.

What were you doing? He had left you behind, months before graduating, without a goodbye. He had probably gone to the marines to escape his father… but he had been so well dressed he probably had ended up doing as he was told.

You needed to compose yourself.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the door opening behind you. The Baby Breath flower tattoo in your collarbone burning as you meet his gaze, both of you breathless.

He looked healthy. There were so many emotions going through you at the moment but that was what stuck. You were happy he was healthy.

So why did it sting that he never came back for you? That he never looked for you?

“Y/N”

He’s standing at the end of the hallway like a ghost straight out of the past. He’s real, and he’s standing right in front of you.

“Toru”

He smiled and you swore your heart stopped.

“I’m going to make a promise to you. I’ll get out of my father’s cage and make a life of my own. When my life is good enough to deserve you in it, I’ll come find you. But don’t wait for me, okay? It may not happen”

He blows out a quick breath of relief and then takes three huge steps forward. You find yourself doing the same. Meeting in the middle and throwing your arms around each other.

“Holy shit” he breathes, tightening his embrace.

You nod, “Yeah. Holy shit”

He puts his hands on your shoulders and takes a step back to look at you.

“You haven’t change a thing”

Covering your mouth with your hand, still in shock, you give him a once-over. His face looks the same, but he’s no longer the scrawny teenager you remember.

“I can’t say the same for you”

He laughed, “Six years in the military will do that, definitely”

You’re in shock, and so is he, so nothing is said after that. You’re both too busy taking each other in to figure out what to say next. Laughing with disbelief.

Finally, he releases your shoulders and folds his arms over his chest.

“What are you doing here?”

He didn’t remember. You didn’t know if you were disappointed or relieved.

“I live here,” you say, forcing your answer to sound as casual as his question, “I own a flower shop over on Park Plaza”

He smiles knowingly, like it doesn’t at all surprise him.

You glance toward the door, knowing you should get back out there. He notices and then takes another step back. He holds your gaze for a moment, it gets really quiet. Way too quiet.

There’s so much you both have to say but where to start? The smile leaves his eyes for a moment and then he motions toward the door.

“You should probably get back to your company”, he says, “I’ll look you up sometime. You said Park Plaza, right?”

I nod. He nods.

And then you both parted ways.

The rest of your dinner was uneventful. Your gaze sometimes strayed to where Satoru sat surrounded by men in business attire, but came back to Naoya whenever he made your mom laugh.

Naoya is the perfect gentleman. Making your mom laugh, listening to her stories, paying for dinner, insisting on walking her to her car.

So why did you kept glancing at Satoru throughout the night?

“I ordered an Uber so we have approximately…” he checks his phone, “two minutes to make out”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him. Smiling softly as you feel him kiss your neck lovingly, followed by your cheek.

“Ugh, how I wish I could invite myself over to your apartment, but my client wouldn’t be too happy with me if I did”

You giggle before kissing him back. Relief and disappointment coursing through you at his words.

Why was there relief?

“Grand opening soon, so I need to rest too” you remind him, “When’s your next day off?”

“Never. When’s yours?”

“Never”

You both laugh again, making out a little more before his Uber arrives and he has to leave. You watch until it pulls out of the parking lot.

Why did everything feel so right with him?

You smiled and turned around towards your car, but gasped as soon as your gaze met his covered one.

What the hell was Satoru doing standing at the rear of your car?

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you”

His voice is low, as if tired. You force yourself to not dwell on the motive.

“Well, you did” you lean against the car, three feet away from him.

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

Your eyes widen as you turn to him, but his gaze is set on the road. You clear your throat.

“He’s…” your voice falters. This is weird. Your chest is still constricted and your stomach is flipping, “His name is Naoya. We met about a year ago.”

You force yourself not to wince at the truth once it came out. Maybe you shouldn’t have said you met that long ago. It sounded as if you were in an official long term relationship while you were just… courting each other?

“What about you? Girlfriend? Wife?”

Why were you asking that? Were you genuinely curious or…?

“Girlfriend. Her name is Mei Mei. We’ve been together almost a year now”

Heartburn. You believe you were having a heartburn. You place your hand in your chest.

A year?

“That’s good. You seem happy”

Did he seem happy? You had no clue. You just had to say something. Anything.

“Yeah. Well… I’m really glad I got to see you, Y/N” he turns around to walk away, but then spins and faces you again, his hands shoved in his back pockets, “I will say… I kind of wish this could have happened a year ago”

You wince at his words, trying not to let them get to you. Watching him as he turns and walks back to the restaurant.

Fumbling with your keys, you hit the button to unlock your car and slide in, shutting the door behind you loudly. You grip the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white. You feel a sting on your lower lip as you bite it.

For whatever reason, a tear falls down your cheek. You feel pathetic as you carelessly wipe it before starting your car.

Why were you feeling this much hurt after seeing him?

But it’s good. This happened for a reason. Your heart needed closure so that you could give it to Naoya. Maybe you couldn’t have done that until this happened.

This was good…

Yet you kept on crying.

But it’ll feel better. It’ll be better. This was just human nature, healing an old wound to prepare for a fresh new layer.

Nothing else.

“Knock, knock” you smile, opening the door with a tray in your hands full of food.

Satoru is sleeping on the couch in the help’s house living room and your gaze softens as you see the usual frown you’ve become used to missing.

He is different than you thought.

At school he was all smiles and laughter. But that was just a mask. This was the real him, the human him. One that had a lot of baggage and was slowly trying to get rid of it.

Sighing, you put the tray in the table and move closer to him, kneeling in front of the couch where he is laying.

“Psst… Satoru… wake up”

He frowns and moves slightly, which makes you giggle softly. Was he pouting?

“Come on. Mom and dad left so I brought you breakfast” his eyes open slightly, “I made sure to bring also a piece of strawberry cheesecake”

That makes him sit up quickly. You giggle and shake your head in amusement. You had learned in the last few weeks of him living with you of his sweet tooth, it was adorable.

Except something look out of place.

His usual pale skin was red. And the house had AC so he shouldn’t be sweating that much. Also, why were his eyes bloodshot?

Worried you make your palm touch his forehead, frowning as you feel how hot it feels against your skin. You wanted to call my mother, but how would you explain the situation? What could you do?

He must’ve seen how worried you were, cause he smiled softly at me.

“I’m okay, Y/N”

Your frowned deepened. Without a word you stood up, crossing your backyard to go inside your house and look for some medicine in the cabinet. There was some flu medicine, you weren’t sure if it’d work but you needed to try. Then, you went to the kitchen and made him some ginger tea, which should help if he’s got a sour throat.

When you came back he was curled up in a ball, shivering slightly.

“Seriously, I’m fine”

“Shut up” you scoff, handing him the mug, “Drink the tea, I’ll look for a blanket”

You did as you said and he did as told. After the tea you made him drink the medicine you brought him, and then you help him eat the breakfast you prepared for him.

Throughout it all he watched you with an intense gaze that you didn’t understand, but didn’t mind either.

“Y/N… I think I wanna throw up”

You stop wetting the towels you were preparing for him, jumping to grab the trash can and kneeling down in front of him.

As soon as you set it down, Satoru hunched over it and started throwing up.

You felt your chest tighten. You didn’t want to pity him, but you kinda did. Whatever his home situation had been like, he preferred having no home to call his own and no parents to take care of him than keep on living there. Even when he was this sick.

He only had you now. And you had no clue on how to help him.

After he finished throwing up, you help him drink some water and help him brush his teeth before putting him to bed. He pouted and whined like a child, but you weren’t having any of that.

He was shaking so bad and sweating like crazy from the heat his body expelled, the thought of leaving him alone scared you.

So you didn’t.

You laid down next to him, not minding the possibility of getting sick, and every hour for the next ten hours that he continued to get sick you stayed by his side. You kept on emptying the trash can, wiping his sweat, changing his sheets, wetting his towels, making him soup and helping him eat. You didn’t even think about how gross it was.

He needed you, and you were not fucking failing him.

By the time he regained a little bit of his strength, you were exhausted. You sent him to take a shower and closed your eyes for a little bit.

Why were you so worried about him?

You sighed, too tired to think of an answer. What you did know is that you did care about him, and there was no changing that now.

When he finished showering, you made him seat next to you and covered him up with the blanket, leaning into him slightly as you felt yourself becoming sleepy.

“You should rest” he whispers, “You’ve been taking care of me all day”

“I’m not tired”

“Don’t be stubborn” he coughs, “Just sleep for ten minutes. Please?”

He never said please. You doubted the word was even in his vocabulary, yet he just said it so you would consider resting.

Silently, you close your eyes.

A few minutes later, you felt him lean over a little and press his lips against your collarbone, right between your shoulder and your neck. You stop yourself from shivering as you become breathless. It was a quick kiss. Not even one you could consider as romantic in any way, more like a thank-you kiss.

But it made you feel all kinds of things.

Even when it had already been a few hours since you left him, as you lay awake on your bed, you kept touching that spot with your fingers because you could still feel it.

It was probably one of the worst day of his life. But it had been one of your best.

The next couple of weeks things started changing between you and Satoru. Something had shifted in your dynamic.

Now you held hands. Now you slept some nights in the same bed. Now you both seek the warmth that came from the other. It made you wonder if he still saw you as a naive fifteen year old. He was just two years older, it shouldn’t make that much of a difference right?

You were currently both watching Finding Nemo in the main house’s living room. The part came up where Nemo’s father, Merlin, was looking for Nemo but feeling really defeated and Dory said: ‘When life gets you down do you wanna know what you gotta do? Just keep swimming’.

“Just keep swimming” you whisper to yourself, turning to face him with a soft smile as you grab and squeeze his hand, “Just keep swimming”

You wanted to be the one that helped him swim until he finally got to surface, until he finally could breathe again.

You both were now facing each other and he had a strange look in his eyes.

“When do you turn sixteen?”

“That’s a random question” you softly laughed, “In two more months… when do you turn eighteen?”

“Not until December” he said.

You nodded, wondering if he still saw you as a kid… and if he could ever see you as more.

Maybe when two people are fifteen and seventeen, it might seem a little too far apart. But once you turned sixteen, who would see the difference?

“I need to tell you something”, he said.

You lost your breath. Heart beating fast. Were you maybe too hopeful right now?

“I got in touch with my uncle today. My mom used to live with him in Boston. He told me once he gets back from his work trip I can stay with him”

Oh.

This was good news. This should make you happy. He’d have a home, a family. He’d be okay. So why weren’t you? Why were you feeling sorry for yourself?

“Are you going?” you asked, begging the universe your voice didn’t shake.

He shrugged, “I don’t know. I wanted to talk to you about it first.”

He was so close to you on the couch, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath. He smelled like mint.

You started fiddling with your hands, hoping to shake off the negative feelings surfacing.

“I don’t know what to say” you clear your throat, “I’m happy you have a safe place to stay, but what about school?”

A stupid excuse, but it was something.

“I could finish down there”, he said.

Oh.

He had already made up his mind, hadn’t he? You knew because he had this certain light in his eyes, a light you thought had extinguished.

Who were you to try to stop it from shining?

“When are you leaving?”

The words fled like acid in your throat.

You wondered how far away Boston is. It’s probably a few hours, but that’s a whole world away when you don’t own a car.

“I don’t know for sure that I am.”

“What’s stopping you? Your uncle is offering you a place to stay. That’s good, right?”

He tightened his lips together and nodded. Then he stop your fiddling hands, grabbing them on his own and playing with your fingers. He leaned back and then he did something you weren’t expecting. He moved his fingers to your lips and he touched them.

You felt like dying. How was it possible to feel so much at once? You had to be dying.

He kept his fingers there for a few seconds, and he said, “Thank you, Lily. For everything”

He moved his fingers up and through your hair, and then he leaned forward and planted a kiss on your forehead. Were you even breathing at this point? He looked down at me and you watched as his eyes went right to your mouth.

“Have you ever been kissed, Y/N?”

You shook your head no and tilted your face up to his because you needed him to change that right then and there or you weren’t gonna be able to breathe.

Then, too slow for your liking, he lowered his mouth to yours and just rested it there. You didn’t know what to do next, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care if you just stayed like that all night and never even moved your mouths, it was everything.

His lips closed over yours and you could kind of feel his hand shaking. You did what he was doing and started to move your lips like he was, although a little weird at first. You felt the tip of his tongue brush across your lips once and you thought your eyes were about to roll back in your head. He did it again, and then a third time, so you finally did it, too. When your tongues touched for the first time, you kind of smiled a little, because you had thought about your first kiss a lot. Where it would be, who it would be with. Never in a million years did you imagine it would feel like this.

He pushed you on your back and pressed his hand against your cheek and kept kissing you. It just got better and better as you grew more comfortable. Your favorite moment was when he pulled back for a second and looked down at you, then came back even harder.

You don’t know how long you kissed. A long time. So long, your mouth started to hurt and your eyes couldn’t stay open. By the time you both were too tired to open your eyes, you could still feels his lips ghosting over yours.

“You’re my favorite person”, you whisper, sleep overcoming you slowly.

“Out of how many people?”

His voice sounded alive for some reason. You didn’t dwell on it, too tired to try to open your eyes and see the look on his face.

“All of them”

His arms around you tighten, a small kiss being delivered to the side of your lip.

“You’re my favorite person too, Y/N. By a long shot”

You had to stop remembering the past. Especially now that you had a beautiful present paired with a future to look forward to. Naoya was perfect. He was everything you had wanted when you were a child.

Your chapter with Satoru was over. He was happy now.

You were happy now.

Time can definitely heal all wounds. Or at least most of them.

