#infinity + blood trail

[nyamadermont]

Day 19: Infinity + Blood Trail

For @orangepanic ‘s whumptloktober!

Asami pulled at the closure of her parka unhappily. The hand warmers inside her gloves were beginning to fade, and she knew it would be time to go back inside shortly.

But the Water Sages were insistent that she come with them, out to the ice floes. She had tired early in the day of trying to find the right word to describe their anxious attentiveness. Having the Avatar’s Love (a title she cherished and hated at the same time) accept their invitation had clearly surprised them. Her professional assistant had explained how well he had been treated when he arrived a week early to lay in the preparations.

The quiet reverence they received her with told her they had listened when her assistant had spoken. She was not to be welcomed with ceremony or publicity. As far as possible, her arrival should be quiet to the point of secrecy.

Asami took another look around the ice, mindful of how much had happened in this isolated part of the world over the past century or so. Aang’s re-emergence, Korra’s birth and death. This was a place clearly tied to the Avatar Cycle.

She sighed, knowing that the fifteenth birthday of the newest Avatar was a special day, and that the boy deserved to be treated with care and respect. He only had one more year before he would be presented to the world.

She sighed, thinking how much had changed just since Korra had died - never mind since Korra had been born. The lonely feeling in her bones, missing Korra and Mako and all the others had only been touched by meeting Korra’s new life.

How must Katara have felt, outlasting all of her friends, to be the last of her generation. The last witness to Aang’s life, watching the world pass from war to peace, living to see both the renewal of the Air Nation and the flight of non-benders.

Their son squeezed her arm, drawing her attention to her assistant, who had emerged from inside the Southern Water Temple.

“They are ready for you, Mrs. Sato.”

Their daughter came up on her other side, and together they followed her assistant inside.

A young sage led them up to a blank expanse of crystalline ice that seemed to sparkle from lights she couldn’t identify.

He was joined by a cadre of other sages, and with their bending, they opened the way forward.

“Honorable Mrs. Sato, Beloved of Korra, thank you for consenting to travel here to see what we have done. We know it is a hardship for you, and you bless us by your presence.”

They proceeded to enter a large chamber that had been excavated under the original Water Temple, clearly modeled on the Avatar’s Chamber at the Southern Air Temple, not so far away.

In the center of the room stood a statue of Korra, clearly in the prime of her life, probably about ten years before her death.

It was everything she could do to keep from crying on the spot. Both of their children took a breath and clung to her more tightly.

“You are the first outside our order to see this chamber. Even the White Lotus has been barred; they have no place here.” The young sage sounded so proud of himself. “We studied the statue chamber at the Southern Air Temple extensively.” He gestured to the spiral in the floor that led around the chamber, climbing along a spiraling ramp.

“When the new Avatar reveals themself by entering the Avatar State for the first time, their likeness will be molded from this eternal ice, and it will take its place beside that of Avatar Korra’s. Their successors in the Age of Korra will then take their places here, in an unbroken line, connecting each new Avatar to their past lives. Future Avatars will be able to come and walk the Spirit Trail to contact and consult those past lives.”

Her children pulled closer, and she felt them grab each other’s arms behind her back.

She knew they, like her, could only see the trail of blood and sacrifice this place represented, stretching into the infinite darkness of the future.

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. a woman in uniform.

about. satoru let’s you try his uniform on in the bedroom and loses his fucking mind. not even the strongest sorcerer can resist a woman in uniform.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, power play, pussy jobs, oral sex ( m!receiving ), clothed sex, blind folds, some slight sub/dom dynamics, fem!reader. i wrote this with my clit tbh.

i think that gojo goes feral for you wearing his uniform. the whole get up, the blind fold and the jujutsu tech jacket. he’ll try to fight it, the feeling of power slipping away, as you crawl up the bed and between his thighs — your tongue dragging over your lips.

“oh, you shakin’ satoru?” he can see the excitement dancing around in your eyes even through the fabric covering them. he can sense the flare in your energy as you loom over him, ranking your nails down creamy washboard abs while his infinity fizzles away. “poor you. it’s not fun to be on the receiving end, is it?”

if satoru really wanted to, he would flip the situation in an instant — have you pinned to the bed with your clothes askew and your mouth hanging open in breathy whines as you beg for him to touch you. but he doesn’t. he can’t. you have so much power over him when you’re dressed like that and you act like you’re the strongest one in the room. you both know that he has the power to end your free rein over his body.

he is the strongest after all.

your mouth is quick to follow your nails, teeth and tongue trailing a wet path from gojo’s prominent collar bones, between his firm pecs and down his tense stomach. you suck hickies into the bone of his slender hips, shades of mauve and navy-ish blue blooming against pale skin like adding water colours to a blank canvas. satoru inhales sharply, losing control of his invisible barrier just so he can savour the feeling of you ravishing his body with nips and sucks and kisses.

you haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.

“lift your hips, satoru, let me see what you’ve got under all this,” you coo sweetly and it’s as if you’re drizzling honey in his ears. the white haired man follows your command like it’s the law, instinctively bucking up and away from the bed so you can pull down his boxers. “how sweet, you’re so hard.” satoru’s cock springs free from its restraints, sticky and bright red at the tip, pulsing and thick at the shaft. when you touch him and take hold of his length in your tiny hand, kitten licking the entirety of him while you look up at him hungrily through your blindfold… the man is sure he might die. you could kill him like this, with his infinity down…and you’re fully aware of it.

teasingly, you ease his cockhead past the seam of your kiss swollen lips and let it nudge the soft epithelium on the inside of your cheek — lubing him up, getting him ready for more of your torture. “should i suck you off? or should i ride you?” you manage, even though your mouth is full of dick…the next, your nose is buried in a trail of soft white pubic hair.

“don’t do that… please…” satoru whines, chest flushed and heaving, brilliant blue eyes boring deep into your soul. his fists form balls at the sides of his shaky legs, he could reach out and touch you — coax you into giving him more. it’s not like he has any restraints on…except for the metaphorical ones of your will and your control. you let go of him with a lewd pop, a trail of your saliva mixed with milky precum tying you to his sensitive erection. “f-fuck…”

cocking your head to the side, you use a soiled thumb and forefinger to lift the black hand over one of your dangerously pretty and mirth-filled eyes. “do what?” you respond with an inquisitive purr, licking your lips and moaning at the taste of the six eyes on them.

“s-shit,” satoru curses, blood curdling and boiling hot lust spreading through all four of his limbs at the sight. “don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing to me…don’t act like you don’t know how feral i am for you…” saliva pools on the pallets of his tongue, slipping in between the sorcerer’s words as you move like a vixen in the woods above him — sliding yourself into gojo’s lap to position yourself perfectly above his aching cock. “don’t—“

gojo chokes on a moan as you begin circling your hips, plush and puffy pussy lips sucking in the length of his cock whilst it lays flat against his tummy. if he focuses his mind enough, pushes through the dark veil of lust you’ve pulled over his mind that works in overdrive, he can just about see his bulbous, leaky tip peeking out from underneath the folds of his dark uniform — the uniform that’s draped so perfectly over the curve of your mouth-watering body. a deep groan anchors itself in gojo’s chest like the roots of a sturdy oak tree and his hands leap up from the bedsheets to grip your peachy ass barely hidden by his clothes.

“don’t this, don’t that,” you hum condescendingly, as you alternate the movement of your hips — dragging them back and forth, back and forth over your lover’s pathetically wet dick. you make sure to clench your slick hole every time it meets his tip, glazing him in a small stream of your arousal. “don’t you know how to shut up ‘n take it, satoru?”

the dominance in your voice has the white haired man in shambles, twitching beneath the weight of your body on his. for christs sake, he’s the strongest, he brings curses and sorcerer alike to their knees just by mention of his name. so why is he so weakened by the sight of you above him? by the sight of you in his clothes, grinding sloppily on his wet cock? gojo doesn’t want infinity projecting him, not when he occasionally slips inside of your welcoming, tight cunt when you thrust yourself down on him.

“g-god…baby, please!” he hiccups, fighting the urge to force you down onto him fully — bully his way into your squishy insides. satoru could do anything he wanted to you, in a single moment he could have you sniffling against the sheets and crying as much as your cunt does…but the way you rein him in just by wearing his clothes stops him.

“what’s the matter, handsome? you cryin’?”

at your teasing, the cream that oozes from his sensitive tip paints your clit adds to your gathering arousal as it soaks through satoru’s uniform. nastily, he doesn’t think he’ll wash it, he wants the memories of tonight to stay with him forever. he wants to remember how you took over him and took his every capability in using his power — reducing the satoru gojo to a pussy drunk fool.

the scent of your sex is the only way he can think to immortalise this moment.

“i can… i can take it. give it t’me, want everythin’ you’ve got,” satoru simpers eagerly over the lewd, sticky pap, pap, pap of your sexes meeting in a salacious bump and grind. he has no idea where to look — intimidated by the control that oozes off of you, the control that he gives you. if he stares at your bouncing breasts beneath his jujutsu tech jacket or your clenching cunt for too long, he might just bust all over you and his inform before he even has the chance to be inside of you.

light laughter escapes you at gojo’s babyish bleats and whimpers — so you lift the blindfold once more, lips spreading into a slow and sexy smirk, much like the kind he would tease you with. “i don’t think you can handle my everything, baby.”

and you’d be right. not even the strongest sorcerer in japan could handle his woman in his uniform.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[satorusugurugurl]

Malevolent Queen

Summary: During his reign in the Heian Era, Sukuna is used to Jujutus Sorcerers attempting to exorsize or seal him. What he wasn't used to was you. You were the strongest he'd faced in a long time. You were so strong, he had to make you his.

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x FAB!Jujutus Sorcerer

Word Count: 1,507

Warnings: Smut, fighting, (corruption kink?)

A/N: This was a fun suggestion submitted by @sukunasfangurl! I had so much fun writing this while I did my infinity hoop. I hope you enjoy!

Sukuna wasn’t at all phased when he heard a commotion outside his chambers. He glanced at the door briefly before laying his head back down amongst the mountains of pillows flooding his bed. It was most likely another puny sorcerer trying to exorcize him. His loyal followers would be able to handle such a futile attempt.

Why should he raise a finger against the weak?

What he had not been anticipating was for his chamber door to fly open, quite literally off the hinges. Which was surprising, seeing as they had to weigh over two hundred pounds from being adorned with gold. But what was even more surprising was catching sight of the person responsible for the destruction.

A puny jujutsu sorcerer stepped into his chambers. Who was a woman, nonetheless? A woman? How did you manage to get past his forces?

“Ryomen Sukuna!” You yelled. Blood splattered your face as tears left streaks through the crimson. “I’ve come to exorcize you!”

“Foolish woman,” he barked, “you will do no such thing! I, however, will be sending you to meet your maker.”

Sukuna moved in a flash, appearing before your eyes. Killing you would be simple; all he needed to do was rip your throat open with his nails. Doing so would allow him to watch your pretty face turn pale as your blood stained his floor. His fantasies shattered the second he towered over you because you slammed a black flash punch directly into his abdomen.

The blow sent him flying back, hitting the wall with a sickening crunch. He remained still, trying to process what had just occurred. You, a woman, had sent him crashing into a wall. Your body was radiating with cursed energy. The raw power had your hair flying back as you approached him. The sight of you drowning in fury had sent blood rushing to his cock.

“You slayed an entire village! One that so selflessly helped me! Every innocent man, woman, and child!!” You unsheathed your katana. “For that, you will pay with your life!!”

Amid your monologue, Sukuna’s eyes trailed over your body, from the curves of your figure to the mounds of your breasts. Your kimono was stained with blood, soot, and dirt. Despite the gore, your beauty was indescribable. Not only were you seemingly strong, but you were far more beautiful than any of his concubines. He might even say the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

You charged at him again, katana slashing forward, embedded with your cursed energy. Sukuna easily dodged your attack this time, and he was happy that he did. Because of your attack, a crater was now embedded in his wall.

“You're strong, human.”

“Coming from you, that's a compliment.” You barked back, slashing again. This time, he blocked it, grimacing as you stared into each other's eyes. “But flattery will not save your head!” You screamed, slashing over and over again.

Sukuna’s cock throbbed as he smirked. He hadn’t been this entertained in months. His grin slowly faded as you dropped to the ground, spinning to knock him off his feet with your leg. While falling, you hit him with another black flash, a scream of anguish following your movements.

The pure rage in your eyes had Sukuna in awe as you tossed your katana to the side. Your movements were fast, like a viper, and Sukuna watched you straddle his hips, holding your kunai against his throat. He waited for you to say something instead, but words seemed to evade you as your cheeks turned a bright red.

For the first time since you had entered the room, you let your guard down. All because you could feel a hard cock pressing against your ass. You had to be dreaming; this wasn’t real. The King of Curses was not erect right now. But as you pushed back against the bulge, he groaned out loud, smirking.

“I can confirm that it is, in fact, my cock.”

“You’re disgusting!”

Sukuna’s large, calloused hands rested on your hips, holding you in place. “Me? Not in the slightest.” He admired your features, not that you say above him. “Those villagers you were so distraught over, they were disgusting.” When all you did was cock your head in confusion, Sukuna's smirk grew wider. “They tried offering me their children in exchange for safety from the Jujutsu Sorcerer they claimed to have saved.” Your look of shock had him chuckling. “So I just took it upon myself to kill them all. Imagine my disappointment when I didn’t find a sorcerer there.”

“You’re a lair.” You gritted out through your teeth.

“Don’t believe me? I’m happy to show you the letter they sent.”

Curses were liars, and this specific one happened to be The King of Curses! He would lie about anything to save his skin. It would be better for you and the rest of the world to end his life right now!

His words, however, struck a chord in you. So you allowed him to show you said proof, which he had. Reading the words over and over again soured your stomach. How could they offer their children to beg Sukuna to get rid of you after they had sheltered you and tended to your wounds?

“Humans truly are such parasitic creatures.” Sukuna all but cooed next to your ear as you dropped the letter. “Willing to sacrifice one another just to continue their messily pathetic lives.”

His words had you turning towards him. “They were monsters.” You grimaced at the thought of their children being sacrificed.

“The world is better off without them,” he whispered in your ear, “I want to make this a better world for people like me. A world I would like to keep you in.” His tongue darted out, trailing down your neck. “You’re the strongest, most brutal woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of fighting. What do you say about ruling by my side? Together, we can rid this world of these parasites. What do you say, my malevolent queen.”

You wanted to deny him, to tell him that he was insane. He would never stoop to his level, but you had seen the proof, the cold, hard evidence. That proved humans were just as bad as curses. If not worse.

He was right.

Which was how you ended up on his bed, bouncing up and down on his cock. “Fuck~ yes, take what you want! Show me your power.” Sukuna’s hands gripped your hips so hard you were certain that you would have marks there, along with the rest of your body. You would be a tapestry of his kisses and bruising fingertips.

“Lord Sukuna~!” You screamed as he hammered his cock up into your cunt with such power and speed that it had you seeing stars.

“Take my cock~ take it inside that tight wet cunt!~”

“Yes, my lord!” You cried out as he reached his hand up, choking you. “S-Sukuna!” You cried out as you slammed yourself in tandem with his thrusts.

“You’re mine now, little sorcerer. Together, we will rule the world, my queen!”

Between his words and his hand wrapped around your throat, you stood no chance against him. It was as though he was made for you. His cock hit your G-spot perfectly. The two of you fit together like two shards of broken glass. It was hard to imagine wanting to kill him now that he was inside of you. He had shown you the truth.

A truth you would not stand by.

Sukuna smirked, his free hand reaching down and rubbing your clit back and forth. He could see the darkness, the blood lust in your eyes. The desire to rule with him, to make this a world for the two of you! He had never been so thrilled someone had come to kill him.

“Cum on my cock Y/N~ cum for your king!”

Sukuna squeezed your throat harder, cutting off your air as your body jerked, as you squirted all over his crotch and ab’s. The intensity of your orgasm sent Sukuna into his own. His nails dug into your skin as he brutally fucked you. His cock slams into your cervix with each thrust. You gasped for air as he used both his hands to slam you down on him, your bodies conjoined in the rawest form.

Your eyes fluttered, exhaustion from the fighting and the sex overcoming you. Your palms pressed firmly against his chest as you sighed, happy to finally rest. The rest was short-lived asSukuna laughed maniacally, flipping you over, pushing you into the blankets that smelt of sweat and sex.

“We’re far from being over. I don’t plan on stopping until your cunt has every vein of my cock memorized Y/N.” You cried out in pained pleasure as Sukuna snapped his hips into you. Sukuna grinned. You had no one but yourself to blame. You were the strongest he’d faced in a long while, and you would be able to handle this.

[sutorus]

HEART SHAKER

PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader

WC: ~1k

WARNINGS: established relationship, suggestive language, flirting, attempts at humor. fluff, somehow.

A/N: super freaking unedited i just had to get this out bc i can’t believe it’s not smut LOL

“god, you’re squeezing me so hard, sweetheart.”

you look up through your eyelashes at your boyfriend, brows set low in a warning. he only smirks. 

you pump harder. 

“oh fuck, it’s so tight right now.”

you huff in annoyance, slapping both hands down on your legs. 

“can you stop? i lost count!”

satoru laughs at you, throwing his head back. 

you cringe at how loud his movements sound in your ears, the stethoscope you were using still pressed to his skin. 

you release the pressure on the cuff around his arm, sighing deeply. 

