#gojou x you

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER NINETEEN

A WEDDING UNDER PURPLE SKY

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Words count: ~13k

⊲ previous

[March 27, 2023, 3:03pm; Tokyo, Tokyo Prefecture, K Wedding Salon]

When Danielle had first relied on her independence, it had led to tragedy and a couple of broken hearts. Now a string of questions and problems demanded that she make immediate decisions, and though none of them posed a death threat, panic was setting in. Dany couldn't even decide on the date of her own wedding, so much so that she was losing it at the thought of having to stand on the pedestal of responsibility for her actions.

Seating, menu planning, venue design - she hadn't lost her mind just because you were there for her. The girl tried hard not to show it, and certainly not to convey her anxiety to her fiancé - the emotions chained inside were boiling and churning, pushing Dany closer and closer to the precipice of despair. Panic clouded her own desires - she couldn't understand or even mentally visualize the white dress she'd dreamed of. And had she dreamed of it at all?

Danielle stood in front of the mirror, unsure of herself, nervously clutching the folds of the snow-white skirt. "Well, spin," Rachel mumbled tiredly, twirling her finger in the air. She sat sprawled in the chair, crossing his legs - the coffee on the low table in front of her had long since gone cold.

Danielle's lips tightened anxiously as she slowly turned around, showing you the dress in all its glory. The way she sank into the skirt and the way the corset squeezed her breasts made you and your sister look at each other. You shook your heads embarrassed, almost invisibly, realizing that the dress made the girl look twice as big. "By the way, that shit right there," Rachel, looking through her fingers, nodded at the wide tulle lantern sleeves. "Was in vogue in the nineteenth century."

Even the tight corset on Danielle's chest couldn't suppress the sob that fell from her lips. When she started to shudder, you thought for a moment that the lacing on her back was going to burst, but you didn't even have time to get out of your chair - the girl grabbed hem of the dress and ran out of the fitting room, almost falling. "Since when do ya know about fashion?" you mumbled sarcastically. "Did ya really have to say that?" you sighed, standing up.

"Why?" asked Rachel, arched her eyebrows. "The dress really is awful."

You waved your sister away and walked out of the fitting room into the hall. You saw Dany right away, and she didn't even seem to be trying to hide - the bride was sitting on a coffee table, crying with her hands over her face, and only the consultant was standing next to her, stroking her back and saying something. As you approached them, you quietly snapped your fingers, drawing attention - as soon as the consultant looked at you, you nodded over your shoulder, signaling that Danielle should be left alone. The girl immediately pulled away from the bride and hurried away, the only sounds in the hall were bitter sobs and the clatter of heels on the floor..

Danielle, barely keeping her balance, hovered over the teeming unknown abyss - you realized this as you carefully stepped closer to her. "Come up here," you commanded softly, putting your arm around her shoulders. Danielle immediately gave in - she unhooked her hands from her face and stood up from the table. Her cheeks were full of a sad blush that mingled with black smeared mascara. You, leading her over to the mirror and placing her across from it, went behind her back and began unlacing her corset. "It's not about the dress, is it?" you asked unobtrusively, releasing the girl from the stranglehold.

Danielle shook her head weakly and sniffed her nose - every time you pulled the laces, the girl twitched. "Aren't ya disappointed in me?" she asked weakly but unexpectedly. Looking at herself in the mirror, her heart cut and stabbed at the dreams and expectations left behind - this was not how Danielle saw herself. Why was she wearing white and not black? Why was it a dress and not a uniform with belts and a respirator? Weren't you angry that all the years spent training her had just gone to waste? What would her father say if he saw her like that? Danielle almost cried again, remembering how she'd dreamed of avenging him - was it the white veil that had made her back down?

"What do ya see?" you inquired. Danielle, looking at you in the mirror, saw you nod at her reflection.

"Misery," the word flew from her lips unintentionally. It was not enough to get rid of the corset - the girl was choked by the hands of grief of unfulfilled hopes. "I wanted to be a voidrunner, and now I'm gonna be just a wife," Dany grimaced in despair, almost spitting out the last words.

"Should we tell Megumi ya changed your mind then?" you shrugged, trying to provoke the girl and get the real truth out of her that was pulling her down.

"No!" she raged, tearing off the unwanted dress - now, standing in the middle of the snow-white fabric in just her underwear, Danielle felt vulnerable.

Taking her by the shoulders, you rested your chin on her fragile shoulder - the girl tried to shield herself from you, hugging herself and covering her breasts. "What are you hiding there?" you laughed softly. "Who do ya think bathed ya while your parents were out on missions?" the girl only became more embarrassed and lowered her gaze to the floor, but you stubbornly took her by the chin and lifted her head so she could continue to look at herself in the mirror. "And I see a beautiful girl, alive and real," you said, tucking her golden curl behind her ear, exposing her face.

The corners of her lips twitched faintly at the thought of Megumi - Danielle ran her fingers over the watch on her hand, gently looking at it. She wondered if Fushiguro was experiencing it the same way she was. Did he envision her in her dress, walking down the aisle? Would he cry when she threw back the white veil and spoke the innermost words of consent? "I just... I didn't see myself like this," she whispered shyly, shifting from foot to foot. "And I think the others wanted to see me different too," her quiet words sounded like a confession. 

"It doesn't matter what others wanted from ya," you said, putting your arm around her waist. "Ya can be strong, independent, ya can be a hunter, ya can be a loving wife to a loving husband - none of that defines your accomplishments, and ya don't have to think about others. Don't care about their praise or their disappointment. The most important thing is to live a life in which ya happy, and whatever makes ya happy is already right by default. Within the law, of course," you added, frowning, and Dany chuckled - she knew that was a rule you sometimes didn't follow. "Let's have coffee now and try on another dress," you encouraged her.

The consultant, like a guardian angel, was immediately at your side and handed Danielle's silk robe - she embarrassedly slipped it over her bare shoulders and stepped aside, tightening the belt. When the consultant saw the crumpled dress on the floor, her look became not at all angelic. "I'll pay for it," you grinned carelessly, shrugging guiltily.

[May 23, 2023, 5:31pm; Hopetown]

A true hunter should have a weapon under their belt at all times. You stood in the blue dress, feeling naked and vulnerable, and though your dagger was always on guard, you could feel the anxiety steaming inside, its red embers smoldering and scattering, making you taste the ash in your mouth.

Absolutely everyone in the city was agitated and disheveled - some were worried about their appearance, some had forgotten which seat and at which table they were assigned, and some had lost their favorite cufflinks. All the disgruntled, happy and worried cries rang out, making you squint - every voice seemed like a bell ringing. You glared at the bride's bouquet, but the puzzle didn't fit in your head. Everything seemed out of place - even the butterfly pins, which wings broke when you pinned your hair behind your ears, proved it. "Don't ya think the roses are a little out of place here?" you asked absently, carefully placing the bouquet on the table.

"Ya nuts?" slurred Rachel, a hairbrush clenched in her teeth as her hands worked on Danielle's head. You looked again at the bouquet, which consisted only of white roses.

You sighed excitedly, flicking back the strands of hair falling over your face irritably. "What about our dresses?" you worried, spreading your hands. When Rachel raised an eyebrow defiantly, you quieted down a little, but still continued to press on. "We're bridesmaids, shouldn't it be the same color and style?"

"Then wear the red one," Rachel barked, letting you know to get away from her tight dress - she'd spent at least a month looking for it, pestered and harassed the consultants at every store she'd visited, all just to get a dress that looked like the ones she used to wear on dates. "Look, maybe ya're against this wedding altogether?" she asked grudgingly, styling Dany's hair into a high, voluminous bun.

Danielle gave a worried, almost battered look. The girl sat obediently, almost ready to turn the lonely page of life, and the dress that hugged her body looked marvelous - no tulle, only pure snow-white satin that flowed freely to her feet, and only the corset shouted quietly, showing its lace and attracting attention. Her bare shoulders looked as fragile as porcelain, but Dany tried to keep her head high, so as not to show her own weakness and insecurity - the thin neck was kissed by the tiny pearls of a modest necklace, giving the girl courage. "No, not at all," you said with a gasp, trying to dispel Danielle's unspoken concerns - she looked so beautiful that you didn't want to tarnish her image with a single tear.

Once again, a small hurricane swept past you. "Mike!" Rachel yelled, trying to calm her son, who was running around the room with Tris, inadvertently grabbing everything in his path. The son looked angrily at his mother, pouted his lips, but obediently sat down on the floor. Tris, realizing that no one else was catching up to her, began to sway and twirl from side to side - you couldn't get angry or lecture her on behavior, for they were just kids with an endless supply of energy who were deliberately locked in a room with boring adults. "Maybe I should put the front strands in a bun too...?" mumbled Rachel uncertainly, trying on Dany's hair.

"Ya sure corset fits me well?" asked Dany embarrassedly, fussily pulling up her bust.

"No, I don't think so," you answered honestly to your sister, admiring Danielle. As you came closer, you squatted down in front of her and gently fixed a curl that had fallen into her face. "Ya look amazing," you admitted in a surprisingly shaky voice.

"Don't," the girl shook her head desperately, realizing the point and the stupidity of her question. "If ya say another word, I'll cry. And I can't cry right now. I will ruin my makeup," she squeaked in a broken voice, rubbing the folds of her dress. With a forceful sniffle, Danielle ordered the tears to retreat.

"Hey, that's mine!" resentfully exclaimed Mike behind your backs, and once again there was mayhem.

Tris was running around the room with a small rose in her hand - she had just snatched it from Mike's chest pocket. You didn't even have time to stop the kids - the little girl, laughing at the top of her voice, was running circles around the room, jumping up on the bed, then jumping on the floor, sometimes glancing at her pursuer. At one point she didn't see what was in front of her and crashed right into the desk - Tris fell, clutching her forehead, and brushes, lipsticks, shadows, and, worst of all, blush, which spread its pink dust over the snow-white hemline, fell too.

"Freeze!" ordered Rachel quickly, but not to the children, but to Danielle - putting her index finger in front of Dany's face, Rachel glared at her. The bride froze in utter shock with her mouth open, but didn't utter a word. "Nothing terrible has happened, just breathe," your sister said calmly. "Now get up carefully and let's go to the bathroom."

"Why ya crying?" you asked Tris tiredly, taking a seat next to her.

"It hurts!" she sobbed, rubbing her forehead vigorously and demonstratively and peering at you surreptitiously - would it occur to you that you should have blown on it? 

Tris was snatched right out from under your nose before you could make a sound. "Get her over here," Rachel commanded, scooping the whimpering girl into her arms. "Ya too," she turned sternly to her son. "Ya'll go to Frank's now, I can't stand it any longer. Dany, follow me!"

Danielle, picking up the hem of her dress and stepping over the mess on the floor, scampered after Rach and the children, and as soon as you were alone, the glowing embers burst into flames, and instead of ashes you felt nothing but scalding tongues of flame.

The fourth core was the last thing you destroyed - after that, you spent almost a year running around the void like clueless fools. You didn't see another settlement, not a single person alive or dead as if someone had deliberately changed the configuration, or worse, with invisible hands and inaudible orders, directed you to the wrong places.

You thoughtfully played with the broken wings of the blue butterflies on the table with your finger. The moment of truth was inevitably approaching, and though you thought you were ready for it, your fingers were trembling. You looked at everyone in the town as an enemy on the morning of the wedding day. Breathing heavily, you brushed the hairpins away from you, nervously ran your hands through your hair and picked up the silver hip chain.

The slit of the dress made it easy for you - you put up your leg on the table, and the hem of the skirt slid down over your skin, revealing everything from hip to ankle. You felt like you were sweating even from such basic and simple movements - you had only wrapped the chain around your thigh, and it felt like you were suffocating. You struggled to find the lock in the links and pulled frantically, trying to bend the hook, but it wouldn't budge. You were on the verge of hysterics for things were not going according to plan.

When the hook failed again, you raked the chain in your hand and threw it on the table with force - it rattled pitifully, quietly, and you clutched your head. It was the only sound you'd heard since everyone else had left the room. The creature inside was silent, so quiet that it added another grain of suspicion to the sloshing bowl of worry. Was it gloating? Did it deliberately give no clues? It didn't even whine about being hungry. You had lived side by side with it all your life, sharing not only your body but also your soul, and yet you still knew neither its loyalty nor its treachery.

There was a soft knock, and you were almost ready to lash out at whoever was about to enter, but the remnants of your sanity chained your feet to the floor. The door clicked open, letting you know that the guest hadn't even waited for permission to enter. Taking a deep, shaky breath, you were confronted with a fascinated look - Gojo froze in the doorway, unable to take his eyes off you. "You...," he whispered admiringly, stepping forward and closing the door behind him. "You look like..."

You squirmed in embarrassment and looked away. "Well, you know," laughed the sorcerer, standing behind you and putting his arm around your shoulders. "If I were a bee and you were a flower, I'd pollinate only you."

There was no trace of gentle shyness left - your jaw dropped open in shock, and you frowned your eyebrows in disbelief, hiding your face in your hand in shame. Only the shame wasn't yours. "Never again," you mumbled through a suppressed laugh. "Never again in your life even think about complimenting me."

Gojo laughed softly, hugging you tighter - you were naive to think he'd said that for laughs. If you'd only seen yourself, if you'd known he felt your anxiety as his own, you'd understand why he'd acted like a clown. "No, really," he murmured softly, pulling back a little and looking at you in the mirror. "You look like..."  

Was there such a word in any language at all? Or had the sorcerer, enveloped and enslaved by your countenance, forgotten his own? Your blue fit-and-flare dress was simple and almost closed, with only the loose sleeves woven of translucent fabric condescendingly allowing your scars to see the sunlight. Even the neckline was maddening to Gojo - it wasn't deep at all, but it exposed your collarbones. Only your deep trust, freely given to him, stopped him from ripping your dress off as he glanced down at the exposed top of your breasts, which rose slowly as if begging to be released, and he buried his nose in your neck. He understood why you'd allowed yourself such a neckline - your neck was covered with a satin blue ribbon that covered dozens of scars, and what upset him about the divine image was your mask. You didn't even take it off, you just changed the color to blue.  

"How do I look?" you ask quietly, exhausted with anticipation.

"Like the love of all my lives," grinned Gojo smugly, hiding his shyness behind his impudence.

You laughed for the second time, and he was ready to grab that laugh and put it in his chest pocket, to keep him warm day and night for the rest of your days, but he still felt the anxiety that hugged you instead. "Mochi," he turned to you affectionately, gently rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," you admitted honestly, shrugging uncertainly. "It's just... It's just that I've been composing the image in my head for a long time," you began to ramble, panting. "And then the hairpins broke, and now the damn chain won't fasten, and the whole look went to hell-"

"Okay, stop," he stopped you gently. "Let's go in order. Where are the hairpins?" you nodded sullenly at the broken butterflies on the table. Gojo, taking the hairpins and digging through the desk drawer, sat down in the chair Danielle had been sitting in earlier. It was so strange to watch a man who did everything carelessly and did it successfully, focused on anything. You peeked over his shoulder, watching as he carefully and meticulously applied glue to the broken edges, sticking out the tip of his tongue. Letting the butterflies dry, the sorcerer took the blue shadow and, after carefully painting over the joints, rose from his chair - grinning embarrassedly and tucking your strands behind your ears, he put it on you. It was such a simple gesture, but why did his eyes suddenly stung? "What do we have next on the list?"

"A hip chain."

The sorcerer's face immediately darkened, for when you spoke of the chain earlier, you did not mention its functionality. "Uh, okay," he gulped. "Sit on the bed for now."

Gojo didn't even have anything to grab onto, no time to stretch because the jewelry was on the table - it was shining brightly, catching his eye. He glanced over his shoulder at you - you were already sitting on the bed, the cheeky cut mocking him, exposing your perfect, scarred leg. Shifting his gaze to his hands, he realized with horror that his fingers were subtly trembling. Exhaling, he snapped back to his senses - the sorcerer wasn't about to back down, leaving you alone with even something minor.

He grabbed the chain confidently and walked to the bed, then slowly knelt down in front of you. You felt strange - he never once raised his unusual, frowning gaze to you. He took your leg and placed it carefully on his shoulder, the chain jingling with joy as he unraveled it and wrapped it around your thigh. Gojo grinned wistfully, his hands were shaking, and he was a poor assistant at the moment. He exhaled noisily, hotly, when the hook finally came together, but his insides went cold when he realized you were in no hurry to remove your leg, and Gojo looked at you hesitantly, almost timidly.

You saw no lust on his face. Passion and lust cloud the human gaze, stupefy the mind, but the Gojo's eyes were clear, shiny - a flickering blue flame that begged you not to extinguish it. With the knowledge that he would smolder in hell for this, Gojo turned his head slightly, pressed your knee closer, and kissed it. 

"Toru," his name scorched on your trembling exhale, snapping all his stamina. With a pitiful whimper on his lips, Gojo continued to leave wet kisses on the inside of your thigh, paying special attention to the scars - he nibbled them gently, carefully running his hot tongue over each imperfection, trying to make you forget about them. The grip of his hand on your waist grew more insistent, but no matter how tightly he held you, it never became violent - it was as if he were silently begging you not to push him away. You grasped his shoulder, lost in the sensations of hot kisses and cold silver chain, but you couldn't find the strength to pull away.   

Gently but brazenly moving on, straight to your hearts and innermost places, tearing his way between kisses and silent moans, Gojo felt like he was about to suffocate, but even death seemed a more lenient punishment than pulling away and leaving you. You could feel his disheveled white hair tickling your skin as he gently rubbed his cheek and nose against your skin in brief moments of respite, letting your heated souls cool, but only to begin caressing you again. He was close, so close that you were scared - you didn't know which side to expect a blow from, or when you would finally be hurt. "Toru!" you exclaimed anxiously, grabbing him by the shoulders.

Confused, Gojo pulled away from you abruptly. He realized he could have ended up sprawled on the wall, but instead the sorcerer met you, worried and helpless - you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to cover yourself, and it was all his doing - he was the one who conjured and molded your frightened image. "I'm sorry, I'm- I'm not ready for this, I'm not-" you sputtered in a worried apology, lowering your eyes. "I can't-"

Gojo, biting his lip painfully, cupped your hot cheeks. "Don't," he pleaded, shaking his head. "It's all my fault. I'm the one who didn't hold back," he said through his teeth, angry with himself. "I'm sorry. God, baby, I'm so sorry," pulling you against him, the sorcerer felt your body quivering in small shivers, and oh gods, how scared he was to look at your face. He wasn't ready to see your tears. Gojo couldn't hear them, couldn't feel his shirt getting wet, but you were clutching at him like your life depended on it. 

He wanted to be your support, but he broke as soon as he knelt before you. His heart became lifeless as soon as Gojo thought of you running away again, taking your trust and vulnerability with you. Your feelings, like a house of cards caught in the onslaught of a greedy wind, threatened to fly away, to evaporate - now he could feel the fear that the consequences of his greed had brought. "I can't believe it," the sorcerer grinned bitterly, pulling away from you slightly. The fact that you still hadn't raised your gaze to him was a punishment to him. "I almost broke it myself just now," persistence reluctantly gave way to tenderness - Gojo, once again cupping your cheeks, showered your face with sad, slow kisses. You neither confirmed nor denied what he said, and your silence fell heavy on his shoulders. "Please tell me I didn't break it," he pleaded, making a desperate attempt at seeking your reassurance - Gojo, ignoring the fact that your mask separated you, covered your lips with his. You, almost feeling their warmth, gave a short, pitiful whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. "Please, say it."    

You shook your head weakly. "Really?" smiled Gojo, holding back tears. He sat before you, trying to seek your forgiveness, and you couldn't understand why and from where was the remorse in his eyes? What was astonishing to your ignorant soul was that he didn't take advantage of your stupor, you didn't feel dirty or used, you didn't feel like gutting your own brains and ripping out your own heart. "I'll never do anything you don't want me to," he promised you in a hot whisper, his hand buried in your hair.

"Okay," you replied embarrassedly, biting your lip naively. You were learning to accept the close, warm embrace as pure touch - Gojo was ready to glue himself to you, to assure you that he would never hurt you. 

The open door took away the intimacy of the moment - you both flinched, and Gojo pulled you closer to him, harder, protecting you. "Ya halfwits out of your minds?" gasped Rachel, seeing you in the intimate pose. "The ceremony is about to start and you have a speech to give!" she barked. "Get out of here now!"

"What speech?" you mumbled worriedly, looking at your sister dumbfounded.

"Ya'll be making the first toast to the newlyweds," your sister, indignant at your obliviousness, rolled her eyes.

"But no one told me anything!"

"Well... I just told ya," Rach shrugged indifferently and left the room, giving you one last angry look.

The river was extremely calm – it wasn't worried about the delight of the guests, nor the exciting expectation of the betrothed. You had been clearing the shore for months, making it smooth and hospitable, and you could only hope that the waters would be favorable and would not wash it away. The forces of nature took pity on you and your labors - the holding site remained touched only by your hands.

Dozens of round tables were set up on the stone-paved shore - the guests slowly flocked to the venue, taking their seats. Some were whispering about the bride, some were quietly lamenting the fact that there was still no alcohol on the tables, and some were rubbing their stomachs in anticipation, but absolutely everyone was avoiding the path reserved for the bride - her path, framed by thousands of scarlet rose petals, led straight to the white archway under which the Holy Father and the groom were already standing. Megumi clenched and unclenched his fists as he lowered his head and raised it to gaze up at the heavens, and it was obvious that he was having a hard time standing still and waiting.  

Despite Dany's protests and objections, you had to sacrifice the opportunity to see the altar up close - you sat at the side end table so that you could see everyone else. Decorated awnings to protect you from the sun or rain had to be abandoned in the name of the plan, too. Only Rachel, Issu, Megumi, Frank, and Gojo knew about the whole clandestine operation, and everyone kept their mouths shut, no one daring to even glance up to indicate that they were involved in anything. You glanced restlessly at the empty seat to your right, where Rachel was supposed to be sitting. You knew that she and Frank were finishing bottling the orchid wine right now, but you still felt uneasy. 

"I beg your pardon," the man addressed you, placing his hand on your shoulder and smiling self-consciously. You didn't even see Gojo look him over from head to toe and unobtrusively slip man's hand off your arm. "Anything stronger than champagne tonight?" he asked, slurring. 

"We're having a wedding, not a corporate party," you replied, smiling cordially back. "Now take your seat," the contrast in your voice made the man straighten up, even though you weren't paying attention to him at all.

You, crossing your legs, fussily adjusted your skirt, smoothing out the folds and shaking off invisible dust, and, not being able to closely examine each and every guest, you closed your eyes, remembering the previously captured picture, mentally walking among the tables, and in your head was rushing one question - which of them?

When you squeezed the fabric again, Gojo took your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of your palm. "What is it?" the sorcerer asked delicately, gazing into your eyes. 

"I feel uneasy," you admitted honestly.

"It's okay, Mochi," he assured you softly, continuing to cover your palm with kisses. "Even if there are ten of them, we can handle it," you nodded weakly, squeezing his hand, trying to express some of the gratitude you felt now.

You sighed as a notification played on your phone.

[05:51pm] Frank: We're done with the wine. 

[05:59pm] Frank: It's time.

You looked again at the empty seat on the right - if Frank was already with Danielle, where was your sister? Turning around, you met the eyes of the musicians who were already at the ready - a soft wave of your hand made you feel as if you were the one walking down the aisle. A moment later, the violin played its song, beginning the countdown to the imminent joining of two hearts.

The musicians' melody attracted hundreds of waiting eyes, and no one noticed how the bride came out from the corner of the nearest house to be at the beginning of her journey, where two little kids - Tris and Mike - were waiting for her. The children were jumping up and down with joy, eager to see the girl off, even though they barely understood the significance of what was happening. Danielle, holding the proud Frank under her arm, could not take her eyes off the floor - the clatter of her heels became louder and clearer, and no one could ignore the bride when she stepped on the path of scarlet roses.

Megumi, unable to withstand the onslaught of emotion, pressed his hands into his face and turned away - the dazed Father was confused at first, but immediately pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. "My son, you must realize that you are missing a moment that will never come again," he addressed Fushiguro gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. Megumi pulled his hands away from his face in fright - the Holy Father smiled softly when he saw the boy's red eyes flooded with tears. Megumi embarrassedly accepted the handkerchief from the elderly hands, and turned around, swallowing.

