#gojo married smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elaofarc · 5 months ago

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I'D LIKE TO MEAN IT WHEN I SAY I'M OVER YOU | 𝑔. 𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑢

๋࣭ ⭑⚝⭒— 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦. 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘤��𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵, 𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘦.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝⭒ 𝑎/𝑛 planned this to be something soft and sweet and short. turned out to be a cheesy, slightly angsty one but then kind of hot and messy. and long, ofc. i'm exhausted so please excuse any mistakes. rbs and comments are appreciated!

childhood friends & marriage of convenience + hurt/comfort(maybe?idk) + desperate satoru + mentions of fucked up family relationships + dare i say childhood friends to somewhat strangers-but-not-exactly-strangers to lovers + car sēx + f!orgasm + breedīng + pūssy slāpping + unprotected sēx + overstim

The reason for your distress is either the unbearable heat of summer or the young man sprawled on the armchair in your living room with his legs stretched out on the coffee table—you are not sure which. The only thing you are sure of is that you feel unbearably suffocated. It is as if a pair of hands is greedily squeezing your throat more and more, their fingers burning your delicate skin, pressing on your throat until they steal your last breath. You want to close and open your eyes and wake up, but this is not a dream; it never was a dream. Your life has never been like a dream, even though it might seem that way to outsiders. The most vivid proof of this is the man in your living room, watching you with his chin resting on his hand. Despite the sunset and the orange and pink hues of the sky overshadowing him, his bright blue eyes never lose their brightness as they fix on you; you are not sure if you are restless or upset. You are not even sure which book you are holding in this moment; the only thing you know is that you are drowning in a sea of thoughts that drive you into almost madness.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, his gaze so intense that it makes you want to run and hide. Of course, that's not the main reason; you can easily see the mocking look in his eyes. The corners of his lips curl up in an almost arrogant smirk, as if he is watching a movie he has seen countless times. He has an indifferent yet knowing attitude, which makes you squirm uncomfortably in your seat for some reason. You are torn between throwing the book in your hand at his head and quietly leaving the room, but you know that neither is a suitable solution for the problem at hand.

“Like what?” he responds, the faint pink and orange hues of the sky reflecting off his white hair, making his pale skin seem to glow slightly. Dressed in all black, he is still the brightest thing in your living room; Gojo Satoru. You are not sure how his presence makes you feel; he is real enough to slap you with how pathetic you are and arrogant enough to mock the situation you have fallen into.

“Like that,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “You know how you're looking. Stop looking at me like that.” You hurriedly avert your eyes from him and turn your gaze to the book, deciding it’s a good idea to sit as far away from him as possible. Perched on the other end of the large and comfortable couch, with your legs pulled up to your chest, you feel your hair sticking to your neck and forehead with sweat, even though the weather isn’t that hot.

“You’re holding the book upside down,” Gojo finally says. “I didn’t know you could read an upside-down book, you must be quite the bookworm.”

The room temperature suddenly rises, or maybe your face starts burning—you feel tears welling up from embarrassment and sink further into the couch. Without turning the upside-down book, which would only embarrass you more, you barely manage to direct your gaze at him. There are those intense eyes that overwhelm you again, mocking and arrogant and perhaps a bit haughty but definitely over-confident… causing your stomach to churn and your head to spin. You close the book and slowly place it on the coffee table—responding to him would only entertain him more, but you can't help yourself, and with a furrowed brow, you part your lips.

“There are many things you don’t know about me,” you respond to him annoyingly. “So maybe it’s best if you don’t comment. What do you think?”

Knowing this is just one of his games, that he enjoys making you angry, and that your expressions entertain him, you get mad at yourself for not being able to stay silent—but it’s clear that Satoru has this effect on you. If you are Pandora’s box, he is the only one who thinks opening you is fun. Everything about you fascinates him more than he understands; when he’s with you, he acts on impulse rather than calculated responses and behaviors.

“That’s why I’m here,” he says, stretching where he sits and running his fingers through his hair. His shirt rides up a bit, and you immediately look away to another part of your house as if he isn't there. “To get to know my fiancée better, right? You know, nobody stays a child. I’m sure you’ve changed a lot after all these years.”

“Of course,” you say with a clearly insincere smile. “You can be sure that the only thing that’s changed about me is not being an asshole like you, Satoru.”

“Thank you,” Satoru replies; his voice this time is low and husky, as if he stumbles over a few words and manages to say only these. “As kind as always.”

“I don’t like you,” you say in one breath. The house is quiet, so quiet that you can easily hear each other's breathing. Neither you nor Satoru comments for a while after your words; you sit in a pitiful silence for a while. You can’t help but think how bearable he is when he keeps his mouth shut.

“Is that why the necklace is still around your neck?” Satoru asks, but this time without a mocking tone; instead, he seems to need a few words to fall from your lips.

“Yours is still around your neck too,” you quickly, almost panicked, reply.

“I never told you I didn’t like you,” Satoru says calmly. His calmness makes you feel more restless and suffocated; how can he be so calm? Why is he so calm? Just like you have no say over your own life, you have no say here either; you are getting married because of decisions made without considering your feelings and private lives. You knew it would happen sooner or later, but you always wanted to believe in that rebellious part of you that refused to accept it—but now the ring shining on your finger, your childhood friend sprawled in your living room, and the necklaces hidden under your shirts around your necks drag you into a whirlpool of complicated emotions. “I never said such a thing to you.”

You open your lips to respond, to say something, but you have no idea what to say—you have dozens of questions you want to ask, dozens of questions you need answers to… yet you betray yourself and swallow all the words, biting your tongue and staying silent.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Satoru asks this time. You feel like you’re about to cry; not because you hate him, no, definitely not. You don’t hate him, you never hated him… you just envy and resent him for being able to adapt to your parents’ lives built on money and business so easily. It should be easy for you too; it’s unfair, you should also be able to stand up to your family with a careless attitude. But you were always the girl who voiced injustice, who became aggressive like an unclaimed dog when it was necessary to protect her boundaries; the first person to make you feel a sense of belonging now sits before you, and in your eyes, he is no different from the family that never taught you what belonging means.

“Like what?”

“Like that,” Satoru pauses a bit. “Like you’re about to cry. Do you hate me that much?”

“It’s not about you,” you reply with a mocking laugh. “Why do you think everything revolves around you?”

“Am I wrong to think it has something to do with me? You’re going to marry me,” Satoru says, lowering his legs from the table and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching you carefully. His eyes roaming over you make you feel caged; does he look at you so carefully because he has forgotten everything about you?

“I can’t believe you’re staying silent about this,” you finally say, standing up and looking at Satoru with wide eyes. You can’t help but feel betrayed; why didn’t he speak up? Why did he agree to everything that was told to you? Is he that cowardly? That despicable? Is he…is he like them? You realize at that moment, standing against Satoru, what really scares you. That he is like them. The possibility that he has become as despicable an adult as your parents, who would do anything to gain a little more profit, a little more money, to control the media, terrifies you to death.

“Come on,” Satoru says, leaning back in the armchair, folding his hands in his lap, and tilting his head back, watching you carefully. “Did you ever believe you’d marry for love? Really?”

Feeling the warm sunset sunlight, you feel completely detached from the situation. Since the moment you met him, he's integrated into your life as if he is an essential piece for your being. No matter how many times you try to escape him, you always find yourself returning for some sense of comfort. "I mean, yeah," you say, feeling both disappointed and surprised by how easily he accepts everything. It is almost paralyzing; he believes you never wanted to marry for love, thinking you two are destined to be mere pawns for your parents' companies, soon to be merged. "And you didn't? I mean, you really haven't thought like that?"

"Love?" Satoru echoes, reverting to that annoying-asshole version of himself. "You think I ever believed I would marry for love? Please." His tone hints at something else, something familiar yet elusive. "Love is a made-up concept, and you should know that too. Life isn't like your little books, you know."

It feels like glass shattering in your ears—almost deafening as you stand before him, disappointment evident in your eyes. Is that it? Is that all he has to say for himself or this entire situation? With red cheeks and glossy eyes, you straighten your posture. Feeling threatened, you stand upright, shoulders tensing even though you want to curl into a ball and disappear.

"I say you're as materialistic and soulless as our parents. This career, wealth, and company success have colored you blind," you say, sitting back on the couch, as far from him as possible. Everything you believed crumbles before you, slipping through your fingers—you feel too tired, too consumed to hold onto them. "And it upsets me because I thought you were different. I truly believed we could break this cycle."

"What cycle, for God's sake?" His voice is not low this time; it sounds like he is on the brink of madness. What other choice does he have, really? After spending nearly ten years with you, holding your hand while sleeping, going to school with you, loving you so desperately that he stood up to his parents countless times—how can he not accept this? Isn't this his only chance to be with you, even though you are clearly upset? Satoru cannot find the strength to explain what he has been going through all these years, he does not have the heart to—but he wishes he could. If only he could, you would understand him. You truly would. But he fears your reaction, especially now that you are being forced to marry him. If he had acted on his feelings earlier, if he had opened up to you sooner, maybe this would be a marriage for love. But he is too late, and he knows it all too well. Despite his nonchalant and carefree facade, everything stops for Satoru when it concerns you.

Your words hit him like a ton of bricks, pinning him down where he stands. Satoru feels his head spinning. It is clear you are awaiting a response, holding onto the smallest hope you have left about him—but he just doesn't know any better.

"Okay, you may be right. But I still have more personality than those old geezers," he says, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly, almost forming a twisted smirk. Your eyebrows furrow, pupils dilate, and eyes widen, lips parted in utter disappointment beyond the point of return. "Don't be a dick, Satoru," your voice drips with disappointment as you speak. You shake your head and reach for your book, feeling lost about what you should do—or can do—in this situation. Opening your book to signal that you want to end the conversation, you hope to cut off any form of communication with him, though you know it is impossible. "At least I can blame them for not having a personality, but you go on boasting about yourself and still end up as soulless as them. I think that says something about you."

As you flip open your book, Satoru lets the room fall silent. He lets you read, pretending he isn't planning to restart the conversation after giving you a little break. After only a few moments, he speaks again.

"You're pretty sassy today, huh?" he muses, watching you read. "Did I ruin your day of self-care? I'm sorry. Maybe I should make it up to you—like you said, we have the whole rest of our lives together, hmm?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up," you say, clearly annoyed but aware that you're doing what he loves: talking back, giving him the attention he craves from you. You reopen your book, trying to read, but thoughts about the marriage consume you, keeping you awake at night as you toss and turn in bed. You can't believe you'll be sharing a house with him in a week. Maybe you can suggest living separately; you wonder what his reaction would be.

Unable to focus, you put your book down and get up, walking to the kitchen. After a minute or two, you return with another cup in your hand and hand it to Satoru without looking at him. "This will keep your mouth shut. Drink, and don't talk."

After actually doing as you say and taking the coffee mug from your hand, Satoru manages to keep silent, while you sink into the corner of the couch, lifelessly staring at your book. There are so many things you want to tell and ask him, but it feels like everything would fall apart, so you absentmindedly look at the first page of the book—not a single word sticks in your mind, you just try to cope with the horror of realizing how wrong you were about him all this time. But you are not going to be the winning side; knowing you never will be, you don’t want to fight against anything anymore. Maybe staying silent and accepting is the right thing to do; after all, Satoru is your childhood friend, you could have been forced to marry someone else, right? That would be worse, but this doesn’t feel like the best option either. Several times you open your lips as if to say something, but no words come out, and you sit there on the couch with an expression Satoru can’t name; your back against the corner of the couch, knees pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around your knees, watching him carefully. You have no idea when or where you put down the book. You can’t take your eyes off the chain of the necklace around his neck, why is he still wearing it? Why are you still wearing it?

“You’re lying,” you finally say, and at that moment, Satoru involuntarily straightens up in his seat and coughs nervously.

“What?”

“You’re lying, Satoru. I’m not stupid, I know you’re lying.”

“About what?” he says, with no trace of the indifference that has become the most important part of his personality; his bright blue eyes are a bit darker, his lips slightly parted, and his full attention is on you.

“You believe in love,” you say slowly and quietly, and Satoru realizes that your gaze makes him feel even weaker. “If you didn’t believe…”

Your fingers find the necklace hidden under your shirt, playing with the flower petal pendant, while your eyes are fixed on the necklace you know is hidden under Satoru’s shirt. After a few minutes of silence, your fingers grasp the necklace a bit more firmly, and just then, Satoru quickly gets up from his seat, kneels beside your couch, and gently removes your hand from the necklace.

“Don’t.”

“If you didn’t believe, you’d stay silent,” you say, your voice now completely a whisper, and you realize this feels safer. You remember the times you always whispered out of fear as a child; how some things stay the same regardless of age. Your hand slowly moves toward the side of Satoru’s neck, and when your fingertips touch his skin, both of you shudder as if struck by electricity. Your fingers slowly slide down his skin, finally reaching the necklace and pulling it out from under his shirt; it’s still as bright as the first day, making you want to cry. You slowly tug on the necklace, knowing it could break at any moment; Satoru, worried, takes your hand in his large hands again and gently moves it away from the necklace.

“Please,” he murmurs. “Don’t.”

“You’re a liar,” you say, but your voice lacks an accusatory tone; instead, there’s a sense of relief from finally discovering the feelings Satoru couldn’t name. “Gojo Satoru, you’re a terrible liar. And also a coward.”

His soft lips touch the knuckles of your hand, placing feather-light kisses on the back of your hand—as if he needs this to reveal everything he’s tried to hide from you, to feel you.

“You could have been honest with me,” you whisper, gently playing with Satoru’s hair with your other hand, while he continues to kiss your hand and wrist. He stays silent, kneeling there, and you remember his childhood self; how he always sought refuge with you despite being older. The times he knelt in front of you like this, resting his head in your lap, desperately seeking your warmth. “You could have been brave,” you gently tug on his hair to lift his head, making him look at you. “You should have known that I would support you. I would always, against everyone, support you.”