Life kept going and you buried any thought of Satoru that had come to mind. Things with Naoya became official and you felt on cloud nine every second you spent in his presence.

Especially after having sex. It was a hell of a ride.

You excitedly walked around your flower shop, humming a song under your breath and ignoring the weird looks Utahime and Maki are giving you.

Naoya had just called to say he was taking the day off for you. You had every right to feel giddy.

“Please tell me you’re being safe”

Your roll your eyes at Utahime as Maki fakes puking.

“Please, don’t”, Maki groans, “Still underage here”

“Both of you shush it” you laugh, “Utahime make sure to close. Maki get home safe. I got a dinner to make”

By the time you hear the door open you’re almost finished preparing the casserole mixture. You pour it into the glass pan and don’t turn around when you hear him walk into the kitchen.

You squeal when you feel the sting on your right butt cheek.

“Did you just slap my ass?”

“Don’t blame me, who wouldn’t want to smack that ass?”

You laugh. He raised the wine bottles in his hands with a grin, “It’s vintage”

Vintage,” I say with mock impression. “What’s the special occasion?”

He hands you a glass and says, “I have a smoking hot girlfriend and I have one of the most important trials of my life in a few days”

“What kind of trial?”

You both finish your glasses of wine and he pours you more.

“One that’s gonna be televised around the whole country. Career changing” he says, “A doctor that abused most of his female patients while anesthetized. Gotta put the bastard in jail”

Was it wrong to be turned on by your boyfriend putting trash men in jail?

“How long do you think it’ll take?”, you ask.

“Well, he had more than a hundred victims so… make three days trial if we keep it short”

You hated that people like that existed, but it made you like him more how hard he fought to get rid of them.

He chugs his wine then, “I’m gonna take a shower. Be right back”

He kissed your cheek swiftly before getting out of the kitchen.

You drink more of your wine.

He was on top of her.

They were on the couch and he had his hand around her throat, but his other hand was pulling up her dress. She was trying to fight him off and you just stood there, frozen. She kept begging him to get off her and then he hit her right across the face and told her to shut up.

You’ll never forget his words when he said, “You want attention? I’ll give you some fucking attention”

And that’s when she got real still and stopped fighting him. You heard her crying.

“Please be quiet. Y/N is here”, she sobbed, “Please be quiet”

Please be quiet while you rape me.

Was it possible for a person to feel this much hate? You walked straight to the kitchen and opened the drawer. It was like you weren’t in your own body. You grabbed the biggest knife you could find.

You weren’t planning to used it. You just wanted something that could scare him. But before you could make it out of the kitchen, two arms went around your waist and picked you up from behind. You dropped the know, but your father didn’t heart it. Your mother did.

You locked eyes with her as Satoru carried you back to your bedroom.

When you were back inside my room, you just started hitting him in the chest, trying to get back out there to her. You were crying (when had you started crying?) and doing everything you could to get him out of your way, but he wouldn’t move.

He just wrapped his arms around you tightly.

“Y/N, calm down”, he kept saying over and over.

He held you there for a long time until you accepted that he wasn’t gonna let you go back out there. He wasn’t gonna let you have that knife.

He walked over to the bed and grabbed his jacket and started putting on his shoes.

“We’ll go to the help’s house. We’ll call the police”

The police.

Your mother had warned you not to call the police in the past. She said it could jeopardize your father’s career. But in all honesty, you didn’t care at that point. The only thing you cared about was helping your mother, so you pulled on your jacket and went to the closet for a pair of shoes. When you stepped out of your closet, Satoru was staring at your bedroom door.

It was opening.

Your mother stepped inside and quickly shut it, locking it behind her. You’ll never forget what she looked like. She had blood coming down from her lip. Her eye was already starting to swell, and she had a clump of hair just resting on her shoulder. She looked at Satoru and then at you.

You didn’t even take a moment to feel scared that she had caught you in your room with a boy. You didn’t care about that. You were just worried about her.

You walked over to her and grabbed her hands and walked her to your bed. You brushed the hair off her shoulder and then from her forehead.

“He’s gonna go call the police, mom. Okay?”

Her eyes grew real wide and she started shaking her head.

“No” she said, “You can’t. No”

Satoru was already at your window about to leave, but he stopped and looked at you.

“He’s drunk, Y/N” she said, “He heard your door shut, so he went to our bedroom. He stopped. If you call the police, it’ll just make it worse, believe me. Just let him sleep it off, it’ll be better tomorrow”

But it wouldn’t. It hadn’t been in all these years. This had to be the final straw.

You shook your head and could feel the tears stinging your eyes, “Mom, he was trying to rape you!”

She ducked her head and winced when you said that.

“It’s not like that” she shook her head, “We’re married. And sometimes marriages is… you’re too young to understand”

It got really quiet for a minute.

“I hope to hell I never understand”

That’s when she started to cry. She just held her head in her hands and she started to sob and all you could do was wrap your arms around her and cry with her. You had never seen her this upset. Or this hurt. Or this scared. It broke your heart.

It broke you.

You chug the wine in your hand and pour yourself some more. Tonight was a happy day, a good one. Why were you thinking about that?

You’re on your fourth or fifth glass of wine when Naoya comes back.

“We have dinner reservations tomorrow with Utahime and Maki to celebrate your flower shop” he pours himself another glass, “We’re going to the restaurant we went with your mom. Dory was it called?”

Your heart sinks down your chest.

It’d be impossible to meet Satoru there again, right? It had been a coincidence. Boston was too big to find each other again… right?

“I don’t want to go back there. I didn’t like it. Let’s try something new”

“You’ll be fine,” he says, “Maki is excited to eat there, I told her all about it and for once she didn’t roll her eyes at me”

What are the odds of meeting again at that same place? Maybe you should just let it be.

“Speaking of food, I’m starving”

The casserole!

“Oh shit!” You say, laughing. You were definitely tipsy.

Naoya rushes to the kitchen and you stand up and follow him in there. You walk in just as he pulls the oven door open and waves away the smoke. Ruined.

You got dizzy all of a sudden from standing up too fast after having that many glasses of wine. So you grabbed the counter beside him to steady yourself, just as he reached in to pull the burnt casserole out.

“Wait, Naoya! You need a…”

“Shit!” he yells.

“Pot holder”

The casserole falls from his hand and lands on the floor, shattering everywhere. You lift up your feet to avoid broken glass and mushroom chicken splatter. You start laughing as soon as you realize he didn’t even think to use a pot holder.

Must be the wine. It was a seriously strong wine.

He slams the oven shut and moves to the faucet, shoving his hand under the cold water, muttering curse words. You’re trying to suppress your laughter, but the wine and the ridiculousness of the last few seconds are making it hard. You look at the floor, at the mess you’re both about to have to clean up, and the laughter bursts from you. You’re still laughing as you lean over to get a look at Naoya’s hand.

You hope he didn’t hurt it too bad.

Suddenly you’re not laughing anymore. You’re on the floor, your hand pressed against the corner of your eye.

In a matter of one second, Naoya’s arm came out of nowhere and slammed against you, knocking you backwards. There was enough force behind it to know you off balance. When you lost your footing, you hit your face on one of the cabinet door handles as you came down.

Pain shoots through the corner of your eye, right near your temple.

And then you feel the weight.

Heaviness follows and it presses down on every part of you. So much gravity, pushing down on your emotions. Everything shatters.

Your tears, your heart, your laughter, your happiness, your soul. Shattered like broken glass raining down around you.

You wrap your arms over your head and try to wish away the last ten seconds.

Was that all it took for everything to shatter? Only ten seconds?

“Shit, Y/N” you hear him groan, “It’s not funny. It fucking hurts”

You don’t look up.

His voice doesn’t penetrate your body this time. It feels like it’s stabbing you now; that sharpness of his words coming at you like swords.

And then his hands are on your back, rubbing it.

“Y/N. Oh, shit, Y/N” he tries to pull your arms away from your head, but you refuse.

You shake your head. Begging for the last seconds to go away. Ten seconds. That’s all it took for a person to completely change everything about themselves.

Ten seconds that you’ll never get back.

He pulled you against him and started kissing the top of your head.

“I’m so sorry. I just… I burned my hand. I panicked. You were laughing and… I’m so sorry, it all happened so fast. I didn’t mean to push you, Y/N. I’m sorry”

But you couldn’t hear Naoya, you only heard your father.

“I’m sorry, Y/M/N. It was an accident. I’m so sorry”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It was an accident. I’m so sorry”

You wanted him away from you.

Using every ounce of strength still in you, you pushed him away from you. He falls backward, onto his hands. His eyes are full of genuine sorrow, but then they’re full of something else.

Worry? Panic?

He slowly pulls up his right hand and it’s covered in blood. Blood is trickling out of his palm, down his wrist. You look at the floor, at the shattered pieces of glass from the casserole dish. His hand. You just pushed him onto glass.

He turns around and pulls himself up. He sticks his hand under the stream of water and starts rinsing away the blood. You stand up, shaking, just as he pulls a sliver of glass out of his palm and tosses it on the counter.

You’re full of so much anger, but somehow, concern for his hand still finds its way out. You grab a towel and shove it into his fist. There’s so much blood.

You try to help stop the bleeding, but you’re shaking too bad, “Naoya, your hand.”

He pulls the hand away and, with his good hand, he lifts my chin.

“Fuck the hand, Y/N. I don’t care about my hand. Are you okay?”

He’s looking back and forth between your eyes frantically as he assesses the cut on your face.

Your shoulders begin to shake and huge, hurt-filled tears spill down your cheeks.

“No” you’re sure he can hear your heart breaking with just that one word, because you can feel it in every part of you, “Oh my God. You pushed me, Naoya. You…”

The realization of what has just happened hurts worse than the actual action.

Naoya wraps his arm around your neck and desperately holds you against him, “I’m so sorry, Lily. God, I’m so sorry”, he buries his face against your hair, squeezing you with every emotion inside of him, “Please don’t hate me. Please”

His voice slowly starts to become his own voice again, and you feel it in your stomach, in your toes. He’s not even worried about his hand, which is still bleeding. That means something right?

There’s too much happening. The smoke, the wine, the broken glass, the food splattered everywhere, the blood, the anger, the apologies, it’s too much.

“I’m so sorry” he says again

You pull back and his eyes are red and you’ve never seen him look so sad.

“I panicked. I didn’t mean to push you away, I just panicked. All I could think about was my hand and… I’m so sorry”

He presses his mouth to your and breathes you in.

He’s not like your father. He can’t be. He’s nothing like that uncaring bastard.

You’re both upset and kissing and confused and sad. You’ve never felt anything like this moment, so ugly and painful. But somehow the only thing that eases the hurt just caused by this man is this man. Your tears are soothed by his sorrow, your emotions soothed with his mouth against yours, his hand gripping yours like he never wants to let go.

Naoya isn’t like your father. He’s nothing like him.

He can’t be.

part two [coming soon]

#gojo x oc #jjk gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk satoru #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #naoya zenin #naoya x reader

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strawberrystepmom · 1 year ago

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malevolent enterprise ch. 2

ceo au series. sukuna and yuji are brothers. gojo x f!reader are endgame but this is backstory/lead up. reader has hair that can be swept off of their face. reader is a lawyer (ive taken creative liberties bc i am not a real lawyer so take it up with god if u find an issue) and has an established platonic relationship with sukuna and has an ex boyfriend that is an oc named shigeo. cw drug and alcohol mentions. wc 1.8k.

masterlist coming soon but in the meantime, ch. 1 can be found here

divider thanks to @/cafekitsune ♡

“Forgot I paid you to stand around, ---.”

Hearing Sukuna use a shortened version of your full name, you roll your eyes and pull your glasses off of your face, holding them between your thumb and index finger. Meeting his gaze with an indignant look of your own, you toss the pen you’re holding with your other hand down on the desk in front of you and groan in frustration.

You’re only standing in his office because you've been reviewing contract abstracts for hours and could use a break before your brain starts to turn to mush given his absolutely archaic NDA demands that would never be upheld in court.

“Am I not allowed to pace? Is that one of the workplace rules you’ve set we all have to follow, King Ryomen?”

He appreciates your sharp wit if nothing else so he chuckles, walking around you to plop down behind the heaviest and most ornate looking desk you’ve seen in a modern office.

Truly fit for a man who sees himself as a king.

“Can I make all of you start calling me that? Will HR have an issue?”

You scoff and shake your head.

“Yes. I have a funny feeling they would indeed take issue with you demanding your employees call you king.”

Placing your glasses back on the bridge of your nose, you sweep back a few tendrils of hair that have fallen in front of your face and sigh, raking your fingers through the top of your overgrown layers. You’ve been too busy lately to even get a trim, late nights spent at the revenge motivated Ryomen Enterprises preventing you from doing much but provide general counsel, as your position and official title state.

You left one incredibly oppressive job for another and you don’t quite regret hitching your wagon to Sukuna but you aren’t proud of it either, especially putting your own goal of having your own firm on hold to do it.

Leaving the Zen’in firm seemed intelligent three months ago after Naoya was named partner instead of you, the tireless hours you put into the blockbuster Miyamoto v. DTK, Inc. wrongful termination suit, the first of its kind in the country, meaning ultimately nothing when it comes to family ties and misogyny.

You handed your resignation to Naobito the next day who received it with a knowing smirk, glad to see one less bitch too big for her skirt suit step aside. Two months later Sukuna reached out to you and you assumed you’d be stupid to pass up a comfortable and lucrative in-house counsel position in a well funded company everyone had just started buzzing about.

It also helps that the founder of said company is someone you’ve known for long enough you have seen him shuffle through several life phases.