The boy, realizing that he had almost missed it, pressed his hand to his mouth, holding back the insolent and insistent crying. His girl, in a beautiful white dress, was already in tears before she even reached the altar. The children were running ahead, and while Mike was somewhat aware of what was happening and scattering petals right in front of Dany, for Tris it was just a game - Megumi grinned wetly, sobbing as the little girl threw petals at someone's face.

Danielle was almost in his arms as Frank glared menacingly at Megumi, silently ordering him to take care of her for the rest of his life. Of course, the gray-haired man was jealous, but all he had to do was lift his chin, adjust his tie, and stand beside the couple. 

Megumi and Danielle couldn't look away from each other. They were aware that they were not observing the norms of propriety - the couple were supposed to stand across from each other and look into each other's eyes - but now, even as the priest spoke, they stood with their arms around each other, their shoulders shaking in unison.

Perhaps you should have listened to Danielle and sat closer to them - you couldn't hear the speech or the sobs from here. You could only see the Holy Father's lips moving, Fushiguro stroking his bride's cheeks as she nodded frantically, desperately pressing her forehead against his. She no longer cared about the makeup and the long-washed blush on the hem of her dress, she didn't care about the people staring at them, there was only peace around them, existed in each other's eyes.

Gojo was looking at them, fiddling with the watch on his hand - just when he thought you might see it, he pulled his hand away, even though it felt like a magnet pulling it back. The blue in his eyes had somehow turned white, so luminous that it was almost unbearable to keep his eyelids open. "They grow up so fast...," the sorcerer muttered without a trace of silliness in his voice. You, pursing your lips and nodding, clinked your glass with his empty one on the table and drank the champagne in a gulp. "Don't push it," he reprimanded you, taking your glass and the bottle that stood in close proximity from you. "You still have a speech to give." 

"Don't remind me," you whimpered, leaning back in your chair.

The violin melody faded away, replaced by a different, loud and explosive one as Axel and Ryan jumped up from their seats and applauded first, making everyone pick up their tune, while the husband and wife stood under the altar and kissed self-consciously and tenderly, ignoring everyone else.

The waiters were pouring champagne and serving food, and Issu and his younger brother were among the proven faces - you wouldn't trust anyone else to pour wine into people's glasses. Megumi was a groom, Gojo looked more like a guest of honor than an attendant, and everyone knew you, Rachel, and Frank by sight. Only Issu, always inconspicuous and quiet, fit the role.

You watched with a soft smile as Megumi took his wife by the hand and led her to the table at the head of the others, where there were only two seats. A small and cheeky little girl was tangled under their feet, and you could tell from her outstretched arms that she was begging to be held. "I'll be right back," you said quietly, intent on picking up the interfering Tris.

As you got closer, you heard Little Miss Drama squealing indignantly about sparkles. "I want it like it's town day!" she whined, rubbing Megumi's sleeve. Without waiting for the right moment, you scooped her up into your arms - she fidgeted, pouting her lips.

"Axel!" you shouted to be heard. Axel looked up from his plate and stared at you with his mouth full. "Give me a hand!" you gave some indication of what you needed to do by clapping your hands together. The boy nodded understandingly, wiped his face with the handkerchief, and stood up from his chair - you had been under the weight of Camila's hard stare the whole time. She was ready to tear you apart at the mere mention of her son, and all you could think about was that after the wedding she wouldn't let the boys out of town. At least not over her dead body.

The boy, clapping his hands, released a thousand sparks, and they soared high upward, but the sunset sky was willful and haughty, not allowing them to shine in full force. Only the eastern skies, soft, benevolent, and covered with twilight, helped the sparks fulfill their purpose. Tris, with her head back, no longer muttered or whimpered, but watched mesmerized as the lights floated in the waters of the sky.

"You could have asked me," Megumi reproached you sullenly.

"Don't pout," you smiled sincerely. "Ya're having a wedding today," you reminded, shifting your gaze to Danielle - her cheeks, neck and shoulders were especially ruddy against the white dress. "Congratulations, guys!" you giggled softly, making the newlyweds smile stupidly and embarrassedly.

"Thank ya," Danielle whispered, fussily fixing her curls.

Gojo watched you, the way you chattered with Dany, the way you glanced playfully at Megumi, and the way you held Tris in your arms, who wriggled and bounced, trying to catch a single light without realizing it was far away. Your dress was softly moving, the wind was ruffling your hair, and the butterflies seemed to come to life - it seemed to the sorcerer that their wings were fluttering smoothly. He didn't flinch even when Frank plopped into the chair to his left - so mesmerized was Gojo. "Don't ya dare, son," Frank ordered sternly, seeing Gojo stroking the watch on his wrist in impatience. "It's the kid's day today, so don't ya dare turn all the attention on yourself."  

"If I ever did...," he muttered, lost in his reverie and not realizing what the conversation was about.

Frank hummed thoughtfully under his breath. "Ya're gonna rip the strap on your watch like that," he pointed out, raising an eyebrow, and Gojo pulled his hands under the table. His broad shoulders slumped, and Frank patted the sorcerer on the back with a sigh. Though he no longer pestered the watch the man had given him earlier, his gaze didn't change. Frank knew how Gojo felt because he had once looked at his wife as well, and would only continue to look if she were here.  

Feeling the tears come to his eyes, Frank filled his glass with champagne and took a large sip. His sun would never wake up and rise again, and he grinned wistfully, feeling warm inside at the thought of a once stranger finding his sunshine. "You alright?" asked Gojo, but only cringed squeamishly when he saw the elderly wet eyes. "Gosh... Are all old men so sentimental?" he quietly resented, trying to re-layer the once elusive smugness and nonchalance that you had unceremoniously snapped off. 

"By the time ya're my age, ya'll find out," Frank muttered, waving him off and filling his glass again - as soon as he wanted to fill the sorcerer's glass, Gojo instantly covered it with his palm.

"It's strange, actually," Gojo marveled quietly, his chin resting on his hand as he watched you lure one of the sparks with your hand as it lowered gently, shining brighter and brighter. The memory of your skin still burned on his lips, and in his heart was your gaze, always on him, whether you were angry or in love with him. You never said the word out loud, never even stuttered or wandered around sending Gojo hints or riddles. "I always wanted to die in battle at the hands of a man or creature that superior to me in strength, and back then, in the battle with Sukuna, I really thought it was my last day," he smiled stupidly, trying to suppress a chuckle as the light tried to escape from you back into the sky, but you stubbornly pulled it back - it levitated over your palm, displeased at being studied by childish eyes. "I was even glad because I didn't wanna die of old age or disease. I considered those deaths unworthy of me," just like everything and everyone else. Only an unscrupulous person could poke a sorcerer's nose in his own smugness. You did it without realizing it yourself, turned his world upside down, and there was nothing left for him to do but take the feeling hidden from everyone, even himself, from his pockets. "It's only recently that I've realized that I... I don't wanna die at all."  

"Why the change of mind?" asked Frank slyly, looking at Gojo understandingly.

The Gojo's breath caught when you turned suddenly to him - you were still holding the hovering spark in your palm, and you laughed warmly, realizing that you'd been watching all this time. Letting the flame go free, you waved to him gently, and Gojo, smoldering with embarrassment and melting at the sight of you, waved back shyly. "It was more change of a heart."   

The sorcerer faltered as you headed back to the table - he kicked Frank to keep his mouth shut, and got a fatherly slap for it. Why didn't he think about how much it would hurt to bare weaknesses that, left defenseless, were suddenly exposed to the looming blades of fear? As you sat down next to him, Tris crawled over Gojo and plopped herself onto the softer - you snorted quietly, crossing your arms over your chest as Tris made herself comfortable on Frank's legs.

"Oh, we should hide it...," Frank said politely, setting the champagne bottle aside, but, already tipsy, he didn't notice the glass on the way - it toppled over, staining the white tablecloth, the man's pants, and, disastrously, the girl's dress. "Don't panic," Frank ordered - Tris didn't even have time to squeak. "We'll have a quick change of clothes. We'll be back in time for the first toast," he looked meaningfully at Gojo, and he nodded and put his arm around you as if trying to shield you from any harm. 

As soon as Frank stood up, you saw a graceful figure float up to the newlyweds' table. "What?" you hissed, gazing Nathaniel with harsh look. "What's he doing here?" you remembered that you'd told Frank to lock him out of the town - so how did he get in here, and why? Your nerves were already frayed, and you'd been suspicious of everyone since this morning - the arrogant, unconcerned look of a superior who'd shown up at a wedding made your blood boil. 

"I'm the one who gave him access," Frank told you back. "And he's the one who covered for you."

"Did I ask for that?" you protested.

"Quiet, girl!" the man bellowed, but it was harder to sermonize you now - Frank could see the way Gojo's hand tensed, and the look he gave the gray-haired man as soon as he snapped at you. Tris, sensing the quarrel with her childish heart, whimpered quietly. "I'm sorry," he coughed awkwardly. "He's really been a big help, so ya should thank him. I'll lock town back up for him right away after the wedding, if it makes ya feel better," nodding, Frank carried the little girl to the house on the hill. 

You didn't even realize how hard you were clenching your teeth as you glared at the golden hair. Inside, you felt like you'd been played for a fool before you could do anything about it. You tried your best to shrug it off as anxiety - though it had some basis in fact, you were tired of doubting, your mind melting under the strain. "Mochi," Gojo whispered softly in your ear, pulling you out of your daze and throwing you into a shiver. "How about we dance?" he suggested slyly, rising from his seat. How do you get used to him reading you like an open book? How do you get over the fact that he could feel your emotions, even completely unable to see your face? 

"I don't...," you stammered embarrassedly, scratching the back of your head. "I don't know how to dance. Not at all."

You were late and there was no strength in your excuses - he was already standing before you, ready to pick you up and dispel your fear, protecting your vulnerability. "Does it matter?" Gojo grinned softly, holding out a warm hand to you.

Avoiding responsibility in the blazing sun, you lay on the roof ledge of a one-story bar with one leg overhanging and your eyes closed. You didn't want to go home because there was a chance that Frank would put a mountain of chores on your shoulders. You just wanted to rest after the raid. You'd rather sink into a puddle of sweat than spend an evening in the garden.

No matter how shameless you were, you still frowned every time you thought of Kyle - he'd taken all of his father's wrath on himself and was probably working for the three of you right now. The laziness was louder and more persuasive anyway, and the fatigue echoed it every now and then, leaving the shame to squeak quietly in the far corner of your tired mind.

You put your hands behind your head and made yourself comfortable, even though you knew that sleep would never catch up with you, neither here, under the evil sun, nor in a comfortable bed. You didn't care about the people passing by - there weren't many of them anyway, for in this heat they were all hiding in the cool shadows of their homes. "Hello," you glanced down, leisurely opening one eye.

"Hey, Nael," you chirped sleepily, propping yourself up on your elbows. "What up?"

"Why don't you come down first?" he asked sternly.

"Ya the one who came to me," you grinned playfully, squinting against the sun. "So ya the one who came up," Nathaniel stepped from foot to foot, and you couldn't help but wonder - he'd been practicing long and hard for the past few months, had he still not mastered relocating? He was fidgeting around the bar, and barely did you see the quiet desperation in his eyes, you decided to spare the man. "There's a ladder in the back," you chuckled, pointing a thumb behind your back.

You thought you heard a quiet snort and a disgruntled muttering - maybe it was just the mockery of the heat. It took Nathaniel longer to shake himself off than it did to get up on the roof - he was still squirming as he moved closer to you, smoothing his shirt sleeves with a squeamish look. Realizing you weren't going to get up, the man wrinkled his nose and sat down on the ledge next to you. " Filthy weather," he muttered, feeling the sweat running down his body.  

"Ya didn't come to talk about the weather," you sighed frustratedly. "Well, tell me about it. How's the promotion going?"

Even his primness couldn't hide his resentment; despite his proudly straight back, his eyes told everything about him. "I won't lie. Sometimes I just think they enjoy picking on me. Christian loading me up with pointless work and endless trainings, taking me for an errand boy, but as soon as I dare mention promotion, he tells me that the staff is full and there are no changes to the council," he went on in a rank tirade without raising his voice, though Nathaniel's graceful but sharp gesticulation gave him away. "Why can't he just raise the number of people on the council from five to six?"

"That's the way it's been since the founding of the hunters as an organization," you shrugged nonchalantly. "At least according to the stories."

"Then I especially don't see the point of all this," Nathaniel grinned, and you looked away. Someone like him wouldn't show so much emotion for free. "None of them are going to die anytime soon, so why do they have to press at me like this?"

"Because ya'd make a good successor," you grimaced at your own words, for the uncertainty seeping through them blurred any truthfulness. There was an undercurrent of ambiguity in you - you couldn't believe that such a man had come just to complain.

"Can you help me?" blurted out, but immediately stopped when he heard the desperation in his voice, and lifted his chin.

"What do ya want from me?" you asked tiredly. The more a man got more honest, the more exhausted it got.

"I have some information," the man said quietly, carefully, intertwining his fingers. "I know that Edgar...," Nathaniel hesitated, choosing tactful words. "That he has a… connection with the dioreact."

"And?"

"Follow him," his words sounded almost like an order. "Follow him, see it for yourself, memorize it, and take Edgar to trial."

You sat up fully and gave the man a rounded stare, but not from shock. From interest. "What?" you laughed at the top of your voice, grabbing your chest. "Ya've got a knack for it. I respect that."

"I wasn't kidding-"

"Then why don't ya take him yourself?" Nathaniel's insides went cold when he heard your tone-not even the wind was so fickle. You'd been laughing only a second ago, but your smile had been replaced by indifference - so piercing, so burning that it seemed stiff. It all but proved that the black eyes he'd once seen in the void were no illusion.

"Because I'm scared," he admitted on an exhale. "I've never been there, and you... It's your job. Besides, I'm not sure I can beat Edgar."

"Then why did ya decide you were worthy to take his place?"

"I can be of use to you," the man stated firmly. "Don't you need your own person among those who constantly want to get rid of you?"

"That's odd," you drawled. "Why didn't ya just tell Christian and the others about it?"

"I did!" burst out the man. "Do you think anyone ever believed me?"

You were not interested in the moral side of the matter. You worshipped only two lords - gluttony and greed - and unfortunately, Nathaniel could not satiate either of them. "And what will ya pay with?" you grinned ironically. "Ya have nothing."

As Nathaniel sat there, accepting his defeat, you wondered how close you could let him get. How soon will a friend turn out to be an enemy? And wasn't he an enemy initially? "Ya know, there's something," you said, wary of betrayal. Nathaniel looked at you cautiously, and then at the dagger you clutched in your hand. "In return for my promise, I'll take yours."

The man stared at you, stunned, his arrogance gone. Dark, glittering, carnivorous eyes stared back at him, and you slowly held out the dagger to him. "Don't... Don't you just need mental consent?" he whispered fearfully, afraid to take hold of your part that obeyed only you.

"No-no-no," you reassured him with contrived gentleness, tilting your head to the side and shoving the dagger into his hands. "I don't do that sort of thing," you chuckled, straightening your head sharply and moving closer to the man. "I need a clear answer," you held out your bare wrist to him. "Yes means yes, no means no."

Swallowing, Nael grasped the hilt with a trembling hand. He would not have a better opportunity - if he refused, he risked being an unwanted soul, once pulled from the void. Ambition took its course - if the ladder did not want to be climbed, he would build his own, climbing it he would be able to see everything crystal clear, and, what was even better, to look down on everyone. He drew a line across your wrist with the edge of the dagger, but instead of blood, he saw only a faint glow, which was immediately extinguished. Nathaniel drew a second line over the first, leaving his promise on you forever.

The time was inevitably approaching evening, and the sparks in the sky were burning brighter and brighter. All the guests, well-fed and happy, were sitting at their tables, talking excitedly and impatiently, waiting for the first toast to the newlyweds. You, looking at everyone, couldn't even open your mouth. Frank and Tris still hadn't returned - you couldn't know, but maybe the man had decided it would be safer for the little girl, or maybe she was cranky and was picking out a suitable dress from the dozens of previously bought ones. Once again looking at the empty seat on the right, you couldn't stand it - taking the phone in your hands, you dialed your sister.

The call wasn't answered right away - the beeps, deliberately stretching out, made you drum your fingers on the table. "What do ya want?" asked Rachel grudgingly. She was breathing heavily, clearly out of breath and trying to hide it.

"Where the hell are ya?" you whispered anxiously, covering your face lightly with your hand and hiding your gaze from everyone. 

"Ya stupid?" hissed Rachel. "Who do ya think supposed to bottle the wine from the barrels?" you swallowed nervously when you saw the waiters - some of them carrying out wooden boxes, others swapping guests' dirty glasses for clean ones. You instantly hung up the phone with a trembling finger. She's just up to her old tricks. Getting drunk again, or worse, running straight from the wedding into the grip of another lustful suitor. You'd probably called her in the middle of action - you shook your head, wiping the sweat from your forehead as you tried to brush away the images.

As the waiter approached you to pour the wine into your glasses, you looked up to see Issu standing in front of you, one hand holding the bottom of the bottle and the other behind his back. He nodded briefly to you as a sign of readiness, you nodded back and looked at Megumi – the boy seemed to have been waiting for this, and repeated your gesture.

"Baby," Gojo called softly, squeezing your naked thigh, trying to comfort you, to soothe you. "Everyone's waiting," you looked at the faces of the guests with a hazy look, all of them blended into a single, rotten blur that stared right back at you. Your own flesh felt like it had been gnawed off, your blue dress became red – feeling almost retching, you tried to stand up, but you were stopped by the sorcerer's hand. He squeezed your shoulder gently and stood up. "I apologize," he smiled kindly at his guests, raising his wine-filled glass. "It's just that when Y/N is around me, she gets speechless," Gojo looked around with piercing blue eyes at the people in jackets and dresses, whose gazes were fixed on him, but the sorcerer was only interested in ones, dark blue and occasionally frowning. "Well, Megumi, now I'm really starting to get jealous," someone coughed embarrassedly, and some looked at each other perplexed, but the sorcerer didn't care about those people's misunderstandings. "And seriously...It's strange to see you like this," he sighed. A sullen expression loomed on Megumi's stone face. "Really, it is strange. But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing at all," he grinned vaguely, stroking the walls of the cool glass with his thumb. Facing Sukuna, Gojo couldn't even think of seeing Fushiguro eating breakfast at the table one day. Embarrassment at his own thoughts and his own useless power caused him to stifle his gaze for a moment. "Dany, you got the scowliest, the grumpiest," Gojo wanted to laugh, a blush of embarrassment and anger appearing on the Megumi's cheeks. "The most obnoxious... and the bravest brat in the world. But I know you're better and smarter than me," Gojo didn't need to look at you directly. It was enough for him to catch a glimpse of the blue sheen of your dress - it reminded him that you had a hand in raising the girl. "And you will never leave Megumi, especially when he needs you the most. If I was never sure of that before," Gojo stammered, for the persistent and unshakeable conviction of the short-term and fleeting nature of the sorcerer's life had begun to sway, wobbling and breaking his inner foundations - it became so hard to speak that the words almost trembled. "What I can say for sure now is that you will live long, and if you are lucky, you will live happily," Gojo he flushed a little, realizing that now everyone could reproach him with his own words about power and loneliness as interconnected things. "I see what you've become, and wanna think that I have some credit for it, but now I wanna take back what I once foolishly said to you. I hope that when you become stronger than me, you will leave at least a corner in your life for your teacher. It can be small and modest, I'm not picky. Megumi, Daniel. I know you're tired of accepting congratulations, but I want to congratulate you on the fact that even our cursed fate allowed you to find each other," Gojo wouldn't be Gojo if he didn't take the opportunity to look around slyly and without noticing Frank, he cheered. "Also, I'll be the godfather!"      

You didn't even hear the cheers of applause - you sat there, glaring at the table and, without realizing it, gnawing your thumb. "And now, friends, I'd like to raise the first toast," the sorcerer said cheerfully, raising his glass higher - all the guests unknowingly repeated after him. You didn't catch a word of what Gojo was saying - only his blurred movements told you the beginning of the end. Your heart was tearing all premonitions with its pounding, making you gnaw harder and harder into your own flesh. "To the union of the two hunters!" 

There was a second's silence after everyone repeated the last phrase in unison. You saw Gojo put down his glass without taking a drink. There was a clatter of cutlery on the left. On the right, you heard the clinking of broken crystal. You didn't even feel a hand on your shoulder; slowly you looked up through the painful haze and saw everyone, almost everyone, clutching at their throats. 

You didn't feel your finger bleeding. You didn't feel the nail plate gnawed through to the meat. The swords in your body twisted, making you forget about the external pain. The creatures coughed and grabbed at the white tablecloths, and silverware flew to the floor along with the unfinished dinner. With a ragged sigh, you leisurely turned your head to the right, where Rosalie was sitting. It was like she was waiting for you to pay attention to her. The woman saw your cold, doomed look, and she shook her glass of untouched wine happily, winking at you with dark eyes.

Defeat had no taste. Pain had no color. Regret didn't know how to burn, scorching your soul. Everything you had ever known had disowned you, and you felt no hands, no legs, no presence in the world.

You were shaken lightly by the shoulder, and you found the strength to turn your head slowly and look Gojo dead in the eye. "Run," you whispered softly before the ground shook. 

A purple flash burned away all grief. For a moment you thought you were dead, but the heat of the ground your body was pressed against protested as fluttering purple flames slid across your skin. Unconscious, you tried to get up, but your body was pinned down by something heavy, preventing you from breathing. As soon as you made any attempt to move, there was a ringing in your ears. You felt multiple feet pressing you harder into the ash and dirt, but you couldn't find the strength to resist. Screams in the distance, like lost souls begging for deliverance or mercy - you smiled, thinking that they might have just been voices in your head. You didn't even struggle when someone's hands closed around your neck - you just collapsed, unable to move a finger.

Suddenly, the grip was gone - you wheezed, shuddering. Your sluggish body was released from the pile of beams and picked up, bringing you to your feet. "Baby," Gojo whispered anxiously, fussily brushing strands of hair away from your face - the butterflies had long since broken off and died. It was like he'd dug you up straight from the grave - the sorcerer sobbed painfully at the sight of your pale face and the extinguished gaze that stared at one point. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay, we just need to get out of here." 

Your airways were clogged with fumes, and you couldn't see anything in front of you, dead bodies falling at your feet, but Gojo had his arm around your waist and was trying to look around. His strength really did lie in his loneliness at times, as he grimaced and realized with panic that he couldn't snap his fingers and change the foreign purple color to his own. Only immaculate blue eyes helped him find others in the smoke - the sorcerer dragged you towards the stream of cursed energy. "Megumi!" he shouted, seeing the boy fidgeting around, trying to look for anyone, but Danielle was nowhere near him. "Where's Dany?" 

"I relocated her home," he shouted back, coughing. "Where are the others?"

Gojo looked around frantically, squinting his watery eyes, the smoke cutting them like a knife. He darted down the trail, holding you up, and Megumi ran after him - meeting Yuji and Yuta, he raked them both by the scruff of the neck without a word. "Look for the others. Megumi, can you move a few people?"  

You couldn't hear the screams, but the faint, sweet smell of fried flesh hit your nose. Someone grabbed your arm with such force that it almost broke your wrist, and you saw the severed head of a man with black eyes at your feet. The beautiful face was contorted with anger - Gojo was panting in spite of the poisonous smoke. But none of them were killing demons. They were just giving them an excuse to take possession of more human bodies. "Tris... Frank...," you mumbled sluggishly, looking up at the house on the hill that was blazing purple fire - your once home was burning before your eyes. You slipped out of Gojo's grip on your wobbly legs and waddled over to the other side, holding the hem of your burnt dress.  

"Take everyone out," Gojo said, squeezing Megumi's shoulder and looking into his eyes. "I'll be right back," the boy nodded briefly and, grabbing his friends under his arms, disappeared from sight momentarily. But only to return again.