“It’s not that easy,” Satoru says, his lips still placing kisses along your wrist and even up your arm, and you realize both of you are breathless. Your eyes watch him carefully; you can see how Satoru seems torn between needing to touch you and being gentle enough not to scare you away. His butterfly kisses trail along your arm, and your body feels like it melts into the large, comfortable couch—as if it’s fused with it. At some point, he’s leaned slightly over you, one of his large hands gently caressing the exposed side of your waist where your thin shirt rides up.

“What’s not easy?” you ask.

“Seeing your reaction,” Satoru murmurs against your arm. “You’ve always opposed everything just for the sake of opposing. If I had opened up to you… if I had told you about my feelings, I couldn’t have married you.”

“Fool,” you say, making him lift his head and look at you as you offer a barely-there smile. “You couldn’t have known without saying it.”

So that's how even before your marriage, you've proven him that love exists—and it's not only present in your silly little books.

Perhaps if it were truly a marriage of convenience, there could have been an insurmountable barrier between you—a situation where you'd sleep in separate rooms, living like strangers under one roof. Perhaps the only thing that would bind you together would be the comfort of being childhood friends, who knows…

But now, as Satoru's large, warm hands roam over your skin left bare by the deep back neckline of the outfit you wore to the opening ceremony that you didn't even know it's purpose, you realize that this was never possible from the start. Satoru worships you; what you're wearing, whether you've put on makeup or not, or anything else doesn't matter. Somehow touching you, feeling the softness and warmth of your skin against his palms brings Satoru peace.

The flashes of cameras continue behind you as Satoru places one hand on your bare back, accompanying you, and leaning in to whisper something absurd yet amusing about how all these paparazzi are already the lapdogs of your combined family businesses; you straighten his slightly askew tie as you listen to him. If there were an award for the youngest couple at the event, it would likely have been presented to you, so slipping away from the scene quickly wouldn't seem strange to anyone.

"We shouldn't have left so early," you say, but Satoru, as if not hearing you at all, takes your hand and guides you towards the car. His steps are firm and hurried, and he can feel his hands tingling and his heart pounding in his chest like a determined sparrow wanting to escape.

"As if it's so important," says Satoru as he opens the car door, almost throwing your body into the car. Although you appear calm and indifferent, his urgent and eager attitude further indulges you; as you fasten your seatbelt, Satoru presses the gas pedal with all his might, and the car leaves the parking lot with a deafening roar. You're not sure where you're going, the only thing you know is that one of your spouse's big hands is exploring your legs as if they've never had this chance before.

"Satoru, are you hearing me? I'm talking to you.'"

"Believe me," he says, taking off his tie with one hand while the other is on the steering wheel, throwing it onto the back seat. "The only thing I can think of right now is getting rid of these excesses."

That's how after minutes, he has your trembling legs spread apart and thrown over his broad shoulders on the backseat of the car—your silk dress pushed up and, curled around your waist as his tongue desperately lap against your pussy; he's way too impatient to get rid of your clothing, your panties are pushed to the side as he experimentally pushes a finger inside your cunt. "Fuck—Satoru," you whine, body jolting forward as your hips buck against his mouth even more. Satoru hums, clearly enjoying the way you grind against him as he eats you out on the backseat.

"Couldn't think of anything else all night," he murmurs, completely drunk on your pussy—your juices drip down from his chin to his expensive shirt, lips glistening as he hooks his hands around your inner thighs and pulls you even closer to his mouth; the bridge of his nose rubbing against your sensitive clit as he runs his tongue along your folds over and over again, driving you to the brink of madness. "So fucking gorgeous, my pretty girl."

You cry out, his husky voice shakes you to your core as you press your legs together—caging his head in between your trembling thighs. You have no idea if hours or minutes passed—all you know is that he'll try to rip one after another from you. You tug on his hair desperately, whimpers and moans fill the car as Satoru lets out a guttural sound; making you grind against his mouth more and more desperately. When he pulls back breathlessly, you see how wet and messy he is—it's embarassing, but he look so good. “You’re making it hard for me to hold back, pretty girl...” He lowly murmurs, sucking a hickey onto that sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

A soft yet loud yelp falls from your parted lips, hands quickly and weakly try to push Satoru's head away—yet, he does not yield. "Shh, it's okay baby," he cooes, as if making fun of how messy and needy you are underneath him. "Just gotta taste you on my tongue, don't be impatient now."

"Fuck you," you breathlessly reply back. "You're the impatient one here."

Instead of replying, you hear Satoru spitting on your pussy as if you're not wet enough already—and before wasting any second, he lands a slap. Not too rough, but it's enough to rip the sweetest moan from you. As he pushed two fingers into your clenching walls, both of you groan—the feeling of being wrapped so tightly gets Satoru dizzy. As his fingers plunge in and out of your cunt, his other hand lands another slap. It makes you sob this time, body jerking and squirming under his steel-like hold as his fingers lazily fuck your pussy.

"Satoru—," you whine, hips moving in circles, grinding against his hand as you cry and moan from the intense feeling. "Don't—"

"What? Can't handle that? This sweet pussy of yours, too sensitive to be used like this? Huh? Answer me, baby."

You want to say something, anything, to match his cockiness—yet the way his thick fingers are able to reach places that you can't is enough to make your head spin. He adds the third finger before landing another smack on your pussy, his hardened cock twitching painfully in his pants as he absentmindedly grinds against the backseat; it doesn't take him long to rip the first orgasm of the night from you, your back arches off from the backseat as your nails dig into his hair—his deep groans become faint noises in the background as his fingers keep fucking you through your orgasm—without giving you a break, he makes out with your pussy, getting lost and high on your taste.

"Fuck, fuck—fuck, Satoru, stop, give me a min—," your pleas fall on deaf ears as he makes you lay on your back completely, one knee resting on the backseat as he swiftly undoes his belt; pushing his briefs and pants down before he gives a few strokes to his painfully hard cock. Your eyes hang heavily on the sight before you, pre-cum oozing from the tip as he lets it drip in your pussy, it makes both of you moan—the windows getting steamy, the car shaking with how much you're shuffling inside.

"Too sensitive," you whine, wet eyelashes feel heavy with mascara as the blackness of it stains your red cheeks—Satoru adores this sight of you; all ruined and pliant for him, ready for him to fuck you again and again until your walls greedily clench around his cock. "Hmm?" Satoru hums, probably unaware of what you're saying, so focused on your glistening fold that he can't help but push the tip of his cock, sliding up and down painfully slowly as your body tries to escape underneath his strong body.

His hand comes up to your mouth, thumb forcing your lips open as he presses on your tongue—almost making you gag, he loves watching the way your eyes get glossier and your mouth hangs open, saliva dripping down to your chin. "Spit," he orders, his voice low and deep as he watches you with his full attention, his gaze follows the way you immediately spit in his hand. Satoru doesn't waste too much time, using your spit as a lube—as if he needs it, you're dripping wet all over the backseat—, his now wet hand giving his cock a few pumps before he slowly presses the tip of his cock to your entrance.

A low and deep moan coming from you fills the car, your back arching and your eyes rolling back—you need to escape from his hold, yet you realize that even though he's ripped an intense orgasm from you and you're still sensitive, your walls clench around nothing, begging to wrap around your husband's dick. "Shit—hey, hey, babe, calm down a bit—fuck," he breathlessly whispers, pulling back to playfully slap your pussy, his eyes burning with desire and desperation. At this point, you're unable to utter a word; all you can do is to look at Satoru through your heavy eyelashes with your glassy eyes as he finally sinks deep—the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix as he stays still for a moment.

"Shit, you're gonna make me cum," his voice feels like it's coming from afar—a distant groan as you feel him moving. Filling you up, making you shake and cry and push yourself down on him as your hands helplessly hold onto Satoru's thick biceps. Once he starts thrusting into your weeping cunt, you're a mess; Satoru has to push a finger inside your mouth to get your voice a little bit lower. Don't get him wrong, he loves hearing your voice—but he loves being the only one who hears your voice. You suck on his finger as he mercilessly pounds into you, hips rutting against you as if he's been holding it back for so long—it has been a few hours since the night has started, actually. "Such a greedy pussy," he murmurs, those blue eyes resting heavily on you as he fucks you with an almost brutal pace. "Sucking me in—fuck, you're gonna make me cum."

Something between 'please' and 'yeah' falls from your lips as Satoru's thumb presses against your tongue—he leans down, and you're ready to kiss him, but all he does is to spit in your mouth before he smears it with his thumb. God, he's filthy—he loves watching you messily lay underneath him, all wet and stuffed.

"Satoru," you whine, your whimper slowly dying down as your nails dig into his thick biceps. "Gonna cum again, hah—fuck," your desperate voice combined with your pussy all slick and greedy for him does it for Satoru, really. He leans down after pulling his hand back from your mouth, his wet thumb drawing circles on your abused clit as he mindlessly fucks your sensitive cunt. "Yeah?" He says in one breath, feeling his cock twitch while being wrapped by your warm and velvety walls. "Give me one more, sweet girl—go on, you can do that."

You can't even hear him when you cum all around his cock, your second orgasm leaving you out of breath and jelly as Satoru's big hands grab you by your sides—moving your spent body in sync with his thrusts. "That's it, that's it, pretty," he says even though you just can't comprehend what he's saying, all your senses are clouded as his thrusts become sloppy��deep and slow, hitting your sweet spot, making you cry and tremble in his big hands. You try to push him back mindlessly, the feeling of his thick cock brushing against your walls, the tip brushing against your cervix—getting ready to pump you full of his cum.

"Satoru, wait, I can't take it—," he is quick to shush you, face immediately buried in your chest as his tongue swirls around your sensitive nipples, teeth teasingly catching the perked up nub.

"Shh, you can, love, you can—just let me, fuck, let me fill you up, yeah? Gonna cum in this pretty pussy, fill you up as you deserve," your desperate cries push him over the edge as he speaks, his body jerks forward, hips pressed against you as he just slowly rocks, hot and thick stripes of his seeds filling your abused cunt as he handles your body as if you're just a doll; making you grind on him by holding your waist, not letting a drip of his cum go to waste. He pulls back only when he catches his breath, two fingers gathering the cum dripping from your cunt and pushing it back again, fucking that back into you even though you're just sobbing, overly sensitive as your husband's thick fingers do the job just right. "You're gonna keep it for me, huh? Such a good girl you are, maybe I should cum inside you until we're sure that you're filled to the brim—until all you can think of is me breeding you, over and over and over again." You can't even protest at this point, already too dumb on Satoru's cock, still feeling full and stuffed even though he's just using two fingers.

None of you talk as you two try to somewhat regain your consciousness; all Satoru does is bring those two fingers up to your lips, soaked with his cum mixed with yours. You clean his fingers, and he helps you, too! Kissing you, licking into your mouth as your tongue laps against the pads of his fingers, tasting yourself mixed with him—practically, he does the same.

"I'll take a hot bath once we get home," you breathlessly murmur as Satoru fixes your dress, knowing his cum dripping down from you as he pulls your panties up gets him all hard and twitching again, yet he has to keep it cool until you two get home. "You're not allowed anywhere near me tonight."

All Satoru does in return is to give you a slight smirk; a knowing look, too—because he'll be even more insufferable once you two get home.

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greycaelum · 2 years ago

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Scribbles & Doodles— Mafia Gojo: { Summer Heat }

—Mafia Gojo Satoru X Wife Reader

𑁍 Synopsis: Spending the scorching summer with your husband on your private island leads to igniting other embers in your marriage

𑁍 Genre: NSFW: explicit smut, traditional arrange marriage, hints of yandere if you squint

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (3.7k)— tattoos, teasing, breeding kink, impregnation, pregnancy talks, oral sex, unprotected sex, open space sex(—no one in the vicinity), nipple play, biting, praise kink, cockwarming, dirty talk, creampie, cervix fucking, overstimulation, profanity, soft dom satoru, cunnilingus, yakuza/mafia hints if you squint, toxic in-laws, mention of an accident [tell me if i missed something]

𑁍 A/N: Hi everyone~ a lot has been going on but finally I manage to finish the piece I'm working on, here it is. My mind is going brrrr about mafia stuff so I hope you like this one! Sending y'all very tight hug! —Grey,

Growing up, the idea of summer in your mind glows with the open sea with tropical trees lending you shade while sitting in your sun lounger, watching the waves ebb the white sand.

Going home to Amami Oshima every summer is a tradition you have religiously followed before your college years. And now that you're back, you find yourself in the same place you have grown up loving the heat of the sun.

"Too hot don't you think so too Ma'am? It's a shame for your pretty skin. My hands are free to help." A mischievous tone swirl in Satoru's voice. Wearing nothing to cover his sculpted-inked torso, ripped in well-toned muscles traced by his tattoos and few scars, his black swimming trunks hug his Adonis belt almost like a sin. The bulging veins on his biceps leave you tremendously distracted and bothered. He walked barefooted in the sand with hands on the sides of his pocket shamelessly eyeing you.

You resisted the idea of pouncing on the gorgeous man, admiring his menacing tattoos that made your toes curl. The way it hugs his chest like a coat, crawling to his forearms and painting down his back makes you breathless of how much beautiful he could get.

"My husband already promised to put sunscreen on me, I wonder if he forgot." You giggled, looking at him with siren eyes.

Satoru merely smirks, climbing on top of you with his hands on either side of your head, blocking any path for you to escape.

"Fuck Baby, lucky husband you got." His head delved down and you expected a rough kiss from his lips but nothing came, instead, a soft peck landed on the tip of your nose.

You opened your eyes and saw Satoru's grin as if he knew what you were thinking.

"Sit up straight, you're gonna get sunburned." Satoru retracted to sit on the end of your lounger, grabbing the sunscreen on your side table and squirting a good amount of it on his palm.

For a man always wearing a suit when dealing with his business, Satoru is fair toned despite being an albino. Yet that doesn't stop him from being a little too red like an octopus ball during summer, something you've loved watching since childhood, teasing him as much as you could.

Pouting you sit up straight adjusting your bikini before giving your arm to him. There's something about the tattooed man, twice your size and yet buttering you up in sunscreen with full attention that gives you a fuzzy feeling in your tummy.

"My husband would do it rougher and quicker." You bit your lip.