“once again, i’m going to ask you,” you enunciate the words slowly, your eyes aiming at his, right behind that blindfold. “why don’t you have shoko do this?”

you’re sure if it were her measuring his blood pressure she could get actual accurate results. 

satoru tilts his head, smiling sweetly. 

“and why would i do that?” he singsongs. “you’re the prettiest little doctor around.”

“resident,” you correct him. 

you wish so badly that he was due for a vaccine or something, just so you would have an excuse to stab him. 

of course, you weren't complaining. you’re incredibly lucky that shoko took you under her wing once you got a job at the school. you weren’t able to master reverse cursed technique at her level quite yet, but you were just as good of a regular doctor as she was. 

it didn’t matter how good you were though, because you weren’t a pediatrician or a saint, and it takes one of either to deal with gojo satoru as a patient. 

“why do we even bother with check ups?” he asks, leaning back on the exam table. “i am literally healing my body twenty-four-seven.”

you roll your eyes, grabbing the light test hammer. 

“what kind of question is that? sit up straight,” you shuffle on your chair, getting in between his too-spread legs. whore. 

satoru shrugs, kicking his dangling feet. “a valid one.”

you bring the hammer down hard on his knee to check his reflexes. naturally, it stops just shy of his leg. 

you don’t even have to look. you know he’s smirking again. 

“turn infinity off.”

“‘turn infinity off’? you’re so cute,” he replies. you try to hit him with the hammer again to no avail. “i need to teach you some combat skills, girl.”

“and i need to examine you,” you get up off your seat, facing him. satoru leans in with a grin. “behave.”

he won’t. 

“wanna play doctor?” 

you ignore his voice and the obvious glee in it, a retort dying on your tongue because you do actually have to carry out a check up, to the best of your abilities. 

grabbing your clipboard, you skim through his most recent health assessment records.

he complained about a migraine to shoko. 

it makes your heart seize for just a moment, to think of all the stress satoru puts himself through to have his technique active at all times. 

“how’s your head?” you ask him. 

“you tell me,” his foot grazes the back of your knee, coaxing you closer. “any complaints?”

a dissatisfied sound comes out of your mouth as you press your hands to his chest instinctively, forcing distance between you two. 

“satoru, please.”

“do you worry, baby?” he reaches out to tentatively hold the side of your face. “don’t worry about me.”

“it’s literally my job,” you trail off, head dropping. 

satoru lifts your chin up and presses his lips to yours for a second or two. 

“sorry, sorry,” he says before you can chastise him. “couldn’t help it. you look so cute all worked up.”

at this point you just twist your lips disapprovingly, putting the stethoscope earpieces back on. 

you press it to his chest and listen as he breathes in and out. 

“satoru,” you frown. “are you okay?”

“hmm?”

you look at him knowingly, a smirk of your own blooming on your face. 

“why is your heart beating so fast?”

at that, your awful, awful boyfriend finally has the decency to blush. 

“and you’re breathing so hard, too—“

“it’s hard, alright—“

“—we might have to schedule some follow up exams,” you click your pen to fill out the form, neglecting the way he leans into you. 

“anytime,” he huffs out, breath skirting on your face where you stand between his knees. “do i get a lollipop for being such a good boy?”

“no,” you reply, taking a step forward. “but you can have this.”

you plant a kiss on his lips, letting it linger for longer than it should as he holds your hips tightly.

he hums contentedly when you pull away.

“mm, smart and generous,” satoru noses your jawline. “how did i get so lucky?”

you fight the sudden shyness rising up at his words.

“the same way i got so unlucky,” you smile at his pout. “life’s just not fair.”

he coos.

“you sweettalk all your patients or am i special?”

despite your best efforts not to, you grin at that.

“the most special,” you say, interlocking your fingers. “now get back to work.”

satoru grumbles a complaint but hops off the table nonetheless.

“thanks a bunch for seeing me, doc,” he leans down to hover his face right above yours. you push him away with a fingertip to his forehead.

“no problem. now shoo.”

you walk up to your desk to hopefully do some actual work now that your most special patient is leaving.

“ah, but i was wondering—“

“yes?” you don’t bother looking up from your paperwork.

“if you could give me some anatomy lessons sometime—“

“out!”

he slips out the door before you can turn around to see it.

you take a deep breath.

you love satoru to death, but you’re beginning to understand why shoko picked up smoking as a stress reliever.

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ tell me about love (show me how) | gojo satoru

wc: 7.4k

summary: you teach gojo how to love. 

contains: f!reader in mind but no pronouns mentioned, descriptions of blood (typical jjk canon type stuff), shibuya onwards manga spoilers, implied minor character death, there are swears, suggestive bit at the end (but it’s funny!), lots of internal thoughts/dialogues, kind of canon divergent

a/n: relates to my short blurb, do you believe in love?, explores a lot on how i think gojo would be when it comes to love; ambiguous but linear timeline (jumps through scenes)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 01. do you believe in love? <- you are here -> 2.5. and my body keeps saying (it's yours)

When Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it. 

It’s unusual for him to be so restrained, being born into greed and predetermined purpose—a one-man clan fated to hold power close to God. There exists a hunger within him, insatiable and stubborn, unstoppable until he gets what he wants. It’s all he’s ever known: to take and devour, simply because he can. 

Yet with this, he doesn’t. He can’t seem to. 

“I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.” 

When you offer your heart to Gojo, he looks at you softly. 

You catch his eyes and see the sky, bright, with flecks of light floating on his irises like cotton clouds in its periphery. It’s different from the piercing blue you’re used to—a terrifying riptide that washes you away. 

It wasn’t intended as a confession, but Gojo always takes whatever you have to say. He commits it to memory each time; how could he not? Words that come from you flow so naturally, so earnestly that the air around you shifts all on its own.

His lips part slightly, red spatterings lining pink inner corners before they close again. He doesn’t say anything, but you know Gojo and the fingerprints of his soul—the way he bites his lips to withhold himself from speaking. 

It’s dangerous, he thinks, how you make wanting something so complicated seem so simple.

He takes a small breath, then you feel it, pressed against you—the faint signature of his cursed energy overlaying his entirety. It tickles your skin a little, the effects of it brushing. You don’t remember the last time he put it up around you.

A million things run through Gojo’s mind for every split second he breathes, but at this point in time, he counts a million and one—one thought that if he touches you by infinity instead of his hands, he can have this good thing for now, that this is the only way how. 

You’d think this a rejection, if any, but he doesn’t move away from you, and the blush blooming at the tips of his ears says more than he ever could. 

.

.

.

The subtle intimacy you share with Gojo grows sporadically, from knuckles brushing to pinkies touching. He stands next to you more often, a few inches closer than he used to and sometimes, still, with an infinity connecting you.

.

.

.

When you hold Gojo’s hand for the first time, he jolts very slightly, as if you’ve shocked him. He’s started to put his infinity down around you again, and you continue the limbo of whatever it is you both are—except this time, he’s made it clearer, just a little bit. 

During the last few leaves of fall, Gojo skips to an ice cream stand like a pre-schooler on early dismissal. You trail behind him slowly, shaking your head affectionately; he’s the only adult you know that still acts like he’s 5. 

“You’re like a horse.” you jest, stopping next to him in line.

“You’re a snail.” he huffs, side-eyeing you, like a child.

You gasp exaggeratingly, hitting his arm. He fake-winces, but that’s all it is; Gojo’s the strongest and you don’t know of any human touch that has managed to hurt him, except—

Yeah. Your eyes trail to the side of his neck, hidden in the shadows of his jawline; there’s really nothing, but sometimes you blink and see crimson, oozing, gushing, leaking—you shake away the thought.  

When he receives his ice cream cone stacked with vanilla-strawberry-vanilla and rainbow sprinkles on top, the smile on his face parallels the sun. He looks cozy, almost boyish, beaming against the autumn breeze blowing on his thick gray hoodie. 

You wonder if he feels just as warm.

(Maybe that’s why you do it, then).

Once Gojo turns to give you the cone, you reach for his other hand tentatively, shyly—your fingertips grazing his palm lightly. You want to give him an out if he can’t take this, but he doesn’t move. He twitches a little, as if he’s been caught off guard, but that’s it. 

His eyes widen briefly, just a bit, before turning into the same soft skies frequenting them lately. 

“Sorry, is this okay?” you whisper, peering up at him. 

He stares at you for a while, his hand in yours unmoving. You leave a sliver of space between your palms–your own version of his infinity–just in case. And he takes it all in: how tiny your hand is wrapped around his, how gently you speak��how warm he feels now amidst this autumn breeze. 

“The strawberry’s really good,” he finally replies, pressing the dessert closer to you, “try it.” 

You give him one last look before you indulge in his request. Gojo’s always been good at that: pushing and pulling—pushing you away with non-answers only to pull you back in with something else. 

But he doesn’t let go of your hand, so you keep yours there, palms nearly touching. (You make a point not to mention how the parts that do touch become clammy for the rest of the afternoon). 

.

.

.

You start to think that your relationship with Gojo is going somewhere, then he disappears (‘gets sealed’ might be the more proper term). 

His absence is deafening. You’ve all lost so much, and it hurts, but you carry on knowing full well that this is what being a jujutsu sorcerer means. There aren’t many left to fight his fight, so you do what you can to. You stay with Shoko, mostly, if not going back and forth with Utahime. You can’t afford to be crying when the students, the kids—you can’t even bear to think about what they’re going through.

Nights are the hardest, when the world is quiet but your mind is loud, throwing far too many questions you can’t find the answers to.

What will Gojo come back to? Then the scarier thought: Will he even come back? 

You don’t want to doubt him, ever, but your mind continues to play back that day, like a final memory. The unintentional confession; his eyes like the sky. 

You don’t want it to be the last important thing you tell him. 

“I should start looking into retirement plans, like Nanamin.” you raise an eyebrow, questioning. Gojo’s never spoken this far into the future before, most especially his. 

“Work is shit now for you too?” you scoff, leaning back on the wooden ledge. 

Gojo rolls his eyes, skipping the coverage of his blindfold today. 

“Well, after I remove the old geezers and change everything, there won’t be much left to do.” 

You hum in response. He does make a point. 

“Also, Megumi won’t need me anymore,” he pouts, whining, “who else will want me around?” 

You try to hold back your laugh, wanting so badly to tell him that Megumi doesn’t even really like him around to begin with—but you figure breaking Gojo’s heart isn’t really something you want to do if you value your peace. 

“I don’t know,” you reply, shifting your weight, “I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.” 

Even now, especially now. You wish you were with him, too. 

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.

.

The day you hear of Gojo’s potential return, you drop your breakfast outside the 7-Eleven near Jujutsu Tech. You’re supposed to meet up with Utahime for a weekly check-in but your feet take you to Shoko, and the footsteps in your heart have never echoed louder. 

This is the first good news in a while—especially after finding out about the state of Megumi and what happened to Tsumiki, your sweet girl Tsumiki. 

When Gojo comes back, it’s like he never left. He pops out of the box joking the same way, talking the same way. He proves himself to be the strongest all the same, and when he wins—there are scars, but he wins and that fact stays the same. 

So, when you reach for his hand now and he moves away, you’re stuck wondering what’s changed. 

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.

.

You let it stay that way for a while, your understanding extending to Gojo the way it always has—you don’t push, and he gives you what he can. It honestly isn’t all that bad, because at least he’s still talking to you like he used to. 

Jujutsu society is still shaken from its core. You and all who have survived bear the task of building everything from the ground up; it’s exhausting, especially since most of you are still mourning. 

Megumi’s been put in an induced coma; you understand why but it still tugs at your heart when Shoko tells you it might take a while. Everyone else has been assigned to sweep through the rest of Japan to ensure that any remaining curses are taken care of. 

You see Yuuji and Yuuta visit Megumi sometimes, along with Maki and Toge when they’re free. Gojo’s there pretty often too, using healing sessions with Shoko as an excuse to see the boy he’s practically raised at 17, with you. 

But while Gojo’s smiles to everyone else remain as charming as ever, you can always tell when they’re untrue. 

.

“Are you okay?” 

You find Gojo a little after midnight on the rooftop of the faculty building. The city always looks pretty from up here—a sea of lights reflected up on the sky. It’s a running joke that rooftops are Gojo’s ‘thing’, but you know he really only comes to places like this to think. You wonder what’s on his mind now, coming here every single night since being unsealed. 

Despite how quiet you try to be, sneaking up on Gojo is almost impossible; he senses you before he hears you, sees the familiar traces of your cursed energy through his Six Eyes. 

“Can’t sleep thinking about me?” he teases, looking straight ahead.

The steps you take towards him are careful, afraid of running him off like you seem to be lately. You sit beside him, leaving a space larger than you usually do, then shrug, “These days, yeah.”

It’s times like this when Gojo forgets how honest you can be, how he takes your word for everything, completely. 

It’s threatening, he thinks, how you can say so much with so little. 

“Well, maybe I can suggest—” 

“Seriously, Satoru,” you grip the ledge tightly, knuckles turning white, “please.” 

You tend to let Gojo dodge your questions a lot of the time, his elusiveness a hallmark of who he is. So you never sound like you do now, serious, pleading. 

Gojo fiddles with his fingers, pondering. He hums lowly before speaking, “Does it matter?” 

It hurts you a little, how that’s even a question. He should know better than to ask that to you. 

“It matters to me, Satoru,” you sigh, “you know it does.”

You barely catch the way his brows furrow at your response, but there are creases on his blindfold that can’t be created by anything else. And Gojo knows—is so painfully aware of the way you care. 

Since coming back, he’s never felt like he’s fully returned. It’s an odd existence of in-between, like he breathes everything and nothing all at the same time. The emotions are even worse, overloading his senses with feelings he can never pinpoint. 

How does he tell you that he must be fucked in the head? That every second in his mind is another step closer to insanity? That he’s lost your tether on Satoru in pursuit of Gojo—of being a god? 

“I’ll tell you,” he starts, “but you have to look away.”

You’ve always treated Gojo tenderly, patiently, and he knows, without a doubt, that no matter what he says you will continue to do the same. But he can’t allow that, not anymore. Not after the way you looked at him that day.

“Okay,” you mutter, turning your head the other way. 

He breathes out and you can almost picture it: half-bitten lips and eyes like low tide. 

“I’m fine,” he says to the back of your head, “you have nothing to worry about.” 

A breeze picks up and brushes past your neck. It’s a lie. He knows it, knows you know it too, but—

it’s easier this way, he thinks, to give you answers when you’re not looking.

Gojo’s never found a weakness he can’t work around, but he might have just found one with you—in your eyes, that read through his every lie. If you turn around now, he’ll want to tell you everything.

“Satoru,” you whisper, letting his name fill the air. You get it—him, and even when you don’t, you try damn hard to because you refuse to let Gojo carry all of it on his own. 

There are crescent indents on your palm from squeezing your knuckles too hard. You think, is this how you form shallow cuts on your heart?

“It’s just me,” you continue, facing him when you say it. 

He takes you all in—your eyes that hold the city lights, your lips, the only vessel that handles his name so delicately. It’s that look on your face again and Gojo’s hit with an ache in his chest—the overwhelming truth that whatever it is, he feels the same. 

.

.

.

There’s a secret Gojo keeps, one he’s certain he’ll never tell you: that when he looks at you upon his return and finds an emotion he refuses to name, he’s never felt so afraid.  

He takes in the shadows under your eyes and the sunkenness of your cheeks—the number of blinks it takes you to reign in tears on the brink of leaking. The way your voice shakes when you say his name.

Shoko tells him about it because she knows you never will—about how you’ve been running yourself dry, speeding through colonies to gather intel for any possible way to break the seal. She tells him about the sleepless nights, how she catches you standing outside his office at 3 a.m. before travelling to Utahime the next morning. 

And he cannot comprehend it at first, cannot understand how he’s caused you to crumble this way. 

If this is all because of him, how you’ve broken yourself all for his sake, he can’t allow it. To see you ruin yourself over him, over anyone ever—you deserve better.

So, when Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it; he cannot possibly take any more from you if this is what is left of you when he does. 

.

.

.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you catch him by the door of the conference room. 

Rebuilding an entire society requires work and apparently a lot of meetings. Gojo doesn’t usually go to most of them, leaving you and Utahime to carry the chunk of his attendance when he’s not there. In the rare times that he does show up, he makes it a point to be the last one in and the first one out. Utahime hates him for it but you don’t blame him—he isn’t exactly amicable with other figures of authority.

He pauses when he steps out of the door, hands in pockets as he turns to face you. 

You’re not mad or anything, just stating the fact. He’s always known you to speak this way. You lean against the wall next to you, keeping your arms crossed. More people continue to file out of the conference room, some eyeing the two of you curiously as they pass by.

Gojo glances at them, suddenly self-conscious as he clears his throat, “Right, I’ve been avoiding the paperwork you left in my office,” he emphasizes, practically announcing it to everyone in the vicinity, “let’s finish it now.” 

You don’t know whether it’s irritating that Gojo’s so terribly bad at acting, or comforting that he still can’t, for the life of him, successfully lie in front of you. 

He motions for you to follow him as he strolls down the hallway, but you intentionally lag a few steps behind, careful not to encroach on his space lest it make him avoid you any more than he already is.