You saw golden hair developing on the horizon, and you sped up, ignoring Gojo's grip on your arm, and approached the figure. It wasn't a mirage at all. "Nathaniel?" you wondered in relief, grabbing the man's shoulder. When you turned him around, he was staring blankly at the floor, a bloody hole in his throat. The sorcerer, clinging to ypu more tightly, dragged you towards the house - you only saw the higher-up fall to his knees and then to the ground. Gojo had better not have dragged you forward so soon, for this time it was you who had to kneel.  

A familiar, lifeless face stared back at you from under the beams. "Axel?" you asked weakly, still hoping for an answer. Wrenching your arm free, you ran over to a pile of smoldering wood, and with your bare hands began digging up the body - you sobbed harder and harder, unable to feel the burns. "Ryan?" you whimpered, getting to the truth. Your two students were in the arms of your foe - Camila was lying straight on top of the breathless boys, never protecting them.

"Mochi, please, let's go," Gojo pleaded in a broken voice as you tried to rouse any of them. You desperately stroked their dead, burned faces, barely touching them for fear of waking them, and all he could do was cover your eyes with his palm. "It's okay," the sorcerer realized you needed time, but he couldn't give it to you. Clenching his teeth, Gojo wrapped his arms around your shuddering body at the waist and pulled you off the ground, dragging you back up the hill despite your silent protests. "We need to go..."   

You lost your senses and just went wherever you were led. You didn't even wonder if Gojo was the enemy; you didn't care if you were being torn apart. Had you been bringing demons into the town all this time? Was it all your doing? Was the hell that unfolded on the town's land only because you had once opened a way into someone else's? 

All of them were laughing, laughing so loudly that their sudden crying made you clutch your head - the machinations of common sense, which was gradually going mad, made you see the smiling faces of those who had been eating, drinking and dancing an hour before. They stood motionless, neither asking you for anything, nor reaching out to grasp your hand, all of them instantly turned to ashes that snowed on your head.

The heat on your skin grew brighter and clearer as you climbed the hill and stood near the burning house. The wood crackled, burning - you stared blankly as a beam fell to the ground. You flinched as the hem of your dress was tugged hesitantly. "Mike?" you exhaled convulsively, seeing his eyes full of incomprehension and horror. The boy's suit was torn and burnt, and his face and red hair were all sooty, but Mike himself seemed to be unharmed. "Mike," you exhaled, scooping the boy up in your arms and burrowing into his neck.

"Take him home, okay?" asked Gojo softly. "I'll go get Frank and Tris," you nodded, not taking your eyes off the boy. You frantically stroked his back, your hands feeling his warmth and a lively shiver.

"Relocate."

You sat a dazed Mike down on the dining room table - the kitchen and living room were already rushing with Doc and Shoko, trying to see everyone as quickly as possible. You kissed the redhead's top relentlessly, clutching your hands to the small shoulders. It was your sister's job to do that. But she wasn't here.

With a sob, you pulled away from Mike and glanced around at everyone present. Perhaps Megumi was right when he said that Gojo had been very lucky - luck was on his side right now. All of his students were here - terrified, dirty, with burns on their faces and limbs, but they were all breathing. And of yours, only Danielle was left.

"How's Megumi?" she asked on the verge of breaking down, running up to you - her beautiful white dress was stained with blood and soot.

"He's fine," you said, wiping your nose. "He'll be back soon," you nodded, not looking the girl in the eyes. "And so am I... I'll be back soon too."

"Relocate."

You were back in front of the charred door you hadn't dared enter a few minutes ago. You stood there, clutching and unclutching the folds of your skirt. If only they'd survived, they'd be long gone from that house - so there was no point in going in. A quiet cry escaped your lips - you hadn't seen them in the cliff house with everyone else.

Like a drowned woman, you paced the bottom of the lake, heavy stones tied to your feet. The light left on the surface of the water did not penetrate and warm you in the depths of clammy, nightmarish fear - you could barely move your feet, tangling in the mud and sinking in the sand. The cold water pushed you from side to side, filling your lungs - you could not even cough, for you were already dead.

Gojo was roused from his stupor by the sound of the charred door opening and your slow footsteps behind him. "What's in there?" you whispered quietly in a voice that foreshadowed that you already knew everything. "Satoru, what's in there... What's in there?" you rambled on the verge of breaking down, and his heart skipped a beat as you sped up - the sorcerer turned around abruptly and grabbed you, and before you could see the bitterness and sorrow in his eyes, he clutched your head to his chest and turned around again, letting you never come face to face with it - your back and his eyes witnessing the bloody tragedy. "What is it?" you whimpered, hitting his chest weakly with your fist.  

Gojo was frantically stroking your hair, resting his chin on the top of your head, tears in his eyes. Frank, sitting listlessly on the floor with his back against the wall, was still cradling the small body against you "Nothing," he lied, shaking his head frantically. The man's lowered glassy gaze from under half-closed eyelids was no longer friendly or stern. Tiny drops of blood fell from the corner of his lips, sizzling and vaporizing as they made contact with the hot floor. Two hearts, large and small, were pierced by a single blade - it protruded from their lifeless bodies. Realizing they had been killed before the toast had even been spoken, Gojo, choking on your sobs, backed away. "There's no one here," a quivering grin contorted his lips, and he shook his head, looking at Frank and Tris one last time. "There's no one here," the sorcerer repeated, closing the doors of the house on the hill behind you forever. 

Gojo led you back slowly, trying not to think about the people you'd left behind, dead or alive - he needed to get to Megumi. You weaved obediently beside him, and he was only more alarmed when he didn't see any black lines or dark eyes - you'd rather be mad than so empty. But as soon as you were at the foot of the hill, you pulled your arm out.   

Your wobbly gait was gone, and you stepped firmly forward, clearing a path. Offset after offset - dead bodies, burned wood, stones, roofs flew sideways, and the farther you moved, the more your actions became frantic, disorderly. The dead, burning town was no longer resisting - there was nothing else here but purple tongues of flame. No howls, no screams, no restless running. Only the cinders continued to walk in this silence. "Megumi?" the sorcerer asked puzzled, seeing a black hair, but not a shred of cursed energy emanated from that person. Someone was digging in the dirt, trying to get either a dead or half-dead person.  

"Issu," you said coldly, coming up from behind. He gave you a glimpse and continued raking the path. "Take your brother and get out of here."

"What about the rest of the people?" protested the boy, unable to tear his hands away from the unfamiliar face he had almost reached.

"Issu, come to your senses!" you barked, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and setting him on his feet. "There are no more people here," you muttered mournfully, giving the boy time to realize what was happening. Issu, lowering his gaze to the floor, shrugged his shoulders in confusion. He felt the same way you did. All these people, all these familiar faces you brought out, were no longer human. Or had never been human at all. The boy nodded briefly and headed toward one of the surviving houses - you could just see him picking up his little brother, who had jumped out of the window, in his arms.

"We all need to get out of here," wheezed a voice behind you. Gojo turned around and faced Fushiguro. He was dragging the unconscious Nobara on his back, crouching under her weight. 

What an abomination a stopped heart could be - it stopped pumping blood, and you, standing in the midst of human ashes, felt the merciless cold. You kept looking in the direction where the road of life had once been - no one would ever set foot on it again, desires were buried with their persons. "Mochi?" Gojo turned to you uncertainly, ready to lead you away. From here, you could not see the rock from which the deepest dreams of the people who had once lost them in the cold wasteland soared once a year. You nodded briefly, realizing that the dead Hopetown would never say goodbye to you - you couldn't even see the ghost of the paper plane. 

[May 23, 2023, 11:31pm; hunters' hq]

You immediately disappeared behind the bathroom doors of your workroom without going upstairs. You were ashamed to look them in the eye, and you were afraid that you would never see some of the judgmental eyes. Having never seen Frank and Tris dead, they were still alive for you in the back of your mind, and you forcefully held yourself in place so as not to return to Hopetown. You ripped off your dress with a jerk, determined to bury it - it rattled and ripped, and you whimpered and began shoving it zealously into the bucket. You pressed and tamped down the unruly fabric that tried to climb back out, its burnt folds bringing you back to the events of the dead town.

You kicked the bucket to the side, and with a loud thud, the bucket flew off the wall and collapsed, the dress slipping out of it, sprawling on the floor. With a jerk, you opened the dresser and pulled out the first one you could find. Pulling on a gray T-shirt and pants, you walked over to the sink and opened the faucet to full power, your hands shaking as you saw the black lines appearing.

There was a quiet, insistent knock at the door. "Mochi?" called out Gojo quietly. "May I come in?"

"No!" you bellowed, snapping out. Clenching your hands into fists to the point of pain and panting superficially, you looked cowardly at the door. "I'm sorry," you exhaled. "I really... I really need to be alone. For a couple minutes. Gimme a couple minutes."

"How can I leave you like this?" grinned the sorcerer wistfully, jerking the knob weakly without hope. His forehead was against the door, and he was thinking about what might have happened to you all alone - you never stuttered or mentioned anything like that, you seemed to love life with all your actions and words, but now there was only your broken shadow in front of him.

"Ya'd better tell me, is there somewhere we can crash?" you asked muffled, changing the subject. "We can't stay in this house."

Gojo frowned and thought of the never-restored Tokyo college, but something else, something similar, came to mind. "Kyoto college will do?" 

"Yeah," you answered without thinking. "Ya should... Ya tell the others for now and help them pack. And I'll be out in a bit. Really."

You heard him scrape hesitantly at the door, and then a couple of quiet taps on it before the sorcerer backed away. His hesitant footsteps sounded through the pouring water - Gojo stepped from foot to foot, and though he stepped farther back, he never turned his back. "If you're not out in ten minutes, I'll break down the door," he warned you before leaving the workroom. 

Barely stopped feeling his presence, you looked at yourself in the mirror. "What are ya looking at, bitch?" you sobbed, staring into the dark eyes. "Why didn't ya... Why didn't ya warn me?" you ran your hands restlessly through your black strands, desperately hoping to wash away the black color from them, but it remained stubborn and unyielding. You dipped your hands under the stream of water and began to frantically wash the soot and blood off them. "Or you can only yell when ya hungry?" you hissed, grabbing the edges of the sink as it cracked and you could only watch as the water ran away from you. Your whole body shuddered, though you felt no pain, and you slammed your fist into your own reflection, and it shattered into large shards. "Ya're no use to me," you whimpered, washing your bloody hands. Bending down and taking water in your palms, you leaned them against your face and wiped it – you didn't want to know if you were really crying.

It was time to keep your promise - you wiped your face with a towel and left the workroom for the kitchen. When you entered the corridor, you heard the hurried, frantic running on the second floor - almost no one was talking to each other, and if they did, they were very quiet. In the midst of this deafening confusion stood out a gentle lullaby that your sister was humming. When you entered the kitchen, you saw her sitting at the dining table, cradling her half-sleeping son. You walked carefully around the table and sat down across from Rachel. She didn't even look at you, just kept rocking Mike, humming softly to herself.

"Where have ya been?" you asked blankly. You watched absently as your sister, chuckling merrily, rose from her seat and walked over to the couch to lay your son down. She continued to stand behind you, and you felt neither threatened nor dead, only doomed.

"Have you ever wondered how we let this happen?" she asked sympathetically, walking past you. "Maybe we shouldn't have encroached on their territory, much less destroyed it," Rachel, stopping in the hallway, turned around - you didn't dare look up. You didn't want to see the green eyes or the red hair again, for it was all a deception. While he laughed your sister's ringing laugh, you were dying. "But now you know how we felt, liebe," Rei cooed, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway. 

next ⊳

[celiime]

inspired by die with a smile by bruno and gaga! ^^

thinking about how satoru’s death contradicted his own words, carrying no meaning when he found himself dying beside his, you, his wife.

“when you die, you die alone.”

satoru didn’t know how he’d come to swallow these words the second he found himself dying—with his sweet wife beside him, holding his hand through it all—he always held a belief that death doesn’t scare him.

at least, not when his beloved was right next to him.

the blood gushing down his cuts, his body split in half, each half parted from the other, blood a blinding red color bubbling from his lips, making its way down the side of his face. even to a sorcerer as strong as gojo satoru, it would have still been a scare, to die like that…

however, he found that he couldn’t feel any of that. no fear was in his system, no shred of concern, no worry. it was all just solace. he felt no pain, no guilt, no regrets.

everything seemed to float away as soon as his wife’s lips settled upon his sweaty forehead—marred with blood and cuts—soft and warm, reminding him of that same kiss you gave him just this morning.

“satoru…” a soft mumble of yours, so fleeting, almost lost to the own blood spilling out of the cut—where you lost your arm.

his eyes blinked drowsily at you, barely mustering the strength to focus on your arm—or well…the empty socket of what it used to be. despite himself, his heart clenches painfully at the sight of you like this, so weak and battered up…couldn’t you die in a less painful way?

his injuries didn’t hurt, his cut up body didn’t hurt. what hurt the most was the sight of you, the sight of you all cut up and marred with blood that shouldn’t be on your precious features.

oh…his precious baby. still doting on him even as they’re both on death’s door.

you had always loved him as if it’s the last time you will ever get to show your feelings, always hugged him so tenderly, as if he’s close to withering away. Your kisses were always so gentle, slow and passionate, taking his breath away.

and in turn? he gave everything to you. satoru promised to himself that he would give you anything you asked for, just a simple bat of your eyelashes and he would destroy the world for you.

he loved you as if it’s the last time he’ll get to love you.

and he will continue to love you, even as death precedes. death won’t separate him from his beloved.

“look at…you…” his voice, barely croaking out, was as soft as ever, “an…angel—“ a cough left his throat, choking on the blood leaving his mouth—

his heart warmed as you shakily smoothed your bloody palms over his face, half lidded eyes carrying worry in them.

“are you…coming to—to take me to heaven? heh.” even in his near death state, his delirious state, losing blood by the gallons, he still found it in himself to crack a small comment—to comfort his beloved bride.

satoru never believed in the after-life, but ever since he married you…he found himself wishing that there is one, so that his time with you will be endless.

a shaky chuckle left your lips, thumb smoothing over his cheekbones, “no, idiot. i’m—“ you gasped, feeling your body throb with the pain, “going with you.”

“wherever you go, that’s where i’ll always follow you, toru.” you had uttered the day you confessed your fear of losing him.

you knew it was the end. you knew there was no more living after this. no more seeing your students in the morning and greeting them, no more stressing over missions, no more…fighting curses.

your teary eyes studied your husband’s features, bleary gaze fighting to focus—to memorize his features even after you were in your own grave.

did this mean no more seeing your husband too?

oh, you were going to be sick. just at the mere thought.

satoru—the ever so strong sorcerer that never wavered—found tears welling up in his own eyes, breath hitching at the absolutely precious look on your soft features.

god, how can you be this pretty even while all marred with injuries and blood? how could you be this stunning even through his delirious eyes?

he hoped he would get to see that face in heaven. if the gods pitied him enough, surely they would.

they would pity this absolutely smitten man, so pitiful and pathetic in the face of his undying love for his wife.

because, even as you both were dying, blood seeping through both of your injuries, staining the ground with red—you were holding his hand, sitting next to him as you waited for the blood loss to finally grasp your soul.

you spoke true to your words, you truly did follow him—even to death.

his precious wife. his beloved bride. his world.

for his last breaths, he used them to pray to the gods, to beg and plead for him to see you in the afterlife. to grant the wish of a smitten man.

dying was not so bad, death is peaceful and serene, especially when the last sight he saw before his fluttering eyes was the soft smile of his wife—oh so delicate and full of love, the faint feeling of her forehead on his own being the last thing he felt.

“thank—you for…loving...” his last words, not meant to be a goodbye—but just in case, right? what if the afterlife did not exist? “m..e..”

“i’ll continue loving you.” you smiled down at your husband, feeling his chest stutter with a final breath beneath your weight, before it completely stilled. Your misty eyes fluttered, pressing the tip of your nose to his, stealing one last act of intimacy before eventually fading into darkness.

even death can’t snuff down the love you have for eachother. Nothing, no force, no strong force can stop you from loving eachother.

“you were soooo sappy!” a giggle left your lips, pink and plump, no signs of blood on them, both arms intact—evident in the way you had your arms wrapped around one of your husband’s toned arms.

a whine left his lips, “you’re such a hater! so what? i cant confess my love to my cute little wife? especially when i thought i wouldn’t see her pretty face again?” he huffed, looking down at you with a pout. no blood on his one face, either.

you stilled—

your big baby. your smitten husband. oh how you loved him.

“true…” a small hum left your lips, relishing in the way his free hand seemed to rest on your head, “thank you for loving me…satoru. even in the afterlife.”

your husband was the one to pause this time, her eyes rounding with surprise, heart stuttering in his chest—feeling his breath completely leave his body at your earnest confession of love.

“oh, who’s the sappy one, now?”

oh, how meek did his wife sound? he wanted to hold you for as long as the afterlife was eternal.

“but…i’ll continue loving you. wherever you go, and no matter what happens. ‘kay?”

the gods granted the request and prayer of a smitten man.

can’t believe i finished writing this heh!! this is a little something something…i’ve been so fixated on gojo’s death lately, and him as a whole…and bruno and gaga’s song just sparked up so many ideas!! i hope u guys enjoy!! a bit of a continuation—? or alternate ending to this!

[ann1eee]

Pampering Gojo Satoru because you know he’s had a bad day, even if he denies it.

Satoru returned to your shared apartment after quite a long day of work at Jujutsu Tech, placed a chaste kiss on your lips and went to sleep without his dinner, or a bath. You knew he had a bad day, and wanted to do whatever you could to make him feel better. Once you were sure he was asleep, you crept into the empty spot next to him, and spent a good hour stroking his head and kissing gently all over his face, making sure not to wake him up.

You woke up extra early in the morning, to drive to Satoru’s favourite bakery, and bring him a sugary sweet breakfast to replenish last nights lost energy. Just as you returned home from the bakery, you heard the bathroom door swing open and out came Satoru.

“Good morning baby” you cooed softly. He gave you a small smile and yawned as he made his way to the dining table.

You plated up his breakfast, adding extra whipped cream on his fluffy pancakes, just as he liked, in the shape of a heart. You served him his breakfast and he was shocked that you had made such an effort to drive all the way across town just for breakfast. He thanked you with a kiss on your lips, which escalated to a full on makeout session. You giggled as you pulled away and asked him to eat his pancakes before they get soggy.

After finishing breakfast, you asked him if everything was alright, and if something had happened the night prior for him to be so out of energy and upset. Hearing this, Satoru immediately tried to bring his walls back up by cracking a few odd jokes about the higher ups, hoping you’d think he was back to normal and not confront him further.

You realised Satoru had no interest in talking about his feelings, and rushing him to talk about it would do more harm than good. You smiled at him and kissed his forehead, because you knew how sweet he thinks it is.

“How about we have a day to ourselves today? We could relax and check out one of the new restaurants in the city?” you questioned, silently begging he’d give in and agree.

As if hearing your thoughts, Satoru agreed to the day off, but informed you that he might have to leave in case of an emergency. You beamed and nodded, pulling him into a tight hug as you thought about what you’d like to do with him.

After you both had showered, you decided to go to a lovely outdoor restaurant for lunch. You fed him a few bites, giggling as he got all shy when you wiped his mouth.

When you got back home, you decided to watch a movie in your dark bedroom, hoping Satoru would fall asleep and rest. He hadn’t been getting enough sleep recently, or ever, and you wanted him to relax on his day off. You put on a cute little romcom, and pulled Satoru onto your chest. You rubbed his back as you felt him drift off to sleep.

When Satoru awoke, he was greeted by the smell of something hot and sizzling. He gingerly exited the bedroom, and went into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist as he rested his forehead on your shoulder.

“Thank you for today, I really needed it” he admits, taking a shaky breath. You turn around with concern in your eyes, and pull him in for a long hug. He melts into the hug, and holds you as if you were some sort of precious treasure he couldn’t let go of. You cup his cheeks and kiss him on his lips, then his cheeks, then his nose, eyes and forehead until he erupts into laughter.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He says in between giggles.

You smile contently, finally being able to hear his genuine laugh, not something forced or fake.

“I love you Satoru. I’m always here, whether you want to talk about it or not.”

He smiles back at you and lifts you up in the air, twirling you around like a princess as you squeal and giggle.

You always knew when Satoru was having a bad day, and you always knew how to make him feel better.

[tswkento]

kind of arranged marriage au with gojo, where it is suddenly proposed during a big meeting that he attended out of pure convenience rather than his own desire and he is thoroughly disinterested in the idea until you come into the picture.

dragged into the room with two guards holding you up by your arms as you writhe in their hold, so bratty and feisty, unintentionally catching everyone’s attention as you curse the men by your sides — satoru finds your voice to be very familiar, but he can’t understand why because your hair is all over your face from your squirming.

and when you are not so gently put down on the floor, with your kimono in disarray while you are huffing and panting as you blow the strands of hair away from your face, satoru finally recognises you.

he watches as the guards let you go, cautiously watching you as you fix your kimono and smooth down your hair, and when an old lady approaches you they go away. some old man appears by his side, shakily introducing himself to satoru, but he completely ignores the man, still waiting for you to be alone to proceed. suddenly, this whole event becomes a lot more entertaining.

the old lady by your side points at the other side of the room and satoru follows her directions along with you — catching the sight of naoya zenin and the disgusted look you grant the lady before she whispers something into your and you direct your gaze at him.

the delight satoru feels at the sight of the death glare you send him is on another level. it is really you.

while he waits for the right moment, gojo takes in what the old man has been saying to him — apparently you were to be wedded either to him or to naoya, which could explain your previous interaction with the lady and the dirty look you gave the zenin guy.

the moment the old lady leaves you alone, satoru appears, languid steps approaching you as he shoves his hands in his pockets and bends forward, smirking down at you.

“oh i remember you. 2005, exhange event, fukuoka branch?”

you continue glaring at him, unwilling to dip into the memories he is sure he has brought back into your mind — your glossy lips twitch, though, so he knows you have a lot to say. he can tell you haven’t really changed from the first time he met you, but for some reason you are holding back now.

“haven’t changed, have you? the same bratty attitude, all bark and no bite.” he continues to rile you up, hoping that the condescending tone of his voice will bring something out of you. it seems to work because you hiss out a reply not even a moment later,

“and you’re still the same asshole, aren’t you?”

the sight of your balled fists, burning with potent cursed energy, makes his smirk grow, and he only chuckles.

“easy, tiger, we both know you are in no position to speak to me like that.”

your eyes widen at his words, feet taking you away from him as you gulp down whatever response you had in your mind. the fact that he has so much control over your life right here right now scares him just as much as it excites him, but the cruelty of his words is far bigger than what he has in mind.

at the end of the day, you are quite a pitiful sight.

he could just say ‘no’ and you will be basically sold to the zenin for your pretty face, very much aware of the tormenting you will be forced to go through to become a picture perfect wife for naoya. everyone knows that. you know that.

he looks down at your fists, seeing the unstable flickering of the energy around it, making him raise a wondering brow at that and causing you to hide your hands behind your back. your technique was something you were very proud of back then, and seeing you being self-conscious now was a confusing sight.

“what happened to being a sorcerer and all? did you give up so easily after your class lost that summer?”

you click your tongue at him, crossing your arms over your chest as you look around warily.

“i am forbidden from using my technique.”

“too bad at it?”

“no, asshole. i can’t work because i could hurt myself and it would be a liability to—” you close your mouth, a deep frown appearing on your forehead as you sigh. satoru, ever the patient, urges you,

“to what?”

you take a deep breath, covering your face with your palm, “to my reproductive system.”

oh. right. the clan heads are obsessed with him having an heir so it’s no wonder something like this even happened. though, satoru does feel pity brewing inside of him when he realises that you’ve been deprived of your life’s work and made to become something you clearly were not. he remembers your 16 year old self being very adamant on becoming the best of the best after losing to them for the nth time.

satoru makes a show of rubbing his chin, as if in deep thought, and then gasps, a wide smile appearing on his lips as he leans down to be on your eye level again.

“so, what do you think about becoming my wife?”

“everyone here knows that you don’t want to get married.” you glance at him in utter confusion, untrusting of his words.

satoru nods, smirking lazily, “i don’t. never said it’s gonna be a great marriage.” he takes a lock of your hair between his fingers, twirling it lightly while he continues, “it’s gonna save you, though.”

