#gojo fic

[reignpage]

What's Your Favourite Scary Movie?

Synopsis: in which the jjk men are your roommates in a modern au and you've just watched a horror movie Warnings: cursing, some gory descriptions of movie scenes, mostly fluff and crack, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna Word Count: 3.2k

Gojo:

He yelps, hands flying. 

“That’s the third jumpscare in five minutes, why do they hate us?”

You laugh, popping some popcorn in your mouth. He’s got the bowl in his lap as you two share a blanket, thighs pressed together, and his arm’s strung at the back of the sofa. Admittedly, you’re sharing a moment that is way too intimate for roommates, but neither of you point it out.

The movie is terrifying. Somehow, everything looks real, and the plot is so captivating you genuinely feel like you’re a character being chased by the slasher. It sets an odd feeling of dread in your stomach. 

Throwing a popcorn in the air, he catches it perfectly and grins at you, expecting praise. You roll your eyes and bury yourself deeper under the blanket. Not even he can distract you from the allure of the horror movie. 

Eventually, the movie ends, and your hands are still shaking. Beside you, Satoru yawns with a stretch, shirt riding up to reveal his hard abs. You poke it. He writhes. 

“Hey! Keep your hands off the merchandise.”

Giggling, you mess up his hair and bid him goodnight. He grumbles complaints but otherwise returns to his room too, a soft smile of his lips as he waves dramatically.

There are lots of shadows in your room. You never noticed it before; it’s all you can see now. Your eyes dart from surface to surface, frantically as if monsters would genuinely pop out. It’s ridiculous. You’re a grown adult. 

Grabbing your phone, you text your roommate. You ask if you can sleep in his room tonight. Through the wall you hear a muffled yell. Something that sounds oddly like, ‘hell yeah’.

Half expecting a flirty message, you’re pleasantly surprised he doesn’t tease you too much and says yes. 

You don’t waste any time. 

Rushing to his room, you don’t need to knock because somehow, he senses you and opens the door, a goofy smile on his lips. 

“I’ve been waiting for my moment to shine,” he admits. “I knew you’d crawl into my bed sooner than later.”

You shove at his chest and roll your eyes at his exaggerated moan of pain. Climbing into bed, you make yourself comfortable, plumping up a pillow. He follows right behind you, jumping on the bed and laughing as you both bounce. 

“Don’t be such a child, Satoru.”

He makes a noise of indignation. “Says the scaredy cat next to me?”

The light’s off and your eyes have adjusted. And despite his presence, you don’t feel safe enough to sleep. There are still shadows and faint noises. You’re painfully aware of every creak, every gust of wind, and every thrum of car engines in the street. 

“Still can’t sleep, roomie?” Satoru whispers. He’s a lot closer than you realise but his warm breath does ease your anxiety a little. 

Shuffling, you turn to face him. “Don’t mention this in the morning.”

Without waiting for a response, you throw an arm and a leg over him, resting your head on his chest. He lays deathly still, tense for a second but then relaxes and wraps an arm around you too. 

“I totally will, y’know that, right?”

“Shut up, Satoru.”

He lands a wet kiss atop your head and rubs your back, cooing like a mother. With a feminine voice, his final words are, “Sleep well, my little angelkins.”

How your eyes haven’t gotten permanently stuck in a rolling position you don’t know. 

Geto:

Nodding his head, he studies the screen with mild interest. He isn’t really a movie person, but he never passes up these nights with you. Having seen stellar reviews of this new horror movie, you were excited to watch it with Suguru, hoping to see him be startled for once. 

He doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even wince. 

Unlike you. 

Not much of a talker, he doesn’t reply to your frantic complaints about how the characters need to stop saying ‘let’s split up’. Legs crossed, he drums a finger against his lips, watching you more than the screen, though you don’t notice. 

He can see the way you’re trembling, so very sensitive to every noise and movement. He’s finding this so terribly amusing, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. 

Once the movie ends, you part ways — Suguru with his hands in his hoodie pockets, humming, and you with your eyes flitting to the doors and windows. 

“Goodnight, pretty,” he says.

You mutter it back. 

As soon as you lock your door, you rush to the window of your room, pulling at it to ensure it’s securely locked. Satisfied, you sit on your bed eyeing the damn thing. What if you loosened it?

You check again, pulling harder and longer this time. It rattles loudly. Your phone pings.

Suguru’s asking what all the noise is. You explain and his replies only set you even more on edge. He reminds you to check under your bed and when you glance down at it you see only darkness in the gap. A gap big enough for a man to hide under.

Just as soon as he gives you the go-ahead, you run to his room, pushing the door open and jumping into bed, knees knocking into his back. He groans and you pat him apologetically. 

“You’re really scared, aren’t you,” he marvels. He’s still wearing his hoodie; it is cold tonight. You clutch it and hold him tightly. His comforting smell eases your nerves, and you let go of the tension in your shoulders just a little. “Don’t worry, pretty. I got you.”

“Thanks, Suguru,” you mumble, eyes flickering shut. 

He sighs, arm winding around his front to hold your hand which rests on his side. “What are friends for?”

Fast asleep already, you don’t hear the bitter tone of his words.

Choso:

Your friend had recommended a movie they said kept them up all night. Thinking you wouldn’t be bothered, you set it up for movie night with Choso. Even if it doesn’t scare you, it will scare him. And that’s even better. 

Very quickly, not even five minutes in, he’s clinging to your side. One hand holds yours, squeezing at every jumpscare whilst the other rests on your bare knee. You’re only wearing shorts, and you knew your roommate would jump at the chance to cop a feel. Well, you don’t mind. 

His fingers press into the fat of your thigh, but he’s not even looking at you. Choso’s genuinely captivated by the movie, gasping and grimacing like he’s a director’s dream audience. Those fingers dance and drum and rise on your leg. You smack it every time he goes too high. 

He pouts when you do.

When the movie finishes, you ruffle his hair. It’s still wet from his shower, and he hadn’t tied it up into his typical pigtails. Looking up at you, he gives you puppy eyes and before he can ask, you give him a playful ‘sweet dreams, Choso’ before you disappear into your room. 

Just as the door clicks shut, he texts you. 

He’s practically begging for you to grant him mercy, to come and sleep in his bed. Sighing, you agree, knowing full well his hands will wander. But fine. It’s not like you hate it. 

Walking into his room, you sigh when you see he’s got a lamp on and his duvet is halfway down his body, purposefully, you’re willing to bet, if the fact that he had stripped himself of his shirt is anything to go by. 

“Choso, tell me you didn’t take off your shirt because I was coming.” You sigh, exasperated. 

Lying there with an innocent smile, he blinks up at you. “I wouldn’t.”

Oh, but he totally would, the mischievous little thing. 

Throwing caution to the wind, you climb into bed with him regardless, falling down with a huff. Just as your head hits the pillows, he’s scooping you up and tangling his limbs with yours. Ignoring your groans, he lays his head on your chest, nuzzling there with a contented hum. 

“Goodnight!”

“Don’t ‘goodnight’ me, Choso. Get off,” you demand. 

His reply?

To hold you tighter. 

You can’t fight back so you let him have this victory. Just this once. Even when a hand creeps under your shirt to rest on your ribcage, you don’t say a word. He’s such a pain in the ass but he’s an adorable pain in the ass. 

However, when his hand dares creep up a little higher, you smack your head against his. “Don’t you dare or else I’m going back to my own room.”

He mumbles into your chest, “Meanie.”

Days later, when you bring up his sensitivity to horror movies to his little brother, Yuji, the boy can only look confused, head tilting at you. 

“But my big bro loves horror movies?”

The bastard got you.

Toji:

You scream for the fifth time.

“Oh my god! Why am I seeing his literal intestines?”

Your roommate snorts. “You’ll scream at the drop of a fucking pin.”

He had chosen the vilest snuff film to ever exist on the planet. That’s probably not even an exaggeration. Every scene is full of blood and guts and dead bodies. You feel like you’re going to throw up. He, on the other hand, is laughing like he’s watching a comedy instead. 

“Stop glaring at me. Y’r missing the best bits,” he says. The ‘best bits’ in question is someone getting their head chopped off. Fed up, you excuse yourself. “Oh, come on. ’s not that bad.”

You flip him off. 

Hours later, you know he’s in bed. You are too. But you aren’t anywhere near sleepy. In fact, you’re wide awake. 

You can’t get the sight of pools of blood out of your mind. It’s all you can see. That and brain chunks. You’re definitely going to throw up. Shoving the covers off you text him a complaint. His replies only piss you off further. 

Tomorrow you’re going to hide his car keys. 

Somewhere in the apartment, you hear a clatter. You’re sure of it. There was absolutely a noise. Jolting upright, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise. Without waiting for another sign, you make a run for it, bolting to his room. 

After knocking a couple times, he opens the door with a deadpan look. It screams, ‘are you fucking serious?’

And you are. You absolutely are serious. Seeing that pathetic look on your face, he rolls his eyes with a groan lets you in. 

“How old are ya again?”

Shaking, you swear, “I heard a noise. Like an actual noise.”

“So? If there was a killer, ya totally should do the right thing and sacrifice yourself. For the betterment of me, of course.”

You shove at him. “You’re such a prick.”

He rakes a hand through his hair and it’s only now that you realise, he’s just in boxers. His shoulders are broad, abs and arms flexing with the movement and you feel your mouth water at the trail of hair that disappears into his underwear. You’re practically drooling at the sight of his thick thighs, bare and so muscular. 

“Stop eye-fucking me and get to sleep, brat.”

You stop staring. 

Lying side by side, you look up at the ceiling, hands drumming on your stomach. It’s hard to ignore the warmth he’s emanating and the way his masculine scent is filling your nose. 

“Be honest, Fushiguro.” At the sound of your voice, he groans. “You chose that movie to fuck with me, didn’t you?”

“Go to fucking sleep or I’m kicking your dumb ass out.”

You prod his bicep, mostly for your own benefit. “Just tell me the truth. I won’t get mad.”

Swatting your hand away, he growls, “No, I fucking didn’t. Happy now?”

You nod and let out a breath, sinking into the mattress and feeling ready to accept sleep. That is, until he opens his big fat mouth and you’re getting riled up all over again. 

“I totally did, actually.”

“I knew it!”

Nanami:

This was your own fault. 

You chose a stupid horror movie just because it was trending. Now, you’re practically on Kento’s lap, burying your face into his neck at even the mildest of scenes. He doesn’t complain. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer another film? It’s not too late to change,” he kindly offers.

Stubbornly, you shake your head. “No. Let’s finish this.”

Pushing his glasses up, he doesn’t fight you. He himself isn’t a fan of horror movies but he isn’t particularly vulnerable to jumpscares. Kento has always been a rational man, after all. He knows the blood is fake, he can tell when a shot is setting up for a plot twist, and he can already tell who will survive in the end. 

Which is why he makes the perfect movie buddy — he grounds you. His firm hand rubs soothingly on your back, muttering against your head when the scary scenes are done, and he even warns you when he senses another one building. 

He’s always so sweet and so supportive, you never dispute it when your friends joke that he’s practically your boyfriend. And sure, you would absolutely love it if he was, but maybe every kind act is just a reflection of who he is, rather than how he feels about you.

The movie ends and you’re left reeling.

“I can’t believe they killed everyone but just that one girl. She did nothing the entire time!”

Kento chuckles, folding up the blanket. “I believe she is, what they call, ‘the final girl’. So, I suppose she’s already served her purpose by existing.”

You offer to tidy up too, but he shoos you away, reminding you that it’s already late and you have lots to do the next day. With an appreciative smile, you give him a goodnight hug like you do every night and return to your room. 

You don’t stay there for long. 

Unable to stop ruminating on it, you text Kento to ask if the front door’s locked. He says it is. It’s his routine to double check and he does it without failure every night, but you just can’t help but worry it isn’t. Eventually, the fear that it might not be locked, or that it somehow became unlocked, won over you. 

There’s no way you’re going to check yourself. You ask Kento if you can sleep in his room and of course he doesn’t say no. 

His bedside lamp is on, and he’s sat up, reading a book. He gives you a warm smile and pats the bed. You’re a little disappointed he’s fully clothed but you keep that to yourself. 

Once beside him, you lie there, staring up at his face. He isn’t the least bit bothered by the terrifying movie; none would be able to tell he even watched one. Nanami Kento is a rock. Solid and unyielding. 

“Just let me finish this chapter and I’ll turn the light off,” he says. 

You shake your head. “It’s okay. Read as long as you want. Actually, do you mind reading to me? Your voice is so soothing, and I don’t think I can fall asleep otherwise.”

Gentle eyes fall on you and when something soft passes through his eyes, he smiles faintly, the golden flow of his lamp bringing out his youth. And he begins reading out every word on his page, low voice filling the room. 

You can’t recall if you fell asleep three pages later or two whole chapters later, but you do, movie long forgotten. 

Sukuna:

You’re onto him. 

The devil incarnate picked a stupidly gory horror movie. It’s so ridiculous, in fact, you almost mistook it for satire. But it isn’t. He’s trying to make you crack, to watch you squirm because apparently, he has nothing better to do. 

When the seventh jumpscare comes and you don’t flinch, he scoffs. “You watched this shit before?”

“No,” you say.

With thirty minutes still left, he turns the TV off and grumbles as he disappears into his room, the door slamming particularly loud. You sigh. He is so predictable. Truth is, the movie did scare you a little, but not enough to lose this little game you’ve been playing with him. 

At a leisurely pace, you go over your routine, humming a tune as he texts you. The man is always so angry. He really should get laid or something. Better yet, he should actually murder someone like his nature dictates. Maybe then he’ll get off your ass. 

When he threateningly texts that he’s coming to you, you can only pinch your nose bridge and open the door before he kicks it down. What you see on the other side only gives you a bigger headache — he’s only in boxers, muscular body on show, his tattoos highlighting every ridge. 

He pushes past you and gets himself settled into bed, shoving your plushie off the bed and it rolls by your feet. You pick it up and dust it off, placing it your desk chair instead, knowing he’ll just kick it off, or worse, if you place it back on the bed. 

“Hurry the fuck up,” he orders, one arm bent behind his head and the other lying straight across your pillow. 

You roll your eyes and climb in despite his stupid attitude. Trying to move his arm, you fail spectacularly; it doesn’t even move an inch. The thing is heavy as hell and his smug ass face knows it. He grunts though when your head falls onto it with more force than necessary. 

You turn your bedside lamp off. 

Encased in darkness, you can only do your best to ignore his presence, with very little success. He’s more on your side than his and he radiates heat like a furnace. The feeling of his hard body against your sides is doing nothing but distract you from seeking sleep. 

You really shouldn’t let him get away with his shit. 

“You call me the pyscho but you didn’t even blink at all that fucking bullshit,” he snarls, breaking the dull silence.

“It really wasn’t that scary, Sukuna.”

That arm you’re resting on curls, wrapping around your head until you’re being held against his chest in a headlock. He whispers against your ear, squeezing threateningly and growling, “You aren’t scared of me?”

You know you should be. He’s proven time and time again there are no lengths he wouldn’t go to prove a point. You’ve seen firsthand the destruction he can cause, the pain he can inflict, and his devil may care attitude. 

He’s a loose cannon. 

“Just go to sleep, weirdo,” you reply, smacking his forearm. 

Sukuna laughs. He actually laughs. You feel it rumble under your head, vibrations reaching your own chest and your eyes flutter shut. 

“You’re lucky you’re fucking adorable, you little brat.”

His threats always fall on deaf ears with you; they no longer hold any weight. Not since you’ve seen all the ways he’d go above and beyond for you. In his own freaky way, he’s shown he cares many times. You can’t possibly be scared of someone who feels as soft as he does.

You fall asleep in his arms, a ghost of something soft grazing your cheek.

[carbondioxidewater]

Tower Of Strength (Pt. 4)

When Satoru Gojo lets you know about your boyfriend's infidelity, your world falls apart. But who would have thought that the popular college boy would be your rock in those tough times? And how will your relationship develop?

Starring: Gojo Satoru

(-> previous) (-> masterlist)

Sorry it took so long 😭😭😭 it's been busy months. Also there's lots of references in here 😋

Lmk what you guys think!!! 🫶

taglist: @theclassbookworm @llawlietluv @pasteldaze @celloccino @kaged-kitty @thirtykiwis @muli-wam @makeshiftproject @harryzcherry @n1vi @starmapz

[thehighpriestess1]

Taglist status: Open 💖

Make A Wish Chapter 1 : The Bet

Warning: Self harm tendencies mentioned. Dark themes. 

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Gojo x y/n

a/n: Hi! I hope you all missed me as much as I missed you. This is my first work in a long long long time so forgive me, I am a bit out of practice. I hope you like this. Leave a comment if you want to join the taglist.

30th July 2024, 12:30 AM

The neon blue lights of the club gave a grim hue to the streets. You heels barely on your feet anymore tried their best to carry you from one club to the other. You frazzled hair welcomed the gush of the wind. You took a deep breath, filling up your lungs with the cold night air. Was it even night anymore? You looked up at the sky and chuckled. What a beautiful night this was. After weeks of downpour you could finally see the clear sky. A group of boys ran past you and you almost fell but regained your balance at the last second. 

If anyone were to make a judgement on you they would probably think you are high society women drinking her sorrows away. Some would even try to get close to you to gain a few favours. But little did they know, you had nothing to offer. 

With shaking legs you made your way from one bar to the other. Some didn’t let you enter and those that were allowed were filled with men trying to get into your pants. Maybe if you were a different person you would have found a handsome man and gone home with it. You were not judgemental that way. But you had no heart or soul left to care for anything. You had things to do tonight..or tomorrow morning. Does time even matter now? You reeked of not yours but perfumes of men you had been dancing with for the past 3 hours. 

What brought you here? Heartbreak? Or did you just want the courage to do one last thing right. Having a nice quiet night at home was a suitable option but a part of you feared that you might enjoy your time at home and change your mind. You were on a mission. So you bought a new dress, wore all of your best jewelry, carried your most expensive purse and walked out. 

Now as you stood outside of your 7th bar of the night you could barely see anything. You sniffled and wiped your mascara stained tears. Every place was the same. Crowded, sweaty, and filled with men making empty promises.

Your phone buzzed in your purse. You groaned and took it out, the screed displayed Shoko’s name and a selfie you took with her many moons ago and it made you want to throw up. You cut the call and saw a storm of texts coming from Shoko and Geto. Swiping right on one the texts you opened the chat but could barely read any message. 

Gojo…help…call.. What? Were they still worried more about him?! Him?! They were worried about the one with everything in the world?! You didn’t expect this from Shoko. Even if she had to pick a side, why couldn’t it be yours? Why can’t anyone ever look at you?! You had feelings too! Your lips quivered as you tried to stop yourself from breaking down in the middle of the road. You scrolled through the text..Gojo..find..please

Please….call…

The letter moved in and out of focus and you tried your best to string the words together to just see the three words you had been begging to hear from your friends. How are you? 

Your phone buzzed in your hand but it was Geto calling. You scoffed and cut the call. There was no way you were going to pick up his call. 

You needed to forget everyone. Especially the three of them. You were a fool to think they would ever be on your side. They were thick as thieves. Friends since they were one and you..you were just a cog in the system. Put in place to help them…no.. To serve them..a toy to entertain them. You took a deep breath and walked to your next stop. 

Loud music filled the alley as you looked for the next bar that would let you drink your sorrows away preferably quietly.You didn’t have it in you to stand in queues or flirt with the bouncer .A loud neon pink light snapped you out of your pity party for one. As you looked up, you saw a large neon pink sign, Fate. You had never seen this bar before and there was no queue or bounce so you stepped inside anyway. 

Contrary to the modern sign outside, the bar had an old parlour aesthetic. Leather couches were sprawled in the sets of two and a heavy oak round table sat in between them.Two men sat in a corner silently as they sipped their beer. A woman sat alone on a velvet chair to  your right drinking a shimmery cocktail and talking to herself. The circular bar counter in the center had a halo like effect, beckoning you to have another sip. The bartender was already looking at you with a welcoming smile like one offers to an expected guest. 

“Welcome!”. He called from a distance. 

You walked to the bar counter and sat on one of the velvet bar stools. “Hi, can I see your menu?”. You tried your best to appear sober. You can’t afford to get kicked out of yet another bar now.

“How about I suggest you a drink you really need…y/n?”

“Huh?” Did he just say your name or was it your mind playing tricks again? Must be the alcohol from hours of drinking. “Ummm..yeah sure”.

The man placed a glass of clear liquid in front of you.

“What’s this?” 

The bartender chuckled. “Water”. It’s bar policy to make sure that customers are hydrated, You see our drinks are quite strong”

You looked up from your glass of water to the bartender. He was handsome with a sharp jaw and high cheekbones. His doe-like eyes had a spark to them, like it held all the stars of the galaxy. His dark brown hair stood perfectly. His clean vest and crisp white shirt fitted his toned body quite well. His kind smile made you relax in your barstool. 

As you sipped the water you felt your body getting lighter. “Wow..thank you..I needed that”.

The man chuckled. 

“Not that I am drunk…but hydration is good”.

“It is, isn’t it. It’s sad how we forget to take care of ourselves. We don’t need to have a perfect life to take care of ourselves, do we?” He smiled again. 

“This place is quite..” You looked around at the largely empty bar. “...vacant”.

“Oh it’s an exclusive bar you see”. He said nonchalantly as he shook the tumblr in his hand.”Only those you need it can visit”. 

You frowned at him,”I..what?”.

The man chuckled again. “I said our aesthetic doesn't resonate with everyone”.

“oh…I see”. 

“Maybe you can help us. You work in marketing right?”. 

“Yeah..I used to..wait how do you..?”. 

“You told me a few seconds ago”. He said as he poured the drink into a goblet like glass.

“Did I?” You smiled nervously. “But yeah…I used to..I..”

“Got fired?”. He placed the drink on a metal coaster in front of you. 

You stared blankly at him. Maybe you had too much for today. “Yeah…Thank you”. You stared at the drink, it was pink like the sign outside with a hint of golden glitter. “This looks quite pretty”. You smiled widely and took your phone out and quickly took a photo. “What is it called?”

The bartender placed both of his palms flatly on the glass counter and leaned closer and looked at you, “it’s called a second chance”.

Another flirt, you thought to yourself. “Why is it called so?”

“You will find out soon”. He winked and turned away to work on the other side of the bar. 

You sipped your drink and realized that a faint song was playing in the bar that you didn’t hear when you walked in. The song grew louder but just enough so you can hear the lyrics. You were not sure you had heard it before. Change the prophecy…redo the prophecy…cards on the table

You sipped the drink and suddenly had a deep urge to redo everything. God if you could redo everything you would not make the same mistakes again. This wasn’t anger or vengeance. It was a desperate cry for help. Your head spun as the liquor trickled down your throat. The urge grew stronger with each sip.

1st June 2024 1:00 AM

“Hello”.

Hearing your mom's voice on the other end of the line made you choke up. “He..Hello..mom?”

“Y/n?”

You pressed your lips as you knew where the conversation would go but your heart wanted to try one more time. Hoping that she would remember that you were her daughter after all.

“I..I left him”. Your words came out in broken sobs. 

The silence made your heart tighten. 

“Why?”. Your mom asked sternly.

“I..I can’t do it anymore. I tried mom. I real-”

“Well you didn’t try hard enough. Relationships are hard. It needs work. You can’t just give up every time you have a fight”.

All the bottled up emotions came out as loud sobs escaped your lips. Snot and tears mixed and rolled down your chin. Your eyes burnt from hours of crying. “But mo-”.

“You know how much he has done for our family don’t you? If it wasn’t for him your brother would still be unemployed! God y/n….”

“Please..just..I will take care of you and Ren..I ca-”

“No! I..you need to grow up y/n. I..I have always supported you. But please..for the sake of our family..you need to work on it”.

You were speechless. This wasn’t the first sob filled cry for help. It wasn’t 10th either. You didn’t know whether your mother was just sick of your sob story or she loved his acts of kindness more than she loved her own daughter. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t deny how much he has done for your family. But you could not ignore what he was doing to you either. You knew you could never match up to you everything he had done but that didn’t merit your sad obedience to him. 

“Hello? y/n?”. Your mother called out.

“I..”. You wiped your tears away and took a deep breath. “..you know what he has done”.

You mom stayed silent for a few seconds and you hoped that just for a second she would pity you.

“So what? Men are stupid. They make mistakes. Even your dad-”.

“Do not compare him to dad! He is nothing like him! Dad cared enough to change! He doesn’t! Oh god! I..I can’t..mom I am sorry…I can’t..I can’t take this anymore. Please…just..help m-”

“Do what you want y/n. Just remember that if it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t have any of this. He is your-”.

“Don’t say it”. You cut her off staring at the ring on your hand. What a joke. “If I stay with him for another day it would kill me..I might ki-”

“Do whatever you want then!”. She yelled from the other end. “I would rather have no daughter than have an ungrateful daughter like you!”. 

Those were the last words she said to you.

You held the phone in your hand and sat staring blankly at the wall. When a fierce thunder lit up the dark room you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You looked no different from a zombie with hair frizzy and falling over your shoulder in knots, eyes red and swollen, skin red and lifeless. You had been wearing the same t-shirt for over a week now. Is this life even worth living? 

Your phone buzzed and Shoko’s text flashed on the screen,

Shoko: You are taking things out of context. You should hear him out.

Shoko: I will support you in whatever decision you take. But you need to talk to him once.

Shoko: It was all planned by Mishki. 

All the texts were about him. Everyone wanted him. Everyone was charmed by him. No one cared about what you wanted or how you were doing. You had no one. No one would miss you if you were gone. 

You looked at the calendar hanging on the wall. 2 months until your birthday. What a nice way to go..on your birthday…

“Excuse me?”You called out to the bartender. “Can I get another drink?”.

The man walked over to you and took your glass away. “Sorry, only one drink per person”. He smiled.

“Wh-”

“It’s time for you to step out y/n”.

You gulped harshly. Maybe you made a fool of yourself again, it wasn’t the first or the third time. Same story every night. “How much do I owe you?”. You asked as you shot an apologetic smile.

“You can give whatever you want”. 

So it was one of those places where customers decided the price. You took the Amex card out and stared at it for a second,hoping that the payment goes through, before sliding it across the table. 

“We don’t take cards, sorry”. 

You rummaged through your purse to look for cash but had none. “I am sorry I don’t have cash”. 

“We take payments in every form”.

You were taken aback with this comment. Swate beads formed on your forehead as you realized what the situation was.

The man laughed heartily. “I mean the bracelet on your wrist looks pretty good as a payment”.

You looked down at  your wrist. You had worn all three cartier love bracelets that he had gifted you. Even the just un clou and love rings. You didn’t know why you were wearing them all at once. Should you even have it with you? Each piece of jewelry brought back bittersweet memories. One by one you took out all your jewellery and the watch and placed it on the counter. The counter was now littered with earrings, necklace, bracelets, rings, and a watch. All gifted by him. “There you go”. 