Needless to say the job hasn’t been what you expected it to be since saying yes though, sifting through a bankers box full of Manila envelopes, muttering aloud about all the shit you need to get done and the severe lack of hours in the day.

“The journalist hasn’t sent back her NDA yet,” you remark and he hums. He knows exactly the pretty little pink haired thing you’re mentioning and he smirks thinking about how easily he pulled her apart in a penthouse suite 8 blocks away a few nights ago but his attention is drawn back to the present when you slam a stack of papers in front of him.

“Your brother’s company doesn’t even have in-house counsel.”

Sukuna arches a brow, sitting back in his chair and slamming his feet on the desk. You don’t even jump, perhaps too used to his antics after only a couple months of working for him. It’s not like he was a stranger to start with, the senior you helped through your sophomore Contracts course remembering you fondly for your plucky demeanor and willingness to fight when necessary.

You simply remember him as a smooth talking asshole who charmed you into doing his coursework successfully but he signs your checks so you keep your assessments of his character to yourself as often as possible.

“How do you know what’s going on at Yuji’s company? Are you a mole?”

A snort is your response and you toss him a glance from over your glasses, one he knows means he’s treading in dangerous territory. Tossing down one of the near bursting envelopes in your hand, you pick up your phone and grimace at the text lighting up the screen.

Toge: maki wants 2 eat w u at some point this millennium - her words

Rolling your eyes, you text back and Sukuna watches with a grin, wondering what in the world could have you so irritated on your phone.

“That’s not Gojo is it?”

You scoff again and add nothing further, continuing to focus on your phone despite the second last message Toge sent you containing a link to a headline showing off the man just mentioned wining and dining a pretty dark haired woman across the world last night.

Quickly, you type a reply to Toge’s message to send the bubble with the news article further out of your periphery.

You: are you guys together? where are you?

“It’s my assistant reminding me to eat since I don’t get a spare second to do it working for you,” you finally remark, locking your phone with a wince.

You try to pretend you’re too good to be affected by the latest news of Satoru’s careless public hookups but you did lock yourself in the executive bathroom to cry at your own reflection for 45 minutes earlier so you opt for silence rather than digging the hole any deeper.

Why you care in the first place is beyond you, the two of you only ever orbiting around one another, no serious groundwork for anything beyond neutrality laid. You can’t help who you’re attracted to, though, and while there’s no use in lamenting that you’re nobody to the man you can at least sit down and dye your hair a shade darker to pretend he’d be interested next time you get the chance.

Sukuna pulls you out of the hole your mind is in, swinging back and forth in his chair, making it squeal with each quarter turn and further annoying you.

“When’s the last time you went out and did anything besides look at paperwork and smoke with the window cracked? You look like shit.”

The expression on your face is priceless, shifting to glare at your boss while he snickers to himself and shrugs, knuckles wrapped around his opposite bicep.

“Yuji’s party is the last time I went out.”

Well over a month ago. Sukuna whistles lowly, still shifting idly in his chair.

“I’m just saying maybe you need more than just a bite to eat to feel better. Text your ex or something, didn’t he just get surgery? He’s probably at home.”

The mention of Shigeo, baseball star, makes you exhale as loudly as possible and throw down another envelope. He’s the last person you want to hear about, given you broke his heart just over six months ago, admitting you didn’t see yourself marrying him when he asked about a shared future for the two of you. He’s sweet, he’s wonderful, he’s a good man but he isn’t your forever man and finally, anger makes your face flush and feel warm, your boss successfully making his way under your skin.

“Don’t you have illicit substances to snort out of someone’s asshole?” You look away and mutter under your breath, much to the amusement of the man watching each irritated step you take. “What are you even doing here anyway? It’s after hours.”

Sukuna takes his feet off of the desk and leans forward on his elbows, sucking his teeth. He isn’t sure why he’s here, actually. Perhaps he’s partied out and tired of hosting giggling girls with nothing better to do than hang on his every word or maybe he wants to look over his kingdom without prying eyes judging his every mood. Both of these are a little true but above all, part of him holds the tiniest bit of fondness for you. At least enough that he’s concerned you’re overworking yourself.

“Go out tonight. All this shit will be here tomorrow and I’m sure I’ll give you even more to deal with by the time the sun is up again.”

You sigh and look down at your phone, screen lighting up as another message from your personal assistant comes through.

Toge: den, just sat down. ordered you vodka soda.

“Fine but let your little pink princess know that if her NDA isn’t in by next week I’m going to sit there and watch you two fuck to make sure nothing gets out.”

Sukuna hums, brows raised.

“I always knew you were a freak.” You roll your eyes and he chuckles, standing up from his chair and letting it roll back far enough it bumps against the glass floor to ceiling window behind it. “You’re one of those girls who wears really sexy underwear but never lets anyone see them, right?”

Tucking documents into a box, you snarl. He’s not

flirting, he's making nasty observations as he is known to do. He has known you for long enough he feels extremely comfortable doing so and you can hardly argue with him. Who cares even if he is right? You’re a grown woman with a lucrative career and life, if you wanna wear 50,000 yen silk panties that’s your business.

“That’s more than enough out of you.” Another document tucked and you approach Sukuna, looking up at him with your mouth in a line. “I’ll be in by 10 tomorrow. Don’t fuck my night up.”

He nods, holding his hands up in a gesture of mild surrender.

“I’m serious about the NDA too. I’ll meet with her if you want but I won’t promise to be nice about it.”

Your boss scoffs but smirks.

“You’re always too nice, that's why you don’t have it yet but I’ll talk to her.”

Nodding, you acquiesce, uninterested in arguing while you tie your coat closed. Your phone lights up again and you look down at the message with a groan.

Toge: ice melting…👎🏻

“I mean it, Sukuna Itadori. I do not want to hear a single report of bad behavior in the morning.”

The only person allowed to still call him his family name is you and you turn on your heel, stilettos clacking across the marble floor with each step.

“Whatever you say, boss.”

His sly remark makes you toss another look over your shoulder while opening the office door but the buzz of your phone catches your attention instead.

Maki: If you aren’t here in 15 I’m dragging you out of that building myself.

Knowing she means it, you stiffen and rush to leave.

“No drama, Sukuna!”

You shout over your shoulder and he chuckles, opening his own phone and scrolling to the contact for the pretty little pink princess he hopes to have back between his jaws tonight.

#sukuna x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #kendall writes #malevolent enterprise

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violetsaffron5 · 1 year ago

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NSFW Gojo Week (4)

Ao3 • Discord 18+ • Social Media • Series Masterlists

Pairing: Gojo x f!Reader

As the executive assistant, it's your job to make sure the company anniversary event goes on without a hitch. Your boss, however, has another idea for your talents.

cw: possessive gojo, power dynamic, boss x employee/ceo x assistant, edging, degradation, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, hate sex (kinda)

words: 2.2k

Masterlist • Day 3 • Day 5

Sometimes you hate your boss. You really, really do.

He loves to hear the sound of his own voice, loves to tease and poke fun at you any chance he gets. He’s also impatient, rash, has no regard for others and the authority they hold.

And sometimes he’s just plain mean.

But god, if he isn’t fucking sexy.

White hair tousled just right, crystalline eyes that shine bright with frosted lashes. When he smiles, his eyes crinkle slightly in the corner adding to his perfection. An absolute Adonis if you’ve ever seen one.

Sometimes you forget how much you hate him. Especially when he hands you his black credit card telling you to find the perfect dress for your company's upcoming fiftieth-anniversary event.

Everyone in the company attends these events and as the CEO’s personal assistant, your attendance is required. You need to radiate elegance, beauty, and grace to fit in with the elite echelon that will also be present.

It’s important that those with status and power within the company look their best. The men will be in hand-crafted, tailored suits, and the woman in luxury designer gowns.

You know when Gojo tells you to pick something out for the event that he expects you to choose something classy, yet sexy. It’ll show skin, but not too much.

He says it’s because he doesn’t appreciate the way other men leer at you. Part of you has always wondered if it’s something else.

When it comes to Satoru Gojo, there are two things you’re sure of:

First, he doesn’t have a partner. Being one of Tokyo's most eligible bachelors, a playboy like him doesn’t seem to be interested in settling down.

Second, you don’t miss the looks he gives you every day in the office.

You notice the way he watches you at your desk, just outside his office, from time to time, chewing on your pen as you listen intently to whoever is on the other line trying to schedule a meeting with him. You’ve also noticed the way he focuses on your lips as you talk, sitting across his desk squeezing your thighs together, squirming under his intense gaze. And you can feel the hole he’s burning into your ass when you walk away, hips swaying back to your own space.

On the night of the anniversary event you wear a black, floor-length dress with two slits up to your thighs, pinches at your waist perfectly, and shows off your bust. You haven’t seen Gojo yet, but you’re sure he’ll appear at any moment.

All of the board members, higher-ups, and competitors are here tonight to celebrate the company's accomplishments throughout the years. In the little circle you stand in talking with several of them, you recognize one in particular who has come to see Gojo several times over the years.

Naoya Zenin, with his bleach-blonde hair and designer tux, hands you a drink with a Cheshire grin while looking you up and down, “You know, you look great for your age. You should wear things that accentuate your womanly features more often.”

You tilt your head to the side and blink several times at his backhanded compliment before gaining your composure and accepting his drink. You would love nothing more than to give him a taste of his own medicine right now, but anything you say or do would reflect poorly on the business, and now isn’t the time for that.

Before Naoya has a chance to insult you again, a large hand snakes around your waist, pulling you into him.

“What’s going on here?” Gojo’s tone is icy, accusatory, but for what, you’re not sure.

“Oh nothing much,” Naoya says eyes flickering between the two of you, “Just chatting with your personal assistant.”

You glare at him while Gojo grabs the drink Naoya gave you from your hand, sniffing it quickly before handing it back to his competitor.

“Those of us presenting awards tonight aren’t allowed to drink until after the ceremony. There’s still plenty of work that needs to be done before we can relax.”

Gojo swiftly presses the drink back into Naoya’s hand causing it to spill all over his suit, causing the man to roll his eyes and grumble before walking away.

Turning to Gojo, you smile meekly while adjusting his tie. As expected, he looks better than ever in his fitted black suit, “Thanks for getting me out of that situation. That guy’s an asshole.”

He’s watching you with an expression you can’t read, but he does nod slowly in acknowledgment, “I need your help getting some last-minute changes organized before the announcements and awards are presented.”

Things like this aren’t uncommon, having to change the presentation or make other small things so everything runs smoothly at these events, so you studiously walk with Gojo to the elevator, making your way to his office on the top floor.

He keeps his arm locked around your waist in the elevator, and all it takes is one look. One simple look of you looking up to meet his azure gaze, eyes staring at your lips before closing the gap and pressing his lips to yours.

It doesn’t take long until you’re laying on your boss's desk, legs spread wide, cunt on full display as curls two fingers, hitting your sweet spot.

“G-Gojo, please,” You’re begging for the release he’s denied you of several times already, before feeling a hard smack to your ass, causing you to yelp and arch your back from the sting.

“I’ve already told you. When we fuck, call me Satoru.”

Tears are forming in the corner of your eyes, hips thrusting up to meet his hand, searching for anything to press against your aching clit as you whine, “Sa-Satoru, please, please!”

The top of your dress has been pulled down, breasts exposed, and bouncing with every thrust. The hem has been lifted over your hips, bunched up at your waist. But aside from his tie having been loosened and a few of the top buttons undone, he’s still totally clothed.

“Please what, baby?” He cocks his head to the side, a saccharine grin plastered on his face.

Your brain is mush at this point, but you don’t care. Rutting your hips up, he chuckles, letting his thumb slowly graze over your clit, just long enough to tease before moving it away.

“I need - fuck - I need to cum, please.”

He quirks an eyebrow before cooing, “You need to cum?”

A soft whine leaves your lips as you shake your head yes.

Satoru snickers rubbing his thumb over your neglected clit in small tight circles, “See, I don’t really think you do. You need water for hydration, air to breathe. But you don’t need to cum.”

Your legs tremble and twitch, the thread that’s formed in your belly threatening to snap at any moment. And he knows, which is why he removes his thumb from your clit at the last possible second.

Tears well in the corner of your eye as you gasp out several obscenities at the loss of stimulation, unsure of what you even said when your back arches off the desk.

“It would have been better to say you deserve to cum. But even then, that begs the question.”

You look at him with furrowed brows and decide you really do fucking hate him. You knew you did, but you’re always blinded when he’s nice and generous to you.

Even though he had the face of an angel, he’s actually the devil and you should have known as soon as he kissed you, this is how your time together was going to go.

“Do you deserve to cum?” He asks seriously, pumping his fingers in and out of your core.

“Y-yes.”

His eyes widen as he laughs - laughs - at your answer.

“Really? Do you really think so? With the way you smile at Nanami and Suguru, and laugh at their jokes in the break room? That I wouldn’t see you were giving that pathetic, fucking Zenin bastard ‘fuck me’ eyes when he handed you that cocktail?”

You huff at his words, sucking in a sharp breath between your teeth, “Is your ego really so fragile you think I’d flirt with any of them over you?”

He increases his pace at your remark, rubbing his long fingers along the spot on the inside that has you seeing stars, legs trembling once again from having been denied your release only seconds or minutes prior, you’re not sure.

“Ask nicely.”

“What?”

He glares at you, “Ask nicely and I’ll think about letting you cum.”

“Please, please, please, I’ll do anything!” You whine, so pathetic, so pretty with the thought of your release being within reach, “Please fuck me, please let me cum.”