“what’s in it for you?”

“i get to save your day like the true hero i am and have the old geezers off my back,” he holds out his hand for you, an offer for you to take it and agree to this whole thing, “and you get to lead a semi-normal life with me. are you in or not?”

your eyes roam over his features before turning to the room full of people before you. everyone was staring at him and you, satoru already knew that, and as soon as you were to put your hand in his — chaos would ensue.

so you did. and thus, a different life started.

[mononijikayu]

house of cards — gojo satoru.

“Satoru–kun.” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it sent a shiver down his spine. Out of all your clients, he was your favorite. And he was the only one you ever slept with. He makes sure that it always stays that way. If anyone deserves your warmth, it is him. Only him.

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence

WARNING/S: afab! reader, not safe for work (nsfw), r-18 content, romance, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, loneliness, profanity, posessiveness, jealousy, intimacy, emotional dependency, getting together, smut, consensual sex, P to V sex, cowgirl sex, explicit depiction of sexual acts, depiction of loneliness, depiction of complex relationships, depiction of minor threat to harm, hostess escort! reader, sorcerer! gojo satoru;

WORD COUNT: 3.8k words.

NOTE: i like to think a lot about how gege said that gojo is the type of person that longs to be cared for. and i like to think that in some way, he would long for someone to take care of him one way or another. because he's suffered through taking care of everyone. so, i wanted to see him be loved by someone in a different way. anyway, i hope you enjoy it!!! ill be in exam hall today but i wanted to spoil you all. this is my little thanks to your love. ill be turning 24 tomorrow and i see no better way to celebrate than to write. i love you <3

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IT WAS JUST ANOTHER DAY. But you know it wasn’t. It never was when he was around. The neon lights of the infamous hostess bar in Shibuya painted the world in sultry shades of crimson and violet, casting long shadows against the sleek lines of Gojo Satoru’s figure as he made his way through the narrow streets.

His heart, always so guarded, felt heavy tonight. He had grown weary of the mask he wore for the world. His hands, capable of so much power, ached for a different kind of connection.

The door to the private room had creaked open, the familiar scent of your perfume wafting into the air. A mixture of jasmine and something darker, something forbidden. It was intoxicating.

He stepped inside, and the dim, intimate glow of the room wrapped around him like a lover's embrace. He adored it, this scent. He pays extra to know that he was the only one who gets this scent from you.

You in all your finery and beauty sat by the window, your silhouette framed by the soft light, and for a moment, he allowed himself to believe that this space—this sliver of time—was real.

Here, in this place, the all-seeing eyes of the world could not reach him. Infinity could not save him from his own loneliness. But staring at you, taking in the warmth of you; maybe you could save him from himself over and over.

“Satoru–kun.” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it sent a shiver down his spine.

Out of all your clients, he was your favorite.

And he was the only one you ever slept with.

He makes sure that it always stays that way.

If anyone deserves your warmth, it is him.

Only him.

You knew nothing about the Jujutsu world—the curses, the battles, the hidden truths that existed just beyond the reach of ordinary people. You had no idea who Gojo Satoru really was, what kind of power flowed through his veins, or the weight of the responsibilities he carried. He would rather that you don’t. 

In your world, he was simply a man who showed up, time and again, in the quiet hours of the night, with that same tired smile and those eyes that never seemed to lose their sparkle, even when they were clouded with something you couldn’t quite name. He was just a lonely man who longed to exist with another.

And yet… you were the only person who seemed to understand him.

You were the only one to truly care for him, since Geto Suguru left.

He doesn’t feel so alone when he’s with you.

It was strange, almost unspoken, the way you always knew what he needed before he said anything at all. The way you noticed the small things—a tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders slumped just slightly when he thought no one was looking. 

You didn’t know why he came to you. You didn’t know why he bothered coming here, when you were sure he could find some warmth in someone else’s arms. You didn’t know what kind of darkness haunted him when he closed his eyes, but you could feel it. The loneliness, the exhaustion, the invisible burden he never spoke of.

You didn’t pry. You knew that much in the business that you don’t meddle in their personal life too much. You can only have so much of the person. You barely know them. It was impolite. So, you never asked questions. Maybe that’s why he kept coming back—because with you, he didn’t have to explain anything. He didn’t have to exhaust himself with the abundance of existing the way he already does. 

He leaned against the wall now, watching you as you moved about the room, your presence calming, your movements graceful and sure. It was the same place he had come to so many nights before, but somehow, it always felt new when you were there. It wasn’t just the setting that put him at ease; it was you. The way you made him feel seen, even though you had no idea who he really was.

He watched in silence as you poured him a drink, your eyes meeting him as you handed him the glass. There was something in your gaze—something quiet, but knowing. You didn’t need to understand the battles he fought or the enemies he faced. You saw beyond all of that, to the man who stood before you, vulnerable and tired.

He didn’t respond right away, the sound of your voice lingering in the air, wrapping around him like a delicate thread pulling him closer. There was a fragility to the way you said his name, as if you understood the weight he carried but never spoke of it. That was why he kept coming back to you—here, he didn’t have to be the strongest. He could just be a man, longing for warmth.

“Satoru–kun.” you repeated, softer this time, your gaze locking with him as he stood still, his frame towering but his expression vulnerable. The mask he wore every day fell away in your presence, and for once, his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Without a word, he crossed the room, his long fingers tracing the edge of the table beside you before they found their way to your skin. There was a hesitance in his touch tonight, as if he feared what might happen if he let himself feel too much. He always made it seem so casual, so effortless, but you knew better. You could feel the tension in him, the unspoken need.

Your hand moved to meet his, your fingers intertwining with his larger ones, a silent invitation. He knelt before you, his breath warm against your skin as his hands trailed up your arms, his touch feather-light yet electric. Every movement was deliberate, each one a question, asking for something he couldn’t quite put into words.

“I told you to call me Satoru. No honorifics, no nothing. Just Satoru.”

“I didn’t want to be impolite.”

He pursed his lips into a flat line. But his gaze was soft. Only for you. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care about being polite. I care…I care more for you.”

"Satoru." you said softly, that same voice you always used when you sensed something deeper in him. "You don’t have to say anything. I know."

Gojo Satoru exhaled, long and slow, his fingers wrapping around the glass but not drinking. Just holding onto it, as if grounding himself in the moment. “You always know, don’t you?” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “It’s easy with you.”

Your lips curved into a small smile as you came closer, standing in front of him. "You act like it’s hard to read you, but… it’s not. Not for me."

He chuckled, though there was no real humor in it. “Most people think I’m an enigma. Some puzzle to be solved.”

“I don’t need to solve you.” you said, stepping closer, your hand reaching up to brush a stray lock of white hair from his forehead. “You’re not a puzzle, Satoru. You’re just… you.”

That simple statement hit him harder than he wanted to admit. You always say it. And yet, it makes him feel warm inside. He always feels validated by the thought of your tender words. It was easy to exist within those words. He was just him. He was just a man to you. Satoru. No expectations, no pressure, just an acknowledgment of who he was, stripped of the titles, the power, the world that constantly demanded more of him.

His calloused hand found yours, pulling it gently to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “You have no idea what you mean to me.” he whispered, his voice raw, as if the words had been waiting to spill out for far too long. “You always brighten my days.”

Your thumb grazed over his knuckles, and you could feel the tension in his body, the weight he carried that no one else seemed to notice. You didn’t know what haunted him, but you understood his silence. His need for peace, for escape. For someone who saw him without the world’s filter.

“You don’t have to tell me, Satoru.” you whispered, your doe eyes meeting his, full of quiet understanding. He was sure his heart skips a beat at the purr the way you say his name. “I don’t need to know everything to care about you.”

For a moment, his guard slipped entirely. His eyes softened, and there, in the flickering light of the room, Gojo Satoru—the strongest, the untouchable sorcerer, he let himself be vulnerable. He wasn’t looking for answers, for explanations, or validation. He was looking for you. For the connection you offered so freely, without conditions, without needing to know who he truly was.

And in that moment, in your arms, he realized it didn’t matter if you knew nothing about the Jujutsu world. You understood him in ways that no one else ever could.

And for him, that was everything.

"I thought I was fine on my own, hm?" he murmured, his voice low, almost broken. "But it gets lonely, even for someone like me."

You didn’t answer right away, instead, you leaned forward, your lips grazing the shell of his ear as you whispered, "You don’t always have to be alone."

That was all it took. He exhaled deeply, a breath he seemed to have been holding for a lifetime, and in that moment, he let himself give in to the need he had buried so deep.

His lips found yours, the kiss soft at first, testing, as if he wasn’t sure he deserved this kind of solace. But then, as you kissed him back, his hesitation melted away, replaced by something deeper, something more primal.

His hands moved to your waist, pulling you into him as if he was afraid you might slip away. The kiss deepened, his lips exploring yours with a desperation he couldn’t hide anymore. His need for control faded, replaced by a hunger that had nothing to do with power or strength, but everything to do with feeling. Feeling you.

As the world outside blurred into nothingness, all that existed was the heat between you, the quiet gasps and the way his body pressed against yours, searching, seeking. For once, Satoru Gojo Satoru wasn’t the strongest sorcerer, or the untouchable figure everyone believed him to be. He was just a man, lost in the arms of the one person who made him feel something more than the weight of the world.

And in that moment, in your arms, he finally found the solace he had been searching for. What he always yearns for. 

Your private room was bathed in shadows, the faint glow of the city lights seeping through the curtains, casting a dim hue over the space as your bodies moved in unison.

Gojo Satoru, the man known for his boundless strength, was now tangled in your sheets, his breath hitching with each rise and fall of your hips. His pale skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat, his silver hair falling messily over his cerulean eyes, which were half-lidded with pleasure.

You sat on his lap tenderly. You could feel your thighs trembling as you sank down onto him, his cock filling you over and over again with each slow, deliberate movement. He always felt good, he always felt warm and fulfilling. Kind and tender. He was everything beyond the world. He was the world to you.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, fingers digging into your skin as he groaned, the sound of his voice vibrating through your core. He was writhing beneath you, his usual composed demeanor completely shattered as he surrendered to the sensations you were giving him.

A soft smirk tugged at your lips as you barely rocked your hips, just enough to keep him on edge but nowhere near the pace he craved. Satoru was a masochist in that way, you like to think. He adored this state, being beneath you. He adores it, giving someone the wheel to drive.

You could feel him trembling under your touch, his muscles tensing as he resisted the urge to buck his hips into you, to take control. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He wanted you to ruin him, to comfort him, to take over him. To take care of him. That's what he had been so blunt about when you first met.

And yet, Gojo Satoru liked power. You could feel it the moment he walked in your life. He had always thrived on dominance, on control, on being the one who dictated the pace. In the world outside these walls, he was untouchable, indomitable. But here, in your arms, in your bed, he was something else entirely. He was human, like everybody else. Vulnerable, yearning. He was your human here. And he wanted that for all of time.

“You’re so… fucking perfect, aren’t you?” he groaned, his voice strained, as if he was holding onto his last threads of restraint. His eyes flickered up to yours, wide with desperation, his pupils blown with lust. “Please……make me cum. Dry me up. Please. Please….”

You leaned forward, your hands resting on his chest as you rolled your hips slowly, watching him unravel beneath you. His breath came out in sharp gasps, his body trembling with need as his fingers slid up your sides, desperate for more, desperate for you. He needed to be cared for, to be spoiled. He had always sought control, always demanded it, but here, with you, he gave it all away.

"Is this what you want?" you whispered, your voice soft and teasing as you ground down on him, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through both of you. "For me to take care of you?"

He groaned, his hands sliding to your waist, but you swatted them away, holding them above his head. His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of excitement flashing through them as he let out a low, guttural moan.

“Yes, yes…..” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. "I want you to baby but fuck, oh—please, just keep going, roughen me up. Oh, oh!"

You smiled, knowing that you had him completely. His body was yours to command, and he wanted it that way. For all the power he held in the world outside, here, he craved something different. He wanted to be the one at your mercy, to be loved, cherished, used.

"You're so good for me, Satoru. Always have been, hm?" you murmured, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his neck, feeling the shudder that coursed through him as you continued to ride him slowly, deliberately. His breath hitched, his body trembling under your touch, teetering on the brink of release.

“Let go, Satoru.” you whispered, a smirk tugging at your lips as you felt the tension coiling inside him. “Let me spoil you.”

His hands gripped the sheets tighter, muscles taut as he strained to hold back, but your soothing words and the slow rhythm were unraveling him completely. He was always so beautiful to you. Yesrs had passed and he was still the most beautiful creation of life itself. And yet, to you — he was most beautiful like this. Being a mess, being loved by you and only you.

"I've got you. Come." you breathed against his skin, your voice dripping with reassurance as you began to move faster, giving him exactly what he had been silently begging for.

He let out a deep, guttural groan as his body arched beneath you, completely undone by the intensity of the pleasure you were giving him, lost in the sensation of you taking control, of being utterly yours.

Just as you thought you had him completely under your control, Satoru’s hands suddenly shifted, gripping your hips tightly, stopping your movements with a firm, unyielding grip. His eyes, darkened with a possessive edge, locked with yours, a smirk curling on his lips as he effortlessly flipped you onto your back.

“You think you’re the only one who can take care of me?” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. He leaned over you, his breath hot against your ear as his fingers trailed down your body, his touch setting every nerve alight. “Let me show you what it really means to take care of you too, baby."

Before you could respond to his words, he was inside you again, thrusting deep, stealing your breath with every stroke. You gasped in surprise and pleasure as you feel the weight of his body crushing you. The intensity, the way he completely dominated the moment, left you reeling, unable to do anything but cling to him.

“You should quit this stupid job. I don't care if you only talk to everyone. I don't care if I'm the only one you sleep with, baby.” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear as his hips moved with relentless precision. “'ant you to be my wife. Only mine, won’t you? For forever! Give me a shot, baby….I know…. I know you keep saying no. But I…I get jealous, you know?”

His pace quickened, each thrust more possessive, more consuming than the last. He always says this to you. Ten years and he hasn't stopped. But somehow, there was that intensity each and everytime. Each and every animalistic encounter shattered you, ruined you—for everyone else. You belonged to him. Only him.

His bright cerulean eyes never left yours, as if to drive home every word he spoke, as if he wanted to imprint himself onto you. You tried to hold on to him, but it did not help as the power of his thrusts shook you over and over in a pandemonium of pleasure.

"I can’t help it. I want to because that's how I keep you but I....." he admitted, his voice dripping with that familiar cocky confidence, yet laced with something more primal. "I think about those pathetic men, those stupid clients of yours. The way they all look at you. Oh, it drived me crazy! I hate it. I wish I could—"

His words cut off with a groan, and his hand slid up your throat, holding you in place as he stared down at you with raw intensity. "I wish I could kill them. I wish I could get rid of them. I wish they would just disappear. I wish I could kill every man in the world to just keep you for myself. You and me in our cage like this."

A shiver ran through you, both from his words and the feeling of him inside you, completely overwhelming you in every sense. He meant every single bit of what he said. And this time, you feel like he will actually go through with it. You feel like he will actually lock you away with him. To soothe his misery, to love you, to curse you—to be with him. Only him.

You knew he did. And that has made you more and more excited. You knew you shouldn't. You knew you don't think you should wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his torso, to pull him closer. But you do it anyway. You love this man, you didn't want to admit it. You didn't want to admit it. But you were in the high of pleasure and sometimes, there is honesty in the way you kerp him closer as the pleasure bleeds you through. And that made sure you couldn’t think straight.

His lips brutishly crashed down onto yours in a bruising kiss, desperate and hungry. And you return it back just as hungry, just as animalistic, just as brutishly. When he parts from you, a string of your pleasure lips leaves both your lips as he drives deeper inside. You groan, feeling his head rest on your sides. He leans on your cheek, the sweat of two birds in this cage blending into one.

“You belong to me, baby.” he whispered fiercely between kisses. “Only me. Let me take care of you, forever. Quit everything else. I’ll spoil you every day. I’ll love you so much, you won’t need anything else.”

His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to remind you that this was your favorite, Gojo Satoru —your frequent customer, your incessant lover, and sometimes, your ruthless hunter. And he was searing it all in your memory. Every thrust, every word, felt like a vow, a promise that you were his, completely and utterly, just as he was yours.

"Say it, hm?" he breathed against your lips, slowing just enough to make you crave more. "Say you’ll be mine, baby. You know you want to. Say it, oh–say it. Only mine."

Your breath hitched as he hovered above you, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. Satoru’s hand on your throat was a reminder of just how easily he could dominate, how much he craved control over you, especially now.

“I’m already yours, Satoru.” you whispered, your voice shaky but firm. But it wasn’t enough for him—not tonight. “Only yours…years ago. Y'know that! I....h—only yours.”

He smirked, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Not like this. Not just tonight.” he murmured, his fingers tightening ever so slightly as he continued to move inside you, deliberate and slow, driving you wild with each agonizingly deep thrust.

“I want you to quit, okay? For good. No more work, no more clients. No more others. Just me.” His other hand slid down your body, tracing patterns that made your pulse race. “I want you to be mine. Only mine. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else near you.”

The possessiveness in his voice made your heart race, a mixture of arousal and something else—something darker. You could feel the desperation in him, the way his jealousy simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

He couldn’t help it, and you knew it. From all these years you had known Gojo Satoru, the one thing you gathered from his stories, from how he bought all of your time when he was here — is that he wasn’t used to sharing, and when it came to you, there was no middle ground. Nothing will stop him.

“Please…....” you started, but your words were cut off as his lips crashed down onto yours again, silencing any protest. His kiss was bruising, demanding, and when he pulled back, his expression was fierce.

“Say it, hm?” he demanded, his voice low, sending a shiver down your spine. His hips picked up speed again, his thrusts hard and purposeful. “Say you’ll quit. Say you’ll be mine, that you’ll be my pretty little wife. I need to hear it.”

You bit your lip, your mind reeling from the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you, your body practically melting beneath him. His hand slid down from your throat to your waist, gripping you tightly as he drove into you harder, relentless in his pursuit of your submission.

“I hate it.” he groaned, his words laced with frustration and desire. “I hate everyone else. I hate them. I need them gone. I need them to leave you alone. I need you. Just you.”

“Satoru, oh….” you gasped, your fingers digging into his arms as you tried to hold on, tried to ground yourself in the storm of his possessiveness. He was everywhere. His touch, his breath, the weight of his body pinning you down—it was all too much, and yet not enough. You needed more, craved it, and he knew it.

“You want to belong to me. You promised. ” he whispered harshly, his pace quickening as he drove you closer to the edge. “So, uh, just come with me. Let me take care of everything. Let those old geezers cry about tradition. I don't care about their tears. I want you. You won’t need anything else but me.”

The sheer force of his words, the conviction in his voice, pushed you closer and closer to the depths of this house of cards. In his arms. No matter how it falls. You surrendered to fate. To him. You always have. And again, you will. It wasn’t just about possession—it was about his need to keep you safe, to protect you from the world, even from his own jealousy. And you wanted him to continue. Because you loved him. More than you could even understand. You were trapped in that the moment his eyes burned yours.

“I’ll spoil you every day, little wife. My baby.” he promised between ragged breaths, his pace relentless now, his grip tightening around you as his body trembled with the strain of holding back. “Just say it. Say you’re mine, forever.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt yourself teetering on the brink, his words and his touch driving you to the edge of pleasure and submission. You met his gaze, your voice shaky but resolute as you whispered the words he needed to hear.

“I’m yours, Satoru. Only yours. Forever.”

At that moment, the tension in him broke. His hands gripped your hips possessively as he took you completely, a deep, guttural groan escaping his throat as he claimed you fully. The intensity of it all—his desire, his need, his jealousy consumed you both, and you felt yourself unravel beneath him.

He held you tightly as you both came undone together, his forehead resting against yours as his breathing slowed, the aftermath of the storm leaving you both trembling and sated.

“Mine. You.” he whispered softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before. His voice was quieter now, filled with something softer, more vulnerable. “You’re mine. And I’ll take care of you. Always.”

You could feel the truth in his words, the promise behind them, and as you lay there in his arms, you realized just how deep his love ran—possessive, yes, but also protective, unwavering in its devotion.

And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you knew he meant every word. You both don’t have to be alone in this world. Even if you both are locked up alone in this cage only for two. Even in a house of cards. As long if its you. If you're together. That's enough for Satoru. And it's enough for you.

"I love you." Gojo Satoru whipers to you.

You do not say it back to him.

But he knew, the pull of your arms on his chest was more than enough.

[whoskimii]

THE OTHER WAY 'ROUND !! - GOJO SATORU

yeah, sure, we all know about bratty reader but can we please settle down for a second and think about bratty 'toru ? thank you.

★ BRATTY! 'TORU who loves blinking his pretty blue eyes at you to coax you into having sex with him for the umpteenth time this week.

★ BRATTY! 'TORU who pouts whenever you refuse or give him an excuse. what do you mean you're too tired ?

★ BRATTY! 'TORU whose eyes light up whenever you finally give in into his cute little pleas. you're so good to him.

★ BRATTY! 'TORU who drools against your neck whenever you fuck him senseless and annoys you on purpose when you ride him 'cause poor baby wants you to fuck him out of his gushy mind :(

★ BRATTY! 'TORU who thanks you when you let him cum inside your soft pussy for the fourth time in a row.

"ngh !" satoru let out a slutty little moan as you rode him with enthusiasm. "mommy, s'too much..." you rolled your eyes at him. "s'not even been a minute yet." you replied, a bit annoyed by his behavior. he literally asked you to fuck him and now, he can't take it anymore ? aw.

he sniffed and buried his pretty face in the crook of your neck as his pale hands palmed at your tits. "mommy... sorry, m'so sensi— ugh !— sensitive... came three times already..." he mumbled, his shaky voice slightly muffled by your warm skin. "yeah ? aw..." you cooed and tugged on his white, sweaty hair to make him look at you. he whimpered before twitching inside your gummy walls, glancing up at you with hazy eyes. "y'like that, baby ?" you whispered. "mhm !" he nodded vigorously.

as your pace got lazier, your boyfriend huffed and lifted his head. "what're you doin' ?" he muttered with pink, swollen lips. "riding you, i thought it was obvious." you responded sarcastically. "too slow ! you're too slow !" he pouted, grabbing on your plushy hips. "shut up. i'm getting tired."

satoru's eyes squeezed shut as he thought about how he could make you ride him harder. maybe he was just a little bit too spoiled. maybe.

he hummed as an idea crossed his mind. "you can't even keep up with me," he scoffed. "maybe i overestimated you." your eyebrows shot up at the sudden display of brattiness. "oh, yeah ? you're sassy, huh ?" you scoffed. "m'not. you can't even ride my dick proper—"

his sentence was cut off by a whimper as you finally fucked him harder, your meaty ass slapping against his quivering thighs. his eyes rolled back. "there you go," you hissed. "you're just a brat at the end of the day. and a slut."

his lips parted and he had to swallow to keep himself from choking on his own saliva. "m'not...! just— mommy..." he whined, tucking his face in your neck. "m'coming, m'coming— ah !" he chewed on his bottom lip as he came again, cock pulsating inside you.

once he finally came down from his high, he placed hot, open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder. "mhm, thank you, mommy, thank you..."

what a brat.

- masterlists -

- smut masterlist -

⋆˚࿔ kimi 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[gojosoups]

Teaser | Open Your Heart and Swallow Me Whole [18+]

gojo satoru x reader | college AU, 18+

ღ summary: your boyfriend breaking up with you before the start of a new semester was not on your 2024 bingo card, but who better to comfort you than your brother's best friend — or two?

a/n: I acc suck as dialouges and at smut, lord help me fr, also art credits to narutoss.ramen

taglist: open

“Has he touched you here?” your breath hitches as you feel a hand sneaking underneath your skirt, trailing up and down your thigh in anticipation. 

Looking up at him through dazed eyes, you shake your head no. A pathetic whine leaving your lips as you feel his hands stop their pursuit, cerulean eyes looking down at you. Satoru releases a shaking breath, trying to control his desire, not wanting to intimidate you. You look up, eyes locked with his pretty blue ones as you practically beg for him to continue.