“Are you sure you will not miss these? They seem sentimental”

You stared at the bundle and shook your head. 1st bracelet for when you caught him in the parking lot, rings for when he stood you up on numerous dates, necklace for when you caught him at his grandfather’s funeral, and the watch for when he didn’t show up for your grandfather's funeral. It was time to let go of these. “Please keep all of this”.

“By the way y/n..”. 

You looked up, sweeping your hair to one side, “Yes?”

“Happy BIrthday”.

“Thank You”. You smiled sadly and hopped off the barstool. 

“I will see you again”. 

“I doubt so. Thank you once again”

You grabbed your purse and made your way to the door. Right above the door was a sign etched in golden on dark wood. Fata Viam Invenient. 

A cold gust of wind blew your hair and welcomed you when you stepped outside. You didn’t want to go home just yet and all the bars where you were not banned were shutting down now. You wanted a few more hours out of life.  Your phone buzzed once more but you didn’t bother checking it this time. You looked down at the black mini kelly and held it in your hand like a mother nursing a child, another gift from him for forgetting your birthday. Last of the painful gifts. You wanted to throw it away but a part of you wanted to hold onto it. To remind yourself that he was real. That all of it happened. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was a glorious war that you lost. But god you fought it bravely and gave it your all. 

Someone coughed loudly, snapping you out of your fantasies.On your right you saw a homeless man shivering in the cold, black soot marks littered over his face, salt and pepper hair matted to his head.He was slouching against the concrete wall of the bar .Was it winter already? Alcohol coursed through your veins and a smile grazed your lips as you found your companion for the night. You stumbled and made your way to the man and sat next to him and lit the last cigarette in your 20 pack box. He gave you a sympathetic look. 

“You alright, miss?”. He asked kindly.

You chuckled, “Are you in a position to ask me how I am doing?”. Taking a long drag you rested your head against the concrete wall. 

The man looked down and saw the red scars on your knees. “All I can offer is kindness”. He said softly.

Kindness. A concept foreign to you. “Kindness..” You rolled the word on your tongue. “....thank you..for your kindness”, you said wiping another tear.

“Heartbreak?” The man asked.

You smiled. “I….maybe..yes”.

“Who is the man…”. The man pulled his coat closer as another gust of wind swept the alley. An empty beer clanked and rolled to your feet. 

“He is..a myth….he is not real..not anymore..”. You took out your Burberry scarf and wrapped it around the man’s neck. “Take this..”.

The man rubbed the material between his fingers and gave you a questioning look. “This is real. This must be quite expensive”.

You smiled, “Keep it, I don’t want it”.

“That man must be stupid to let go of a woman like you”.

“Trust me I am not that kind..”. Your cigarette was on its last few drags and it bummed you. “Do you want to eat something?”

The man nodded. 

“Gottit! Let’s order some food!” You took your phone out and began scrolling through restaurants on Ubereats. “Aha!”. With a childish smile you placed your order.

“What’s your name?”. The man asked. 

You looked at him but he looked slightly different now. His face seemed clearer. You shrugged it to the effects of alcohol wearing out. “Y/n..what’s yours?”.

“Yojutsusha” The man smiled.

“Interesting name”

You sat in silence for a while watching drunk salary men puking in the corner, Men carrying drunk women out, some waiting for a cab, friends laughing loudly, everyone had a reason to be here..except you.

You tried to recall how this night started. But it didn’t matter. This was your night time routine. While most people preferred serums, moisturiser, calming music, or tea..you preferred the bitter taste of alcohol and stumbling from one bar to another. Drinking with strangers every night. But in every strange face you saw glimpses on him. Some had the same nose, some had the same lips, but no one was wholly him. The thought of him made your heart ache. You ruined everything. You could have had a good life, a job, a loving partner, a friend..but here you were, drunk, lost, sitting in a dingy alley waiting for your food. 

A delivery man on his scooter stopped in front of you and looked around with a Ubereats bag in his hand. You snapped out of your thoughts and raised your hand, “Oi! Here! Delivery for y/n?”.

The delivery man looked apprehensive but shyly walked over to you, “Y/n?”

“That’s me!”. You smiled and extended your hand towards him.

The man seemed unsure as he looked over to the homeless man next to you. He wanted to question you more but also wanted to get out of here as soon as possible so he handed you the paper bag.

“Dinner’s ready!”. You slurred and took out two bags of french fries, fried chicken, and two diet coke. “Here, have this”. You passed a portion to the homeless man. 

The silence between the two of you was comfortable. Neither of you said a word but occasionally you felt the man looking at you. Maybe he pitied you.

“I don’t pity you”. The man chuckled. 

You laughed with your mouth half filled with food. “Sorry..I was just thinking out loud I guess”. The warm food and his company brought you comfort. For the first time in the last 6 months you felt okay. You had a strange feeling in your heart, you were ready to give it all up. Nothing mattered anymore. You have lived your life. You touched the sun and now your wax wings were burning. The pain was your price to pay for dreaming of the glowing sun. If you fall, so be it. It was worth it. Years of pain, guilt, heart break, loss…all worth it. You had touched the sun. 

“Would you like to play a game?”. The man asked, wiping his mouth. 

“What kind of game?”. You asked.

“A bet”. He smiled with his mischievous eyes.

30th July, 2024 12:00 AM

Gojo paced frantically around your living room. He kept on checking his phone every few steps. Hoping to get some updates from you. “Did she answer your call?” He asked Shoko for the 100th time.

“No. But she read the messages just now”. She said, wiping her tears. She looked at her phone in one hand and your letter in another. What if it was too late? What if they were too late?

“That’s a relief. I am getting my men to track her phone down!”. He sat down next to her and hysterically typed instructions to his men who were in a van outside the building praying that they track you down. Their life depended on it. 

How did it all come to this? Gojo questioned everything. Few hours ago he was on his way to your home with a bouquet of flowers and a cake and now the flowers are dead and the cake box is on the floor. He remembered looking all over the apartment for you but all he found was the letter on the kitchen counter. Gojo didn’t believe it at first. But once he looked at the empty fridge, wiped out the closet, and an almost empty house, he knew…He fucked up. He realized everything too late..and now he might lose you forever. All because of his selfish pride and ego. If he could, he would kill himself over and over again before letting anything happen to you. He would take his heart out and stab it thousand times over to feel the pain he has caused you. Did he even deserve you? How could he be so blind?

“Please…god please..”. He begged no one in particular. 

Shoko sat frozen next to him and clenched the letter in her hand. She was the person Gojo called, hoping that she would know something. If she was being honest and had any will to talk she would admit that she was surprised when Gojo called her. She was surprised that Gojo cared at all. “Why did you come here?”. She asked.

“I..I don’t know. I just wanted to talk to-”.

“You turned everyone against her didn’t you?”

Gojo remained silent. He was guilty. But he wanted to make things right now. 

Shoko took a deep breath and continued, “You turned me against her. You told me that she tried to sleep with Geto. Was any of it true?”. Her heart beat loudly against her chest. She didn’t know whether she wanted it to be true or not. Either way she would not be able to live with herself.

“No”. 

Shoko broke down. She howled like a mad woman as she hit Gojo with her fists. “Why?! Why?! Why?! You are a monster! A fucking monster! You were my friend!”.

Gojo tried to hold her down to calm her and one of her fists landed on his nose. 

An eerie silence filled the house as a trickle of blood dripped down his nose. “I deserve it”. He said. “I ..I can’t explain right now…”.

“Try!”.

“I didn’t want to lose her. I did horrible things! I know! But I didn’t want to lose her! She..”, Gojo gulped harshly.”..she would have left me if she had you..or anyone…I couldn’t let that happen..I know I got selfish and made some bad decisions but I..I love her. I love her. I..love her.”.

Shoko stayed silent for a while. She had known Gojo and Geto since she was one. She trusted them. But you were her best friend. You were the friend she needed but never had.  

“If we find her, I will talk to her and I don’t want you to be near her ever again”.

“I..can’t let that happen”. Gojo said coldly. 

“Why Satoru? Why do you want to make her life a living hell again? There is nothing in the letter that mentions you. So you..and your empire are safe! Just do me the favour of finding her and leave!”. 

“Stay here until I get back”, Gojo couldn’t sit here and do nothing. He needed to find you before it got too late so he picked up his car keys and left.

30th July 2022 10:00 PM

Gojo groaned as his phone rang once again. He didn’t need to look who was calling him. He knew it was you. 

“Shouldn’t you pick it up?”. Mishki said as she sipped her red wine and looked a thim through her lashes. 

“It’s nothing important”.

“What if it’s your..fiance?”. 

Gojo let out a tired sigh and chuckled defeatedly. “You got me. It is her”.

Mishki raised a brow prompting him to go on. 

“She is probably calling to check where I am, what am I doing, When will I see her, ugh…it’s never ending…and she is not my fiance".

"Oh but that's not what I have heard"

Gojo smiled charmingly, "Do you know how many women in the city claim to me by girlfriends?"

“I see. Interesting relations you have..Satoru. I hope I can call you that”.

“You can call me anything you want. Shall we discuss our deal now?”. 

.

.

.

Back at home you sat on the couch with your face in your hands. Tear drops rolled down your chin onto the cake that had been sitting out for 3 hours. You knew Gojo was a busy man so you didn't expect him to do much but picking up your call on your birthday was the bare minimum you expected.

On clue, 5 minutes before the clock struck 12 Gojo walked through your living room door and rolled his eyes when he sae your puffy eyes and tired face. "oh come on now!".

"Where were you?", you got up and made your way towards him. "I have been calling you for-"

"For the past 3 hours? I know! Can't you get a hint?"

"Satoru..it's..".

"It's what y/n?! How many times have I told you to not disturb me when I am in a meeting? Don't you get it by now that I am a busy man! I don't have time to play house with you!"

"It's my birthday for fuck's sake!". You screamed.

Gojo was taken aback by your outburst. "So? I work on my Birthday! What is so special about birthdays anyway?!"

You stared at him blankly. "I..I just wanted to have dinner with you on my birthday. It is special to me".

"Why didn't you call Shoko then huh?".

"I did but..but she said she was busy".

Gojo scoffed, drawing the dagger deeper in your heart. "See, not everyone has the free time to sit and celebrate like kids. You need to grow up". He walked over to you and took you in his arms, "Look y/n, you know that everything I do, I do it for us right? So please be on my side here. I am really trying".

His embrace brought you comfort and you relaxed in his arms and nodded. Maybe you blew things out of proportion. "I know, you're right. It's just a birthday. It comes every year anyway".

"Exactly!". Gojo pulled back and smiled at you. "Now go wash your face and let's go to bed. I am tired".

As you lay in bed wide awake you thought about the uncut cake in the fridge. You turned around hoping to wake up Gojo but realised that he would probably call you childish for caring about a cake.

The fridge light illuminated the kitchen as you crouched down and slowly tried to pull out the cake. It was Gojo's favourite strawberry and cream cake.

You lit a small candle on a triangle piece and made a silent wish,"I want to be happy".

As you ate the cake in silence you looked around at the luxurious apartment he generously gifted you. When you first moved in it was your happy place, your sanctuary. But, lately it has been getting cold. You had everything that someone of your standing could ask for. A house, a car, a partner who supported you..financially. It all felt like a gold cage now.

You would happily trade all this comfort for a partner who wanted your company more than he wanted the next big offer on the table. You laughed to yourself. Were these really your problems now? Few years ago you would have taken this happily but now you are bitching about it as you eat an expensive slice of cake.You had touched the your amex card more than you had touched him in the past few months.Being with Gojo made you realise that how wrong you were in running after the money. Guess this was a small price to pay. People in castles are often lonely.

30th July, 2024 2:00 AM

Gojo drove at an ungodly speed across the city, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. He visited every restaurant and cafe you had mentioned. His best guess was that you would visit your favourite cafe on your birthday or maybe the place where you had your first date with him. But if he was being honest, he had no clue where to look for you. In the last two months he barely looked at you or spoke to you and it was all his fault. He was so busy fixing everything that he forgot to fix one thing that mattered the most, your heart. 

All your pleas and fights rang in his ear serving a cruel reminder of his actions. His heart raced faster than the time as he thought about everything he could have done differently. God if only he had one last chance he would do things differently. All the money in the world could not undo his actions. He groaned and hit the steering wheel thinking how misplaced his priorities were. By the time he realised what mattered the most, it was already too late. He hoped that it wasn’t too late. He prayed that you were safe and sound somewhere and that when he found you, you would find it in your heart to forgive him. But he knew deep in his heart, the best thing he can do for you is to let you go. But how could he? How could he let go of you? You brought sunshine into his life. Everything he was today was because of you. You were his motivation, his totem keeping his world stable.

He thought about your last Birthday and his actions brought bile to his mouth. He felt disgusted at himself. He imagined himself running out of the meeting to see you and how you would jump in his arms happily and he would kiss your pain away. But he didn't run out of any meetings. He didn't let you go when he should have. Instead he brought more pain to your life. He cursed you. He hurt you.

As the streetlights flashed past him, he wondered what he would say if he found you. Was it too late for a genuine apology? People gave him questioning looks as he ran the streets looking around in every direction. In this big and cold city he felt lost. He stopped and called out to women who looked like you and gave them a disappointing look when he realized he was wrong. 

He ran through alleys with questionable people waiting to take advantage of a vulnerable man. He spent thousands of dollars on strangers hoping to get some direction. He pulled his hair and screamed in empty alleys leading to a dead end. 

He never gave you the time you deserved and now time was slipping through his fingers. With each passing second, with each dead end lead, with each negative response, Gojo was slipping into insanity. 

Gojo stopped his car at a pier where the two of you would often meet. He sat on the bench where you had your first kiss. Defeated, devastated, tired, and hopelessly in love. Broken sobs filled the silence around him. “Please..God please!!”. He hung his head like a soldier who lost the war he was sure to win. His tears stained the light wood near his feet in dark brown. “Please..please..please..!!!”. He screamed. 

His phone buzzed. The message on the screen broke his cracked heart. “Found y/n’s phone by the river”. 

He was too late. It was too late. The world spun around him and then it all went dark.

30th July 2024, 4:00 AM

“How am I losing every time?”. You groaned and looked at the man hopelessly. 

The man shrugged looking at the spread of cards in front of him. “You are not playing with your heart”.

You scoffed looking at the cards in your hand,”My heart has been played enough. I should be using my brain now”.”

“In this game and in life people make the fatal mistake of not balancing between their feelings and logic. Do not force yourself to use logic where you should be listening to your heart”.

You laughed, “You are quite cryptic”.

“What do you want to bet next?”. He asked. Maybe it was the fading effects of liquor, but the man seemed wise and not as ragged as you had found him. 

“Hmm..let me see”. You pondered over his words for a moment.” So far I have lost my heels, my jacket..all I have left is my bag”

“Are you willing to part with it?”.

You held your bag in your hand and took a deep breath, “Yeah, why not”. You took your phone and placed the bag in between the two of you.

“Are you forgetting something?”

You chuckled, “what rule am I forgetting now?”

“Your keys. I am sure a girl like you has a house to return to”.

Your mind went numb. Did you even want to go back? What was the point? “No. I have everything I need”. After all, all you needed was your phone for identification. “Okay, so what do I do now?”.

“Now you pick a card from the deck?”

The deck of cards that the man had pulled out hours before was not the regular cards you had at home. Sure it was the basic 52 card deck, but they felt premium to hold. You felt the card between your fingers, turning it around to see the golden rune calligraphy on the navy blue background. “Oh…this card is blank..”.

The man smiled and began arranging his cards neatly in a pile on top of remaining cards. One can not interfere with fate. Humans think that fate is largely in our hands but little do we know that there are powers beyond our comprehension that work in cohesion to chart our life. Long ago you had cursed the fates, a curse so powerful that it compelled the fate to hear your plea. Now, you were given a chance to redo your life. An apology from the fates. 

“Is it?”

“Mmhmm”. You extended the card for the man to see. 

“What are the other cards in your hand?”.

“Queen of hearts, King of spades, and a-’

“Ace of hearts?”

You looked at the man in disbelief. Was he a con man, did you just get conned? You laughed at yourself. “Yes. An Ace of hearts”

The man smiled to himself and looked at you. A much younger version of him stared back at you.

“You!”. Your eyes widened as you realized why the man seemed familiar. “I just saw you inside!”. The same man who served you the drink was sitting in front of you. 

“What does your heart desire y/n?”

“Who are you?! And..and why..”. You felt dizzy and disoriented. “Did he..did he send you?” You stuttered. 

“Who? The god?”. The man laughed from his stomach. “You called me y/n. Did you forget?”

“Wh..what..no..I don-”.

“Yes you did. You screamed to the thundering skies above and asked for one more chance! So there you go!”. The man stared at you excitedly like a magician about to do the grand reveal.

Your hands trembled as you slowly turned the card to see three golden words appear on it out of thin air, Make a wish. You felt as if all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. 

The man looked at you with folded hands and dropped shoulders. “Well, since you were going to end your life anyway, I thought today would be the best time to-”.

Before the man could finish you grabbed your phone and bolted in the other direction. Tears ran down your face and the world spun around you. You looked back once to see if he was following you but the alley was empty now.

“Careful now”. The man appeared in front of you causing you to lose your balance. “Oops! Can’t let you get hurt”. He smiled as he caught you with one arm. 

“Please let me go..I will ..I swear I will never tell anyone about this”

“Darling even if you do, no one would believe you”. He shrugged and handed you the single card. “Take it. What’s the worst that can happen?”.

You took a few steps back and gulped hershey.

“Your time is running out y/n. You would be dead in..”. He took out a pocket watch and stared at it amusingly. “..in about 10 minutes”.

“What..why? Please don’t kill me!”.

“Aha!”. The man took one step towards you as you took one step away from him. “I can’t kill you. Since you decided to do the honours yourself tonight, I was just biding time with you. You can either accept this card and start over or…well..”, A shot of smoke appeared from his right palm, “,,poof..you can choose to cease to exist”.

You stared at the card in his left hand and his pocket watch in the right. Was this really happening? 

“Come one y/n, there must be someone you would live for..what about baby ren?”

Your eyes widened. “What..what is the catch?”.

“Oh there is no catch. It is merely an apology from me..I mean us. The only condition..you will be sent to a specific decisive moment in your life and from there…it all you..”. 

“What if..what if I…”.

“This is your last chance. You will never see me again..ever”.

Everything that had happened in the last few years flashed before your eyes. All the lies, betrayal, hurt, why did you have to suffer? You thought about the countless days where you cried in your bed curled up like a baby. Did you deserve that? You thought about all the fights you had in your mind where he gave you a chance to explain. But did he? All the dreams he showed you were all smoke and mirrors in the end. All the promises were just words spewed out in a blissful moment. He used you in the cruelest way and god oh god you missed who you used to be before you.He was a forbidden fruit that you dared to taste and you wished he had left you wondering instead. You would have died for his sins but you were dead inside. You thought about all the times you wished to redo things, to never cross paths with him again. This was your chance. 

You took the card from his hand and looked at him, “What do I do now”.

“Now you close your eyes y/n..”

You nodded your head.

“All the best y/n”. The man smiled. 

With a deep breath you closed your eyes and then it all went dark.

You opened your eyes and found yourself staring at your laptop screen. Your heart pounded in your ear and sweat beads rolled down your forehead like a string of pearls. HArsh sunlight blinded your eyes and you squinted to make sense of your surroundings. It wasn’t your room and yet it seemed familiar. Was it all a cruel dream? You gulped down the half empty glass of water kept on your table and leaned back in your chair gasping for air.

You stared blankly at the fan above and then it dawned on you. Slowly you got up and checked the date on your phone.

1st January 2021, 10:00 AM…

So it was all a dream then. But it felt too real. You ran your hands through your hair and took another deep breath. Just as you were about to get up from your desk a faint familiar blue peeking between pages of your diary caught your eye. With a quivering breath you dared to flip the page and the room got drained of oxygen when you saw the same card with the three words written. So it was all real. 

Right above the card scribbled in haphazard writing were cursed words that changed your life, Domain Dynamics Inc Interview : 01/01/21 10:15 AM. 

A team's notification snapped you out of your thoughts and saw a meeting reminder. You smiled to yourself and joined the meeting.

“Hello, y/n! Congratulations on getting through previous rounds! We are ha-”.

“I can not accept this offer”. You said as excitement coursed through your veins.

“Excuse me?”

“I..I am sorry for wasting your time but I can not accept this offer”.

“Y/n..if this is about your salary then we ca-”.

“It’s not. It’s not about the salary. 120k is a lot and I am sure you will find a better suited and more…deserving candidate for this role. I can’t accept this offer. Thank you for your time”. You ended the meeting with a wide smile on your face. Now you will never cross paths with him again.

“Good riddance”. You mumbled to yourself and opened your email. You remembered this day very very well. 

To: n.kento@goldenratiodesigns.com

Hello Mr.Kento,

It has been a pleasure interviewing with your firm and getting to know you and samantha. I would like to let you know that I will gladly accept your offer. I have attached a signed copy of my offer letter. Please let me know if anything else is needed from my end.

Looking forward to working with you and the team!

Regards,

Y/n l/n.

“Fuck Yess!!!!”. You creamed as you punched the air. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”.

“Y/n! What happened?”. You mom walked in barging through your bedroom. 

You turned around and saw the version of your mom not corrupted by Gojo but your still ached. You got up and hugged your mom like you were afraid to lose her.

She gently rubbed your back and chuckled,”What happened? I thought you had an interview right now so we were all quiet.”

“I..yes I did. But I didn’t accept the offer from Domain Dynamics”. You moved back and looked to the ground like a guilty child caught stealing.

“Why not?”

You could have lied that they didn’t offer a good pay but you wanted to know in your heart that she loved you regardless of how much you earned. 

“They were paying well but I didn’t like the company. People were quite rude and..selfish”.

“Oh, okay. What about the other firm?”.

“I accepted the offer from Golden Ratio Designs! The pay is lower than Domain Dynamics but I loved the team and everyone is really nice and supportive”. Your gulped anticipating cruel words that you had grown accustomed to,

Your mother stepped towards you and gently caressed your cheeks. “I am so proud of you. I am sure you made the right decision”.

Her words brought tears to your eyes and you wrapped your arms around her. “I promise I will take good care of you, dad, and ren! You don’t have to worry about anything!”.

“Oh my baby! If you are happy then we are happy!”. She smiled. “When do you have to move to tokyo?”.

“I don’t have to. The firm is right here in Kyoto”.

Taglist: @missybrat @lem-hhn @byakuya61085 @starlightanyaaa @inlove-maze

[oblakaizrecki]

Help me find a story where Satoru marries the reader's friend but cheats on her with the reader on their wedding day (after the party he goes up to the reader's room).

[sttoru]

pls pls pls 🥹 older bf! gojo fucking the attitude out of his gf

 𝝑𝑒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. satoru picks you up after your lecture to spend quality time with you, only to realise you got an attitude that needs some fixing.

tags. dom older bf!gojo x female reader. smut, pwp but also with plot. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). rough. hints of degradation. p in v -> unprotected. standing doggy. semi-public. spanking. hair pulling. name calling. creampīe. nicknames ‘princess, baby’. wc: 3.2k

“mind telling me who that was, baby?” satoru asks while he fixes his sunglasses. he pushes his hair back a little, walking beside you through campus. you had just finished your study session with a boy who’s in your statistics class. your lovely boyfriend offered to pick you up and take you back home after that.

though, despite the kind gesture, you’re still visibly stressed after revising the material. your mind is occupied with all sorts of stuff you need to know before your exam on thursday.

“just a classmate,” you respond curtly, not even looking at satoru. you’re speeding ahead of him, wanting to rush home already. you nibble on your bottom lip and your brows are furrowed due to the distress, “why do you care?”

that sentence came out harsher than you had expected it to. you don’t mean to be bitchy, but you’re under too much stress at the moment. your body reacts before you can withstand it.

satoru is silent for a few seconds. he’s surprised by the tone of voice you used. he keeps on following you, however, not letting your little comment ruin the conversation. he’s there to help you, not to make you even more upset.

which is why he tries to lighten the mood.

“oh?” satoru chuckles, his dimples showing. he easily keeps up with you, his long legs carrying him around quite fast. the white haired man pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear ever so gently, “did someone upset my little princess today?”

you don’t answer him. you’re focused on your phone, hurriedly texting your friend back while speeding past all the other students. you don’t even notice how the girls are gawking at your man—whispering about how handsome he is and who he might be.

satoru doesn’t pay them any mind. his sole goal is to gain your attention back. he frowns after his question is met with silence. the clicking of his dress shoes increases as he tries to get you to stop and face him.

“c’mon,” your boyfriend sighs and stands in front of you, stopping you to an abrupt halt. he holds your wrist tenderly yet firmly, letting you know that he wants to properly communicate with you, “y’ can’t ignore me.”

you yank your hand back, your irritated attitude visible in your actions. you look up at satoru, not caring about what he thinks or wants at the moment. you just want to go home and relax. everything is overstimulating you.

“i can and i will,” you huff before stepping aside to continue your journey out of the university’s terrain. your boyfriend’s frown only deepens. you’re not the only one who’s currently getting agitated. you push past a group of students who stood in your way, “let’s just go home.”

satoru’s eyes narrow. he doesn’t get upset fast—he rarely feels any kind of anger—but right now he can feel something itching inside of his chest. he’s tried not to let the jealousy get the best of him at first, but now with all the other emotions coming into play, it’s nearly impossible to hold himself back.

satoru considers himself a fairly mature man. he’s always been one, yet when it comes to you he can’t help but feel like he doesn’t have any control over his emotions. his body and mind act on their own.

“aht aht. not so fast, little lady.”

you suddenly feel yourself being dragged to the side. satoru’s grip around your arm isn’t harsh, but it sure is enough to make you stumble along with him. you click your teeth in slight annoyance after the initial shock settles in. you know there’s no fighting it; you don’t want others to witness your little squabble.

“hey, where are we going?” you ask, a slight whine leaving your throat. you simply want to go lay in your bed and avoid everything and everyone else. your eyes are focused on the back of satoru’s head as he guides you along. he doesn’t bother to face nor answer you.

you sigh and simply allow yourself to be dragged away. if you’re going to get a scolding, you don’t mind. you’re just going to hear him out and nod along so you can go back home faster.

you raise an eyebrow when satoru arrives at the bathroom on the second floor. “what the—” you’re confused as to what your boyfriend is trying to achieve. you quickly look around to see if anyone has seen you.

no one seems to be close. this part of the building has always been empty around this time frame anyway.

you’re pulled into the men’s bathroom after satoru made sure that the coast was clear. he gently pushes you into an empty stall and locks the door. “satoru, what’s up with you?” you sigh as you stumble back against the bathroom wall. it’s a hypocritical comment considering your own nasty attitude.

you try to push him aside, only for your boyfriend to force your arms around his neck, pulling you flush against him. your eyes lock into his and that’s when you notice how . . dark they are. the usual playful look is nowhere to be found.