Satoru raised a brow at you but continued doing his job, tapping your knee with the back of his hand, he grabs your ankles to his lap as he lathers you up, not missing a spot.

"Uh-huh? What else would he do?" He rasped.

"He would..." You deliberately drag it longer, watching his brows frowning. "Make me lay on my stomach too."

You tried to fight the smile on your lips as Satoru's face only grew impatient, narrowing his ocean eyes in your direction before pinching your hips, telling you to roll on your tummy.

"Sir, you look like my husband."

And you broke the final straw, a loud spank struck your butt making you yelp. It wasn't that hard but you sure got surprised.

"You really are a minx." Satoru groaned.

"Only for my husband."

"Fuck, I'm your husband. Wife."

You laugh, accepting the heated kiss Satoru punished you until you feel your lips tingle and swollen.

The two of you have been quite busy, barely seeing each other in a day, going as far as seeing each other only at midnight when your husband comes home from work and you're awoken by his shuffling.

It's frustrating how he's your husband but he's the person you get to spend the least amount of time with. And you're sure he feels the same, conveyed by the morning he couldn't bear to let you out of his arms. Hesitant and pouting whenever you walk to the door to leave for work.

So here the both of you are. Leaving busy Tokyo to go home where the two of you spent the blazing heat of summer since childhood. Away from work, away from stress and the constant fear for your husband's safety. It's only on this island that your heart is at peace.

Work is fine, you love your job. But being around too many people drains you. Especially your in-laws and even your father. The idea of having to face them is already strenuous for your mind.

"What's on your mind?" Laying on the lounger with the sun still high atop the sky is so peculiar. But here you are with your body on top of Satoru your fingers tracing his tattooed chest, his legs propped by your sides while raking his hand over your back.

His expression is serious but it softened slightly when he looked at you. The way he looked at you is different from the way he looks at everyone else. Like a cushion to the malevolence, his callous hands could do. A cushion specifically crafted for you. But it's a different matter with the hostility of people around you.

People never failed to keep pointing out if an heir is coming along the way. It's as if not bearing a child after the first few months of getting married is a huge sin for you to be condemned and criticized every time you meet.

And those are getting to you. The anxiousness whenever you try for the test and see it come back negative. The constant worry of your fertility chasing after you. Or will you ever make a good mother?

"Nothing." You close your eyes, flushing out the thoughts.

"Hey, wife. What's wrong? Am I holding you too tight?" Satoru noticed your silence and move over to see the waver of your eyes you're too slow to hide.

Satoru is so soft with you, so tender that it's almost heartbreaking how he holds you so dear without any hesitation. And all you wish is to reciprocate this kind of love to him in the way your body and soul allow.

He once spoke about it, a light talk over your first days of marriage but he never brought it up again. Something you knew, he was being considerate for your part after all the talks from your families every dinner that ends up Satoru being in a foul mood, growing more distant with his family.

And it breaks your heart seeing him fall apart from his parents. It breaks your heart seeing a family drift away. It triggers the fear in your heart after seeing what happened to you parents as well. It scares you seeing that happen to your husband.

You look at him and it seems he always knew what's going on in your mind. A kiss delves on your forehead.

"I want a child 'Toru. I want it so bad."

Not because everyone keeps bothering you. Or you have something to prove to the people talking about you.

But you have always dreamt of a child, a perfect copy of your husband running to clutch your legs to show you the sandcastle Satoru built for fun. A son or a daughter, running through the white sand by the beach sunset.

You want a family with him.

"You wanna be heavy with my child?" A feral glint sparked in your husband's eyes.

Before you could nod Satoru held your face kissing you over and over again, lust-filled eyes staring at you. His strong hand pulled your face closer so that you could feel the air you breathed combining.

"I will put a baby in you," he whispered lifting you in his arms and walking back to your beach house. "Maybe even two." The thought had you hazy and distraught between his words and kisses. "You'd look so good with my kids." Satoru cursed and set you down on the veranda, he pushed your back against the wall, his arms imprisoning you while his hands roam your body. "My wife carrying my child, fuck baby. You're making me crazier for you."

You moaned, trying to keep your eyes closed, saving even a bit of your dignity from doing this in such an open space. But what else is there that Satoru wouldn't notice about you?

His large body drowned you. A ripping sound of fabric tore through the silent beach. Looking down, all you could see is your exposed chest and before you could cover yourself Satoru pinned your arms above your head, attacking your lips into a maddening kiss while his fingers brush your peaks, skin-to-skin, electrifying you to a mess. He softly groped your mounds, kneading and pawing your milky globes with his rough callous palm and your body just respond to his touches before you could allow it.

"T-the people." You half-heartedly struggle, maintaining the last inch of sense in your head.

But Satoru raggedly cursed almost making you faint.

"Bold of you to assume I'll share even a fucking inch of your skin Baby." It's almost a sin how you could forget his possessiveness just because you've been alone for days. "I'll hunt them down one by one."

You can't form an answer and threw your head back when he bent down, inserting your hard peaks into his hot mouth, swirling and suckling you so needily. He could feel the smirk on his lips. Through the slits of your hooded eyes, you could see his glimmering eyes filled with lust. His kiss is so deep that it distracted you from his hands trailing down your thighs. One touch against the thin cloth of your bikini, he chuckled between curses.

"Fuck baby," he whispered, kissing your jaws sporadically. "You're so horny." He brushes your clit through your panties. He rubs it gently with his thumb.

The shame started creeping up on you, you slightly pushed him but it barely had any strength. "Satoru please." You wanted to scold him but it came out as a whine only spurring your husband. The hot blue beach staring at you openly makes your belly tingle, unused to the idea of doing such an intimate act in full view.

But you're sure you want this and you trust Satoru will handle everything to keep your dignity, you arch when he plays with your hair with one hand while he strokes your belly with the other.

A moan escapes you as Satoru starts to kiss your neck, tracing your skin with the tip of his tongue as his hand snaps your bra. You lean your head to the side to give him more access to your neck while he pushes you onto the hard stone wall. You know your arousal is leaving a stain in your panties, and when he starts sucking on your neck your knees threaten to wobble in the sheer pleasure.

Satoru's bulge is hard, brushing against your stomach. His curses thundered when you clung to his neck desperately. Large callous hands caress your body, roaming the fullness of your breast, grabbing the dips of your hips whilst he pushes you against his hard chest kissing you breathlessly.

You're already a mess when he goes down your body.

Satoru kisses your belly, knowing that's where his child will grow inside of you, as he slips his thumbs under the edge of your panties, "Give me permission, wife." He groans, looking into your eyes. When you gasp a faint 'yes' and Satoru pulls off your panties before kissing you in the middle of your thighs. Satoru is careful, testing your mounds open so he could press his tongue in between. Lapping your pussy lips the same way he would make out with you.

The imminent pleasure is jarring as you try to push back the wanton moans from your husband's tongue. As if he heard your suppression of moans, Satoru sunk his tongue deeper inside your walls, feeling your walls pulsate and your breathing more shallow. Your hands tried pushing him away to save face but your body convulsed in the middle of the rapturous sensation.

Satoru wasted no time pulling down his shorts, he pressed a bite on your neck before grabbing your hand to palm his shaft guiding your hand up and down as he groans like a wounded lion, needily gasping at the pleasure your hands stroking his aching member. "I'll get you pregnant," he promised sincerely with passion staring at your blown-out eyes, "Gonna fill you up with my seed until you can't hold it in."

You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slowly entered your core. Feeling the tip pop into your quivering passage. He slid into you with ease, pushing his cock back and forth while he kissed the corner of your lips, feathering more along your jaw as his thrusts got deeper and faster. Your hot walls caressing him so tightly it's so hard for him to hold back.

Crazy. You are driving him crazy. There was an equal amount of gentleness and roughness to his movements that sated the both of you perfectly. His scent, the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his throaty moans. Even his moans are too much, too sexy making you clench around him, whining and begging in between.

While your legs were tangled around his waist, his mouth latched onto your tit when he gave each bosom a lavish suck making your pert rosebuds tingle and hard. Soon enough this will be the most tender globes that'll keep him preoccupied latching on to you. It was until he began increasing the speed of his thrusts that you could no longer contain your wanton cries, "Satoru! Slow d-down ahm!"

"Cum," he whispered in your ear, knowing full well that your orgasm was building back on your lower abdomen, "Cum for me, Baby."

"'Toru!" Breathless and twitching from your release, your nails dug into his back that you're sure was gonna bleed as you gripped around his girth, milking yourself around his cock followed by your helpless cries. Your chest was rising and falling heavily after your climax, but did you think Satoru was done?

He watches your eyes grow droopy from exhaustion, letting you breathe for a second or two before smirking as he pulls your legs to wrap around his waist, sheathing himself back into your soaking core.

"Ahhh! S-Satoru? W-wait!" You cried.

Grunting at the sopping sound of his shaft slamming inside you while you clung to him in your weariness, moaning and crying his name.

"Don't think so Baby, you're so wet." Satoru drawls at you, his voice dark and teasing, hissing when you suddenly clamp around him.

You loved it when Satoru is a bit rough and wild to an extent. It's when his pleasant mask slip and reveals the raw emotion beneath him. When he losses control, desperate for you. Satoru needed you in those moments. And you are more than willing to accept every inch of it.

Pouring his emotions into you, groaning his anger into your ears before biting the hollow of your neck to mark you with his teeth like tattoos adorning your skin. You loved it when your husband vented his frustrations into you. When he finds the invigorating relief in your tight heat. He never forgets to make sure to fuck orgasm after orgasm out of you to hear your cries and feel you cream around his hard cock.

It was so heady that Satoru could only groan out ruthless profanities as he thrust so hard making sure he was so deep into you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Shit Baby!" You clenched around him as he spurted thick jets of cum right into your womb. "Baby... You're too good, fuck!" His breathy grunts were released when his hips fell out of rhythm. Hot dollops of his seed were shot straight into your womb, ensuring that every drop of his cum was sitting deep into your cervix. When he pulled out, you could feel his warm semen seeping out of your entrance because you were clenching naturally, twitching from muscle memory of his cock inside you as you gasped for air. He kept thrusting shallow thrust into you until there were no more but faint ropes spilling from his shaft.

Satoru didn't stop until you were a begging mess, shaking from pleasure and exhaustion, pussy twitching from the last one of numerous orgasms, making his thick milky cum trickle out of you while he kept his shaft nestled in your pussy keeping anymore of his seed from escaping as he watches your eyes flutter close with a satisfied smug smirk on his handsome face.

"You look beautiful, Baby." he expressed with a chuckle, adoring the way you nuzzle into his neck, exhausted. He stared at you like you were the most precious thing this dark world has ever given him. And it only took a minute for that sinful lust to fade into tenderness as he sees you slump forward. Satoru was very much proud to see how much cum he had inside of you but he needs to take care of you too.

Stepping into the house, he walk on the stairs leading to your bedroom and slowly pulled out of you to grab a towel but your soft whines halted him making him look back to the bed to see you trying to get up.

"Stay, with me." You breathe, looking at him with pleading tired eyes.

"I have to wipe you." Satoru kissed your forehead, pulling the duvet to hide your naked body or else he'll ravage you mercilessly again. "I'll be quick."

"Nooo, hold me." You frowned sleepily.

Satoru finds it adorable when you become so whiny, so needy. It's one of those days when you need him more than usual. With no words left, he climbs on the bed, joining you, letting your head lay on his chest as he closes his eyes while stroking your head.

Not a minute he could feel something grinding down his half-hard shaft.

"Fucking stop it, minx." He whispered darkly, dragging his words into a deep slur.

But damn that little demon with a pitchfork of yours acting up again. A soft hand grabs his erect shaft, slowly sliding into your soaking pussy making your husband cuss and grab your hips and seize your lips for a sloppy kiss.

"You naughty woman. You're not walking out of here until I'm done."

The soft sun peek through the sheer curtains of your bedroom. It was already dawn when you slept and your head is pounding, your body aching, begging for sleep.

"Awake?" Soft kisses rain on your shoulders, a hand pulled you closer and your back collided with a hard chest.

"Let me sleep, 'm still tired." Bemoaning about your sore body. You determinedly shut your eyes despite Satoru's kisses and caresses.

"Breakfast's ready, c'mon I'll feed you, Baby." Satoru wakes up early, which drags you to join him as well.

"Nooooo~" You faked crocodile tears but it never works on Satoru as he effortlessly pulls you to sit on his lap and move the table laden with food.

Defeated, you opened your eyes and made yourself comfortable on your husband's lap, nuzzling into his neck, leaning unto his bare chest, while watching him sip on his mug of tea. Satoru looks damn fine with his messy bedroom hair, sweatpants being the only thing covering his perfectly sculpted body. His dark vivid tattoos kept you busy, tracing them every time you get to touch him.

"Any plans for today?" Satoru offered you a piece of toasted sourdough with egg, bacon, and cheese on top. It's a meager meal but the effort is so much more than enough. Knowing there's nothing much in the fridge yet your husband still managed to fix you a meal.

"Nothing much, anything you wanna do 'Toru?"

He shook his head and cradled your back, making you lean on his chest and you listened to his staccato heartbeat while he eats.

"Do you really want a baby?" Satoru started out of nowhere, looking at your expression.

"Of course, do you not want a baby right now?" Your heartbeat started picking up.

"I want..." He kissed your temples. "I do want a child with you. But if the words of people are bothering you don't even mind them."

Satoru knows, how your eyes are cast down when someone mentions the matter of a child. He never mentioned it again to keep you from worrying too much about it. And those who try to challenge him by hurting you with words are swiftly and quietly dealt with. He has never had you for himself only after so long because you left for college and there's so much to catch up with you. He's never in a rush to have a child, as long as he has you.

He would love an heir for his legacy. And for the clan too. But if that's what will tear you away from him, then it's not even an option, to begin with. A child pales in comparison to you in his eyes. Without you, it'll all be meaningless.

"It's not about them, I do want a baby Satoru, I want a family." You bit your lips, a habit you've never grown out of. Fingers starting to fidget with panic in your eyes. But Satoru held your hand, bringing the back of your hands to his lips before your doubt spirals.