"Has anyone touched you here?" he askes hesitantly, hands grabbing the fat of your thighs, spreading them wider as his eyes devour the sight of the growing wet patch between your legs.

You let out a soft no, only encouraging him further as you feel a finger hooking under your the strap of your panties and snapping them against your delicate skin making you yelp.

"Fuck—tell me pretty girl, do you want me," you eagerly nod, tongue numb in your mouth as your breathing increases, feeling his thumb teasingly circle your engrossed clit through your wet panties, "right...here?" a choked moan leaves your lips, back arching off the bed in his rundown dorm room as you feel the pressure of his thumb finally on your clit.

Who better to show you the ropes than your brother's best friend?

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐒 — do not copy, translate, repost or modify my works on any platform.

[amastarxoxo]

SYNOPSIS satoru gojo, one of the most popular boy in college, plays on the basketball team, has a large reputation of being a player and dismisses most girls, leaving them coming back for more dk why , and you; a depressing fashion designer major, looking towards being a model. one night at a frat party that your best friend, shoko dragged you to, you went to the bathroom to hide away from the party but…

PAIRING fratboy! gojo x reader

WARNINGS 18+ , lowercase intended , cursing , fluff + angst , strangers to situationship (unfortunately) to lovers(?) , badly written smut , fem! reader , slow burn-ish , drinking/smoking , idiots in love , opposite attract + fell first/fell harder trope , never proofread

11:22PM; you shouldn't be here at all. loud music, drinking, smoking, making out in the corner shamelessly. This is not your crowd. This wasn't your fun, it's your best friend fun.

"oh come on y/n! this will be so fun!" you recall your best friend, shoko, pleading with you for you come tag along with her to go to a frat party that she was invited to once again (for the nth time in the past three weeks) "no thanks shoko. i have work to do." you half lied, you don't really have any work but you have work in the morning since you have no classes tomorrow in the morning.

"just this one time please!" she clasped her hands together in front of your face. that's a lie, one time turns into two, then three, then so on and so forth. but you are so tired and bothered by this point that you don't care anymore. "fine, just this once, but i'm not dressing up for anything." You get up and heads intot he bathroom, through the muffled door you can hear shoko's little cheers of excitement.

And now you regret agreeing in the first place. as soon as you arrived, shoko already left to go to her party animal friend group and started heading towards to kitchen for drinks probably.

11:46PM; you’re felt like leaving, but you didn’t want to leave shoko here with no ride and no conscious to call herself a ride home. plan b; hiding the bathroom. you notice that there’s a basement and a unused bathroom down there. you sneak around people and start heading downstairs.

it quiet, if you exclude the muffled bassed music from upstairs, its clean and empty, the bathroom door is right there. so why do you feel a weird sensation throughout your body not to open the door, much less step closer to the door? you decide to ignore it and approach the door, you didn’t hear anything through the door, well barely at least. you grab the doorknob and open the door.

a random girl. bent over the sink base, a drunk dazed look in the mirror as she moans, a really tall guy, looking around six feet tall, really pretty white hair and white lashes, straight up eating her pussy. you let out a small shriek, the girl barely notices but the guy snaps his head around so fast, you could have sworn he almost broke his neck. you slam the door close and bolted out of the basement.

12:12AM; you’re driving home. fuck shoko, she’ll most likely end up sleeping in another guy’s bed in that house anyways, she’ll live. but you refuse to stay in that house any longer, especially not after what you witnessed. it’s not like you’re new to sex, you never done it but you know about it but also you refuse to actually get a front row seat to real life porn show.

you made it back to the apartment, driving your car into the underground parking lot and heads into the elevator. your mind was spiraling, that reoccurring memory infecting your mind like a parasite. the guy’s crystal blue eyes, shining in a bathroom light, particularly blinding you, filled with shock and panic. you unlock the apartment door and went inside; about ready to shut down for the night.

6:12AM; you wake up at your phone buzzing rapidly on the bedside table, alarming you in your slumber. you slap around the table until you yanked the phone off the charger to turn it on. just to be blinded by the brightness. “fuck…” you mumbled to yourself. adjusting your eyes while still squinting.

“hello?” voice hoarse and dehydrated, “hello? is this y/n?” a male deep voice on the other line. “yes it’s y/n, who is this?” small noises in the background, “this is gojo…satoru gojo, you’re shoko’s roommate, right?” you make a small ‘mhm’. “yea, can you come pick her up soon? she has no ride and is really hungover..” you run your temple in a growing headache.

“uh yea…i’ll be over soon.” you hung up before hearing gojo out. yea you’re already tired of today.

TAGLIST @luvsymai @gojodickbig @sad-darksoul @kaemaybae @yukii-1 @juneslove21 @loverzxi

any tags in blue and italic means your tags aren’t working or aren’t on

previous `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ masterlist `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ next

[kitorin]

"you taste fucking disgusting."

gojo satoru gags as he vigorously washes his mouth with listerine, the way he swishes and swashes the liquid is aggressive, and so is his method of disposing it.

"mmm, okay." absentminded, you lean on the door frame, taking a glance or two at your phone as your boyfriend leans over the sink. "i hope you realize that it wasn't meant to taste good— sunscreen. it's not a food, love. it's in the name, since it screens the sun's uv rays. you know? i'd say it's pretty self explanatory."

with a final cough and spit, satoru pants from the mint lingering on his gustatory senses, haunting his taste buds. "how was i supposed to know that?"

"what sunscreen is?"

"no, the fact that you were wearing it."

you barely manage to swallow the giggle attempting to claw out of your throat. "i hope you realize i wear it pretty much everyday when i go out."

he protests. "you should've told me."

"you shouldn't've kissed my cheek that hard then. it makes your skin all shiny and stuff too" you shrug, displaying indifference whilst fighting the urge to burst into laughter right then and there. "now we're late to lunch with shouko and the others."

"fuck lunch i need to get mint outta my mouth."

you respond with another shrug. "it is kinda your fault."

satoru narrows his eyes, petty and childish. "but you were busy calling shouko." you were gushing on a call with her, excited to see each other after so long due to the time consuming nature of college. seated at the front porch and slipping on your shoes, satoru innocently kissed you; opting to plant a long smooch on your cheek to avoid interrupting your conversation—unknowingly consuming some of your sunscreen.

the laugh you'd been holding onto for so long escapes. "dumbass."

"i had to kiss you somehow." your boyfriend pouts, a last minute resort to winning the immature quarrel (which was clearly, in your favour).

"awww, poor you. the after taste must suck." satoru grins victoriously, enjoying the prospect of being the winner of the banter, satisfied with his strategy.

it certainly didn't work.

"boo hoo, next time don't eat my sun screen." you punctuate your reply with a flick to his forehead, one he couldn't predict at all. "must've tasted horrible but that's your problem. was it really that hard to wait for shouko and i to be done?"

he replies as though it was instinctive and without thought, "yeah."

"you need to learn patience, baby."

satoru scoffs. "and you need to learn how not to be mean."

as he glowers as if he were a stubborn five year old, you kiss his pouted lips. "better?" now your phone was reminding you that a very perplexed ieiri shouko was pondering on your whereabouts. "now you've ruined lunch."

he wraps his arms around you. "we'll be fine, just tell shouko we're a bit late."

"but you already ate lunch. sunscreen with a side of my moisturizer. what's next? my face wash?"

"so mean..." he murmurs under his breath, though quick to shut up when you compensate your teasing with another kiss.

taglist (send ask to be added) : @yuzurins, @pokkomi, @chigirizzz

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

a/n. i lied, the jjk debut isn't nanami (take a messy gojo drabble in the mean time that i got inspired by an intrusive thought) (also unproofread)

[reztoru]

mdni 18+

tw / cw : smut, choking but gojo is on the recieving end, he cums inside oops

Satoru has had you sitting on his lap, riding him ever since he got home. Telling you, "You gotta work for it," but isn't it his job to do the heavy lifting? You sit pretty, and he takes care of you? Well, that's how it usually goes. However, tonight is different. But that doesn't mean you won't whine about it the whole time.

Pressing your hand against his chest and bringing your hips down to slam against his, all while keeping yourself propped up on your feet. As your thighs start to tense up, you know they'll be sore later, but who cares when your pretty boyfriend is letting you use his dick as your personal fuck toy. But it would be even better if he helped out a little, right?

"Fuck me, fuck- Please- please." You whine to him.

He begins to give in only when your hand slithers up his chest and wraps itself around his neck. Giving him a little squeeze. You feel his dick twitch inside you, followed by a groan and some pathetic moans. Feeling his fingers digging into your hips as he gives you a little thrust.

As your pussy tightens around him, his hips start to stutter and his resolve begins to weaken. And he quickly moves his hands to cup your ass. Digging his heels into the bed before plunging into you.

The sound of sloppy sex filling the room. A swirl of your sloshy pussy paired with skin colliding. As Satoru's moans blend seamlessly with yours, adding to the intensity of the moment.

"so good, toru… s'good. Feels s'good."

He moves his hands from your sides to hold the back of your neck, while sliding the other around your waist. Pulling your face down to his as your hand still grips his throat. Your lashes flutter as you feel him shoot his load inside you. Feeling your slick drizzle down to coat his balls.

And after letting out a final moan, you collapse on top of him. Both too tired to get up just yet, you decide to stay like that for a while. With Satoru running his fingers over the grooves on your back, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. Taking a mental note to just choke him the next time you want him to give in.

[celiime]

୨ৎ — .ᐟ Him ‘n his stupid infinity! [Pt.2!]

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁— Continuation to him ‘n his stupid infinity!

[Ps! I did this all in dark mode, so i’m not exactlyyy sure how it may look in light mode? hehe, so sorry if it looks super bad in light mode! it looks okay in dark—so if it bothers you in light mode, then please switch to dark mode for the best reading experience! mwah! thank you!]

╰┈➤ Gojo Satoru finds himself in a dilemma once he discovered that his cute underclassman hates him—without even knowing the reasons behind her hatred! How could he get himself out of this? Well, it seems like fate has it all played out for him…but he somehow manages to go against all odds and making it even worse.

Or in which, Gojo Satoru seems to only have his infinity activated around specifically you, his underclassman, even though you’re no threat and a student yourself! The longer you go without knowing why he does this, the stronger your dislike grows towards him. Why is he doing this? [This takes place in 2006!]

"She hates me, Suguru! Did you see how she glared at me when we passed her this morning?"

"You're being overdramatic, Satoru..."

Gojo Satoru was overdramatic at times, even he could admit that, but this time—he really wasn't being overdramatic! This was a serious problem!

All his underclassmen were supposed to like him, even Nanami (nevermind how the younger boy clearly can't seem to stand being around him, he's a different story.), so why is it that his cute little underclassman hates him this much?

You were too little for all that hatred to be in you body! Where do you even conjure it from?!

A groan left Gojo's mouth as he slumped over his desk, his cheek squishing against the wood as he wallowed in his agony—in the form of his underclassman hating him, despising him.

"Suguru, Shoko...do I smell bad? Is that why she doesn't wanna be near me?" A pout tugged down the corners of his lips as he tried to jump to any conclusion, anything that could pose a possible solution for this first world problem. “Be honest!”

But of course, his best friends would be here to appease his worries, right? As friends always do.

"Yeah." Ouch!

"You stink." Did he really?!

"You guys suck!" His shoulders slumped, narrowing his eyes at his friends from behind his round glasses, just how unsupportive were they?

This was serious!

As the chorus of laughter soon ceased, his pout deepened even more. What a man baby.

A hand rested on his shoulder—Suguru, he was always familiar with that touch—snapping him out of his sulking, prompting him to lift his head to shoot his best friend a curious look. "Hm?"

"Is it possible that you've done something to upset her?" He suggested, tilting his head to the side as he provided ample information for his friend to start questioning his interactions with said underclassman.

Suguru had to fight the twitch of his lips that threatened to tug up into a smile, he knew exactly why you 'hated' him. Hah.

"Yeah, Gojo. I heard from Haibara that she doesn't hold grudges, so you must've done something reaaaally bad for her to treat you like that!" Cue Shoko chiming in, a semblance of an innocent smile on her pink lips.

Oh, her intentions were anything but innocent.

Each suggestion and word was like an arrow—not even a cupid’s arrow!—shot into his heart, piercing his chest and forcing him to lament on their words. This is…extra bad, it’s only becoming worse by the minute!

“Wh—What! Haibara must be lying! You know how playful he is, heh—“ A nervous smile tugged up the corners of his lips, looking between his two friends for reassurance, “Right?…”

Silence.

“I’m done for!”

“What’s up with…him?” Shoko raised an eyebrow at Gojo, who had his head on his desk, neglecting the tray of food infront of him.

Gojo always had a huge appetite, why wasn’t he eating?

A fond smile tugged on the corners of Geto’s lips as he kept patting his friend’s back, “He talked to her.” He could barely conceal the chuckle he felt leaving his mouth.

Oh…well, isn’t that a good thing? They finally talked!

“So? What’s the idiot moping about?” Shoko crossed her arms, half-lidded eyes trailing over the sulking student, “Didn’t he want to talk to her?”

“You don’t get it!” Satoru’s loud voice boomed through the classroom, “She hates me even more now! Gahhh—I completely messed up!”

How?

Let’s go back a bit.

“These vending machines suck…seriously.” A small huff left Gojo’s lips as he stared down at the water bottle in his hand, having went through the trouble of literally almost tousling with the vending machine so he could acquire it, “Such a pain.”

Class had already started, but he was in no rush to even hasten his steps back to the classroom, after all—he’s Gojo Satoru, he can be late all he wants and he won’t even get scolded. Mhm!

That’s a lie. Yaga-sensei could and will give him punishment for this but, he just hates this current lesson, so he’s going to take his time strolling very slowly through the halls of the school.

Or at least, that was the plan. Until—

He heard a few noises coming from the first years’ classroom, and while it is technically normal to hear noises—it is an inhabited classroom after all—the first years were supposed to be on a mission, right? That’s what he heard from Yaga-sensei.

Or at least, that’s what he thought; he was starting to rethink if he had heard Yaga incorrectly because there were for sure some noises from behind the closed door of the classroom.

Look—Gojo isn’t nosy, he’s just…yeah, he’s nosy.

With that admission in mind, he slid the door open, curiously peeking his head in as he looked around, blinking as he found all chairs empty.

Huh. Maybe it was his imagination, after all.

Just as he was about to leave and slide the door shut once more, a small sniffle immediately halted all those thoughts.

He totally wasn’t imagining that!

He scanned the classroom once more, eyes narrowed in determined, before—lo and behold, the cause of his tantrum in the morning.

Slumped on a chair, and…crying?

!!

You were…crying, evidently so, if the tinted sight his glasses provided him with was real, then you definitely were crying.

Did…something happen in the mission?

Despite himself, his narrowed eyes softened, eyebrows furrowing in subtle worry as he found himself worrying for the safety of the first years, if the cause of your tears was anything related to them.

After all, it wasn’t uncommon to hear of a passing in the Jujutsu community, student or not.

“Hey…” He promptly called out, going against all his rational thoughts—he didn’t have any of those—and deciding to confront you, to figure out why you were shedding this many tears.

The underclassman he knew, though very polite and friendly with others, was a girl who held herself highly, one that he’d never seen shed this many tears. This was seriously worrying.

At his call, your head snapped up, eyes rounding in shock—

and oh—

Your wide eyes, glassy and glazed over with tears, rimmed red with the evidence of the intensity of your tears, nose attaining a red color on the very tip…

Satoru thinks this sight may have tugged something in his heart, just the slightest bit.

You are his underclassman, a younger student that he finds endearing, always trying to insert himself into your daily life just to see your worthwhile reactions, always wishing you a good morning when he passes by while going to his classes. And sure, while you don’t spare him the time of the day, he still finds himself doing it.

Satoru was not crushing on you, yet, he didn’t hold feelings for you, but he is unsure if this may be the same for the future. If anything will change.

If the sight he’s seeing right now is repeated more often, then he thinks something may just change.

A sniffle broke him out of his thoughts, finding you hastily wiping your eyes with the back of your hands, getting rid of the tears latching onto your long lashes— “What do you want?” Your tone still held the same harsh lilt, “Haibara and Nanami are not here.” but it bore a soft edge to it, a testament to your vulnerability.

“I’m—ah—I’m not looking for uh..Haibara, or Nanami…” He trailed off, finding it awkward when you were this close to tears once more, he didn’t know how to deal with people when they were this emotional—

especially when it was his underclassman who seemed to dislike him.

“Okay then. I’m not in the mood for you to annoy me, okay?” There it was, the little crack in your voice, “Go back to your lesson. Geto-senpai told me your attendance sucks.”

Agh—That Suguru! Does he only go badmouthing him off to you or something? You already disliked him enough!

“I attend all my classes! Suguru is just jealous of my astounding attendance!” He hurried to defend himself, a pout gracing his glossy lips once more. However—this moment wasn’t really for him, it was about you, why you were crying.

The reason he even entered the classroom at all.

“Weren’t you supposed to be on a mission? With the other two?” He struck the question, genuine curiosity in his glasses clad eyes.

Your eyes trailed down, narrowing in dismay.

Just the mere mention of the mission—how badly it went—was enough to bring that annoying burn in your nose once more, the sight of Gojo infront of you blurring as tears filled your eyes once more.

You were not going to cry infront of him. No. Why would you give him another reason to tease you?

“Hey hey. Easy.” His eyes widened with shock as he saw the tears collect in your eyes once more, “What happened? Is everyone okay?” His tone softened, the best he could manage at this situation, he was never good with emotions.

Gojo would never hold this against you in the future. He was sure of it. Emotions were very dear to him, he understood how important they were for someone and how painful it was to display them infront of others.

He would know, he never displays much emotion anyways. Despite the storm of emotions building up in his chest by the day.

However, you found yourself thinking the opposite.

You couldn’t cry infront of him. You just couldn’t. It was too embarrassing.

But the way his tone softened—

“The mission—“ Your breath hitched, feeling your throat closing up the second you tried to hold the tears back, “went well.” Why was your voice so thick with emotions?

“Haibara and Nanami did well.”

Gojo raised a questioning eyebrow.

Why did you not mention herself? Did you not go on this mission with them, too?

“And how did you like it? You seemed pretty excited before leaving.” He tilted his head, trying to find a way to worm around this without pressuring you too much.

Your eyes rounded with tears.

Gojo’s eyes rounded with panic. He didn’t mean to make you cry again!

Shit.

“I don’t—“ You paused to take a breath, raising your hand to wipe your eyes, “I don’t think I did well today.” The words slipped out of your lips before even getting to process them.

Just what effect did this idiot have on you?

“The curse…it was so…grotesque looking—“ red rimmed eyes looked up towards him, hands resting on your lap as you tried to hold back the tears, “I know that’s normal—but! It didn’t look like the usual curses…”

God, Gojo probably thought you were so lame now. Not that you care, especially when it came to him, but it just wasn’t a good look for your image.

Gojo’s breath, on the other hand, hitched.

God, You were so…endearing. Usually, Gojo would scoff or roll his eyes whenever hearing of someone who’s weak—he’s always been filled with a bit of arrogance—thinking that they shouldn’t be sorcerers. But, in his eyes…

You seemed like the most endearing thing ever.

The sight of you crying didn’t sit in his heart so well.

“I’m usually stronger than this.” You mumbled, gaze drifting down to your lap, “I barely managed to save Haibara…he would’ve been dead if I didn’t act sooner.”

Under the desk, your hands clutched your skirt tightly.

“You did a good thing. You saved him.” Gojo breathed out for the first time in a few minutes, internally grimacing at how awkward he sounded, “What’s up, then? You seemed to be…crying a lot.”

He didn’t like hearing you dismiss your efforts so easily, to cast aside the thought that you prevented a literal death from taking place. This—

This type of achievement was one that all Jujutsu Sorcerers always wished for after the loss of their teammate.

And oh…how his heart tightened in his chest as he saw you discreetly wiping the tear that slipped down your cheek.

“I didn’t—None of my efforts were enough!”

Satoru thinks that crack in your voice pulled at something in his heart, bypassing his infinity and going straight for his heart. Stronger than any curse.

“Haibara could’ve sustained less injuries if I acted sooner.” This was so humiliating, crying infront of your upperclassman that you supposedly didn’t stand. Yet, the only thing you could do right now is cry.

Cry at your failure, your dismay, at everything that went horribly today.

“Woah woah—easy there.” Gojo finally found his voice, startled upon seeing you actually crying this time, “You did your best. This is the best case scenario, yknow?” He tried to be comforting, even though he knew he positively sucked at it.

Ahh—he couldn’t just comfort you from a distance, it would look like he wasn’t even trying to put in effort or that he didn’t care. Which wasn’t true! He cared! Or else he wouldn’t be here.

Swallowing the lump in his throat—wow, since when was Gojo Satoru the nervous type?—as he approached you, taking slow, deliberate steps…almost as if carefully approaching a frightened kitten in fear of startling her.

He inwardly chuckled at the comparison, finding it incredibly fitting for his cute underclassman.

“Do you want some…water?” He gestured to the bottle in his hands, the one he spent almost half an hour trying to retrieve from the vending machine.

Yes, he was giving you the bottle he wasted oh so precious time trying to get. I mean—pshhhh, it was just water, right? He could get another bottle!

You raised a brow at his words, patting under your eyes with your uniform’s sleeve, “What? To share an indirect kiss with a creep like you? Hmph. No.” A huff.

Creep?! Gahh—you just called him a…a creep! He isn’t a creep! He’s your totally cool and dependable upperclassman! Come on, he was totally just looking out for you!

“No—! I didn’t even drink from this, wh—“ He flailed his hands, feeling an aching need to justify himself to you, “Come on! I don’t even share my water with anyone, anyways!” He felt a familiar pout on his glossy lips, pulling them down.

And oh…how you felt your eyes softening at the familiarity of this all, at how this was a stark contrast to the thoughts that were swarming your head just before he came. This was…a familiarity that comforted you.

Ew.

And well, your throat did feel like it was a bit dry after all. You silently cursed at yourself for forgetting your water back at the dorms.

“Fine. I guess I could drink some.” You gave in with a defeated sigh, after much contemplation.

Immediately, his face lit up.

Aha? Yes! Yay! Victory for Gojo Satoru!

A wide smile formed on his lips, feeling a prideful air surround him as you agreed to his request, he took a few steps towards your desk, finally getting the okay to come closer without feeling like he’s breaking boundaries.

And—huh? you blinked, noticing how he was approaching, with no…infinity. There wasn’t a distance of five feet between them now, he was…not that far. sure, he wasn’t super close either, but he was just a few steps infront of your desk.

!!!

His infinity wasn’t on! He didn’t consider you a threat anymore!

Despite yourself, a small smile tugged on your lips, eyes rounding with relief in them, feeling like you had achieved something that you’d been waiting for for so long.

Which would be, Gojo’s infinity being off around you. Pretty laughable, but it was serious to you!

Gojo felt himself inflate with pride at your acceptance to let him help you.

He was so your knight in shining armor! And—

hold on.

He paused, feeling his breath get stuck in his throat the second his gaze drifted over to you.

…Huh?

What’s with the look on your face, and…why did it suddenly make Gojo feel as if his heart was about to leap out of his chest.

This couldn’t be healthy!

But, he couldn’t help his breath from hitching, eyes widening the slightest bit behind his round sunglasses. Because, here you were, staring up at him with those glassy round eyes, the remnants of tears causing them to sparkle, the red tip of your nose adding this absolutely endearing color to your features and—

The look on your face, the awe struck look on your face. You were looking at him with that look on your face. And coupled with that little smile? That smile that you always flash at everyone but him?

He couldn’t help but feel his heart picking up it’s speed, granting him with the faux feeling of adrenaline that he couldn’t even achieve when fighting curses.

Gojo thinks this day is blessed.

Unbeknownst to both him and you, his heart picking up its pace had caused his infinity to activate. That was how it usually worked, it worked in response to the fast pacing of his heart, as this muscle only did this when he was in danger—ready to protect him from any danger or threat.

“Here…” He mumbled under his breath as he held out the water bottle towards you, standing a bit away from your desk, still afraid of potentially breaking boundaries.