“i’m just thinkin’ that y’r attitude needs some fixing, hm?” satoru whispers. a ghost of a smirk appears on his face—it’s a twisted one. wicked, with the thoughts of what he’ll do to punish you for your actions. he rarely has that expression when he’s with you.

he tips your chin up with quite some force, “i can help with that.”

everything else happens at a blink of an eye. one of satoru’s large hands slithers up your back to tangle in your hair and yank it back, exposing the column of your throat for his hickeys to take shape on. his other hand swiftly makes work of your pants and undergarments.

his jaw is clenched—the usual hint of gentle love in his eyes is replaced by lust fuelled by jealousy and frustration. satoru is not playing around either. instead of taking his time like he usually does when it comes to intimacy, he’s quick to discard both your clothing.

“fuckin’ tease,” the white-haired man mutters under his breath, panting with desire. he zips down his pants and frees his big cock from his boxers. “always pushing my buttons. isn’t that right, baby?”

satoru lets out a breathy, mocking chuckle. he fists the shaft slowly while his blue eyes roam over your body caged against him and the wall, “but i guess tha’s part of the reason why i love you—hah.”

you’re basically in shock at the sudden switch. your jaw is slack and your eyes are wide, but there’s an undeniable feeling in your chest that tells you you’re loving this change. you can’t deny the fact that you’re turned on. extremely turned on.

“‘toru, i don’t think it’s smart to do this here,” you murmur in a small voice. you’re trying to have some dignity, even now, when your panties are soaked and the scent of your obvious arousal is driving your man crazy.

“don’t care,” satoru shakes his head with a smug grin. his long fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear before flimsily tugging them down to your ankles. his eyes darken the second he sees the webs of sticky, translucent slick clinging from your panties to your puffy folds.

he grunts, his cock twitching painfully in his hand. he’s thinking of simply jerking off to the sight of you in front of him, but he decided otherwise. satoru smacks your clit with his fat tip, “should’ve thought about that before catchin’ an attitude with me.”

suddenly, he turns you around so you’re facing the wall. your nails dig into the flat surface of the tiles, catching onto nothing. you’re hoping that no one will walk into the bathroom. last thing you need is everyone knowing that you were getting your back blown out by your boyfriend on campus.

not that satoru would mind those rumors. it’d only fuel his (already) huge ego.

“oh, yeah— shit. you need this ‘s much as i do,” satoru groans as sinks his cock into your pussy, agonisingly slow, inch by inch. you shudder and hold in your moans as your velvety walls make part for him.

his hands spread your pert asscheeks, smacking the full globes before kneading them to soothe the pain. he continues in a low, dangerous voice, “you wouldn’t be so stuck up if y’ didn’t need this fuckin’ dick to shut you up.”

satoru doesn’t stop pushing in until his heavy balls are resting snugly against your bottom, warming his sack full of cum that’s aching to be released in your dripping cunt.

“ngh, ‘toru,” you bite your lip and try not to orgasm just from the feeling of being full— so full of cock that it makes you see stars, “just like that.”

the white-haired man responds with a satisfied grunt, sweat forming on his forehead from how hot and wet it is inside of you.

“oh, there she is,” satoru coos once he hears your whiny voice, that sweet voice he cherishes and loves. it isn’t cold nor avoidant anymore like before and that’s really all he wanted to acquire. he licks a stripe from the tip of your ear to the lobe, voice husky, “there’s the girlfriend i know. moan some more f’ me.”

you shiver as satoru’s lips connect with the back of your neck. after wetting the skin with his saliva, he bites. not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave a mark. you clamp around his dick in response and he curses under his breath.

“please, fuck me,” you breathe. you need more stimulation, need him to absolutely ruin you. the shallow and slow thrusts he’s giving are nothing but torturous.

satoru grins and rests his chin on top of your shoulder, large hands rubbing around your hips and lower abdomen, teasing your clit every now and then to get you even more pent up.

“fuck you?” he tilts his head, as if contemplating. he clicks his tongue and gives your ass a firm slap that nearly sends you over the edge. “hah, you should be grateful for what i’m givin’ you.”

but satoru’s weak for you. even if he’s trying to be the ‘mean’ and ‘cold’ dominant guy. his cock is aching to plunge in and out of your wet hole, to see you come undone and feel your juices coat his balls and thighs.

“fine. i’ll fuck you,” satoru relents with a roll of his eyes, acting like he isn’t desperate for you too. he grips your hips in a bruising manner and bites your shoulder, “—fuck you like the brat you are.”

your hands save your face from making contact with the wall as your body suddenly jostles back and forth in a speed you can’t even process.

“satoru!” you nearly scream his name out of pure surprise. the pleasure comes crashing down in waves, your pussy uncontrollably spasming around his girthy cock.

satoru grumbles something incoherent as he pistons his hips, ramming in your sloppy cunt while his eyes are fixated on your bouncing ass. white locks of hair stick to his forehead as he splits you open on his dick.

“so pretty,” the older man sighs. he turns your head sideways so you can look him in the eyes while he fucks you silly. he caresses your cheek gently, a contrast to the mocking grin on his lips and the rough thrusts against your ass, “too bad y’ got such a potty mouth on you.”

satoru pushes his index and middle finger between your lips to muffle your noises, “…but don’t worry, i’ll fix that for you. gladly.”

you eagerly suck on them between quick gasps of air, saliva trickling down his hand. your boyfriend redoubles his efforts, the fat tip of his dick hitting that special spot deep inside you.

his free hand reaches down to circle your clit. the double stimulation sends you into a state of pure bliss. your pupils are dilated as you struggle to find satoru’s gaze, head lolling back and forth with each powerful stroke.

perhaps this really was all you needed to help destress and forget all about your responsibilities. it feels good to not think about anything at all— your head empty except for the feeling of your cunt being filled.

satoru’s cock twitches inside of you with the urge to release a load in your womb. “give me it, please,” your voice is muffled as you plead with him. your hand sneaks downwards, trying to find his balls, “w-want your cum.”

your fingers toy with his sack once you find it. his pre-cum and your own juices now coat your skin as well, your hand enclosing around his balls, massaging them. it’s like you’re trying to coax his potent semen out of them and that alone makes satoru throw his head back in ecstasy.

“little cumslut. . .” satoru growls, brows furrowing as he tries not to shoot his cum inside of your greedy cunt right that second. the hand that was keeping you quiet quickly snatches your wrist and pins it against the bathroom wall.

“are you that desperate to get filled? yeah?” your boyfriend huffs, not stopping to catch his breath at all. his hips pound faster against your ass with renewed passion.

your lips are parted and they move, but not a single answer comes out of your mouth. you’re unable to think or talk because of the pleasure.

satoru takes that as a yes. the erotic sight of you being so lost in sin is enough to fuel his desire to fuck you harder. his hips never falter as he scoffs at your pathetic self, “tch, so addicted to my cock y’ can’t even answer me.”

you shake your head and search for your words. however, you fail, and all that you’re capable of communicating is what you need, “fuuuuck, yes i am—‘toru, need your cock ‘n cum— more.”

satoru lets go of your wrist to grab your jaw. he forces your head back again before he captures your lips in a bruising kiss. his tongue plunders inside your mouth, exploring every inch.

he pulls back to gasp for air and releases your jaw with a slight shove to grab your hips again. “more? hah,” the white-haired man lets out a haughty chuckle. he gives a particular hard thrust against your butt, tip kissing your cervix painfully yet deliciously, “y’ think you deserve more after that shit you pulled?”

satoru yanks your head back by your hair. the stinging sensation makes your scalp itchy, but it also increases your pleasure. he lowers his lips to your ear, his voice dangerously low, “nah, you gotta make this work.”

you could. you can make it work and that’s the truth. he could fuck you with just his tip and you’d be able to cum a couple times in a row.

jolts of pleasure run down your spine as satoru drives into you harder, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body. you’re seeing stars and the words roll off your tongue, “please, mhh, almost there!”

satoru groans. he can feel the delicious fluttering of your cunt around his cock, the telltale signs of an orgasm building. he has half a mind to pull out completely and let you writhe and beg him some more.

he contemplates it for a few seconds. the second your eyes start to roll back, signaling your impending climax, his cock slips out of your pussy. you whine and push your hips back in search for his dick- to fill the void he left.

satoru jerks himself off at the pitiful sight. he rubs his veiny shaft between your slick folds before slapping the tip against your cunt, letting it catch onto your entrance for a few times.

“begging like that isn’t going to get you anywhere. y’ can do better,” your boyfriend encourages in a sultry tone. one of his hands rest on your tummy, fingers splaying over your clothed skin. another filthy smack of his tip against your slit makes you shiver, “come on.”

you bite your lip out of frustration. you arch your back each time the fat head of his cock catches onto your gaping hole, hoping to slip it in, but you can't. you tilt your head back and lock eyes with satoru close up behind you.

“please let me cum, 'toru. i'll be good, i promise,” you beg with a lewd pleading expression. one that make satoru's balls tighten with the urge to cum as well.

with a low groan, satoru snaps his hips forward, burying his dick inside of you once more, “there ya go. good girl, knew y’ had it in you.”

the praise and familiar feeling of his dick stretching you open is enough to push you over the edge. you nearly black out as your cunt spasms around him, your juices gushing out to coat his length and balls.

satoru grits his teeth once he feels your tight cunt clench viciously around his throbbing cock. your orgasm has a domino effect on your lover, causing him to hastily chase his own release. “shit! take it, princess. take it all inside this greedy fuckin' cunt,” he hisses and grinds his pelvis against the fat of your ass.

satoru buries himself to the hilt before his cock jerks and pulses, emptying his balls deep inside of you. his fingers dig into the meat of your butt, holding you in place as he grinds against you, making sure every last drop of his seed is nestled into your waiting womb.

“there y’ go, mhm—taking my load so deep,” your lover sighs and lowers his head, resting against your back. he hugs you tightly to his chest while you both catch your breath. he rides out his orgasm slowly, still grinding against you while he leaves lazy kisses on your nape.

a minute passes before you've regained your composure, somewhat. you smile as satoru kisses your temple lovingly, praising you for taking him so well. the switch back to his usual gentleman personality is much needed after such an intense moment.

“thank you, babe. i needed that,” you giggle as you rest back against his chest. thick, pearly globs of cum escape your pussy, dripping around his cock and onto your thighs, but neither of you could care less. the clean up is a problem for later.

satoru chuckles back at you as he leaves another loving kiss against your cheek. “i knew you did,” he murmurs and pets your head, “my poor girl has been working so hard on her assignments, hm? poor, poor baby.”

you playfully roll your eyes at the overexaggerated concern in your lover's voice, however you appreciate it.

satoru doesn't bother to pull out. first things first; he needs to get you all comfortable again and give you the aftercare you deserve. his hands massage your hips as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, acting all lovey-dovey like he hasn't just shown you a more dominant side of him.

“how ‘bout we go home and order some food? we can cuddle and watch a movie together, ‘kay? i’ll take care of you, princess.”

[tojbnuy]

mini part 4 for gojo day 🧁 next part will probably be the finale. thank you for showing best friend toru so much love even tho he is fairly toxic. art by @ _3aem on twt!! part one part two part three

warnings: a very vague birthday bj, some feelings? MDNI

birthdayboybestfriend!satoru who waits with his phone in his hand ignoring all his other messages and skipping to your contact because he knows you’ll say it at bang on midnight. he is then smiling so hard at his phone suguru actually gets worried.

bestfriend!satoru who obviously has party of the century going on at his place. being the star boy he is, he is soaking up the attention. however he has been dyingggg for your arrival, he makes sure to tell every girl that approaches him that he is booked and busy for today.

bestfriend!satoru who tackles you into a massive hug when he sees you and picks you up just to make sure everyone else sees this. you’re wearing white (his favourite) and he knows for a fact you did that on purpose.

bestfriend!satoru who disregards everyone else’s presents for the time being so he can give you and your presents his full attention. unfortunately he is nosy and had scrolled through your google tab last week so he already knew what two of them were going to be.

bestfriend!satoru who (staying true to character) asks you for a birthday kiss. ‘can i have my last present now baby?’ and then he’s pressed up against you and his familiar taste is all you can take in. ‘toru people can see us’ ‘let them see baby’

bestfriend!satoru who wraps your ponytail around his fist whilst you’re talking. sometimes even pulling you back a bit so he can take a long inhale at your neck.

bestfriend!satoru who is actually very annoyed that he got a hot tub because now there were multiple gawking at you. suguru even wolf whistles at you at one point just to rile him up and he got a mouthful of tub water because of it.

bestfriend!satoru who catches you whispering to suguru and finds he definitely does not like the look of that. you had a worried expression which he made a mental note of to ask suguru about later.

bestfriend!satoru who casually gropes at your chest. (you allow him of course) (however you put an end to it when his fingers start to creep into the material of the lace covering your breasts.) (there were simply too many people present but satoru was content with just holding your tit) (stressball >__<)

bestfriend!satoru who makes his closest friends go round the tub and say what they like about him most. suguru is the only one who gives him a slightly heartfelt message, sukuna calls him ugly, toji calls him an airhead, nanami says he is ‘special’ (whatever that means?), shoko says he makes her want to smoke. and then it’s your turn and gojo actually tears up at your beautiful words. your voice and your eyes staring only ever at him saying that he is your person and you really do think he the strongest individual you know. (then he grabs your face and kisses you and the crowd boos until he stops)

bestfriend!satoru who is dead set on you staying with him for the night. ‘you’re not gonna cuddle your best friend on his birthday?’ and how could you everrrr say no to that.

bestfriend!satoru who has his head on your chest, you hands running through his hair and scratching at your scalp. his thighs are covering yours and he lazily kisses at your collarbone. the tension in the room is thick. you can both feel it. it was simply a game of who would move first. satoru knew you wouldn’t, always the more timid and shy one of the two so he took it upon himself to drag his fingers across the waistband of your shorts. ‘wait toru we can’t i’m, i’m your friend?’ god you were too sweet for this earth. ‘it’s okay baby. we don’t have to, but no one’s gonna know. just us.’ and he litters even more feather light kisses to the spot right below your ear until you were letting out soft little sighs. ‘then. then i want to do it, yk since it’s your birthday.’ he knew you weren’t the most conventional best friends but this, this was further than anything you’d ever done before. and he was on cloud nine.

bestfriend!satoru who was now realizing that he had never experienced true joy before this moment. before he had felt your velvet soft lips wrapped around his tip. your tongue licking at his crown so softly, so sweetly. he’s always been a moaner but now he had no shame in the sounds that were leaving him. ‘that’s it baby, just like that. that’s my girl’.

bestfriend!satoru who was a head pusher. he let you set the pace in the beginning but he was growing desperate, something he hadn’t experienced before. your little mewls as he holds you in place right at the base of his dick. your nose nestled against the faint hairs there, and your tears dropping directly into his skin. he had given you the chance to move but being the amazing best friend that you were you swallowed everything he gave you, even opened wide and let him take a look, that to make sure. ‘fuck baby that was the best gift ever’

bestfriend!satoru who snores like a truck directly into your ears and grinds his hips into your thighs whilst he sleeps.

taglist : @haruhatake @moncher-ire @startwithrecords @ranatherealestsigma @chjinua @sukuxna0 @suechii @whozeurdaddy @purp1eha1o @greensunflowerjuna @jjkysnk @tibibibi123 @missthatgirl @macchiatoast @adanfore @namjooningera @jaeminsmilk @tojicvmslut @hachichann

[lymtw]

The frustration that Satoru feels when he completely stops seeing you as just one of his best friends.

You’re so pretty, modeling the dress you’ll be wearing on your date with some guy who probably dims in comparison to you. Suguru says you should try the outfit without the cardigan, so you take it off for a second and do a little 360 for the trio. Shoko gasps when she sees the lacy details that were hidden by the coat and Suguru claps in validation. “You’re so gonna get some.”

Satoru just watches, cheek resting in his fist as he half listens to the little debate between Shoko and Suguru. It’s all a blur as he focuses on the one glowing in front of him.

“Satoru?” You wave your hand in front of him.

“Hm?” He blinks up at you, acting like he wasn't zoned out while staring.

“Tie-breaker. Coat or no coat?”

He had heard what Suguru said when you took the cardigan off. 'You’re so gonna get some.'

He doesn’t want that.

“You should stay layered. You might get cold later.”

Suguru groans in disapproval, falling back into the couch cushion, while Shoko grins, smugly, at her small victory.

“Coat it is.” You smile, running back to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

“You like her, huh?” Suguru asks as soon as you’re out of sight, a squint of betrayal in his eyes.

“Pfft, nah. What makes you think that?” Satoru defends.

“She asked for our opinion on the dress and you went silent," Shoko says, throwing a knowing smirk at Satoru.

“You don’t want her to get laid or something? Why’d you vote for the granny cardigan?” Suguru adds, arms crossed over his chest.

“I want to see you take care of her when she’s sick. I did it last time, and she was unbearable. Also,” he turns to answer Shoko’s remark, “what can I say? I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“A lot of her on your mind.” Suguru nods over at you.

Satoru turns, a lucent gleam in his eyes when he sees you.

“Alright, guys. I’ll be back before-“

“Don’t rush!” Shoko says, giggling at the dopey look on Satoru’s face.

There’s a smirk tugging on Suguru’s lips. “Have fun.”

“Call if you need me to pick you up," Satoru blurts, sitting up straight on the lounge chair he was seated in.

Shoko gasps and Suguru’s eyes go wide for a second.

“Uh... sure. Will do. Love you guys, bye!” You walk past your friends, opening the front door and shutting it behind you.

Your perfume had some effect on Satoru because for some reason his heart was racing and he was unable to calm it down.

“What?” Satoru asks when he notices the way his friends look at him. “I’m the only one with a car here.”

“Uh-huh, let’s put it that way," Shoko says, sharing a menacing look with Suguru.

—

You did end up having to call Satoru. Your date was the most annoying, insufferable person you had ever met and you weren't going to pretend like you were enjoying your time with him for the rest of the night. How can someone be so different the moment you’re alone together? You couldn’t stand him, so you excused yourself from the table and went to the restroom halfway through your meal.

You called Satoru, hoping he wasn't kidding about calling him if you needed a ride home.

“Hey, uh, I know this is really inconsiderate of me, but can you come pick me up from the restaurant? If you can’t it’s totally fine. I’ll stay.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. It turns out I can’t stand this guy.” You chuckle, your hand reaching for the sensor beneath the water faucet, the cool water running through your fingers. "He's gross and just... I don't know."

“Did he do anything to you? Are you okay? ‘Cause, you know, I can kick his ass.”

“You already asked me that, 'toru. I’m okay. He’s just…” you pause, a sigh filling in the silence, “...different from what I remember. I don’t know this guy.”

Satoru is already sitting in his car. The moment you asked him to pick you up, he grabbed his keys and headed for the car.

“Give me ten minutes.”

“It takes twenty to get here.”

“Too bad. I’m running a few red lights. Sit tight.”

“Sa-”

The call ends and you’re left staring at the contact photo you have for him. You turn your screen off and stare into the mirror. You don’t know if you should stay in the bathroom until Satoru gets there or if you should go back out to the man waiting for you.

—

“So, Satoru likes her, huh?” Shoko says, leaning back in the lounge chair Satoru sat in before.

“Who would have guessed? We’ve all been friends for years and he’s never looked at her like that.”

“We should invest in some noise cancelling headphones. Who knows what could happen after tonight?”

Suguru furrows his eyebrows in confusion, so Shoko grins and demonstrates. She rocks back and forth in the old lounge chair, the chair creaking and squealing.

“Oh.” Suguru’s face further scrunches. He didn't need the image of his friends doing that together, in his mind.

—

Your phone vibrates on the sink, and Satoru’s name appears on the screen when you flip it. You quickly answer the call.

“Hey, i’m outside.”

“How do I walk out of here without seeming like a bitch? I didn’t think this through.”

“First, walk out the restaurant doors. Then, get in my car. It’s pretty simple, honestly.”

“We haven’t paid the bill.”

“Fuck it. Let him pay.”

“That’s just wrong. Alright, i’ll be out in a bit. Bye.”

“Bye.”

You sum up all the courage you have and walk out of the bathroom. Once you reach the table, you pull out some cash you have just laying around in your purse, like forty-something bucks, and set it down in the middle of the table.

“Hopefully that’s enough to cover half of it.”

“Where are you going?” Your date asks.

“To keep it polite, I have to go. Have a good rest of your night.”

You walked out of the restaurant, immediately spotting Satoru’s blue Camaro.

The second you get in, you make yourself comfortable, removing your heels and taking down your hair from its updo.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru asks, when you don’t say anything.

“It’s fine. This guy just wasn’t the one.”

Satoru’s chest feels tight now that you’re in the car. The smell of your perfume has returned and you’re glowing in the moonlight. It makes him think of the effort you put into looking the way you do, and how you ended up having to hide in the bathroom.

“Do you wanna go home?”

You’re looking in the sun visor mirror, bobby pins in your mouth as you fix your hair so that it’s not in your face once Satoru starts driving.

“Mm… whatever you want to do,” you say, muffled by the pieces of metal pressing into your lips.

It wouldn’t be whatever he wants to do, though. All he wants to do is kiss you, right now. Do something to soothe the ache you must be feeling.

“Why are you acting like this?” He asks, watching you as you place another pin in your hair.

You laugh through your nose, a bobby pin still between your lips. You put it in your hair before answering.

“Like what?” You look at him while you put your seatbelt on.

“Like this doesn't bother you. You don't have to put up a front, you know? I'm not gonna laugh at you."

The metal clicks, and you fold the sun visor back up. “Because it didn’t bother me. I’m not gonna settle for someone I hate being around."

Part of Satoru wanted this to go well for you. He wanted to see a brilliant smile on your face when you got home. So, the fact that it didn’t end up that way strangely caused some heartache for him.

“Don’t look so down.” You give him a kind smile and pinch his cheek. “I’m okay. Really.”

He tries to distract himself from the warmth that seeps into his cheeks from your quick gesture. “Well, I don’t want to go home. Is that okay, with you?”

“What’s up with you?” You ask, bringing one of your legs up and folding it comfortably on the seat.

“Nothing.”

You stare at him until he breaks out his contagious smile and laugh.

“Really, nothing. I just want to spend some time out tonight. Shoko and Suguru want to stay home and be couch potatoes."

You see your date walking out of the restaurant, phone against his ear. He doesn’t look too defeated, but you don’t want him to see you with Satoru and make any bold assumptions.

“Okay, that’s totally fine, but can we go?” Your leg goes back down, meeting the floor mat and you turn to face the window.

Satoru analyzes your behavior and your expression. Your arms are crossed, you refuse to look in his direction again. It’s weird compared to how you were acting two seconds ago.

“What?” Satoru turns to look at whatever made you shrink, and as soon as he sees him he rolls his window up. “Really?” His eyes are lidded in disappointment. It’s not in you as a person, but in your lack of respect for yourself, choosing someone so far below your league.

“He was nice when I first met him.”

Satoru puts the gear in reverse, backing out of the parking spot. “He looks stupid and on top of that he acts like it, too? God.”

“I know, I know.” You lean against the car door and stare out the window.

“What made you think you deserved him? Honestly, I can’t wrap my head around how low this is for someone like you.”

“I don’t know.”

Your responses to Satoru's interrogation kept getting shorter and shorter and he realized he was beating a horse that was already down.

“You know I care," he mumbles, breaking the heavy silence. “I don’t mean to tell you who to date and who you should be with.”

“I hate this conversation. You’re not my dad, Satoru. It’s fine.” You sit up, back against the seat and face forward. “Where are we, anyway?”

“I just followed a random road to see where it would lead. I don’t wanna go home, but I also don’t want to know where I am.”

“So, we’re lost.” You laugh.

“Hey, as long as we have phones with enough battery, we’re not really lost.”

“Right.” You grin, continuing to watch the road. You look over the steering wheel to see how much gas the car has. It’s two marks below the bold F.

“Can you tell me something?”

You turn to Satoru, giving him your full attention. He’s been more serious than you know him to be since you left the house.

“What’s up?”

“I’m not trying to rehash this father-like conversation, but as one of your best friends… what were you thinking when you accepted a date with this guy?” He glances over at you for a second. “What went through your mind when you said 'yes' to a date with him?”

“Potential love, dates, butterflies. All the stuff that goes into getting to know someone as more than an acquaintance or friend.” You fidget with the extra hair tie on your wrist.

“You want all of that?” He asks, glimpsing at you again.

You nod, silently.

“You’re pretty enough to fuck around with whoever you want, you know? I know some people who wanna do some pretty... vulgar things with you."

Your eyes go wide at how far south the conversation went. You cracked the second you looked at Satoru though. He looked somewhat proud to be friends with someone who could get some anytime.

“That’s… good to know, I guess.” Your mind stumbles over the part where he called you pretty enough.

“You’re not interested in that, though, are you?”

You wince, jokingly. “It’s just not my cup of tea. I want something more long-term.”

Satoru grins, almost like he wants to talk about himself.

“That’s not your cup of tea, is it?” You reciprocate the grin.

“No, no. Believe it or not, the last relationship I was in lasted a whole two months.”

You slapped the car door dramatically. “A whole two months?!”

“Stop it. It’s nothing, really," Satoru jokes, grinning with faux pride.

“Hey, i’m not shaming you. You’re not down with commitment and that’s fine. We're young. There's no need to rush."

“I haven’t found someone I really want to commit to. I'm not stupid enough to ignore the fact that people are really only attracted to my body. They can't stand when I open my mouth, so I figured it’s better to fuck around than to put my heart into something that won’t last without sex.”

Satoru's personality was for people with acquired taste. On the other hand, Satoru's physical appearance was for anyone and everyone. The people who could appreciate all of him would be in for the most amazing ride, because even as his friend, you could confidently say that there is no one like him anywhere in the world. You can only hum in acknowledgement of how romantically lonely he must feel.

“What?” You ask when the car stops. Satoru puts the car in park before turning it off. “We’re not out of gas, so what’s the problem?”

He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to face you, one leg bent on the seat. He’s met with a breathtaking sight. You look stunning in that navy blue dress, and that shade smeared over your lips was calling his name. He can see part of your thigh from where your dress rides up.

“Can I talk to you about something?” The tension behind the question was enough to make your ears go red.

“Of course you can. You’re scaring me, but go on.”

He smiles, trying to lighten up the mood. He knows better than to just dump information like this on you so heavily, but he can't go home tonight without telling you how he feels. He already doesn’t expect much to come of telling you this, but it's been eating him alive and he can't keep it in anymore.

“You've been on my mind a lot, lately." He sees your slightly furrowed eyebrows. They match the unintentional pout on your lips. You’re confused and for some reason you feel nervous, like your heart might escape your ribcage.

“What does that mean?” You ask, wanting a clearer understanding. He could be worried about you in a totally platonic way. He could be wondering about what you've been up to lately. You're having trouble assuming there's romantic notes to his statement after the brief discussion you just had.

“It's exactly as it sounds. I've been thinking about you." He's not smiling, he's not laughing yet this still sounds like a joke that he’s running to mess with you.

“You done with your jokes? We could both be home right about now," you say, not intending for your words to come out as sharp as they did. His hand is suddenly cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a speck of glitter from it.