"I want it to." Satoru lifted your chin with his finger and kissed you softly. "So don't worry too much about it Baby, I promised you. We'll do this slowly, together." He knows how badly you wish for a family. "This lifetime belongs only to you wife." He whispered like a prayer.

"As I to you." You nod, feeling his arms tighten around you. As long as your husband is here, it's enough to set your heart at ease.

The comfortable silence is interrupted by a phone call. Satoru reaches for his phone and the sudden frown adorning his temples forebodes an ominous feeling in your heart. The call was followed shortly by your husband's gruff replies. It was brief and the call ended.

Satoru looks at you and breathes as he held you closer in his strong arms.

"Pack your bags, we need to go home Baby, your father is ambushed."

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned image(s) and song(s) used belongs to their respective owner(s)

General Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @lexiene @tender-rosiey

#[—coast & altitudes]#mafia gojo x reader #jjk mafia au #jjk mafia gojo #jjk married gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #greycaelum #gojo satoru x wife #gojo x y/n #mafia gojo smut #mafia gojo yandere #mafia gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk gojo smut #gojo smut #husband gojo x wife reader

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thundersoothers · 1 year ago

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gojo and geto going to one of those marriage meet and greets — for shits and giggles, free drinks, judging pretentious men, and to look at pretty women (not talk to them. they don’t do that. they talk big game but don’t actually speak to any)

so they’re standing against the wall, (lookin fucking SCRUMPTIOUS in their suits), watching everyone and— oh? who’s that beautiful girl who just came in? her dress is gorgeous and it fits her so well, she’s actually really sexy, and her hair looks so….

wait is that—

YOU?!!! their classmate? what are you doing here?! at a marriage meeting? this is only for well-known clans and the elite class. they call you princess as a joke, but… could you actually be one? are you part of some clan?

hold up, you’re talking to some MAN?! they fuckin PRANCE over and tell the guy to shoo—literally gojo says “shoo now”—and you know you’re in DEEP shit. you didn’t know they were coming, you would have tried harder to come up with an excuse not to go if you knew.

they level you with a stare. they love the way you shudder. “so, princess. what are you doing here?”

then y’all 3 (yeah. all 3, u have 2 holes for a reason baby let’s be serious) end up fucking in the bathroom or find a place to fuck outside or deadass speed home so they can fuck you

you shouldn’t talk to any men here! you should just marry them!! that’ll solve the problem (they’re 100% on the idea) <333

#gojo #gojo imagine #geto #geto imagine #nothin gets me like a man in a suit #like put one on and i’ll go feral #I wanna marry these dudes. both of em #I can take them at the same time don’t you worry #lux.gojo #lux.geto #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk imagine #jjk smut #gojo smut #geto smut #stsg #stsg x reader #stsg smut

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puwog-ilyg-iwa · 10 days ago

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"𝓒𝓪𝓷 𝓘?"

synopsis

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You and Gojo just got married! It's your honeymoon now, but, what are honeymoons for?

info

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Word Count: 858 Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Content MDNI! : fem!wife! Reader, husband! Satoru Gojo, use of the word "heat" referring to crotch, fingering, Satoru eating you out Warning(?): Sexual Content!, Not proofread a/n: Ok so this is short and sweet, but I like how it turned out, if you want to go to that part, skip to paragraph 5, including the short ones! ----------------------------------------------------

You and Satoru just got to your hotel abroad, it's your honeymoon and you're so excited to be able to spend time alone with Satoru, especially since you've actually barely ever been alone with him. You both got to the hotel, and you went straight to shower, you had been on multiple flights in a row, and you were sweaty, so you went to take a long, cold shower. Satoru was impatient and went towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist while in front of you. He looked down and kissed you, he smiled warmly and then he said something, "Let me shower with you", he said it in a playful tone, but you knew he was serious, you didn't see why you would reject his offer, so you accepted. You both got in the shower, warm water filling the room with steam, he hugged you from behind, then grabbed the soap and started washing your back, this whole moment was so relaxing, and you probably would've fallen asleep if not for what he did next. After he finished washing your back, you leaned back on his chest, and he started lathering soap on your neck, your waist, and your stomach. But then you felt his hands on your chest. Your breath hitched when you felt his hand on your chest so suddenly, but you leaned more into him.

You had never done something quite like this, the most you two had done was kiss, and that was still a bit flustering for you. But at this moment, you felt safe and at peace, so you really didn't mind it.

He stayed at your chest for probably more time than he needed to, but you didn't say anything, you actually enjoyed it quite a bit. He went down to your thighs, and you felt your face get red. You turned around to face him, and you buried your face in his chest, too embarrassed to look at him. He lifted your chin up so you would look at him, "You look so cute like this, but you don't have to be embarrassed, we are married now after all" he said, sweetly, and then he kissed you while still lathering soap on the back of you thighs, as well as slightly on your ass. You hugged him tightly and moved your face to the side to breathe, then he crouched and started washing your calves, you felt so embarrassed, and he was treating you like a goddess. He respected you, he was a gentleman, he was romantic and nice, he was strong, and he was careful with you.

How much better could this man get!?

He stood up and pinned you against the shower wall, then he got back down and kneeled in front of you, his hands on the back of your thighs, he was pressed up against your legs, and he was looking up at you. He kissed your thighs and moved his hands towards your inner thighs, he looked up at you and asked "Can I?", he looked sweet, and you knew he wouldn't hurt you or anything, and you also knew if you said no he wouldn't get mad or do anything, but, you also wanted to. "Yes... Please...". And with that, he started getting closer and closer to your heat, until he lightly kissed it, making you tremble a bit. You felt him smile against your skin, and he continued kissing, and then you felt his tongue teasing your clit. He licked circles around it, your knees were trembling, and you were breathing heavily. He kept teasing you, and then he started licking your entrance lightly, slightly pushing the tip of his tongue in, he moved his finger inside you and started moving it in and out of you while starting to suck on your clit at the same time. You started to lose balance, but then you felt his free hand push your ass up to keep you standing, you held onto the wall behind you, and he started to move his finger in and out of you even faster, making you moan, you took his hair in your hand, trying to find a bit of leverage, and you kept moaning. Your noises just made him go even faster, he was kissing your clit, rubbing it with his thumb and sucking on it in turns, you felt overstimulated, and you felt yourself get closer and closer to an orgasm. Until with one final movement on your clit, you felt yourself let go to your arousal, and you started to tremble even more. Satoru stood again and helped you stay up. He kissed your forehead lovingly, "Let's clean you up princess", and then he started washing you again, making sure you felt comfortable. When he finished, he put clothes on you and carried you to bed, he carefully put you down, covered you with a blanket, and then went to the other side of the bed and laid down next to you.

You snuggled up to him, his breath on your head. And before you knew it, you had fallen asleep on him.

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OK!! So, that wasn't very intense, but I felt like writing smth like that so there it is. If you liked it PLEASE FOLLOW ME! Im sorry for that, but like it would make me soooo happy, it would help me out A TON! Also, my last fic got SO many likes! I'm glad more ppl liked it / found it, and since I'm busy most times, I might only upload on weekends, idk. Anyway, thanks so much again, I hope y'all enjoyed, and bye!!

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alala122344 · 9 months ago

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hi.. ehem zo liek does anysone know if tee (user saetoru) still writes nd if so does anyone knows where.. CUZ THEY'RE MY FAV TUMBLR WRITER HERE AOBZ.. i know theres a whole drama thing and shit but i just couldn't keep up nd can't rlly bother to read all the writers’ dramas thats long as wjat they write cuz all i rllly care ab is their writings 😭😭 i don't interact w anyone here (except for some few writers i sent asks anonymously) and just solely use this frickin app to read fics and seeing my fav writer dissapear isz js 💔💔 for me,, (i’ve never interacted w tjem b4 even js sending compliments on their asks cuz i’m too shy for that..) I JSBLIKE THEIR WRITING 🙁 I dONT see updates on their ao3 either

edit.. i AM NOT TEE !! i’m js a merely lurker here waiting for fics plz dont assume i am tjem 💔💔

#i miss their fics #especially rb!gojo #i think i remmeber them saying that they'll post fics soemwhere but i dont remember 💔#including married life w rb!gojo i think...#DONT ATTACK ME PLS I JS LOVEVTHEIR FICS THAT MUCH 💔#stares at rb!gojo #rb!gojo #saetoru #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo smut #satoru x gojo reader #iM SORRY FOR CLOGGING IDK IF ITS CALLED THAT BUT IM JS REALLY CURIOUS 🙁#richboy!gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #tokrev x reader #tokrev smut #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #tokrev fluff #plz dm me if yk 😓#if abyones unbothered enough to do that..#i doubt though cuz all the dramas and stuffs..#IM JUST RLLY CURIOUS AND MISS THEIR FICS I SWEAR #i know they did or said problematic tjings but doesnt mean i support that!! i js like their fics like rlly..#I KEPT REPEATING THINGS ALL OVER AGAIN SORRY #smoNE HELP ME

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lalunanymph · 3 months ago

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MARRY THE TRAITOR ; gojo satoru

⟡ the day you met your demise is the same day you met gojo satoru, your betrothed from a world so different from yours—a cruel prince who is undoubtedly in love with someone else. as the stakes rise and you race against the clock to beat your brutal fate, can you make the ultimate choice between your heart or your happily ever after?

includes: arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, unrequited love, slow burn, yandere!gojo, prince!gojo, princess!reader, reader is referred to as 'cerena', princess cerena has pink hair and feminine features, reader has transferred into cerena's body, isekai-ed reader, mentions of death, language, suggestive, explicit smut (not between reader and gojo though lmaosgfj), themes of classism

⟡ masterlist

ACT 1, SCENE 2: THE TUNNELS

“Do not touch me,” your deathly warning stills the entire room. “Do not speak to me like this and if you wish to protect her reputation—”

Your eyes fall on the maid still cowering on the floor, her eyes turned to the ground, but a shadow of a smirk on her face belies her true intentions.

She was attempting to frame me… or, Cerena. She is trying to get us in trouble with this powerful, spiteful man.

“Next time, choose someone else who doesn’t make it obvious that this is all a ploy to smear my name.”

Such words falling from your lips take you aback because they don’t belong in your day-to-day vocabulary, but in this instant, it feels right to throw them in his face.

You turn your back on his gaping, surprised expression, picking up the hem of your gown to make your graceful departure. But, as you sweep your gaze over the sweeping stone pillars touching the ceiling and the scaglia flooring which looks so out of place with your perception of what reality is, you find yourself faltering, looking at one of the maids for help.

“Where is my room?” you stammer, drawing more of their confusion and adding to the disarray of this already convoluted scene.

The man glares at you, looking you up and down as if he is trying to piece together your odd behavior.

“What do you mean you don’t know where your room is?”

Chagrin and embarrassment well up inside your chest, staining your cheeks, and you clear your throat.

“I… seem to have misplaced my bearings today. I do not feel well. Could someone please lead me to my chambers?”

A second of agonizing silence engulfs the entire room. Then, a mousy, brown-haired maid steps forward, bowing graciously.

“Let me take you to your chambers, milady.”

You breathe a quiet sigh of relief. Preparing to follow her, your path is once more blocked by this infuriating man who will not relent in drawing out your humiliation.

Darkness settles in those clear, azure eyes, and his jaw is clenched, though he doesn’t put his hands on you again.

“We are not done speaking about this yet, Cerena. I will make you own up to your mistake… whether you like it or not.”

Paralyzed to one spot, you watch as he departs from your side to kneel down and gently gather the maid in his arms, guiding her to her feet as he speaks to her in low tones, a look of endearment and tenderness softening the harsh edges of his azure eyes.

It hits you then like a lightning bolt.

He is obviously and irrevocably head over heels in love with that simple maid.

The jarring change of his temperament from blatant vengefulness to tender consideration shocks you to the core, numbing your entire body with the prejudice and injustice of it all, freezing you to the spot.

“Milady?” The maid who volunteered to lead you back to your chambers approaches you carefully, interrupting you from your ruminations. “Shall we?”

You nod after a moment, dazed, and turn your back on the vile memories of the spectacle you were forced to endure, following behind her silently.

The sound of your heels on the red limestone floor echo in the solitary quiet, and you fidget with your hands. Eventually, your curiosity wins and you clear your throat, getting her attention.

“I apologize that you had to see that.”

To your surprise, the maid chokes back a gasp, quickly darting her eyes to the ground when you turn your gaze to her.

“It is fine, milady,” she stammered, lacing her fingers together in a tight grip; you notice she is trembling slightly, and unable to look you in the eye for longer than a few seconds.

“You seem afraid of me.”

You meant it as an observation, but to her, it was a reprimand. She bows her head a few times, shoulders tight and tense with fear.

“I apologize, milady. I will do better next time. I will not—”

“Hey, hey,” you reach out to grab her arms, your voice low and soothing; trying to earn her trust. “Calm down. I am not going to scold you. I am just… stating a fact. Why are you so afraid of me?”

Her lower lip trembles and her brown eyes shift from you again, onto the red stone floor.

“Milady… you’re… not well known for being the most patient princess in the realm. And you love to berate and belittle the people who work for you. We are all trying our best to accommodate you, Your Highness, so please, cut us some slack and we will show you how devoted we are to the crown and to your wellbeing.”

It’s a trained answer, one she recites from the top of her head like a prayer of mercy.

You drop your hands, aware that your bizarre attitude may be scaring her.

“I am… sorry. Please. Accept my apologies. I did not sense I was being unreasonable.”

Her surprise is a palpable emotion that sweeps across her face, and she actually gasps, taken aback by your heartfelt apology.

“Milady, it’s… please, do not apologize to me! I am but a lowly servant and you should—you should not demean yourself like that—”

“It’s alright,” you stop her refusal with a sheepish wave of your hands, attempting to soothe her misgivings. “I have done you wrong and I wish to take accountability over it. I truly am apologetic for… my behavior.”

The young woman looks at you like she’s never seen you before, her eyes wide and unflinching.

“What is your name?” You inquire politely, and the look of surprise in those coffee brown eyes deepen. Somewhere, shimmering in its depths, you see a hint of respect and reverence.

