#suguwife

[suguwife]

𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 and Y/N are trapped in an arranged marriage, intended only to produce an heir for the Gojo company. The cold and unfeeling Gojo despises her with every fiber of his being. But the feelings between the pair begin to change when Y/N experiences a traumatic event and endures more hardships during their marriage leaving Gojo, despite his hatred, to become her caretaker and lover. However, the emotional toll threatens to break them both along the way. Can love truly blossom from the depths of pain?

pairings: CEO Gojo Satoru x f!reader, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, smut, fluff

tags/fic warnings: angst, 18+ smut/sexual content, marital abuse/assault, abusive behaviour/actions, physical abuse, marital abuse, r*pe - not by gojo, PTSD, anxiety, illness, ED, body dysmorphia, mentions past sh, injuries, mentions of infertility, viewer discretion is advised.

one • two • one • two • three • four • five • six • seven • eight. nine • ten • eleven • twelve • thirteen •fourteen • fifteen • sixteen • seventeen • eighteen •nineteen • twenty • twenty one • twenty two ..?

• gojo aesthetic • y/n wardrobe • their wedding •

this is a remake of the original - but better LOL :)

- taglist open !!

[gojonanami]

so basically

don’t do this to me, it’s so cute, I can’t 😭😭😭 it’s so accurate — they still loved each other at their absolute worse and that’s truly love 😭😭😭

[suguwife]

Executive Tensions. (one)

tags: exbf!Gojo Satoru x f!reader, CEO x secretary, porn with plot, 18+ explicit sexual content, mdni, masturbating, slow burn, mentions of cheating, forced proximity, mini series

- 9.7k wc

a/n: this is the backstory to reader x gojo - angry heated one shot for this is in part two !!

(part two)

You had just posted a story on your Instagram, a picture of flowers that your new boyfriend gave you. Baby pink peonies, a big bouquet of them in the shape of a heart.

Only a few minutes after posting the photo, your phone vibrated, and your heart skipped a beat seeing your ex boyfriend’s name appear on your screen, Satoru. The message was simple and yet it made your heart beat faster. You shouldn’t be feeling like this, you hate him.

“He doesn't know that you prefer actual luxury gifts?” Was the first message he sent you in months, four months since the breakup. Why is he viewing your story?

You respond after a couple minutes with “I like flowers now.” Its an obvious lie. You knew he’d know. You had always been materialistic, you found gifts and money more efficient over flowers that would die anyway.

“You're lying.” He replied within seconds, obsessed much.

He had to admit, after stalking your socials for a little while, your new boyfriend seemed to make you happy, or at least that's the image you projected.

It was annoying, it made him feel sick to think that someone else could make you smile like that, or even more.

You reply after a couple minutes again, “Well I like flowers now. Stop texting me I already removed you as a follower.”

His jaw clenched and his grip on his phone tightened, seeing your reply, he wasn't expecting you to be so cold with him. But of course you would be, in a way he deserved that. “You didn't remove me, stop lying.”

“I just did.”

“Why? did your new boyfriend tell you to do that?”

He double texts another message, “Is he that insecure? Does he not want you interacting with your ex ‘cause he’s scared?”

You scoff a laugh in disbelief at his accusations, ironic coming from him. He seems to be the insecure one here. “No, I decided to remove you. Stop being so irritating.”

He doesn’t respond to that, he just re-reads over the conversation on his phone a couple times like an obsessive freak before throwing his phone on the bed and running his hand through his hair, “Fuck..”

Laying on his bed, he stared up at the ceiling and clenching his jaw as the image of you with your new boyfriend danced in his head.

The next day, Satoru sat in a black seat behind a long desk, a few of his assistants on either side. In front of him, the candidates for the new position that had just been opened in his company were standing before him, one after the other. The interviews had already been going on for quite some time, he was just beginning to get bored, until you walked in.

Honestly, you had no idea that Satoru would be here, until you saw him sitting on the main seat. The seat for the CEO of the building. You knew he was a CEO, but he had worked in a different building whilst you were dating. Despite the sudden shock running through, you remain calm and composed.