Stepping into Gojo’s office after so long feels weird, like you belong here but only to a memory of it—as if closing the door behind you feels like activating a muscle you haven’t for a while. It’s been months after all. 

Your eyes skim over the entire room, zeroing in on the stacks of paper lined up on his desk; paperwork has always been Gojo’s least favorite part of the job, often leaving you to do them with him (or alone, when you’re feeling generous). Not much has changed in his space; the mini living area still exists to the left of the room, with little bits of you in its interiors—the pillows, the coffee table books. 

Gojo plops down on the sofa chair and props his feet up on the ottoman, giving four scrolls to his phone before pocketing it. He has the audacity to casually offer you the seat across from him, as if nothing’s wrong—as if he hasn’t been avoiding you for god’s sake. 

Ever since the rooftop, he’s canceled lunch with you six times for reasons that you’re now realizing are less likely to be true. He’s kept a distance of at least one person in between you at all times, and to this day, you still don’t understand why. 

You sigh, taking a seat and leaning back to cross your legs. 

“You’re so bad at acting.” you start.

Being with Gojo for so long, you’ve come to realize that there’s no point being angry with him when your heart can never take it. 

“I technically wasn’t lying.” he replies, sticking his index finger up. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” you snicker, nodding to his desk. 

It’s always like this with Gojo: he pulls you in and you follow. No matter the distance between you, when you sit down together like this, it still always flows so easily. The banter you’ve built together over a decade and more shines through no matter what state your relationship is in. 

Neither of you say anything until Gojo replaces his blindfold for his sunglasses, placing the piece of cloth on the coffee table. 

You break the silence. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you ask quietly. Gojo aches at that, how you still choose to regard him so kindly. 

Why has he been avoiding you? It’s a good question, completely valid with how he’s been treating you lately, but he could draw up every answer he has, all one million and one, and still not know what to say.

Gojo’s a pretty bad communicator; for how much he talks, he doesn’t really say much—and maybe that’s the root of all this. There are too many things he wants to say but can’t formulate in the right way. 

“If it’s something I did, can you at least let me know?” you continue. Gojo frowns, how can you be wronged yet still think of yourself as the one to blame? 

“Why do you do that?” he tuts, head tilting sideways as his hands dig deeper into his pockets. 

“Do what?” you furrow your brows, confused. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t worry about it.” he says dismissively. 

You arch an eyebrow; he has it all mistaken. 

“Satoru, I’m not worried because I feel guilty,” you sit up, inching towards the edge of your seat, “I’m worried because you’re pushing me away.” your voice is level, but your pupils shake.

Something grips at his chest seeing you this way; together or apart, he seems to be the main contributor to your heartache. 

You wonder if confronting him like this is any good if he’s not going to say anything anyway. 

“If you want space, that’s okay, I get it, but,” you exhale, “at least just tell me why.” 

This entire time avoiding you, Gojo’s had you on his mind—the million and one. He’s come to terms with what he feels when you’re together, and how it amplifies when you’re not. 

It’s shitty of him to practically ghost you, not just in text but in real life too. But he’s thought about it logically, really, that removing himself from your life should be just like ripping off a bandaid—painful but quick. At least that way, you’d get over it fast. 

He’d been resigned to doing that and that was the plan—until now. 

All it takes is seeing that look in your eyes, and his resolve falls apart. 

“I can’t.” he speaks softly. 

What hurts the most is that beneath his sunglasses, his eyes still hold the sky. 

You think you want to cry. 

You take this as your answer and close your eyes, taking a deep breath before getting up to leave. If this is goodbye, you don’t want your last interaction to be an awkward memory of him watching you bawl in his office chair. 

You push yourself up with the armrest only to sit back down—because Gojo is right in front of you, blocking your way. His infinity is up but touching, a tingling sensation sweeping across your knees. 

“Wait,” he swallows, a franticness you’ve never seen before. His head stays down as he bites his lips, sunglasses hanging by his fingertips. You wonder what he wants to say, that even if it comes out messy, it’s okay. You want to tell him that it’s just you—that you’ll always want to hear it all anyway. 

What comes next is unlike any version of Satoru you have ever known—nervous and uncertain, almost like he’s afraid. He lowers himself, slowly coming down to his knees in front of you. A giant of a man so small in your presence. 

“I don’t know how.” he mutters, dropping his sunglasses to the floor. 

You blink once, twice, still surprised by what’s in front of you. Gojo has always towered above you, has always known how to do anything and everything so effortlessly without fail. 

Watching him now, with every inhale and exhale dragging in slow motion, you do your best not to startle him. 

“How to what?” you whisper, the moment so fragile. 

He looks up, eyes locking with yours. A reaction happens in that moment—the split second of all his thoughts collapsing into one. You see a clear sky, blue and bright as day, the Satoru he saves for you—while he sees you, with that look on your face, the one that he knows has always only meant love. 

The sincerity in your gaze overwhelms him—makes him look away before it becomes too much. Red blooms at the tips of his ears as he bites the inner corners of his lips, fingers grabbing at the fabric of his pants. You’re afraid he might run away again, but he doesn’t and stays right where you are. 

“You know…” he looks to the side, pouting, “whatever you do….”

“Like…?” you coax lightly, trying hard to hide the small smile forming on your lips. 

You wonder how many versions of Satoru you’ll meet in your lifetime, and if this one, shy and nervous, will be one you’ll fit into the crevices of your heart just like all the others. 

He grips his pants tighter, fabric bunching under his fingers, “When you hold my hand… those things. You get it.” 

And you do (get it), so you don’t push, taking whatever Gojo has to give you like you always have. 

The tension relieves from you slowly, comforted by the fact that at least he’s given you his reasons now (no matter how vague they still seem to be). That at least there are no non-answers this time. 

You tell yourself that it’s okay, that you’re content as long as Gojo’s in your life even without the possibility of becoming something more. 

“Ok—”

But there’s always one thing you forget about Gojo—

“So show me how.”

—in the moments you least expect it, he speaks the words that matter most. 

.

.

.

You choose to show him slowly, gently, like the trickling introduction of water to a man who is first learning how to drink. 

In the first few weeks of you and Gojo readjusting to one another, he turns on his infinity again—but only when he gets close enough to touch you. Lunches together happen more often, dinners sometimes too. Then he puts his infinity down, indefinitely. 

For the most part, your relationship falls into the usual steps of your dynamic with Gojo; there’s no pressure for anything and he likes that, appreciates the time you’re giving him to learn things at his own pace. 

It grows organically that way: knuckles brushing as you both reach for the stapler, pinkies touching whenever you walk side-by-side during site visits—until you’re able to hold his hand fully again, leaving that little infinity between your palms for him to close (hopefully, one day). 

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.

.

The faculty room is cold, especially during winter. The heating system is never warm enough to keep your hands from shaking whenever you mix your morning coffee. 

“So loud so early,” Gojo saunters into the kitchen, hands in pockets as he approaches the pantry. 

You stop mixing, ceasing the clinking of the spoon against your mug. “How are you not freezing?” 

He shrugs, grabbing his box of (heavily sugared) cereal. “I guess I’m just hot.” he says, turning to wiggle his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes and set your coffee on the table, Gojo following with a bowl brimming with cereal and milk. 

Mornings usually consist of you and Gojo, with an occasional new hire who has an early class that day. Most of the time, it’s just you two though, with Shoko coming in much closer to lunch time already. 

“Want some?” he asks, holding out his spoon.

It’s routine—Gojo asks and you decline, choosing to save yourself from the cavities that he somehow manages to evade despite having a diet of 80% sugar. 

Today though, you’re feeling a little adventurous. 

You nod, opening your mouth. Gojo’s eyes widen, nearly dropping the spoon at your request. You see the flush of his cheeks and smile, corners of your mouth extending wider. The spoon is shoved to your mouth too quickly, almost like he’s embarrassed to feed you. 

“Too sweet,” you scrunch your face, swallowing down the copious amount of sugar you’ll feel for days. 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Gojo throughout this whole relationship trial period, he recovers from any state within a nanosecond. There’s no end to how shameless he can be. 

“Like me, right?” he winks.

“Sure,” you drawl sarcastically and Gojo smiles like it’s high praise. 

You sip your coffee slowly, revelling in the heat that flows down your throat.

“Can I have half of that?” you point to his bowl. Gojo looks at you, confused, but slides it over anyway.

What happens next is an abomination to Gojo’s eyes—pure absolute disgust: you pour half of his cereal into your coffee and mix, sipping and crunching on a few pieces every now and then. 

His face contorts into complete distaste, horror and revulsion in the way his mouth hangs open. 

“What are you doing? That’s gross!” he nearly yells, reaching over to bring your mug down. His hand covers yours for a moment, the contact still causing gallops in his heartbeat. 

You laugh, giggling as he processes what you’d wasted his cereal on. It honestly doesn’t taste that bad, you think. 

“You’re weird,” he says to you, the grin on his face uncontained. This morning, he feels fond, like the butterflies in his stomach are warm, tickling him from the inside. “Give me.” he motions to your mug. 

You hold it up for him to take a sip but he keeps his hand over yours when he tastes, sticking his tongue out once the bitterness of your coffee hits. You set the mug down, preparing to reach for your spoon, but he takes your hand in his, long fingers slotting right between yours, interlacing. 

Gojo doesn’t normally reach for your hand, much less interlace them together (a recent evolution to your hand-holding), but this feels nice, how your fingers fit right in the spaces of his. 

You turn to him, a shy smile on your face. The tips of his ears are blush red but he looks at you the same, “Your hands were cold,” he pouts, “is this– is this okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s warm. Thank you, Satoru.” you nod, beaming. And it’s not a competition but he hopes you see the light in his eyes, how it feels to be ignited within him only when he’s spending breakfasts like this with you. 

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.

.

Shoko asks what you are and you don’t know what to tell her other than you’re happy and it’s good. Gojo’s existence is loud and vibrant, easy to spot from miles away—but he cares for you discreetly, in the hand that gently rests on your lower back while crossing the street, and the seemingly unlimited supply of your favorite coffee when you have no recollection of restocking it ever. 

He gives you a new mug for Christmas, one with little cereals painted all over while you give him his own tube of hand cream that he claims always smells like you. 

During the faculty New Year celebration, you overhear one of the new hires make a move on Gojo. You aren’t bothered by it or anything, simply walking past to sip your sake by the couch. You can hear them talk a bit from the kitchen, but you try not to pry despite how curious you are about his response. 

Until—

“I’m taken,” you hear Gojo say bluntly. 

Everything rings in your ears after that. The countdown music is loud, but your heart beats louder; there are murmurs and footsteps around you, but only one man crouches down to check on you, glass of water in hand. 

You snap out of it and see blue, the sky—a familiar light; you don’t think you can control the smile on your face, the alcohol lowering your inhibitions to paint on something lovesick. 

And when he smiles back, pink lips stretching wide—oh your heart can’t take it. He places one hand on your knee, rubbing gently. You hear it faintly, how he asks if you’re okay, but all you can do is nod, words failing to express how you feel right now.  

The countdown starts. 3 — and you take his face in your hands, squishing his cheeks to an image of him on your phone from many, many years ago. 2 — you go closer and his eyes go wide, a mixture of panic and surprise, but soft at the same time. 1 — you lean in and his eyelids fall shut, his chest on rampage. Then it lands, there, on the tip of his nose: a delicate peck and the smell of sake mixed with mint (like the lip balm you always carry around in your pocket). 

When you pull away from him, you’re smiling the biggest he’s ever seen, and he can’t feel it from how numb his cheeks have become, but he’s doing the same. 

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.

.

That kiss to his nose serves as the catalyst to the months that follow: Gojo becomes more comfortable touching you now, and though he blushes every single time, there’s nothing to be ashamed of because you do too. Shoko can’t believe the slow burn this is taking you both, having watched this on the sides since you were both 22, but you think you like it—like the slow drizzle of honey on Gojo’s favorite breakfast waffles. 

“How is it?” you ask, watching as Gojo takes a big bite. 

“D Beft.” he replies, mouth full as he chews. You take the seat beside him and take a spoonful. 

“There’s a secret ingredient.” you say mischievously, wiggling your eyebrows. 

He swallows before he scoffs, “What?” cutting up another piece, “Love?” 

You’re surprised because he says it so casually, and Gojo’s never talked about love, has never even mentioned the word since this shift in your relationship. He realizes a beat late by the expression on your face and gets flustered, thinking immediately of ways to brush past it. 

You had meant to say that you used that infused sugar he buys whenever he goes to Kyoto, but… you suppose love works too. He should know by now, right? 

“If it is?” you whisper, pretending to stir your coffee. 

Gojo doesn’t know how to approach this, really, but he’s come too far to back out now. He clears his throat, mentally running through what he wants to say, then, “Good. ‘Cause that’s what I put in your coffee too.” 

You laugh and the tension dissipates; there are hearts in your eyes for how hard Gojo has tried after denying himself of this for so long. 

He stares at you—at the laugh lines by your eyes and the soft curves of your lips, the moment moving much too slow, stop motion in his mind. He’s drawn in until you’re all too close, a few centimeters from your noses touching. 

Your laughter dies and your cheeks feel like they’re on fire; he’s so close you think he might kiss you. The signs are there—his eyes scaling your face to focus on your lips, his tongue peeping ever so slightly to wet his lips. 

So you wait. 

But he doesn’t, because he moves away after wiping his thumb on the side of your mouth. Even though you know there was nothing there. 

Gojo continues to eat, blabbering about a site visit he’s assigned to next week, but you don’t miss the way his ears are fully red and how he’s biting his lips to death.

.

The tension this time is different; instead of a growing rift, you can’t seem to be close enough. Every time you part ways, he lets go of your hand more reluctantly—as if he wants to say more, do more, but stops himself while he still can. 

When he leaves for missions, you kiss his cheek, pull him in by the hand and linger there, shyly. He gets embarrassingly red but tries to cover it up by telling you not to miss him too much (even though you know you will, and he knows he’ll miss you more). 

Your near-kisses with Gojo happen more frequently, and it comes to a point where he even manages to land one on your forehead, while you fall asleep next to him on his office couch. 

It’s driving you crazy, this tension—the mixed signals of it all. You try to kiss him a few times on the lips, but he evades them each time. You’ve caught Gojo staring at your lips more times than you can count; if that isn’t a sign, you don’t know what is. 

Now that Gojo thinks about it, he’s come so far yet the prospect of kissing you properly still scares him. What if he fucks up? Doesn’t do it right? What if it’s not how he wants you to be kissed? 

There’s that secret Gojo will never tell you, of how seeing that look on you has never gotten him more afraid. And he’s worked through that now, but it’s evolved into something else: how Gojo is now afraid of love, more than anything else, not because of loss but because he might not know how. 

And kissing you, loving you this way—he’s never done it before, doesn’t know how to make you feel love without his lips shaking and heart palpitating; how to do it while letting you know he feels the same. 

.

It happens during an assignment out of town. Curses aren’t as bad as they used to be, but they’re still stronger than what any of the available sorcerers right now can handle. 

You don’t remember the last time you saw Gojo use his technique that way—almost forgotten how powerful and ruthless he can be. Every time since, holding your hand, keeping you close—he’s just been your Satoru. 

Your apartment for the weekend is a two-bedroom unit with one bathroom and a decently sized living area and kitchenette; Gojo always chooses the room in front of the bathroom because he tends to wake up in the middle of the night to pee (information you know from your many other assignments with him before). Still, going as what you are now—it feels different. 

There’s a charged air between you as you move around the unit; you make your nightly tea while Gojo looks through the groceries for some crackers. It’s peaceful and quiet—domestic almost, but there are goosebumps on your skin for reasons you can’t explain. Being around Gojo lately has felt that way.

He brushes past you to throw the finished packet of crackers and the feeling intensifies; it’s not awkward, just tense, like anticipation sitting deep in your bellies, waiting on each other to make the first move. 

He announces that he’ll use the bathroom first, if you don’t mind, and you motion for him to go ahead. Your mind is fuzzy and having Gojo around seems to only make it worse.

When you walk past the bathroom and straight to your room, you hear Gojo humming that soft pop tune from a popular girl group on the radio earlier. You giggle, thinking it’s sweet—how he sings obnoxiously around everyone else but is admittedly pretty good when it’s just him, alone. 

You still have the rest of the weekend in this area, having agreed to monitor the site and any nearby locations for other suspicious activity, but at least the worst of it is over (maybe just to you though; Gojo hates paperwork). 

The sound of running water stops and you hear the bathroom door swing open. You don’t see Gojo when you exit your room but he leaves the door open to release any remaining steam.

There’s a reason why people say showers are good for the mind. You’re happy for those who’ve found it, but that couldn’t be you, because the only thought plaguing your head right now is Gojo—and whether you should greet him goodnight, if you should kiss his cheek or hug him tight. The tension between you now is palpable, an electric current waiting to zap on both ends. 

Your mind is so out of it that you don't realize you’re missing your skincare bag until after you finish brushing your teeth and dressing for bed. You open the bathroom door with the sole intention of going back to your room to get it, but instead, you’re met with a wall of chest.

Gojo’s eyes are wide, bright blue with damp strands of white falling like curtains barely shielding the sky. He’s just as surprised as you are, toothbrush in his hand as you hold up the towel wrapped around your head. 

You’ve seen Gojo in his pajamas many times before—white long sleeves with gray cotton pants, but your eyes trail to his collarbones and the way the bathroom lights cast it under a soft glow. The redness on his cheeks, a visual manifestation of the heat on yours. 