“Elara, milady.”

You nod, forcing a kind smile so as not to petrify her further with your raging confusion and stuttering awkwardness.

“Elara. A beautiful name. Could I ask you a few questions—and please, be as truthful as you can when you answer them.”

She doesn’t hesitate to nod, the fear guarding her heart easing slightly, allowing her defenses to weaken.

Your inquisitiveness is at an undeniable peak, and you need to whet your suspicions or else you would go insane.

“Who was that man from earlier? The one who claims we are engaged?”

The young woman fails to temper her look of obvious confoundment, slowing her pace so she can tilt her head to the side and regard you.

“Milady, are you feeling unwell?”

Her concern ticks you towards an internal panic. Your laughter sounds strained even to your own ears, and you shake your head, struggling to come up with a viable excuse.

“I suppose… The chill of today is making me foggy.”

Elara purses her lips, noting your look of disarray, but doesn’t keep the information you seek from you.

“That man is your betrothed, milady. The Crowned Prince of the Northern Haleway—Prince Gojo Satoru. You both have been engaged for a very long time, since the tender age of nine, and are set to be married this following year.”

Immediately, your stomach sinks to your toes, and you release a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding.

A crowned prince?

Betrothed and married by this year?

You?

The questions swirled in your mind like a raging tempest, and you must’ve worried her with your stunned silence for she stopped in mid-stride, reaching out to tap your shoulder.

“Milady?”

You shake your head, trying to tame the panic down before it could consume you and you would fall to your knees, shaking and sobbing from the uncontrollable fear.

“Wh… who am I?”

This time, she gasps, unable to hold back her dread when she hears your question, her brown eyes wavering with fear.

“Milady, shall I fetch for the physician?”

Her tone rises up a decibel, and you shush her, shaking your head vehemently. Spotting a relatively hidden alcove, you grab her arm and tug her into the secluded spot, her bright, brown eyes shining with confusion even in the dim lighting of this dark nook.

“Please. Trust me when I say this—I have no idea who I am, where I am or who everyone else is around here. I’m not from this world. I am not from this land. My name is Y/N, and I am not this Princess Cerena or person you think I am.”

Elara gapes, unable to believe her ears. She gives you a probing look, as if to determine if you were trying to pull her leg.

But, when your gaze doesn’t falter for a single second, she takes one step back, a look of horror bleeding across her features.

“Impossible. This is… how can you… what do you mean you are not from this world?”

You take a deep breath and try your best to explain your side of this confusion.

“The last thing I remember before waking up in the middle of the prince’s tantrum was a man hitting me over my head to steal my purse. He was a thief and he—” your voice shakes, all the tension and confusion coalescing into a tight ball underneath your throat, triggering your desperate tears which you try so hard to fight off.

“—he left me to die in an alleyway. I thought I was dead… that my life was over, but then, I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was… Satoru, you said? Yes. The first thing I saw was him. Satoru. I’ve never met him before in my life.”

Elara is dumbfounded, that much you can expect. But, she doesn’t refute your words.

Believing you without a single shred of doubt.

Was Cerena such an awful person that even a bit of kindness can sway her to my side?

Your thoughts are loud, ricocheting around the recesses of your mind and you wait for her to believe you.

Elara eventually dips her head forward, absorbing your words.

“I… have faith in your words, milady.” Her gaze is scrutinizing. “You are different, there is no doubt about that. Your words, your expressions, certain phrases you use. You are not Lady Cerena, and for that, I believe it is a blessing.”

She clasped her hands in front of her body, having relieved herself of the burdensome thoughts shrouding her mind.

Without preamble or a word in from you, she gestures towards the end of the hallway, showering you with some much needed kindness you didn’t know you were desperate for until she gives you a wry smile. Your heart squeezes longingly in your chest.

“Come. You must be tired from your… journey. I will prepare your room and then, you may rest.”

For an hour after that, you sit around in your room, bored to death.

There wasn’t much to do in a world like this besides wearing pretty dresses, lounge around and being alert for any strange sounds coming from outside the hardwood doors.

Your bed is lavishly decorated with the best wool these lands could offer, warm yet cool under your touch to insulate you from the mountainous chill. A peek inside Cerena’s closet confirms that most of the treasury money her parents must’ve sent down to Northern Haleway went to these carefully crafted pieces of organza, lace and encrusted jewels upon mountains of sheer and gossamer dresses. Even her cloaks were of the highest quality—mink and lambskin leather, tailored to fit her body perfectly.

Like a diabetic in a candy store, you excitedly shift through the elaborate pieces, feeling their fine workmanship. Many of them were low cut and sleeveless, intended to show off her petite shoulders and defined collarbones. It was obvious she had an eye for such aesthetic advantages.

Having seen yourself in the mirror, you conclude that Cerena is one of, if not, the most beautiful woman you have ever seen in your life.

With her cascading, naturally-tinted strawberry blonde curls and fine nose, her visage could easily strike admiration in hearts around the world, no matter where her dainty feet took her.

In contrast, you were less feminine and refined than her, a paltry shadow in the face of such regal beauty that you flinched and eventually stepped away from the mirror, as if looking at another woman’s reflection for too long may scorch you.

Choosing to lay listlessly on the bed, you weren’t used to such free time on your hands.

Back in your home world, you would be using this ample stretch of relaxation to clean up your apartment, cook, or perhaps, even get started on another bouquet arrangement you often did for your friends at no cost.

Your eyes slip close, though sleep struggles to find you.

Eventually, you’re driven to your feet, tired of this fatiguing ennui weighing heavily on your shoulders.

Slipping your feet into a pair of fine satin slippers, you ditch the loud heels for whispery footsteps on the stone floor, taking this opportunity to explore the castle.

You touch the cool stones, feeling the heat from the sconces above bathe your skin with a warm glow. The castle is structured in such a way that the winding hallways and open windows brought in as much natural sunlight as possible. Stopping shy of a larger balcony, you step outside and feel the cool air grazing your cheeks.

Northern Haleway’s stronghold was located up a steep foothill. Below, as far as the eye could see, lay craggily rocks and sharp jagged cliffs which would kill anyone upon impact.

You shudder at such natural magnificence, and force your feet to take you down the hallway, every step echoing softly behind you.

For such a big castle, there weren’t many around, and you supposed this wing where Cerena lived was explicitly ordered to be emptied for the sake of the princess’ unstable mood swings.

I wonder… where can I find the throne room…

You had only ever seen such regalia in picture books and movies. A part of you wanted to witness it in real time; to see if the sheer splendor matches your imagination.

However, as you cross the threshold into an elaborate sitting room, you hear whispers and movement from the other end of a closed door.

Curious and hesitant at the same time, you let your inquisitiveness get the best of you, taking one step closer to the elaborate doorway, pressing your ear to the wainscoted surface.

“... mhm… oh… Satoru…”

Your ears burn and you smother a gasp with your open palm.

Muffled grunts could be heard from the other end of the door, and a sinking feeling rests heavily in your gut.

The lewd sounds were unmistakable. You could easily picture the ghastly, horrid man from before, with his towering height and broad shoulders, ramming the entirety of his cock inside the maid’s smaller, but willing body.

Her cries echo feebly, laced with ecstasy and pleasure.

Without warning, you feel someone touching your elbow and nearly squeak, if it weren’t for Elara’s wide brown eyes dominating your vision. Catching your composure in time, you bite your lower lip hard enough to taste blood, hoping to every god above that the prince and his lover did not catch your slip up.

“Milady—”

You shush her with a finger to your lips, shaking your head frantically. Elara takes your cue and quietens, those coffee hues widening when she picks up on the same sounds you were eavesdropping on.

Her mouth falls open wider, a scandalized look taking over her features.

Satoru and Miri find respite in reaching their peak at the same time, their desperate gasps and moans twining as one. You hear them kiss passionately, and it makes your gut turn to think that the same man Cerena is engaged to is so blatantly flaunting his affair right in the very same castle she lived in.

Anger rises inside of you, dark and tarry like a bubbling vat of acid.

No matter how horrible a woman was painted to be, she did not deserve this treatment from someone claiming to be her fiancé.

You were upset on Cerena’s behalf, especially when the heir himself chuckled, a low and disturbing sound.

“I cannot believe she stalked away from you with such boldness,” Miri muttered huskily, obviously trying to further seed this divide between Satoru and Cerena.

The man in question hummed, as if the idea of insulting and sullying the name of his future wife and queen barely ruffled his composure.

“She will pay for what she has done. I will not tolerate such rudeness and discourtesy, especially since she knows you mean a lot more to me than she does.”

You shiver at the conviction and contempt in his tone. Glancing at Elara, you note that she too seems engrossed in the conversation, unable to peel her ear off the hardwood.

Miri laughs, light and breezy, though what she says next chills you right to the bone.

“She seemed even more agitated today. I suppose she really is coming to her senses and is close to realizing that she has lost you, Your Highness. And as we all know, Princess Cerena can never lose.”

Her words drip with sarcasm and resentment, feeding the flames of Satoru’s vengefulness.

“That idiotic woman. I despise her very being,” he mutters haughtily. “Every time she opens her mouth, I wish to never hear her voice again. To wipe her from my memories and remove her from my presence. It is not enough that I am to be wedded to her, but my father seems adamant on pushing Cerena onto me like an unwanted gift.”

Miri hums. “And her attitude must not be very pleasant as well, isn’t it, my love?”

Satoru barks a laugh, like she’s just uttered the funniest thing his twisted mind could conjure.

“Pleasant? Cerena? Those two words can never exist in a singular sentence. No, she is not pleasant. In fact, she is the opposite of pleasant. She is an insolent, vicious and repulsive creature. If only I could, I will teach her a lesson so she will understand that this world is only tolerable to her because she is a princess. I wish to hurt her in ways she can never fathom and destroy her until no man would ever want her again.”

Horror steals the last of your thoughts. A warm hand clasps around your fingers and you realize Elara is lending you her strength.

You are suddenly aware of how badly your hands are shaking.

Miri giggles, as if her lover’s words are music to her ears.

“Have you given thought to the suggestion I raised before? To kill the princess?”

Your breathing stops, and Elara flickers her gaze to you, eyes wide and wavering.

Kill… Cerena?

He wouldn’t do that, would he?

Your trembles become harder to control. You have no idea what this man is capable of, and for the first time in your life, you are terrified of the power he wields, indomitable compared to yours.

The horrifying reminder comes to you in a flash.

This was a different world, one where men ruled and women obeyed.

You knew enough from the movies and books to understand that if a man wanted you dead in this era, it would be by his law and his alone.

Satoru echoes her sentiments with a chuckle.

“You really are hellbent on me getting rid of her, aren’t you?”

You can almost imagine Miri’s pout.

“She is the only thing standing in between the two of us from being together. Don’t you want to get rid of that?”

You gape, astounded by her boldness. This… this bitch!

You can’t believe the treason you’re hearing—for surely, it is treason to want a princess dead, especially for a commoner to speak such words.

Elara seems to be of the same opinion, her quivering lips weighing into a downturn grimace.

Satoru’s lazy laughter grates your ears, and you listen in for what he has to say next.

Please, you beg internally; hoping for someone to hear your desperate plea and prayer for this man to see reason and be merciful. Please, have a heart for this woman whose body I am inhabiting and do not harm her.

Your flimsy hopes break upon impact, like a sandcastle succumbing to a wave in one fell swoop.

“I promise I will get rid of her,” Satoru’s conviction punches you right in the gut, leaving you breathless and in despair. “I promise that once she is dead, I will wed you and we will be together, my love. Forever. You have my word.”

You stagger backwards, unable to listen anymore.

Tearing out of the room as quietly as your footsteps can take you, you hear Elara’s faint footfalls following behind. Her grip on your arm is steady, supporting your shaking knees.

“Milady—”

Out of earshot from the vile man and his wicked maid, you finally reveal the true fear corrupting your soul.

“Elara, please. You have to get me out of this castle.”

Her face pales, throwing her freckles into stark view.

“Milady, I-I can’t. To hide a princess is considered high treason—”

“Please,” you choked, grasping her arms, your eyes wild with fright. “You heard what the prince said. You heard what he promised. If he fulfills it, I will die here. Please. You have to help me.”

You weren’t above getting on your knees to clutch at her skirt, begging and pleading for your life. Luckily, Elara would never make you commit such an atrocity.

Her thin hands grasp yours, her mousy face filled with a fiery determination you’ve never seen a woman possess.

“I may know a place to hide you. Follow me, princess.”

She leads you straight to the other end of the castle, pushing open a heavy wooden door. It’s the maids quarters and there, she fetches a plain cloak, throwing it on your shoulders and fastening it around your throat.

“Make sure your hood is always pulled up,” she warned, beckoning you to follow her.

You pass rows upon rows of straw beds with crumpled linen sheets, aghast at the state of the help’s sleeping area. The squalor fills you with anger, especially when you compare it to the lavish beddings of Princess Cerena’s room.

Is this what the royal family allows? You seethe internally. Such pitiable states of living were reserved for animals, not humans who devoted their entire lives to serving the crown.

But, you don’t have much time to ruminate on the anger bubbling inside of you, following Elara’s silhouette through another door. She brings you into a labyrinth-like hallway barely illuminated by greasy old sconces, gesturing for you to follow her.

There is nothing you can do than to put your faith in this young, kind maid as she leads you from one winding path to another, her footsteps light and sure.

A rat scampered somewhere to your left and you shriek, earning a timely glare from Elara who shushes you.

Contrite, you swallow your unease and trail behind her like a ghostly woman of the night.

Eventually, the winding paths turn straighter, and there is another door in the distance.

This one is heavier than the last, as if meant to guard the inhabitants from something outside; or to keep them confined within.

It takes the both of you to push it wide, and when the door finally creaks open, you’re hit with a face full of cold, biting air.

Elara doesn’t waste any time, grabbing your wrist and tugging you forward.

“Come on. I know a woman who will help you. She lives in a nearby forest.”

You huff, trying to keep up with her.

All around you, standing like stalwart giants, towering pine trees press close, shrouding the behemothian castle from view, their sharp scent stinging your nostrils. Elara’s pulse is thudding against your fingers, a rapid fire rate that fills you with both determination and dread.