Your parents were bugging you to do something with your life and that you can’t live in their luxury for the rest of your days without working towards anything so, here you are. Applying for a boring office job, just so your parents would see you as a hard working woman. A useless thing, you believe. You’re fine as you are, perfectly financially stable.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw you, you were even more beautiful than the last time. He had only seen you off your socials since the breakup, but in real life your beauty glistened the entire room from boring and dull to bright and refreshing. He blinked a few times to recover from his surprise, before straightening up in his seat and looking at the papers in front of him.

Trying to ignore the hammering in his heart as he focused on the papers, he couldn't deny it now. He hadn't forgotten you, not at all. He never could. No amount of hookups would get his mind off you. In fact, during all those times he’d have sex with other women after the breakup, he’d only see your face despite how bratty and argumentative you became with him.

Little did he know that the only reason you became so hostile towards him was because he had cheated on you with a prostitute. He doesn't know you know. You didn’t bother to explain, wanted him to realise himself. But he clearly didn’t.

He was just about to say something when one of his assistants spoke up. "Excuse me sir, this is the last candidate to be interviewed, y/n l/n.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, he eyed you up and down. He tried to control his emotions and remain stoic, but in reality, it took all his self-control to stay that way.

He gestured for you to sit in the chair in front of him, his expression bored.

You keep your poker face plastered on as you take your seat, questioning yourself. When did he start working here? This building is #1 in Tokyo, he had been working a little lower before. Unless he owned this building too and just never told you?

God, this is so embarrassing, interviewing to be a low class assistant for your ex boyfriend just to please your parents.

You furrow your brows ever so slightly but regain your composure again, you needed this job. You needed to show your parents that you can do anything, you just choose not to. And it’s true, you can do anything, because now everyone beside him is smiling and whispering with amused expressions as they tick all the boxes near your name. Only Satoru had been staring into your eyes, like a staring contest between the two of you.

He cleared his throat before finally speaking up, his tone neutral. “Alright then, you may leave for now.”

After politely saying your goodbyes you make your exit, his pupils stalked you until you left the room and the door closed behind you. Letting out a slow sigh once you were gone, he felt his heart rate calm down to a normal pace once more.

“I think she did pretty well, sir.”

“One of the best from today, sir.”

He nods at his assistants, trying to play it off like he was unfazed by your presence. But deep down, seeing you again after so long in real time was like an electric shock to his heart. A reminder that he never got over you at all. Ugh, what was he thinking? You became a bitch, you broke up, the decision was mutual.

The assistant's voice pierced his thoughts. “So, what do you think sir? Should we hire her?”

He hesitates for a moment, his mind torn between his emotions and his rationality. He wanted to say no, to reject your application, but he couldn't seem to do that either, he knew you were qualified.

After some deliberation, he finally spoke up in a firm tone. “...Hire her for my secretary position. She has the necessary qualifications.”

As he spoke, a few of the people around him looked at him and each other with surprise visible on their face, but they immediately tried to mask it. They all knew that his position as CEO required a secretary, but they had been under the impression that he would never agree to hire someone for that position. Every time a candidate came in for the role, he’d always deny them. Clearly, you always got what you wanted and Satoru was willing to give you that, despite the fact you only interviewed for a low assistant role.

He could sense their surprise and knew that they had expected him to reject the idea of a secretary once again, but he didn't care. This time, he had a very selfish reason. He wanted you to be his secretary, so he could see you every day. Even if it was just for work.

He continued to look at the papers in front of him, pretending not to care about their reactions, his heart still pounding from the idea of you being his secretary.

Would you even accept the job? And if you did, what would happen between you two?

He didn't know and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out either.

“I expect one of you to alert her for her position and the expectations for it too.” He says coldly, standing up from his seat and fixing himself to head back to his main office. “Have her start her shift from tomorrow morning.”

He nodded to his assistants, indicating that he was done for today and didn't want to be disturbed, before leaving the room and walking down the long corridors to his main office. The thought of you working for him now excited him as much as it worried him. He would see you every day, but would he be able to control himself and remain professional...?

He arrived at his main office and closed the door behind him, heading to his desk and sitting down on the big leather chair. He placed his elbows on the desk and let his face rest in his hands, sighing deeply as he stared at the desk in front of him. This wasn't going to be easy at all.