“You say goodnight to me in the sweetest way—like you won't see me in the morning. And the soft smile you give me before you shut the door... it lingers in my mind. I dream of it from time to time."

You're trying so hard not to lean into his touch and nuzzle your cheek into his palm, but you make no effort to push his hand away. “What are you talking about, Satoru? Don't you think you're reading into it a little too much? I do that for all three of you. Ask Shoko and Suguru.”

His hand has been on your cheek for a while now, and he’s still looking at you like he has things to get off his chest. “I know you don't say it the same way to them as you do to me." He stops, a little sigh leaving him. He’s probably making you dizzy with all of this news, based on the look on your face. He retracts his hand and rests it on his thigh. You look stunned, so he cuts to the chase. “To be even more clear, I don’t see you as a friend. It doesn’t seem right to see you that way when I can picture us doing more. Being more."

“Doing more?” You repeat, cheeks growing warm.

“Holding hands, kissing, being alone together—more.”

The heavy silence returns, both of you nervously avoiding eye contact.

“I..." you huff. "I need some air.” You unbuckle yourself before exiting the car. Your scent remains in the car even after the door shuts behind you, leaving Satoru to wonder if things are screwed with you.

Your back is against the door, your hands interlocked in front of your eyes, shielding you from the gentle moonlight. You groan, irritated by the conflicted thoughts that came with Satoru's revelation.

It’s not long before Satoru comes out and joins you, leaning on the side of his car. It's cold and he doesn't want you to get sick again. His heart could barely handle your involuntarily weak display the first time.

“I didn’t stress you out, did I?” He asks, turning his head to look at you. You shake your head, your hands still covering your eyes. “There’s really no part of you that can envision an us between me and you?”

You chuckle, a sound that makes his heart pang. “It’s funny... you know, a long time ago it was all I dreamed about.”

Now this was baffling news to Satoru. How long ago was a long time ago? A couple months ago? Last year? Three years ago? And why didn’t you say anything?

“I considered you a pursuit that was out of reach. You had—have— all these girls just throwing themselves at you, and I couldn’t be one of them, so I befriended you instead.”

“How long ago was a long time ago?” He asks, nervous to hear the answer.

“Like last year in March. It was during your phase where you would never come home.”

He feels like an asshole. Especially since not too much later, he developed similar feelings for you that he endlessly denied.

“You liked the me you never got to see?”

You both chuckled at the rhyme of his words, your broken senses of humor adding some lightheartedness to the conversation.

“I guess you not coming home was more calming because I didn't have to be nervous to see you.”

You crossed your arms. The cardigan protected you, but not enough. The cold wind was starting to nip at your cheeks. Satoru notices and moves closer to you.

“Let’s go back inside, yeah?”

You didn’t want to. You were nervous being “stranded” with Satoru already, but minimizing the space between you was even more nerve-wracking. He was your greatest temptation before, and you could easily create those labyrinths that guide him into your mind again if you got close enough.

“I’ll be fine," you say, looking straight ahead at the field of weeds in front of you.

“You’re gonna catch a cold. Get in the car," Satoru prompts. He thought back to the tired look on your face as you laid in bed sick, waiting for him to bring you warm soup.

“No," you insisted, turning away from him.

He inched closer, not wanting to look at your back. “Please, get in the car." He thought of the gracious look on your sick face when he brought you another blanket to keep you warm.

“I said no, Satoru. I don't want to get in the car with you."

You were being stubborn as hell, and something about it made Satoru’s blood boil to the point where he did whatever his mind told him to do. You were suddenly pinned to the car, your hands on Satoru’s chest to keep some distance. He blocked every gust of wind that threatened to bite at your skin, and enveloped you in his warmth. You don’t know how, but in this freezing temperature, Satoru’s hands felt like sunlight on your cheeks. His face was centimeters away from yours, his bright eyes searching for a loophole in your feelings for him. Your eyes spoke with an infinite amount of possibility, and some of it didn't make sense, so he kissed you in hopes of translating what you were trying to say.

You didn’t have any fight left in you. Not when you felt so secure in this close proximity. Now, all you wanted was to be in the car with him, alone.

The kiss was released with light breaths from both of you, a look of feeling complete on Satoru’s face. “Will you get in the damn car,” he whispers, his arms caging you against the car.

“Say please," you say in the same intimate volume as him.

“Please," he complies, allowing his eyes to flit between your eyes and your lips.

“Pretty please?" you push.

“Pretty please," he says, the corners of his lips twitching.

“How about pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“Get in the car," he says through a laugh.

You chuckle, shoving him lightly before opening the door and entering the car. Satoru gets in the drivers seat and suddenly it all feels strange. Strange, but in the best way.

The tension from before returns. There's no wind blowing to fill in the silence when you both stop talking.

“Do you ever think of me when you're alone?” It was a weird question to be asked by him, especially since you had already told him that your feelings for him were left behind.

“Never," you reply, a softness in your tone that held memories of when all you thought about was Satoru.

He's somewhat disappointed, seeing as though there's a chance he might be too late.

“Do you think that will change after tonight?” He seems to be getting closer, or at least his hands are. Your skin is irresistible and he wants to feel how soft you are. He's been craving you for so long, and you're right there.

“There’s no way to tell.” You can see how slowly his hand is traveling. A minute ago it was on his lap, now it’s on the armrest between your seats. You can’t wait any longer. The suspense might make you jump out of the car again, so you grab his hand and put it on your thigh, where your dress rides up.

“I’ll throw the question back to you. Do you think of me when you're alone?” You ask him now because he won’t give you some bullshit response at a time like this, when he’s getting everything he’s wanted for who knows how long.

“All the time,” he responds so quickly. “When I wake up, before I go to sleep, in the shower, while I brush my teeth.” There’s this foolish look on his face, like he would give anything to never lose the ability to have you on his mind all the time. "You're in there, organizing the shrine I made for you," he admits, with a grin. His thumb presses into your thigh, massaging the plush skin. It makes you nervous as hell, but you like it.

“Have you told Suguru and Shoko?”

He chuckles, remembering the conversation he had with them after you left. “I’m positive they know."

Once again, you're left staring at each other in silence, drowning in the tension you’ve created within yourselves. Satoru has yet to move his hand away from your thigh, not letting up even when he feels goosebumps spread on your skin. He tests the boundaries you have set up, finding no resistance from you when his hand reaches further up your dress.

“You’re not gonna tell me to stop?” He asks as his fingers are met with lace, a texture that makes his heart thud rapidly in his chest.

You shake your head, leaning back in the seat. His fingers ghost over the front of your panties, finding a satin bow just below the elastic band.

“Were you going to let that guy touch you? Is that why you wore these?” He hasn’t even seen them, and yet he can tell they’re the cutest thing ever.

“Maybe," you mumble, looking away in slight embarrassment.

“Can I see them?” He asks.

You nod, allowing him to slowly pull up your dress. Your heart drops when you hear him gasp.

“God, no way," he says, sounding defeated. His ears slowly turn a bright shade of red as he observes the material covering your intimate area.

“Stop,” you whine, feeling flustered by his reaction and the way he stares.

His hand returns to its previous spot, continuing to play with the part of the elastic that sticks to your hip.

“You wear these types of panties on every date you go on?”

You nod, biting your lip as his fingers move just to feel the fabric. His touch is still ghost-like—light, barely there, but it’s working you up anyway. There’s barely enough friction, yet you can feel your wetness begin to ruin the garment.

He sighs. “You know, no one deserves you.” His tone is smooth and he smiles at you, an angel taking control of his features. “Not even me, but I can make up for the one who missed you tonight.”

He spares his attention to the spot in the middle of your panties, only smiling when a breathy moan involuntarily leaves you.

“God..." you groan in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands. "I can’t with myself."

His thumb rubs up and down your clothed slit, applying pressure when he reaches your clit.

“Don’t be shy. Make as much noise as you want,” he says, luring a gasp from you.

You look away again, red-faced, feeling embarrassed beyond belief.

“What?” A low chuckle follows. His hands settle on your thighs as he leans in and tries to look at your flustered face.

“This is weird.” You look out the window, too nervous to look at Satoru.

“How come?”

You giggle. “I can’t stop seeing you as one of my friends. It’s strange to experience something like this with you.”

“I would hope Suguru and Shoko aren’t touching you like this.” His hand splays on your thigh, kneading softly. “Are they?” He asks, after a pause.

“Of course not.”

He seems satisfied with that response because he’s trying to hold back a smile, but the corners of his lips are twitching. His fingers snap the elastic band of your panties against your skin a couple more times.

“Is it too weird to go on?” He asks.

You consider the facts. He already touched you, he confessed his feelings for you before he touched you so you know he wasn't lying about his feelings for you and he doesn’t just want sex. You had those feelings for him before, but claimed to have lost them with time.

Your overwhelming thoughts are enough to put an end to what was going on. You pull down your dress, hiding the evidence of his touch, and sit up straight in the seat. “Maybe we should head home before we do something we might regret later.”

He hums and smiles, not an ounce of disappointment in his features. “No argument from me."

Satoru put his seatbelt on and watched as you did the same before starting the car. There was no need for him to set up the GPS because all he did was drive straight, so all he had to do was drive back the other way.

You didn’t expect the car ride to be so quiet. Maybe he did want things to go further. You couldn’t bear to look back at Satoru, even though you could feel him side eyeing you as he drove. There were a couple times where he turned his head to look at you when you stopped at red lights, but you knew you couldn’t look back until you had something to say. You were overthinking everything that happened until that point. What can you say when you just went through an entire roller coaster of emotions with someone you call a best friend? Someone who has now seen you in a vulnerable position.

“Did you at least eat?” Satoru asks, finally breaking the heavy silence that engulfed the car.

“Uh, yeah. I was able to get through my meal," you respond, glancing at him quickly before turning back to face the window.

He nods in acknowledgement. You see the stop sign at the end of your street, signaling the closeness of home.

Satoru parks the car in the driveway, and you finish removing your shoes. You enter the house, expecting to see Suguru and Shoko up waiting for you guys, but to your surprise, the doors to their bedrooms are shut.

“Goodnight, Satoru," you say. “Thanks again, for picking me up.”

“Yeah, no worries,” he responds. “Goodnight.”

You can’t shake the void left in your gut after your time with Satoru. You sit on your bed for a moment thinking of the intimacy that occurred between you and him. The gentleness of his touch, the lack of judgement from him when you basically told him that you dress your best even for scumbags. Something inside you was begging you to tell him how much you wanted him to sleep in your room—in your bed. And that’s exactly what you aimed for with this rush of adrenaline that surged through you. You rose off the bed quickly, and made haste to reach his bedroom.

You knocked, calling his name once. Once was all it took for him to leap to open the door.

“Can you help me with something?” You asked, hoping he held no ill will towards you and that he wouldn’t deny you.

“Sure. With what?”

You motion for him to follow you to your room, and he does with no further questions, following your bare feet as you lead him to your room.

“I tied the knot for my dress a little too tightly." You let out a quiet chuckle, your nervousness imbued into it.

“Oh, I see," he says, stifling a grin. "Turn around.” His finger circles in the air.

You turn your back to him, facing the mirror on your vanity. You can feel his knuckles grazing your lower back as he takes the time to slowly loosen the knot, the straps that once sat wrapped around your waist dropping loosely.

“There,” he murmurs, still standing behind you, looking at you through the mirror.

“Thank you,” you say so quietly that it’s almost a whisper.

Normally, that is the cue for someone to leave, but there was this branch of electricity connecting him to you. He couldn’t find a reason to step away from you, so instead he stepped closer. His arms encircled your waist, his hands interlocking above your lower abdomen. Your stomach swarmed with butterflies—blood thirsty ones that knew all too well that they wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, so long as Satoru was in your room.

He leaned in to kiss your shoulder, an act that brought goosebumps to your skin. "You look really pretty." You give in to the feeling, tilting your head to give him the entire canvas of that side of your neck. He wondered if you would be upset if you saw his kisses on your neck in the morning.

He stops and looks for your approval first because he has arrived centimeters behind the line between friends who are really comfortable with each other and something deeper. You have to let him know that it’s okay to cross this line.

“It’s okay,” you say, squeezing the hands that rest on your lower abdomen. “Don't stop."

That’s the green light he needed in order to move on. He did not hesitate at all in pulling back his arms and undoing the knot that held your dress up. He watched as the smooth velvet cascaded down your body, pooling at your feet, leaving you in nothing but those precious lace panties. You felt vulnerable with your bare chest out, but made no attempt to hide yourself.

He was frozen for a second or two, speechless at the sight before him.

“No one deserves you,” he finally says, his arms snaking around your torso. His lips start leaving behind their marks on the other side of your neck. He drags his kisses down your shoulder, biting once, then twice, resulting in a couple giggles from you.

“Close the door, please,” you say, realizing Shoko and Suguru would see what was happening if they opened their doors.

Satoru releases you only to close the door, locking it for safe measures. As soon as he’s back, he’s wrapping his arms around you before pushing both of you towards your bed. He starts stripping his clothes off, until he's left in just his boxers. His eyes never leave yours, a lovestruck smile on his face.

“You will never know how many times I’ve dreamt of this scenario."

“Stop.” You giggle, withstanding the sting of his lips on more than you neck. It’s heat on your chest and on your stomach now, his hands holding your waist so gently. You’ll look like some abstract piece of art by morning with the endless waves of kisses that Satoru gives you. He wants you so badly. Devastatingly so. He wants to prove that he is the closest to deserving you by the end of the night.

Your heartbeat is inconsolable in your ribcage. The eye contact brought some reality to the situation. He chuckles at the doe-eyed look on your face before refocusing on his task. He's nearing the elastic band of your underwear, those cute lacy ones he got to touch in the car. His touch is already affecting you, the evidence being a wet spot reemerging in the middle of your underwear.

"You're so warm and soft, and..." he sighs, your body making his mind cloud. He couldn't have ever accurately imagined how stunning you would be with just the golden street lamp's light shining through your window. "...you smell really fucking good." His hands go beneath the elastic band of your underwear, dragging his dainty fingers through your slit enough times to earn a small gasp from you, before pulling his hand out. "Bet you taste amazing, too," he says, wrapping his lips around his glossy digits. "Mhm..." he practically moans when your taste coats his tastebuds. "Sweeter than I could have ever imagined."

You don't think you'll get over Satoru saying these explicit things to you.

"More. Fuck, I need more." There's so much he wants to do to you, so little time in the night despite it only being 11:30. "God, you're so..." he cuts himself off and kisses down your stomach, impatiently—desperately. "...so pretty. So—fuck— so pretty. Gonna make you feel so good."

"Okay, 'toru, make sure to breathe," you tease, running your fingers through his soft locks as he nears your throbbing core.

He drags his nose up and down the wet patch of your panties, audibly inhaling your scent and exhaling through shuddered breaths. He sounds feral, his aching cock creating its own pool of arousal in his boxers. The tip of his nose was covered in your slick, the remnants of you on his skin driving him absolutely crazy. Once he absolutely couldn't take it anymore, he yanked your underwear down, almost tearing the pretty fabric and tossed it onto the floor. You were soaked at the sight of his pure lust towards you. Those eyes were darker than you've ever seen them before.

He tries to be slow and gentle for you. You're the one thing he's wanted for the longest time and now he has you. You're not guaranteed to be his forever, after this, but at least the night is secured and he has this one chance to prove that he would do it right with you. That he could handle your body with a tenderness and loving that would make you weep. Everything you want in a lover will be given to you in one act of demonstrating how undeniably in love with you he is.

His attempt at slow sensuality never reaches you. His arms are hooked tightly around your thighs to prevent you from squirming away from his greedy mouth. He wants everything you give him to never end. The melodic sound of you moaning his name, the sweet nectar that just keeps drooling out of your cunt, the sting on his scalp from the firm hold you have on his hair and the tugging. He's in heaven. If the possibility of this reoccurring is nonexistent, he wants this moment to loop. For there to be a glitch in real life that allows him to replay this scenario as many times as he likes, like a story with multiple endings.

"You taste so good. So fucking good, princess. Wanna give you a taste," he rambles. He unwraps his right arm from your thigh and uses his forearm to pin it down so that he can use his fingers on you. He bends all his fingers down except for his index and middle fingers. Your slick is already streaming out of you, ready to be collected, but he can't resist the urge to dip his fingertips into your pulsing hole. "Oh fuck, you're so wet," he utters in awe, quickly tossing the idea of just his fingertips going in when his long, lithe fingers sink into you with ease.

"Satoru," you choke out, a sharp gasp following. The pads of his fingers brush against that spot within you that forces you to bite your lip. Your heart is racing. What if you get caught? How would you explain what's going on to your friends and would the dynamic of your living situation change because of it? You care, but clearly not enough to second guess this moment again, like you did in the car.

"Mmm..." he moans against your clit, his lips smacking after releasing the now throbbing bundle. "So sweet." He pulls his fingers out of you and admires the glaze that drips down to his knuckles. He wants to be selfish and put them in his mouth, but his need for you to know how good you are to his tastebuds overpowers those thoughts. "Open, pretty," he says, tapping his wet fingers against your lips. He watches with parted lips as you take his slick coated digits into your mouth, shutting your lips around them to completely suck off your essence. "Good, huh?" A pleased grin appears when you nod. "Yeah... I want it back." He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and puts them on your right breast, smearing your saliva all over your nipple until it pebbles.

All you can do is say "huh?" before your lips are enveloped by his. The kiss starts out slow— he's taking a moment to appreciate how perfect your lips feel against his. For a minute you can feel the way he innocently wants you. You have butterflies in your stomach all over again.

His hunger for you grows with every sharp breath you release and the squirming beneath his unrelenting hands on your chest. Your heart has been pounding in your ears since he slipped his tongue into your mouth and you have goosebumps from all the rubbing, brushing, and tweaking he offers your nipples, the throbbing in your cunt only intensifying as you withstand it. He thinks the whimpers that seep into your kisses are the cutest sounds ever and he doesn't want them to stop, so he glides a hand down your abdomen and gives you the touch you're missing.

You break the kiss, throwing your head back into the pillow at the feeling of Satoru rubbing your clit. He watches through gleaming eyes the way your jaw hangs and allows the sweetest moans to spill from your kissed up lips.

"Feeling good?" He asks, grinning when you respond with a moan that makes you clasp a hand over your mouth. "Yeah? That's an answer, too." He chuckles, watching intently as you crumble beneath his touch, not some zero's who made a fool out of himself.

You uncover your mouth, your sounds amplifying and flowing freely. "Satoru," you gasp. "Oh, fuck– S-Satoru!" The last words you manage to cry out before you cum without a warning.

You look way too pretty arching your back off the bed and chasing friction from his hand. Your neck looks palpable like that, exposed for him like you want him to mark it up and take a few bites.

"Let me make you feel good, pretty girl," he coos, drunk off the cute sounds of the heaves and sobs that wrack through your chest, your little whines shining through them. Lustful, lidded eyes watch as you try to wriggle away from his touch.

"P-Please," you huff out, your trembling thighs working to shut around his hand. It's too much, your peak has passed and now you're left to bear the overwhelming feeling of his unstopping fingers.

"I know, I know. It's terrible..." he murmurs. His tip is leaking so much at the sight of your body jerking and your eyes welling with tears. He really loves the way you've surrendered yourself to him. "You're so pretty." He sighs, dreamily. He stops and wiggles his hand out of the tight embrace of your thighs. You take a deep breath and blink away tears, focusing on the comforting movement of his hands caressing your thighs. He can see the way you look at his body. His chest, the sculpted muscles of his abdomen, the pale happy trail that leads to a part of him that you are unfamiliar with.

He crawls over you, his lower body wedged between your legs. "Don't be scared to touch," he says, his tone sultry. He grabs ahold of your hand and places it on his chest, initiating the contact for you. You take control and allow your hands to roam his body. Like you're in a room full of random unpressed buttons, you explore the different reactions you get from touching different parts of him. You discovered that his nipples are sensitive. He groaned into your neck when you palmed at his pecs and borderline whimpered when you focused your touch on his peaks. He shuddered when you traced along his ribs, but once you neared his stomach and waist, things got hot for you all over again. Your heart raced as he breathed into your neck due to the feeling of your nails gently scratching along his abs. He was rutting his clothed bulge against your cunt, desperate, low moans leaving him with every graze of your nails along his waist.

"F-Fuck, I can't wait anymore. Please, let me in." He whips out the cutest puppy eyes you've ever seen, and though they're unnecessary, you're not opposed to him having to resort to those means.

"Y-Yeah, okay," you breathe, feeling the throbbing in your cunt intensify when he stopped rolling his hips against you.

He's rushing, his movement stuttered and his hands shaking with desperation as he works his boxers off. He's impressed with the amount of precum that went into them, but he doesn't waste time admiring the mess any longer once he frees his achingly hard, drooling cock. It's sensitive to the touch. He'll cum if he doesn't play his cards right while lathering his length with the essence that beads at his tip. With that taken care of, he comes close to you again.

"This is gonna be the slowest start ever," he says under his breath, eyeing that sweet little smile on your face, like you understand the turmoil he's going through with just trying to get inside you. His tip nudges your clit, spreading some of his precum onto the nub as he guides it up and down your slit a couple times. He's working himself up to sinking in because he knows how wet you are. After a few more strokes, he presses just the tip in, nestling it into your warmth with a groan. You gasp as he slowly drives himself into you, the stretch his girth induces proving to be immense. He tries to steady his stuttering hips as he pushes more of his length in.

"Little more, just a liiittle more," he says through soft breaths, more to himself than you. Once he glides the rest of his length in, he feels like he's going to explode. He's throbbing so hard and you're not helping at all with the brief, inconsistent spasming of your walls. "Oh fuck... shit," he whimpers, thrusting only halfway into you. "Sorry—fuck—s-sorry... I can't-" He gasps when he thrusts the rest of the way in, spewing his load as he just grinds against you.

Your eyes widen as you watch him, his eyes shut tightly, his jaw hanging ajar to release shaky breaths. His cheeks, neck and chest are blazed, bright color smothered over his pale skin.

"Shit..." he rasps, still taking deep breaths.

You can't even ridicule him for this when he looks so fine. The laugh he let out was enough to make your thighs twitch.

"It's alright, Satoru. It's getting pretty late, anyway."

"No-the-fuck it's not," he says, looking down at you with the smallest crease between his brows. He's wanted this—wanted you—for way too long and he can't leave your room without showing you just how badly he desires you. It's a need, at this point.

A chill runs down your spine and your heart drops at his response.

"I mean, i'm not tired. Are you?" He asks, softening a little after coming in so hot with his last response.

You're not and even if you were, it's those eyes... They compel you to want to do things for his sake. They're so soft and you feel wanted beneath their force. You feel everything he said to you in the car when you peer into his eyes.

"No. I'm not tired either," you respond, which instantly puts a smile on his face.

"Good. Let me try again."

Neither of you mentioned any of what happened within that quick span of time. No mentions of him spilling the second he got inside you or you trying to end the night to save him the embarrassment, and it turned out for the better. No awkwardness once he recovered and went back to proving his love for you. He went straight into it, thrusting at a slow pace to start you off. He held onto your hips as he leaned in and kissed all over your chest, sucking your delicate skin to leave little reminders of him for you to see in the morning.

He groans, muffled by your warm skin, when you scratch the back of his head, guiding your nails through the short hairs of his undercut and down the nape of his neck. He's purring like a satisfied cat, the soft breaths he lets out through his nose grazing your neck.

With all these good feelings comes Satoru picking up the pace. His hips meet yours a little more quickly and suddenly both of you get a little more courage to make more sound.

"Fuck," you whimper. "Satoru... S-Satoru..."

"I know..." he grunts. "I know, baby. I feel really good, too."

You just look so damn pretty, with your starry eyes and your messy hair, and the way you keep moaning his name. He has to kiss you again. Each time he kissed you before was accompanied by fireworks. This time... who knows? He certainly won't unless he gains the courage to do it once more.

He leans forward and stares deep into your eyes. The level of intimacy has doubled down and you feel like your heart is trying even harder to lurch out of your chest. He's not stopping, you can feel his breath on your lips as he pants through the exertion of his hips. Then, once again, with a whimper as he closes the distance between your mouths, he kisses you. It's not fireworks this time, it's an entire fire and you kissing him back like you need him just as much is fanning the wild flames.

"Love... you," he disperses the words through his kisses. He doesn't only say it once. He says it multiple times as your lips are moving, making those pauses purposeful. "Fuck– I love you," he repeats, breaking the kiss when you don't say anything. "Come on," he chuckles. "Say it back."

"Satoru..." you say, softly.

"You say it all the time to us. What's another time?"

You bite back a laugh when you see those brilliant eyes again. He knows the effect they have on people and uses them to his advantage.

"It doesn't..." he groans, cursing under his breath when you suddenly clench around him. "...have to mean anything more than it usually does."

You're hesitant, but figure that as long as he doesn't take it as more than what he's used to—at least until things are talked through—there can't be any harm in saying what he wants to hear.

"Love you, 'toru."

The words are way too sweet, too gentle on his ears. The smile you offered as you delivered those words was devastatingly beautiful. You've said this a million times, each time so friendly, so lovingly, the meaning never feigned or faded with its repetition, but in that moment, he felt the words more than he ever did before. Your plush thighs are pressed against his hips, your hands are on his chest, and he can still smell that perfume you spritzed on your skin before you left. He's never heard you like this before, so sultry that it almost seems like an invasion of privacy.

"Again... say it again, p-please." With the scene that is playing out before his very eyes, he wants to imagine you meaning it as a term for lovers.

"I-I..." you let out a sharp gasp, your words cut off by the feeling of his cock brushing against that weak spot within you. "I love y-you, Satoru."

You're saying it to him only, right now. It's not 'I love you guys', it's 'I love you, Satoru', and he's drowning in it all. Your voice, the words, the blissed out look on your face. He's weak.

"Yeah?" He laughs, sounding almost delirious from how good he feels and how he's trying so hard not to cum.

"Mhm," you respond.

"T-That's good to know," he says, breathily. He's picking up the pace again, almost knocking the wind out of you with that first thrust in the change of pace. You're scratching up his back, wrapping your legs around his waist while he moans into the crook of your neck.

"G-Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum, again."

"Please... cum inside," you babble, nonsensically.

"Yeah? You want it inside again?" He asks, grinning when you hum and nod in confirmation. Who is he to deny you of such a simple want?

With a few more harder thrusts, he's filling you to the brim again with his warm cum. He's breathing heavily into your neck, mouthing at your skin sloppily as your cunt flutters around him. He's babbling on and on asking you if you came and if you feel good, while you're trying not to cry out too loudly from how hard you did. It's only until he unsticks himself from your tacky skin that he sees the aftermath of your orgasm. Your lidded eyes, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the sound of your shuddered breaths brushing past your lips. He's thinking about it again. No one deserves you, but clearly, he was the closest.

He tosses himself beside you once you both come down. Your blanket is shared between the two of you, it reaches just above your chest and above Satoru's hips.