“Oh—thank you..”, You also found herself trailing off, hand outstretched forwards to retrieve the bottle from his hand, before—

An invisible force caused you to stop, hand hovering awkwardly mid-air.

Oh.

“Thanks for nothing.” You grumbled, the smile on your face falling immediately as you snatched your hand back, crossing your arms, trying to hide the shock and disappointment that you felt.

What else did you expect?

Disappointing.

Was this idiot serious? Was he actually being serious?! Is he trying to pull some prank or something? Because if so, then he isn’t funny! In fact, he may be one of the unfunniest people you have ever known!

Did he think it was a good idea to humiliate you while you were clearly not in the state to be joked around with? Especially not by him? Ah! This was so annoying! You couldn’t believe he would do something as insensitive as this at such a time!

“Huh?” Gojo blinked at your expression that suddenly soured, gone the expression filled with wonder and only being replaced by the one he’s always known.

Why are you making that face now?! Did he do something wrong?! He was so enjoying the smile on your face too!

That pretty little perk of your lips, he thinks he enjoys the sight of you smiling.

“Come on! Take it. I told you I didn’t even open it yet!” He waved the bottle infront of you, clearly inviting to take the bottle from him. “You obviously need it! Your voice is so hoarse and you probably lost half the water in your little body by crying all these tears!”

His underclassman had to have lost all the water in your body. Listen—you were crying so much…and no way your little body stored more water than that!

What meant to come off as concerned, only rubbed you the wrong way.

Why was he taunting you?! Wasn’t it enough that he literally decided to target you when you were in a vulnerable state and then humiliated you? This man was…seriously insufferable.

He really didn’t…mean any of his comforting words, did he?

Your shoulders tensed, eyes narrowing as you glared up at him, “I don’t want your water!” You scoffed, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. He was your upperclassman, you had to behave.

…No matter how much you wanted to hit him senseless with the water bottle he was waving infront of your face.

“Why not?! I never share my water with anyone!” He huffed, glancing down at the bottle in his hand before looking back up at you, grimacing at the look on your face.

Why were you so mad?! You should be grateful and thankful! Supposed to thank him for being your knight in shining armor!

“You’re so—insufferable! You’re such a child!”

Ouch!

“I can’t believe you’re even older than me! What a lame example of an upperclassman!”

Right in his heart!

“Eh? I just wanted to help you! Why are you suddenly switching up on me?” A whine left his lips as he stared down at you, wondering why you suddenly decided that he was horrible once more. He thought that you would see him in a better light after this!

Instead all he got was…

His cute underclassman glaring at him with the sharpest look in your eyes, cheeks attaining a reddish tint as a frown formed on your pink lips—

A smug thought formed in his head.

Oh, were you embarrassed by him? Hehe. He knew you wouldn’t be able to resist his charms sooner or later!

“Keep your stupid water bottle to yourself! I hope you choke on it!” A huff left your lips.

Oh, you were so humiliated by him. You could feel your cheeks heating up by how embarrassed you were.

Meanwhile, Gojo convinced himself that the red on your cheeks is due to you being charmed by him and his handsomeness. Ha! You were totally charmed by him!

“You think you’re soooo funny? Even Yaga-sensei is funnier than you!” Yes, you didn’t mean to drag poor Yaga-sensei into this, but you had to make a point!

Huh? What? He totally was funny! Why would you insult him like that?! Oh, he’s so done for!

He didn’t even understand why you decided to switch up like this! Gee, your mood swings were bad, hm? Hmph. And here he thought they were getting along.

But no. Here you were, glaring at him with red rimmed eyes, huffing here and there about him and how unfunny he was.

You hate him so much! Gahhh—just how can he make up for any of this when he doesn’t even know the cause behind your hatred?!

“I could leave the water on your des—“ Maybe another attempt?

“Get. Out!”

Maybe not.

At the end of his recollection, Shoko had found herself unable to hold herself back from letting out a loud laugh, smacking Suguru on the shoulder playfully in the midst of her joy, “Ah, man. That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while.”

“It’s not funny! She really does hate me! She doesn’t even think of me as her knight in shining armor that rescued her from those horrible tears!” A childish cry rang throughout the empty classroom, with the exception of the three upperclassman in it.

“It is kind of funny, Satoru.” A soft chuckle left Suguru’s lips, “She really dislikes you, huh?”

“Yeah, I don’t think she likes you, Gojo.”

“Don’t—Don’t say that! You’ll manifest it into existence! She’s just shy!” He failed at an attempt to convince himself.

The two snickered, with Shoko sending a small wink towards Suguru once Gojo put his head down to wallow again. This time, she mouthed something,

‘Buy me lunch tomorrow.’

Ah, his wallet was going to suffer, no?

“I guess…there’s always another day to try, right Satoru?”

He wasn’t going to end this bet here. No, he was determined to at least win just once. Just so he would earn the satisfaction of Shoko being the one to buy his lunch, just once.

Gojo’s face brightened, “You’re right! I’ll totally charm her tomorrow!”

And well, maybe also giving his best friend some support along the way.

“Do you guys think she didn’t like that water brand—“

Cue the groans telling him to shut up.

[ann1eee]

Gojo Satoru is nothing but a weapon.

During the first week of your transfer, that’s what you realised everyone thought. The higher ups, his colleagues, even his students. They all knew deep down, when it comes down to it, Gojo would be a weapon that they could wield for victory. He is the strongest sorcerer, what else could they think of him? That’s what he was summed up to be, even if that’s not all that he was.

Even if Gojo tried, subconsciously, to show off his amazing, colourful personality to the world of Jujutsu Sorcerers, they turned their heads away and ignored it, as if silently asking him to be the strongest, and that’s all. You saw it in Nanami, when he disregarded Gojo’s playful banter by asking him to be mature, or in the second years, who downright ignored him wherever he cracked jokes or played around. Even Megumi, ignored his benefactor, usually annoyed and bothered by his presence.

Because if he wasn’t being useful, why would they care?

If he wasn’t talking about curses, they didn’t listen.

If he wasn’t out on a mission, they didn’t care.

If he wasn’t teaching, they didn’t listen.

Why would they waste their time putting up with him if he wasn’t giving something in return?

Why would they listen?

That’s the dynamic you picked up on pretty quickly; you were smart when it came to social situations. Though you knew they cared for Gojo, and their intentions were not to make him feel bad, you couldn’t shake away the unbelievable unease that accompanied when you thought about how he must feel, being ignored time after time for letting his personality show. He’d never admit it, but you just knew.

So, you decided you’d be the person who acknowledges him.

You’d listen when he spoke about anything and everything.

You’d laugh at his many jokes, again and again.

You’d play along when he made his funny gestures, making your own hand hearts and ridiculous kissy faces.

You’d crack even worse jokes in front of him in hopes that he’d laugh.

You’d buy him the kikufuku he spoke about one time, because you knew it would make him happy.

You didn’t care how unprofessional or childish you seemed to anyone else.

Because to you, Gojo Satoru was just Satoru. He wasn’t just the strongest, he wasn’t just the honoured one, he wasn’t just a tool in battle.

He is the most welcoming person you’ve ever met. He’s the funniest man you’ve ever had the honour of knowing. He’s charmingly childish, and always makes you laugh. He makes sure you’re full after a long day at work. He makes sure you’re happy when you’re with him. He makes sure you can find an ounce of joy in this cold, cursed world.

You make sure he knows how much he means to you. You make sure he knows someone listens to his jokes. You make sure he knows he can share his personality with you. You make sure he knows he’s welcome anytime with you. You make sure he knows he’s human.

Gojo Satoru is not a weapon.

[catsoupki]

當你不在 / when you’re not there (satoru gojo x reader) PT. 1

Summary: Satoru Gojo is slowly being backed into a corner by his father to pick a bride if he wants to inherit the throne, as his royal guard, you just want to protect him.

Warnings: prince gojo x royal guard reader ! soft FLUFF!!! for now anyway, since this is only the build-up for this 3-part (?) miniseries, i’m planning the angst and the smut 😛 stay tuned hahaha

wc: 850

Today is cold, the winds of autumn come knocking at the walls of Oculos, you’re kept warm, however, by the layers that shield your skin from the nipping chill— a tunic in sapphire blue covers your torso, a grey cuirass of dragon skin keeps your posture upright, and a bearskin cap tames your hair kempt. Perhaps an onlooker would’ve found the series of leather that strap around your shoulders and waist to be constricting, but your movement has grown within these boundaries— you were born for this duty.

Every day begins with leading a drill for your brigade. Whilst you stand under the wilting willow tree, you’ll pretend to not hear the soft hums coming from the prince’s chambers as you allow the wind to mess up your neckband.

Roughly an hour later, Your Majesty will finally decide that he shall leave his bedroom to come greet you by the dried leaves.

By then, you will have rounded up your men in two single-file lines to salute the prince. He never spares them an eye, maybe not even a breath. But it’s routine that he comes over to you, blue eyes one entire head above yours, looking down at you with a glint that is softly familiar, and he’ll fix your collar everyday without fail.

Afterwards, he shall go enjoy his breakfast in the hall, while you continue training your soldiers on wielding the katana with sparring and beatings. Breakfast, for you, always starts on an empty and aching stomach.

Today was meant to be no different, your steps periodic as you head towards the first meal of the day, but General Getou stops you in your tracks, “Commander y/n, report for duty in the grand hall. Satoru is looking for you again.” He sighs, “I’ll save some breakfast for you.”

“Thanks.” You say, the wind carrying your voice to him while you begin trekking in another direction.

When you enter the room, it seems that a ball has been going for some time already, despite it being only just the afternoon. Goblets of alcohol litter the tables, and a variety of fruits cover every surface. You return to your post— behind Satoru, on his right. He notices you right away, sneaking past the noisy wooden doors that you never liked, he’ll apologise later for making you skip breakfast, but he can’t be bothered to look at all these women parading themselves in front of him.

“Y/n, do I look fine today?” Satoru teases, cutting off a princess from the neighbouring country, simultaneously ignoring the glare that his father sends him from atop the throne.

“You look just as well as you had yesterday, Your Majesty.”

Out of the entire royal family, the only people who never held a distaste for you were Satoru and his mother, and now that she’s dead, you dare not speak in the presence of Satoru’s father, but you are the captain of the royal guard.

“Son, don’t you think the lady in red is just dashing? I think she’s much worthy of your attention, she’s of noble blood, at least.”

You remain stone-faced at your post, because the duty that you have learned to love comes with the acceptance of people’s spit: you are no more than the dirt on the sole of his shoes.

“Hmm, I think not, thanks father, and thanks ladies, but it seems that I have other more interesting matters to tend to. Have a safe trip home!”

Satoru is used to sending kings and the like home with red, glowing faces. He doesn’t care, he just drags you with him as he takes his exit. And you? You just follow him like a sunflower to the sun.

“You think I could just act super rude obliviously to drive them away?” Satoru asks, white hair blowing in the sea-salted wind.

He looks at you, but you look at Suguru, as you’re still shovelling the cold bites of food into your mouth.

“Their fathers are definitely willing to overlook that as long as they get to have your powers. Satoru, you seem to forget the reason why they’re even here to court you in the first place.”

Loneliness is a cold, unforgiving feeling. It’s not the same as breathing in winter air that makes your throat itch, loneliness doesn’t make rounds like the seasons do, it stays, stubbornly and mulishly rooted at the base of every step that he takes, it’s—

“It’s been three years, won’t my father just give up? Three years, no kingdom ever woos me for real, anyway.”

“What if you just marry someone and divorce them after you get the throne?” You ask, eyes bugged as you finish the last of your meal.

“I don’t want to consummate with a woman I have not a single tittle of feelings for.” You and Suguru meet eyes as Satoru continues to deliver his tirade to the calm ocean. You two will never be able to understand his life, a life of one million suns.

“I’ll figure it out.”

—it’s when you’re not there.

tag list: @hatsukeii @staraxiaa

[mononijikayu]

what’s your type? — gojo satoru.

“Senpai, can I ask you something?” “Ask away.” “.........What’s your type?” You blinked, your eyes darting to him. The rustle of leaves against the wind was loud. “What?” “I….I liked that photo of Waka Inoue, but it’s nothing much. Shoko said its icky cause it’s creepy that Waka Inoue looks like her but—” You start to laugh. “Gojo, you are something, aren’t you?”

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 10k words.

NOTE: feeling a little bit better, no more fever. but im still longing for satoru. he won second place in the last poll, so his story has to be contrasting sukuna!!! thank you for still reading my works and healing with me. it's really healing to just take time and see him be the silly man he is. i love him so much, guys. so so much!!!

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u s and t h e m

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November 2005

IT'S ALMOST BEEN SIX MONTHS AND SOMEHOW HE STILL DOESN’T KNOW YOU. And because of this he doesn’t think he can sleep at night. You were Gojo Satoru's senpai, a figure shrouded in mystery and calm that even he, with all his power and insight, could not easily unravel. To Satoru, you were more of an enigma than he could ever hope to be—a person who never spoke more than necessary, and when you did, it was with careful precision, revealing only what was directly asked.

You were a Zen'in by blood, yet you never uttered a word of reproach against your relatives, despite their reputation. It was no secret that the Zen'in clan was a place of harshness and cruelty, but you kept your thoughts tightly sealed, never letting your personal feelings slip. Not even with discontent, it somehow never found a way out of your lips. Your life outside of missions and the classroom was a locked box that Satoru could never open.

Gojo Satoru can’t help it, but he often finds himself wondering about you. Your restraint, your quiet strength. Everything about you was so unlike him, so tranquil and graceful and yet, in some ways, it was what made you so fascinating to him. He knew you didn’t like the higher–ups, nor the clan elders; it was in the way your deep purple eyes would narrow ever so slightly during meetings, in the subtle tension in your posture.

But you never voiced your displeasure, not even in private. Yaga–sensei thinks you got that from your father. And you were too much like him. It was unquestionable, unshakable, vibrant loyalty to the jujutsu world, but Gojo Satoru couldn't tell whether it was out of duty, fear, or something else entirely.

For someone like Gojo Satoru, who thrived on breaking down barriers and challenging the status quo the moment he was born, your unwavering silence on certain matters was almost infuriating. He doesn’t think you were that way when you were born either. But perhaps he was used to being the one who held all the cards, who saw through people with ease.

Yet with you, he was left guessing, speculating. You were the aloof cloud he can never understand. Even when he tried to prod for more, you would give him just enough to satisfy his immediate curiosity but never enough to truly understand you. And that’s what he wanted. He wanted to understand you. To get to know you. To be close to you.

It wasn't that you were cold or distant—far from it, he thinks. You were always there, always supportive when it mattered. Maybe even more than Yaga–sensei sometimes. But you kept your past, your thoughts, and your emotions locked away in a treasure trove he’s been trying to find. And just as always, it was leaving Satoru to wonder what kind of experiences shaped the person you were. Were you haunted by the same ghosts that plagued him, or was your silence a shield against something far darker?

To him, you were like a mirror that reflected his own complexities. The first in centuries to be born with the gift of Ryomen Hiromi, the only heir of the Zen’in clan in its lifetime. But maybe you were someone with a filter that softens the edges. You represented a kind of strength that didn’t need to flaunt itself—a quiet resilience that came from facing the world with resolve and not letting it change who you were at your core.

In a world full of curses and chaos, where everyone had their demons, you remained the one riddle Gojo Satoru couldn’t solve. A mystery he wished to solve. And perhaps that was why, despite all his power and knowledge, he found himself drawn to you again and again, in search of the answer to the question that haunted him the most: Who were you, really? Who was this senpai he looked up to the most?

The room was quiet, save for the sound of Gojo Satoru's footsteps as he paced back and forth. His restless energy filled the space, making it impossible for Geto Suguru to focus on his book. After a few more laps, Suguru finally had enough and gave up, placing the book aside.

"Satoru, would you stop that? You're making me dizzy." Suguru said, rubbing his temples in frustration. “And now the book feels moot to your annoying footsteps.”

Satoru paused mid-step, looking at Suguru with a pout. "I can't help it! I’m just too curious about them. They’re always so secretive."

Ieiri Shoko, who had been watching the scene unfold from her spot on the couch, took a drag from her cigarette before chiming in. "Let him be, Suguru. At least he’ll burn off some of that energy. We might actually get some peace and quiet later."

Satoru shot her a playful glare. "I’m not that bad."

Shoko raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue the point. Instead, she leaned back and let out a soft sigh, enjoying the rare moment of levity. "Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that."

Suguru, however, wasn’t quite done. "You shouldn’t pry into their life, Satoru. That’s their business, not ours."

Satoru crossed his arms, his curiosity still burning brightly in his eyes. "But they never talk about anything! Don't you want to know more about them?"

Shoko nodded in agreement with Suguru. "I do, but it’s not our place to dig into their past. If they want to share something, they will. Until then, we respect their privacy."

Satoru sighed, his excitement dimming slightly. He knew they were right, but it didn’t make it any easier. There was something about the mystery that you carried with you that kept pulling him in, a puzzle that he was desperate to solve.

"Fine." he conceded, plopping down on the couch next to Shoko. "But it doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep wondering."

Suguru chuckled, shaking his head. "Knowing you, that’s as close to restraint as we’re going to get."

Shoko smirked and gave Satoru a light tap on the head. "Just don’t let it consume you, alright?"

Satoru grinned, though the curiosity still lingered in his expression. "No promises.”

Satoru leaned back on the couch, trying to shake off his curiosity about you, but it was harder than he expected. His mind kept wandering back to the mystery that was his strong, dependable senpai. Despite the warnings from Suguru and Shoko, he couldn't help himself.

"Come on, Suguru, don’t you wonder about anything? Like, what type of women they’re into?" Satoru suddenly asked, unable to keep the question to himself any longer.

Suguru rolled his eyes, clearly not interested in entertaining Satoru’s curiosity any further. He has had enough for a whole day already. He sighed. "Satoru, seriously? I thought you put it to rest already!”

“But I wanna know more about them. What’s their favorite mochi? Do they like coffee? What’s their favorite cafe? Do they like idols? What’s their type—”

“Satoru, stop—Ah, my ear! That was so loud!”

“Suguboo!” The blue eyed sorcerer cried as he leaned against Suguru’s shoulder as Suguru groaned with exasperation, trying to get Satoru off him.

But Shoko, who had been lazily biting the lollipop in her mouth, suddenly perked up at the sight.  A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes as she pulled out her flip phone, her fingers typing away with practiced ease. 

Satoru noticed and immediately scooted closer. "Wait, Shoko, what are you doing? Do you know something? Don’t tell me you have senpai’s number. Are you texting them? Tell me! I’m dying here!"

Shoko grinned, enjoying the moment as she finished typing. She flipped the phone around, showing Satoru the screen.

His cerulean. eyes zeroed in on the contact name: Utahime–senpai. Then, underneath, a simple message: Eh? Hm…..Yuki–senpai asked them one time, and Yuki-senpai said that they answered Norika Fujiwara—that’s our senpai’s type, which bummed Yuki-senpai. She's not senpai's type.’

"Yuki-senpai, the special grade abroad?"

"I guess so." Shoko retorted back to Suguru. "Apparently she and our senpai's close."

"Hm, that makes sense." Suguru nodded back at his friend. "Huh, I never expected that senpai would be into women. Good for them."

"Right?" Shoko grinned back at the long haired sorcerer. "Women are the best!"

For a moment, Satoru just stared, processing the information. "Wait, Norika Fujiwara? That’s…" 

"Yup." Shoko said, her grin widening as she leaned back, clearly amused by his reaction.

Satoru’s eyes widened as it finally hit him. "Our senpai… is into women?"

Shoko chuckled as Suguru shot her a mildly disapproving look, but even he couldn't suppress a small smile.  "You know, this makes sense now. Kyoto High has K-1 events on their TV. And Norika Fujiwara's on the programs sometimes."

"Heh, you're right!" Shoko grins at her friend. "I wonder if they only watch for Noriko Fujiwara."

"I don't think our Senpai's that shallow, Shoko."

"Well anyway, you did say you wanted to know more about them." Shoko said, putting her phone away. She raised her thumb up for Satoru. “Now you do!”

Satoru was stunned. He had always respected you as a powerful and composed figure, but somehow this revelation made you even more intriguing in his eyes. "Wow… just when I thought I couldn’t admire them more. They're becoming cooler by the day. You guys don't understand!"

Suguru sighed, shaking his head at the whole exchange. "Satoru, you really are something else."

"Hey, I’m just appreciating my senpai!" Satoru shot back, but his tone was lighter now, a mix of surprise and admiration in his voice.

Shoko smirked, clearly pleased with herself. "Well, now you know. Just don’t let it go to your head."

Satoru nodded, but it was clear from his expression that this little tidbit of knowledge had only deepened the enigma that you were to him. Because he couldn't help it, when it came to you. He couldn't help but want to know more.

He stood up, trying to open his canned soda and sighed. He thinks he feels faint. But maybe, just maybe, its the weather. He feels unwell, somhow. Gojo Satoru sighed. He should sleep more.

THE AUTUMN LEAVES MARKED YOUR ARRIVAL. The next few days saw you at Jujutsu High, filing a report about a recent mission in the Tokyo Metropolitan Area. The mission had gone smoothly, but there was something about the activity at a nearby temple that piqued your interest, so you planned to stay on campus all day before heading out to investigate.

Satoru had been unusually quiet since your arrival. He watched you from a distance, his usual playful banter replaced by a thoughtful silence. He still hadn’t figured out how to bring up what he’d learned about you—how could he, when the revelation had left him so distracted?

By the time you suggested sparring, hoping to shake off the tension in the air, Satoru seemed eager to agree. The two of you moved through the training area, exchanging blows with a familiarity that spoke of years of experience. But something was off. Satoru wasn’t as sharp as usual; his mind was clearly elsewhere.

You took advantage of the momentary lapse in his concentration. In a quick, fluid motion, you downed him, pinning him to the ground with a sigh. He groaned, feeling the ground and gravel against his face.

"You’re stupid to let me have a shot at downing you, Gojo-kun." you muttered, shaking your head. “That was a rookie mistake.”

Satoru blinked up at you, startled by your words, before realizing his mistake. He had let his guard down completely. He sighed, a rare admission of fault slipping past his lips. "Yeah, sorry. I’m just… distracted."

You raised an eyebrow, still holding him in place. "Distracted? What's going on, Gojo-kun? Is it about a mission or something to do with the jujutsu you’re working on?"

He hesitated, trying to find the right words. It wasn’t like him to be at a loss, but this was different. His thoughts were clouded by what he had discovered, and now, faced with you directly, he wasn’t sure how to bring it up. Finally, he decided to dodge, just a little. 

"It’s nothing serious. Just something on my mind that I can’t quite shake."

You narrowed your eyes, clearly not convinced but deciding to let it slide for the moment. You released him, standing up and offering a hand to help him up. "Well, whatever it is, don’t let it cloud your judgment. You can’t afford to be distracted out there."

Satoru took your hand and stood up, brushing the dust off his clothes. He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "Yeah, I know. Thanks, senpai."

You studied him for a moment longer, clearly aware that something was off but choosing not to press further. "Just remember, Gojo-kun—whatever it is, you can talk to me. I’m here if you need anything."

He nodded again, appreciating your offer but still unsure how to approach the topic of what he’d learned. "I’ll keep that in mind."

With that, the two of you continued your sparring session, but Satoru's thoughts remained tangled. The revelation had stirred something in him, and he knew he couldn’t keep it to himself forever. But for now, he would focus on the task at hand, trying to push the distraction aside until he could find the right moment—and the right words—to bring it up with you.

You cracked open your canned soda, the familiar hiss of carbonation filling the quiet evening air. Taking a sip, you glanced at Satoru, who was fiddling with his own sweet drink, clearly still wrestling with his thoughts. You couldn’t help but smile, the tension between you now a thing of the past.

“Senpai, can I ask you something?”

“Ask away.”

“.........What’s your type?”

You blinked, your eyes darting to him. The rustle of leaves against the wind was loud. “What?”

“I….I liked that photo of Waka Inoue, but it’s nothing much, really. Pretty face, pretty lady. But I have to say, Shoko said its icky cause it’s creepy that Waka Inoue looks like her but—”

You start to laugh. “Gojo, you are something, aren’t you?”