“Fine. You’re so fuckin’ needy.” He breathes, withdrawing his hand from your core, you whimper at the loss of being filled as he works to undo his belt, the prongs clinking against the buckle as his slacks fall to the floor.

You sit up on your elbows, watching his cock spring free as soon as he releases it from the confine of his briefs. You snake your lip between your teeth at the sight, looking up to meet his cocky grin as he pumps himself a few times.

Of course, he has a dick just as pretty as his face, huge, and the tip perfectly pink.

Satoru hovers over you, the blunt tip of his cock slipping past your entrance as you inhale sharply from being stretched. He goes slower than you expect, savoring every moment of entering you for the first time. His large hands grip your waist so tight there’s sure to be bruises later, in an effort to stop himself from bottoming out immediately.

“Baby, you’re so wet,” He mutters, slowly moving his hips, letting you adjust to the feeling of being filled by him. So different from his attitude just moments before when he was hellbent on edging you within an inch of your life.

He rocks his hips, gently, shallowly a few times before sliding all the way out and slamming back in; moaning, throwing his head back as lewd squelching echoes in the room.

“Look at you,” Satoru coos, “Such a cockslut. Letting her boss fuck her brains out.” You clench around him automatically at his words, and he hisses, leaning over you. “Ha - you like that?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You moan out as he increases his pace, watching as your tits bounce in time with his thrusts.

Grabbing your legs, he throws them over his shoulder, leaning down and crashing his lips with yours, literally folding you in half. You cry out in pleasure at just how deep he’s able to go, allowing him to slip his tongue past your lips.

Just like you’ve always imagined, his lips are soft and full against yours; his kisses are needy and hurried, like if he doesn’t do this now, he may never get the chance again.

“Don’t cum.” He demands as you clench around him, heat in your core building and building once again.

Your eyes widen at his request, nails digging into the nape of his neck and tugging his hair, “What? Why?”

His long arms reach across the desk, hands gripping the mahogany so hard on the other side his knuckles are white, snapping his hips into yours as he fucks you faster, harder, and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as you whine and moan against him trying your hardest to hold back your impending orgasm.

Removing your legs from his shoulders, he easily lifts you from the desk, kissing feverishly as he walks you over to the full-length windows in his office.

You gasp, as your back hits the cool window, your back and ass on full display for all of Tokyo - of course, they won't be able to actually see it, considering you’re on the top floor of one of the tallest buildings in the city.

“You’re coming with me on all my business trips from now on,” He sighs as you kiss along his neck jaw, nipping at his earlobe while he pistons his hips into yours, “Been wanting to do this for so long.”

He’s fucking you within an inch of your life, and unable to hold back any further, shattering around him as your mouth falls slack, vision going white from the intensity.

“Shhh, baby,” He coos, “We gotta get back s-soon.”

His hips falter and stutter against yours, feeling just how hard you’re gripping around him, sloppily kissing into you as he lets out a low groan, finding his own release not long after you.

You’re still against the window, panting as he continues fucking you through his release, coming down from your high. Both of your fluids dripping obscenely onto the floor below.

As you work on catching your breath, Satoru helps you stand on shaky legs, lazily kissing your lips as you hold onto his arms and shoulder for support. Leaning against the window, you wipe his sweat-covered bangs off his forehead before removing the lipstick stains littering his jaw and neck with your thumb.

Just as the two of you finish adjusting your clothes, someone rasps on his office before opening it.

Satoru is quick to cage you in against the window, hiding your face from whoever just entered.

Nanami, judging by the sound of his voice, “Gojo. The awards are about to start.” “Uh, yeah. We’ll - I’ll be down in a minute.”

#jjk fanfic #violetsaffronfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #nsfwgojoweek2023

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chosotallgf · 4 months ago

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DOUBLE IDENTITY #1 - TOJI FUSHIGURO

next chapter 🔜

SYNOPSIS | y/n is a third year college student who is about to intern for the top business company in Japan in a week, what happens when she unknowingly cross paths with her future boss not knowing he’s hiding a secret.

WARNING | mafiaboss toji x fém!reader, geto x fém!reader, alcohol, moderate au, sexual activity, criminal activity & behavior, naoya is his own warning, angst & fluff (not really lol) not proof read

p.s my work is only on A03 & tumblr!

it was finally the weekend which means you and your girls can turn up in club after your lectures. I mean what is a Friday night if you are not clubbing in your 20s? you have 1 year left before you graduate from university & is interning at one of the top businesses in japan in a week.

you been waiting for this opportunity since you hear a new ceo was appointed not so long ago, you also hear gossip that he always looks detached / laidback but he’s also very wealthy so it’s fine right? what could possibly go wrong?

Rushing up your apartment stairs to get ready & nearly falling to get to your closet. you promised your two best friends shoko & utahime to be dress by midnight and it was well past 10pm. destroying your closet wasn’t enough you needed to find the perfect outfit for tonight, it didn’t help that you also had to take a bath & do your makeup which all together was about an hour.

as you were searching you spot your off the shoulder tight mesh top that push up your boobs up good. “yeah this top will do for now” you thought as you pair it with a black mini skirt.

Half way getting ready, you hear a loud ass banging nose against your door “y/n you better hurry tf up I wanna make sure we get a good section at the club” utahime shouts. “hold on give me a min” you huff out as you struggle to get your last pair of heels on.

Finally all done you walk downstairs to find them snooping thru your fridge “if your hungry their barely anything in there, I haven’t gone shopping yet” “I can tell I only see this half ate pie left” shoko says as she grabs a fork. “So who the lucky guy that’s been taking you out to dinner Mhm?” Utahime grins says crossing her arms.

“No one” I roll my eyes. “I been so busy & tried that all I been eating is takeout, between classes and getting ready for this new internship it’s hell” my face clearly showing that I’m stressed, utahime pulls me into a hug saying “don’t put too much pressure on your self you need to relax you already got the intern whats more to worry about?” Puffing out “I don’t know what if I somehow mess this up? I been pulling so much into my classes to get good grades but it will be all for nothing if I can’t even get working for a company correctly”

“see their you go again worry about the future, just have fun in the moment, right shoko?” she gesture towards me at Vivi to get her to agree. I mean she’s right but I saw so many reviews online about how the company is strict and isn’t afraid to disposition anyone. “utahime right, plus we are suppose to clubbing right having fun and this isn’t let’s goo” shoko wraps her arms around me and utahime shoulders as she pulls us to the door with kisses on our cheek. if only y/n knew this was the first step leading down a dangerous road….

author note: I already wrote like half of the beginning of this fic so give me time to post chapter 2 soon :)

also lmk if you wanna be tagged when 2nd chapter is posted! remember to like and reblog

update chapter 2 is posted

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alygator77 · 5 months ago

Text

ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 2 ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex » 【note, there is physical & emotional intimidation in this chapter (from naoya not satoru), this is a form of domestic abuse, reader discretion advised】

ꨄ words: 12.5k

ꨄ a/n. firstly, wow thank you so much for all your kind words on ch 1 :") secondly, this series may be more than 3 chapters (maybe more like 4 or 5?) idk i'm still working out the pacing rn bc i really want the relationship to feel fluid and natural. this chapter ended up being much longer than i anticipated 😅 but as always, i would love to hear your thoughts and hope you enjoy ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

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ch 2 // under the spotlight

Becoming a mother makes you realize you can do almost anything one-handed—though honestly, sometimes you wish you had an abundance of limbs.

Especially now. Your apartment is a whirlwind of activity – scattered toys, half packed bags and the remnants of breakfast still on the table. You’re in the middle of prepping your daughter’s essentials, trying to make sure you don’t forget anything important. Her preferred snacks, extra clothes, diapers, and a few of her favorite toys all stuffed into a bag.

“Mama, mama, look!”

Haru’s innocent voice rings out like a melody amidst your morning clamor. Halting your frantic movements, you’re drawn to her face, lit up with pure joy as she holds up her beloved Pikachu plushie. The bright yellow toy bounces in her hands as she makes it dance.

Her innocence provides a brief, much-needed, calm to the storm of nerves brewing inside of you. After all, today’s the day you’re meeting with Satoru and his lawyer to finalize the marriage contract. Your marriage—weird.

It feels odd saying it, the word foreign on your tongue. Marriage is a concept you never thought you’d be rushing into, especially not like this.

Once upon a time, you thought you’d marry Naoya Zenin.

Back then, you were so in love with his charm, his confidence, and the way he seemed to have everything figured out. But reality had a way of shattering those illusions.

His charm turned to arrogance, his confidence to control. It wasn’t long before you realized he cared more about owning you than loving you, and now you’re left with nothing but heartache and a broken family.

But amidst your turmoil you found a precious gift—Haru.

Her infectious giggle is a stark contrast to the chaos within your mind—it always manages to pull you back from your whirlwind of worries.

You’ll do anything in your power to keep her smiling, even if that means marrying Satoru Gojo, the man who is guilty for an abundance of your headaches.

With a deep breath, you zip up your duffle bag and turn to Haru who is lovably babbling to Pikachu.

“Come here, sweetie,” you say, kneeling down with her small jacket in your hand.

She toddles over to you, clutching her comforting plushie, eyes wide and curious.

Easing her tiny arms into the sleeves, you gently help Haru into her jacket.

“We’re going to meet some new friends today,” you tell her softly, fastening the buttons with care. “One of them is named Mr. Gojo.”

“Mr. Gojo?” she echoes, face scrunching up in concentration.

Truth be told, you weren't planning on bringing Haru to this meeting, but you’re faced with a lack of options, especially since technically, you’re fired.

Well… temporarily.

Until Satoru rehires you, paying the nanny isn’t feasible with your already stretched finances, Utahime, your ever-reliable friend, is unavailable. Your neighbor, who sometimes steps in to help, is out of town, and your mom is… your mom – as undependable as ever.

At this point you'd rather be caught dead than call Naoya again.

Calling him yesterday, when your nanny bailed, was a moment of pure desperation, a lapse in judgment driven by the chaos of the day and the fear of getting fired. Not your proudest moment.

It’s no surprise he’ll likely use it against you—hold it over your head like a weapon. It’s a pattern you’re all too familiar with.

But today marks the beginning of a new chapter, one that you’re determined to make the best of for both you and your daughter—once this marriage is finalized, you’ll be back to earning a steady income again.

A sigh escapes your lips as you focus back on Haru, her innocent eyes look up at you expectantly.

“Yes, Mr. Gojo,” you repeat, giving her a reassuring smile as you reach down to tie her shoelaces. “We’re going on an adventure today, just you and Mommy.”

“An adventure!” Haru cheers, clapping her hands in unbridled excitement.

Just as you pull the last loop tight, a knock reverberates through the front door, startling you. It’s unexpected, you weren’t anticipating any visitors.

With a deep breath, you twist the handle and pull the door open. The sight that greets you sends a cold wave of dread crashing over you, your heart pounding in your chest.

Speak of the devil—Naoya.

He has an uncanny knack for impeccable timing, always appearing when he’s least wanted.

His presence is as imposing as ever—a smirk crowned on his lips, posture relaxed, hands in his pockets—exuding an air of ownership over everything that’s around him.

As if he owns you.

Damn it. You really can’t deal with this right now; you don’t have the time. Satoru is expecting you, and you need to get moving.

Leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, he surveys you with that annoyingly smug expression plastered upon his face.

"Well, well, if it isn't my two favorite girls," he drawls, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

The frustration you feel from Naoya is vastly different from what you experience with Satoru. With Satoru, it's harmless—like dealing with a mischievous child. But with Naoya, every sight of him makes you want to flee, as if each encounter is a battle you barely survive. He reopens old wounds that never truly healed, leaving you raw and exposed.

Every fiber of your being screams in protest at the sight of him, but you force yourself to maintain composure—refusing to let him see the effect he has on you.

"What do you want, Naoya? I really don’t have time for this today."

Turning away from him, you begin gathering the last of Haru’s things with brisk, precise movements, making it clear you have no intention of prolonging this interaction.

He steps inside, smirk widening with satisfaction and tone laced with mock concern.

"Just thought I'd drop by and see how you're managing. Got your message. Heard you were looking for a babysitter yesterday.”

As expected—you’re really kicking yourself for calling him. His false sympathy only heightens your irritation, grating on your nerves as the condescension drips from his words like venom.

If you weren’t already leaving, you would slam the door right in his smug face.

Gritting your teeth, you attempt to keep your tone steady, for no one other than Haru.

"We're fine, Naoya. We don’t need your help."

In hopes to end this conversation quickly, you grasp Haru’s hand and attempt to brush past him. But he sidesteps, effectively forbidding your path to the door, looming like an unwanted shadow.

"Still as stubborn as ever, I see. How’s that working out for you?” he scowls as he peers through your apartment, “This place is a mess. And you don’t look like you’re dressed for work. Lost your job already?”

His words hit a nerve, you feel your cheeks flush with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

"We are managing just fine. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have somewhere to be."

But he wasn’t going to let you go so easily. His expression darkens, and as you repeatedly try to step past him, he halts you yet again, blocking your way like an insurmountable wall.

"And where exactly are you going? Shouldn't you be at work today?"

"That's none of your business. I really need to go," you retort, lifting your chin assertively as you force your way past him. Your shoulder brushes against his in a deliberate act of defiance.

The moment you cast him aside, he immediately pursues after—but choosing to ignore him, you close the door behind you, turning the lock with a decisive click.

As you start leading Haru towards the elevator, you adopt a brisk pace in hopes to put as much distance between you and Naoya as possible.

But he raises an eyebrow, smirk widening as he traverses after you. You hear his footsteps echoing down the hallway of your apartment complex.

"Oh, I think it is my business. Especially when it concerns my daughter."