He sighs as he turns over to face you as you stare up at the ceiling. "You think they heard us?" He asks, voice low and intimate, yet a mischievous smirk that tells you he wouldn't care if they did, plays on his lips.

"Not sure. I guess we'll find out tomorrow." Now it's your turn to sigh. You don't even want to think about how weird breakfast might be in the morning.

"Hey," he calls for your attention. You turn onto your side to face him, keeping the blanket close to your body. "It's gonna be fine. What's the worst that could happen? They tease us or call us dumb?" You give him a soft smile. Normally, you're the one calling him dumb while the others agree. "Don't know about you, but I don't mind. They don't know the story, anyway. Right?"

"Right."

Time slowed down in that moment. You both just stared at each other in silence, thinking about what just happened. You were comfortable together, lying there, satisfied with your decisions. He pulled you closer by your blanket covered waist and pressed kisses into your cheek, enough to make you giggle until you started returning the kisses. To anybody, this would be considered a sight of two lovers taking care of each other after a night of intimacy. The whispered words, the quiet laughter between kisses, the gentle drags of fingers on harsh marks—it all points to love. You think things might be okay, after all.

It took a while for you and Satoru to untangle yourselves from each other. Eventually, he got up and dressed into everything but his messy boxers. You weren't going to get back into your dress so you laid back for a while and watched as he collected himself.

"Well... I'll see you in the morning." His hand is on the doorknob and he's looking at you, shamelessly raking his eyes over your body as if he's trying to memorize you all over again within the short span of his goodnight to you.

"Mhm. Goodnight."

He pulls the door open, still not detaching his gaze from you. "Goodnight," he says, his voice low, yet warm and brimming with love. He spares one more soft smile for you, before walking out and clicking the door shut behind him.

You think you finally understand why he's so hung up on the way you say goodnight.

[yemmuis]

edging your husband!gojo until he literally cant take it anymore.

you made a bet. with him, that is. after a honeymoon of fucking like rabbits, drinking too much and sleeping in every day, you decided it might be fun to make your man wait a bit before he can have you again. specifically after something he said in the afterglow of sex and champagne, snuggling into you tightly.

“hey, baby?” gojo breathes against your neck, his arm around your waist tightening a little as he pulls you back against his chest. “been thinkin’, i dunno if i can ever get off without you again.”

those drowsy, mumbled words sparked something in you. never again? what a great opportunity!

“baby, please, come on! just let me touch you, please?” gojo whines, his tone desperate as he presses his face into your stomach and groans. “you’re so pretty, i wanna fuck you so bad…” but no, you can’t relent. you want to see where this goes, and if youre anything, its a person of follow-through.

“no, ‘toru. you can wait.” you retort, carding your fingers through his snowy white locks and continuing with your work on your laptop with the other hand. you almost hope you can make him snap. even if hes been a little rough with you before, youve never seen him really break. maybe you just like how bad he needs you.

and, maybe its his tone when he gets all whiney and needy. maybe.

“angel, love of my life, my perfect spouse, please? anything. anything, seriously. i will buy you a new car if you let me fuck you. god, i swear i will die if—“

okay, maybe you werent a person of your word. so what? hes so desperate, you cant help it.

its not long until your laptop and all the clothes on your body are forgotten on your bedroom floor.

“fuck, baaby, god,” gojo groans, feeding every thick inch of his cock sloooowly into your hole, biting his lip, hair sweat-sticky and flattened to his forehead. “thank you, baby, thank you…” his tone is whiney, but still hoarse, his head pressed into your chest as his hips twitch into yours and his fingers sink into your thighs. “this is why i fuckin’ married you. haahh…” hes whining, whimpering, thrusting his hips into yours with reckless abandon, barely fucking conscious and yet his fingers still clumsily find your sweet spot and rub messy circles around it while something tight and hot coils in your core.

fuck being a person of your word, this was so much better than edging him. gojos hips start pumping more languidly into you as the original heat wears off, groaning deep in his chest while he hikes your thighs up higher on his hips and somehow gets even deeper into you, the weepy, thick head of his cock pressing into all the right spots as it bullies its way into you until youre cumming all around him. gojo lets out a shaky gasp against your skin (the first time his orgasm has ever rendered him speechless, you think smugly in the back of your mind) and hes drooling against your sticky skin and fucking his cum as deep as he can get it into you and babbling about how thankful he is for you when hes got his voice back

edging your spouse obviously was not for the weak. especially when your husband was satoru gojo and obviously couldnt control himself one bit when it came to his new spouse.

[reignpage]

Equal Rights, Equal Fights

Summary: in which your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, lets himself get struck by a gender-bending curse Word Count: 2.3k Warnings: fem!reader, lesbian sex, gender bend, porn with little plot, thigh humping, cunnilingus, fingering, scissoring, dirty talk, choking, slight rimming, all over the place pronouns, not proofread

“It’s pretty crazy, isn’t it?” Satoru remarks with a shit-eating grin. “Although, I always knew I’d make a hot chick.”

Your boyfriend returned from a mission as a woman. Something about a curse with the ability to alter the appearance of its victim for an hour or two, which apparently, intrigued him enough to let down his guard, literally, and allow himself to be struck. 

Now, before you, is a tall, skinny, but curvaceous, young woman with long, white hair. She’s drowning in Satoru’s clothes, zipper dangerously low on her chest, revealing the smooth curves of her cleavage. Wearing his blindfold, she admires herself in the bathroom mirror whilst you look on from behind in what can only be described as horror. 

“How are you so calm about this, Satoru?”

She, or he, or what fucking ever, winks at you through the reflection and cups her ample breasts. Then, with a sultry tone, replies, “I’ve already accepted my fate. So, instead of being all sad and scared, why don’t we make the most of it, sweetie?”

Judging by the words alone, you’re sure it’s him — no one else in the world could manage to be as infuriating. But the voice is so womanly, much higher than his normal pitch, smoother, and it’s throwing you for a loop. 

Satoru spins around, hair whipping with her movement. You can tell she’s serious, or he, and fuck this is confusing. She is serious. You can tell her from the mischievous glinting in her eyes and the way she’s raking down your figure, stopping at your chest to size up your tits in comparison to hers. 

Even in a situation like this, he just has to compete.

“Satoru, you need to go to Shoko,” is all you can push out. 

In a flash, she’s pinning you to the wall, breasts squished against yours and her leg trapped shoved between your thighs. She cages you within her arms, fingers tracing your jaw, travelling down your neck. When you gulp, Satoru huffs in victory, thoroughly amused by your body’s reaction.

Her fingers remain just as long as his normal ones, but his nails are even longer and sharper. They scrape against your skin, pressing just hard enough for you to hold your breath as you both watch him descend down your chest until she reaches the neckline of your shirt. 

“Let’s have some instead, hmm?”

You try to push her away, but your fists only land on her bouncy breasts instead of his hard pecs. Through her uniform, you can feel her pebbled nipples poking. Satoru gasps. Unable to help yourself, you unfurl your fists and bury your fingers within her tits, the weight leaving you both breathless. 

In retaliation, you’re sure, she hikes that leg up between yours, plumper thighs pressing against your clothed pussy. You moan, “Satoru!”

She crashes her lips against yours. 

You can taste your lipgloss; he must have gone through your makeup bag before waking you up. It’s sweet and sticky and neither of you can get enough as you stick your tongue in, meeting his in a sloppy kiss. Her tits press in harder as she arches closer, leg grinding against your moistening pussy. 

“Knew you’d cave,” he taunts.

Satoru, in any and all forms, will always be a little shit. He’ll always push the limits, get on your nerves, and he’ll do it all with an innocent smile. That realisation might be the only thing softening the blow when you realise, you’re actually just as curious and enthusiastic about this little experience. 

Because no matter how infuriating he is, he will always be your Satoru. And you can’t deny him, can’t resist his charm, no matter how hard you try. Even when you desperately don’t want him to win. 

And how can you resist him now?

When he still looks just as otherworldly, just as majestic, and jaw-dropping as a woman. And he looks even better than you. 

But he kisses the same. With so much love, so much reverence, and obsession, you almost forget what’s happened. Almost. Since there’s no way you can ignore that sickly sweet scent of a woman. Gone is all the roughness and instead it’s replaced by that warmth, that nurturing softness you melt into. 

She squeals when you shove your leg between hers too. Whilst you grind on hers, Satoru humps you, pussy juices seeping through your clothes, leaving a steamy trail on your bare skin and on her thin pants. 

“Do I feel better, baby?” He asks. “Is it better when I’m a girl? Do you like me like this, hmm? All -ngh- soft and womanly?”

“Shut up, Satoru.”

You tear off her jacket, throwing it somewhere behind her before you pull down her vest, stretching the material until it tucks itself under her tits. They’re so heavy, so intoxicatingly smooth you squeeze them under your palms. You suck at a throbbing nipple, eyes rolling back at Satoru’s whimper. 

“Oh, fuck, baby! You sucking my tit? You like sucking on mommy’s tits, baby?”

Her fingers tug at your hair, simultaneously trying to pull you off and keep you there, like she wishes she could bury you between her breasts. You have no idea where that mommy thing comes from and you make a mental note to make fun of him for it later, but right now, the term is actually making you wetter. 

Tongue swirling around her nipple, you use the same technique as you would with the tip of his cock, sucking in pulses. You flick it and rolls the bud between your teeth hard enough to make her hips stutter. 

You’re still churning your hips against her thigh, panties soaked through and making a mess of her pants. She, in turn, is grinding on yours. The both of you are chasing your high, feeling yourselves get closer to an orgasm, and you can’t muster the energy to ponder about how weird this entire thing is. You can only think about how delicious she smells and how addictive her softness feels. 

“Yes! Yes, Satoru,” you groan around her nipple, bruising her hips with your needy hands.

She’s bucking wildly, holding you tight as she spasms. Though your orgasm was just as good, it’s clear Satoru is being driven an extra mile of wild — he must be going insane from the unique feel of a woman’s orgasm. She grinds her clit harder. 

“Oh my god!” She moans. “Fuck, baby! It’s so good, it’s so fucking good.”

Kissing up her neck, you hold her as she slumps down. Unable to restrain yourself, you tease right in her ear, “Knew you wouldn’t be able to handle a woman’s body.”

That seems to rejuvenate him because he’s using his height to tower over you once more, tits jiggling right in front of your face.

“Oh, but I handle yours every night well enough, don’t I?”

You shrug. “Eh, you’re alright.”

Satoru spins you around, pushing you to sit on top of the toilet lid. She sinks onto her knees, pulling your panties off right before diving forward. Her tongue glides through your sloppy pussy, licking a stripe from your quivering hole to your clit, circling there once and twice before lowering again. 

“Satoru! Don’t stop,” you beg, hands holding your thighs up so you can get a perfect view of her long lashes fluttering as her own eyes roll back. She’s taking off her own clothes with expert hands, multitasking whilst she ravages your cunt, pushing that devilishly long tongue inside your wet hole. 

You’re writhing and clawing at the walls, knocking the toilet roll off its handle. 

When she inches her fingers inside, your hips jolt. They’re slightly thinner than his normal fingers but they’re still stretching you out as she feels the grooves inside your pulsing walls. 

Laughing, Satoru remarks, “I’m just as tight as you, baby. But you’re warmer inside.”

You look down and the sight makes you squeeze out even more cream onto his fingers. Your boyfriend, in his female form, is shoving his fingers inside his own sloppy pussy in time with the fingers he’s got inside of you. His slender arm is pushing her tits closer, make the fat bulge and bounce with every thrust. 

Bunching up her hair, you pull him in closer, urging his dirty mouth to suck your clit. Drool is dripping down your chin as he continues to pummel his fingers inside your cunt, curling them in to tease at that spongy spot inside. 

“Oh! Ngh!” Satoru whimpers. “Is that what you feel when I do that?”

The squelches filling the room are coming from both of you. It’s a filthy symphony and you’re heaving, hips rising to chase his mouth. Sweat is drenching your body and the feel of him licking up that bead of condensation falling down your thigh just as his thumb circles your clit is what pushes you over the edge. 

You cum with a scream, soaking her face with your release which she eagerly laps up, dipping low to your ass to chase any errant trails of wetness, tracing the puckered hole. Desperately inhaling air, your head falls back onto the water tank, the ceramic cooling you enough to bring back your consciousness. 

“That’s it. Go on, baby. Cum for me,” she urges. “Looks so -ngh- pretty. Prettier than me. Always so beautiful.”

Satoru is still frantically shoving her fingers inside like she can’t get enough of the euphoria stimulating her g-spot is bringing. You reach your hands out, one to clutch at her throat, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp, and the other pinches and pulls at her nipple, slipping in the sweat coating his skin.

“Shit! I’m cumming. Oh no, fuck! It’s too much.”

She cums too, juices splattering all over the tiles. Her back arches, mouth agape and eyes rolled back. Strands of hair are sticking to her clammy skin, and her sticky spare hand is gripping your wrist, smearing your own wetness all over your skin. 

It’s as gorgeous a sight as his normal cumming face. 

“I c-can’t…fuck!” She heaves, bottom lip quivering right before her head falls forward, face planting right into your pussy. Satoru takes a deep inhale before he kisses your clit like he would with your lips or your cheeks. “Love this pussy, love you so so much.”

He’s muttering sweet nothings right in your hole the same way he does after a hard cum. Even as the most badass looking woman, he’s still your pathetic little boyfriend, always so in love and unafraid to show it. 

“Accept defeat, Satoru,” you whisper as you brush his hair back. “Two orgasms from your pussy are too much for a man to handle.”

Your boyfriend, bless his competitive little heart, lifts his head and forces his blurry vision to clear up enough for him to fix you with a firm glare. He grips your ankles, stands up, and scoots you back. There isn’t enough space on the toilet, but he forces you both to balance anyways. 

Tossing a leg over yours, he declares, “I can handle another one. You can too. So, hold tight baby, we’re going until there’s a dick between my legs and inside yours.”

Then, he’s mashing his wet cunt against your pulsing pussy. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper again. 

Satoru has craziness written all over his face, a furious need sparkling in his pretty blue eyes as he pummels his pussy again and again against yours. His hard clit meets yours and jolts of electricity climb up your spine, back arching with a howl. 

Sweat and pussy juice is flying everywhere with the force of her thrusts. Your body is on fire, nerves alight as you lie helplessly beneath her, head thrown back. You can only take what she’s giving you, unable to fight off that fury in her hips as she grinds your clits together, mixing your sticky juices until it’s pooling beneath your asses.

His perfect blue eyes can’t decide where to look at. Whether to watch the way your tits bounce like his, or at your pleasured face, tongue out and drool coating your lips and chin whilst your eyes rolls back, or at your sloppy pussy, shiny with your combined mess. 

Your fingers dig into her tits, groping the flesh there before you sit up and take a nipple into your mouth. Even as a man, his nipples were his weakness, and when you swipe the tip of your tongue against the slit, her thrusts suddenly become shorter and faster until they lose all rhythm. 

Together, you howl. Your moans are broken and ragged, muscles jelly as you meet her sloppy thrusts with equally crazed ones. 

“Yes! Yes!” Satoru screams. “So good, baby. Fuck! Your pussy’s the best. Ha! I love you so much. My best girl, my favourite girl.”

“Oh god, Satoru!”

Hips still stuttering and slapping against each other, you ride out your orgasms, breaths raspy as you drench the seat with your mixing fluids, steam fogging the window. Satoru’s lips descend on yours, sucking up your dying moans and holding you close. 

Eventually, you part, limbs tangled up and eyes threatening to close. 

You fall forward into his neck, but you don’t get any rest because he’s slapping your face awake with gentle pats. You look up at him through bleary eyes. 

Gone is long hair and so is his blindfold, now you realise. His features have hardened again, jaw much sharper and cheeks less plump, but still just as flushed. And when your hand seeks out his chest, you’re a little disappointed to find only solid muscle. But you aren’t as disappointed to feel something long, thick and incredibly hard throbbing against your stomach. 

“Three orgasms from female me. Three orgasms from original me. After, you tell me which is better, okay?”

Always so competitive, always so annoying. 

[loves4ge]

Hii I’m new to your blog and I love your work. I was wondering if you could do fake texts of bff jjk when they hear you have a crush on them from someone else. Thankyou🫶🏻

when they find out you have a crush on them !

incl. gojo satoru, geto suguru, choso kamo

thank you for requesting, this was super cute!!

[moncher-ire]

Gojo fanfic recommendations because yeah. (nsfw and sfw

(none of these fics are mine chat.)

nsfw

Silent Serenades - arranged marriage au -Ongoing- wc 137k

- by - @madamechrissy -

Healing Hearts - dr gojo -ongoing- 40k

- by @madamechrissy -

Take Me Home Tonight - law professor gojo Wc: 136k

by - @madamechrissy -

Time after Time - ceo gojo Wc: 103k-

by - @madamechrissy -

Fractured Desires ‘enemies’ to lovers? Wc: 95k

by - @madamechrissy -

fantasize - fwb gojo -one shot-

by - @screampied -

fifteen seconds of fame - pornstar gojo- one shot

by - @screampied -

bad romance - pornstar gojo and bassist geto - one shot -

by - @screampied -

poker face - pop star gojo - one shot

- by - @screampied -

it’s a match! last friday night - best friend gojo - one shot

- by @screampied -

The Heir - clan leader husband gojo - one shot

- by - @tonycries -

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy - cow boy gojo - one shot

- by - @tonycries -

AITA For F*cking My Sugar Daddy's Son?! - rich boy gojo - one shot -

-by - @tonycries -

You Got me thinking Nonsense - brothers best friend gojo - one shot

- by - @madamechrissy -

NOT SO INVISIBLE STRING

- by @sahkuna -

Do I wanna Know? - yandre gojo - one shot

- by - @madamechrissy -

I'll look After You - one night stand baby daddy gojo - one shot

- by - @madamechrissy -

birds of a feather - olympic figure skater satoru gojo

- by @lokissweater)

(side note. this has to be my all time favorite fic ever)

sfw (these are VERY hard to come across..) (

something sweet - one shot

- by @madaqueue

dating gojo

- by @obsesssedblerd -

husband gojo

- by @coffee-and-geto -

(editing because i forgot to add smaus…)

smaus

first class liar - actor gojo -

by - @todayisawthewhxlewxrld

San Miguel: bottoms up - part one - (the rest are there when u click)

-by - @reignpage -

sorry for the @‘s chat (dont hate me pslpslspsl)

[cumironi]

MY BOY SUCH A PRETTY CRIER : GOJO SATORU

my boyfriend has the prettiest eyes,” . . . you love your boyfriend— gojo satoru's eyes, you always have, until you see him crying for the first time, and you can't help but need to see those eyes, glisten with tears, every chance you get.

warning. obsessive! gojo satoru, established relationship, mentioned of suicide, blood mention, obsessive reader, slight dark, toxic! reader.

wc. 6,6k ( art belong to the artist, devider belong to cafekitsune )

it's glisten...

gojo satoru's blue, azure irises glisten under the moonlight like little twinkling stars, silking with his tears. you were mesmerized and for a moment your erotic movement stammered, slower, slower, slower . . . and stopped. it hurt your chest, your lung, like the air just got reap by fingers with pointed nails, or razor-sharped teeth, you named it.

you gasp for air, holding them down inside your reaped lungs. it's suffocating, how his eyes make you feel. and suddenly, you can feel everything, your senses sharpen— the way his heart is beating like thunder underneath your palms, cocoon by his ribcage, the way his girth, his throbbing girth twitching inside you.

“baby...” he breathlessly calls you.

gojo's nail digging is dullest to your chubby rear, silently begging you to move and get back to work, but no.. you stay silent for a moment, drowning in his blue eyes you never realize as blue as the ocean, as deep as one before. you always knew it was pretty, but never as this pretty, it's breathtaking, it's soul-sucking, it's. . . gut wrenching, pain, because you will never have eyes like his, you will never, ever, find eyes like his with other men, other person.

“beautiful..” you whisper.

your trembling hand gently makes its way to kiss his cheek, thumb dancing across the skin to push away the tears selfishly. only you, it's only you who can get this close to his eyes, it is you.

“you are so beautiful,” soft, breathless whisper kissing your lips before you lean closer, skin to skin with his forehead. it was crystal clear, his eyes. . . so celar you can read his mind through it, see his soul laid bare, feel his blood and his heart beating faster each second- looking straight at you like its ready to burst his ribcage open nad run to you with all the blood, the flesh, even the bone.

one blink, two blink, and three blink it takes gojo to clear the glisten effect on his eyes, letting the last tears fall freely down to his cheeks. a small frown makes its way to your forehead, so you found your hips moving slowly, your glisten clit grinding against gojo's skin, his cock twitching and soft moan leaving his pink, swollen lips.

soft mean tear from your throat, past your lips the moment tears flooded in gojo's eyes. “don't close your eyes, baby,” you whisper, like a witch chanted a mantra. gojo nod eagerly, bewitched by you. it was sinister, your smile, drowning in love and something more. the look on your beautiful face, the one where gojo never saw. he was mesmerize with the way you look at him. how your eyes practically sparkling, your cheeks blushing madly, your eyes glue to him like he is the center of your world, and gojo was doomed.

after that unforgettable night, you find yourself completely immersed in the depth of gojo’s eyes, as if drawn into a boundless ocean of their beauty. every nuance of their color becomes an intricate tapestry that you cannot help but unravel. imagine, if you will, the way his eyes might transform under the tender embrace of a sunset, their natural brilliance kissed by hues of molten gold and soft amber, weaving a breathtaking symphony of warmth and light.

“hey, baby,” his voice drifts softly, like a breeze stirring you from the quiet of your thoughts, his words threading through the haze that clouds your mind.

you blink once, then twice, and a third time, as if awakening from a dream spun of shadows and whispers, until your gaze finds his—those eyes, blue as a restless sea, now roiling with a tempest of fury. it’s a sight that steals the breath from your lungs, a depthless anger that crashes like waves against the shores of his calm, threatening to sweep you away. his stare is fierce, wild. . . cannibalism lookalike even, and you feel something shift within you, a fullness that blooms in your chest, heavy and warm. his palm, cold against your flushed skin, cradles your cheek, and you lean into his touch, drawn like a moth to flame, craving the chill that soothes the heat of your racing heart.

his knuckles, adorned in the brutal artistry of bruises, are stained with the blood of those who dared to lay hands upon you, each mark a testament to the violence he’s wrought in your name. once again, his knuckles, oh, they are a map of violence—a testament to the ruin he hath wrought upon those foolish enough to lay a hand upon what he cherishes most: you, oh you. . . the love of his life.. bruises bloom like dark violets upon his skin, and the crimson of blood lingers, a stark reminder of his ferocity, his unrelenting need to protect, to possess, to guard you as fiercely as the lion doth its pride.

they bear the story of his wrath, of a love so vehement it spills over into rage, uncontained and ferocious. he stands as a fortress, unyielding and unbreakable, a sentinel who guards not with words but with fists and fury, and in his eyes, you see a promise—a vow that none shall harm you and live to see the sun again. his touch, a chilled caress upon your cheek, pulls you closer still, and you lean into it, seeking solace in the coolness of his palm, a balm against the heat of his wrath.

“baby, are you alright?” he asks, his voice a deep, soft rumble that vibrates through your very bones, soothing and stirring all at once. it washes over you, a tide that pulls you under, and suddenly your legs betray you, trembling beneath the weight of it all, the sheer intensity of his presence. you feel yourself melt, your knees weak, the world spinning as if gravity has turned traitor, and you begin to sink. but he is there, always there, swift and sure, catching you in the safety of his embrace, his strong arms wrapping around your trembling form, pulling you flush against the solid heat of his chest.

“please, hold me,” you whisper, voice barely a breath, still lost in the storm that rages within his gaze. there’s a desperation in your plea, a need to be held, to be anchored amidst the chaos that threatens to drown you both. his hold tightens, as if he could fuse you to him, make you one with his own flesh and bone, and you feel the world steady under the weight of his arms. his scent, warm and familiar, envelops you, a heady mix of comfort and danger that sends a shiver racing down your spine.

there is an obsession in the way he looks at you now, an all-consuming need that borders on madness, a love that knows no bounds, no reason, no restraint. for in that gaze, you are not merely seen—you are worshipped, adored, the very center of his universe, hell, you are a god to gojo satoru. his eyes, burning with the light of a thousand suns, speak not of mere affection but of a devotion so profound that it eclipses all else. every breath you take, every beat of your heart, is caught up in the maelstrom of his love, swirling endlessly in the vortex of his gaze.

he holds you so close, close enough that you can feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, a fierce, steady drum that matches the frantic cadence of your own. your hands find their way around his neck, fingers threading through the silken strands of his hair, pulling him closer, closer, until there is no space left between you. your lips meet his in a fervent kiss, a clash of need and hunger, tongues dancing in a tangled, breathless frenzy. it is a kiss that speaks of survival, of gratitude, of a love that is both a sanctuary and a storm.

he tastes like fury and devotion, a bitter-sweetness that lingers on your tongue, and you drink him in, greedy for more. his grip on you is unrelenting, as if letting go would mean losing you to the abyss of his own making, and you cling to him with equal fervor, your bodies a tangled mess of limbs and longing. in that moment, there is no past, no future—only the now, the heady rush of his breath mingling with yours, the feel of his hands on your skin, the unspoken promises that pass between you with every stolen breath.

he holds you as if you are the very air he breathes- well, indeed you are, as if he could will you into his soul and keep you there, keeping warm and alive unthe the flesh of his ribcage, close to his heart, safe and cherished, forevermore. his eyes, still brimming with that furious fire, soften at the edges as he kisses you back with a reverence that makes your heart ache. it’s a kiss that binds, that claims, that seals you to him in a way that words never could, and as you pull away, breathless and dazed, you know that this is where you belong—wrapped in his arms, lost in the depths of his gaze, loved with a passion that burns brighter than the stars.

when he pulls away, a thin, glistening thread of desire still lingers, stretching between your parted lips over the tongue—a tether that binds you in this shared breath, this dangerous dance. his gaze meets yours, those blue eyes still ablaze with a furious tempest, but within their storm, there flickers a flame of love, fierce and unyielding. he looks down at you, a twisted smile curling at his lips, a grin that speaks of chaos and carnage, of a madness that holds the world at bay. “i'm sorry those fools dared to lay hands upon you, but they will trouble you no more, my love,” he murmurs, voice low and threaded with menace, a vow spoken with a lover’s gentleness yet edged in steel. his hands, calloused and sure, cup your cheeks, cradling you as though you are the most precious, fragile thing in all the realms.

together, you both cast your gaze down upon the bodies sprawled upon the cold, unforgiving ground, their forms marred by bruises and the remnants of his wrath. they lie there, wet and lifeless as fallen leaves, scattered by the tempest of his fury, no longer a threat but mere echoes of their own folly. and yet, even amidst the wreckage of his rage, there is a strange beauty in the chaos he has wrought—a dark symphony of love and violence, a tribute to his devotion, twisted and true.