Well, you knew you always got what you wanted, but you didn’t expect to be given the secretary role. You never even applied for that? Were the people around him just overly pleased by you so they convinced him or was he doing it out of the fact you're his ex?

Whatever the reason, you took it. You didn’t want to bother with anymore of those fuckass interviews. But you can’t believe he’s making you start the next morning, what a dick, as always.

Your black heels click as you enter his office dressed in dark tights, a dark grey pencil skirt and a sleeved white button up shirt, hair up in a French twist, just normal business attire. Oh but to him, oh fuck. As he sat on his seat, his dick sprung up to the sight of you, all dressed up like a hard working woman.

He mentally cursed himself, placing his hand casually as possible on his boner trying to hide the evidence even though you weren’t able to see anyway from his desk blocking your view.

He swallowed hard and quickly tried to compose himself, not wanting to let his surprise show.

Clearing his throat, he spoke up in a professional tone, “You're early, good. Have a seat in front of my desk.”

You want to mentally roll your eyes at him, of course you were going to take a seat. Did he just expect you to stand there until he told you what to do?

You keep your expression neutral as you take your seat and stare at him.

He couldn't help but study your features, the way your eyes landed on his, your hands folded on your knees as you crossed them over. Everything about you was exactly like he remembered.

He took a deep breath to recompose himself before speaking “You may be wondering why I hired you as my personal secretary.”

He leaned back, resting his arms on the armrests of his chair as he continued speaking. “I was going to pass on hiring one, but stocks have been rising lately so it’s been getting busy. And after the interview, I felt you were more than qualified for the job.”

His tone was professional, as if he were speaking to any other employee, but his dick was pulsing with its own heartbeat, faster than ever. It was painful, but he managed to remain stoic. He couldn't tear his eyes away from your face despite how hard it was making him. Would it be so bad if he wanked off to your pictures once you left? Maybe he shouldn’t do that. He carries on speaking. “But I'd better warn you, working as my secretary isn't easy. I have high expectations and demands-“

You cut him off, your tone blank and your expression still neutral. “I'm sure.”

God, he was infuriating to look at. You wanted to grit your teeth and roll your eyes or kick him but you remained professional and calm.

He was slightly amused by your response, your short, simple answer somehow satisfying him.

Leaning forward a bit in his chair, his eyes remained on you as he continued. “I have no doubt you can handle it.”

He paused for a moment before adding, “I hope you're up for the challenge.”

Tch, what challenge? The only challenge will have to be serving him for the next couple of months before you choose to quit.

His eyes lingered on your face for a few more moments, his heart still racing and the beat in his dick pulsing despite his calm demeanour. He tried to push the thoughts of your past relationship to the back of his mind, but being so close to you now was making it difficult. He wanted to reach out and touch you, but he knew he wasn't allowed to. He was your boss now, and he had to maintain a professional relationship with you.

“What do I have to do?” You question.

He sat back in his chair and picked up a folder on his desk, opening it and looking through the contents. You can’t deny how handsome he looks in his suit and his professional manner, it made you throb even though you despised him.

“Your primary job is to take and pass on my instructions, organise my schedule, arrange my meetings, prepare and take notes during business meetings, prepare reports, among other things.”

He glances up at you as he continues listing the duties of the position. “You will be in charge of handling my business calls and emails as well. Which means being available to me at all times.”

His eyes roam over your face, pausing for a moment on your lips before quickly looking back at the folder in front of him.

He closed the folder and placed it back on his desk, his eyes still on you. “Do you think you can handle this job? It can be demanding and time-consuming, not everyone is cut out for it...”

You inhale, exhale, and speak. “It's not that hard, just a lot of simple tasks to complete.” Really, it sounds like I’d be doing all his work for his lazy ass.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, seemingly entertained by your confident response. “You seem pretty confident in your abilities...” His arms across his chest, his voice suddenly more firm and serious. “But let me warn you, l have no patience for mistakes or incompetence. I expect everything to be done in a timely, accurate and professional manner. I'm not an easy boss to please, I demand the best of the best.”

“Yeah. I'm aware.” I state, a hint of irritating sarcasm in my tone. During our relationship, he'd always be toxic and impatient. Never understood the true meaning.. or even tried to understand the true meaning as to why you had become such a bitch towards him. Never came to the realisation that you were aware of his cheating.