“What was that?” You call above the rushing of your fleeing, sensing it was safe to speak now.

She glanced back at you, lips in a thin line.

“The castle tunnels. It’s barely functional, but we use it sometimes to receive bulkier goods without being seen on the main floors.”

She guides you further into the forest, and you sense this isn’t the right time for questions. Elara makes you jump over a tiny, bubbling brook, and you were glad for swapping out your heels for these manageable slippers.

Finally, after what feels like hours dashing through the thickening forest with nothing but foliage and the cold air whipping your hair into a disarray, Elara stops you shy of a clearing.

Inside the circle is a tiny hut, smoke spewing out of its brick red chimney.

She doesn’t hesitate to walk to the door, knocking on it. When there is no reply, she does it again, firmly this time, and you wait with bated breath for whoever is on the other side to reveal themselves.

The lock clicks and your heart constricts.

An elderly woman with unruly, white hair, pries the door open, her crinkled face frowning when she sees Elara.

“Dear? Whatever are you doing here?”

Her wizened, rheumy eyes move to you, and her gaze becomes sharper.

“Who is this?”

“Nana, this is a friend,” Elara muttered, grasping my elbow and tugging me forward. “Her name is—”

“Y/N,” you supply immediately, giving her a subtle shake of your head. You would rather the older woman did not know your true identity. “It is a pleasure to meet you…”

You trail off, waiting for her to introduce herself.

Elara’s grandmother purses her thin lips, and shifts her gaze from her granddaughter to this suspiciously noble looking woman.

“Aeva,” she finally answered. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

Once reassured that her grandmother would not react badly, Elara gives her a rundown of your situation. The older woman listens carefully, never once interrupting her granddaughter.

After gathering her thoughts, she makes a swift decision, nodding and gesturing to you to come closer.

For a split second, she skims her gaze up and down your body, noting your pink curls, the clean look of your skin and nails.

“If you are to stay here with me, no one can know your true identity… Princess.”

Elara flinched, like a child caught in the middle of a lie. In reaction to her granddaughter’s flimsy attempt to hide the truth, Aeva shoots her a smug smile.

“Trying to fool an old woman who has tasted more salt of the earth than you—not a wise move, young lady.”

But, she doesn’t prod or scold her any further.

Her attention lands on you again, and her thin lips quirk downward into a heavy frown.

“If you want to stay here, you need to work, my dear. No slacking off, and definitely no people to attend to you at your beck and call. Can you bear that?”

Bless her heart. She doesn’t sense the difference in you, thinking you’re nothing more than a spoiled, childish princess.

Eagerly and without a second thought, you nod.

“Yes. I understand. I will help you with any chores you need. I am good at cooking and taking care of a hearth. You need not worry about my reliability.”

Aeva's expression wavers and she shoots Elara an amused look.

“Alright then, Princess. We shall see if your words ring true.”

Elara gives you a tight smile, one which you return. Recognizing the confidence and reassurance she was trying to instill in you.

“Take heart, Princess,” her words soothe you.

“You will be safe here.”

Days had passed since Satoru had last seen you in the annex hallway, the memory of his confrontation with you still fresh in his mind.

As hard as he tries to ignore the chiming in his head to check up on you, to seek you out and ensure you're not sulking or throwing another nasty fit, he's grateful for the quiet your absence gives him.

Miri visits his chambers almost every day, giving her body to him and warming his sheets till the morning sun illuminates the red stone floors. As he watches the rays touch her face, he traces her features softly, wishing for nothing more in the world than to do this for the rest of his life.

His love for Miri came as an anchor, providing him a lifeline when he thought he had lost everything his heart had to offer.

Though he feels it unfair to indulge in her fantasies of some day getting rid of you, Satoru can’t deny that there’s a certain appeal to that idea.

Removing his brash and volatile fiancé, and replacing her with a woman far gentler, graceful and courteous—Satoru thinks it’s Miri who should bear his ring upon her finger. Be the woman he wakes up to every morning despite her lowly status and economic standing.

Some people were more suited for the life of a royalty, and he is of the opinion that compared to you, Miri far exceeds the idea of what it means to be a Princess while you, in all your snobbishness and arrogance, deserved to be at the bottom of the barrel.

Encompassing his mindset as a whole, Satoru feels a certain fragile peace he hasn't encountered in a long while, though it all shatters one morning when his father, King Satoshi, calls him into the throne room.

Magnificent and intimidating in one breath, the great King Gojo Satoshi sits regally on his throne, the seat beside him stingingly empty.

Satoru doesn’t let his gaze linger on where his mother used to sit, instead, bowing deeply when he catches his father’s eye, awaiting his next words.

“Arise, son.”

The heir apparent to Northern Haleway straightens his back, azure eyes flinty and guarded.

“Father. You requested for me.”

Satoshi nods, his expression unreadable.

“Son, I need to ask you a question.”

Satoru steels himself for an unexpected request or a test of his allegiance; both options having been given before by his rigid and non-permissive father.

But, what his father asks next renders him stupefied and breathless, thrown completely off kilter.

“Satoru… where is your Princess?”

The young man feels his palms dampening with sweat. In response, he scoffs, shaking his head.

“Cerena? I have not seen her, Father. Why do you inquire?”

His affectionless response does not sit well with the older Gojo, who bristles and deepens his glare.

“You mean to tell me you do not care that your fiancé—who, by the way, hasn’t been seen for the past two days—has disappeared, and you’re questioning why I'm asking you about it?”

Anger drips from his accusing question, and Satoru schools his expression into neutrality, unwilling to give away his true emotions of mirth and relief.

Cerena is missing… she hasn’t been seen for two whole days… is this the Gods answering my prayers?

Satoshi, clearly angered and insulted by his son’s lack of haste and concern, sits back against his throne, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“Satoru, I am putting you in charge of the search party for the princess. If the kingdom of Kraith—Cerena’s parents—were to know that she is lost, there will be tragic repercussions for our country. You have to find her and bring her back. Am I making myself clear?”

Satoru stiffened at the implications of what would happen should the neighboring country uncover this slight.

Trade contracts will be affected, livelihoods will be destroyed and the monetary resources Kraith offered through their bountiful grain industry would be in jeopardy.

But, that’s not all at stake.

“If you fail to find her before this week’s end,” Satoshi continues, his turquoise eyes boring deeply into his son’s ones. “I will revoke your ascension to the throne and give it to your cousin, Yuuta. Is that what you desire?”

Stiffly, Satoru shakes his head, shame and anger burning inside him like a brewing storm.

“No, Your Majesty.”

Apparently satisfied that his threats have hit their mark, Satoshi reclines into the oversized chair, his large hands curling around the bejeweled lion’s head knobs adorning the end of the throne’s arms.

“Good. I expect to hear news from you by this week’s end, Satoru.”

Taking that as his cue for dismissal, the young heir bows stiffly to his father before stepping out of the throne room. As he rounds the corner, he’s caught off guard by his lover, who darts from an alcove to block his path.

“What did he want?” Miri asks breathlessly.

Satoru frowns but doesn’t push her away, his broad shoulders sagging under the weight of the gleaming regalia and military awards pinned to his lapels. The heavy burden of his princely duties leaves him feeling hopeless and worn down.

“He wants me to find her—Cerena—and bring her back or else he will give my cousin, Yuuta, the rites of ascension.”

Miri gasps, her face blanching.

“He cannot do that!”

“He can,” Satoru runs a hand down his face, expelling a tired sigh. “He is the King and he can do whatever he wants. I have to search for her. Cerena. I need to find her or else everything I’ve worked for will be in vain.”

Miri glances over her shoulder before she wraps her arms around him.

Satoru takes comfort in her embrace, inhaling the soft scent of musk and jasmine floating from her hair.

They stay like this for a while, two lovers holding onto each other as the differences in their standing and burdens remain determined to keep them apart.

“It’s the perfect timing,” Miri suddenly gushes, pulling back just far enough so he can see the opportunity twinkling in her eyes.

Satoru’s confusion only makes her laugh and she leans in closer, as if to impart a juicy secret.

“I have received word of a woman in the village that nobody has ever seen before. She walks around town always clad in a robe and with a hood pulled over her head. She barely speaks to anyone and when asked where she is from, she claims she is not from here. Doesn’t that spark your curiosity?”

A woman who insists on being cloaked and hidden… now that is intriguing indeed.

The young prince feels a grin growing across his face, one tainted with a dawning realization.

Could it be…?

“And you suggest I follow your lead to meet this woman?” Satoru rests his broad palm on her waist, his thumb gently stroking her hip. Miri grins smugly and, unconcerned with any onlookers, leans in to whisper in his ear. Her warm breath sends a shiver down his spine.

“If that woman happens to be our princess, it would be the best chance we have of ending her without arousing any suspicion.”

Satoru’s expression wavers with something akin to regret, though he hides it the second her sparkling green eyes meet his own hooded blue ones.

“Are you sure? You want me to end Cerena’s life?”

Miri is firm in her ambitions, giving him a curt nod.

“Is it not what you desire, too? Cerena’s demise? With her gone, we can finally be together, my love.”

She intertwines her fingers together with his, squeezing his hands fondly. “We can be free to love, to show each other affection, to openly court and to meet each other in broad daylight. Wouldn’t that be a delight to experience?”

The images she paints in his mind are irresistible, and Satoru quickly forgets his earlier hesitation, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close against his body.

“Oh, Miri,” he growls, desire lacing his tone as she responds with an adorable giggle. “My beautiful mastermind—you are right. We need to strike while the opportunity is ripe.”

Satoru’s hand glides down her body, gently caressing her backside.

“The moment I see Cerena, I will keep my word and end her life.”

mtt fun fact: satoru is partial to dressing in darker colors to bring out the contrast of his white hair. it's done partially for vain aesthetics but also because he loves how the stark visual contrast tends to strike fear in his enemies hearts

dawn says: dun dun DUN .... anyone wanna bet that yn will beat his ass if he tries her 😏

!! reblogs and feedback and asks about this series are so beloved and appreciated and will motivate me to update and write faster <3

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lovedrunkheadcanons · 1 year ago

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WARNINGS: Gojo Satoru x Female OC, tiny bit of smut, fingering, groping, Satoru being horny, fluff, cuteness, comfort, communication, established relationship, marriage, husband+wife, Maki defecting from the Zen'in family and being a badass.

SUMMARY: The timely story of how Zen'in Maki and Satoru's wife met.

Read on AO3

Prequel: Gojo Takes a Wife (also on AO3)

In life, a woman was instructed to follow three obediences; obedience to her father, her husband, and lastly, her son. Maki could recall from an early age when she and her sister were sat down and taught these obediences at their mother’s discretion. “They are to be your fate,” she would repeat. “A virtuous woman is subservient to all three. Without fail.”

Maki scoffed at the notion. Without fail. Even then she knew that to be a load of uncontrived, completely fabricated, bullshit. Why women viewed their own sex as inferior to men never made much sense to Maki. If anything, women were the smarter and level headed of the bunch. They didn’t muck around, drinking booze at inappropriate hours and chasing mini skirts all day. The privilege was free, but none less taken for granted.

Sometimes Maki thought the Zen’in blood was cursed. Her mother and father expected her to become a hallmark of good breeding. She bore the Zen’in name; one of the three Great Sorcerer Families; the bastion of the jujutsu world, holding great influence and power. But such powers were unattainable for women. And with no cursed technique, or cursed energy, Maki would either grow up to be an old maid, living at her male relatives every beck and call, or she’d be married off to some advantageous young suitor with the most money. She was to be a wife and mother. Those were her options.

Maki said no to all of it. She saw the shackled existence her mother had undergone and decided indentured servitude wasn’t for her. She would forge a different path. Her own path, not left to the discretion of pig-headed men like her uncle and chauvinistic cousins. The “failure of the Zen’in clan,” is what they called her, unable to see curses. Well, she’d prove each and every one of them wrong. She would become a great sorcerer, the leader of the Zen’in clan. By her own merit. Just you wait.

And so she departed with nothing but the clothes on her back, a few light items, and her pride, severing all familial ties, including that of her twin sister. Mai chose to stay behind. She chose them. So be it.

Now came the fallout. Maki was on her own for the first time in her fourteen years. With no money. No roof under her head. No game plan. No nothing.

Until she received an anonymous text on her phone (which she later learned was from Inumaki).

Seek Lady Gojo. There was also an address attached.

That’s it. That’s all it read.

Unsure who the sender was, she thought their advice somewhat aggravating. Maki hated asking for help and relations between the Zen’in and Gojo families were not exactly friendly. In fact, the two clans had been at war with each other, murdering and politicking, throughout various points in history. Maki had been told that a Gojo couldn’t be trusted. But then again, neither could a Zen’in.

The enemy of thy enemy was thy friend, so the saying went.

Following the home address on the text, Maki adjusted her glasses, boarded the nearest bus, and found herself waiting outside the Gojo family doorstep four hours later. It was a beautiful home, an old samurai house by the looks of it. Different from the pretentious Osaka style mansion the Zen'in’s dwelled under. Noble without being too overbearing, though it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. All sorcerer families' houses were large and impressive.

Taking a breath, she knocked on the entrance.

A housekeeper wearing a solid navy komon soon answered, introducing herself as Makoto. She bowed cordially with a contented smile and quickly ushered Maki inside, taking the few belongings she kept in a rucksack. The defected Zen’in was given time to take off her shoes and then escorted through the many mulberry-paneled chambers and hallways to a traditional tearoom boarded with ochre colored walls. Plum trees, their white petals falling from their branches, were painted all around them. Maki knelt on the tatami before a small table. A bouquet of dark red roses, freshly cut, added a flash of color to the ochre and plum blossoms. They were vased within a tokonoma, emitting a pleasant scent, calming her nerves. Not that she was nervous.

“My mistress will be with you shortly,” the housekeeper announced. “Shall I fetch you anything? Some refreshment, perhaps, or some sweets?”

“No thank you,” Maki said.

“Very well.” The housekeeper bowed once more and went about her daily business, sliding the fusuma doors behind her.