“come, let me take you home, my love,” he murmurs once more, the words a soft caress against your skin, as his lips find yours in a kiss that seals the promise of his protection. you are stunned, breathless, and your eyes glisten with a fervor that matches his own—a wild, consuming adoration for the man before you, this maniacal figure who stands between you and the world. to love him is to dance on the edge of a blade, a perilous waltz that thrills and terrifies in equal measure.

you look up at him, smiling so, so, so sweetly, mirror the same menace, at satoru gojo, your beautiful, dangerous obsession, and your heart swells with a love so potent it feels as if it might burst from your chest. it is sick, this mutual madness that binds you, a passion laced with peril and an affection born of fury. he is a storm wrapped in human form, a threat to all that dares to stand in his path, yet to you, he is a haven, a divine madness that sets your soul alight.

his eyes—ah, those orbs of azure fire! they are the boundless seas wherein your soul doth drown a thousand times. in calmer tides you have known them—playful, serene, a gentle mirth that sparkles like sunlight upon the morn’s dew. yet now, behold, they blaze with tempest’s fury, aflame with wrath as the heavens in their ire. 'tis as though the very stars have kindled rage within those depths, a storm that seethes and seizes all that dare to meet its gaze. and in that wild and furious tempest, you, undone, do find your heart ensnared anew, aflutter as a wanton moth to flame.

for every glance he grants, each furious flicker of those eyes, doth pull you deeper still, till all the world is but a distant whisper, and you are lost—utterly, wholly—in the unfathomable blue of his gaze. to see him thus, to feel his ire burn not at you but for you, sets your blood to riotous fervor, and lo, your cheeks do bloom with that sweet crimson of youth’s first fond blush. oh, what madness is this! to love so fiercely, to find in rage a tender, quiet adoration that makes you very breath catch, your heart sing out its foolish tune of love renewed.

his eyes are not mere mirrors of his soul; they are the very tempest that doth rage within his breast, a tumult of love and wrath entwined. 'tis a sight both fearsome and fair, for in his fury lies the pledge of his protection, a devotion that doth border upon the divine. how can i resist? his gaze is your sun, your moon, your guiding star, and you, poor wretch, are but a humble worshipper at the altar of his gaze. to see him thus, to know his anger burns for you, not against you, is to be wrapped in the warm embrace of his fiercest love.

aye, 'tis true—each time those eyes, so fierce, so wild, do meet your own, your heart doth flutter as a captive bird newly freed. in those depths, you see not just the fury of the storm, but the quiet promise of a love that will not fade, that will not falter. it is obsession, a fire that consumes and yet does not destroy, but rather, sanctifies. and so you fall, endlessly, hopelessly, into that blue abyss, where anger and love are but two sides of the same coin, where you are his, and he is yours, and the world may be damned, so long as his eyes remain your haven, your undoing, your everlasting delight.

in his arms, you are both prisoner and queen, worshipped in the sanctuary of his embrace, held aloft by the sheer force of his adoration. it is a love that defies reason, a devotion that flirts with destruction, and yet, it is the most beautiful thing you have ever known. for in his fury, you find a devotion unbroken, and in his danger, a divinity that shines brighter than the stars. it is wild, it is reckless, it is divine—and you would have it no other way.

you open the door, and there he stands, drenched from head to toe, rain pouring down like a curtain of sorrow, clinging to him as if the heavens themselves weep for his misfortune. gojo satoru, usually so untouchable, now a figure cut from despair, shivers in the chill of the storm, his white hair plastered to his forehead, rivulets of water tracing the sharp lines of his face. his eyes, usually alight with mischief and boundless confidence, are now dimmed, clouded with a sadness so deep it seems to swallow the very light that once defined him.

“go home, satoru,” you say, your voice firm, though your heart clenches at the sight of him.

he doesn’t move, just stands there on your doorstep, trembling from the cold, every shiver of his body a silent plea for your warmth, your forgiveness, oh, your love. his gaze locks onto yours, and in those azure depths, you see a man unraveled, a soul laid bare. he looks so lost, as if every ounce of the bravado that once shielded him has been stripped away, leaving only raw, aching need. he is like a stray pup, kicked and abandoned in the dead of night, caught in a relentless downpour with nowhere to turn but to you.

“please,” his eyes seem to say, though his lips do not move, as if the very act of speaking would shatter what little remains of his pride. the sadness in his gaze is a weight, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on your chest until it hurts to breathe. he stands there, drenched and desperate, the rain mingling with what you can’t tell are tears or the relentless downpour, and you can’t help but feel your resolve waver.

he’s begging you without words, a silent supplication for the love he once held so carelessly, now desperate to grasp it again as if it were the last tether to his fading light. and in that moment, you see him not as the invincible person, not as the man who commands respect and fear, but as someone who is utterly, devastatingly human—broken and yearning, with eyes that plead for a mercy only you can grant.

his body trembles, not just from the cold, but from the unbearable burden of your absence, his breath hitching in the back of his throat as he stands before you, stripped of all bravado. his eyes, usually so filled with boundless confidence, are now heavy with the weight of his own despair, looking up at you with a sadness so profound it seems to echo through the storm. he caught in the relentless fury of the night, shivering and soaked, eyes pleading for the warmth and solace of your embrace—a creature lost in the dark, cast adrift without the guiding light of your love.

“just go home, i don't want to be with you,” you say, voice cutting through the rain like a cruel, deliberate blade.

and just like that, the dam breaks. the tears well up in his eyes, those brilliant blue pools now shimmering with unshed sorrow, glistening in the dim light like shards of broken glass. it’s a sight you’ve longed to see, a vulnerability that he so rarely shows, and for a fleeting moment, you feel a sick satisfaction bloom within you. his pain, raw and unfiltered, stirs something deep, something dark, as you watch the strongest sorcerer reduced to nothing more than a man undone by the weight of his own emotions.

his eyes, usually so full of power and certainty, now shimmer with a desperate plea, tears spilling over as he chokes back a sob. you've never seen anything more beautiful, and in this twisted, fevered moment, you’ve never felt more alive, never fallen harder for him than right now, with his pride in ruins at your feet.

“please, baby,” he whispers, voice cracking under the strain, “i’ll be less annoying, i'll lest of anything that driving you away from me, i’ll do whatever you want—just, please.” the words tumble out, desperate and frantic, as he promises to change, to bend, to be whatever version of himself you demand. he stands before you, a king stripped of his crown, reduced to nothing but a man begging at your mercy, and the sight of it sends a shiver of dark delight down your spine.

it’s sick, the way you revel in this power over him, the way his tears make your heart race and your lips curl into the faintest of smiles. you are obsessed with this dance, this twisted game where his suffering is your satisfaction, where his pleading eyes are the sweetest of victories. he is yours, wholly and completely, and you know that he would break a thousand times over just to keep you from walking away. you will be the death of him, and once, you whisper and spitting on his grave, everyone will watch him crawling back from the death, and once again, he will be lying on your feet for your mercy, for you to love him, all bones and flesh.

and yet, you find yourself pushing further, testing the limits of his devotion, just to see how far he will go. it is a cruel, intoxicating power, to have someone like satoru gojo reduced to tears, and you drink it in like a forbidden elixir, sweet and heady. he is beautiful in his despair, and as he stands there, drenched and pleading, you can’t help but fall for him all over again, tangled in the twisted love that binds you both in this endless, obsessive dance.

gojo falls to his knees, the mighty sorcerer brought low, his arms winding around your legs with a grip that trembles like a leaf caught in a tempest. his body shakes with the cold and the weight of his despair, his once towering presence now reduced to a man clinging to the last threads of hope. he presses his forehead against your knees, rain-soaked and broken, as if your touch alone could redeem him, could stitch together the fragments of his shattered pride.

he looks up at you, eyes glistening with unshed tears, a kaleidoscope of heartbreak and desperation painted across his face—a portrait of a man undone. there is something so exquisitely pathetic in his gaze, a rawness that strips away the veneer of invincibility, leaving only the bare, trembling truth of his need for you. his eyes, those brilliant blue oceans, are now brimming with tears that spill over, tracing a path down his cheeks like the first rains of spring breaking the drought, each drop glistening like a jewel in the pale light.

and you, standing above him, feel a dark, intoxicating thrill twist within you. it is the beauty of his suffering that ensnares your heart, the way his tears catch the light like shattered stars, casting shadows of sorrow and longing. you are captivated by the sight of him, the strongest man you know brought to his knees, eyes pleading, voice breaking as he begs for the one thing he cannot command—your love.

“please,” he murmurs, the word a fragile whisper, his breath warm against your skin, “love me again.” his voice cracks, a jagged sound that splinters the air, and his tears fall faster, the dam of his restraint collapsing in the face of his need. he is beautiful in his anguish, a vision of tragic grace, and you cannot help but fall in love all over again, lost in the raw, unguarded emotion that spills from him like a river bursting its banks.

to see him like this, vulnerable and pleading, is to witness the unraveling of a myth—a god brought to earth, stripped of all but his humanity. and in this moment, he is more magnificent than ever, his sorrow a canvas on which your love paints itself anew. his tears are a symphony of the heart, each drop a note that sings to your darkest desires, pulling you deeper into the depths of this obsessive, all-consuming devotion.

his eyes, those eyes that have seen worlds beyond, now reflect only you, and in their tear-streaked depths, you find a love so fierce, so fervent, that it threatens to consume you whole. it is a love that does not ask, but demands; a love that kneels at your feet and begs for mercy, not for itself, but for the man who weeps before you. and as you look down at him, his tear-stained face so achingly beautiful, you know that you are lost to him—lost to this love that is as twisted and fragile as the threads of his tears, a love that binds you both in a dance of pain and passion that neither of you can bear to end.

as he stumbles forward, falling to his knees with a shudder that ripples through his entire body, the rain pouring down on him like the heavens themselves are weeping for his plight. his hands grasp at your legs, fingers clinging to you with a desperate strength, as though you are the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. his head bows low, forehead pressing against your knees, and his breath comes in ragged, frantic gasps, each one a struggle against the sobs that threaten to tear him apart.

“please,” he begs, voice fractured and raw, as if the words themselves are tearing through him, leaving him gasping for air. “please don’t turn me away. i can’t—i can’t do this without you. i’m dying, i swear, i’m dying without you,” his voice breaks on the last word, shattering into a desperate wail that pierces through the rain, his body convulsing with the force of his sobs.

“i’ll be anything, anyone you need me to be,” he continues, his eyes wild with a terror that’s almost primal, like a man staring into the abyss. “i’ll change, i’ll never be too much again, just… just don’t leave me here, not like this. i can’t breathe, i can’t even think without you. please, i’m begging you—don’t let go of me.” his words come out in a rush, frantic and broken, his voice thick with tears that he no longer bothers to hide.

the world seeming to tilt on its axis, his pride scattered like the raindrops that pool around him. his fingers find your hand, clutching with a desperation that makes your heart stutter, his grip fierce as though you are the last tether to a life he can no longer navigate without you. his head bows low, forehead pressing against your knees, and the sound of his breath is a ragged, broken thing, a symphony of despair that rises with the rhythm of the rain.

“i'm sorry,” he rasps, his voice a mere whisper against the howl of the storm, but there is a rawness in it that slices through the night, a vulnerability that lays him bare. “please, don’t do this. i am undone without you. every breath is agony, every beat of my heart a hollow echo. i am nothing—nothing without your love to guide me.” his words are a litany of longing, each syllable soaked in the salt of unshed tears, his gaze lifting to meet yours with the fragile hope of a man on the brink of ruin.

he looks up at you, eyes wide and shining with tears, the blue of them dull and hollow without the spark of your love. they are the eyes of a man on the brink, staring down the barrel of a life without the only thing that has ever truly mattered. his breath stutters, each exhale a choked, desperate plea, and his fingers dig into the fabric of your clothes, clinging to you as if the very act of holding on is the only thing keeping his heart beating.

his eyes, those brilliant blue depths that once held the light of a thousand stars, now brim with the bleakness of a sky stripped bare, his tears mingling with the rain that slides down his cheeks. he is a man unmade, all bravado stripped away, leaving only the raw ache of his need, the sheer, unrelenting force of his devotion that coils around your heart like ivy.

“please,” he whispers again, his voice so faint it’s almost lost to the sound of the rain. “i need you. more than air, more than anything. without you, there’s nothing. there’s no me, no us, no world i want to live in. i’m dying here, right in front of you, and the only thing that can save me is you. i fucking swear to god, baby, i will kill you and then kill myself if you don't love me again.”

his head drops, forehead pressing into the cold, wet ground as his body shakes with the force of his sobs, each one wrenching through him like a violent storm. he clutches at you with a desperation that borders on madness, his entire being consumed by the need to feel your arms around him, to hear you say that everything will be okay. he is a man unraveling, a soul laid bare in the rain, and all he has left is this—this pitiful, desperate plea for the one thing that could mend his shattered heart.

“i love you,” he chokes out, his voice breaking, his hands trembling against your legs. “i love you so much it hurts. please… i can’t—i can’t do this without you. i’d rather die right here, right now, than spend another second without you in my arms.” and as he kneels there, drenched and broken, begging for a mercy only you can grant, you see the truth etched in every tear-streaked line of his face: without you, he is nothing but a man lost to the storm, drowning in a sea of his own despair.

he bows his head lower, his sobs blending with the symphony of the rain, each drop a soft requiem for the love he fears he has lost. he clings to you as if you are his salvation, his lifeline, the only thing standing between him and the abyss. and in the depth of his gaze, you see it—the unspoken truth that without you, satoru gojo is not the invincible, untouchable force the world sees, but a man who is willing to lay down everything, even his pride, for just one more chance to be held in the light of your love.

your fingers weave through the silver strands of his hair, gripping tightly as if tethering yourself to the very essence of him. the tension draws a soft, desperate whine from his lips, a sound so sweet it echoes through your veins, setting your blood aflame. your bodies, bared to the night's whisper, tangle together in a dance of unspoken need, your breath hitching in rhythm with his as you find solace in the storm of each other's presence.

perched upon his lap, you feel the solid strength of him beneath you, his muscles taut and trembling, his arms wrapped around your waist with a fervor that speaks of a desperate, consuming devotion. you lean closer, your breaths mingling in the scant space between, and capture his lips in a fervent kiss, tongues entwining like vines that have waited lifetimes to grow together. it’s a collision of hunger and longing, a silent plea wrapped in the taste of him that floods your senses and drowns you in the depths of his presence.

“oh, baby— fuck, ’miss you,” he grunt, his cock twitching inside you— losing his mind how divine your gummy walls hugging him.

his grip tightens as though the very essence of his existence hinges on holding you close, as if the mere thought of losing you again would shatter him beyond repair. his eyes, half-lidded and hazy with longing, mirror the fervor that burns in your own, each glance a shared promise that defies the world's attempts to pull you apart. your breaths mingle in the space between, warm and uneven, and the quiet sounds of pleasure that escape your lips mingle with his, a symphony of yearning that drowns out the rain still drumming against the windowpanes.

his hair, still wet from the downpour, clings to his forehead in unruly strands, a testament to the chaos of moments past and your fingers trace the delicate line of his jaw, committing every inch of him to memory as if to carve him into the very fabric of your soul. yet even in the wild disarray, there is a beauty to him that makes your heart stutter—a raw, vulnerable magnificence that only you are privy to in these stolen moments.

his lips part, tremble against yours, a soft gasp escaping as your bodies move in tandem, meet, a slow and deliberate rhythm that leaves no room for anything but the two of you, a slow and deliberate mingling of desire and desperation, each motion a silent plea that neither of you will ever let go. you feel his pulse beneath your fingertips, wild and unsteady, beating in time with the pounding of your own heart—a symphony of obsession that neither of you could ever hope to silence.

“s— ‘toru,” you whimper in his lips, leaving his breath hitches, and you feel the tremor of it against your skin, a shiver that ripples through the both of you, binding you even tighter together. his eyes, glistening and fervent, drink you in as if you are the only thing that can quench his unending thirst. and your own gaze, locked onto his, speaks volumes of the quiet, relentless obsession that ties your souls in knots too intricate to ever untangle.

every sigh, every gasp is a testament to the fervent reunion of souls that cannot be torn asunder, no matter how the world may try. your cheeks are flushed, mirroring the heat in his own, and there’s a delirious pleasure in knowing that he is yours again, has always been yours, will always be yours. in this moment, tangled and breathless, you both become a living prayer, a hymn to the unbreakable, unyielding force of a love that borders on madness.

his hands, desperate and sure, press into the small of your back, fingers splayed as though marking you, branding you as his own. and in the low, heady hum of your shared breaths, the world outside ceases to exist. here, there is only the two of you—obsessed, entwined, and utterly consumed by the fire that refuses to burn out. you are his sanctuary, his obsession, and as he holds you close, he knows with a fierce, undeniable certainty that he is yours in every possible way, now and always.

your fingers thread through his silver locks, tugging them with a possessive fervor that draws a breathless whine from his lips, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. you lean closer, your breath mingling with his, and capture his mouth in a searing kiss once again, tongues tangling in a desperate dance of need and familiarity. the taste of him is intoxicating, like the first sip of a forbidden wine, and you drink him in as though he were the very air you need to survive.

your other hand traces down, fingers curling into the tender flesh of his thigh, nails digging crescents into his skin with a fervor that borders on reverence and possession. each mark you leave is a silent declaration—he is yours to hold, yours to break, yours to ruin, yours to love in this raw, unfettered way. his breath stutters— his body responding to the sting of your touch, every nerve alight with the electric thrill of your shared desire, a sharp intake that lingers in the air, mingling with the rhythm of your heartbeats that drum like a battle cry in the quiet room. his eyes, a storm of love and desperation, gaze up at you as if you are the moon and the sun, his salvation and his undoing. his arms tighten around your waist, holding you as if you are the center of his universe, the axis upon which his world spins.

you rock your hips slowly, a deliberate and torturous rhythm that pulls soft gasps from his parted lips, each sound a sweet symphony that fills the space between your bodies— a slow, deliberate rocking that pulls soft moans from the both of you, the sound mingling like a hymn of devotion sung only for the night to hear. his eyes, half-lidded and burning with a mix of love and lust, meet yours, and in that gaze, you see the depths of his devotion laid bare. he is yours—utterly, entirely, irrevocably—and there is a heady power in knowing that he would lay the world at your feet if you only asked.

his hands grip your waist, fingers pressing into your skin with the intensity of a man holding on to his last breath, as if releasing you would be akin to the world losing its light. the way his body arches into yours, meeting each movement with a silent vow, speaks of a love that teeters on the edge of madness—a need so profound it eclipses reason.

“i love you,” you whisper against his lips, the words a soft, fervent prayer, slipping free like a sacred vow, a quiet affirmation of the bond that binds you both, unbreakable and infinite. his breath shudders as he pulls you even closer, his response a muffled moan as your movements grow more insistent, the heat between you building like a slow-burning flame that refuses to be quenched.

his eyes flutter shut at your confession, as if savoring the weight of it, letting it sink into his bones. he trembles beneath your touch, his body singing with the quiet, desperate need for more—more of your touch, your love, your presence that he clings to like a drowning man reaching for the surface. every breath you share feels like a stolen promise, each kiss a sacred bond that reaffirms the feverish connection that neither of you can ever escape.

your hands, one still tangled in his hair, the other gripping his thigh, hold him to you as if to anchor him in place, to remind him that this, here and now, is all that matters. his lips curve into a breathless smile against yours, his body arching into every touch, every caress, his own whispered confessions of love mingling with the soft, reverent sounds of your shared longing.

in this moment, every touch, every kiss, every whispered word is a testament to the fierce, unrelenting need that pulls you back to him time and time again. you are tangled in each other’s orbit, bound by an obsession that runs deeper than blood, stronger than any force that might try to tear you apart. and as you lose yourselves in the slow, deliberate rhythm of your of your bodies.

and as his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, you realize that this—this wild, chaotic, all-consuming love—is the very marrow of your existence. in his embrace, you find the echoes of every past longing, every unspoken promise, and the undeniable truth that he is yours, irrevocably and eternally. and as you move together, lost in the poetry of each other’s touch, you know that no force in this world or the next could be sever the bond that holds you— two souls bound by the beautiful relentless obsession of love.

as you move slowly on his lap, the friction and intensity make gojo’s breath hitch. a guttural, involuntary grunt escapes him, the sound a raw, visceral expression of the pleasure and need surging through him. his grip tightens around your waist, each movement of yours driving him further into a state of blissful surrender.

his eyes, clouded with a potent mix of passion and adoration, lock onto yours. “fuck,” he groans, the word slipping from his lips in a low, reverent murmur. the sound is both a plea and a confession, his body trembling with the weight of his overwhelming emotions.

he stutters, his voice faltering as he tries to articulate the depth of his feelings amidst the relentless pleasure. “i… i love you too,” he finally breathes out, the words trembling on his lips, laden with both desperation and devotion. his gaze is unwavering, filled with an intense, unspoken promise. “you are everything to me… every touch, every whisper… it’s all I’ve ever wanted, all I’ll ever need.”

his breath comes in ragged bursts, each one a testament to the consuming nature of his love and desire. he pulls you closer, his entire being attuned to the rhythm of your movements, the declaration of his love etched into every shudder, every gasp, as he loses himself in the exquisite intensity of the moment.

[meiieiri]

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 | 00

"You know what hurts the most? I've lost our children too...but you...you're still alive...and I've already lost you."

synopsis: the chairman of the gojo group of companies, gojo satoru, is in need of an heir and quick. however, with a wife who is struggling to conceive and his subsequently crumbling marriage, he is forced to explore other options which now comes in the form of his wife's secretary.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

warnings: 18+ angst, smut, mentions of depression and miscarriage.

You and Satoru Gojo are cursed.

Your marriage began to fracture the day you learned you could never have children, each passing moment turning your marriage into a silent battleground of unspoken regrets and fading hopes. People would tell you that it’s probably just bad luck or wrong timing and that sooner or later, you and your other half would be blessed with your hearts’ desires. All you had to do was wait for the right moment, but no one told you that you’d be waiting forever.

“Your tie is crooked again.”

You step into the now empty groomsmen suite where your husband is peering at himself in the mirror. Just a few years ago, he played the role of the groom, anxiously waiting for the hour he’d be linked to you forever. Now, he’s a groomsman in someone else’s wedding and hopefully a happier marriage.

Satoru looks up at the mirror to see you standing there as if on ceremony, waiting for him to invite you in. Ironically, that pretty much sums up your entire marriage: your shared heartbreak has become a gaping chasm between the two of you. You and Satoru could only hope that his sister’s wedding wouldn’t end up like yours – as lonely and quiet as a solitary mountain lake.

“I got it. You should head down with the other bridesmaids.” Satoru unloops his tie, his heart stubbornly refusing yours.

A numbness coats your veins when he simply gives up, and unbuttons his white collar for a more laid-back look instead, of course he’d rather do that — do anything else — than accept help from you, than speak more than two sentences to you, than be anywhere near you. That’s just how things are now after running head first into a happily ever after that was never going to come. “Fine. I’ll see you downstairs then.”

“Sure,” Satoru says nonchalantly.

He half-expected you to linger by the door for another minute, but his heart caves in when he sees you’ve simply left. But what did he expect? The void that exists between the two of you had grown too vast, and the brighter days of your marriage had been swallowed by the abyss of unmet expectations, and endless heartbreak. And now, all that’s left of the chaos is two lovers who have now ventured into the realm of reluctant strangers driven apart by fate.

Satoru walks over to the now closed door, and somehow sensing that you were still on the other side, he presses a hand to the cold wooden material, as if to say, “I’m still here.”

He hears a soft sniffle, then the painful sound of your receding footsteps and Satoru is, for the first time in one thousand four hundred sixty one days of calling himself your husband, utterly alone.

“Time to go home,” Satoru says monotonously, his right hand buried in his pocket while his free one holds the now settled hospital bill. He looks at you blankly, almost as if he expected this. After all, when you showed him the positive pregnancy test fifteen weeks ago, unlike the preceding ones, Satoru didn’t bother to make it public.

“I-I’m so…” you trail off, your eyes brimming with tears. “...Sorry.”

“I know. You always are,” your husband curtly replies. He’s lost count of how many times you’ve been in this exact position: by your hospital bed with a medical abstract in his hand with the words “spontaneous miscarrriage” printed on it.

He was getting sick of it. It’s almost like a nightmare that never seems to end. This would have been your fifth child, and yet again, you and Satoru would never have the chance to hold them in your arms for even just a second until they’re brutally ripped away from you. He looks at you again and sighs when you don’t move a muscle, seemingly still in shock from the ordeal.

“If you’re not ready to go, I’ll just have our driver pick you up.”

“...Alright.”

“Okay.”

He turns to leave but then your broken voice cuts through the thick air of the hospital room. “Satoru…? You don’t blame me right?”

Satoru screws his eyes shut, that was the last question he wanted to answer. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you that he has never blamed you for miscarrying, that, in the four years since he married you and the four years he’s had to witness child after child slip through your fingers like it was never meant to be, he’s never felt a tinge of disappointment towards you.

He told you not to go to the dental mission today, since you were on strict bedrest with your placenta previa but you made all these bullshit reassurances that you weren't going to push yourself too hard. He wants to say that you should have been more careful, that you should have listened to him. Yet, even then, he also couldn’t bring himself to tell you, his poor wife, his hurting better half, all the resentment he’s been harboring, so, he does the only thing he can do.

He runs away, far away from you when you need him the most. You stifle a sob when he doesn’t even crane his head back to look at you like the act of doing so would make him sick. “Get some rest," he simply tells you, unaware that this would be the last real conversation you’d have for a while because the next two months would be weeks of gut-wrenching silence. "Today...must have been hard for you."

He was wrong, you think sullenly to yourself as he leaves you alone. Every day has already become unbearable for you, every breath has become debilitating. What right did you have to breathe when all your children, each one departing with a piece of your and Satoru’s hearts, had been denied that very right?

Looking back at it now, Sayuri’s wedding was just like yours. What else would you have expected considering that you helped with the preparations from the color scheme to the venue’s decorations? Sayuri valued your input, and with you, despite being the junior party, having gotten married first, surely, you must have known what you were talking about when it comes to weddings. Too bad you couldn’t say the same thing about knowing a thing or two about marriage.

As you watch the happy couple from the top table, you utter a silent prayer in your heart that Satoru’s sister will never have to face the trials you have faced.

Satoru stands up from his seat, guiding you to the top table with a hand on the small of your back to bid your farewells and final well wishes. “Sayuri, it’s getting late. Y/N and I should be heading back now.” A look of disappointment crosses Sayuri’s face but it is quickly overshadowed by understanding.

You watch with a small smile as your husband embraces his older sister, whispering something in her ear that causes her to land a jab on Satoru’s abdomen. Stepping forward, you kiss Sayuri’s cheek in a show of sisterly love. “Congratulations again, nee-san.”

“Thanks for helping out again, Y/N,” Sayuri says sweetly, utterly grateful to all the assistance you extended for her special day. “I’m hoping you’ll help me for my next event, right?”