He cleared his throat and sat up a bit straighter in his chair, trying to push those memories from his mind...

He kept his cool demeanour and spoke in a calm but strict tone.

“Good. As long as we're clear on that.” He paused for a moment, observing you closely as if trying to read your thoughts. He leaned forward a bit in his chair, his hands folded neatly in front of him on his desk.

“You start your first day of work today. I know that I’ve got a few meetings that need preparation and I need you to take on some duties today as well.”

He studied your face closely, taking in your reaction. He was still trying to figure you out, trying to figure out if you were hiding anything behind your neutral expression, but it was too hard. He always found it hard to understand you behind that expression.

“Okay. Do I get a written list or anything on what I need to do for each day?”

“Yeah, I have a list of assignments for you ready. But I'm also expecting you to keep up with daily tasks and schedules.”

He gestures to the laptop on the desk in front of you.

“There's a new file there. It's for all of the assignments and tasks you need to do, it's constantly updated and you'll find everything in it that you need to do for today and the future.”

You slide the laptop in front of you as you speak, breaking eye contact, “Okay.”

“Any questions?”

“Hm.. I’ll ask you when they come.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why are you applying for jobs? You don’t even need to work.”

You sigh, of course he’d ask that. You didn’t want to let him in on too much. “Why do you care?”

“Don’t get that tone with me, I’m just wandering.” He glared at you with a firm and cold expression.

You roll your eyes at him, finally. Your eyes were begging to do that from the moment you entered this room. “My parents wanted me to do something.”

“Ah.. They doing okay?” He questions, a little smile on his face.

You don’t respond, just stare at him with a bored expression because, why the fuck is he asking how your family is?

He nodded with a small smirk playing on his lips, the fuck is he smiling for now? God you just wanted to get up and kick his dick, make sure he’s unable to fuck any other woman.

“Alright then. I have a meeting in about an hour. Get started on those tasks. And do a good job. I'll be watching you.” He cuts off your intrusive thoughts as he speaks.

You grab your laptop and say your goodbyes, you can’t help but be irritated with the way he’s speaking to you. No please, no thank you?

“She's still as cold as ever...” He mumbled to himself, his brain replaying the look on your face, the sound of your voice. He knew you were intentionally hiding your emotions, putting up a professional front, but he couldn't deny that he was enjoying the game of trying to figure you out.

He leaned back in his chair, sighing deeply as he tried to clear his mind. But he couldn't focus on his work, his thoughts still lingering on you.

You make your way to a smaller office designed for the secretary, small yet simple and spacious. You browse through your laptop which had a detailed list of assignments and tasks, some assigned to you that day and some that you would be handling in the days to come. “Jesus. I'm basically doing his work for him. Tch.” You whisper to yourself as you prepare the meetings and documents for today.

Meanwhile, in his office, his dick was still hard. Punching through his pants aching for release, he had to place his sweating forehead on his desk to control his breathing. But it was futile. He contemplated whether it would be harassment to touch himself to you but fuck, he needed to.

He stood up, walked heavily with ragged breathing and locked his office door then made his way back to his seat, immediately unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants and boxers down so he’d have access.

His mind ran back to the times he’d pound into you, the wet, filthy noises that would escape from your entrance and your tongue. His hands glided up and down at the thought. The words you’d say to him as he fucked you raw in his bed.

“Just like that toru.. mh…”

“Yeah? Like this?” And he’d slam into you balls deep, making you scream his name as he panted like a dog in heat “That feel good, princess?”

“So.. so g-goo- oh!” You were so drunk off his dick you were never able to form full words. He loved the way your soaked walls would clench him even though you’d whine, “T-too much.. no more!!” But no amount of your whining would make him stop, your pussy begged for him despite your words.

“Tell me how it feels.” He’d say through panting gasps as his fingers would rub over your clit rapidly whilst his dick hit your G-spot then pulled back out, then back in again, making sure to hit you well. He wanted to know how you felt as his dick would speed into you, wanted to raise his ego.

Then he’d push down on your abdomen, just where he’d bulge through your sweaty skin, “You feel that? You take me so well, baby..”