To be honest, she didn’t know what to expect of this Lady Gojo. She had never seen or met her in person before. Being too young, Maki wasn’t allowed to attend official meetings and ceremonies. Although she knew Gojo Satoru hadn’t been married for very long, but why would his wife want to help?

Maki bit her lower lip. She absolutely loathed this.

A few minutes later, the doors parted and in came an elegantly dressed woman wearing kimono embroidered with red and purple irises. She was more petite than Maki imagined, delicate and serene, her shiny auburn hair crowned in layers of braids. Maki saw the light dusting of freckles around her pale complexion and hazel colored eyes, features practically unheard of in Japan. Lady Gojo was foreign. European by the looks of it, though she wasn’t sure where. Maki found herself weirdly conscientious of her plain white kosode and worn out hakama. They were the only clothes she had at the moment.

“A thousand apologies for being so late,” Lady Gojo began, smile radiant. Her voice held a light, ringing sound to it like crystal bowls. “I had just finished weeding and didn’t want to come in looking a mess.” There was no accent when she spoke either, as though the woman had lived in Japan her whole life. She briskly walked over to Maki and knelt down at the opposite side of the table, smoothing the fabric of her kimono. “I’m Gojo Hannah, co-tenet of the estate. My housekeeper says you wish to see me?”

Maki kept things discreet. She told of the hardship she faced growing up in a hostile family, her lack of cursed energy, storming out of the Zen’in house, which led to the separation of her sister. Hannah did not interrupt, nodding and listening to her life story attentively.

“So you have nowhere else to go?”

“No,” Maki said. “My plan was to take a train to Tokyo and find a capsule hotel somewh — ”

“That won’t be necessary,” Hannah quickly interrupted, raising her hand. “You’ll be staying here until we can get you properly sorted.”

Maki paused, as though she hadn’t heard the woman correctly. She blinked once. Blinked twice.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Please, I insist.”

“I’d hate to intrude.”

Lady Gojo shook her head. “Intruding would imply you were staying uninvited, which, as of now, is not the case. Plus, you are only fourteen, Maki. It would be highly irresponsible to let a minor out on their own without adult supervision. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened. You came here asking for help,” she smiled warmly, “Let help be given.”

Maki was still skeptic of the offer. Help was rare to come by in the jujutsu world. It was either eat, or be eaten, and the last thing she wanted was to become some random lady’s charity case.

“What would your husband say?”

Hannah waved her off like it was no trouble. “Oh, you let me handle him. He’s away right now, but I’m sure he’ll understand once he gets back.” She then lifted a small, hand-held bell near the legs of the table, shaking it daintily three times. Not two minutes later, the housekeeper from earlier appeared bowing gratuitously to her mistress.

“You rang for me, ma’am?”

“Makoto-san,” Hannah smiled, gesturing to the Zen’in girl. “Maki will be staying with us tonight as our honored guest. Would you see about preparing her a room and a warm bath?”

“Will the Mokuren Room do, ma’am?”

Her ladyship nodded. “Yes, the Mokuren Room will do splendidly. Thank you.” She quickly rose from the floor and turned to Maki. “I hate to dash out, but I have somewhere to be. Makoto-san will see to it that you are comfortable. Dinner will be ready at six, so just listen for the gong,” she switched from Japanese to English, “Goodbye now.”

Lady Gojo exited out the ochre walled tearoom, kimono swishing silkily down the hallway as she headed for her next destination. She left in such a hurry, Maki never got to say thank you. Once more the housekeeper, Makoto, guided her through the many rooms and corridors of the samurai house till they entered a suite panoramaed in magnolias and gold leaf. Maki saw that her rucksack sat against the wall next to a flush futon. “Your bath will be ready shortly,” Makoto said cheerfully and pointed to a stack of clothes folded in the corner. “The mistress has also provided you with some clean clothes.” Maki nodded in thanks and waited for the housekeeper to leave before letting her guard down.

She could rest easy for a while.

Satoru returned home that night after supper, a day earlier than originally planned. Hannah wasted little time relaying to him what had happened. It was 11 o’clock. They were just about to retire for bed.

“Did her sister tag along, by chance?”

Hannah watched her husband lean against the wall, taking in the full moon shining above the mountain tops and Japanese pines. They had switched to sleeping in her room for the night and had opened one side of panels to let the summer breeze flow in. Hannah was content admiring him there, relaxed in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, arms crossed, hair drying from a hot shower. She liked it when the moonlight reflected off his muscles and sculpted chest. He had such good skin.

“I don’t believe so,” she answered with a weary sigh and came to join him overlooking the moon and pines. “You’re not mad about this are you? I promise she won’t stay long. Just until we can guarantee her safety.”

Satoru draped a bare arm over his wife. “No, I’m not mad. You did the right thing. Naobito is a drunken fool. Letting her go was a big mistake.”

“Really, how come?”

“I’ve seen the way she fights. It’s only a hunch, but I think the reason Maki has low cursed energy is because she possesses Heavenly Restriction, a practically unheard of cursed ability that exchanges low cursed energy for physical strength.”

Hannah blinked. “That’s…rather remarkable. I didn’t know such a thing existed. Are you sure that’s what she has?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Satoru said darkly. He lifted a finger over his forehead as though feeling for a scar, an old inflicted wound that had long since healed. “Trust me.”

Hannah didn’t know what to make of it, only that the situation made her angry. “And they just let her go off alone? A fourteen year old girl from an important family? What if she had been abducted by some mad lunatic, or assassinated for ransom?”

Satoru clicked his tongue, holding back his contempt. “I told you, the Zen’in’s aren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the shed. Still, to think they couldn’t see the obvious staring them blue in the face. Kind of fucked up when you think about it.”

Hannah’s anger cooled into sadness, leaning more on her husband for support. She breathed in the smell of his body wash and kissed the skin. “I feel for her. Part of me knows what she’s going through; forced to abandon everything you’ve ever known in the wake of an uncertain future.

“Eh, I dunno.” Her husband winked with a knowing smirk. “Seemed to have worked out well for you.”

“No.” Hannah giggled and hugged his torso, resting her chin on his bare chest so she could stare up into his heavenly blue eyes. “Worked out well for us,” she corrected.

“Ha, yes, silly me,” he chuckled, rolling his eyes, “For us,” and lovingly caressed her face in both hands to bend down and bring his lips gently to hers. “Speaking of which,” he added huskily, breaking away. Hannah caught the mischievous glint in his eyes, the kind he gave when he was about to do something naughty. She watched him walk over and, one by one, slid the wall panels shut, closing them off from the outside world. The drop in his voice made her heart skip. “Turn around.”

Hannah was wearing one of his black cotton tees. It was way too large for her, closely resembling that of a nightgown. All she had underneath was a skimpy pair of lace panties.

Just how he liked it.

Obediently, Hannah turned around. A cold shiver ran down her spine as his heated mouth began trailing supplicant, little kisses along her collarbone, shifting the shirt to one side to expose more of her freckled skin, minus the gold chain hanging there. Her nipples went hard from the budding anticipation and like a magic trick, Satoru's hand reached down and disappeared underneath his borrowed shirt. A gasp of pleasure left Hannah’s lips as he took his sweet, sweet time kneading her breasts, rimming the tender nipples with calloused thumbs in slow, circular motions. Her knees buckled.

Ever the multitasker, Satoru commenced to fondling one breast, while his newly empty hand wandered farther south, past the middle of her navel, her hips, brushing back the tawny bed of curls. Then he heard Hannah whimper, arching for him like a nimble cat, when he slipped two long fingers inside her panties, teasing the aroused flesh throbbing between her thighs, plunging them smoothly in and out, in and out.

She responded beautifully, rutting against him, crying out his name as she pressed the back of her head to his chest, begging for more. Satoru chuckled at how erotic she looked for him now, feeling his sweatpants gradually become two sizes too small, knowing he was about to get laid as he ravished his wife’s neck and shoulders in sloppy-tongued kisses, enjoying the full weight of her titties, and his wetted fingers curling and smarting inside her pussy. Man, it felt good to be home.

Really, really good.

Next morning, Maki knelt at the Gojo’s breakfast table, filled with enough food to feed a small army, like she were sitting at an all-you-can-eat buffet and not someone’s home. Makoto started them off with miso soup, sticky rice, steamed vegetables, then introduced saba no shioyaki, salted grilled salmon, and savory Japanese omelet rolls called dashimaki tamago. At the risk of losing her “feminine” physique, Maki hadn’t been allowed to indulge in these foods, but apparently diet restrictions weren’t a concern here. Makoto’s cooking could give the cooks at the Zen’in house a run for their money. Frankly, it was the best meal she ever had.

“Please eat as much as you like,” Hannah encouraged.

Maki intended to, but her meal was cut short when she glanced up from her plate to see possibly the most strikingly handsome dude walk through the door.

She sucked in a breath.

He was quite tall, well above 180 centimeters, and strongly built without appearing too muscular, and shockingly young. His youthful eyes were a penetrating cerulean, the kind that could peer directly into a soul and uncover all its sins, so bright and blue they looked almost artificial like the glow of a neon sign. Were these the fabled Six Eyes everyone talked about, she wondered? The world’s strongest sorcerer was standing before her.

She watched him run a hand over his shaggy hair, white as snow, and yawn widely.

“Ah, there you are,” Hannah greeted happily. “Good morning.”

The Six Eyes landed on the wife, twinkling like two blue stars. A smirk stretched its way up the corners of the handsome man’s mouth. “Good morning,” he rumbled suavely, voice deepened from sleep, bending all the way down to tilt his wife’s chin up for his normal, pre-breakfast kiss.

It held for four seconds. Five seconds. Six. Seven?

Maki’s cheeks unexpectedly grew warm and she felt the need to look away, embarrassed, stuffing as much rice in her mouth as she possibly could. It’s like she wasn’t even there. Showing public affection in front of a house guest was not typical behavior for sorcerer families, or really any Japanese family. Even hugs were a rarity amongst close friends. Maki’s own parents never kissed, held hands, or took turns stealing amorous glances from across dinner tables. Marriage was strictly a duty required to produce offspring. And that’s when it occurred to her.

This was what a loving marriage looked like. These two people loved each other. Possibly even liked each other. It was so bazaar to see it play outside of a romance novel or movie screen.

Satoru slowly broke from the kiss, licking his lips. “Mmm, mangos. Very nice.” He was referring to the fruit his wife was in the middle of eating. Hannah’s own cheeks blushed a rosy pink as she playfully swatted him away.

“You’re horrible,” she admonished, though her small smile told Maki she wasn’t really all that upset.

He laughed, the least apologetic for the gross amount of PDA, and knelt beside the table to pour himself a fresh cup of coffee. Maki froze when those glacial blue eyes raised and fixed themselves upon her, curiously looking up and down. She swallowed her food, keeping quiet. They both stared at each other wordlessly.

Wanting to address the elephant in the room, Hannah put down her eating utensils and cleared her throat. “Maki, this here is my husband, Gojo Satoru,” she turned to her husband, “Satoru, this is our guest, Zen’in Maki.”

The Gojo leader gave a mock salute.

“Yo. Hannah tells me you’ve found yourself in a bit of a pickle,” he placed his coffee on the coaster and frowned, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

A pickle. Was this dude a moron? What clan leader talked that casually in front of guests? A part of her wondered if it was some kind of test.

“Yeah,” she replied, deciding on honesty rather than politeness because she had lost the strength to care. “My family are a bunch of assholes.”

“Assholes?” Satoru snickered and nudged his wife with his elbow. “Hey, this one’s feisty. I like her.”

Hannah rolled her eyes at her husband's antics. “Satoru and I were busy talking last night,” she said. Maki noticed Satoru snort into his coffee mug to mask a laugh. “And we think we may have a solution to the problem — that is, if you’re interested. We wouldn’t want to pressure you into anything, but I remember you mentioning yesterday how the Zen’in’s traditionally attend the Kyoto Technical College. Is that correct?”

Maki’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Well, that’s just the thing,” Hannah said. “Instead of attending the Kyoto school, how would you feel about attending the Tokyo branch next year?”

Now Maki was on red alert. No way were they seriously asking her this without wanting something in return. “What’s the catch?” But Hannah shook her head.

“There is no catch. You would live in the Tokyo dorms for the next few months, and begin your freshman year in April like all the others. The school would cover any boarding expenses you may accumulate, including food and training facility access.”

A tempting offer, but Maki was still unsure. “I haven’t finished eighth grade,” she said.

“East Takao Elementary isn’t far from here and summer break hasn’t ended. We would enroll you there for your last semester. You might not make many friends, but you’d at least be able to graduate on time.”

Maki mentally scoffed. It was a sweet sentiment, but she didn’t need friends. Friends were liabilities there to hold you down, although she was curious. “Why would you want me to attend if I can’t even see curses?”

Satoru thought this was his moment to intervene. He had been listening to Hannah explain, lightly rapping his knuckles on the table, pretending to be bored, but felt the question needed to be said.

“You want to be a sorcerer, don’t you?”

Maki held the Six Eyes wielder’s imposing gaze, and her mind instantly went back to her sister. The promise she made so many years ago, that she would stay by her side forever. Her heart panged with resentment and perhaps guilt.

“More than anything.”

“Then that’s it,” Satoru said. “There doesn’t have to be another reason. Don’t listen to the crap your family has told you. What you’re born with, or without, doesn’t matter one iota. Hard work and perseverance will always be better indicators of success than ‘natural born talent’ and ‘giftedness.” It all depends on how desperate you are to want it.”

Hannah rested the cup of tea she was drinking in her lap. “The choice is yours, Maki. Whatever you decide, you’ll receive no judgment from us.”

Judgment, Maki thought. The operative word. She had been nothing but judged from the second she was born, whether it was her sex; Her un-lady-like behavior; Her lack of cursed energy. It was never enough to quell the critics regardless of what she did. “The failure,” they called her. Well no more. The page had turned. A new chapter in her life had begun and she would fight tooth and nail to stick around and beat the odds.

“I’ll do it,” she said proudly. “I’ll attend Jujutsu High.”