You return her smile with a slight tilt of your head; the two of you have been friends long before Satoru came into the picture, what with her being your ever supportive senior in university. The trust that you forged with Sayuri is often a running joke in the Gojo family. It’s often said that you got your husband’s sister’s approval long before you even knew each other. And it was true. The way she has stood as an older sister figure for you even during your darkest days fighting your loneliest battles is something you will forever cherish.

Satoru casts a look at new brother-in-law who is busy mingling with his own family; he makes a face at his sister’s remark. “You’re already planning for a second wedding when you’ve only been married for six hours?” your husband playfully jokes about his sister’s very questionable comment.

Come to think of it, that’s the first time you’ve seen Satoru smile in a long while, and when he did, it had to be because he joked about the tricky business of remarriage. It pains you to think that he has smiled so seldomly that you’ve almost forgotten how he looks when he’s not in a constant state of silent detachment, oceans deep in his chemtrail of thoughts. You were glad you weren’t a mind reader, dreading hearing his thoughts aloud: his silent hatred of you, the final goodbye having already materialized and rehearsed millions of times in his mind.

But couldn’t he see that you were still trying? You desperately want to hold his hand in a silent oath: “I’m still here.” but you think better of it, fearing that you might just lose him altogether.

Then again, a ghost of a mirthless smile appears on your lips for a brief second, if there’s anything you were good at, it was losing people.

You are pulled out of your thoughts by Sayuri’s sarcastic laugh. “Ha-ha. If I’m lucky, this’ll be my only wedding.” She sticks her tongue out at Satoru who merely rolls his eyes in response. “Anyway, as I was saying,” she turns to you with a hesitant smile, mulling over if this was a good idea given your circumstances.

Just then, her husband cordially approaches the three of you. “Hey,” he greets his wife with an affectionate kiss. “I got you this,” he places a champagne flute in Sayuri’s hand. “Alcohol-free, I swear.”

Satoru’s face falls momentarily. How long has it been since he kissed his wife like that? No, how long has it been since you put up those unscalable walls around the fortress that is your heart, blocking him out at every corner? He glances your way in an attempt to search your face – for anything to reassure him that your marriage was still salvageable, for anything to let him know you and him were still worth saving – he isn’t even surprised when you instantly turn your gaze away from him.

Guess he got his answer.

“Did you tell them?” your new brother-in-law asks with the same trepidation in his tone as his wife’s.

You make the cardinal mistake of asking. “Tell us what?” you ask, puzzled.

The next few words hit you like a tidal wave. Your prayers of Sayuri never having to experience the anguish you felt have been answered, in place of your own unanswered prayers for yourself and Satoru.

“That…we’re expecting.”

You don’t even notice that you’ve already muttered out a brief: “O-oh. I’m…happy for you.” As you numbly offer Sayuri her congratulations, you think back to all the times you and Satoru have had to hear: “I’m so sorry for your loss”. It wasn’t fair how happiness almost always helplessly slips through your and Satoru’s fingers in the form of a silent heartbeat at twelve weeks, or a fertilized egg that never truly grows into an embryo.

If there really was such a thing as “hell” or “damnation”, then yours came in the form of an empty nursery, an empty stroller, unused onesies, unsung lullabies and unflipped bedtime story books.

Satoru handles the news with an agonizing grace, his voice gruff and raw with held back emotions. He clears his throat, repeating the congratulations. “How far along are you?” he asks his sister, his demeanor shrouded with a profound yearning for the same thing, if not for him, then for you because if anything, of all people, you deserve that kind of joy too. Maybe even more so than him. He was fine with just having his wife back, after all. The succession of the entire conglomerate would always come second to you.

Even if you didn’t know it. Even if you no longer cared to believe him.

“Eighteen weeks,” Sayuri answers quietly. “I-I was gonna ask if Y/N would be interested in helping out with the baby shower but, I’d understand if this feels like a bad idea–”

“--It’s okay,” you defensively cut off Sayuri, refusing to hear another word of pity, another syllable along the lines of: “I’m sorry.”. You’ve had enough of that. “I-I’d be happy to…really.”

With your unconvincing words, your quartet falls into a tense silence. You and Satoru don’t dare to stay long enough for either of them to try saving the conversation, so, with a polite and final few well-wishes, you leave. Just as the two of you settle into the backseat of his car for the return journey to Tokyo, tiny droplets of rain begin to collect on the windows.

“...Why can’t we be like that?” you break the overwrought silence with a genuine question, a slight tremble in your voice.

“We were like that too,” he replies almost nostalgically, recalling the many precious hushed conversations each night in your marital bed, the mornings when you and him gaze at the other’s sleeping form, thinking to yourselves how lucky you two were to have each other, the warmth that came with being so in love.

It was an age long abandoned.

Now, you two were silent, your conversations not extending past two brief sentences, your bed is now empty and cold, and your luck had run out the same way your love died out.

“Once.”

You spoke of your union as if it were a house of cards that’s been torn apart by the wind, the two of you are now all but decimated, to the point where one can only wistfully pine after what had been lost that can no longer be restored. And after the many arguments that had erupted between you and him, unbearably, this was the one thing you could never argue about.

Satoru nods, echoing your words with a heavy heart. “Yeah…once.”

The fact is: no one knows what happened or rather, no one — not even your OBGYN — could have expected this. It was a normal day, you and Satoru, as excited parents-to-be, had booked the appointment and all the succeeding ones leading to your supposed due date ahead of time, so, you arrived at your usual schedule of 3:30 PM, and after a quick check of your vitals, the OB moves to conduct the standard ultrasound.

As you move to lie down on the bed, it seems you’ve only just noticed the bag Satoru was carrying. You look at it curiously. “What’s that?” you ask, pointing to the moss green canvas bag on his lap.

“Your hospital bag,” Satoru says enthusiastically, already opening it. “See? I packed three pairs of socks for you, a sweater, your lip balm, hairbrush, lotion and — why are you laughing?” he asks when you snort with laughter. The OB is also shaking her head in amusement. Clearly, your oblivious husband kinda missed the memo.

“Babe,” you explain amidst your giggles. “I’m not having the baby today.”

“What do you mea—oh,” He awkwardly looks at the hospital bag. Satoru Gojo, the owner of the ever powerful Gojo conglomerate, the darling of Kabutocho and the Nikkei Index, a holder of a dual degree in finance and business analytics, further supplemented with an MBA from Wharton, looks flustered. He had forgotten that he’s only supposed to bring that during the delivery.

The OB chuckles as she lifts your shirt up to squeeze some of the ultrasound gel on the taut skin of your still mostly flat but slightly swollen belly. “Seems dad was a bit too excited,” she remarks. You shift at the cold gel, but relax after a while.

“Well, it’s our first, after all,” you glance at Satoru with a warm smile. He brings your hand to his lips and he sits down on the chair, his eyes altering between you and the monitor. You squeeze his hand as the probe glides over your midriff. The image shifts slightly on the screen and the OB zooms in on the small image of your baby.

She makes a note of the growth. “6.0 centimeters at 12 weeks,” the OB says, pleasantly surprised. “Now, would the two of you like to hear the baby’s heartbeat?”

You and Satoru share a brief look of happiness and nod simultaneously.

Instantly, images of what life would look like from now on flash in your minds: Satoru would constantly be chasing after the little tornado that would be your child, while you’d be too busy cleaning up after the mischievous duo. If it’s a girl — which is Satoru’s preference but he’ll never actually say that out loud — Satoru would be almost always willing to indulge them. Their little girl needs your lipstick to give her daddy a makeover? Say no more, he’s already rummaging through your makeup bag. Oh, she wants a tiara? He’s already on the phone with his ex-fling who also happens to be Swarovski’s top designer to commission a tiara piece for his little princess.

And honestly, the same can be said for you if the baby does turn out to be a boy. It would be a joy to have a little Satoru of your own. You’d shower them with kisses every morning, and every night before he went to sleep, never shying away from letting him know how much you love him.

Or at least that was the plan.

Call it a mother’s intuition but something doesn’t feel right. Worry pricks at your entire being when all you can hear is the drone-like hum of the examination room’s AC unit, the frequency adjustment of the ultrasound machine and the sound of your own hearts breaking at the sound of silence.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Gojo—”

“—What’s happening?” you ask frantically, your head abruptly lifting from the pillow in alarm to look at the screen. “What’s happening, ‘Toru? Why can’t I hear anything?” you look to Satoru for answers — no, perhaps you knew the answer all along — you simply looked at him, pleading with him to tell you that this wasn’t real, that you’ve probably just gone momentarily deaf or something, and that by some miracle, your baby was still there.

But as Satoru simply purses his lips, gently easing you back onto the bed, his eyes brimming with tears that were now falling in the crook of your neck, silently sobbing into your shoulder with you. You could faintly hear the OB amidst your sobs already paging the hospital pharmacy for a prescription of Mifepristone and Misoprostol to assist with emptying your womb. Not that it wasn’t already empty to begin with now that your baby is gone, and all they’ve left in their wake is a void in their parent’s hearts and a sense of confusion.

Why? Why did they just up and leave like that before you even got to hold them, to see their tiny face as they sleep in their hospital bassinet next to your bed? Did your baby somehow sense that you and Satoru would be horrible parents? Were you unworthy of their love, so unworthy that you’d never get to meet them?

“Shh, shh,” Satoru tries to soothe you in spite of his own turmoil, the thought of losing the baby too heavy on his mind to do anything other than attempt to comfort you. “I’m here…I’m right here.”

He was right. You both were still here but gazing back at the black and white image of your now sleeping angel, you’ll just have to learn to accept that they aren’t.

Satoru has been acting strange all day.

For one, he sent you a good morning text message wishing you luck with your patients today just as you were about to change into your scrubs when you arrived at your dental clinic in Tokyo Midtown, and just after receiving that message, your secretary, Kozue, happily enters your office with your takeaway coffee in one hand and a small gift box in the other.

“You know, Mr. Gojo would be a horrible secret admirer,” she remarks simply, placing the box above the patient records you were reviewing.

“Why is that?” you ask, finishing up on your 9:00 patient’s appointment sheet.

Kozue gestures to the Bvlgari logo on the small box. “He clearly has a thing for high-end jewelry brands, it’s either he sends you Bvlgari or Swarovski.” You breathe a small laugh at her keen observation.

“Looks like your observation skills are improving, pretty soon, I might just assign a patient to you,” you joke. “Anyway, it’s our fifth anniversary today, hence the gift-giving. I left him a new pair of Giorgo Armani loafers on the closet display this morning.”

“You two are so extra,” Kozue chortles. “My boyfriend and I don’t get to do all this.”

You nod sympathetically. “When’s he coming back again?” you ask as you carefully open the box to reveal a pair of Serpenti Seduttori diamond earrings with a blue sapphire on the head. Kozue watches you try them on with a soft smile on her face, it’s not often anyone gets to see you put your hair down.

“Around next year,” Kozue gushes. “But honestly, well, uh…don’t freak out, but—”

“—You plan to join him in Chicago once he gets his MBA,” you answer for her.

You’ve seen her often searching for apartments in the South Loop, indicating her future plans to leave the clinic and the country altogether for greener pastures overseas. You know that the long distance relationship has been hard for her, often using her breaks to speak with her boyfriend on the phone just as he’s about to turn in for the night.

It’s almost funny to think about: that Kozue and her lover, despite being forced into a long distance relationship due to their differing circumstances, were just about as close as literal soulmates get, while you and Satoru live together and yet you’re worlds away from each other.

But whatever, some people just get dealt a better hand.

“It’s alright. I really don’t mind if this would be our last year working together if it means you get to pursue your happiness elsewhere. The clinic is nothing compared to the world, after all.”

Kozue nods in thanks. This is just another one of the many things she admires you for. She knows that she isn’t as tenured as the rest of the dentists in the clinic, and honestly, she didn’t have a doctorate in dentistry either, but you still trusted her enough to be your secretary, and you never made her feel that she was in any way inferior to you or anyone else — it’s all just part of your caring nature even if you do have

“Now, you’re just making me wanna stay even more, boss,” Kozue pretends to wipe a tear from her eye, making you laugh.

Her loyalty is always something you’re grateful for and quite frankly, you couldn’t imagine the clinic functioning as well as it is without her. Sure, sometimes she’s annoyingly optimistic sometimes and just unbearably too happy in the mornings, but you had to hand it to her, in an office full of sleep-deprived dentists like yourselves, Kozue’s infectious enthusiasm is probably just as essential as good quality coffee beans. She always knows when to cheer everyone up, especially you.

“Well, that’s great, since you always know how to get me out of a tight spot,” you half-joke.

“Always!” she holds up her thumb in affirmation. The intercom suddenly pages her and she checks her watch. “Looks like our first patients are coming in, I’ll see you later. And happy anniversary to the two of you!”

The rest of the afternoon rolls by uneventfully and before you know it, Satoru is already picking you up from work like he always does except this time, he’s carrying a bouquet of pink camellias.

He removes his sunglasses just as he steps into the building and you stand there for a bit, a little starstruck.

It’s no secret that your husband is good-looking, but it feels like an eternity since you’ve actually properly regarded him. It’s like seeing him for the first time all over again: your heart thumps in your chest and a blush creeps onto your cheeks. How long has it been since you’ve felt this way? Since the two of you spent time with each other? Since you both made a courageous effort to mend the gap between you and him?

Satoru also stands there, relief washing over him when he notices you wearing the earrings he got you. “Hey,” he greets, striding over to you. The bouquet is placed into your waiting hands and you feel you’ve been swept off your feet when he leans down to press a soft yet somehow yearnful kiss on your forehead.

“Hi…” You shyly greet your husband like he’s some guy you met on a blind date. You then realize he’s wearing the Armani shoes you got him. “Do they fit well?”

What kind of a question is that? Satoru is a size twelve and a half, you should know your husband the same way he should know how his wife prefers pearls over sapphire.

Satoru forces a wry smile. The shoes do feel a little pinchy but you didn’t need to get the impression that he doesn’t appreciate your gift. “Yeah, they’re great.” He glances at the earrings with a soft smile. “You look beautiful.”

“Tell that to the patient who thought I was a mushroom when I gave them nitrous oxide earlier,” you chuckled. Satoru snorted in laughter at that. “Happy anniversary, ‘Toru,” you whispered.

“Happy anniversary, Y/N,” he pulls you into a tight hug, and your heart swells with an uneasy but welcome joy.

Your arms instinctively wrap around your husband’s form which Satoru responds to with an indiscernible sniffle. The walk to the car is quiet but not tense and maybe not peaceful either, years of emotional distancing are not easily forgotten after all. But — you look at your and Satoru’s interlocked hands, noting how for once, it felt like they fit a little more perfectly together right now more than ever — maybe it’s a start.

There’s a saying that goes: “There is no calamity greater than lavish desires. There is no greater guilt than discontentment. And there is no greater disaster than greed.” In a game of poker, it’s said the winner is the first to rise once he gets his betting sum back, and in chess, oftentimes it is the aggressive players that slaughter pawn after pawn who do not realize their own territory has already been infiltrated by their opponent.

With that being said, you shouldn’t have pushed it. You should have been content with the small yet meaningful progress you and Gojo made. After a night out at Tokyo’s Stellar Sky Garden Lounge, the two of you practically stumble back into the penthouse in an intense haze of lust, desire and a banal and reckless greed. In Satoru’s defense, with the way that you were responding to his touch, tilting your head back to expose the delicate flesh of your neck as he nips on the skin like a man possessed, he thought that, at the very least, you were ready to be intimate with him after what felt like an eternity of you choosing to sleep in the guest room rather than your marital bed.

“H-Hah–S-Satoru, mnhh…”

Satoru expertly wraps his lips around your nipple, suckling at it, his nose tickling your mound. His other hand catches your other tit, squeezing at the tender nub eliciting a languid moan from your lips. “Shhh,” he releases your nipple momentarily, his tongue flicking against the bud. “Let me take care of you, babe…”

His hand trails down to your core, collecting your slick, rubbing up and down your slit, plunging a finger inside. He bites his lip at your warmth, he could already feel your familiar and tight walls. And he wasn’t even inside you yet. The thought of being inside you again sends a shiver of excitement down his spine, and he pushes you onto the soft mattress.

It’s been two years since your last miscarriage, two whole years that you’ve denied him of sexual intimacy. And Satoru doesn’t blame you. Having to endure loss after loss, it was expected that you’d withdraw into yourself, closing everyone off as you healed. But can’t you see he was hurting too? That he has wept too? That he also has his own fair share of damp tear-stained pillows? That he has, on many occasions, locked himself in his C-suite office after having had to endure another sleepless night of your relentless sobs in the other room?

He looks into your hooded eyes, and he sees the future you two have lost: you carrying his baby in your arms, cooing to them as you bounce them gently in your arms – now, Satoru isn’t religious, but that image is his heaven. Burying his length into your cunt, he chokes, letting out a pleasured groan that mixes with your own breathless whine. Soon, the bedroom is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin as he pounds into you at a desperate pace.

On your end, with every roll of his hips, tears prick your eyes.

This feels wrong.

No, this feels excruciating and terribly hollow. He’s never touched you like this. Sex with Satoru was always passionate, and loving. His hands would always intertwine with yours as he catches your lips in a searing kiss. He’s never like this. His captivating sapphire eyes held a loneliness to them.

As he’s bullying your cunt, you could feel yourself sinking into oblivion.

“Aah–” Satoru groans softly, his forehead pressed against your shoulder as looking at you was so painful for him right now. He doesn’t want to hate you, but he seems unable to love you all the same. What should he do? What can he do?

Suddenly, as he’s approaching his high, his hips melding into yours a little more forcefully and erratically, a dam of tears bursts wide open and you push back against him.

“Mm…’m getting close–ngh—gonna make you a mommy again, all round with my baby, you like that huh?” Satoru lifts your legs to his shoulders, thrusting into your weeping pussy, oblivious to the turmoil in your head. Two seconds ago, you wanted this. Now, you feel like you were gonna be sick at his ramblings of getting you pregnant again.

Fuck. You can’t do that anymore: getting pregnant and being led to believe that by some miracle, you’ll carry to term. Please just make it end.

“Satoru, d-don’t–ngh–p-please stop–”

“Shhh, ah…Y/N…gonna cum…gonna give you my baby—agh–”

He doesn’t seem to hear you. No, he pretends not to hear you outrightly rejecting him.

On your end, you felt like you were dying, with the overwhelming self-loathing in your heart, you couldn't even see Satoru’s desperate effort to restore the normal intimacy you two shared during the early parts of your marriage. But you didn’t care. Satoru didn’t deserve to make love to someone who’s already gone, to stick around for someone who can’t give him the happiness he deserves.

“Satoru, PLEASE STOP!”

“Fuck!” Satoru pulls out mid-thrust. Your heart clenches when he looks like he’s been slapped right across the face. He hastily finishes himself off and upon his release, he groans in frustration. He should have known you’d be this way. And fuck, he was angry at you. He was angry at himself for stupidly hoping that things were gonna get better. “You’re impossible!” he fumed, already pulling on his clothes, ready to abandon you.

“Satoru, wait! Where are you going?!” you pull the blanket to your chest, draping yourself as you follow him to the door.

“Anywhere! Anywhere but here!”

“You’ve never been here!” You accuse him without thinking and instant regret overruns you when Satoru lets out a scoff of disbelief. “Satoru, wait, I’m sorry!”

“Never?” Satoru’s jaw tenses. “What do you mean I wasn’t here?” He’s on the edge of losing it completely now. You had some nerve accusing him of that when he had to pick up the pieces — your pieces, the pieces of this shattered marriage. “Say it again, Y/N. Tell me exactly how I was never here.”

It was wrong of you to say that.

Painful memories begin flashing into your mind like a tragic montage: the uneaten and cold tray of food Satoru would leave outside the guest bedroom for you on the hardest and loneliest days of your life, the many instances he’s had to coax you to get out of bed by taking you to the places the two of you used to love, the countless nights he’s had to hold you, staying awake to hush you when you wake up sobbing from another nightmare.

“Satoru, no, I–I didn’t mean…that…”

He turns around to look you in the eyes, rage seeping through his usually calm ocean orbs. “You didn’t mean that? You sure sounded like you did!” He takes a step towards you, and you inch backwards, drawing your gaze to your feet in shame. “It’s fucking amazing how you don’t ‘mean to’ do anything! You didn’t mean to stand me up during our anniversary date last year too, the same way you didn’t mean to start sleeping in the guest bedroom every night–”

You flinch at the accusation dripping from his voice as he unloads all his heartache on you. “Stop…please stop–”

“And let me guess you didn’t mean to lose our children too!”

Your hand connects with his cheek and Satoru is stunned. Not at your slap. But at the vile words that just left his throat. He stares at you in shock, guilt written all over his face.

“Don’t you dare bring our children into this. You think this has been easy on me? Feeling a little life grow everyday in your womb only for them to just…be gone…one day when you wake up? You don’t know how difficult it is to lose a child!”

“And you don’t know how difficult it is to lose your wife!” Satoru retorts, his voice thick with exhaustion.

His eyes bear the scars of your shared heartbreak. He knows you’ve been struggling. Truly he does. And he wants nothing more than to take all your pain away from you, to spare you from the hell that you’ve been unfairly sentenced to. But why can’t you realize that you aren’t the only wounded party here?

“And you know what hurts the most?” His eyes gleamed with unshed tears, his voice cracking mid-sentence.

His gaze falls to the locket that held a small sonogram picture of your would have been fourth child which you wore everyday.

“I lost our children too. I grieved for them too. But you…you’re still alive but I’m already grieving for you like I've already lost you.”

Satoru doesn’t return to the bedroom again that night and the next morning, you both awake to a wedding portrait that now. sheltered a heartbroken wife’s teardrop stains, and a box full of baby items for disposal packed by a husband who has now, by all intents and purposes, given up.

Satoru slips out to the five star hotel's rooftop for some much needed air. Hopefully none of these pesky journalists saw him on his way here. But that probably just comes with the whole experience of celebrating the conglomerate's tenth anniversary. He finds you in the garden, seated on a bench next to a potted plant. Satoru approaches you quietly, sitting down next to you. "I thought I'd find you up here."

"Hmm? Yeah, it was starting to feel suffocating in there," you chuckled. "I think it was nice of you to choose the Tokyo Children's Hospital as this year's beneficiary," you nudge him lovingly. You were already excited for the upcoming courtesy visit and celebratory turnover of the 20 million yen donation from the Gojo clan's multinational conglomerate.

Satoru plants a loving kiss on your temple, pulling you close to his form, his head resting atop yours. It's been a year since you've gotten married and already, people were already getting antsy for a baby, but maybe none as anxious as your families who are more than excited to have a new little one running around their respective estates. "So, walk me through the event next week. What have you got planned?" he asks you candidly about your plans for the turnover.

"Well, I already contacted a catering company for the children's party, oh and of course, there'll be games and storytelling sessions," you share eagerly. "I even hired a magician and facepainter!"

Satoru hums at your plans. "Of course, it can't be a children's party without some facepainting action."

"You know facepainting isn't limited to children," you flash him an impish grin. Understanding the implication of your words, Satoru immediately shakes his head in adamant refusal. "Oh come on, as the Gojo Group of Companies's chairman, you have to lead by example, right?"

"They aren't my employees!" Satoru laughs. Before you could even pull your signature pout, he pecks your cheek. "But if that's what my wife wants, then, I'll have them paint my pretty white hair too."

You laugh along with him, sighing contentedly at this peaceful moment. "Hey, Satoru? Why don't we...make them a part of the permanent beneficiary list?" you suggest quietly. "I mean, we still have some room for them, right?"

Satoru contemplates the possibility of having the Tokyo Children's Hospital as a permanent beneficiary of the Gojo Group, yet, he agrees nonetheless. "You know what? I don't see why not, I'll be sure to talk to PR about it," he smiles softly. "We can even make it a tradition - having a fun get-together with the kids and their parents." Satoru's heart swells at the idea of one day bringing your own child along to these events, teaching them the importance of being altruistic and compassionate to others. You nod, seemingly sharing his thoughts. "Maybe someday, we can bring our own little one into the mix."

You nod against Satoru's warm embrace with a wistful smile dancing on your lips. "I'd like that. Logistically, it'd be faster for the two of us to distribute the goodie bags if we had an extra little pair of hands."

"It's a plan then," Satoru concurs joyfully.

——————

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[lymtw]

It's three in the morning and the sound of your phone vibrating against the bed wakes you from your peaceful slumber. You lazily reach for the blinding light next to you, instantly knowing who's on the other end when you see the blue diamond emoji.

"Hello..."

You were very much asleep, the raspiness in your voice making it that much more evident.

"Hey, sorry to wake you. Are you okay to talk for a bit?"

Satoru sounds like he's wide awake.

"Don't worry about it. What's up?"

You roll onto your side, your phone between your ear and your pillow. If you close your eyes for more than three seconds, you'll fall asleep again.

There's a slight pause between your response and his. Maybe the signal is bad or he didn't hear you.

"Is everything alright, Satoru?"

"I can't sleep."

He responds quickly this time. His tone didn't change. He didn't sound like he was in distress or too worried about the fact.

"Oh. Uh... have you tried drinking some chamomile tea? I personally don't like it, but when I need to rest, I suck it up and force myself to drink a cup."

He chuckles on the line. You always do what is best for you, even if it's not something you particularly enjoy.

"I think i'm just missing you a lot. Can I come over?"

It was strange to think he hadn't tried a tea remedy for his inability to sleep, but who were you to tell him that? Sleep deprivation does things to people.

"Right now? It's a little late, don't you think?"

You blink slowly, trying to adjust your blurry vision in the dark.

"I promise I won't fall asleep behind the wheel. I really want to see you. Please say yes."

You shut your eyes tightly and open them, your vision clearing up a little. When have you ever said 'no' to him? He always manages to change your mind when you do.

You sigh.

"Okay. You have the spare key to my apartment. I'm going back to sleep."

"I'll be there in like fifteen minutes. Love you, bye!"

You can hear the joy in his tone. He was genuinely so uncomfortable being alone with himself, that he had to wake you up so late at night to invade your space.

–

You knocked out again, once you hung up the phone. You were in such deep sleep that you didn't even notice when Satoru got to your apartment, or when he entered your room.

You did feel the bed weigh down when he laid down next to you, and your nose couldn't ignore his sweet, sweet scent.

"Baby," he whispered. "I'm here."

"Okay, now go to sleep," you mumble, your eyes still closed.

"Come here." He effortlessly turns you over and pulls you close, lifting your leg over his hip. His hand went up to your face, caressing your delicate, peaceful features before scattering kisses all over it, making sure to elongate the duration of the ones he leaves on your lips.

"Baby," he coos. "Come on, kiss me back."

He's like a dog—constantly begging for your attention. The thought makes you crack a smile, one Satoru does not miss.

"I know you're awake." He smiles, putting your leg back in place, before rolling over until he's on top you.

"Fucking hell, 'toru," you break, cracking up at how he had no remorse after crushing your body.

"There's my pretty baby. I'm so glad you're awake now."

"It's your fault," you grumble.