Gojo can’t stop staring at your lips, at how soft they look—at how soft you look fresh out of the shower. The little baby hairs sticking out under your towel are cute, and he leans in without knowing—a pull he can’t seem to resist. For once in his life, Gojo’s mind is still. 

You try to meet him halfway, tiptoeing, but you’re a little out of your element; you don’t know where to put your hands and your heart’s about to explode out of your chest. When your noses touch, you can’t breathe, closing your eyes while you wait for it. 

But it doesn’t come. 

You feel Gojo’s breath stilling before speeding up into little exhales. Something is wrong. You open your eyes and find him staring back at you, a version of Gojo you haven’t seen in a while—that you rarely see ever, except that day during your confrontation in his office. 

Concern laces your features and you move back a little, hands coming up to caress his cheeks. His eyes still look frantic, but they focus on you when you cup his face so gently. 

“Satoru,” you whisper, voice grounding. His breaths slow down a little. 

You realize that it must be true then, what they say, that those who love to be feared, fear to be loved, because you’ve never seen anyone afraid of something so good as Gojo is of this. 

“Satoru,” you repeat, massaging his temples with your thumb, “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

Gojo hates it, how you’ve always had to adjust for him. He hates that he can’t give you this one thing, hates that you’re still so patient, that he’s still so afraid. He swallows, closing his eyes tight before opening them again. 

“I want to,” he chokes out, “I just don’t know—”

You chuckle, without judgment, “I don’t either,” you lean forward, foreheads touching, “but do you want to try together?”

You learn that Gojo sees himself so differently from how you do—and maybe that’s everyone, but Gojo tends to say things while doing the other. He says he can’t bother with kids, but continues to take so many of them under his wing anyway; he calls your cereal concoction disgusting but tastes it regardless; and he says he can’t think about love, doesn’t know how, but proceeds to try so much harder, everyday. 

When you look at Gojo, you see a heart so big, so capable, that he can’t see it himself. 

You nudge his nose with yours and he breathes deeply, closing his eyes once again. If he doesn’t do this now, how much longer ‘till he does? 

Gojo hums before nodding his head slightly. His hands come up to cover yours, toothbrush wedged in the spaces between his fingers; they’re clammy, he’s sure, but he’s kept you waiting long enough. 

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, everything trembles—his pupils, his lips, the breath he takes. It’s all shaky and nervous, but your lips touch and all you know is that you like it there. He’s a little bit stiff but you don’t mind, pressing closer just for a little bit before pulling away. 

Gojo keeps your hands in place, half-lidded eyes staring at you lazily. His ears are fully red now but he’s giving you a look you’ve never seen before—like lightning crackling in the gaps between his eyelids. 

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, you don’t expect it to be by the bathroom door of a rented apartment, while away on a mission. You don’t expect it to be in your pajamas, towel wrapped around your hair as you’re getting ready for bed. You definitely don’t expect him to guide your hands down his neck while he places his on your lower back, squeezing lightly before pulling you in to kiss you again. 

This time, his lips move more pliantly, parting yours slightly; he tastes mint, mixed with the strawberry candy he had earlier and it’s nothing he could have ever imagined before, but is now everything he’s ever wanted. The push and pull between you is magnetic, soft lips and the intermingling of held breaths. All Gojo can think of now is to take, to devour—to keep you with him, like this, always. 

You wonder if Gojo is lying—that he’s never done this before, because you don’t think you can kiss anyone after this and not think of his lips on yours. 

By the time you part, the air is significantly warmer. Your fingers thread through the hair at the base of his neck and you smile, sighing. Gojo looks warm, with his swollen lips and flushed cheeks. 

“That…” you trail off, nudging his nose. 

Gojo looks at you fondly; to ever even think he could have this now, with you—he doesn’t believe in any higher being but you must be his prayer come true. 

“We can practice a bit more, I think.” he pulls you closer, hands gripping your hips. 

You feel it against you, something solid and firm against your stomach and your eyes go wide at the realization; Gojo does the same. 

“Satoru, you–” he moves back and freezes, untangling himself from you completely. There’s a faint outline on the crotch of his pants and your whole face goes red. 

“Let me use the bathroom real quick.” he panics, rushing past you and closing the bathroom door. 

You stand there stunned for a good minute before you shake out of it, laughing. Gojo yells about how you’re being so mean, making fun of him when he’s like this, but you aren’t—not really. 

It’s been a long time getting to this point with Gojo, but considering all things, you think, this might just be the beginning.

thank you notes: i would also like to shoutout @stellamancer for leaving such lovely comments on dybil that it actually kinda pushed me to write this longer piece connected to it!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[petrichorium]

I... would like to hear more of your thoughts about Luffy.... if you have any more to spare.....

lil prequel to this

The jungle is hotter than you anticipated.

It's only been an hour and already you're sweating through your linen shirt. It was foolish, really, to assume you'd be prepared, but before setting foot on the beach you might have said you'd last at least the first day before stripping most of your outerclothes.

Luffy, in contrast, seems perfectly unaffected. Of course it’s been nearly a decade since he’d first entered the Grand Line, an infinity of experience compared to you—in fact you might even say he looks more at home amongst the overgrowth and unseen beasts than he did in the bustling urbanism of your home island. He stands taller, you think; doesn’t bother hunching to your height, shoulders rolled back with eager confidence.

He'd picked up a walking stick somewhere along the way, and though he's offered more than once you've resolutely refused to climb onto that broad back if only because just the sight of it before you has your heart beating ever faster.

(And, admittedly, because more than once you've spotted some bug or another that has drawn you astray, and you'd be far too sheepish to ask him to stop and let you off if you saw one from his back.)

Now you lead the way, following the trail of distinctively eaten foliage that you'd first pointed out to a surprisingly keen pirate king who'd crouched to hover over your shoulder as you eagerly gestured to the characteristic patterns. He's carried on following you, an energetic pup at your heels with hands just a bit too willing to reach out and tug you away from the countless dips and valleys you seem determined to fall down.

Such as the one you stumble across now. The ground drops before you, so large that even your poor reflexes can stop you. Your heart drops even faster—once the trees have given way you realize the cliff you’ve run square into has revealed a perfect view of the ship you arrived on, and just how far into the horizon it’s gotten.

“Ahhhh,” Luffy says, a dismayed sort of noise. You flinch as a heavy forearm slams against your shoulder, the man forcing more of his weight than comfortable onto you as he leans forward. “So slow. The Sunny would have been gone by now.”

“What?”

“The Thousand Sunny! My ship!”

You wrinkle your nose. “I know what the Thousand Sunny is—“

“You do?” He’s giddy now, eager as he leans even closer into your personal space. “She’s the best ship ever, right? With the lion at the front, so cool, I'll take you to sit on it when—“

“I don’t know that much.” Your hand finds his face as you shove him away none too gently. He doesn’t budge. “Just the name, the figurehead… the flag.”

What any person in the world would know about the ship that carries the king of the pirates. You don’t bother clarifying such things anymore. Luffy doesn’t tend to listen.

“Shouldn’t you be more concerned by the fact that our ship has sailed off?”

He blinks. “That’s why you brought me along, though.”

The words turn your blood cold. You swallow thickly. “You knew? Did you… did Lyle tell you? Is that why you agreed so quickly?”

Luffy makes a face. When he speaks it’s sour in a distinctly juvenile way. “Don’t talk about him, I don’t like him. And I really don’t like when you talk about him.”

"He's my husband," is all you can think to say in response.

"He wants you dead."

Even more than before, you feel as if you've been doused in freezing water, as if the air has been knocked from your lungs. You knew—of course you knew, obviously you knew, but hearing it aloud is an entirely different territory. Your knees buckle; Luffy’s hands find your waist before you can drop, lifting you with ease to deposit you almost tenderly onto the large outcropping of rock you’d been bracing yourself against.

They rest on either side of your thighs. You try not to think too hard about how warm they feel against you.

Your new perch is high enough that you’re level with him now. It’s a more comfortable feeling, no longer craning your neck to look him in the eye. Except he has other intentions; ones that have your face growing hot as he sighs and lowers his head to rest his cheek against the soft give of your thigh.

He’s always been touchy, moreso than appropriate, but it’s never been anything this bold. When he glances up at you through lidded eyes your breath hitches, a thrill going through you.

“We’ll just wait for my crew, yeah? If I don’t show up in a couple days they’ll follow my vivre card to find us. But you knew all that, didn’t you?”

You squirm a little. Luffy's arm tightens around your legs.

"Stop that. Just lemme—"

He shoves his face into your stomach. You yelp, hand flying to grip his hair none too gently—but that only drags a groan from him as he presses further and inhales deeply. Your abdomen tenses involuntarily.

(Lyle had never touched you so intimately, and certainly never so desperately. It had all been courteous and tasteful during the course of your arranged engagement, and then he'd gone cold after the wedding. Some rebellious part of you wishes he could see you and the king of the pirates now...)

He pulls back only when you finally sink into it. Stomach still fluttering, you push it aside and lean back on your forearm, that hand in his hair relaxing to stroke through the strands absent-mindedly. He eases up, lifting his head to watch you.

“Why?” You say finally. “Why are you so calm? I tricked you into coming here, I lied to you, I manipulated you, and you just went along with it? Now you’re stranded on this island with me for who knows how long until your people finally show up and you’re just okay with that? Why?”

Luffy blinks at you, dark eyes wide as his head tilts and his mouth pulls into a pout that has your heart skipping a beat.

“Well… you’re gonna join my crew, aren’t you?”

[aajxs]

meant to be , s.g

synopsis - the one where you're in love and satoru doesn't realize until it's too late.

pairings - satoru gojo x fem!reader

contents - ANGST!!! , gojo is an asshole and y/n is too sweet for her own good , mentions of injuries and blood , major character death , prob ooc gojo

w/c - 1.8k

a/n - I got lazy asf at the end and didn't know how to finish this and I just needed it out of my drafts lol. this is kinda buns but I hope you enjoy it anyways!!

masterlist , part two .

There wasn't supposed to be any grade one curses on your mission. You were supposed to get in, exorcise the few grade three curses, and get out. 'You're strong, stronger than most, so why couldn't you beat them?' You thought to yourself as your back pressed into the concrete wall behind you. You had been sitting here for awhile, and the curses were long gone. You had beaten them up pretty badly, but you just weren't strong enough.

'Satoru could beat them, though. He's stronger than you ever will be.' Said that tiny voice in the back of your head, reminding you over and over again of your weakness.

You kept telling yourself that someone would come for you. Someone would realize you hadn't been at the school in awhile. Someone would come and find you. Maybe it was the false hope that was keeping you alive, maybe it was something else, you weren't sure. You were surprised you hadn't bled to death yet. It felt as if you had been staring aimlessly at the ground for days, yet it had probably only been an hour since the curses left you to die.

You felt a presence somewhere in the building and went to get up. Due to your weakened state you were unsure if it was a curse or another jujutsu sorcerer. You had one hand holding your bloody side, and another hand on the wall in a lousy attempt to get yourself off the cold ground. You cursed under your breath as you pushed yourself off the wall, forcing yourself to walk towards the suspicious presence. Your vision was blurry, you were bleeding from multiple places, and needless to say, you were going to need a new uniform if you even got out of here.

Your day was completely and utterly ruined. 'Not that it was going well in the first place.' You thought as you recalled the encounter you had with Satoru just a few hours prior to your mission.

"'Toru–" You happily began, but you were instantly cut off. "Don't call me that." Satoru irritatedly uttered as the two of you walked side by side through the halls. "Gosh, who pissed in your cereal?" You joked, letting out a small laugh as you purposely bumped shoulders with Gojo, making him give you an annoyed glance.

"Anyways, Satoru, I was wondering if you wanted to-" You began again, "No." He cut you off, quickening his pace. "I didn't even get to finish..?" You awkwardly said, your smile starting to disappear from your face. "Y/N, just leave me alone, I can't deal with you today." Satoru said, making you slow your steps. "What?" You frowned, "But we haven't talked all day?" You sadly uttered, bumping shoulders with him again, this time a bit softer.

He brushed you off his shoulder, "We don't have to talk every day." He said, obviously becoming irritated. "But we're best friends, why wouldn't we..?" You trailed off, confusion and sadness washing over you. When he didn't reply, you went to bump his shoulder again, but you were stopped by his infinity. "Why's your infinity on? You never have it up around me." Your frown deepened at the action. Did he really not want you around him that badly?

"I don't like you touching me Y/N, just go somewhere, I'm not in the mood for you right now." Satoru quietly said, "So you have to be in a certain mood to be a good friend?" You asked, growing more upset by the second, "You could just tell me that you're not feeling well and you don't want to talk right now, you don't have to be an asshole about it." You said, stopping in your tracks.

"I'm not feeling well and I don't want to talk to you right now." He said, his words laced with a mix of irritation and sarcasm. "Satoru if you don't want me around you just say that!" You said, making him abruptly turn to look at you. "I don't want you around me! Is it that hard to give me a little bit of space?! You're always right next to me, always bothering me to hang out with you!" Satoru snapped, "Well, did it ever occur to you that I don't want to hang out with you?! That I don't want to talk to you!?" He said, the hands that were once shoved into his pockets now balled up into fists.

Your lips parted in shock, and you stared at him for a few moments. "I didn't realize that was how you felt." You murmured, "I just-" Your voice cracked slightly, "Nevermind, 'm sorry I said anything." You apologized, attempting to blink back the tears that were forming in your eyes. Your shoulders lightly shook as you walked away, and you prayed he didn't notice your sobs. You didn't know why it hurt so much, it wasn't like it was the first time Satoru had said something along those lines to you.

You don't remember much after that, aside from the fact that you eyes still hurt from crying and Satoru didn't even try to make sure you were alright. On your way out you saw him playing around with Suguru and Shoko.

You let out a few more curse words before making your way towards the nearest wall. There was no use in checking out whatever or whoever had entered the building, you were going to die anyways. You knew your time would come eventually, but now? You're barely seventeen.

You leaned against the wall for a moment before giving in and sliding down the wall to the ground, your blood leaving a few marks along the way. You had barely felt any of your wounds due to shock, but now that the exhaustion was finally hitting you, your body started to hurt even worse than it had ten minutes ago. It wouldn't be long until you passed out from blood loss and finally met your end, you at least wish you could've gone out in a cool way.

You couldn't help the small cries you let out as you sat there, aching against a cold cement wall in an abandoned building. You're gonna die alone in some random, dirty building. You thought as your warm tears made their way down your battered cheeks. You heard the sound of rushed footsteps, and your immediate reaction was placing a hand over your mouth in a lousy attempt to quiet your sobs.

Your ears were ringing and everything around you was muffled, so you couldn't tell if what was approaching was far away or close to you. Your vision was blurred, and the tears only made it worse. In other words, you could barely see or hear a thing.

A hand abruptly grabbing your shoulder snapped you out of your own thoughts and triggered your fight or flight sense, aptly choosing fight. The hand that was once covering your mouth now clenched and pulled back into a weak fist. "It's me! Y/N, it's me!" A familiar voice said, making you slowly put your fist down.

You went back to your original position against the wall. Your eyes were droopy and you felt like you were going to fall asleep. "No– Y/N, stay awake!" The person said as they took your practically limp body into their arms. A hand reached to your face and began shakily wiping your tears, whispering curses under their breath as they cradled you.

"Satoru.." You mumbled, a weak smile appearing on your face. He perked up at your words, the hand that was wiping your tears now cupping your face. "Yes, it's me- Satoru, your Satoru!" Your Satoru. How you longed for those words to come out of his mouth for years. You know that's not what he means, though. You know he'll never be yours.

"Thought you didn't like me anymore, 'Toru..?" You weakly asked, tears still streaming down your face. "Fuck— I didn't mean that, you know I could never dislike you Y/N." He said, anxiety lacing his words. Your half-lidded eyes gazed at him with nothing but adoration, they always have. "I don't think 'm gonna make it, 'Toru." You tiredly said, offering him another weak grin.

"Don't say that! You can't leave," Satoru said, "You're important to me." A small frown appeared on his face as you let out a dry laugh. How could you be laughing at a time like this? "I don't get it," You began, "You've always said I'm important to you-" You cut yourself off with a cough, pain shooting throughout your entire body. "-But you always make me feel like 'm not worth your time." You said, blinking a few times to try and keep yourself awake.

"C'mon Y/N, none of that matters now," He said, his tone getting a bit louder, "Stop fucking talking and stay awake for me." Satoru pleaded, lightly tapping your face. If he could take back everything he ever did wrong to you, he would. "Satoru?" You asked, your voice cracked, the lump in your throat only growing with the pain in your body.

"I wanna go home, 'Toru." You cried, weakly gripping Satorus uniform. "You will go home. We jus' gotta wait for Kiyotaka to get here, 'nd we'll go home." He said before throwing his head back and biting his lip harshly, blinking back his tears.

Your side was throbbing, every other wound on your body was stinging. You looked sickly and if anybody saw you they'd assume you were a zombie. You and Satoru both knew that you couldn't live through this. "'Toru—" You began, a small hiccup erupting from your throat. "I love you, y'know that, right?" You uttered, licking your lips out of habit.

"I love you too," He admitted back, his cerulean eyes glossed over. "You're not allowed to die on me, Y/N." He frowned, his voice shaking and cracking every few words.