The Six Eyes wielder threw up his hands and turned to face his wife, looking a tad smug. “See? What I’d tell ya?”

“Yes, you were right,” Hannah relented, sighing at her husband’s giddiness. He wore a big cheddar grin as he crossed his arms in triumph, singing “ ~ I was right, I was right. My wife was wrong, but I was right. Ha-haha-haha-ha ~ ”

Hannah rolled her eyes once more. “Ignore him,” she whispered, leaning in Maki’s ear.

The defected Zen’in looked down at her untouched bowl of miso soup, husband and wife inadvertently flirting with each other in the background.

A new chapter.

Maybe asking for help every once in a while wasn’t the worst idea imaginable.

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siriuslysatorusimping · 1 year ago

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*Preview* Let's Get Lost (upcoming 'Another Level' installment)

POSTED: Let's Get Lost

“Think real hard before you-”

“Decide to be a brat?” she taunted, watching his eyes darken slightly. “Get a new line, Gojo-”

His fingers were digging into Rinko's sides immediately, pulling a yelp from her throat as she giggled and tried to escape. Pressing her back down against her couch, he straddled her; squeezing her hips with his knees and taking her wrists in his left hand, effectively immobilizing her against his assault. Poking and prodding at her ribs and sides, he grinned with each new discovery of an area that made her release breathless laughs.

She squealed when he leaned down, biting the spot on her neck he knew always made her squirm.

“Was gonna say before you speak,” he murmured, licking the spot to soothe the bite. “But you always do. You think real hard, and you always choose the option that’ll get you fucking spanked.”

---

Read Another Level on AO3 now :)

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sivame12 · 11 months ago

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru Characters: Getou Suguru, Gojo Satoru, Ieiri Shoko Additional Tags: Married Couple, Married Life, Married Sex, Temporary Erectile Dysfunction, Bottom Getou Suguru, my pathetic attempt at a little comedy, Trying something new, addressing actual problems ig?, Top Gojo Satoru, Soft Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru Has a Big Dick, Soft Getou Suguru Summary:

A cup of stress a teaspoon of miscommunication and a pinch of erectile dysfunction – one of the many recipes to cook a misunderstanding.

#satosugu #goge #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu geto #married life #smut #wholesome

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muddiedlove · 2 years ago

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merry, mistletoe, & murder

toji, gojo, geto…

lmk what y’all think, i’m tryna see sum 👀

#thought of a xmas f marry kill 😙#looking for moots #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu toji #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu geto #gojo smut #gojo satoru #geto suguru #toji fushiguro

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fushitoru · 6 days ago

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seperation anxiety! a (clan head) gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ clan head!gojo x wife!reader

summary ⸺ satoru begs you to attend a meeting with the higher-ups, but not for the reasons you thought. inspired by this art by @/baobei-bu!

warnings ⸺ SMUT, gojo is a warning by himself, VERY public sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, no penetration, fingering, fondling, making out, panty-ripping, exhibitionism, kinda cucking but the only ppl humiliated and humbled are the higher ups, porn no plot, but plot if you squint, reader is a strong independent woman (until gojo charms her, bc who wouldn't turn into a cockslut for gojo?), this took me at least five hours to write for no good reason?, not edited (like always....)

a/n pls enjoy and thank u to the queen for making such delicious art (p.s. go to their twitter for nsfw ver i squirted)

general masterlist

“Pleaseeeee,” Satoru has his face buried in your chest, nuzzling in further while complaining. It’s almost comical how he—head of the biggest clan in Jujutsu—is leaning down to match your height. You, meanwhile, stand firm, arms crossed, regarding him with a mix of exasperation and reluctant affection as he leans down to meet your gaze. “Will you come with me?”

The question comes as the dreaded meeting with the higher-ups looms, a gathering he's been dodging all day. It technically began ten minutes ago, and you barely managed to wrangle him into his formal kimono just twenty minutes earlier. You sigh, fingers brushing his hair. “Satoru, you know what they think of me. I'm not exactly their favorite person.” You’re both standing in the middle of your shared bedroom, you imploring him to be on time for his meeting to avoid getting even further shit from the higher-ups.

Mind you, you’re the more rational one between you and Satoru—in fact, most of the people who know you would agree that you’re a very mature, wise person in general (with the exception of some circumstances, of course). And despite the respect your skill commands, the higher-ups have never warmed to you, not since you refused to play a pawn in their games. Marrying Satoru, the one jujutsu sorcerer they could never control, only amplified their discontent. They see you both as threats—powerful sorcerers bonded in defiance.

At the mention of "higher-ups," Satoru's pout deepens, and his pleading voice grows more insistent. “Pleeeease,” he drags out, practically whining. “I have separation anxiety.”

You feel a pang of sympathy. These meetings are miserable for him—hours trapped in a room with men twice his age, trying to dictate his every move. “I don’t know, Satoru…” you murmur, hesitating.

But Satoru takes advantage of your softening resolve, hugging you tighter, his face pressing into you again. “Don’t make me go in there alone!” he says, his voice muffled. “You have no idea how much you silence them. One word from you, and they all think twice. I’m already one step away from wanting to kill them all.”

A sigh escapes you as you realize he’s not letting up. And while you’re reluctant, you know that your presence, your opinion—one of the few he truly values—might actually give him a sense of calm in that harsh room. “Alright, alright,” you concede finally, hand smoothing the fabric of his sleeve. "But no making a scene."

His answering smirk is smug, giving you a fat, sloppy kiss on your cheek that you’re not afraid to show your partial-disgust about. You all but have to wrestle him off of you white he’s smothering you in kisses, getting out something about how much loves you, oh so thankful to have such a wise wifey like you as you get ready in a kimono similar to his and head to the limo waiting outside of the manor you and Gojo reside in.

As soon as you get in, Gojo turns sharply to Ijichi, who’s shifting the gear. “Put the divider up.”

“O-Okay, Gojo-san.” A little intimidated by the commanding tone in your husband’s voice, he quickly presses the button to activate the screen, and Gojo pounces on you, grabbing you and hoisting you up by your sides to put you on his lap.

“Satoru!” you exclaim, surprised as he captures his lips with yours. His hands roam your body as he moans, almost obnoxiously, because he knows you’re always paranoid whenever he initiates anything in public. Your crotch aligns with his thigh, big and stuffed with muscle as he drives your hips to grind on him, and despite yourself and your circumstances, you find yourself leaning into his touch.

“My pretty wife,” he purrs, now trailing kisses down your jaw and into your neck. “So pretty, so supportive.”

Despite his dizzying movements, you try to get a hold of yourself. “Satoru, we shouldn’t be doing this here. We need to discuss what to sa—”

“Fuck that,” he sighs, so breathless that you want to cave in.

“No, but—”

His eyes darken, and his hands start creeping up your legs, going slowly and slowly closer to your pussy. “Baby, you know I value what you have to say,” and his fingers graze your folds, making you leak even more with his teasing, “but I wanna listen to something else.”

He drags his index finger up and down your slit, making you whimper. His fingers then prod into your hole, putting pressure there but not quite delving in. “Satoru,” you whine out, clutching his upper arms as he has his way while toying with you.

“Yea, that’s what I wanna hear,” he groans, giving you a kiss. It is then that he rewards you with inserting his digit in, curling to hit your spot as he fingers you. HIs other arm is around you, holding your panties’ crotch to the side to allow him to touch you. “My good girl.”

As he’s touching you, the squelching sounds fills the enclosure you’re in and you’re desperately praying to God Ijichi can’t hear the lewd things the both of you are doing in the back. You’re just reduced to whimpering, unable to reject Satoru’s dizzying touches, his free hand leaving your panties to grope at your inner thighs, ass, and breasts. It’s like he’s devouring you with his kisses, urgent, as he continues curling his fingers.

Between kisses, you try to get out a “Satoru—mmph,” smooch, “we shouldn’t be—mm” smooch, “shouldn’t be doing this here!”

“What,” he drawls, and with the glint in his eyes you know the fucker’s trying to toy with you, knows what he’s doing is mischievous. “I can’t touch my wife?”

Before you could utter a response, however, the limo suddenly slows, and the sensation of using the brakes to stop the car makes you sober up. “We’re here, Satoru we need to go—-” As you’re trying to rip yourself off his lap, he pulls out the finger that was inside you and uses his hand instead to entangle it with the crotch of your panties, pulling and pulling until the cloth is nothing but shreds, falling off your body.

Oh my god, you were not paid enough for this shit.

With his oh-so-irritating eyes—the same ones that you spent despising in your early school years—he looks at you through his pretty white lashes as he makes a show of sniffing the now tattered shreds that were your panties and putting them in his pocket. Under your kimono, you can feel your slick escaping your panties as the cool air wafts through it, landing on your pussy. You look at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

He giggles, giving you a kiss on the cheek while helping you off his lap, putting a hand on your head to make sure you didn’t bump your head against the car’s ceiling. “Let’s go and deal with those hags, my love.”

To be honest, you don’t really understand why Satoru is so handsy today. He’s on some sort of man-ovulation, you think, as you stride into the room. Even ripping off your panties was a bit excessive, if not out of pocket (no pun intended). Breaking out of your thoughts, you grounded yourself in the present, noticing hostile eyes turned towards your husband, and then you. You match their barely-subtle glares with a stink eye of your own, holding your chin up as you walk past them dismissively. Just as you’re about to take a seat next to Gojo—being mindful of your kimono so you don’t flash any of these old bastards—one of them speaks up.

“Gojo-sama, why is this woman here?”

You continue to take your seat, noticing Satoru’s jaw clenched. But right as he’s about to say something, you cut in for him. “This woman,” and you smile, deceptively sweet, “is the lady of the clan. It would do you well to remember the hierarchy of the Gojo clan.” You don’t need to turn to look at your husband to know he has a proud smile on his face, making no effort to hide his smugness. What shocks you instead is that he swings an arm around you, effectively dragging you closer to him until you’re basically sitting on his lap, and his hands go to roam your sides.

Now, some old grandpa starts talking, commencing the meeting, on their usual bullshit of the need for extermination of Sukuna’s vessel, but Satoru pays them no mind. Instead, what they receive in response is non-committal hums as his hands drag themselves up your stomach and down where your legs are crossed to the hem of your kimono, and then under.

Any semblance of paying attention to the meeting and responding to their infuriating beliefs leaves your mind as you blank out, panicking that Satoru is trying to commit public indecency with you. As an argument erupts between the higher ups about something, you turn to Gojo to furiously whisper, “What is wrong with you today?! Cut it out.”

In your life, you’ve fought many curses, first grade and even special grade included as you climbed up the ranks of Jujutsu sorcery despite having a non-sorcerer upbringing. What you will never be able to defeat, however, is your husband’s charm. Satoru knows what he’s doing as he lets out a deep moan in your ear, making you squeak and become even more flustered, as he continues to make lewd noises, puffs of his breath fanning across your neck.

a/n gojo the type to start moaning randomly to make you fold #sorrynotsorry

The indecency of all of it—-Gojo basically whimpering in your ear sweet nothings like good girl, that’s my wife, gonna let me finger you in front of all these ugly hags, right?—-being loud in your ear but also just quiet enough that you’d only hear made you so wet, heat throbbing between your thighs as Satoru’s hands start rubbing your fold. It’s a teasing touch, one not enough to satisfy you but to stimulate you nonetheless.

It’s just when his index finger starts slowly circling around your clit that you buck your hips slightly, making him look at you teasingly, peering down at you from above your shoulder. “Oh you liked that, didn’t you?”

“I hate you,” you puff out, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck as Satoru’s circles on your clit get more tangibly, simulating you oh so deliciously. To make sure you hold yourself up, you set your elbows down on the table, Satoru’s arms engulfing you as you’re forced to take whatever touches he’s giving you under the table.

“She’s so loud,” he whispers, pointing out the noises your pussy was making as his digits roved over your folds. The squelches were tangibly there, audible to anyone who would strain their ears. You could tell your lack of response to the meeting was catching attention, because there were several eyes towards you, waiting for something; it was then you realized that they had posed a question but were simply too fucked out to respond.

A voice comes out to reprimand your husband sharply. “Gojo-sama, this is hardly appropriate.”

Satoru chuckles, not stopping his ministrations as he picks up a cup filled with water, his smug gaze still turned towards you while observing and appreciating your every hiccup and reaction. “Can’t my spouse attend this meeting? I value her opinion above everyone else’s in this room, after all,” he drawls, lodging his chin in the curve of your neck. “Besides,” and he flashes a dangerous grin to the man who spoke out, “weren’t you the ones who were oh so worried about me not having an heir?”

At this point, you’ve filtered out all noises, focusing and honing in on the sensation of your orgasm coming. His digits are playful, curling up to hit your g-spot repeatedly, his palm tickling your clit. Each time he hits your spongy spot a bout of electricity runs up your body, pulling you closer and closer to your orgasm.

“But guess what,” and he gives you a kiss on the cheek, despite the aversion the rest of the higher ups have to any displays of affection, “we can solve that problem right here, right now.” He punctuates it with a harsh sink of his fingers into your plush cunt, and, with that, you finally cream his fingers, a result of Satoru teasing you all day now. You try to temper the shakes wracking your body by slamming your fist against the table, trying not to moan out.

It seems that no one’s seen you riding out your orgasm out so visible, because there are gasps around the room at how obscene Gojo’s suggestion was. “It is shameful of you to be saying such things, Gojo-sama!” one of them sputters out, red with anger and outrage.

Your husband not so subtly rolls his eyes. “Then don’t bring it up all the time, old man.” Satoru knows how touchy and vulnerable you are right after you cum, so he’s running his hands softly up and down your thighs to quell your quivers affectionately. “Actually, what about this? You all haven’t witnessed us consummate our marriage, correct?” He smirks. “What about witnessing the heir-making next time?”

general masterlist

a/n pls see the vision like i want gojo to claim me and rail me into next tuesday while the higher ups just watch uncomfortably like maybe i am a freak like that. like gojo would be so obsessed with how he's claiming you in front of the fuckers that piss him off so much...might do a part two if pookiesa like this :P

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots :3

#divider by cafekitsune #aashi writes #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru

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