Oh, please.

It’s painfully ironic how he pretends to care about Haru only when it suits him.

After you served him child support papers, he had the audacity to demand a DNA test, claiming he needed ‘proof’ that Haru was his. Of course, something like that takes time for the judge to arrange.

He knew that damn well—it was just another ploy to delay the process further.

As anger bubbles up within you, a scoff escapes your lips, teetering on the edge of a bitter laugh.

"Oh, so she’s yours when it’s convenient for you. Don't pretend you care about Haru now. You’ve done nothing but make our lives difficult."

Your movements are sharp and frantic until you finally halt in front of the elevator. Just as you press the button to descend, Naoya’s presence descends over you—suffocating like a dark cloud, his face twisting into a menacing scowl.

"Maybe if you weren’t so damn stubborn, things wouldn’t be so difficult. You know, if you ever need help, all you have to do is ask," the insincerity in his voice makes your skin crawl—as his words slither into your ears, each syllable is laced with a condescending edge.

You scoff, jabbing the button over and over again with mounting urgency. Can this damn elevator come any faster?

"Help? From you? I'd rather figure things out on my own than rely on your 'help'."

He steps closer, making you feel small and cornered. It’s a familiar tactic he would use to get his way—the accustomed sense of intimidation he used to exert over you returns, chilling your spine.

"Suit yourself. Just remember, you can’t keep this up forever. Sooner or later, you’ll realize you need me again,” his voice drops to a low, threatening whisper, the underlying menace making it clear that he relishes the control he still believes he has over you.

Suddenly, you feel small tiny hands gripping tightly onto your leg. Haru’s wide eyes dart between the two of you, her innocent face reflecting a nervous unease that she can’t fully understand—but you do.

Fuck it. Enough is enough. You can't let this continue any longer—screw the elevator.

With a determined breath, you scoop Haru into your arms, feeling her trembling slightly against you. "Come on, sweetie," you say softly.

Her tiny heart beats against your chest, mirroring your own anxiety. Holding her close, you immediately head towards the stairway, your stride quickening.

But Naoya's presence lingers, his footsteps echoing ominously after you.

“Really, Naoya?”

Oh, this is it. Your patience is wearing thin—he’s like a growth you can’t get rid of.

You feel Haru’s grip tighten around your neck as she buries her face into your shoulder. You have been trying desperately not to yell, for Haru’s sake, but at this point, Naoya is overstepping your boundaries.

“Just go away. The only thing I need from you is to hurry up and finish that damn DNA test,” you shout, refusing to look back as you head towards the stairs. “There was no reason for that bullshit; you know Haru is yours. I know you’re just trying to stall our court date,” you snap, your voice trembling with frustration and anger.

Naoya’s eyes gleam with a cold amusement, and the corners of his mouth curl up into a mocking smile.

"Stalling? Hardly. You’re insane, I just want to be thorough. You should understand that, being so meticulous yourself," he sneers, tone derisively sweet.

Finally, you reach the stairway—beginning your descent, Haru clings tightly to you as Pikachu dangles precariously from each hurried step.

"This conversation is over, Naoya,” your voice echoes in the narrow space. “Stay out of our lives. I only want to see you in court."

Naoya contemplates following you, lowering himself a few steps before abruptly stopping. As his voice reverberates through the stairwell, his unsettling demand bounces off the cold concrete walls, chilling you to your core.

"For now, y/n. But remember, this isn’t over. Not by a long shot. You always come crawling back to me one way or another. You’re incapable of anything without me."

There was a time when you believed those words, but you will not fall back into that same vicious cycle.

Choosing not to respond, your resolve is sharpened with one clear goal, getting Haru and yourself out of this building as quickly as possible.

The moment you clear through the lobby door, a shaky sigh escapes your lips. This day is already starting off with a bang—hopefully it goes much better at Satoru’s.

Forcing a smile for your frightened daughter, you try to mask the tears welling up in your eyes—the tremor in your voice quaking.

“Come on honey, let’s go meet Mr. Gojo.”

Time to get this marriage finalized.

ꨄ︎

You had expectations of what Satoru’s house would be like, but even those couldn’t hold a light to the real thing—it’s a stark contrast to the modest apartment you call home.

The meticulously manicured lawn, the pristine arcadian, and the large, ornate door all showcase opulence.

It’s far more luxurious than you had imagined, making you feel distinctly out of place as you step out of your car in your worn jeans and t-shirt, hair pulled up in a lazy bun.

Wait…should you have come dressed businesslike?

But you have Haru—was this supposed to be a professional meeting? Fuck.

On top of everything else, you’re already a few minutes late. Tardiness has become a tiresome trend in your life, one that exhausts you to your very core.

Traversing the entryway, Haru grips your hand tightly as you walk through the stone pathway. Her fingers tremble slightly, perhaps from the unsettling encounter with Naoya, or perhaps from the overwhelming new environment.

Nerves simmer through you once you approach the doorway, but you resolve to mask them. You weren’t going to let Naoya ruin your day—this meeting is your chance to retake control of your life.

As you reach out and press the doorbell, a soft melodic chime resonates, echoing through the spacious foyer beyond.

Within moments, the door swings open, revealing Satoru.

You immediately feel a sense of relief as you observe him dressed surprisingly casual—a fitted blue t-shirt that accentuates his broad shoulders and lean frame, paired with dark jeans that hug his long legs. His snowy hair remains tousled in that effortlessly stylish way, framing his strikingly handsome face.

It’s impossible to advert your eyes as he greets you with that familiarly confident smile curling upon his lips, and those vivid blue eyes, enchanting you with an intriguing glint.

“Hm, late again, I see,” Satoru teases, dramatically placing a hand over his heart as if wounded with an exaggerated sigh. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t show up. Here I was, thinking you might divorce me before we even get married—” he stops, lifting his brow as his gaze shifts to the small figure peeking out from behind your legs.

“Well, well, and who is this?”

Haru’s wide eyes are filled with curiosity and apprehension. She peeps out nervously, clutching her plushie’s worn, familiar fabric for comfort.

Satoru’s smile softens as he looks at the little girl, but a twinge of uncertainty tugs at him internally. Children were a mystery to him, their emotions and reactions unpredictable.

What should he say? How should he act?

A flicker of fear crosses his mind—what if he says the wrong thing and makes her cry?

Oh God…

The thought of dealing with a child's tears makes him feel out of his depth, a sensation he’s not accustomed to. Satoru finds himself in unfamiliar territory. He’s used to commanding rooms and negotiating high-stake deals, not interacting with shy children clutching stuffed toys.

But faking confidence has always worked in the business world, and he is determined to make a good impression now.

As you notice Haru’s uncertainty, you gently caress her head, delicately coaxing her out from behind your legs.

"It’s okay, sweetie. This is Mr. Gojo, can you say hi?"

There is an air about you—the gentle ease in your voice, the way you instinctively know how to comfort Haru. It stirs something within Satoru, something he can’t quite place.

All he knows it that now he really doesn’t want to fuck this up.

"I’m really sorry for bringing her along," you begin, tone earnest as you meet Satoru with an apologetic gaze. "I hope it’s okay. I just didn’t have anyone who could watch her today. But she’ll keep to herself during our meeting, I promise."

Satoru’s expression softens further as he looks at Haru, his uncertainty momentarily forgotten. She is so fragile, so docile. In her delicate features, he sees an uncanny resemblance to you—a small reflection of your strength and vulnerability intertwined.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” he reassures softly. Crouching down to her level, his toothy smile is warm and inviting. “Hi there, I’m Satoru. What’s your name?”

Haru looks up at you for reassurance, her small hand tightening around your leg. Encouraged by your nod, she turns back to Satoru and whispers tentatively—

“Haru.”

Satoru grins, captivated by the softness and delicacy of Haru's voice. Though he is uncertain how to connect with a child. His mind races—

What do kids like?

What should he say next?

While his thoughts scramble, a spark of an idea forms the moment he observes Haru clutching Pikachu.

“Nice to meet you, Haru. Do you like Pokémon?”

Haru nods, her grip on the plushie relaxing slightly. There is a subtle warmth behind the apprehension in her eyes as she holds up her Pikachu toy to show Satoru.

“Yes, Pikachu.”

“Pikachu is pretty cool,” he lets out a contemplative hum as he tries to find common ground. A faint nostalgic smile plays on his features. “But you know, Digimon is even better. Have you ever heard of Agumon?”

Haru’s eyes widen with curiosity as she shakes her head, her interest clearly piqued.

Satoru’s inner child shines through—eyes sparkling with a genuine enthusiasm as his lips curl up into a grin. This is his chance to bridge the gap between them.

“Tell ya what, maybe we can watch some Digimon together sometime. How’s that sound?”

You feel Haru’s grip loosen on your leg. A faint smile touches her lips and a quiet giggle escapes as her initial shyness begins to slowly fade.

“Okay.”

There are many thoughts that come to your mind as you watch this interaction play out—the foremost being how unexpectedly gentle Satoru can be with kids. Something about him, that overconfident and sometimes arrogant man you’ve worked beside, feels different now. Almost likable.

Charming, even

But what you really can’t fathom the most is the image of a sophisticated billionaire engrossed in a kids’ cartoon. That concept alone is enough to make you suppress a laugh.

“You’re a fan of Digimon?” you raise an eyebrow.

Satoru stands up, brushing off his knees with a nonchalant shrug and a crooked smile.

“I used to watch it all the time growing up. Please, come in,” he ushers you inside the building, leading you down the grand hall.

Your breath hitches at the sight of the expansive foyer. The high ceiling, polished marble floors, and impressive chandelier casting a warm glow leave you speechless.

Following behind him, you find yourself studying Satoru’s confident strides—the movement of his back, his broad shoulders and the effortless air of authority he exudes. It’s a stark contrast to what you just witnessed moments ago with Haru.

But that alone makes him even more intriguing to you. Satoru can feel a bit like a wild card. Glimpses of tenderness hidden behind feigned aloofness—subtle playfulness followed by an exacting seriousness.

He keeps surprising you.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Digimon fan,” you remark as you follow behind him.

Satoru chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

“Guilty as charged.”

You can’t help but notice the way he avoids your gaze—is he perhaps being… bashful?

Oh, this is rich.

You really would need an abundance of limbs to count on your hands the amount of times Satoru has given you shit—making your life a daily torture is his specialty after all. Perhaps that is why you couldn’t resist letting this opportunity pass up.

“Next thing you’ll tell me is that you have a secret stash of Digimon cards somewhere,” you snort.

Satoru lets out a contemplative hum.

“Well, I did have a pretty impressive collection back in the day. Who knows, maybe I still have them tucked away in a drawer somewhere.”

“Seriously?” you are unable to hide the amusement in your voice. “You, with a collection of Digimon cards? That’s something I’d pay to see.”

He rolls his eyes with a pout tugging on his lips.

“You’re enjoying this too much. Maybe I’ll dig them out for you one day. But only if you’re nice.”

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Me, nice to you? That’s a tall order.”

A faint chuckle leaves Satoru’s lips as the spacious foyer transitions into a grand hallway. Haru skips beside you, glancing up at Satoru with a newfound admiration.

The moment you reach a large set of intricately carved wooden doors, he pauses, turning to you with a reassuring smile before pushing them open.

Inside, a cozy yet sophisticated study awaits—shelves lined with books and a large mahogany desk dominating the room.

“Yo, Suguru,” he waves flippantly, “this is y/n and her daughter, Haru.”

Your eyes are met with a man seated behind the desk—a calm and composed air about him. He is strikingly beautiful, raven hair tied back into a bun with louse tousles framing his face. As he looks up from a stack of papers, his sharp yet gentle eyes focus on you and Haru. He rises, extending a hand with a polite smile.

“Pleasure to meet you both. I’m Suguru Geto.”

“Nice to meet you as well,” you shake his hand with a subtle nod.

The presence of another stranger causes Haru’s shyness to return as she hides behind your legs again—you kneel down, smoothing her hair gently.

“Haru,” you pull out a small bag of her favorite toys from your duffle bag, “why don’t you take a seat over there and play with your toys while Mommy talks with Mr. Gojo and Mr. Geto?”

With a light nod, Haru takes the bag and settles into a comfortable armchair in the corner of the room—spreading out her treasures with a look of concentration.

You take a seat across from Suguru, with Satoru sinking into the chair beside you—posture relaxed and seemingly indifferent.

“Alright, let’s get down to business,” Suguru leans forward, “I’ve drafted the marriage contract based on the discussions I’ve had with Satoru. I’ll walk you through the main points.”

Referencing the document upon the desk, he begins.

“Firstly, as you both know, the purpose of this marriage is strictly business-related with no romantic implications. Both parties agree to maintain the appearance of a committed relationship in public and professional settings.”

Okay, easy—right?

You nod, but in the corner of your eye you can see Satoru lounging back in his chair. The mild disinterest on his face and the nonchalant way he twirls a pen between his fingers makes you grit your teeth.

He carries a casual attitude—one you shouldn’t be surprised with at this point because it’s the same infuriating aura he brings to every business meeting. But in this case, it’s a stark contrast to the gravity of this conversation. Here you are, discussing marriage and he’s sitting here as if you’re determining what to eat for lunch.

Yup, nothing’s changed. He still aggravates the hell out of you.

“Next, the duration of the marriage is set for one year, starting from the date of signing,” Suguru continues. “There are provisions for extending or terminating the marriage early, should both parties agree.”

You absorb every word as you listen intently, but Satoru seems to be in his own world. It takes all your self-control not to roll your eyes as you catch him leaning back further into his chair, now balancing it on two legs. He taps his pen against his lip thoughtfully—an indifferent expression plastered across his face.