"I have one last request before I go–" You started, biting your lip when Satoru cut you off, "You're not leaving, don't say that!" He harshly said, his grip on your body tightening. "I'm weak, Satoru." You admit as you reach up to cup his face. He's not wearing those stupid glasses. You thought as you caressed his face gently, a smile appearing on your tear stained, battered face.

"Have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are, 'Toru?" You say, not failing to catch him off guard even in your last moments. He gives you a nod as he takes one of his hands and places it over your own. "Can you kiss me on the forehead? Like you always do?" You question as you blink away a few tears.

He places a gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips staying for a few moments, before hugging your body closer to him and tucking your head under his own. "Maybe in another life, I can be what you always wanted.." You mutter before closing your eyes. He could feel your body still, and finally let a couple tears run down his face.

It was never meant to be.

© AAJXS

[daisies-daydreams]

My Wish (Papa!Gyomei Himejima Drabble)

Header Credit: Pexels & Ufotable Pairing: Gyomei Himejima x Wife!Reader Category: Fluff/Light Angst Tags: Depictions of Childbirth, Mentions of Blood, Babies, New Parenthood, Flashbacks to Infinity Castle Arc/Gyomei's Backstory, Crying, Tooth-Rotting Fluff Word Count: 1k Divider Credit: @saradika Summary: Gyomei does his best to remain strong as you give birth to his firstborn child. A/N: Hello hello lovely people! I've had this idea swimming around in my mind for a while, and I'm so happy I finally got around to it! (Gyomei would make such an amazing dad I just know it). I hope you enjoy! Pt. 2 - Late Night

Gyomei clenched his jaw as you gripped his massive hand with your sweaty palm. He tightly squeezed the string of red prayer beads that was wound in his other hand as you groaned and panted heavily.

"You're doing amazing, my love," he gently reassured you as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. You suddenly threw your head back and released a harsh cry, the midwife cooing as she held your other hand. She gasped when she peeked around the blanket obscuring the lower portion of your body.

"Just keep breathing deeply, (Y/N). I can see the baby's head crowning!" she said as a hopeful expression lit up her face. Gyomei's breath hitched at the news before you began to curse and sob. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze as he placed his lips against your paling knuckles.

"You’re such a strong woman, (Y/N). The strongest one I-“ his voice cut off when you nearly crushed his hand as you screamed. His frown deepened as the midwife patted your face with a wet cloth.

“I-I can’t do it!” you sobbed as your legs shook. Gyomei shook his head as he held your hand up to his cheek, your words resonating with him as he thought back to how he leaned against the wall during the battle at the Infinity Castle. How hope was but a dying flame in his heart as blood oozed from his wounds…and yet, the sound of your voice calling to him within his mind stoked the fire deep within him.

Heavy tears trailed down Gyomei’s cheeks as he could only imagine the pain you were in. He gave your hand another reassuring squeeze as he carefully leaned down and pecked your forehead.

“You can do it, (Y/N). You’re so close,” he encouraged you the same way you did when he was barely hanging on by a thread. He heard you swallow thickly before your breaths grew more quick and ragged.

“You’re almost there, Mrs. Himejima. Just a few more pushes,” the midwife coached you as she prepared to catch the baby. Gyomei held his breath as he awaited to hear the soft cries of his newborn, his heart wildly pounding against his rib cage as he bounced his leg.

You continued to grunt and grip his hand tightly as you strained on the futon. Gyomei’s head perked up when he heard you curse out one more time before the first wailing cries of your baby cascaded through the room.

He could practically feel the midwife grinning as the little one gurgled and cried, your exhausted pants filling his ears as your grip on his hand loosened.

“You did an amazing job, my love,” he cooed softly.

“Yes…now it’s time to start pushing for the other one,” the midwife said. A heavy silence lingered in the room before both you and your husband spoke.

“WHAT?!”

+++

After another hour of grunting, screaming and nearly breaking your husband’s hand, you welcomed another wailing infant into the world. Gyomei gently wiped the sweat from your exhausted features as the midwife checked and cleaned the newborns.

“You did such an incredible job, my dear,” your beloved smiled gently as he wiped your brow. You sighed and gently placed a hand over his wrist. Gyomei smiled as he set the wet rag aside and leaned down, his lips gently caressing the top of your head.

“I bet I look like a mess right now,” you chuckled tiredly. Gyomei hummed as he pulled back and shook his head.

“No, I bet you look even more beautiful than ever, my precious flower,” he sighed and cupped your cheek with his massive, warm palm. His heart fluttered as you leaned into his touch, your skin so soft and smooth against his hand. The midwife cleared her throat as she shuffled towards the other side of your bed.

“Mr. and Mrs. Himejima, meet your new baby girls,” she smiled. Gyomei’s heart lit up as he heard the shuffling of bedsheets and the soft grunts of the two small newborns. You thanked the midwife as she gently handed the cooing twins over to you. Tears welled in Gyomei’s eyes as he knelt at your bedside, his hand hesitantly hovering over you.

“What do they look like?” your husband asked as he tilted his head. He gasped as you gently took his hand and placed it over one of the girls’ heads.

“They both have your hair…and my eyes,” you replied softly. Gyomei sighed with relief as he gently brushed his thumb over the tuft of soft, dark hair on his daughter’s head. A warm, gentle smile crossed his face as he felt his little one lean into his hand.

“They seem quite big for newborns,” he chuckled softly. You giggled and shifted in bed.

“Well, considering who their papa is…” you began. Gyomei felt the tips of his ears burn as his stomach tied into a knot.

“R-Right. I’m...I'm so sorry for making you endure that,” he sighed. You cooed and shook your head.

“It’s alright, Gyo. We both couldn’t have known how big our babies would be,” you reassured him with a quiet chuckle. Gyomei returned your smile before hot tears began to roll down his cheeks. You sighed softly as he sniffed.

“I-I just never thought this day would come,” he swallowed thickly as he folded his hand over his daughter’s head, as if to shield her from the evils of the world. His breath stuttered as he carefully brought his hand over to his other newborn baby, the sound of her cooing as he gently cupped her plump cheek. “After the orphanage, I…I thought bringing children into this world was a curse,” Gyomei confessed with a heavy sigh.

His eyes widened as he felt his little one wrap her soft, tiny hand around one of his thick fingers. He sniffed, his heart melting as he smiled.

“But...I’ve never felt more blessed than I do now,” he murmured softly as his daughter held onto his large finger. His smile grew as you leaned up and pecked his cheek.

“You’re going to be a wonderful father, Gyomei,” you whispered lovingly. Your husband’s heart swelled with an overwhelming warmth as he soaked in the presence of his beloved wife and two new miracles. He smiled and placed a soft kiss on your forehead before giving one to his precious newborns as well.

“And you’re going to be the most amazing mother, my love,” he grinned.

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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[whalesforhands]

So I rewatched hidden inventory again and saw that gojo can like- gravitate people around 🧍‍♀️

Would def pull mc to him if they argued or something and saw mc try walking away

“um, we’re not done yet 🤓☝️”

-🗣️anon

tw: yandere

this drabble is connected to this btw

“You,” You’re tugged back by a force unknown, practically dragged against your will as your hand slips off the doorknob, air working against you as your adrenaline pumps— All for your back to meet with the hardness of a chest, infinity long turned off and his face scrunched into one of squinted grumpiness.

You can feel hands on your waist, fingers trailing your midsection and the very evident pout on his face as you feel him push his chin into your hair, his arms squeezing against your sides and effectively chaining you to him.

“I don’t like it when ya don’t talk to me.”

(Hmph. What makes him think you like being trapped in his arms against your will?)

“I know that look.” A lithe finger pokes at your cheek, slow and playful and purposely taking his time since he’s aware that you won’t move, won’t retaliate. Not when you’ve refused to acknowledge him at all.

“Don’t be mad at me.”

It makes him all the more worried, honestly.

“Please?”

Be mad, be angry. Flick his forehead, bite his arm— Hell, slap him across the face. He’ll take it all without Infinity if it was you. Call him a bastard, call him a selfish, possessive monster, yell at him; tell him he’s the worst.

Tell him you hate him.

He’ll take anything over your disappointed silence, will lap at anything you’re willing to bestow upon this cursed soul of his.

Just don’t ignore him.

“I love you, ya know?” His whisper is in your ear, slow and soft and teetering upon a low murmur. You feel his nose tap against your cheek, his breath on your skin as his coos make your blood run cold.

“You understand, right?”

You have to, have to know that he does it all for you. So many curses out there, so many things that could possibly harm you, hurt you. It’s dangerous out there, you know? Plus, there’s no reason for him to let you go on missions when he can easily take care of them, no?

“The higher-ups have just been piling lots of work onto me instead of other sorcerers.” He stuffs another bite of the vanilla crepe into your mouth, cutting off any of your rebuttals as his smile grows all the more smug at your obedience, patting your head as you chew with resignation.

“Plus, it’s better for ya to stay in school and train anyway. S’ not like missions are gonna take themselves on if your Grade’s still so low.” He ends with shoving the remainder of his sweet treat into his mouth, licking at his lips and his wandering eyes meeting your unfocused, deep in thought ones.

“Ooh! Ya got cream on your lip, don’t worry and let me get that for you~”

Not even the way that you had Gojo Satoru playfully kissing the corner of your mouth was enough to distract you. Gentle was the peck, his tongue playfully poking out to tease at your heated skin that he took pride in being able to feel. Not even the way his hands had trailed down to your waist, his cheek now pressed against your own as he kept whining your name over and over—

You don’t hear it. You don’t hear much of what he had to say, really. All you know was that he said again. You know he’s Gojo Satoru, know that someone of his caliber has standards, but being called weak so directly to your face makes you uneasy.

You know it, have to come to terms with it after all this time spent in the school after that incident, had a lot of time to think about your next step— All whilst surrounded by your exceedingly talented classmates.

It’s quite the reality check, honestly.

And maybe, just maybe; a part of you had finally accepted your plain mediocrity that he just makes so abundantly clear.

“Satoru,” Your voice feels cracked and sore, a testament to how you’ve refused to talk to him all day— And a contrast to the arms that held you so gently, with such fragility— As if they were afraid that you would break had he just used an ounce of too much strength.

It makes you feel all the worse.

“… you promised me that you’d be back within the week…”

Isn’t it embarrassing? Aren’t you ashamed? To be so clingy of your precious friend for being late, to be vying so much for someone that the entirety of the Jujutsu society looked up to. So your gaze can only stay pinned to the floor, your grievances aired out into a quiet murmur as you finally give up on this farce.

You never liked being this alone, after all.

“I know, I know! Suguru and Shoko are out on their own personal missions too right? I tried really, really hard to get back as soon as possible, I swear!” His tone is still chipper, his arm holding you closer as you’re lead back towards the dorms, only his voice that filled your ears and the ringing of your quiet haplessness.

“Wouldn’t want ya to be too lonely in school, ya know?” He adds a hum as he stops before a dorm—So familiar you were with these halls, so much time spent wandering aimlessly when there wasn’t another student besides the small Panda following you around.

Was it embarrassing that you could tell it was Satoru’s dorm just by the specific pattern etched onto the wood of his door?

“I feel really, realllllly tired after that mission.” He smiles into your hair as he rocks back and forth with you in his hold, fingers skillfully undoing the button of your Jujutsu tech blazer and even daringly undoing the top few buttons of the long-sleeved blouse underneath.

Your undershirt peeks out, the beginnings of skin that the average eye could never get a peek at revealed to his gaze as he hums, turning his back to you momentarily as he looks around for one of the sleep shirts he was sure he had laying around.

And it makes you wonder, when he finally leaves you alone, finally gets his hands off of you and let you breathe— Even if he was only an arm’s length of a distance away from you… That you truly wonder how pathetic you’ve become.

You didn’t notice it until you felt the flare of his touch on your skin, the way his body was so warm, so close. You didn’t notice it until you were left completely alone in this big, big school, until you were drained of interaction from the outside world, from anyone else that wasn’t a sorcerer.

Did the sky always look so bleak? Was staying here everyday in this school, aimlessly wandering, studying and training taking a toll on you? You’re improving, right? You’ve got to be. You’ve been at it for days, weeks and months.

(Were you always like this?)

So why can’t he, your dearest Satoru, the strongest who could take on any mission, who was too busy to be able to take on curses that were considered ‘small fry’ tell you anything about your next mission? Why does Yaga always claim that there weren’t any available? Why do you feel so strange? Are you doubting them? Them, your closest friends, your only teacher, the people that you trust with your entire life—

A rustle breaks you out of your thoughts, Satoru with a towel thrown over his shoulder and his shirt unbuttoned to reveal the milky, taut skin underneath signalling that he was going to shower.

(Maybe you’re thinking too much.)

“Ehh— I’m pretty sure Suguru washed the pajamas ya left here not long ago, so just wear one of mine or his, ‘kay?” He pauses when he watches you swallow— Before your eyes so adorably avert away from him to nod your head.

So cute. It makes him just want to tease you all the more, really.

“Mannn… I feel way too tired to even think about washing my hair…!” He fakes his dramatics, his hand ruffling through his own white locks as he watches you through one eye, eagerly watching the way you nervously swallowed as you hug yourself tighter out of bashfulness.

Maybe it isn’t so bad to keep you holed up in this place, afterall.

[bloodxbat]

Stress Relief

Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, MDNI, praise, degradation, breeding?, oral (male recieving), face fucking

Word Count: 1,446

Summary: Gojo comes back home to you after a long day and mission. He uses you as his stress relief…and you love it.

A/N ello ello, I know this might not be the best (I finished this at 3am lmao) but it’s a start and i’m so hyped for all you Gojo lovers to read this!! I’m absolutely on a chokehold from that man! 

Masterlist

Taglist

Ko-fi

It was silent in your apartment. Satoru was out on a mission as always and probably wouldn’t be home for another hour. You were trying to relax and watch the TV but anytime he’s out on a mission you can’t help but stress, each night he comes back,,,,he’s not himself. The stress of each mission is slowly tearing away at his positive personality and it’s heartbreaking to witness. 

Being the most powerful modern sorcerer comes with a reputation of never failing. Being the best. If it takes Satoru even slightly longer to complete a mission it was as if his world was breaking apart bit by bit each time. 

You were just about to go lay in bed ready to sleep as the clock ticked 3am, until you heard the rattle of the door opening. You almost broke an ankle breaking into a sprint through the hallway to see your boyfriend standing at the door. 

“Toru?” 

He was covered in blood, not sure if it was his own or someone else’s. His blindfold still covering his eyes, desperate to look you move closer hesitantly. Each step echoed through the apartment as your slippers hit the cold wooden floor. Gojo stood still, breathing heavily. 

Reaching up you take off his dark blindfold, letting his snowy hair fall down. His normal sparkling bright blue eyes are dark and full of lust. Like an animal that caught sight of its prey.

“Toru, are you ok?” 

Your hand grazes his cheeks and his hand flies up and grasps your wrist tightly. Staring into your eyes he growls out.

“I’ve had a very-very rough day my love, so what I need you to do…what you’re going to do, is get undressed, go into the bedroom and lay there waiting for me ... .understood?” 

You nod your head weakly, biting your lip as you feel the wet patch beginning to form in your pants. Walking to your shared room you leave behind a trail of your nightwear leading through the hallway. Whenever Gojo was in this mood you knew your purpose…and you loved it. To be used by the most powerful sorcerer would be most girls' dream, but only you got to live it, and for the rest of your life. 

Laying on the bed you hear Gojos footsteps getting louder and louder as they approach the bedroom. Squeezing your legs in anticipation as you felt the bed dip with your boyfriend's weight. His hands lay above your head supporting himself above you. He looks down all over your curved body and lets out a moan with a smirk and cocky laugh. 

“Look at you, so perfect, so fucking beautiful, all mine” 

You shiver as his hands grapes onto your sides and squeeze as he trails them down the rest of your body. It’s not often Gojo deactivates his infinity technique given that he is pretty wanted by a lot of the cursed spirits that roam japan. But for you, he’d do anything, you were his oxygen, his purpose, his plaything. 

His slender fingers reach your heat as he slides them through your folds and you both moan at the feeling. 

“Mmmm fuck, all nice and wet for me, haven’t even done anything to you yet” he lets out a breathy laugh “what is it that gets you so worked up, is it my touch? Or is it my voice” 

“B-both” 

He laughs at your pathetic stutter.

“Wow I really do have you all worked up, good.”

The bed rises as Gojo gets off the bed. He begins to undress, he kicks off his shoes, and tears off his outer shirt. Painfully slowly as if to tease you, he knows what he’s doing, the anticipation of seeing his god-like naked body seemed to go on forever. 

Once he gets down to just his boxers you can feel your own drool drip down your chin, it will never not take your breath away at just how big he really is. His hard cock desperate to be freed from his boxers. 

You sit up at the edge of the bed, wordlessly begging him to move closer and he does. You pull down his boxers exposing his cock, the red tip soaked and dripping with precum. 

As if it were instinct you instantly take his cock into your mouth, tasting him and moaning around him. Gojos hands fall into your hair as you bob your head onto him.

“Fuck, didn’t even need to ask you, just like a whore you just get on with your job huh? Sh-it darling so fucking good with your mouth” He moans loudly. 