"If wanting to love you is a crime, then throw me in the slammer and toss the key." His nose dove into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. "You're just so pretty, and you're all mine."

His affection was starting to evolve into more than lovey dovey kisses. His lips stung every time they met your delicate neck. His hands were roaming beneath your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He loved the way your breathing quickened. It had him chasing more of the reactions associated with the hummed melodies.

"You are mine, right?" He knows the answer, but hearing you say it from time to time always makes him happy. His icy blue eyes can read your response before you even form it. He loves flustering you with eye contact tied with touches that burned with desire. To top it all off, he loves teasing you to see the way you scramble your response. "It's okay if you're not." He smirks, catching the way your eyes widened the slightest bit. "That's subject to change, isn't it?" He eggs on.

"I'm yours, Satoru. I belong to you," you say, making it crystal clear to him. "All yours." With this, he wouldn't doubt it again until the next time he wasn't with you.

"Yeah? You know, I would've done anything to hear those words from you." He leans down to kiss you, a spike of arousal hitting him when you bit his lip and sucked on it.

"Oh... you can't do that. I will put a baby in you." He has never said anything so seriously.

"I dare you to put a baby in me," you say, teasingly. You know he won't do it. He's not ready to share you yet.

"Keep acting like that and I will."

His lips ghost the column of your neck, trailing down your chest and lower to your abdomen. Your oversized gown of a t-shirt was the only thing standing between your body and his eyes. He pulled it up and off with a little help from you, tossing it aside after.

You were a little nervous about what was running through Satoru's head. He was devouring you with just his eyes and already you felt so flustered.

"God, don't ogle me like that, 'toru." You put your hands over your breasts—a makeshift bra to cover what he was staring at.

"Let me see you, baby," he pries, gently. He puts his hands on yours, not pulling them away as to not make you do anything you don't want to do. You end up moving your hands on your own, but turn away, unable to hold his gaze when he's watching you that way.

He cups your breasts, his thumbs swiping over your nipples, instantly making them pebble. He could feel the way you tried to press your thighs together, your relief disturbed by his body wedged between your legs. You tried your hardest to remain composed, but his fingers wouldn't let up. His eyes were glued to your face, watching intently until you let out a shaky breath.

"Mhm..." he hummed, grinning at your bashful attempt to stay quiet. "I know this is driving you crazy."

"Shut... up."

"If it isn't, why can I feel you rubbing up against my stomach."

You stop and your cunt throbs at the suddenness of it.

"Just let it out and we can move on. Let me hear that pretty little ah-"

"Fuck," you whimper, interrupting his instructive moan. Your back arches slightly off the mattress, your hands flying to grip his wrists, tightly.

"Good girl," he praises, his fingers letting off your tortured peaks. Little butterfly kisses are placed between your breasts, trailing down to your stomach, where he spends so much time eliciting giggles from you.

His fingers hook around the elastic band of your shorts and panties, pulling them both down in one swoop.

"I didn't know kissing turned you on so much," he says, eyeing the glossy remnants left in your underwear.

"'toru..." you whine, feeling somewhat embarrassed about the amount of arousal you feel at the simplest touches from him.

"What? I'm not complaining one bit. It's cute."

He slides two fingers between your folds, easily collecting your sweetness. You jolt at the sudden contact, looking at him with doe eyes.

"Oh, baby. I don't deprive you of my touch that much, do I?"

You shake your head as he continues to collect your nectar, his fingers dipping in slightly to fully coat his fingertips.

"My sensitive princess." He smiles, softly. "How many times do you wanna cum?"

He never asks you this, always just giving you everything he can give or what you can take. You go for a small number, not wanting to seem excessively needy.

"Maybe two times? Please?" Your voice sounds meek. Like you're asking him for the impossible.

Satoru just chuckles. "How 'bout we triple that number?"

–

"S-Satoru—fuck— just like that, like that!" Your head pushes back against the pillow, your hands beside your head, scrunching up the sheets.

This was the fourth orgasm. There was cum spotted over your inner thighs and sweat layered over both your bodies. He had driven you to insanity like he planned.

"More, baby?" He grunts, thrusting with his continuous pace.

"Please," you cry out, fresh tears welling in your eyes again.

Satoru loved watching the tears stream down your face because he got to lean down and kiss them away. He takes the opportunity to praise you— to tell you how good you're being for him.

Your back arched and you braced yourself for the intensity of your next orgasm. Satoru swallowed your moans, kissing you fervently through his own rush. His breathing stuttered when he felt your nails clawing at his back, and once again his cum spurted into you. His breathing was heavy through the nose due to his insistence of kissing you until he you patted him for air.

"Fuck," you muttered. You let out an out of breath laugh, your chest rising and falling quickly as you tried to even out your breathing.

"That's five, baby." He exhales sharply, leaning back and running a hand through his dampened locks. You look at him with twinkling eyes, a smirk being thrown in your direction from your admiration.

"Come here," you say, outstretching your arms towards him. Satoru immediately fills the vacancy, sighing when you rake your nails against the nape of his neck. "Want you to take your time with this last one."

He takes that as a green light to start up again. He guides his cock into you again, savoring the hum that leaves you when he stuffs you again and begins his slow rhythm.

"'toru?" Your voice sounded sultry to his ears.

"Hm?"

"This won't happen again. I hope you know that." You're trying your hardest not laugh or make any sounds that take from the meaning of what you're saying.

He had to raise his head to meet your gaze. Something in the way he looked at you made you believe that this would definitely happen again.

"I hope it does. I love having you under me."

"It's inconvenient. It's so late, 'toru. Why can't we fuck when i'm not trying to sleep? Like in the daytime, or earlier in the night?"

His lips trace your jawline, and you just know he's going for your neck. Satoru lives for pointing out the marks he left on you, the day after.

"Simple," he hums. "I want you to myself." His hips continue to rock into you at the same languid pace. "At night, nobody is gonna take you from me. You won't be distracted and I get all your attention to myself." He kisses your neck. "You're all mine at night. Nobody expects you to be awake."

You gasp when he hits a spot that aches deliciously.

"Come on, baby. Give it to me," he murmurs into your neck. You can feel the way his back ripples as he instinctively picks up the pace. He was overwhelming, thrusting deeper and deeper like he was trying to consume you. What was supposed to be a slow drive towards your final orgasm of the night, turned into him unapologetically using his stamina to lure everything he could out of you. He was almost too much with the way his mouth was ruthless towards your neck and the bruising grip he kept on your hips. You were rendered the smallest thing for him.

"Satoru," you moaned, mindlessly grabbing onto his shoulder blades.

"I know, sweetheart, I know." He kisses you, tenderly, heavily contrasting the savage speed of thrusts.

You whimpered into the lip lock. Your heels dug into the mattress and your toes curled from the intensity of the pleasure you felt. Your breathing became heavier but Satoru refused to unlink his lips from yours. He couldn't when the sounds you made tasted like heaven on his tongue. His own sounds mingled with yours, a harmony that let you know that you weren't the only one feeling good. He was rutting into you, a telltale sign that he was about to cum.

"Mmm..." he hums, before unlatching his lips from yours. He panted as he watched you unravel beneath him, the smallest pinch between your brows as you gushed on him again. The way your walls spasmed around him had him following right after, another load painting your walls.

He grinned at you devilishly, the expression followed by a bright and sunny, airy chuckle. He pulls out of you, and looks down to watch your combined fluids slowly ooze out of you.

"Damn, you really tried putting a baby in me." You sigh, heavily, immediately regaining his attention. "Why do we fuck like this every time?" You rub your eyes, your sleepiness coming back around.

"I'll get one in there someday." He rubs his palm over your stomach. "And also, it's always like that because I love the face you make when you cum and you love the process of giving me that sight." His eye conveyed a seductiveness to their expression that kept you in check.

Your face goes red, warm to the touch. "Shut up." You sit up and playfully shove him.

"I get to cover you in semipermanent kisses, too." His hand comes up to the side of your neck and his fingers trace the red smudges that will darken over time. You roll your eyes, yet still put your hand over his, bringing it to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles.

"We should shower. It's almost five in the morning." You ignore the mischievous glint in his eyes and the way he's obviously trying to suppress a boyish grin.

"Carry me, please?"

Satoru chuckles, knowing exactly why you want him to carry you.

[sttoru]

‘i told you once, that only two things will have me; you and death.’

☀︎｜tags. gojo satoru x female reader. fluff, angst, comfort. themes of insecurity: trust issues kinda (by reader). reader gets called ‘baby, princess, angel’. self indulgent. proof read? whats that

“aww, there’s my hardworking girl,” satoru coos whilst his arms move to hold your body captive against his chest in a much needed hug, “and she’s still lookin’ as pretty as ever! my god — c’mere.”

your over-excited lover cups your face in his hands and holds it like that for a second to admire. his thumb slides from your cheekbone to your lips, gently parting them before pressing a deep kiss to your mouth. of course, he doesn’t leave it by that. satoru never does.

“pretty,” a kiss on your right cheek — “beautiful,” a kiss on your left one — “gorgeous,” a kiss on the tip of your nose — “amazing”, a kiss on your forehead — “sweetest,” a kiss on your chin — “lovely”, a kiss on the top of your head;

maybe it was the stress of the previous days that made you tear up. satoru has made it a daily routine: you come home, he welcomes you with open arms, showers you with his unending love and attention until you physically have to pull him away from your body. you sometimes ask yourself what you did to deserve someone so loving.

if satoru had heard you say the latter out loud, he would have kissed your mouth again to shut the thought down instantly. ‘you deserve everything and more’, you silently recall him saying once.

“stop that.” you mutter. the ‘that’ referring to the butterfly kisses and tight hugs he’s giving you. you tried not to seem in the mood for receiving his affection today. the muffled giggles leaving through your gritted teeth tell another story however.

“nu-uh,” satoru lets out a low chuckle, going right back to giving you what you deserve, “it’s like you’re askin’ me to stop breathing, baby. i can’t just not do this.”

satoru lifts you up into his strong arms and brings you over to the kitchen counter, settling you there - somewhere away from all that he had been cooking since the morning. he’s grinning from ear to ear, glancing from the covered plates near the stove and back to you.

you tilt your head curiously as you watch satoru grab one plate and uncover it, revealing the content like it was a big surprise—

“open up f’me, my princess.” your lover hums as he’s already guiding a piece of cake to your lips. your favorite cake which he had oh-so-obviously cooked himself judging by the messy look of it. your gaze lingers on the piece for a second to appreciate the gesture.

when you look back up at satoru, his eyes are already on yours — patiently waiting for you to let him feed you. his blue eyes are sparkling with a sense of pure excitement; one he only has around you. his love for you was almost overwhelming at times like these.

“why?”

the simple, one word question made the white sorcerer stop in his tracks. his head cocks to the side, eyelashes fluttering lightly in confusion, though the handsome smile on his face remains. ‘why’ could mean a lot of things in this context; why do you want to feed me? why do you want me to eat this? why should or even would i?

out of all the possible interpretations, satoru knew the exact one you had meant the moment he saw the tears that welled up at the corners of your eyes; ‘why do you care so much?’

“do i need a reason to?” his voice was smooth and soft. almost way too soft now that he’s realised just how vulnerable you were in front of him. satoru’s smile only widens, however — the sight of his girlfriend being overwhelmed by his affection was one he couldn’t resist.

it’s part of your charm. the charm you don’t know about; the charm that made the gojo satoru fall head over heels for you. your lover shakes his head with a light-hearted laugh, putting the slice of cake back down on the plate so he could hold your hands in his.

“i love you, yeah?” he kisses the back of your hands with utmost care before planting another one on your forehead again. satoru cradles your head against his chest afterwards, making you rest your weary body against his for as long as you needed it; his warmth and comfort, “it’s because i love you. that’s the only reason why, angel.”

you just nod in response — needing a moment of silence to recover, which satoru grants you without it having to be asked verbally. it’s like he knows just what goes on in your little head and is always updated about your changing feelings.

that’s what surprises you most. satoru’s super attentive to every single detail about you. from your unnoticeable habits to the big facts. that is what love truly is. that is how it feels like to have a man love you unconditionally—without any underlying or ulterior motives. without expecting anything back.

“i love you too, ‘toru. forever.” you reply eventually in a hushed whisper. the sorcerer only tightens his grip around your body, hugging you closer to his chest like his personal plushie. he nuzzles his nose into your hair — your scent both relaxing yet addicting.

“yeah,” satoru sighs in content and closes his eyes—allowing them to rest. all his senses are focused on making you feel better. he won’t let go of you until he’s sure you understand that you’re deserving of it all; his loving hugs, kisses, words of affirmation, gifts, comfort, cuddles and support.

“forever and beyond that.”

satoru doesn’t mind reminding you how much he cherishes you. even if he has to remind you every day until the day he succumbs. you’re his number one priority; he’ll even make sure to tell you he loves you with his dying breath when the time comes.

he’ll make sure of it.

[arminsumi]

❀ 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝟐 Gojo Satoru / Geto Suguru

Falling in love despite a language barrier.

𝐂𝐡. 𝟐 | 𝐖𝐜. 𝟐.𝟗𝐤 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Satoru blinks awake to see your face. His heart beats harder.

結局昨日は夢ではなかったのか？ Yesterday was not a dream after all?

He's not an early bird at all, but from the first day of your visit he magically woke up early as if his soul was too excited to sleep when it knew you were right there, in the flesh. No screen. Just you.

When the first day starts, it feels like you've always been together. Was there ever a screen separating the two of you? And were you really going to disappear behind one again in just a month?

今のところ、彼女はここに留まるように感じています。彼女が訪問を終えて出発するとき、私は空港で赤ん坊のように泣くことになると思います。 For now, she feels like she's here to stay. I think I'm going to cry like a baby at the airport when she leaves after her visit.

Morning routines are carried out. The sky is cloudy at first, threatening rain, and by the time you three cluster into the kitchen to make breakfast together, it starts raining.

You and Satoru banter like two cats. Suguru's morning rasp is very strong.

"Satoru... uh... sugar?" you ask, preparing to make yourself a second one and automatically making Satoru another one, since he looks still very bleary-eyed even after spending an hour freshening up in the bathroom.

"...? Yes?" he tilts his head, then you raise the sugar cube jar. "Yes. Uh... four. Thank you."

Suguru's blushing because of the cute tension between you and his best friend. It fills the whole kitchen, which already felt full with their two bodies and a third one now. Everyone keeps bumping elbows and yet not complaining about it, in fact it's enjoyable to be squished together. Maybe because you three waited so long to be together in person, you don't mind it.

There's a silent, ever-present comedy in the air about the tight proximity.

You hum happily, tossing in one, two, three... four? That's a lot of sugar. "Suguru, tell Satoru he mustn't have so much sugar all the time. It's not good for his health."

Suguru laughs. "I try to tell him that every day. But his sweet tooth is incurable."

"His dentist must hate him." you smirk at Satoru, who's been looking at you blushingly after hearing his name mentioned.

彼女の声が今では一番好きな音だと思います。 I think her voice is my favorite sound now.

もう一度私の名前を言ってください。 Please say my name again.

"Satoru? Coffee?" you interrupt his lovey-dovey thoughts and he suddenly reanimates himself, because for a moment there he zoned out and just stared at you with those pretty eyes.

"Mmm... thanks." he takes the coffee from you with a noticeable timidness that you can't quite explain. There's a lot about him that's indescribable, you're having a small internal crisis; aren't you supposed to be fluent in English? And yet you can't even begin to describe just how sweet and gentle Satoru behaves. The most you can do is use metaphors that barely justify him.

"Suguru, tell her... her voice is nice, and also sorry for cuddling you in my sleep (and that she can definitely kick me away at night if it bothers her.) Also!" (the three of you head into the living room, and Suguru habitually trips over the cat who stalks under his feet too quietly to notice) "Also tell her... if it rains today, does she still want to go out? Because if we go out in the rain, she might get sick. And I don't want her to get sick on her trip. Not that I'd mind taking care of you, Y/n, of course."

Suguru lets out a long sigh and pulls a funny face. You smile amusedly.

"...It's too early to be a translator..." he grumbles in English after Satoru overloads him.

"What? C'mon tell her everything I said!"

"Let me have my coffee first. How about the two of you write to each other?" he suggests, putting the rim of the cup to his lips and sipping languidly.

"Eh, fine." Satoru pouts, and stalks off into his bedroom to get his phone.

Then, when he's in his bedroom, his chest flutters for some reason when he sees your suitcase standing there opened and emptied into the free cupboard space. He takes his phone, smiles at the homely feeling of seeing your belongings in his room, and leaves.

"Oh..." he has a sudden idea, and remembers the magnetic drawing board that's hanging in the kitchen. He and Suguru usually use it for writing reminders to each other, like get milk or you're an idiot or sometimes it has doodles of Mint the cat with sunglasses on.

So he returns to you with this magnetic drawing board, and points at it meaningfully, then holds one finger up and bows his head as he begins writing very slowly.

Suguru's checking the weather forecast and muttering sour complaints under his breath to you. "Of course it would rain for three days just when you arrive... at least by the weekend it will be clear and sunny..."

"Mmm... it's alright. A little rain never hurt nobody." you respond.

"I like your optimism." Suguru compliments flippantly at first, but then continues; "It's really uplifting. I think Satoru said something about you being a joy once, he said it really poetically but I can't recall it now."

"Aw..." you dip your head beneath your coffee cup, hiding the bashful expression on your face, which Suguru chuckles at.

And then, for a long moment, you just stare and watch Satoru writing on the board. You're completely captured in this moment, completely captivated in his enveloping presence as he sits next to you. He has slow, meticulous wrist movements. His knees press together, like he's worried that he'll invade your personal space if he sits too comfortably close to you. Funny, considering he cuddled you all night and you had no complaints about it.

He's writing very simply and neatly, just like how he texts you. You're a bit baffled by the characters he's using, though he's trying his best to avoid using any kanji knowing that you don't know a lot of it. He's sure you can figure things out by slowly pronouncing each hiragana character, or at least he hopes.

"Here." he hands you the magnetic drawing board, and then raises from the couch to go feed the cat.

"Minto-Minto... " he calls after the cat and makes a small cute sound to lure her out.

You're trying to read each hiragana character, eyes squinting a bit.

Suguru leans in close to you. He just takes a look, but the proximity for some reason gives both of you butterflies.

"Ooh... that's cute." Suguru comments after reading what Satoru wrote. His voice reaches deep in your tummy.

"Hm... I'll spell it out and... figure it out... anyways, why did you name your cat Mint?"

"Oh... well. There's two reasons. So the first..." he sets down his coffee, like he's about to tell you a great story, "Is because Satoru watched this show called Tokyo Mew Mew growing up, and he liked the character Minto. So he calls her Minto. And then I agreed on calling her that, but I call her Mint, because I hate mint the herb."

"You — haha, wait what? You call her Mint because you hate mint?"

"Yes. I hate mint, both the herb and the cat. She hates me too, clearly." Suguru raises his hand to remind you of how the cat scratched him the night before.

"Such a cute Hello Kitty sticker..." you tease.

"Thank you. Only the manliest men wear Hello Kitty Bandaids."

"How did she scratch you anyways...?"

"Oh, she likes to hang out in the washing machine if Satoru accidentally leaves it open. And when I try take her out of her comfy spot, she scratches me."

You sympathize, "Poor thing."

"What, the cat or me?" Suguru laughs.

"The cat." you lie teasingly.

"Wow! And here I thought you were being sympathetic!" he raises his brows.

You giggle and look at him, eyes finally making contact — ooh no that's bad bad bad, better break it immediately. So the two of you look away like you've both just indulged in a taboo intimacy. His stomach flips.

"Minto has been fed. She gave me cuddles." Satoru comes back into the room, and you admire the feeling he brings with him.

"No scratches?" Suguru asks.

"No, obviously, she loves me more than you." Satoru cheeks.

"Fuck you, haha."

Satoru makes his voice lower and leans to Suguru, "(Did she figure out what I wrote yet?)"

"Y/n did you figure out what he wrote?" Suguru asks.

"I'm trying so hard. What does this part mean...?"

Suguru shakes his head and puts his hands up. "Like I said, I'm not Mr Translator in the mornings."

"But you've had your coffee! Please, just this part..." you beg, and he can't deny that sweet begging. He easily folds for it, just like when Satoru begs for anything.

"Okay, where — this? Uh... Satoru your handwriting isn't usually this neat, is it...? That part means... 'voice'."

"Oh... ohhh!" you suddenly realize, and then the boys swoon over you when you pronounce the characters out loud to yourself.

"Uh... I think I know what it means..." you feel your cheeks warm up from the crown to your jawline.

あなたのこえがすき。 a-na-ta-no-ko-e-ga-su-ki.

"I like your voice, too." you respond to Satoru, and he half-gets it and gives you a thumbs up.

"Thanks."

You look at each other and then promptly look away with shy smiles.

"You two are cute." Suguru comments.

"Ahah... ahah shut up... hey, the sky has cleared up." you point out.

"Ooh... it cleared up 'cuz Satoru walked back into the room."

You awe at what he said.

"?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, Translator — (stop talking about me behind my back!)"

Suguru chuckles, "I wasn't! I was just — never mind. Let's get ready to head out."

And so you head into Satoru's bedroom to get ready, and Suguru heads into his bedroom, and Satoru himself goes into the cramped bathroom. Poor boy. He's really too tall for that archway, he bumped his head again.

彼女に花を買ってあげるべきでしょうか？それともちょっと多すぎますか？ Should I buy her flowers? Or is it a bit too much?

（なんてことだ）、なぜこのシャツには穴が開いているのでしょう？ (Oh my god), why does this shirt have holes?

The door slides open, he steps out of the bathroom half-dressed, and intends to quickly slip into Suguru's bedroom to borrow a shirt instead of awkwardly knocking on his bedroom door and disturbing you.

But oh, you know what? The cheesiest possible thing happens instead. The universe likes making Satoru's life a little more fun in odd times. So the two of you encounter each other in the hallway; you're fully clothed and he's got just pants and socks on.

He stutters once, swallows awkwardly, and even more awkwardly places his hand on your head as if to say sorry for this inconvenience.

But you laugh in response to the funny situation.

ああ、またあの美しい笑い声。 Ah, that beautiful laugh again.

"Sorry." he mutters, and disappears to go get a shirt from Suguru.

"It's okay." you reply.

The image of your pretty smile is burned in his head.

You can hear him telling Suguru something in the other room, and then you hear Suguru's muffled laugh as a response.

"(Don't laugh! I'm embarrassed! She's seen me shirtless now! No one's seen me shirtless except you!)"

"(You're such a virgin.)"

"(Say that again, I dare you.)"

"(Sorry, I don't understand you. I don't speak virgin, only English and Japanese.)"

You're wondering why Satoru sounds so embarrassed and annoyed, and then he groans down the hallway. It feels like you're their roommate, it's funny.

"Hi."

"Hi."

The two of you encounter each other in the hall again. This time he has a shirt, yes. And this time Suguru is there, too, and he's holding back an amused smile. He fluffs Satoru's hair as a way of embarrassing him more.

So Satoru leaves, and he leaves in such a way that it's super comedic, making you and Suguru laugh. Ooh, what a laugh that boy has; his Addam's apple shifts up and down deliciously.

"Ah... Suguru? I need help with the washing machine..."

"Yes...?"

"...this kid on the plane who sat next to me, he spilled strawberry juice all over my shirt and now it's sticky."

"But at least it smells like strawberries, right?" he jokes. "You can put it in the washing machine, I'll be doing the laundry in a second anyways..." there is a small moment of eye contact shared, then Suguru looks down, and frowns at something he sees, "(SATORU YOU LEFT YOUR SOCK ON THE FLOOR AGAIN!)"

"(Haha, sorry.)" you hear Satoru half-heartedly apologize from the other room.

So Suguru picks up the sock like an annoyed mother and goes to lecture Satoru.

"(You're embarrassing me in front of our guest. For the love of god, don't leave your goofy ass socks on the floor. What if she slips on them?)"

"(You're such a mother, Suguru.)"

You're calmly and casually going to put your juice-stained shirt in the washing machine like Suguru said, but then...

(the boys are talking and there's just this hilariously dramatic scream from the laundry room)

"DID THE CAT SCRATCH YOU?"

"(Did the cat scratch her?)"

"Ow, y-yeah!" you whine.

Suguru's the first one at the crime scene, and he picks up the cat and proceeds to lecture the cat as if it understands Japanese. It licks its lips and nubby nose and has an evil stare. You giggle.

"I'm so sorry... come, uh — (Suguru, we still have Hello Kitty adhesives somewhere, right?)" Satoru instinctually holds your hand that got scratched.

And he holds it so tenderly and caringly that it makes your whole chest quake for him.

彼女の手の傷はとても小さなものですが、それでも私は心臓がチクチクするのを感じました。 Although the wound on her hand was very small, I still felt my heart tingle.

He leads you to his bedroom, picking up some adhesives and antiseptic on the way, and sits with you on the unmade beds. You watch his fingers nimbly peeling the plastic off the adhesive, admiring how swiftly and perfectly he does even the littlest things. He has such a great attention to detail, it makes you self-conscious; is he thinking of you with the same attention to detail as everything else? Yes... he is.

He dabs some antiseptic on your small scratch, and then gently wraps and pats the Hello Kitty adhesive around it. You're pretty sure he's the one who bought them. Oh, if only you could ask him, but where even is your phone? Lost in a void somewhere, probably.

"Thank you, Satoru."

His eyes light up. His heart thumps. Why did those small, simple words have such a great effect on him?

"Mhm." he hums in acknowledgement. "You're welcome."

あなたの傷がもっと良くなるようにキスしたいです。 I want to kiss your wounds to make them better.

A second after thinking this and looking at your hand, he brings it to his lips and presses a very delicate kiss to the edge of your wrist, where the small cut spanned up to the base of your palm. Can you even call it a kiss? It's more like his lips graze your skin, hovering timidly.

And for some reason... the atmosphere becomes very intimate. Is it because of the place where he kissed you? The inner wrist has never occurred to you to be an intimate spot, and yet you're feeling as if he just kissed you on the lips.

You hear him audibly swallow, like he's conscious of this, too. The both of you become very aware of the tension in the atmosphere.

And then he looks apologetic, as if he overstepped a boundary. So you mutter a small, whispery "thanks..." which lifts his heart up into his throat and reassures him that you don't mind the intimacy.

"Mmm..." he blinks at you, pursing his lips.

His eyes linger on your lips for a moment, and it feels like he's about to... well you know his body just wants to... he sort of...

"Hey, how's the wounded patient?" Suguru interrupts, and you and Satoru spring apart like you're elastic bands that just got released after being stretched.

"Ahah, I'm okay. It's not a bad scratch." you lift your hand, "I'll cherish this Hello Kitty Bandaid forever, thank you."

"Yeah, Satoru bought 'em so you can thank him."

"I knewww he bought them, haha! So expected... cutiepie." you admire Satoru, and he's pretty sure that the last thing you said is some cute nickname, so he smirks.

"Okay, well... anyways, let's head out before the sun rises too high and it gets too hot to walk."

© arminsumi

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