He blushes, almost embarrassed as you shake your head at him. “......Is it bad?”

“Hm, not at all.” You snickered at him. “You’re just curious. But I now have a question!”

“Y–yes, senpai?”

“Was it Mei–Mei or Utahime?”

“!?” His face was priceless. It was as though he was a child who had just been caught stealing cookies during the night in the kitchen.

"Ah, Shoko must have asked Utahime." you began, the amusement evident in your voice, "Man, that girl has a big fat crush on Shoko, doesn’t she? She just gave up easily. At least with Mei–Mei, it will be a good five million yen.”

Satoru didn’t respond immediately, focusing instead on opening his drink. His silence spoke volumes, and you chuckled once more with a softer essence, shaking your head. 

“Well, it’s not like I’m hiding anything.” You tout, sighing as you look at him. “But I guess that I’m not as obvious as they come, I suppose.”

Taking another sip, you continued, "I do like Fujiwara Norika. She’s my type of woman. Looking back at it now, she reminds me of someone I dated once. And I think that makes Yuki-chan feel like she has to dye her hair brown now."

Satoru froze mid-sip, and the next thing you knew, he was sputtering, spitting out his drink in surprise. "You… you dated before?" he blurted out, his eyes wide with shock. "Do...do I know them?"

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. "Why wouldn’t I? I’m older than you by a couple of years, you know? And it wasn’t really a secret....Hm.....Would you know? I don't think you liked anyone else from the other clans. But I guess in a way, it doesn't matter, you know?”

Satoru stared at you, still processing what you had said, but then he noticed the brief flicker of sadness that crossed your face, even when you try to laugh it off. It was subtle, barely there, but for someone as perceptive as Satoru, it was impossible to miss. His usual playful demeanor softened, and he watched you carefully, sensing that there was more to the story.

You sighed, looking out at the horizon, your voice quieter now. "I loved someone a long time ago, Gojo. And it broke my heart when she left. But that’s over now.”

The weight of your words hung in the air between you, and for once, Satoru didn’t know what to say. He could see the pain in your eyes, a pain that was buried deep but still lingered, like an old wound that hadn’t quite healed.

"But, Gojo-kun....you know…." you continued, your voice growing steadier, "I didn’t love her because she was a woman. Or that she looked like Fujiwara Noriko. Even if that's what others believed. I loved her because she brought me to life."

Satoru was silent, absorbing what you had just shared. He could see now that your quiet strength, the way you carried yourself, had been shaped by experiences that ran deep—experiences that he had never even guessed at.

You turned to him with a genuine smile. "People like us have the rarity of that, don't you think? Not has the shot to be brought to life by love." 

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the setting sun casting long shadows around you. Satoru finally broke the silence, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "I’m sorry, senpai. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful."

You shook your head, offering him a reassuring smile. "It’s alright, Gojo-kun. You didn't upset me at all. It’s part of life, part of who I am. And you asked properly. It was right to be honest. Besides, what makes us human if we don't carry our own stories with us, don’t we?"

Satoru nodded slowly, feeling a new sense of respect for you. He had always admired your strength, but now he understood that it wasn’t just about power or skill. It was also about the resilience you had built through the pain of loss, through the love that had once lifted you and then left you heartbroken.

"Thanks for telling me, senpai." he finally said, his usual bravado tempered by genuine gratitude.

You nodded, appreciating his sincerity. "Just remember, Gojo-kun. Your curiosity isn’t a bad thing. But some things take time to understand. Don’t be in such a hurry to know everything all at once. Even about me. Just….just enjoy things little by little.”

He smiled, a small, thoughtful smile that showed he was taking your words to heart. "I’ll try to remember that."

You leaned closer to him and let your palm pat his head. He gasped, looking up to you as he nearly dropped his soda. You laugh. “Aren’t you my cute, curious and dependable kouhai, Gojo Satoru!”

Gojo Satoru felt his ears turn red as much as his body. He lowered his head, enjoying your touch on his hair. Gentle and yet tenderly comforting all at once. He wished you didn’t have this much of an effect on him. But he supposed that he knew that he’s not good like that when it comes to you. 

With that, the two of you stood in comfortable silence, sipping your drinks as the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the world bathed in twilight. It was a rare, quiet moment between two powerful sorcerers, a moment where the weight of your shared experiences brought you closer together, not just as comrades, but as individuals who had lived, loved, and lost in the ever-unforgiving world of jujutsu.

January 2006

IT’S HARD TO BELIEVE ITS NEW YEAR AGAIN.The cold Kyoto air was crisp as Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, Nanami, and Haibara made their way up the steps to your family’s ancestral Mikoto temple in the heart of Kyoto. The New Year had come fast approaching, and while you had insisted they didn’t need to make the trip all the way to Kyoto just for you, Gojo Satoru had been adamant to see you. As he always was. He was just that sort of young man.

Satoru's enthusiasm for joining you at the temple for New Year's was palpable, his childlike pout accentuating just how much he wanted to be there. Despite your logical protests about the cold and the crowd, Satoru seemed undeterred, his energy almost infectious.

“It’ll be too crowded, Gojo-kun.” you said with a raised brow, trying to keep a firm stance on your decision. “And not to mention too cold. Just stay in Tokyo.”

But Satoru wasn't one to give up easily, especially not when it came to spending time with you. He pouted, his lower lip jutting out in a way that made you sigh in exasperation. “Ehhhhhh, I don’t want to.” His voice was a playful whine. “Come on, senpai! Me being there would make it all fun.”

Suguru, always the calm voice of reason, chimed in from beside him, hands casually tucked into his pockets. “We’re going to be there too, Satoru.” he pointed out, his tone laced with subtle amusement. “Are we just chopped liver to you?”

Shoko, ever the instigator, snickered at the exchange. “When it comes to our senpai, that big baby is going to be thinking about him.”

Satoru’s indignant protest was immediate. “Hey, I’m not a big baby!”

Before you could respond, Haibara’s grin lit up the conversation. “I’ll go too! I think it would be fun to see how Bishamon temples do festivals.”

Nanami, however, wasn’t as enthusiastic. “I don’t.” he mumbled under his breath, pushing his hair out of his face with a resigned air. “It would be too cold. And I don’t wanna get a cold.”

"Hey! You'll offend senpai like that!" Haibara pouted at Kento.

Nanami Kento turned to you with a blank face. "Does it offend you, senpai?"

"Not at all." You grinned at him.

"See, they don't mind."

"Huh!? But I do!" Gojo Satoru retorted back. "You're going, Nanami!"

"I don't wanna."

"No, you're going!"

"Satoru, don't be so loud."

"But Suguboo!"

"I can't believe I'm stuck with all of you." Shoko huffed, cigarette smooke coming out of her mouth.

Despite your earlier reservations, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through you at the thought of all of them wanting to be with you for the New Year. It was going to be a lively celebration, that much was certain. Even after many times you’ve told them to not go, they still told you they were going. And sure enough, it was too cold all the way around. 

Nanami sighed, adjusting the scarf around his neck as they neared the temple gates. "This is ridiculous. We could have celebrated in Tokyo."

Haibara, ever the optimist, smiled brightly at his friend. "Don’t worry, Nanami. I’m sure everything will be well. It’s New Year’s day, after all. We should be celebrating together."

As they reached the top of the steps, they were greeted by the sight of Kusakabe and Utahime already there, standing near the entrance of the temple. Iori Utahime was wrapped in a thick coat, her breath visible in the chilly air. Beside her, Kusakabe Atsuya was typing away on his flip phone. When Utahime spotted Satoru, her expression immediately shifted to one of irritation.

"Why are you here, Gojo?" she asked, her voice carrying a mix of suspicion and annoyance.

Satoru grinned at her, his usual carefree attitude on full display. "Because I’m your favorite kouhai, of course!" he replied, his tone teasing as ever. “Aren’t you happy? To be graced by my presence, Utahime?”

Utahime’s eye twitched in irritation, and she started towards him, clearly ready to give him a piece of her mind. But before she could get too close, Kusakabe quickly stepped in, gently pulling her back. Everyone was looking at them but none of that mattered to Gojo Satoru who continued to grin at his elder.

"Utahime, let it go. It’s New Year’s day!" he urged, trying to keep the peace. “Senpai’s also here, we can’t cause headaches for them!”

"But he—!" Utahime began, only to be cut off by Kusakabe, who was already steering her towards the temple entrance, hoping to diffuse the situation.

Satoru just chuckled, clearly enjoying the reaction he’d gotten out of her. "She’s so easy to rile up." he said to Suguru, who merely shook his head with a smirk.

Shoko, who had been watching the exchange with a bemused expression, nudged Satoru. "Maybe try not to annoy everyone before the night even begins." she suggested, though there was little bite to her words. “Utahime, don’t mind him.”

"Where’s the fun in that?" Satoru quipped, but he did ease off, his attention shifting to the temple grounds. He leaned towards Shoko. “Heh, love sick.”

Shoko slapped his arm. He flinched and groaned in pain. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You emerged from the temple just as they were finishing up their banter, surprised to see so many familiar faces. "I thought I told you guys not to bother coming all the way out here." you said, though there was no mistaking the warmth in your tone. It was clear you were happy to see them, despite your earlier protests. “It’s very busy here, I didn’t want you guys to suffer waiting.”

Satoru stepped forward, handing you a small package wrapped in festive paper. "No way we were letting you celebrate alone, senpai! Besides, it wouldn’t be a proper New Year without you. Or me. Together.”

“Heh, love sick.” Suguru snickered lowly.

“Shut up!” Satoru slapped his arm. 

You accepted the gift with a smile, though your gaze softened at the sight of them all gathered together. "I appreciate it. Truly.”

Nanami, still grumbling under his breath, finally spoke up. "Next year, we’re doing this in Tokyo."

Haibara laughed, patting Nanami on the back. "We’ll see about that, Nanami. For now, let’s just enjoy the night."

As the group made their way inside, the temple's warm glow and the smell of incense welcomed them. The sounds of laughter and conversation filled the air as they prepared to ring in the New Year together. Despite the long journey and the cold, it was clear that none of them would have wanted to be anywhere else.

You ushered everyone inside the temple, the warmth from the lit braziers immediately driving away the chill of the winter night. The monks at the temple were handing out hot drinks to keep warm. Nanami took two, as the others enjoyed one. Satoru thinks that it was sweet plum tea, but it’s not sweet enough for him.

The temple’s interior was adorned with traditional New Year’s decorations—pine branches, plum blossoms, and bamboo, all carefully arranged to welcome the coming year.  Gojo Satoru was often here as a child, being a descendant of Hiromi.

He can pinpoint the places he had studied with his Mikoto teachers. But he has never seen it in this way, with all its vibrant decorations. He supposed that he was always celebrating New Years at those boring clan parties. 

The air was thick with the fragrant scent of incense, and the sound of gentle chanting echoed softly through the corridors. The bells rang as people prayed in front of the statue of Bishamon. The line was the longest he had ever seen, probably longer than when he buys new Digimon merchandise. But he supposed that it would be the case. The Hiromi Shrine was the most popular of the Bishamon worship shrines in Kyoto, especially because of the performances.

"Make yourselves comfortable." you told them with a smile. "I’ll be back soon. I have to prepare for the dance offering to Bishamon. It’s a tradition I have to lead."

“Heh, you dance, senpai?” Shoko questioned, drinking her plum tea. “Just like Utahime.”

You smiled back at her. “Hm. I’m a priestess in Mikoto shrines also. Bishamon likes being praised, after all. So, it is part of our duty.”

“Your dancing has always been immaculate, senpai.” Utahime cheered as she looked towards you. “Graceful as always.”

“Does this mean you know this?” Suguru turned to Satoru with a curious face. “You have common ancestry with that, don’t you?”

“I was taught, but I wasn’t allowed to perform it.” Satoru retorted back, fixing his glasses. “I’m still a Gojo, you know?”

“I’ll be going now.” You tell them, fixing the pleats on your haori. “I still have to change clothing.”

“Good luck, senpai!” Haibara says, clapping his hands. Nanami mumbled the same but in a lower tone.

You giggled. “You have my thanks. Enjoy the show, okay?”

The group nodded in silent agreement, their eyes following your form as you disappeared deeper into the temple. The faint sound of your footsteps echoed briefly before being swallowed by the hushed serenity of the sacred space. As the heavy wooden doors closed behind you, a soft thud resonated through the air, leaving them standing in the warm, golden glow of the temple's main hall.

The ancient architecture loomed around them, exuding an aura of timelessness and reverence. Flickering candles cast gentle, dancing shadows across the polished floors, while the subtle scent of incense hung in the air, intertwining with the soft murmur of distant prayers. It was a place where the divine felt near, a sanctuary where the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the sacred atmosphere to envelop them.

Each of them felt the weight of the temple’s history, the centuries of devotion embedded in its very walls. Here, in this tranquil space, they were reminded of the depth of their connection to you, and the unspoken bond that drew them all together, even in the quietest of moments.

Satoru leaned against a pillar, his eyes following the path you had taken. "This is a big deal." he said, breaking the silence. "The dance offered to Bishamon isn’t just for show. It’s a prayer for protection, strength, and victory in the coming year. As descendants of the Hiromi clan, it has to be taken with care and concentration.”

Shoko, intrigued, glanced at him. "So you know all about this, then? In great detail."

Satoru shrugged, a hint of pride in his voice. "Yeah, I’ve seen it done before, in the Mikoto household. But senpai… they’ve always taken it to another level. They’re the real deal when it comes to this tradition."

Suguru nodded thoughtfully, glancing around at the intricate decorations. "It’s rare to see someone so deeply connected to their heritage like this. It’s impressive."

Nanami, still somewhat grumpy from the trip, nevertheless looked interested. "It must be a lot of pressure, carrying on such an important tradition."

"It is. She’s the only third one to hold Hiromi’s cursed technique. So she’s held in high regard." Satoru agreed, his gaze still fixed on the doors you had disappeared through. "But senpai handles it like it’s nothing. That’s just how they are."

As they talked, the soft sounds of preparations being made drifted through the temple. The atmosphere grew more reverent, the chatter fading into a respectful silence as they waited for the ceremony to begin.

When the doors finally opened again, they all turned to look. You emerged, dressed in the finest Heian-era clothing, each layer of silk and brocade meticulously arranged. The colors were vibrant, yet harmonious, a testament to the skill and care that had gone into the ensemble. Your hair was styled in the traditional manner, adorned with delicate ornaments that caught the light as you moved.

The group fell silent, their eyes drawn to you as you approached the altar. Gojo Satoru felt his breath catch in his throat, completely awe-struck. He had seen you in combat, had witnessed your strength and skill countless times, but this was different. This was a side of you he had never truly seen before—regal, composed, every movement filled with grace and purpose.

As you took your place before the altar, the room seemed to hold its breath. The flickering candlelight reflected off the golden statue of Bishamon, the god of war and warriors, who stood as the protector of the temple. You began to dance, your movements slow and deliberate, each gesture a prayer offered up to the deity.

The bells chimed softly in time with your steps, the melody hauntingly beautiful. The sleeves of your kimono floated gracefully through the air, and the rhythm of your movements told a story of reverence, dedication, and unbroken tradition. Every step, every turn, was imbued with a power that transcended the physical, connecting the past with the present, the divine with the mortal.

Satoru was mesmerized, his usual playful demeanor replaced with an expression of deep respect and admiration. He had always known you were special, but seeing you like this—fully embracing your role as a descendant of the Hiromi clan, leading this sacred ritual with such grace and authority—was something he hadn’t anticipated.

As the dance continued, the room seemed to glow with a warmth that went beyond the physical. It was as if the very spirit of the temple had come alive, watching over the ritual with benevolent eyes. The other sorcerers watched in respectful silence, each of them feeling the weight of the moment, understanding that they were witnessing something truly sacred.

When the dance finally came to an end, you stood before the altar, hands folded in a final gesture of prayer. The room was silent, the only sound was the soft crackling of the braziers. Then, slowly, you turned to face your audience, your expression calm and serene.

The group remained silent, each of them still processing what they had just witnessed. Satoru, however, couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. He had always known you were extraordinary, but tonight, that belief had been solidified in a way he hadn’t expected.

As you stepped down from the altar, Satoru caught your eye, and for a brief moment, there was an understanding between you—something that didn’t need to be spoken. It was in the quiet awe in his gaze, in the way he nodded slightly, acknowledging what you had just done.

"That was… amazing." Shoko finally said, breaking the silence, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

“Right?” Utahime grinned from ear to ear. “Senpai’s been practicing this for months!”

“I always wondered how they have the time to do all this.” Kusakabe whispered under his breath. “That was just….amazing.”

Suguru nodded in agreement, a rare look of respect on his usually calm face. "Yeah. Truly."

Nanami, who had been skeptical about the whole thing, couldn’t help but nod as well. "I can see why this tradition is so important."

Haibara, always the optimist, beamed at you. "You were incredible, senpai!"

You smiled softly, bowing your head in thanks. "Thank you. I’m glad you could all be here to witness it. It means a lot to me."

As the night continued, the group moved on to the other festivities, but Satoru remained quiet, still caught up in the image of you dancing under the temple’s sacred light. He knew he would never forget this New Year, nor the way you had shown them all the true depth of your heritage and strength.

As the night wore on, the temple grounds gradually filled with the sounds of celebration. The solemnity of the ritual had given way to a more festive atmosphere, with laughter and chatter echoing off the ancient stone walls. The group of sorcerers mingled, sharing stories and enjoying the warmth of the small fires that had been lit to stave off the winter chill.

Satoru, however, found himself oddly quiet amidst the festivities. He stood a little apart from the others, his gaze often drifting back to where you were, speaking with Utahime and Kusakabe near the shrine. The image of you during the dance was still fresh in his mind, replaying over and over again like a scene from a film.

He had always admired you—respected you, even. You were his dependable senpai, someone who had taught him much, someone who had always been there. But tonight, something had shifted.

The way you had moved, the way you had commanded the space during the ritual, had revealed a side of you that he hadn’t fully grasped before. It wasn’t just about strength or skill. It was about who you were at your core—a person deeply connected to your heritage, someone who carried the weight of tradition with grace and dignity.

As he watched you now, a realization began to creep up on him, one that he hadn’t seen coming. It wasn’t just admiration he felt. There was something more—something deeper that made his heart beat a little faster, made him more aware of your every movement, every word. 

It hit him all at once, like a sudden gust of wind that took his breath away. Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, the one who was always so sure of himself, found himself completely and utterly disarmed by this newfound awareness.

He liked you. A lot. More than he hoped.

The thought was startling, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do with it. Love wasn’t something he had ever given much thought to—his life was too chaotic, too filled with danger and responsibility. But standing here, watching you laugh with the others, he couldn’t deny it. It was there, unmistakable and undeniable, a feeling that had been building without him even realizing it.

Shoko noticed his distant expression and wandered over, nudging him with her elbow. "You’ve been quiet. What’s going on in that head of yours?"

Satoru blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts. He glanced at Shoko, then back at you, still trying to process what he had just figured out. "Just… thinking." he said, his voice a little softer than usual.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "That’s a first. What about?"

He hesitated for a moment, then gave a small, almost sheepish smile. "Senpai."

Shoko followed his gaze and immediately understood. Her usual smirk softened into something more genuine. "You’ve got it bad, huh?"

Satoru sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah… I think I do."

Shoko didn’t tease him this time. Instead, she nodded thoughtfully, her gaze lingering on you. "You know, it’s not surprising. They’re… special."

"Yeah." Satoru agreed quietly, his eyes never leaving you. "They really are."

The two of them stood there in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Satoru felt a strange mix of emotions—excitement, anxiety, and something he wasn’t quite sure how to name. Love was a powerful thing, and for someone like him, it was both thrilling and terrifying.

But as he watched you smile, saw the way you interacted with the people around you, he knew one thing for certain: whatever came next, whatever he had to face because of this realization, he was ready for it. Because this feeling, this love—he knew it was worth it.

"Guess I’ve got some things to figure out," he muttered, more to himself than to Shoko.

She chuckled softly. "You’ll manage. You always do."

Satoru smiled, feeling a little more grounded. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about this newfound love, but for now, just knowing it, acknowledging it, was enough. The night was still young, and there was time—time to enjoy this moment, time to figure out what to do next.

As the celebration continued, he allowed himself to relax, to savor the warmth of the fire and the sound of your laughter. There was no rush. For the first time in a long while, Satoru Gojo was content to just be—content to stand by, to watch, and to let his heart lead him wherever it wanted to go.

February 2010

HE HAD NEVER EXPECTED THIS OUT OF HIS LIFE. In the first months after your marriage, Gojo Satoru found himself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions he hadn’t fully anticipated. Marriage, to him, had always been an abstract concept—something distant and almost inconceivable.

After all, he was Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive, someone who walked a path few could follow, always teetering on the edge of danger. He had grown accustomed to a life where attachments were fleeting, where relationships were superficial at best, and where he never had to worry about being tied down by anything or anyone.

But now, everything had changed. With a simple gold band on his finger, a tangible symbol of a bond he never thought he’d have, Satoru realized he was in completely unfamiliar territory. The weight of that ring was more than just the metal—it was the responsibility, the commitment, and the vulnerability that came with it.

In those early days, he found himself waking up in the middle of the night, his hand subconsciously reaching out to make sure you were still there, a silent reassurance that this wasn’t just a dream. He’d never been one to fear anything, but the thought of losing you, of this newfound connection slipping through his fingers, sent a chill down his spine. It was a feeling he didn’t quite know how to process—a mixture of fear and protectiveness, of love and uncertainty.

Satoru had always prided himself on being in control, of being able to predict and outmaneuver any threat. But this—this was different. Loving you, being married to you, was something he couldn’t strategize his way through. There were no enemies to defeat, no curses to exorcize, just the simple, profound reality of sharing his life with someone else. And that terrified him more than he cared to admit.

He’d catch himself watching you when you weren’t looking, his gaze softening in a way that was so unlike the confident, cocky sorcerer everyone knew. He marveled at how easily you fit into his life, how you managed to break through the walls he had built up over the years. The way you understood him, the way you didn’t flinch in the face of his power or his occasional bouts of arrogance—it was as if you had always been meant to be there, by his side, grounding him in a way nothing else ever had.

But with that grounding came a vulnerability that Satoru wasn’t used to. He was no longer just the strongest sorcerer—he was your husband, a role that demanded a different kind of strength, one that he was still learning to wield. The idea of being responsible for someone else’s happiness, of being someone you could rely on, made him question everything he thought he knew about himself. Could he really be the partner you deserved? Could he protect you not just from the dangers of the world, but from his own flaws and insecurities?

These questions haunted him in the quiet moments, when the world slowed down and it was just the two of you. He was used to facing challenges head-on, but this was different. This was about being present, being open, being honest—things that didn’t come naturally to him. And yet, despite the doubts and the fears, there was something about being with you that made him want to try, to be better, to grow into the role he never thought he’d take on.

As the months passed, Satoru began to understand that marriage wasn’t about being perfect, or about having all the answers. It was about the journey you were both on, together, learning and growing with each step.

He realized that it was okay to be unsure, to be afraid, as long as he was willing to face those fears with you by his side. And slowly, he started to let go of the idea that he had to be invincible, that he had to carry the weight of the world on his own. Because now, he had you, and that was a strength unlike anything he had ever known.

He’d never been one to doubt himself, but when it came to you, things were different. There were moments when he would catch himself overthinking, a rarity for him. Did you really want to be married to him, or had circumstances forced your hand? The thought gnawed at him more often than he’d like to admit.

After all, your relationship hadn’t exactly been conventional. You had always been enigmatic, revealing only pieces of yourself when asked, keeping much of your life private. Even when Satoru confessed his feelings, he wasn’t entirely sure how you felt. You accepted his proposal, but he couldn’t shake the lingering suspicion that you might have done so out of obligation or to avoid being entangled with the Zen’in clan—a fate worse than anything he could imagine for you.

There were nights when he would lie awake, staring at the ceiling of your shared room, trying to figure out how to navigate this new reality. He loved you—he knew that much. But he was terrified that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t feel the same. Maybe you had simply chosen the lesser of two evils, and he was the one left trying to make sense of it all.