He thrusts his hips into you, forcing you to take all of him down to the balls, small gags escaping your lips as he hits the back of your throat. At this point you don’t need to do anything as Gojo has grabbed onto your hair moving your head for you, fucking your throat, using you. 

A mix of your drool and his precum now coats the floor beside the bed as he pulls out of your throat, grabbing your chin forcing you to look up at him. Your face covered in spit and your eyes watering from your gags.

“You’re my fuck toy aren’t you darling, get to use you for stress relief after a hard day at work”

You nod your head agreeing, wanting, needing him to continue using you. He lets out a laugh as he pushes you down onto the bed. Climbing on top of you, you can feel his cock grazing your clit. Gojo crashes his lips onto yours, instantly pushing his tongue down your throat, tasting himself on your tongue. Both of you let out a moan, the sounds vibrating against each others lips. 

He swipes his cock up and down your folds before thrusting into you with a growl. 

“Fuck, so fucking tight for me, f-feels so fucking good baby, you’re mine, you belong to me and no one else. Who do you belong to, who does this pussy belong to? Hmmm nhhggg” 

“Y-you Toru belongs to you all for you and only f-f-for you FUCK” you almost scream as he picks up his pace.

The sound of your skin clapping together echoing round the room, both not caring who hears you and you moan loudly with each thrust. Gojo’s eyes are filled with drunk lust, the feeling of your walls squeezin around him is almost too much for him to handle.

He flips you over so your ass is in the air. Your face pressed down into the pillows, muffling your noises as he re enters you with a slam. You reach your hand down and start circling your clit with your finger. 

“Mmmmhhfff are you touching yourself baby? Yeah, such a slut flicking at your clit as I fuck you hard, keep going baby you’re squeezing against me with every movement, feels so fucking good” 

You can feel the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot. You just know he’s bruising your insides with how big and hard he is. The thought makes you even more weak, the fact that your limps tomorrow will show everyone just how well Satoru Gojo can pleasure you, just how much he uses you. 

It’s not long before you’re both almost at the edge, both pulsing and silently begging to cum. But you know you shouldn't’ even dare, not without Gojo.

“M’gettin close Toru, gonna fucking cum nnnhhhgg please, please can I cum, i-i’ve been so good please” 

Gojo keeps thrusting in you with an animalistic growl each time, driving you even more crazy. 

“Cum with me darling, come on cum with me as I fill you up uuugghhh” he moans out

With one final thrust you both reach your climax with a scream and groan. Gojo paints your insides with his cum as you soak him and the bed with yours. Your eyes are heavy and body weak from being thrown around and used. The very feeling you love each time, to feel so used. 

Gojo collapses next to you on the bed. Both of you are breathing heavily. You watch as his muscled chest rises and falls with every breath. Sweat drips down his forehead as his hair sticks to it. 

“You’re such a good stress relief my love, you have no idea”

“Glad I can be of assistance” you laugh out breathlessly.

Gojo chuckles as he pulls you close to him, laying your head on his chest, he leans down and kisses you gently on the head. You look up and kiss him, smiling like an idiot, bathing in the fact that you know, Satoru Gojo is yours…forever.

taglist: @writing-wh0re @skarlettmikaelson

[cryptid-writer]

It's agony, his transformation. Bones cracking and shifting and growing as his body becomes too big, splitting open at the seams. It hurts so much he can't make a sound, like having the wind punched out of him, like when Falin punched him with draconian strength that crack-fracture-broke his ribs. Blood drips like tears from his eyes, drips from his nose, from his mouth. The strain too great for a human body to contain but forced to hold up, commanded by something greater than magic, something with greater intent. It is infinite. Who knew infinity could hurt so much, hollowing out a vessel to reshape it. Skin scrapes against the floor, dragging dragging dragging, he isn't even aware he's dragging the danger- himself- away from vulnerable companions. Protect protect protect drums like a deafening subconscious mantra, leaving a ruby trail on pavement stones. Still he drags drags drags, has to get away, has to keep the monsters from Chilchuck and Falin and Marcille. It's a task he doesn't notice, too busy with new nerves forming and setting alight as muscle and skin and fur come in. As he grows new limbs and horns split his skull and claws scrape pavement stones. It hurts hurts hurts, like a rat trapped in a cage covered in hot coals with no escape. A great lumbering body taking shape behind him, with paws that are far greater at dragging him away and gigantic wings too big to unfurl here to fly but he can stretch out, feathers brushing against stone above.

[takadokii]

a touch worth dying for !! .ೃ࿐

pairing gojo x gn!reader summary satoru is reckless, ready to meet death if he has to, to get you to at least look at him. he doesn't want to tell you that you're the first person he lets touch him in years and simply appreciates that you're so gentle. warnings minor descriptions of wounds wc 700

collection masterlist | my masterpost

this is an additional chapter of my series "caught in the middle", if you enjoyed this, consider checking it out! <3

This has never happened before, Satoru thinks.

His eyes are glued to your movements, gentle hands gliding up and down his arm, turning it and moving it around as you please. And he lets you, of course.

The pain he feels is new, foreign. The aching that consumes his body feels like a distant memory, one before he had learned to control his Infinity. One when the world was still able to reach him. 

There’s a gash that’s covering his chest, and his lower lip is bust open, the blood that had dripped down already wiped away by a cloth, though all he remembers about that was the way you held his chin so gently with the other hand.

“I don’t know what you were thinking,” you continue to scold him as you scan the rest of his body for injuries, starting off with his arms as you carefully settle your fingertips against his skin and letting it trail up his arm.

He shrugs at your words, though he actually does have a vague memory of what he was thinking when purposefully deactivating his Infinity in the middle of getting attacked by a curse. 

At that moment, his eyes met yours, and he recalled a few days ago when he heard your laughter echo through the hallway. He followed it before he had time to think about what he was doing and was met with a sight that made his heart stop. There you were, kneeling, tending to his best friend's wounds with soft, caring touches. 

All he could think about, as the sharp teeth of the curse were heading his way, was the feeling of your skin on his. 

He was bruised and bleeding in a way that hadn’t happened since he was four at best, and still, seeing you now, a strand of hair slipping from behind your ear as you lower your head to inspect his body, he couldn’t help but think it was worth it.

The most obvious injury, a giant gash along his torso, had already been somewhat tended to, and despite using your Cursed Technique, it didn’t heal fully, so you continued to dab the wound as blood dripped from it in a steady rhythm.

He wasn’t sure if you could feel it, your hand on his lower abdomen when just inches above, his heart was pounding at being so close to you, so vulnerable and exposed to you in more ways than he had ever known.

He wants you to see him like this. He realised as he watched Suguru get tended to in envy.

Satoru is aware it’s a twisted and wrong desire of his, but he can’t help but revel in the way you look so worried about him. 

He’d do it all over again, he knows, just to keep your eyes on him a little longer. 

“Isn’t the whole point of Infinity that nothing can touch you?”

He just hums along. 

“But you let that curse touch you?” You’re still confused. In the months you’ve known him, this has never happened before, especially not in a high-stakes situation.

And you. He thinks, well aware of your fingers pressing a little harsher against his wound now.

“I was distracted,” he finally answers, the shrug he gives you is lazy, and it provokes you even more.

You click your tongue and lick your lips, the tissue you held up to his wound wasn’t as bloodied as the other ones, and so you reach for the bandages now that his bleeding had slowed down.

He lets his eyes linger on your lips, the bottom one pulled between your teeth as you focus on wrapping it around his torso. He likes that you’re too lazy to walk around him, so whenever you have to reach behind him, your face is inches from his chest for a second.

When you’re finally done, your shoulders slump, and you meet his eyes.

You look tired, he realises, and suddenly, a pang of guilt washes over him.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he says. It’s sincere, and you know it, but you return his gaze with mixed emotions, your frown showing your confusion and your anger all the same.

You reach for his hand, the very first time, almost instinctively. Not because he’s hurt but simply because you want to touch him, and he lets you.

“Go get some sleep.”

im sorry i havent published in so long, ill try to get more side chapters out while working on the main one, though getting the main story done is my priority of course!

i love you all soo much and i want to say thank you again for being patient and reading my silly little stories.

much love, jae <3

[squirrelsqwirow]

HC: lovesick!muzan x fem!demonreader

a/n: I love the idea of a powerful, intimidating man being head-over-heels for his wife cw: mentions of death, cannon setting, slight yandere, suggestive themes, odd use of blood cause demons, ooc a bit????

lovesick!muzan who rules as the demon king, feared by both demons and humans alike, a murderer of thousands, a egocentric psychopath who believes himself to be a god walking earth, a heartless, cold man who cares not for others and only for his self-gain

lovesick!muzan who would only kneel for his beautiful wife - the demon queen

lovesick!muzan who ensures that your existence is kept a lethal rumour - lower demons tremble when they utter the title 'demon queen' for they fear muzan will hear them - and he does

lovesick!muzan who's eyes sharpen when one of his pathetic creations dares speak of you, and is by their side within a blink, hand dug deep into their stomach, fingers wrapped around the spine and with one harsh pull, they are left motionless as the sun peaks over the buildings

lovesick!muzan who confirms your existence with his upper moons by having you join his side at his last meeting over one-hundred years ago - they hadn't seen you since

within the stomach of the infinity castle, atop a risen platform you lay comfortably with your head on your husbands lap. muzan looked down with disgust at his supposed upper moons - the most powerful products of his unwavering hatred, yet in that moment all he felt with disappointment. his hand was gentle as it ran across your jewelled hair, careful to not catch on the golden accessories. "they're pathetic," you had said. muzan hummed as you continued: "loyal but incompetent." "I give them power and a simple request in return," he stroked your cheek and your eyes closed. "Yet they have nothing to show for it." muzan's voice sharpened and he narrowed his eyes as all but one upper moon looked displeased. "imperfection isn't acceptable."

lovesick!muzan who allows you and only you to keep him company in his lab - he prefers to work in silence, but if you take an interest in his love for chemistry he will answer every question with a smile so small only you can see it

lovesick!muzan who believes his wife to be the most intelligent individual he's ever met - calm, cunning, vicious, elegant with a strong desire for destruction and power - he'd never think so highly of anyone else

lovesick!muzan who stares at his wife constantly - any lesser being would assume him to be glaring, but you've known him long enough to see the love in his stare - he doesn't like being caught staring, and most times isn't, but he lets his guard down around you

lovesick!muzan who will give you his blood without hesitation, for you are the demon queen and therefore deserving of all this power

muzan swiftly sliced the pad of his index finger with the sharp nail of his thumb. he delicately took your face in his hands and your mouth fell open, tongue resting against your lower, red lip. he smiled and slowly placed his index on the base of your tongue and dragged it to the tip - silk-like red trailing his finger. it was like iron in your mouth, a metallic tang as you swallowed. muzan kissed you next, soft and chaste with his lips flush against your own. as he pulled away, he could feel the thickness of your red lipstick against his lips, and his cunning suspicion was confirmed as you smiled largely.

lovesick!muzan who creates a unique deep red lipstick for only you, specially crafted in his lab and injected with his blood - it was vivid against your complexation, often attracting the attention of many human women who would approach you asking for the store you purchased it from

lovesick!muzan who swells with pride when you tell them it's custom made by your intelligent husband

lovesick!muzan who doesn't sleep very often - nor do you, but when you lie down for a nap every decade or two, he will only protest once before joining you under the covers

lovesick!muzan who sleeps on his back with your arm slung over his chest and your face buried in the crook of his neck - he's not one to fall asleep fast, but he stays and rubs small circles into your shoulder as you sleep peacefully

lovesick!muzan who will admire you as you sleep, tracing your facial features and planting small pecks to your forehead - one of the very few times he'll smile kindly

lovesick!muzan who ventures into the human world with you on his arm, visiting the wealthiest parts of Japan and purchasing you anything you stare too long at - a foreign gold necklace, a luxurious kimono - anything, ask him for anything and it's yours

lovesick!muzan who knows you long to travel the world, but it is too much of a risk with sunlight still damning him to the shadows - but he gives you his word, that once he has conquered the sun and given you the same ability will he give you the world

lovesick!muzan who would rip cities apart and massacre villages if it brought a smile to that lovely face - he would approach you when it's done, drenched in blood yet not a hair out of place

he approached with arrogance in his step, pressed black suit velvet under the moons light. he stop before you and kneeled. his deep voice drawled: "have I pleased you, my love?" his eyes - a sharp red like the splatters of blood against his pale face - looked up at you expectantly. muzan knew you were, but oh how he loved to hear it. you smiled: "I'm beyond pleased, such a wonderful sight." as he rose you cupped his cheek and caressed the skin beneath his eye. "you always know how to make me happy."

lovesick!muzan who would tear any man or woman apart for staring at you with anything akin to lust or want - you are no longer phased by this habit of his

lovesick!muzan who drowns you in praise and whispers of love, paired with chaste kisses to your hands and cheeks

lovesick!muzan who ensures that his beloved wife lives a life of luxury and class, never needing to lift a finger, never needing to raise her voice, never needing to demand anything twice because it is done instantly

lovesick!muzan who bathes you in the finest blood - he'll sit on the edge of the large tub and read to you one of his many favourite poems or stories

you sat against the tub and leaned your head against the rest, a smile on your face. your knees poked from the red liquid, droplets running down the smooth skin of your thighs. his words were soft and deep as he recited a poem only a mind like his could understand. they lulled you to a peaceful mood, not quite asleep, but in a conscious state where all you could hear were your husbands words, and all you could feel was his hand linked with yours.

lovesick!muzan who initially refused to involve you in his work, but upon your constant pestering he finally admitted to his goal - the search for the blue spider lilly

lovesick!muzan who appreciated your efforts to finding this flower for him - you created a garden in a place between space and time, a dimension only the powerful could enter, and planted every seed you got your hands on in hopes that one day the blue flower would sprout from the ground

lovesick!muzan who adores your attempts to help him and loves visiting your garden when he is stressed - although he isn't confident this is the best way to find this flower, he appreciates the effort and comes to find peace within the garden

lovesick!muzan who, during upper moon meetings, will compare his demons to you

"in the past month my wife has made far more progress in obtaining the blue spider lilly than any of you have in the last century," muzan sneered and looked down upon his most powerful creations. such a waste of blood they turned out to be - perhaps he should consider replacements. "please, my lord! please forgive us!" hantengu cried on his hands and knees. "I do not want excuses," muzan said with a narrowed glare. he overlooked all his upper moons and felt disgust in the pit of his stomach at how far they had fallen. centuries they had lived, thousands they has slaughtered and consumed without mercy, hundreds they tortured for entertainment, yet they fall short when finding a flower. how dishonorable, how frustrating, how insulting to his and his wife's name. "I want results."

lovesick!muzan who met you when he was human, the beautiful, kind and intelligent daughter of his doctor, and never cared for you in the beginning, but as you appeared more and more, he grew to enjoy your company

lovesick!muzan who fell in love and so desperately wanted to give you the life you deserved, but from the confines on his bed it seemed impossible

lovesick!muzan who grew bitter and angry at the thought that one day soon he would die and you would take another man - he swore to you that if he lived he would give you everything you deserved

lovesick!muzan who becomes a demon thanks to your fathers innovation, and quickly turns you too, making work of his promise in giving you everything you deserve - power, wealth, loyal servants, a kingdom and a title

lovesick!muzan who never would have fallen in love with you had you not been there since the very beginning, but is so thankful you were because he cannot bare to think how empty and lonely his life would be without you

[satorusugurugurl]

L.O.M.L

Summary: On Late August day, you and Nanami go out to dinner, where you reveal a wonderful surprise.

Pairing: Nanami Kento x FAB!Reader

Word Count: 5,682

Warning: angst, character death, mentions of blood, pregnancy complications, Shibuya incident, angst

A/N: I am so sorry. 🥲

The normal clanking of knives against plates, the murmur of conversation around you was nearly silent as you waited. With a glance around the bakery you and Nanami often visited, you spot your fiance walking in. He was sporting his blue down top, suit jacket resting over his arm, and tie off. His typical ‘off the clock' aesthetic. Honey-brown eyes glanced through the bakery before landing on you. His smile was soft as he hurried forward, avoiding other customers before bending over and kissing your lips.

“Hello love, don't you look stunning? You're practically glowing.”

“I'm just happy to see you!” Nanami chuckled, nodding as he slid into the booth across from you. “I hope you don't mind, but I ordered a drink for you already.”

“That’s perfectly fine, you know what I like.” Nanami yawned into the back of his hand. “I was thinking that perhaps we can go for dessert after this, maybe to that ice cream parlor you like.”

“Mhmm, I think that sounds like a great idea!”

“One iced green tea.” The young waitress sat the drink down before him, giving you a wink before she walked away.

Nanami looked up from the menu to thank the waitress for bringing his drink. Something caught his eye just as he turned his head to look at her. Sitting in front of him was a glass of iced green tea. It wasn’t in a glass but a baby bottle: bright blue lid, yellow teat, and measuring lines. Your fiance blankly stared at the baby bottle, looking at it as if it were a puzzle that could not be solved. The confusion in his eyes settled into a look of annoyance.

Nanami stood up, his eyes searching the restaurant for someone. “Kento?” You asked, confusion thick in your voice. “Babe, what in the world are you doing?” With an exasperated sigh, Nanami turned to look back down at you.