Is he even listening?

Here you are, about to commit to a fake marriage for the sake of your job and your daughter, and Satoru looks like a bored child.

You shoot him a sideways glance, silently willing him to take this more seriously, but the moment he catches your eye he simply offers a lazy wink, making your blood boil even more.

Suguru, unfazed by Satoru's demeanor, continues outlining the contract.

“The financial arrangements are next…Satoru will include a monthly allowance to you, y/n, to cover personal and household expenses. Both parties will maintain separate bank accounts, and any joint financial decisions require mutual consent.”

You blink in surprise. A monthly allowance?

Though you had asked Satoru to cover child care, you weren’t expecting this level of financial support. Isn’t that a bit excessive?

“Wait, what?” you blurt out, unable to hide your astonishment. “A monthly allowance? For personal and household expenses?”

Satoru’s chair drops back onto all four legs with a soft thud as he leans forward, finally showing a hint of interest. He raises an eyebrow at your reaction, a lazy smile curling his lips.

“We wouldn’t want you or Haru to struggle, now, would we?”

His words sound almost considerate, but it’s the casual way he says them that makes you question his sincerity.

“Some might see you being my secretary as a conflict of interest now. You’ll still work beside me, but I can’t give you a formal salary for that role. Doing it this way ensures that all you have to worry about is playing your part. Besides,” he adds, a hint of amusement creeping back into his voice, “what kind of husband would I be if I didn’t support my wife?”

Raising an eyebrow, you shoot him a wary look, trying to gauge his true intentions. It makes sense… but is he mocking you, or is this his way of showing genuine concern? With Satoru, it’s always hard to tell.

Suguru clears his throat, drawing your attention back to the contract.

“Moving on to the living arrangements, you will both reside in the marital home here.”

Satoru interrupts, tone almost too nonchalant as he leans back in his chair and lazily stretches, “I’ve already arranged for a moving company to pack your things in a few days. They’ll handle everything.”

You blink, the suddenness of it all sinking in.

“Huh?”

“Problem, sweetheart?”

“I... I didn’t realize I’d be moving in so… soon. What about my apartment? I have a lease, and breaking it will incur a penalty.”

He waves off your concern with a dismissive hand, leaning back further with hands casually behind his head.

“I’ll pay it. Consider it handled. No point in you staying there when you’re supposed to be living here.”

Your eyes widen, taken aback by his insouciant dismissal of what, to you, is a significant expense.

“You’re sure?”

“Of course. We need to make this look legitimate, and that means living together. Consider it part of the arrangement.”

To him, solving problems with money seamed effortless.

To you, this isn’t just a contract; it’s a complete upheaval of your life.

You’re starting to really feel the difference in your two worlds.

The abruptness is a bit overwhelming, and yet, Satoru seems to handle it with the same ease he applies to all his business dealings.

It’s a bit unnerving. It’s not that you aren’t grateful, but you can’t help but wonder…does he pity you? See you as a charity act?

Suguru, sensing your hesitation, interjects your thoughts with a soothing tone,

“It’s important for appearances that you both share a residence. It solidifies the arrangement in the eyes of your colleagues and the public.”

You take a deep breath, nodding again. “Right, I understand.”

Suguru nods, making a note on the document.

“Good. Now, let’s move on to the responsibilities and obligations. You’re both expected to attend public and social functions, maintaining the façade of a loving marriage.”

Satoru who still remains leaned in his chair, now has his head tilted back, looking up towards the ceiling.

"Oh, and by the way," he begins, eyes flicking to you while his posture remains unmoved, "we'll be getting married at the courthouse tomorrow to make things official on paper. Our public ceremony will be a grand affair, but it will come later to keep the media satisfied and appease everyone."

Tomorrow?

You give a hesitant nod, absorbing the rapid pace at which your life is changing.

“Alright…tomorrow.”

Suguru flips to the next page, “In terms of termination, either party can initiate it with a 30-day notice. Grounds for early termination include breach of contract or mutual consent. Upon termination, Satoru will provide a one-time settlement payment to you, y/n.”

You blink as Suguru pushes the contract towards you, the settlement amount highlighted in bold. Did Satoru add a few extra zeros by mistake? That number can’t be correct, right?

You glance up at Satoru, who is now inspecting his nails with a look of utter boredom.

“Is this…correct?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru looks up, meeting your eyes with a casual shrug.

“Yeah, it’s correct. Consider it a thank you for playing along.”

You shake your head slightly, trying to wrap your mind around the figure. This settlement could change your life, secure Haru’s future, and give you the stability you’ve been desperately seeking.

You could pay off your medical bills for the childbirth, could go back to school. Hell, you could be free of Naoya, you wouldn’t need him or his money.

You narrow your eyes, suspicious of his sudden generosity.

"And what’s the catch?”

Satoru chuckles, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he leans forward, resting his chin in his hand.

"Come on now, sweetheart. Just think of it as me taking care of my...business partner."

Suguru clears his throat, glancing between the two of you.

“Well, there is one additional detail, y/n. The settlement is contingent on maintaining a favorable public image. Any actions or behaviors that damage Satoru’s reputation would result in the forfeiture of all financial support and settlement funds.”

You blink, the implications dawning on you. Ah, of course there would be a condition—you knew better than to think he was just being generous.

“So… I’m responsible for upholding your image? What does that even mean?”

Satoru’s crooked grin widens.

“It means no scandals, no controversies. You play the part of the perfect spouse, attend events, smile for the cameras, and keep any...personal indiscretions out of the spotlight. Simple enough, right?”

Your stomach churns as you realize the depth of his control—you thought you were escaping Naoya’s grasp, but it seems control is still a prevalent force in your life.

This isn’t just a marriage of convenience; it’s a binding agreement that keeps you in line with his public persona, ensuring that any slip-up on your part will have dire financial consequences.

A part of you can’t blame him, though. It makes sense for him to take extra precautions. The Gojos have always been in the public eye, and there have been countless rumors about Satoru's refusal to settle down.

“What if something happens that’s out of my control? What if someone tries to smear my name?”

Satoru’s eyes harden slightly, though his smile remains.

“We’ll handle that on a case-by-case basis. But let’s just say I have ways of managing the media. You just need to play your part, nothing more.”

The calculated control in his tone, juxtaposed with his unwavering smile, makes your skin prickle with unease. The room feels suddenly colder, and a knot tightens in your stomach. You thought you were stepping into a partnership, but now it feels like a performance where one wrong move could cost you dearly.

Suguru interjects, his tone professional.

“This clause is essential for protecting both your interests and Satoru’s. Maintaining a positive public image is crucial for the success of this arrangement and for avoiding any complications that could arise from negative publicity.”

You take a deep breath—this was a gamble. The settlement would secure Haru’s future, your future, but your every move would be scrutinized, and any misstep could strip away the stability you desperately needed.

Your eyes wander to Haru, quietly and innocently playing with her toys. For her sake, you were willing to play Satoru’s game, even if it meant living under the constant pressure of his expectations.

“Alright,” you say firmly. “I agree to the terms.”

Satoru’s eyes flicker with satisfaction and Suguru leans forward sliding a pen towards you both.

“Good. If you both agree to these terms, we can proceed with the signing.”

You observe Satoru as he reaches for the pen—he is back to that usual air of nonchalance; it is almost unsettling. He signs the document with a flourish, barely glancing at the terms, and you envy his composure.

When he hands you the pen, meeting your eyes with a confident smile, you hesitate for a second—then, with a determined snatch, you take the pen from his delicate hand.

Holding your breath, you press the pen to paper and sign your name in one fell swoop. Each stroke of the pen feels heavy, final, but also strangely empowering.

No turning back now.

ꨄ︎

The courthouse ceremony was as brief and impersonal as you expected.

Something about Haru witnessing you legally enter into a fake marriage just didn’t feel right—so you opted to leave her with Satoru’s nanny.

Standing in front of the judge, reciting vows, and signing the official documents felt more like a business transaction than a wedding.

Glancing at Satoru, you couldn't help but feel a bit solemn as you observed him, his expression as indifferent as ever.

This wasn't the fairy tale wedding you once dreamed of. There was no crowd, no rings, no romantic gestures—just a legal agreement with a pen on paper, binding you to him for the next year.

But then again, you knew that coming into this—it was never about romance or dreams; it was about survival and securing a future for Haru.

It was over as quickly as it began—just like that, the judge declared you husband and wife, immediately leaving you alone with Satoru right after.

Noticing your serious expression, Satoru leans in slightly as you gather the official documents.

"You look like you're attending a funeral, not a wedding Mrs. Gojo," his voice drips with playful mockery.

Hearing him call you ‘Mrs. Gojo’ sends a shiver down your spine. That was going to take some getting used to.

“And you look like you’re at a board meeting, not your wedding, Mr. Gojo,” you retort, unable to hide the underlying bite in your voice as your fingers shuffle through the pages.

A deep chuckle reverberates through the otherwise solemn atmosphere. Once you tuck the documents under your arm, you begin to make your way towards the exit. Satoru immediately falls into step beside you.

“Touché. But really, lighten up sweetheart. Gonna need to work harder to convince everyone you’re head over heels in love with me,” there’s a playful challenge in his voice.

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh.

“Well, forgive me for not swooning over this magical moment. You know, this isn't exactly how I pictured my wedding day," you mutter, trying to mask the internal melancholy whirling within you.

When you reach for the door, Satoru beats you to it, holding it open with a flourish.

"Oh? And how did you picture it?” he raises an eyebrow as his eyes gleam in amusement, “Let me guess, lots of flowers, a big white dress, and some poor guy professing his undying love for you?"

Okay, screw him. He was really not making this any better. You feel the heat rise to your face as a scoff escapes your lips—the only response you will give him.

Brushing past him, your heels click against the polished floors through the marble halls of the courthouse. As you glance to the tall, ornate windows lining the corridor, the sunlight streams through, casting intricate patterns.

“Hmm, think I guessed right,” he chuckles as he saunters after you.

“And what if you did?” you snap, voice echoing in the grand space. “Is it so weird for me to want a normal family for my daughter?”

The teasing glint in his eyes dim as his expression softens slightly. Once you reach the elevator, Satoru presses the button—the two of you wait in an awkward silence.

The moment the elevator door slides open, you both step inside, the quiet hum of the machinery enveloping you.

“No, it’s not weird. It’s just... different from what I’ve ever thought about,” he says while he presses the button to the lobby.

You huff, crossing your arms as you lean against the back of the elevator.

“What, Mr. Perfect never thought about settling down?”

Satoru's gaze drifts for a moment as he considers your question. The elevator begins its descent, the soft whirl filling the silence.

“Honestly? No, I never did. My father used to pressure me about it all the time. Wanted me to marry someone who could... 'enhance' our family’s status.” He was contemplative, and the echoes of old frustrations are clear in his voice.

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden openness.

The rumors about Satoru had always painted him as a carefree bachelor, uninterested in the constraints of marriage.

Some said he was too focused on his career, while others whispered that he enjoyed his freedom too much to settle down. There were even speculations that he had a hidden lover, or perhaps he was waiting for the perfect match to come along, someone who could stand by his side both in business and in life.

“…and you never found anyone who fit the bill?”

He chuckles, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“Plenty of candidates. None that I wanted to spend my life with. Plus, all those ‘suitable matches’ were just women trying to get their hands on the Gojo fortune. Most people just see the money and power. They don't see the person behind it.”

The vulnerability in his eyes is fleeting, and you realize that his father’s expectations must have weighed heavily on him. The pressure to find someone was not about love or companionship—it was about maintaining an image, a legacy. In a way, you both have been victims to control your entire lives.

As the depth of his frustrations become more apparent, you feel a pang of sympathy. It’s enough to make you wonder about the real Satoru. The elevator continues its descent, and you find yourself lingering on his words.

“That sounds... difficult. So why did you go through with this then? With me?”

His gaze softens; his expression thoughtful as he watches the numbers descending the floor levels. He tilts his head slightly, meeting your gaze with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Because you’re different. You didn’t come to me looking for wealth or status. You needed help, and I needed a solution. It’s honest, in a way. No hidden agendas, no false pretenses.”

A nervous flutter dances in your stomach, your fingers fidgeting with the folder of documents in your hands. The softness in his words catch you off guard, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact.

A small, rueful smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“In a world where everyone wants something from me, I find your straightforwardness refreshing.”

Your heart skips as a warm blush creeps up your cheeks.

“I never thought you’d see it that way. I just... I wanted to do what was best for Haru.”

“And that’s what makes you different,” he replies softly. “You’re doing this for her, not for yourself. That’s why I agreed to this. Because I believe you’re sincere.”

The elevator chimes softly as it reaches the ground floor and the doors slide open to reveal the bustling courthouse lobby.

The weight of the conversation settles between you, a rare moment of vulnerability that made you see Satoru in a new light—a glimpse into his inner world.

The moment you near the courthouse door, you and Satoru push it open in an attempt to exit, but are immediately greeted by a barrage of flashing cameras and shouted questions. Paparazzi swarm around you, seeming to have materialized out of nowhere—how did they even know where to find you both?

Satoru, ever the master of public appearances, wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. His touch is warm and firm, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart through his suit.

The sensation of his hand resting securely on your hip sends a tingle through your body, a fluttering in your stomach—you realize now that this is the first time he has touched you.

“Smile for the cameras, Mrs. Gojo,” he whispers into your ear, breath tickling your skin.

You blink, heat rising to your face as you’re momentarily caught off guard by the sudden display of affection. But you quickly compose yourself, remembering the role you have to play.