And the way you’d cry out in pleasure, weakly trying to push his hand away from pushing down but he’d just chuckle, pushing down harder as the sound of squelching wetness filled the room.

He can’t help it, mid-wank he picks up his phone from his desk, scrolls through his hidden images in his gallery and rewatches the clips he’d take of you moaning and whimpering his name as he played with your clit. He never deleted anything of you.

He panted heavily once he reached his climax, his hands filthy. Shit. He headed to the bathroom connected to his office and cleaned himself up. Was it harassment to touch himself to you.. without permission? I mean it’s not like you knew.. Shit, maybe he fucked up. Nobody will know anyway.

Time ticked by as you worked on the tasks for the rest of the week, diligently typing away on the keys of the laptop and sipping on the frappe you had bought. Whilst Satoru attended his meetings and completed his work in his office. Although, every time he’d walk around the building, he’d always steal glances of you in your office working. And god, you always looked as beautiful as ever to him.

His father, the former CEO, strolls into the building, his presence immediately commanding respect from all the employees as he walks by. He was a tall and dignified man, his presence alone enough to make everyone take notice. Every employee, including you bowed to him, paying respects.

Shit, this must have been the building he would talk about to you in the past. He’d always complain to you how his father wanted him to overtake his business, but he never told you the name of the building. Well, to be fair, you never asked. And now here you are, working as a corporate slave for your ex boyfriend of a dick.

“It's nice to see you again, y/n.” He says to you, standing before your desk, probably confused.

“Ah... you too sir.”

“I wasn't expecting to see you working here, it's been a while.” His tone was gentle, but there was an undertone of curiosity and concern in his voice.

You nod and offer an awkward smile, “Yeah... I didn't know Satoru was the CEO of this building.”

“Yes, he took over as CEO two months after you both... ended.” He pauses for a moment before speaking again, his tone slightly wary. “And you're working as his secretary now...?” He questioned, looking around the office.

Oh fuck, embarrassing. It sounds as if you’re desperate to be seen by Satoru. “Yes. I am.”

He nods again, his expression still neutral as he continues to observe you, “I see...”

Awkward as fuck. Not because he’s Satoru’s father, you and his family had a good relationship when you were dating. It’s more awkward that your specifically working for his son now.

“How are things between you and Satoru? You two are on... good terms?”

“...I guess.” You fiddle with your hands slightly, wanting to let out a long, deep sigh.

“You guess...?” He lets out a small sigh and continues, his tone slightly gentler this time. “Are you getting along with Satoru fine? No... issues, or arguments?”

“No, not at all sir. We’re okay now.” True, you aren’t. It’s more boring talk. But maybe it’s because you haven’t lashed out on him yet.

He studies your face as you speak, trying to read your expression. He can tell you're not being completely honest, but your words are spoken in a polite and professional tone. “I see..”

“So are you... enjoying working here? You're not feeling uncomfortable or anything?”

“No not at all, it's good working here. The building is amazing.”

“I'm glad to hear that. The building is quite impressive, isn't it? And I hope Satoru isn't... giving you too much work to do?”

You chuckle in response,”Well, I am working on tasks for next week so..”

“Ah, I see. So he’s already making you work ahead of time..”

As his father leaves your office, he makes his way to Satoru’s office, his eyes narrowing slightly as he sees him lazing around in his chair.

“Satoru...” His voice is a low, almost a disapproving grumble as he enters the room, closing the door behind him.

Satoru, hearing his father's voice, looks up with a slight expression of annoyance on his face. “Ugh... what is it?”

He lazily spins around in his chair, his body language oozing nonchalance and boredom.

His father doesn't look amused as he walks up to his son’s desk, a stern expression on his face. “We need to talk.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his gaze fixed on Satoru as he continues. “I was just in your secretary's office, and you know who I saw?”

He raises an eyebrow at his father's words, a mixture of annoyance in his eyes. “Y/n?” He says in a bored tone, as if he's already expecting some sort of lecture from his father.

“Yes, why?”

“Oh, yeah. I hired her.” He responds casually, as if it’s normal to have your ex girlfriend work for you.