“I think a certain blindfolded freak followed us here.” The veins in his neck bulged in frustration over the prospect of Gojo being there.”I had a little mishap at work today. I didn’t realize the lid to my coffee wasn't secure enough. so when I tried to take a drink, it spilled down the front of my jacket.” Trying to imagine your ordinarily prim and proper fiancé with a coffee stain down his coat was a sight you were slightly intrigued to see. “Gojo thought it was the funniest thing in the entire world. He insisted that he invest in hundreds of sippy cups until I learned how to drink properly. It's a thing to tease me at work but another to do after hours. So, if you excuse me, I need to try to find a way to get through his infinity.”

Before Nanami could begin his manhunt, you gently grabbed his wrist, ceasing his momentum. “It wasn't Gojo.” You softly said, winning a puzzled look from Kento.

“If it wasn’t Gojo, then who was it?”

Your heart felt like it would explode from how fast it was beating against your rib cage. He needed to know. Nanami watched as you reached into your bag with trembling fingers, grabbing a rectangle box and sliding it in front of him. Your throat felt so incredibly dry that you took a sip of water to ease the burning sensation as Nanami picked up the box.

The whole world seemed to freeze when Nanami opened the box lid. Inside it, a pregnancy test with the lid secure. Nanami’s eyes trail to a blue positive sign in the center of the test. His eyes lingered on that blue plus sign; it seemed like an eternity before his honey-brown orbs slowly traveled to your face. He bore an unreadable expression; you weren’t sure if that was better than him freaking out or ten times worse.

“I-I—well, I was feeling a bit nauseated this morning, and I noticed I hadn’t started my period yet.” The bustling sounds of the busy bakery turned into a muffled noise as you stared directly at the table's surface. “So I figured I should check when you left for work this morning. I thought maybe it was just a stomach bug, something I would be over in twenty-four hours; I hadn’t expected it to be positive.”

“Love—”

“I know this isn’t part of the plan. We wanted to get married first and save up some money.” Thundering heartbeats pounded inside your eardrums, muting the outside world around you. “I’m sorry; I’m the one who suggested that we mess around when we were both drunk last month.”

“Love—”

“‘M’ so sorry. I know you would prefer for things to go differently and more smoothly. I ruined that for us.”

Thoughts of that drunken passion came flooding back to you. You both had one too many drinks at a work function. There had been a lot of kissing, necking, and fondling on the elevator ride back up to your hotel room. One thing led to another, and one condom-less sex session later, you found yourself pregnant with his baby. Something neither of you intended to happen until maybe five years down the road, maybe less if things were good. You getting knocked up six months before your wedding was not in the plans.

A large hand cupped your cheek before you could start spiraling into intrusive thoughts. Lips so soft and warm pressed against yours in a gentle kiss. A strangled gasp rose in your throat as Nanami turned his head, deepening the kiss. Both of his hands cupped each side of your face. He was so gentle and kind, putting all of his love into that single kiss.

Nanami finally managed to pull himself away from you, his fingers gently caressing your face before he sat back down in front of you. His hands cradled the box that you had given him. Looking into his eyes, there was no trace of anger or frustration. There was nothing but hope and love in his iris’.

“You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner. you’re kind, compassionate, and so undesribilingly beautiful.” A wet tear hit the surface of the table. “You’re giving me a life I never knew I wanted until I met you. Any other man would’ve been content just that. But you're giving me something I can’t even describe.” he placed the lid back onto the box. “You’ve given me hope, unconditional love, and a future.”

“Kento—”

“Don't you dare apologize for that.” he gently scolded, placing the back so gently to the side as if it would shatter. “It may not have been in our plans, but who cares?” Large, calloused fingers gently gripped yours, holding them tight. “We’re going to be just fine, you, me, and our little one.”

Happy tears streamed down your cheeks as Nanami ran his thumb over. “You're right!” you brought his hands to your lips, peppering kisses over his larger hands. “Everything is going to be perfect.” The joy etched over Nanami’s face had your heart racing with pure excitement instead of the dread it had felt ever since you saw that positive sign.

Everything would work out as long as your fiancé was by your side. Your child may not have been planned, but that didn’t mean it would be loved any less. Things would be okay; they would be even better, not that you were expecting a little one soon.

For the first month, things were perfect aside from the morning sickness and the fatigue. You’ve also had a never-ending craving for frozen yogurt and sauerkraut. Not together, of course; your cravings hadn’t gotten that weird yet. Nanami was so perfect. He held your hair back while you vomited in the early hours of the morning, he’d bring you home frozen yogurt when you didn’t even have to ask, and he would massage your back ever so gently before his hands gently pulled out your lower abdomen.

The hands gently stroked your lower abdomen. “My sweet little bean.” he would whisper in your ear, his eyes glancing down at his hand. “I can't wait to meet you. I bet you’ll look just like your mommy.” The tenderness of his tone had you cuddling into him and sighing contently as his palms rested against you.

Moments like that were perfect.

But things took a turn so quickly it could give whiplash. It started as a typical day, nothing out of the ordinary until you were out grabbing some groceries. There was a sharp, stinging pain in your lower back. You thought nothing more of it than just a strained muscle. But when you walked into the restroom to use it, pulling your underwear down to your knees, you saw a stain of red.

Panic settled in as you began to wonder what was going on. You had done everything right. You listened to your doctors, read all the baby books, and even took your vitamins like you were supposed to. So why, why was this happening?

You immediately called Nanami. He stopped what he was doing, rushing to meet you at the doctor's office. Much like when you first told him that you were pregnant, your heart was racing against your rib cage like a hammer to a nail. Only this time, it wasn’t from excitement; it was from terror.

The dread and the panic settled in the pit of your stomach. Noticing your anxiety, Nanami gently took your hand, letting you know he was here for you no matter what. And while you knew he was trying to be kind to let you know that he was here to hold the burden of the unknown with you, that only seemed to worsen things. If something were wrong, you would not be able to live with the guilt; your fiancé had been so excited, you were excited.

Your stomach twisted as the doctor came in. “Well, let’s look and see what’s going on with your baby.” You laid back against the medical exam table. You were shuddering as he poured the cool jelly against your lower abdomen before performing an ultrasound. You knew something was wrong. Not once did the doctor turn towards you. Instead, the screen was securely in front of his face, an unable expression plaster against it. That expression must’ve taken years of practice to master. An expression that screamed he knew something was wrong, but he didn’t want to alarm his patients.

“Is everything okay with our little bean?” Nanami tentatively asked, sensing the same thing you had.

“I’m not seeing anything wrong, per se. I think it’s just a little too early for us to see your little bean right now.”

“I'm sorry, but what?” you sat up on your elbows as a doctor began wiping off the jelly. “What do you mean you can’t see them? Isn’t that a bad thing?”

The doctor and your fiancé exchange the books with one another. “Not necessarily. I checked both your fallopian tubes, and I didn’t see that it’s an ectopic pregnancy, so that’s good. It could be that your little bean is too small for us to see on the monitor.”

“Or there’s no bean at all. It’s possible that it didn’t stick right; it wasn't viable?”

“Love—” your fiancé looked at you as if you had broken his heart with your words.

“Yes, that is a possibility, too.” You felt like the whole world was about to crash down on you. Nanami, tighten this hand on yours before glancing at the doctor.

“But there’s still a chance, right?”

“Of course, like I said, it might be too early. Before you leave, I want to have some blood work drawn. That way, we know for sure.”

Several tubes of blood later and a very silent car ride home, you and Nanami walked into the apartment. You headed straight for the kitchen, pulling out pots and pans to prepare dinner, but your attempts were throttled. Nanami snatched the pots and pans away from you. Whirling around, you reached for the pans.

“Give me that back.” Your tone is sharp and short as you yank a pan back.

“Were you not listening to what the doctor told you when we left? You’re supposed to be resting in bed.”

“Why? I'm bleeding; that's never a good sign.”

Nanami pulled the pan out of your hand as you reached for it again. “You're spotting there's a difference.” A soured scoff left your mouth. “Don’t act like it's over; our little bean is strong.” he placed the pans down, hands reaching for your lower stomach, but before they could touch you, you slapped them away.

“Kento! Stop it! Please!” Tears ran down your cheeks as you choked on a sob. “Please! All day, I've been having this feeling of dread! It didn't stick!”

The tension flooded the room, which was so thick you could almost cut it with a knife. You stared down at the floor, your own hands cradling your stomach while he hovered just in front of you. Kento wanted to touch you, but you had made it clear by smacking his hands away that you didn’t want that.

But seeing you so visibly upset had Kento fighting his instincts. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you in for a hug. Smelling his cologne and feeling the warmth of his body against yours was the final straw—the reins on the emotions you have held back slipped from your grasp. You shoved your face into his chest; soft sobs rocked through you. While you were having a breakdown, Kento gently rubbed his hands up and down your back.

“It’s going to be okay.” His words were muffled as he pressed his lips against your head. “Our little bean is going to be.”

Pulling back with tear-stained cheeks, you hiccuped, taking a deep breath. “A-And what if it’s not?!” Nanami’s smile was across between sorrow and happiness.

“If that does happen, which I doubt it is, we’ll try again.”

“We will—?”

“Of course, we will.” His lips pressed against your head, pulling back to glance down at your sobbing figure. “I love you. I want to raise a family with you. We’ll get there eventually, I promise.”

His words held a sure hope in them. One that made you want to believe that he was right everything would work out for the best. But you also didn’t want to get your hopes up. For now, you will continue to do things as you were. Watching what you were eating and taking your prenatal vitamins, but not losing yourself in the serotonin that came with early pregnancy.

That could change in an instant.

“I love you too.” You whispered gently, grabbing his hands and placing them on your stomach. Nanami’s shoulders relaxed as he ran his hands over you with gentle, loving strokes.

“I love you both.” Without another word, Nanami ushered you to the bedroom, where he promptly tucked you into bed. “I’ll make us something to eat. You need to rest.”

While you wanted to help him, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t let you help. So you’ve fluffed your pillows and laid back against the headboard in defeat. You stayed like that for five minutes before you and Nanami’s phones went off.

Glancing at your screen, you stared at a summons text from Jujutsu High. You were being summoned to go to Shibuya to handle an incident. Just as you finished reading your message, Nanami walked into the bedroom. His eyes were glued to the screen before they quickly darted in your direction, taking note of your hand, which was still in your hand.

“Where did they summon you to?” He said tentatively.

“Shibuya, what about you?”

Nanami huffed out a sigh, running his hand against the back of his neck. “Shibuya.” His confirmation had you sitting up straight. “I’m going to call Yaga and let him know you won’t be joining me.” his words were sharp and cold, like an icepick to your heart.

“I can help; I may not know the reverse curse technique, but my barriers are the best in the business.”

“And our doctor put you on bed rest.” The sharpness of his tone let you know there would be no further discussion. Your fiancé was putting his foot down and would refuse to listen to any arguments you came up with. “So lay back down; I’m going to finish making your dinner before I head out.”

Watching him leave the room had you feeling all sorts of emotions: frustration, sadness, and dread. Something about this wasn’t right if you both were called in on the same mission. It had to be serious.

Different thoughts and outcomes were rolling through your head like a raging river. You had no clue what was waiting for your fiancé, leaving you feeling sick, souring the remains of your lunch. You thought you would be sick until Nanami came back into the room. He placed a piping hot mug of ginger tea on the nightstand beside you before laying a bed tray down in your lap with a bowl of steaming rice porridge.

“Oh, Kento, thank you.” Your fiancé gently kissed your cheek before kneeling next to the bed, his hand resting over the spot he’d been obsessed over.

“Daddy needs to go to work, but I’ll be home as soon as possible.” He traced a small heart over your skin. “I love you and Mommy very much, bean.” His honey-brown eyes, which you loved so much, glittered in the lamp beside you. “I love you; please get some rest; don’t hesitate to call me.”

“I love you too, Kento.”

Nanami grinned, putting on his glasses and jacket. “I’ll be home soon.” He pressed one final kiss to your lips before walking out the bedroom door.

The incident in Shibuya was worse than you had thought. Veils were brought down, there was no cell service, and you were anxiously staring at your phone's screen. Nanami texted you a few times before finally sending you two final messages.

Kento: We’re heading further in; I’ll check in with you in a little bit.

You: Please be safe. I love you.

Kento: I love you too.

That was the last message you received. Worry filled every ounce of your being as you anxiously texted everyone you knew who was at Shibuya. Between you keeping up with the updates on social media and searching for answers as to what was going on, just like everyone else, you were outside of the loop, which had your anxiety at an all-time high.

Nanami was okay; he was always okay. Before you knew it, he would walk back in with a big smile. He’d apologize for being late and complain all about the overtime he worked, and he would hold you. That’s precisely what was going to happen.

You should have known something was wrong when there was a knock on the door around noon that morning. “Did you lose your keys?” You asked as you opened the door, finding Yaga standing there, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. “Yaga?” You question, looking behind him, searching for Nanami.

“Can I come inside?”

“W-Where’s Kento?”

“Hun, please let me in—”

The dread lingering in your stomach rose to your throat as you stepped aside, allowing Yaga to walk in. He was solemn, not looking at you until you both sat at the kitchen table. Your hands felt like ice as Yaga began explaining what happened in Shibuya that he knew thus far.

Gojo had been sealed, and Itadori had been given more fingers; overall, it was a total massacre. So many died, and others were injured. Hearing all of the gory details, had you reaching for your lower stomach. In fear of what Yaga was going to tell you next.

“Is Kento okay? Is he at the hospital, or is Shoko taking care of him?” Yaga remained silent, not saying a single word leaving his lips. “Yaga.”

“Todo and Nitta Arata were called in from Kyoto. They found Itadori fighting the patch-face curse, Mahito.”

Your body went rigid as your vision blurred. Nanami had told you everything that happened with that curse. From his battle with it in the sewers, its technique, and the damage it had done. That curse nearly killed Nanami and Itadori. Hearing about a curse that could alter the shape of a soul had chills running down your spine. Your fiance had said that if he wasn’t dealt with in a timely manner, he would become too strong.

It seemed as though he was right.

“That doesn't answer my question—where’s Kento?” your former high school teacher said nothing again. “Yaga, you need to tell me what happened.”

“When they arrived, itadori was not in a very good state given the circumstances.” Of course, he would be like that. Having Sukuna take control and run a rampage through the city and having to live with that would traumatize anyone. “Mahito touched Nobara, and well—” Yaga trailed off, “we’ll see what happens with her, but Yuuji also informed Todo that Nanami—”

You didn’t wait for him to continue. You stood up, frantically searching for your keys and your jacket. “Stop, let’s go. I need to see him.” Yaga followed after you, gently grabbing your shoulders to stop you. “I need to be by his side. He would do the same for me!” Yaga tightened his grip on you, grabbing your keys and slamming them on the counter.

“Sit down, please.”

“W-Why?” Tears welled in your eyes. “W-We have to go! I need to be with him! Yaga, please!” he helped ease you into the chair before kneeling in front of you. “Yaga?” Your former teacher took his glasses off, holding them between his fingers.

“Itadori told both of them that Nanami—” he swallowed, “Nanami was killed.”

It felt as though your stomach fell out of your body, followed by your heart. You rocked back in the chair, eyes widening as Yaga grabbed your hand. Time stopped; neither you nor Yaga moved or breathed. Heavy breathing filled the silence as the tears fell from your eyes. No way, there was no way he was gone; your Kento w-wouldn't have been taken out—no, he said he would be home soon!

Your stomach churned as you shook your head. “N-No, no, he—” Looking around your apartment, which was full of memories with him, you searched for Kento like it was a bad dream. “H-He was just here—he made me food—” Yaga squeezed your hand gently. “He said he'd be home soon.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“No, no, I don't believe you.” You tried getting up, but your body remained glued to the chair as the shock settled in. “I need to see him. Take me to him, Yaga.”

“There's nothing to see; I refuse to let you see the state they found him in. I can't give you the closure you want.” More tears fell as you struggled to breathe. “We were only able to confirm that it was Nanami because we found his blunt blade and wallet.”

You were going to be sick; your hand covered your mouth as Yaga reached into his back pocket, pulling out a cloth. He gently placed it on the table next to you. Your icy, trembling fingers reached forward, picking up the fabric and unwrapping it. You discovered what was hidden underneath it. Nanami’s wallet sat there in the palm of your hand. Opening it, you choked, seeing his ID.

Yaga kept apologizing as you flipped through the contents of your fiancè’s wallet. You looked through his cards, the money he had inside, before finally landing on a picture he kept of the two of you in the back. A wallet was all that you got? This pathetic piece of leather was your goodbye?

“I know it’s not his body, but it’s still a part of him.”

Part of him? You didn't want part of him; you wanted all of him here at home with you! Where he would caress your stomach absentmindedly while reading. Where you'd cook and share a meal. The two of you would blissfully talk about the future and what it had in store for you.

The nausea settled deep in your stomach as you got up on shaking legs. “I need some air.” As you stepped forward, the room spun, and you began falling forward.

Yaga was fast catching you in his arms as he helped steady you. “Easy there, I got you, hu—” His words trailed off before his muscles clenched. “You're bleeding.” Turning to follow his gaze, you saw a bloom of red staining your chair. “Shit, I’m taking you to the hospital.” Yaga was moving, but all you felt was a numbing sensation. Your eyes stayed locked on your chair before the door slammed shut.