Leaning into him slightly, you offer a shy smile to the cameras. The flashes intensify and the questions grow louder.

“Mr. Gojo why are you in a courthouse?”

“Mr. Gojo, what is the status of Gojo Corporation?”

“Who is this woman Mr. Gojo?”

“What is your statement on your father’s passing?”

As the paparazzi continue to snap photos and shout questions, Satoru leans down and presses a quick, gentle kiss to your temple. His lips were soft, and the warmth of his breath burned your skin. The gesture, though small, sends a shiver down your spine.

It was all for show, you reminded yourself. Just part of the act.

Yet, the unexpected intimacy lingered, making it hard to ignore the way your heart raced at his touch.

Satoru’s kiss had worked perfectly, fueling the media frenzy. The paparazzi went wild at the tender action—camera flashes intensifying and voices growing louder. They call out more questions, desperate to capture every angle of the seemingly affectionate moment. You feel the eyes of the crowd boring into you.

“Let’s get out of here,” Satoru murmurs, voice low and soothing amidst the chaos.

He reaches out, hand warm and firm as he interlocks his fingers with yours, gently guiding you through the throng of reporters towards the waiting car. His other arm subtly shields you from the crowd.

As you finally break free from the mass of flashing cameras and shouting voices, you slide into the car, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as Satoru slides beside you immediately after.

Glancing back at the courthouse, the reality of your new life begins to sink in. Once the car pulls away, a breath escapes you—one you didn’t realize you had been holding in.

“That was... intense.”

Satoru chuckles, arm resting behind your shoulder. He tilts his head slightly, allowing a few tousles of white hair to fall into his eyes. Through the soft strands, his gaze meets yours, a mix of amusement and seriousness dancing in his striking blue eyes.

“Welcome to my world," he murmurs. "Better get used to it, sweetheart. This is just the beginning.”

ꨄ︎

The following day, a moving company arrived at your apartment as promised—they packed up your belongings with swift efficiency, leaving you feeling like a spectator in your own life.

Watching your life be boxed up and loaded into trucks was bittersweet—as your small apartment, with its familiar creaks and cracks, had been your safe haven.

Everything was arranged, down to the smallest detail. By mid-afternoon, you found yourself standing in the grand foyer of Satoru’s mansion once again, this time with all your worldly possessions.

Haru, wide-eyed and excited, clung to your side, her tiny fingers wrapped around your hand.

"Welcome to your new home," Satoru says with a grin.

It felt more like stepping into a palace than a home.

He reaches down and grabs one of your suitcases, lifting it effortlessly,

"Let me show you to our room."

You feel your face heat up instantly.

"Our room?" you stammer. "Why would we need to share a room when no one is here to watch this charade?"

Satoru's grin widens, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

"Relax, I'm just teasing you. You have your own room. I just wanted to see your reaction."

You shoot him a glare, feeling a mix of relief and annoyance.

“You're impossible," you mutter, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.

He chuckles, leading you up the grand staircase, and Haru follows closely, her eyes darting around in awe at the luxurious decor. The polished marble steps feel cool underneath you, and the ornate banisters gleam under the soft lighting.

"Come on, let me show you around." Satoru says as he leads the way down a long corridor.

The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries and framed artwork, each piece more exquisite than the last.

Eventually, Satoru stops in front of a set of double doors, turning to you with a small, satisfied smile.

"Here we are."

He pushes them open to reveal a spacious bedroom. The room beautifully furnished, with a large bed, elegant drapes, and a balcony overlooking the manicured gardens below.

"This is your room," he announces, setting your suitcase down gently.

"Wow," you breathe.

It feels a bit overwhelming the moment you step foot inside. Haru, on the other hand, darts past you, exploring every nook and cranny with a delighted giggle. It was easily twice the size of your old apartment.

"This is beautiful... and a lot."

Satoru leans against the doorframe, arms casually crossing over his chest.

The soft light from the chandelier above casts a gentle glow on his features, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the curve of his lips. His white hair, tousled just enough to seem effortlessly stylish, frames his face perfectly.

"Only the best for my... business partner," he says, tone light yet carrying a hint of something deeper.

You offer a simple, "Thanks," but your voice is softer than you intended. Your eyes betray you, lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary.

Satoru's eyes hold yours with a softness that catches you off guard—a striking shade of blue that seems almost ethereal. In that moment, you couldn't help but notice the intensity and warmth in his gaze, it’s almost tender, making you feel like anything but just a ‘business partner’.

Was he always this beautiful?

You can’t help but wonder, feeling a warmth spread through you as the silence stretches on. The moment feels strangely intimate, a connection forming that neither of you expected.

Crap. What are you thinking?

Haru’s giggle breaks the spell as she jumps on your bed.

"Oh, and just so you know," he adds with a playful glint in his eye, "my room is right next door. We share the bathroom, so try not to hog all the hot water."

You blink, surprised. "We have to share a bathroom?"

Curiosity getting the better of you, you open the bathroom door and peer inside.

It was equally impressive, with a large tub and walk-in shower, all in pristine condition. The fixtures gleam, and the marble countertop adds a touch of luxury. There was another door leading directly to Satoru’s room, a constant reminder of his proximity.

"Yep. Just think of it as our first test of marital bliss. Can we survive sharing a bathroom?" Satoru's voice was suddenly closer.

You turn to find him standing right behind you, having moved from his previous spot at the doorframe. The idea of sharing such a personal space with him was a bit unnerving. An awkwardly intimate setup for such a detached relationship, but you didn't have much of a choice.

"…I suppose I'll manage.”

Satoru laughs softly.

"That's the spirit. And don't worry, Haru's room is right across from us. She's got the best room in the house actually," he adds, tilting his head to the side as a cue for you to follow him.

Haru trails excitedly behind as you walk through the luxurious hallway, her giggles echo off the walls. Opening the door, you peek inside and are struck by the sheer extravagance of it.

The room was a child’s dream—decorated in soft pastel colors, with a canopy bed draped in delicate lace, plush toys neatly arranged on shelves, and even a small play area complete with a dollhouse and a set of building blocks. The walls were adorned with whimsical murals of fairies and woodland creatures, creating a magical atmosphere that seemed straight out of a storybook.

Haru's delighted squeals bring a smile to your face, easing the last of your worries.

It was clear that Satoru had spared no expense in making her feel welcome. Each detail spoke of thoughtfulness and care, from the cozy reading nook to the vibrant rainbow-colored rug that added a playful touch to the room. How on earth did he pull all this off so quickly?

“Wow, look, Mama!” she exclaims, her eyes lighting up with joy, running inside to inspect her new haven.

A sense of relief washes over you as a tender smile forms upon your lips. At least Haru would be happy here. The sight of her so animated and cheerful makes the transition a bit easier to bear. Satoru stands beside you.

“I wanted her to feel at home," he says softly, eyes reflecting a rare sincerity.

“You've done more than that. She's ecstatic," you reply, watching Haru dive into a pile of stuffed animals with a gleeful laugh.

Satoru clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, the gesture uncharacteristically awkward. He glances at the clock on the wall, as if searching for an excuse to end the moment.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," his tone is gentle and almost hesitant. "Let me know if you need anything. Dinner will be ready soon, see you down there?”

His usual confidence is somewhat muted—you wonder, is it you? Haru?

"Yeah,” you nod, “I’m going to put a few of my things away and then we’ll meet you downstairs."

“Right. Take your time. There's no rush."

You can’t help but replay the interaction in your mind as you unpack the essentials from your suitcase. The awkwardness between you and Satoru would pass, you hope. For now, it was enough to know that Haru is happy and safe.

Haru’s laughter echoes from her room, a sound that brings a smile to your face. She seemed to be adjusting much faster than expected, her innocent joy undiminished by the upheaval.

And to you, her laughter solidified it—marrying Satoru, this was the right call.

ꨄ︎

The past few days living with Satoru had been a whirlwind of adjustments—it wasn’t without its challenges. The mansion, with its sprawling rooms and luxurious decor, is more like a museum than a home.

The sheer size makes you feel small and out of place at times, and the constant presence of staff make it difficult to find a moment of privacy.

Satoru, however, had been surprisingly considerate. He’s a constant reminder of the delicate balance you need to maintain—attentive yet reserved, playful yet serious, a paradox that kept you on edge.

Your interactions with Satoru had settled into a routine of polite, if somewhat distant, cohabitation. There were moments of unexpected tenderness, like when he had found you struggling to open a jar in the kitchen and had stepped in to help with a playful grin.

Another time, you had been overwhelmed while trying to assemble a new toy for Haru, and Satoru had quietly taken a seat beside you, helping to figure out the instructions without a word.

Yet despite these moments, there was always an underlying tension, a reminder of the unusual circumstances that had brought you together.

As the days passed, the impending charity gala loomed larger in your mind—the first public event you would attend together as a married couple.

Satoru had taken the time to sit down with you and discuss how you would present yourselves, a task that seemed daunting but necessary.

You agreed on the basics: stay close, exchange subtle touches, and share occasional whispers to create an air of intimacy. The plan was straightforward, but the execution would be another matter entirely.

He emphasized the importance of appearing united, offering tips on how to handle the media and the probing questions that were sure to come. His confidence and ease in handling the media was something you were learning to lean on, though the pressure of maintaining the charade weighed heavily on you.

“What about Haru?” you asked, concern evident in your voice.

“We’ll leave her out of the spotlight,” Satoru replied gently. “I don’t want to overwhelm her. She takes no part in this agreement beyond being your daughter. She’ll stay here with the nanny during the event.”

Amidst all this, your phone had been buzzing constantly with missed calls from Naoya. You hadn't answered any of them—maybe you should just call off the court case?

You did just go through a life changing event, marriage, and that often interferes with the legal process anyways. The judge would need to take into consideration your new source of income for the child support payments.

Honestly, you don’t need Naoya’s support anymore.

You’ll take care of that after the gala though—right now you already have too much on your plate, spending hours with Satoru, fabricating shared experiences and finding common ground to make your relationship believable.

The task of memorizing details about his likes and dislikes, his habits, and his quirks was daunting, but you found yourself surprised at the small details you were beginning to remember about him—the way he took his coffee, his favorite late-night snack, the way his eyes crinkled just slightly when he found something genuinely funny, or how he would absentmindedly run a hand through his tousled white hair when deep in thought.

As the days slipped by in a blur of preparations and rehearsed smiles, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this carefully constructed façade was starting to take on a life of its own. Each shared glance and each moment of unexpected kindness blurred the lines between reality and pretense, leaving you wondering just how deep this charade would go.

ꨄ︎

Standing in front of your bathroom mirror, you adjust the luxurious dress Satoru had picked out for you. A deep, elegant blue fabric clings to your curves in all the right places, and the V-shaped open back that rests above your hips adds a touch of allure.

Loose cascading waves frame your face perfectly, and the professional makeup artist gave you a look that is both subtle and glamorous, enhancing your features in a way the felt natural yet striking.

You barely recognize yourself.

The transformation was astonishing, turning you from a frazzled single mother into a vision of sophistication and grace.

Was it too much? You feel out of sorts, like you’re wearing someone else's skin. The elegant image in the mirror is both thrilling and unnerving.

As you try to steady your racing heart, a knock on the bathroom door makes you jump slightly—Satoru’s door.

“Y/n you ready?” his voice calls out.

With a deep breath, you take one last look in the mirror. As you open the door, Satoru’s frame leans casually against the entryway.

The sleek black tuxedo he is adorned in highlights his broad shoulder and lean frame. His white hair is perfectly styled, contrasting sharply with the dark fabric.

He meets you with a stunned silence—eyes widening slightly as he takes you in. The cool blue of his irises seem more vibrant, gleaming with anticipation as they trace over your form.

You had never seen his eyes linger across your figure like this before—the intensity of his gaze makes your stomach flutter. Feeling a bit self-conscious, you fear what will come out of his mouth.

Does he think it’s too much?

“Wow,” he breathes, voice almost reverent. “You look... stunning.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks at his unexpected compliment, and you find yourself unable to meet his gaze.

"Thank you," you say softly, smoothing down the fabric of your dress.

Satoru steps closer, eyes locked on you. He reaches out and gently lifts your chin, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

“Seriously, you look amazing. I knew the dress would look good on you, but this... you’re going to be the star of the gala,” a slow smile spreads across his lips. “Ready to knock them dead?”

You nod, trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in your stomach.

“As ready as I’ll ever be…hopefully I can live up to the part.”

“You will,” offering you his arm, he adds, “Just be yourself, and stay by my side, we’re in this together."

ꨄ︎

The ride to the gala is filled with a comfortable silence.

The city lights blur outside the window as the car smoothly navigates through the streets. You find yourself stealing glances at Satoru, admiring the way his profile looks in the dim light.

Strange.

The usually insufferable man seemed different tonight—steadfast, dependable, almost... comforting? Perhaps it’s the nerves.

His arm rests casually behind you, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder, and you’re surprised yourself how it does not bother you—in fact, it’s actually quite soothing.

Once you arrive, the grand ballroom is a stunning sight. Chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, casting a soft, golden glow over the elegantly dressed crowd.

The room is filled with the city’s elite—a sea of luxurious gowns and tailored suits mingling and exchanging pleasantries. The sight of you and Satoru together was enough to turn heads, drawing curious and admiring glances.

But the sheer number of people, the pressure of playing your part, and the countless eyes watching your every move—it’s all a bit overwhelming. You really felt out of place here.

Sensing your unease, Satoru leans in close, breath warm against your ear.

“Remember, just follow my lead.”

Guiding you with ease, his hand rests lightly on the small of your back as you voyage through the attendees—the warm gentle touch is electric against your bare skin.