Satoru wasn’t used to feeling insecure. He was used to being in control, always confident in his abilities and decisions. But with you, everything was different. You were his equal in so many ways—strong, intelligent, capable—but you were also someone he couldn’t quite read, someone who could keep secrets even from him.

One evening, as you both sat in the quiet of your home, Satoru couldn’t keep it in any longer. You were sipping tea, looking as serene as ever, while he fidgeted with his hands, uncharacteristically restless.

“Can I ask you something?” he began, his voice quieter than usual.

You looked up at him, sensing the shift in his tone. “Of course.”

He hesitated, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to ask. “When we got married… Did you… I mean, did you want to?”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just—sometimes I wonder if you did it because you really wanted to or because it was… the better option. Better than being forced into something with the Zen'in clan.”

You set your tea down, regarding him carefully. For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of his question hanging in the air. Then, you reached out, taking his hand in yours.

“Satoru…..” you began, your voice steady, “I won’t lie to you. I didn’t have the kind of love story that most people dream of. My life was never about fairy tales or perfect endings. And yes, part of me did see our marriage as a way to avoid a fate I didn’t want.” You squeezed his hand, your gaze never leaving his. “But that’s not the only reason I said yes.”

His breath caught as he listened, his eyes searching yours for any sign of insincerity. “Then what made you say yes, to me being your husband?”

“I said yes because I trust you.” you continued, your voice soft but firm. “I trust you in ways I’ve never trusted anyone before. And… I wanted to see where that could lead. I may not have been in love with you when we first got married, but I knew there was potential for something real between us. Something worth exploring.”

Satoru’s heart swelled at your words, but there was still a part of him that needed to know more. “And now?” he asked quietly. “How do you feel now?”

You smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached your eyes. “Now? I don’t regret it for a second. You’ve become someone I care about deeply, someone I respect and… yes, someone I can truly….deeply love.”

The relief that washed over Satoru was almost overwhelming. He hadn’t realized just how much he had to hear those words until you spoke them. He knew that maybe you felt them, maybe you shared his feelings, his understanding. But to hear them? That’s a whole different thing. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his usual confidence beginning to return.

“Good….good.” he murmured, pulling you into his arms, holding you close. “Because I really, really care deeply for you, and maybe one day…..I wasn’t sure what I’d do if you didn’t feel the same.”

You chuckled softly, resting your head against his chest. “I guess we’re both learning how to navigate this together, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But I think we’ll figure it out. After all, we’re together. We can handle anything.”

And in that moment, with you in his arms, Satoru knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, he was ready to face them. Because he wasn’t alone—he had you, and that was more than enough.

epilogue

March 2015

It was one of those rare, peaceful afternoons when everything seemed to align perfectly. The sun was shining, a gentle breeze was blowing, and the Gojo household was uncharacteristically quiet. Well, almost quiet. 

Satoru Gojo, the ever-proud husband and now father, was lounging on the couch with a smirk that could light up a room. In front of him stood Megumi and Tsumiki, both of them sporting expressions of mild confusion and curiosity.

Satoru had been waiting for this moment—when the kids would finally ask about the somewhat mysterious nature of his marriage to you. And now, with Satoshi—a tiny bundle of energy strapped to Satoru’s chest in a baby carrier—he was more than ready to provide an answer.

“So, how did you and Gen–san end up married?” Tsumiki asked, her tone innocent but her eyes sharp, clearly expecting an interesting story.

Megumi, ever the skeptic, folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, it doesn’t really make sense. You’re you… and they’re… well, them.”

Satoru grinned, patting Satoshi’s back gently as the baby cooed happily in the carrier. “Why, that’s easy! It’s because they love me!” 

The room went silent for a moment as Megumi and Tsumiki processed Satoru’s answer. The stillness hung in the air, almost as if time itself had paused. Then, Megumi rolled his eyes in that exasperated way he often did, clearly unimpressed by whatever explanation Satoru had given this time. Tsumiki, on the other hand, couldn’t help but giggle, her laughter light and infectious, breaking the tension with ease.

Little Satoshi, cradled comfortably against Satoru’s chest, joined in with his own soft laughter, the sound a mix of pure joy and innocence. His tiny hands clutched at Satoru’s shirt, his laughter causing his small body to wiggle slightly in his father’s arms.

Satoru blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the chorus of reactions around him. For a brief second, he looked almost confused, as if he hadn’t quite expected that response. But then, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, softening his usual cocky expression. In that moment, surrounded by the ones he loved, Satoru felt a warmth in his chest that made everything else seem distant and unimportant.

“That can’t be the whole story.” Megumi muttered, clearly unimpressed with Satoru’s self-satisfied grin. “I won’t believe Gen–san falling in love with you like that.”

Tsumiki leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Come on, Satoru–san, there has to be more to it than that.”

Satoru chuckled, his trademark grin still plastered on his face. “Well, if you must know, it all started with my irresistible charm. I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with this face?” He pointed to himself, looking ridiculously smug.

Satoshi, catching on to his father’s infectious good mood, giggled and clapped his tiny hands, making the whole scenSatoshi, catching on to his father’s infectious good mood, giggled and clapped his tiny hands with pure delight. The sound of his laughter, so innocent and full of life, echoed through the room, adding to the already absurd scene. His bright eyes sparkled as he looked up at Satoru, clearly enjoying the attention and the light-hearted atmosphere.

Satoru’s smile grew wider as he watched his son, the absurdity of the moment not lost on him. The combination of Megumi’s eye roll, Tsumiki’s giggles, and Satoshi’s adorable antics made the whole situation feel almost surreal—like a snapshot of a life he had never imagined for himself, yet couldn’t imagine living without now.e even more absurd. Life was great, he thinks. No matter what happened before.

Megumi groaned, rubbing his temples as if dealing with Satoru was giving him a headache. “You’re impossible.”

“Thank you!” Satoru responded cheerfully, clearly missing—or ignoring—the point.

Tsumiki, always the more patient of the two, tried again. “But really, what made you two decide to get married? Was it some big romantic gesture?”

Satoru paused, his grin softening as he thought back to the moments leading up to your marriage. “It wasn’t really like that,’miki.” he said, his tone more genuine now. “It was more… complicated. But in the end, we realized we wanted to be together. And so we made it happen.”

Megumi and Tsumiki exchanged a look, sensing there was more to the story than Satoru was letting on. That doesn’t seem to be how you told the story. You were more straightforward than your husband, but Satoru got the complicated right. Nothing about the story was ever simple. But now that you are here, nearly five years later. What is complicated to a whole lifetime of happiness?

“And then they fell head over heels in love with me!” Satoru added quickly, not wanting to lose the lightheartedness of the moment. “Then bam! You guys came into our lives and made more love grow! Like kabam!”

Tsumiki laughed again, shaking her head. “You’re such a goof, Satoru-san.”

“Maybe I am, ‘miki!” Satoru replied, his grin returning full force. “But I’m their goof, and that’s all that matters.”

Megumi sighed but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I guess if they can put up with you, that says something.”

Satoru beamed, clearly taking that as a compliment. “Exactly! Now, who wants ice cream? Satoshi here has a craving.”

As if on cue, Satoshi babbled happily, his tiny hands reaching up toward Satoru’s face, his little fingers grasping at the air as he tried to touch his father. Satoru leaned down slightly, letting Satoshi’s hands brush against his cheeks, a soft chuckle escaping his lips at the child’s excitement.

Tsumiki giggled at the sight, her amusement evident. “I think that’s just you, Satoru-san,” she teased, her tone playful.

Satoru shrugged, completely unbothered by the light jab. “Well, Satoshi is my son,” he declared with a grin, gently nuzzling his cheek against Satoshi’s tiny hand. “My little dawn, my copycat! He’s bound to inherit my great taste in sweets!” 

His words were met with another round of giggles from Tsumiki, while Satoshi, as if understanding his father’s pride, continued to babble cheerfully, his joy infectious and filling the room with warmth. You finally came around the corner, fully dressed to go out for the day. You grinned at everyone.

“My love! Woah, you look dashingly extraordinarily fantastically—”

“Satoru.” You giggled, looking into his deep cerulean eyes. Full of love, full of wonder— for you. “Your compliments don’t have to be that long, baby.”

“Huh!? But how will the world know how much I love my beloved?”

You smiled, walking over to him. You placed a kiss on Satoshi’s massive cheeks, eliciting him to laugh. Then you looked at your husband and leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. He smiled against your lips, enjoying the touch of your lips against his own. When you parted lips, he looked dazed with love for you.

“New lip gloss?” He asked you, grinning. “It’s more fruity than before.”

“Do you love it?”

He grinned harder. “I do!”

“Ugh, married people.” Megumi gagged, looking at the two of you. 

Tsumiki swooned with a smile on her face. “Ah, married people.”

With that, the conversation shifted to plans for an impromptu ice cream outing, and any lingering questions about your marriage to Satoru were put on hold—at least for now. Sweets came first in your family. But as they all headed out the door, there was a sense of contentment in the air, a feeling that whatever the story behind your marriage was, it was something that had brought everyone closer together. And that, in the end, was all that really mattered.

As the four of you headed out to the nearest ice cream shop, the lively chatter filled the air. Satoru, as usual, was at the center of attention, effortlessly juggling his roles as the strongest sorcerer, doting father, and husband with a charm that was uniquely his.

Satoshi, snug in his baby carrier, was babbling away, occasionally pulling at Satoru’s white hair, fascinated by its softness. Tsumiki walked beside them, laughing at Satoshi’s antics, while Megumi trailed slightly behind, trying to mask his amusement with an air of indifference.

Once you reached the shop, Satoru wasted no time in ordering a variety of flavors—far more than anyone could reasonably eat. He carried the overflowing tray of cones and cups to a table outside, grinning as he set it down.

“Alright, everyone, dig in!” he announced, looking far too pleased with himself.

Tsumiki eagerly grabbed a rainbow sprinkle cone, and even Megumi couldn’t resist picking out his favorite flavor, chocolate chip. You grabbed pistachio and your husband Satoru took a seat, carefully adjusting Satoshi in his carrier before picking up his own ice cream. He looked around at his little makeshift family, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and contentment.

As they enjoyed their treat, Tsumiki’s curiosity got the better of her again. “Satoru–san, do you think Satoshi will grow up to be like you?”

Satoru smirked, scooping up a generous amount of ice cream. “Well, he’s got the looks for it, that’s for sure,” he said, tapping Satoshi’s nose with a finger. “But as for the rest, who knows? He’s got plenty of time to figure out what kind of person he wants to be.”

Megumi, ever the realist, chimed in. “Let’s hope he doesn’t inherit your ego.”

Tsumiki tried to stifle her giggle while Satoru feigned offense, dramatically clutching his chest. “My ego? I prefer to think of it as confidence. And besides, who wouldn’t want to be like me? I’m the complete package!”

“Because they love me!” Tsumiki teased, echoing Satoru’s earlier statement with a playful grin.

Satoru’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he leaned back in his chair. “Exactly! See, Tsumiki gets it.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “You are too much, Satoru.”

“But you love me, don’t you?”

“Fortunately, yes. I do.”

Megumi shook his head, but there was a faint smile on his lips. Despite the banter, it was clear to him how much Satoru cared for you and the life you’d built together. Satoru might joke around, but there was no denying the depth of his feelings, especially when it came to you and Satoshi.

After a while, the conversation turned to other topics—school, upcoming missions, and plans for the weekend. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the scene. As they sat there, laughing and talking, it was easy to forget the pressures of their world, if only for a little while.

Finally, when all the ice cream was gone and Satoshi was starting to get sleepy, they decided to head back home. Satoru, now carrying a drowsy Satoshi in his arms, led the way, still chatting animatedly with Tsumiki and Megumi as they walked. Your shopping bags filled one hand and the other, a matcha drink you so adored.

As they neared your home, Megumi suddenly asked, “So, do you think you guys will want more kids?”

You choked on your drink. You coughed. Megumi looked panicked at your state. You haven’t really thought about more kids. Having Megumi, Tsumiki and Satoshi felt more than enough. Tsumiki handed you a wet wipe, worry evident on her face. She took the matcha drink so you could clean yourself.

“You alright, my love?” Satoru asked, fear in his face. “Megumi, get water!”

Megumi nodded as he rushed off. You cleaned your face from the matcha.“I’m…I’m fine. Don’t worry. Just surprised, that's all.”

Megumi finally came back and handed you water. You smiled at him and drank the water slowly. You thanked the boy, patting his head with your free hand. Satoru took a breath of relief and paused, glancing down at the now peacefully sleeping Satoshi, his expression softening. 

“We don’t know yet, about more kids. We haven’t thought about it yet.” he said thoughtfully. “If that’s something we both want, then why not? After all, I think we make a pretty good team.”

Tsumiki smiled, nudging Megumi. “I think it would be nice if Satoshi had a little brother or sister to play with.”

Megumi, trying to maintain his usual indifferent facade, just shrugged. “As long as Satoru–san doesn’t try to turn them all into mini versions of himself.”

You smiled. “Another version of me would be a change, don’t you think?”

“Satoru–san would spoil them!” Tsumiki grinned. “I would too!”

Satoru chuckled, shaking his head. “Hey, I wouldn’t dream of them being like me. I don’t want them to be. Everyone’s got to find their own path, right? I just want them to be happy and strong enough to protect what’s important to them.”

He looks at you and grins. “But another version of you I could hold dear and treasure? I would be the happiest man.”

“Simp.” Megumi snickered as you put down the shopping bags. 

As they reached the door, Satoru turned to face them, his grin returning. “And what about it? I’m proud of being a loving husband!”

“What Satoru said, that includes you two as well.” You smiled at Megumi and Tsumiki. “You’re all part of this family now, whether you like it or not. Okay?”

Megumi rolled his eyes, but the small smile on his face gave him away. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go getting any more ideas.”

Tsumiki giggled, and Satoru opened the door, ushering them all inside. “No promises!”

The door closed behind them, shutting out the world as the Gojo household settled in for another evening. And as Satoru laid Satoshi down in his crib, watching the tiny baby sleep, he couldn’t help but feel that life, with all its chaos and surprises, had turned out pretty damn good. And he wouldn’t change a thing.

He smiled to himself, knowing that whatever the future held, he was ready to face it with you, Satoshi, and the rest of the family by his side. Because in the end, it wasn’t just about being the strongest—it was about being loved, and loving in return. And that was something even Satoru Gojo knew he couldn’t do alone.

[kunasgirl]

ONE MORE !

pairing: gojou satoru & fem!reader

cw: cunnilingus, slight nipple play, overstimulation

gojos flicking his tongue in and out of your needy hole while he holds a vibrator to your clit. you’ve leaked so much of your own arousal and slick all over his bedsheets, it’s practically a puddle. he pinches your nipples, rolling them between his finger and thumb, trying to add to the mixture of pleasure hes giving you, all while he watches you unravel with that devious little smirk he always wears

he loves knowing that it’s all thanks to him, the way you’re a babbling mess, hands grabbing at the silk sheets and his hair desperately as another orgasm approaches more quickly than you’ve expected. he’s been at this for what feels like hours. your legs quivering from being spread for so long, your abused clit numb from all the overstimulation. you’re whining again, that it’s too much, that you can’t cum again

“aw, pleeeaase, baby, make daddy proud.” he coos, lips fluttering against your pussy. “just one more since i asked so nicely.”

and with that, it’s enough to send you over the edge, your eyes scrunched as you arched your spine upwards, thighs shaking all while he helps you ride your high as he continues to rub circles on your swollen clit

“always so good f’ me” he revels in the feeling of your cum on his tongue, lapping it all up, before shifting in bed so he’s facing you, arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you in closer

“just f’ you ‘toru” you whimper as he removes strands of hair from your face to take a better look of your features

“so fuckin pretty, y’er all mine” he coos as he plants a kiss on your forehead

[bxlladxnnabxtch]

Bittersweet Savior

Gojo x Reader

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Summary: Things quickly go awry when you get sent on an emergency mission with your lover. When you both get split up, it's not long before this mission turns into a different kind of emergency.

Warnings: Profanity, Blood, Descriptions of reader getting their ass absolutely handed to them, Near death experience.

SMACK

The last thing you expected when you got sent on this mission with Satoru was to be launched through a wall by your fucking face. But as you blinked your eyes open through the incessant ringing and metallic taste on your tongue willing them to stay closed, you realized that this mission may have been a little (a lot) above your pay grade. The chewing out you were going to give Yaga after this mission might even rivel whatever injury Satoru’s going to tear you a new one for. At this point it seemed like the higher ups were trying to kill you.

You were barely able to stand up on shaky legs and a shitty sense of balance from your clearly concussed mind, but you managed. Alas, you stumbled, hand shooting out to what was left of the decimated wall for balance, as your other hand came up to use your technique. When, again, your body was shoved back in to the pile of rubble you had just climbed from. Your back hit the concrete with a sickening crunch, and a wail left you when you felt pain explode along your shoulder blades and cascade down your back like molten lava. Your head fell back, your neck resting at an odd angle as you sat locked in a world of agony. You tried your best to breath though it, but your chest heaved as you attempted to get your bearings. The next time someone at the school told you to fucking box breathe to cope during missions, was the day you would be put to death for murder.

The curse was seemingly toying with you as it stalked towards you with a sadistic grin, it’s skin a grotesque green with shell like shield formations covering it, It’s armor barely chipping against your prior use of your technique. You gritted your teeth upon realizing Gojo hadn’t returned since the cursed spirit had split you up with it’s multiple copies crowding the man. And if he was having trouble getting through multiple of them, it meant that this was a special grade, and your chances of getting through this one were slim to none.

Your body had become essentially numb to the pain as you backed yourself up the piled of rubble, your hands gripping the concrete as it sliced through your palms. You gritted your teeth, ignoring the crackles of pain shooting off along your spine as you tried to steady your breathing for the second time. Your hand raised as it curled into a fist, focusing your cursed energy into your palm as you let go of your middle and ring finger. Your technique manifested as a slice of wind launched towards the curse, cutting through the ground in its wake as it hurdled its way towards its target. You could hear it howl as it sliced through the air, tearing up the existing rubble and raking up pieces of it with its momentum.

The curse was flung onto its back as it collided with your cursed energy, throwing it across the ground, pieces of concrete and rock chipped at its armor as it was dragged further and further from you. You watched it tumble, rolling over a couple times as it’s hands gripped at the ground in a desperate attempt to slow its speed, despite the blade of wind actively shoving it further. Your technique only stopped when it slammed the cursed spirit into a building, the structure swaying at the impact as a cloud of dust and debris surfaced from the landing. A silence fell over the barren what once was a street, now more of a warzone, but it was short lived as you saw movement from among the cloud. It didn’t take long for the spirit to get up again, and your heart plummeted as you realized how little your technique did to it. It screeched as it got up, the sound piercing your eardrums as you flinched from the jolt of pain it sent through you.

A switch seemed to flip in your mind as you shot up, getting up off the rubble, deciding that it would be better to flee with your life than to try and fight a losing battle. Your palms left bloody handprints on the bits of rock and shale as you scrambled to get off the pile, feet clambering down the pile of blood-stained cement as you pushed yourself off of it, feet hitting solid ground as you broke into a sprint. You stumbled the slightest bit, but righted yourself as you attempted to fend off the violent nausea that plagued your sense of balance and direction. A steady burn started in your lungs as your fatigued body tried to keep up with the added exertion, your feet clapping against the ground as you ran with everything you had left in you.

Adrenaline shot through you when a solid object was thrown into your side, the shrapnel cutting through your hip and throwing you off balance as you were mercilessly thrown to the ground. Your body skidded across the tarmac as the wind was knocked out of you, coming to a stop as you hiccupped, heaving in a futile attempt to get air into your lungs. A grotesque wheezing sound came from you as you tried yet again, the strain in your chest finally letting up as you greedily sucked in mouthfuls of air. A sense of dread settled in the pit that had formed in your stomach, your throat closing up as a sense of panic took hold of you. You didn’t need to look down to know that the freshly made wound in your side was bleeding heavily, you could tell from how cold it felt when the wind brushed against it. You sensed that the absence of pain was due to shock, and that only meant that the injury was severe enough for your body to block it out. Your forehead came to rest on the hard asphalt, your body shaking from the shock your body was put under as you quickly weighed your options.

You assessed your physical state, and you really didn’t need to think too hard as you deduced that you were entirely fucked.

You had essentially accepted your fate by the time you had flipped over, and for a brief moment you wondered how Shoko would react to seeing your corpse in the mortuary. You felt the faintest sense of guilt at that sentiment, maybe if you had defected like Suguru, maybe you’d have been able to spare her the disappointment of seeing another one of her childhood friends exit the Jujutsu world, only this time in a body bag.

SMACK

That thought was quickly interrupted as the curse was kindly launched through a wall by it’s fucking face.

You didn’t even get a chance to process the relief at this development, as you saw a platinum head of hair pop in your vision and a hand come to pull his blindfold off as he stared down at you with those damn near blinding blue eyes of his. A grin spread across his features, a chuckle emanating from him as he looked you over.

“You don’t look so hot, princess.” He remarked slyly.

“Oh yeah, I’m great, thanks for asking.” You wheezed, hand coming to press into your side with a hiss. You flinched at the pressure, beginning to feel the warmth of your own blood flow through the spaces between your fingers. You felt the large divot that was now engraved in your side, and blinked up at Gojo when you saw his expression falter at the amount of blood beginning to pool around you. His signature smile fell slightly, silently examining you before pivoting around to face the curse head on.

“Just give me a minute to deal with this.” He said softly, and you nodded your head lightly. “Take all the time you need.” You hummed, a soft groan falling out of you as the shock began to wear off. You began to feel the steady thrum of pain throb through your being, squirming slightly as you laid on the ground.

You could hear the shuffle of rubble through the soft ringing in your ears. One second your eyes were on Satoru, and the next he had vanished, you barely had a second to flick your eyes over to the curse as you heard him sprint towards it with frightening speed. You saw his figure practically fly through the air as he cocked his leg back only to swing it at the cursed spirit. With a sickening crack, the curses head flew through the air, splitting it’s armor and leaving a stump in it’s wake. You flinched at the sight, tearing your eyes away as you heard its head roll across the dust scattered road.

You blinked and he was at your side yet again, face unreadable as he directed both of your hands over to your sliced open side. “Keep pressure on it.” He said, eyes flicking over your face as you laughed weakly. “Aww, c’mon don’t be like that, what happened to the cocky Satoru that never takes anything serious?” You joked, wincing as you obeyed his order, forcing your hands harder into your side. You struggled to keep pressure on it as you began to shake, hands trembling as they began to feel sticky from the blood.

“Shut up.” He scoffed, scooping one hand under your legs and another under your shoulders as he hoisted you up. A yell of pain left you at the movement, and his face fell the slightest bit as he adjusted you in his hold. “You’re pale, I’ve gotta get you to Shoko.” He stated softly, voice laced with a twinge of- dare you say- concern? Your laugh came out as more of a weak wheeze, head leaning against his shoulder as you stared up at him. “Yeah, I dunno about you but-“ you sucked in a breath of air, finding it getting harder to breathe as you gritted your teeth. “People usually get pale when they’re bleeding out.” You finished, eyebrows furrowing as a wave of nausea hit you.

A small smirk crept onto his face as he shrugged his shoulders lightly, your figure dipping the slightest bit with the movement. “I wouldn’t know, never bled out before.” He said with a huff. You snickered, shaking your head lightly as laughter wracked through you. A wave of pain hit you immediately after, and you tensed in his hold. “Ugh you’re such a dick.”

Your eyes slipped closed as you rested your head against his chest, feeling your surroundings change as you snapped them open again in surprise. You quickly took note of the beds that took up the room, and your jaw fell in astonishment as you blinked in shock. Your eyes flickered up to him, Brows knitting together in confusion as you realized what he had done. “Did you just-“

He cut you off, cocking a brow as he spoke. “Warp you to the infirmary? You really thought I was going to let you bleed out in the street? Wow, you wound me. Truly I don’t think I could ever recover-“ You cut him off with a soft slap to the chest, the action leaving a bloody handprint on his pristine white shirt. A groan sounding from you as you listen to him ramble about your subsequent betrayal.

“Just set me down and go get Shoko before you’re the one that ends up in a recovery bed.”