You just lost the love of your life. Now, this was happening? Are you honestly going to lose the one thing he left behind that was a part of both of you? No, no, this wasn't fair! You wailed, screaming as Yaga rushed you out of the apartments into the car one of the assistant supervisors was driving. Yaga barked out an order before resting your head in his lap. Your hands rubbed over the spot Nanami always did as you hiccuped and screamed.

This wasn't real; it was all a nightmare, a terrible, horrible nightmare. But the chill that coursed through your veins and settled in your chest was a sick reminder. A reminder that this was, in fact, not a nightmare. This was reality. The harsh, cold reality that you were having to face on your own. one where your fiancé was dead, and you were bleeding when you were carrying his child. Nanami wasn't dead; this had to be some cosmic twisted joke. Why, on the same day you lost the love of your life, would you lose the last part you had of him?

“No,” you whispered, “no, they’re strong, they’re so strong like their daddy.” Break squealed as the door to the backseat opened. “They have to make it; they’re gonna make it.”

Lights were blurred as you were placed upon a gurney, faces crowded about you, voices shouting, commands, and barking out orders. The sickening smell of sterilizing chemicals flooded your nose, making the nausea worse. You were overwhelmed by the sounds, smell, and grief.

“Where’s that Ultrasound?!”

Cold jelly was on you as you thrashed around trying to find Kento, to look at the screen to see your baby. “I got nothing!” Someone screamed, making you sit up.

“No! No! Please! T-They're okay!”

“Miss, you need to relax.”

“Look again!” You pleaded before you were pushed back against the gurney. “Look again!”

“Easy! Relax!”

They weren't listening to you! You needed to make sure your child was okay! You could not lose them both, not on the same day. Your blurry eyes searched the faces around you, desperately trying to find honey-brown eyes. But he wasn't there. You needed him! Fuck you needed him so tucking bad!

“Kento!!” Your scream was so loud it made your ears ring as nurses and doctors worked around and above you. “P-Please! Please, I can't lose them too, Ken! I can't lose you both!!!”

A warmth washed over you like a warm hand, gently rubbing up and down your arm, easing you down into a calm state. Or maybe you were given something by the doctors, or the shock was making you drift out of consciousness. Your heart stopped thundering in your ears, slowing to a normal pace as your eyes began to shut. The blurry shapes around you faded into darkness.

That same warm caress had you stirring, blinking as the sound of ocean waves crashing drew you from your hellish nightmare. Slowly following the hand on you gasped, finding Nanami sitting before you. He was in his blue button-down top, tie long forgotten, just like the day you had told him you were pregnant. You sat up on pure white sand, tears rolling down your cheeks as you reached for him, cupping his face.

“Kento—”

“Love, I'm so sorry.” He turned, nuzzling his face into your palms. “I’m so sorry I left you both.”

“I love you.” The words were broken and full of disdain as you pulled him closer. “I love you, I love you.”

Blonde brows furrowed in sorrow as Nanami shut his eyes as tightly as possible. “I love you too, darling.” He huffed out a heavy sigh. “I love you both.” The way he shifted his arms had your eyes darting toward his chest, where a bundle lay in his arms. A bundle that wailed softly as he pushed the blanket back. “You were right.” Blinking tears away, you stared up at him in confusion.

“About what?”

“About her being strong like me.” His eyes filled with tears as he ran his knuckle over a chubby cheeks. “She's a fighter.”

“She?”

“And she’s beautiful like her mommy.” Kenton continued as he gently transferred the bundle into your arms. “She’s going to be smart like the both of us.” Nanami cupped your cheek, gently kissing you. “She’ll pull through, just like you will, and I’ll be right there with you, watching over my girls; I swear I’ll always be there.”

Pressing your forehead against his, you stared into those eyes you loved. “I love you, Kento.” He stared back, blinking slowly before pressing a chaste kiss against your lips while his hand rested against your tummy, making your heartache.

“I love you too.”

Shutting your eyes, you took a deep breath before opening them again. Big sparkling honey-brown eyes peered down at you, framed by thick lashes. They were full of concern as a tiny hand gently wiped a tear away from your eye.

“Mommy? Why are you cryin’?”

Sitting up, you quickly wiped your eyes before turning towards the four-year-old. “I was dreaming, little bean; I'm okay.” Blonde hair bounced as she tilted her head to the side. Her frilly pink swimsuit was on, and her yellow duck floaties squeaked as she wrapped her arms around your neck. “Oh, Kotoe.” You hugged her back, squeezing her gently. “Thank you, baby.” Your daughter pulled back, rubbing your cheek softly.

“Was it scary?”

“Nope, it was a good dream.”

“Good?”

“Mhmm,” You kissed her cheek, “your daddy just stopped by to say hi to us.” She smiled wide, looking up at the blue umbrella shielding you from the sun.

“Hi, Daddy!” She waved so enthusiastically. “I love you!” She focused her attention back on you. “Mommy, can Uncle Yuuji and Uncle Ino take me back to the water to play more?”

“Sure baby, just a little longer; Uncle Gojo and the others will be back soon with the watermelon and fireworks. Can I put some more sunscreen on you first?”

A bottle of sunscreen promptly landed beside you as Ino passed. “Already did it!” He ran for the water as Yuuji bolted by picking your daughter up.

“Ah, haha! Uncle Yuuji!!”

“Nana-Bean! Nana-Bean!” Yuuji chanted as he and Ino grabbed one of her hands, walking toward the water.

Nanami had been right; your little girl was strong, just like him. She fought and made it through a scary dark time in your life. Kotoe was your entire world; she was loved by you and everyone around you. It was all thanks to her that you found the strength to fight.

A warm caress brushed down your cheek as you watched your daughter pick up seashells. You learned into it, sighing happily. “Hi, Kento,” you whispered as the warmth spread. “Thanks for saying hi, I love you.”

Little Kotoe turned and looked back at you, holding up a pink shell she found. When she did, she saw a see-through man and recognized him immediately. Her father, Nanami Kento, whom she'd only seen in pictures and videos, sat on the beach towel beside you. His see-through hand gently rubs up your cheek.

“Nana-bean? Whatcha looking at?”

“My daddy!” She announced proudly before putting her seashell in her bucket. “He loves my mommy so much he comes and visits her!”

Ino and Yuuji shared a look before focusing on you. Both young men felt an ache in their chests as their eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Does he visit a lot?” Yuuji asked as Kotoe dropped another seashell in her pink sand bucket.

“Mhmm! Daddy said Mommy is strong! The strongest! Stronger than Uncle Gojo!”

A shadow spread over the trio. “I’m sorry. Someone's stronger than me?” Kotoe looked up at Gojo, who held a watermelon over his shoulder.

“My daddy said my mommy is!”

“Oooh~” Gojo fixed his glasses, turning his head to smile at you as Maki and Yuuta sat with you. “Yeah, your mommy is strong. But your dad needs to shut his mouth, or I'll put a sippy cup on his altar.”

The trio all tilted their heads in confusion. Gojo smirked before telling them the story of Nanami spilling coffee down the front of himself the same day you had found out you were pregnant. The group busted into a string of giggles. You turned from Maki, watching your little girl throw her head back, rays of light surrounding her.

Once in a blue moon, Kento had mentioned to you that he told a girl at a bakery, ‘No one would mind if I was gone.’ he couldn't have been more wrong. There wasn't a day that you didn't miss him. So many people missed him; he had been taken far too soon.

Four years have passed since you lost the love of your life. But Nanami had blessed you with memories of him and helped make your little bean before his untimely departure. Knowing and loving him was one of the greatest honors bestowed upon you. It was the kind of love that transcended time. A once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that lived on through his pupils, his daughter, and you.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

[irisintheafterglow]

Heyy, can I request best friends to lovers with suguru geto pls? Maybe where reader is helping on the star plasma mission but gets a little jealous of Riko bc sugu is so focused on the mission that he hasn't spent much personal time with her?

Also! I adore the fic where sugu and reader are best friends on a mission together! Good work 👏

dazzling haze, mysterious way about you, dear

summary: on your last night on the star plasma mission, a trip for water becomes an interrogation.

wc: 1.5k

cw/tags: best friends to lovers, swearing, mild angst, satoru is the king of being unserious and you're having none of it

note: so many suguru fics that i will gladly provide🫡 also i'm sorry this took so long, i just started fall semester so my time has been a little limited lately. but thank you for the ask, i hope you like it!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated :D

It’s chilly in Okinawa, much colder than you imagined it would be. Despite the comfortable airflow of AC in your part of the hotel suite, something about the environment still felt stifling. It felt too empty, the bed too big and the sheets too barren. Water, you decide. Let’s get water and some fresh air.

Your intentions are abruptly thwarted by an idiot in the sitting room.

“Aw, come to check if I was okay?” Why do I even bother? You turn on your heel and head back in the direction of your bedroom, leaving Satoru pretzeled in his armchair. You’d just have to figure out how to fall asleep a different way, one that didn’t involve a change of scenery. Still, a loud whisper calls out to you as you make your way back down the hallway. “Hey, wait! Why are you actually up?” Giving him a skeptical look, your shoulder finds the side of the door frame and you cross your arms defensively. 

“Couldn’t sleep, duh. Why else would I be out here?” 

“Okay, grumpy, don’t duh me. I’m just wondering since you usually sleep the deepest out of all of us. Well, you and maybe…” His voice trails off and you watch the gears start to turn in his head. He knew there would be only one reason why you weren’t sleeping well. You shoot him a sour look preemptively and he narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Is something wrong between you and–”

“Alright, stop talking,” you state bluntly, pushing off the wall and finding your way to the corner of a sofa next to him. You want to slap the arrogant, aware-of-his-victory smirk off his face, but the daggers you’re staring into him are deflected by a shield of self-satisfaction. “Stop smiling like that, asshole.”

“Sorry, I just can’t help but laugh in the face of your suffering,” he shrugs with a patronizing lilt to his voice. You scoff and throw a pillow at him, to which he catches with one hand. Infinity off, you notice. He never turns on Infinity if it’s you, or Shoko, or Suguru with him. “Both my best friends are idiots in love, and both are suffering!”

“I think suffering is a little much.”

“Nope. It’s a little embarrassing, really.” His tone has turned to unabashed teasing and your face heats a little bit from pure indignancy. There’s no way Satoru put two and two together, right? Shoko’s epiphany was understandable; she seemed to always be watching, someway or another. Nanami only learned because Haibara figured it out first. You weren’t, however, anticipating the king of living in his own world to confront you. You put up a wall of confusion to hide the fact that he was poking dangerously close to your greatest secret. 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb. Or do, I don’t really care. This is entertaining.” He flashes a condescending grin that makes your blood boil. Yet, despite your best efforts, you couldn’t find the courage to leave. Retreating felt like running away, and you were determined to withstand Satoru’s stubbornness. 

“You are the biggest asshole to walk this Earth, Gojo Satoru,” you bite, shrinking away a little bit when uncannily blue eyes burn into your retinas. Unease sits in your stomach as he stares at you like he knows every single one of your thoughts and memories. It’s a feeling you wouldn’t wish on anyone, being the sole target of the strongest sorcerer on the planet. It had your forehead perspiring and knee bouncing unconsciously.

“And you are utterly in love with Geto Suguru,” he states. 

“How would you know that?” You sputter, immediately back on the defensive. 

“How could I not? You’re staring at him eight days a week, 25 hours a day.” You wish you could summon a fork from your domain and stab his stupidly determined eyes. Still, you think gaslighting the strongest sorcerer and your nosy best friend is a plausible option. 

“You’re out of your mind.” He sticks out his tongue defiantly. 

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not, no take-backs.” You groan and lean back into the cushions, a hand coming up to cover your tired eyes. “So, are you mad at him or something?” 

“I don’t owe you any explanation,” you snap, but with significantly less fervor than before. He’d caught you. 

“You don’t,” Satoru agrees. “But, I also know you’re dying to get it off your chest.” You peek out at him from behind your fingers and he’s still staring at you expectantly. “Well?” You exhale deeply before speaking, stalling the inevitable. 

“I’m…angry?” It’s more of a question than a statement and he snorts haughtily. 

“You don’t sound very sure.” 

“I hate you,” you glare. Of course, he wouldn’t take seriously anything you’re trying to verbalize.

“No, you don’t. Continue,” he ushers you on with a wave of his hand. “Why are you angry?”

“It’s dumb,” you mutter indignantly, silently praying he gets bored and drops the subject. However, the honored one is relentless.  

“You have a crush on Suguru. Can’t get much dumber than that.”

“What about being jealous when we aren’t in a relationship?” 

“You don’t need to be in a relationship to be jealous, you know.”

“Yeah, but it feels so wrong to want him when we’re supposed to be focused on the mission. I just want to make sure he’s okay.” 

“And, you want him to make sure you’re okay?” He’s right on the money and you despised it. 

“I guess so.”

“You know, he already does that about four million times a day,” he says, like the information should be obvious to you. “Check on you, ask if you ate, bring you water, the usual. It's up to you how you want to interpret that, but I think it's clear as glass.”

You exhale again, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees and your face in your hands. “I don’t know what to do, Satoru. I can't think clearly when he's around and I feel so immature.” 

“You’re not asking the right person for advice, you know.” You stiffen at the voice coming from the darkness of the hallway, his voice. Three thousand trains of thought derail all at once when he steps out into the moonlight of the room, looking absolutely stunning despite having just woken up. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, but you must be really desperate if you’re going to Satoru for advice before me,” he jokes as he sits down next to you on the sofa. He’s in such close proximity that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body and faintly smell his shampoo. 

“And the world must be ending if the deepest sleepers I know are both awake at the same time,” Satoru adds, shooting you a knowing look for half a second before returning his focus to Suguru. “If you two are taking over watch for a few minutes, I’m gonna go take a shi–”

“Please, leave before you finish that sentence,” Suguru interjects as Satoru’s body lankily disappears down the hall. You’re suddenly struck by an unwavering feeling of awkwardness, something you’ve never felt before with Suguru. He must have sensed the way your body tensed up, too, since he respectfully positions himself away from you ever so slightly. “Nightmare?” You shake your head, too exhausted and too emotionally drained to answer. “Thinking?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, fiddling with your fingers. You can feel his dark eyes staring at you, but you don’t look up at him for fear of him seeing the burning shame on your face. “Just thinking a little too much about the mission, is all.” 

“Just the mission?”

“Yeah,” you lie, and a glance at his face reveals a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What has you so entertained?” He chuckles softly under his breath, the faint light catching the sharp outline of his jaw. Fuck, you think. He’s so beautiful. 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve been awake since I heard the door of your room creak open,” he informs you and your stomach drops to your knees. “So I–”

“Heard everything,” you finish and put your head back into your hands, face on fire. “Just ignore whatever I said, rationalize it as a weird-ass dream or something–”

“Why would I wanna forget what you said?”

“Because you have bigger things to focus on,” you laugh, a little cynically.

“And I’m only able to focus on them because I have you to ground me,” he replies nonchalantly.

"What do you mean?"

“I like you too, genius. I thought it was obvious that I can barely see straight when you’re within a ten foot radius.” You smile, genuinely this time, and scoot back closer to him until your shoulders are touching. Carefully, your pinky reaches for his and eventually interweaves all of your fingers together. He lets you rest your head on his shoulder, inhaling deeply against your temple. 

“Can we do something about this after the mission is over? I don’t want to put more stress on either of us,” you whisper. 

“Of course, we can,” he murmurs, pressing the lightest kiss to your forehead. “Take your time; I’m already all yours.”

“You’ll wait for me?”

“However long you’ll let me.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[sleepiesttoken]

i was clearly extremely bored so i made a list: sleep token lyrics involving teeth, eating, consuming, swallowing etc. because vessel has a violent oral fixation

under the cut cause it’s kinda long

“you taste like new flesh” - jericho

“dripping from the open mouth, i’ll show you” / “make her eat the tape in the bathroom mirror” - nazareth

“you’ve got diamonds for teeth, my love so take a bite of me” / “but i know you’ve got a taste so just take a bite of me” / “so take a bite, i want to… take a bite” - the offering

“i wanna taste you better” -give

“no more teeth to bite with” - gods

“believe, that though we never eat, we still know how to feed” / “sugar, i’ve developed a taste for you now” / “sugar, i’ve got a taste for you now” - sugar

“show me those pretty white jaws” - jaws

“it’s easier to try not to eat” - atlantic

“sink, sink your teeth, split my skin, no just make me bleed” - hypnosis

“i asked and you answered, but you eat your words in frame” - descending

“as you breathe me out, i drink you in” - telomeres

“when the mouth of infinity, buries its teeth in me, i’ll smile through the agony for you” - high water

“and i’d give anything to borrow your indifference, i’d drink you in” / “to swallow my desire and choke on it” - missing limbs

“the taste of the divine” - the summoning

“between teeth on a broken jaw, following the blood trail, frothing at the maw” - aqua regia

“will we remain stuck in the throat of gods?” / “so let’s get swallowed whole” / follow me between the jaws of fate” - vore

“past what might be eating from the inside, darling” / “be the first to feast, let’s choke on the past” - ascensionism

“and there is something eating me alive, i don’t know what it is” - dywtylm

“come now, bite through these wires” / “grow back your sharpest teeth, you know my desire” / well, yeah, i spit blood when i wake up, sink porcelain stained, choking up brain matter and make-up” / “and i don’t know what’s got its teeth in me, but i’m about to bite back in anger” - take me back to eden

there’s certainly more but these just scream the loudest