Your eyes skim through the herd of people and land on a waiter balancing a tray of champagne glasses. Perhaps a drink would ease your nerves? You don’t hesitate to grab a glass as you navigate the crowd.

Satoru, ever the socialite, seamlessly traverses the room, introducing you to important figures and engaging in small talk that you struggle to follow.

Discussions ranged from market trends and corporate mergers, to the latest charity galas and art exhibitions. Trying to keep up, you nod and smile at the appropriate moments.

It’s clear that Satoru is in his element—his charm, effortless. You find yourself admiring how easy he makes it all look.

As you cling to him, the pride in his eyes when he looks at you makes you feel like you belong, even if you are just playing a part in this elaborate charade.

The evening flowed smoothly enough, with your glass of champagne acting as a steady companion. The warmth of the alcohol helps you mingle with guests, exchange polite conversations, and stay close to Satoru, all as planned. But each interaction was a delicate dance—your smiles and nods masking the nerves simmering beneath the surface.

Honestly, your mind was elsewhere—there is an undercurrent of anxiety as you anticipate Satoru’s announcement on stage, where he would publicly acknowledge your marriage during his donation speech.

When the moment you had been dreading finally arrives, you settle into a chair near the front, heart pounding in your chest.

Satoru takes the stage with a natural grace, and as the spotlight illuminates his striking figure, his presence commands the attention of everyone in the room.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he begins, his voice resonating with a confident authority. “I want to thank you all for being here tonight. Your generosity and support make events like this possible.”

His words flow smoothly as he speaks eloquently about the cause and significance of the charity, each sentence perfectly crafted to engage and inspire—you marveled at his ability to enthrall people.

Pressing your champagne glass to your lips, you desperately hope the cool liquid can help to steady your nerves a bit more.

Then, the moment came.

“I will be donating ten million dollars to this charity,” Satoru announces, his voice carrying a conviction.

The amount causes a ripple of excitement and murmurs to spread through the crowd—you nearly choked on your champagne in shock.

Ten million?

You couldn’t even fathom having that much money, let alone donating it. The magnitude of Satoru’s status is staggering.

A smile tugs at Satoru’s lips—a genuine warmth mingling with the mischievous glint in his eyes. He pauses, letting the impact of his words settle, then lifts a finger to tap his chin contemplatively, as if he just remembered something.

“Or should I say, we will be donating—me and my lovely wife.”

Satoru gestures in your direction as a spotlight beams upon you. The crowd erupts into an enthusiastic applause, causing your heart to race the moment all eyes instantly turn to you.

There is a rush of heat that rises to your cheeks, mixing with the warmth of the alcohol. The weight of the crowd’s gaze makes your vision a bit blurry.

Beckoning you to join him on stage, Satoru extends his hand and offers a comforting smile. Though, the moment you stand, the room spins slightly—perhaps it’s from the champagne, or perhaps it’s the sheer pressure.

You can’t fuck this up.

With as much grace as you can muster, you make your way to the platform.

Satoru wraps an arm around your waist the moment you are at his side, pulling you close and steadying your trembling figure. He looks down into your eyes with a genuine look of endearment.

“Everyone, please welcome my beautiful wife, y/n,” he says softly in the microphone, his voice filled with a gentle pride.

The applause swells, and you manage a smile, trying to focus on Satoru while ignoring the spotlight’s heat and the intense gazes of attendees.

Leaning in, his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, “You’re doing great.”

Despite the orchestrated nature of your relationship, in this moment, his genuine reassurance means everything. His presence is a steady anchor in the sea of faces and flashing cameras, the only thing holding you together right now.

When the applause dies down, Satoru continues his speech, the warmth of his hand remaining on your waist as his thumb traces soft circles.

You can barely focus on his words, the dizzying reality of where you’re standing feels both exhilarating and terrifying.

The moment Satoru’s speech concludes, the soft hum of conversation mingling and the delicate notes of the live orchestra begin to fill the air yet again. Satoru leads you off the stage, his hand never leaving your side.

Almost immediately after you descend to the floor, Satoru is approached by a business associate, his demeanor shifting effortlessly into that of a seasoned negotiator as they exchange discussions of market trends, potential collaborations, and strategic ventures.

Your heart is still pounding—public speaking was never your strong suit. Despite not needing to speak, being on that stage stirred something within you.

You recall a particularly disastrous presentation in college where you accidentally knocked over the projector, sending your notes flying across the room. The laughter from the audience still haunts you, and since then, you’ve always dreaded being the center of attention.

With Satoru engrossed in conversation, you seize the opportunity to make your way to the bar—seeking a moment of reprieve. Another drink wouldn’t hurt, right?

The gleaming rows of crystal glasses and various bottles of wine and spirits catch your eye. You scan the selection, your gaze lingering on a particularly rich, deep red wine.

Deciding it’s exactly what you need to steady your nerves, you signal the bartender and opt for a glass of the robust vintage, savoring the thought of its smooth, calming flavor.

One glass turned into two—your nerves finally beginning to settle as the soothing effects of the alcohol take over your senses.

Realizing you’ve been away from Satoru for quite some time, you prepare to rejoin him—but just as you start to rise, a familiar, unwelcome voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Well, well, look who we have here,” Naoya sneers, leaning against the bar beside you, a glass of scotch swirling in his hand. “Didn’t expect to see you here, mingling with the high society.”

A chill runs down your spine and you heart drops. No amount of alcohol could have prepared you for this moment.

“Naoya,” you stiffen, clutching your wine glass tighter. “What are you doing here?”

He takes a swig of his scotch, emptying the glass and placing it down on the counter with a loud clink. Leaning closer into your space, his eyes narrow—a cold, cynical stare boring into you.

“I could ask you the same thing. This doesn’t seem like your usual scene. What’s your angle?”

Your breath quickens and you feel your pulse hammering in your chest. Adverting your gaze, your fingers brush against the rim of your wine glass.

“I’m sure you heard, I’m here with my husband, if you must know. Not that it’s any of your business.”

The sneer he meets you with makes the room suddenly feel smaller, as if his presence is suffocating you.

“Husband, huh?” his eyes rake over you with contempt suspicion, “Quite the leap from where you were a few weeks ago. Is this some kind of game to you?”

Summoning your courage, you straighten your back and meet his gaze head-on.

“Not a game, Naoya. It’s called moving on. You should try it sometime. My life is no longer any of your concern.”

Taking a step closer, he looms over you—his voice lowering to a menacing whisper.

“I don’t buy it. This whole charade… you think I don’t know what you’re trying to pull?”

For a moment, you are frozen in place, the fear and control Naoya exerts paralyzing you. Your mind races, the implications of his words sinking in.

What if he exposes you?

What if this carefully constructed facade comes crashing down?

Before you can respond, you feel an arm slip around your waist, pulling you with practiced ease out of Naoya’s bubble and right beside Satoru.

“There you are, darling. Everything alright?”

His voice is smooth and warm, and his gaze flicks between you and Naoya, narrowing as he surveys the situation. The look on your face unsettles him—something feels off.

Naoya straightens himself, leaning against the bar with a supercilious smirk as he crosses his arms.

“Just catching up with an old friend. No harm in that, right?”

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” Satoru’s tone was light but laced with an underlying steel, “I’m y/n’s husband, Satoru Gojo.”

A scoff escapes Naoya as his eyes flash with irritation, but an unnerving smile remains upon his lips.

“Yes, I’ve heard. You certainly move fast, don’t you, y/n?”

Naoya can see right through you—you fell a flash of panic. Turning to Satoru, your eyes meet his with a silent plea for support. His expression softens and he gives you a reassuring nod while tightening his grip upon your waist.

“Well, when you know, you know,” Satoru says with a charming smile, “and we knew.”

Naoya snickers, running his hand through his hair in disbelief.

“Come on y/n. How did someone like you end up with someone like him? Seems... unlikely. You don’t belong here.”

Heat rises to your face and the sudden urge to shrink away overwhelms you—your heart dropping at the sting of Naoya’s words.

Suddenly, Satoru steps closer, creating a protective barrier between you and Naoya—the playful glint in his eyes gone, replaced with a cold, steely determination.

“Watch your mouth, you don’t get to talk to my wife like that.”

“I’m just stating the obvious,” Naoya shrugs, meeting Satoru’s glare with an indifference as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “She’s out of her league here.”

Satoru’s jaw tightens, his voice low and dangerously calm.

“If you think she’s out of her league, then you clearly don’t know her at all. You’re out of line. Y/n belongs here more than anyone. So, unless you have something worthwhile to say, I suggest you move along.”

“Is that so?” Naoya raises an eyebrow. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical. After all, you’ve always been a bit of a lone wolf, Satoru Gojo.”

Panic seizes you as Naoya’s observation hangs in the air. The last thing you need is for him to start spreading rumors or causing trouble. You realize you have to do something, and fast. Your mind races, desperately searching for a way to convince Naoya of your authenticity.

Summoning all the courage you can muster, you step forward, threading your arms around Satoru’s neck as you rest your forehead against his own. Your words are addressed to Naoya, but your eyes remain on Satoru the entire time, drawing strength from his steady gaze and the warmth of his touch.

“Satoru and I... we chose each other for reasons that go beyond what you see. We may have our differences, but we’re stronger together, and we have a connection that you can’t comprehend.”

Satoru’s eyes soften, reflecting a silent understanding and a shared resolve—his breath mingling with yours.

Feeling Naoya’s probing gaze, you know he won’t be easily convinced, and so, acting on impulse, you pull Satoru closer and crash your lips against his.

For a moment, Satoru seemed caught off guard. His eyes widened in surprise before they fluttered closed, his hands moving to rest on your hips. The world around you seemed to fade away as the kiss lingered, heat pooling in your stomach.

It was supposed to be a quick peck, just enough to sell the act. But the moment your lips met his, something shifted.

Perhaps you were emboldened by the alcohol, perhaps it was the need to be convincing, perhaps it was the way Satoru stood up for you—without thinking, you deepen the kiss, parting your lips and slipping your tongue into his mouth, making things more intimate than you originally intended.

You can feel Satoru tense for a moment, his surprise evident. But then, with a soft hum against your mouth he melts into the kiss, a hand moving to cup your face as he returns the intimacy with unexpected fervor—his other hand encircling around your waist, pulling you closer against him.

Your fingers thread through Satoru’s hair and the world around you seems to fade away—the only thing that mattered now was the heat radiating off of Satoru’s body, the warmth of his lips against yours, and the lingering sweet taste of the gala’s chocolate cake mingling with the wine on your tongue.

It was a moment that felt both incredibly real and utterly surreal.

When you finally pull back, you are both breathless. As you catch a flicker of something unreadable in Satoru’s half lidded eyes, for a brief moment, you forget about Naoya completely, about the act, about everything except the electric connection between you both.

Satoru's thumb gently caresses your cheek, his gaze softening.

Pulling yourself back to reality, you peer over to Naoya—his smug expression had vanished, replaced by a look of genuine surprise and irritation.

“As you can see, we’re very happy together,” you say sweetly, rubbing your nose against Satoru’s.

"Didn't think you were the type to move on so quickly," Naoya sneers.

A wave of exhilaration and embarrassment course through you as Naoya retreats back into the crowd. The kiss had done its job, but it had also left you with a lingering sense of uncertainty. Satoru’s touch is still warm on your skin—you can still taste him on your lips.

"You okay?" he asks softly, his concern genuine.

The question pulls you out of your thoughts, but his gaze does the opposite—your face flushes and it feels like your heart is going to pound out of your chest.

"Yeah. I... I just needed to convince him.."

Satoru studies you momentarily—knowing there is more to the story with Naoya. But he also knows now isn’t the time to pry.

He chuckles softly, his hand lingering on your waist.

“Well, I think you succeeded. That was... unexpected. You really went for it there,” he murmurs.

For a moment, it felt like you were playing a role, but the feelings stirring inside you were anything but fake.

"I'm sorry," you swallow hard, face flushing with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to..."

“I didn’t mind,” he interjects, thumb brushing against your lower lip, sending a shiver down your spine. “Just so you know, you did great. Better than I expected,” his voice low and husky.

Fuck.

You blink—Naoya is gone, but here Satoru is, still holding you so intimately, so intently.

The way he looks at you, the warmth in his touch, the tone of his voice—it makes you question the lines between reality and pretense.

“Didn’t know you had it in you.” Satoru hums, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. He leans in, his breath dancing on your lips, tantalizingly close. “But next time, let’s save the tongue for when we’re really alone, hm?”

What is he saying?

Your mind races, trying to decipher his words, his intentions. Was he still in character, or was there a hint of genuine desire in his eyes?

The electricity in the air was undeniable, and you find yourself lost in the intensity of his gaze—the crowd around you fading, their murmurs and whispers becoming a distant hum.

Satoru’s eyes held secrets you were desperate to uncover.

As you struggle to formulate your thoughts, Satoru’s hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb tracing a soft line along you jaw.

"Relax," he murmurs, "We're just putting on a show, remember?"

You nod, though your heart betrays you with its rapid pace.

“Right,” you whisper, forcing a smile. “Just a show.”

But deep down, you can’t shake the feeling that there was more to this act than either of you were willing to admit.

ahh i really enjoyed writing this chapter. okay, i was snickering at satoru's internal turmoil when he met haru for the first time. i couldn't resist with the digimon 🤭 my daughter is currently obsessed with pikachu so that's where that inspiration came from lol. also, this kiss was one of my favs to write 🥰 lemme know if you guys are interested in me making this a longer series. as always, thanks for reading 🫶🏻 → on to the next chapter ꨄ

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