His father lets out a sigh, his expression becoming more agitated. “Anyway, you need to get married soon. You're already 28.”

Satoru groans and rolls his eyes at his father's words. He's heard this lecture from his father numerous times, and it always irritates him. “You're still on about that?”

His father remains stern and insistent, his arms crossed over his chest. “Yes, I am. You're at the age where you should be looking for a suitable partner. You can't just keep playing around forever and hooking up with random whores. It's time for you to settle down.”

Satoru lets out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Ugh, can we not have this conversation right now? I'm busy.”

His father's expression hardens even more at his dismissive attitude. “No, we're having this conversation now. And you're not going to use the ‘I'm busy' excuse this time. You've been putting this off for far too long, Satoru. It's embarrassing to have a son who has sex with prostitutes. You need a wife to put you in your place. You need to have kids so you remain a good man.”

Satoru's eyes narrow at his father's words. He knew it was pointless to argue at this point, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of irritation at being lectured like a child.

“And who do you expect me to marry? Do you have someone in mind?”

“Well, if you're asking for my opinion, yes I do have someone in mind. But knowing how stubborn you are, you're probably not going to like it.”

He raises an eyebrow again at his father's words, curious. He lets out a sigh, resigned to having this conversation. “Fine, spit it out. Who is it?”

His father takes a deep breath, bracing himself for Satoru's reaction. He knows what he's about to say will probably not go over well with him.

“Even though she’s your ex now.. y/n. She's a good girl and she comes from a respectable background and we liked her. You two were together for a while. Who better knows you? She'd be able to keep you in line. You're still hung up on her anyway, just stop fucking around and treat her well, then she'll be happy with you.”

His face immediately darkens at his father's words, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You can't be serious. You actually want me to marry y/n?”

His father lets out a small chuckle at Satoru's protest, not taking his words seriously at all. He's clearly amused by his son's denial. “Oh please, I know you're still into her. And she doesn't hate you, she's just mad at you because you messed up. And her boyfriend? Pfft, I saw him, he's a pathetic waste of space. She deserves someone better, someone like you. Just stop being a coward and admit you still like her.”

He lets out a scoff at his father's words. He can't believe his father is talking about y/n like this, as if he knows better than him. It's pissing him off, even though he’s right.

“You're seriously overstepping your boundaries, old man. I'm not a damn teenager who can't make decisions for themselves. I'm the CEO of this company, and I have a private life. No, I'm not marrying y/n. It's not happening.”

“You're acting like a child, Satoru. And don't give me that CEO bullshit, it won't work on me. You're still my son and I'm still your father, and I'm telling you to marry her. End of story. I'll arrange the marriage even if I have to force it, I'll get y/n to agree.”

Satoru's jaw clenches, his patience reaching its limit. He can feel anger coursing through him, and he has to force himself to stay calm. “You'll what? Arrange a marriage?! Dad, you're out of your damn mind. You know damn well y/n and I didn't end on good terms. We were constantly at each other's throats, it was a disaster. And forcing her to marry me? That's insane.”

His father scoffs, “Who else would you marry?”

“Anyone but y/n. Literally anyone. I’ll marry a stranger, I don't care. Just don’t push y/n onto me.” Satoru's voice is firm and unrelenting, but there's a hint of desperation in his eyes as he stares at his father.

His father lets out a frustrated sigh, seeing that his son is in no mood to listen to reason. He takes a deep breath and tries a different approach. “Alright then. I'll have a few respectable women, or girls your mother and I know come over to the family estate. They'll talk to you and you talk to them. Then come to me and tell me which one you prefer. Deal?”

Satoru’s expression softens slightly, his anger slowly subsiding. He doesn't like the idea of being set up with women he's never met, but it's better than being forced to marry his ex. “... Fine. But I'm not promising anything.”

His father smiles slightly, glad that he's finally getting through to Satoru. If he doesn’t prefer any of them, then he’ll definitely arrange you both. But he won’t mention that yet.

“Good. I'll arrange it then. And I better see you talking properly to these girls, got it? No snide comments or sarcasm. Just behave well. Don't embarrass me son.”

He rolls his eyes but nods reluctantly. “Yeah, yeah I'll be on my best behaviour. Don't worry.” He mutters, still not thrilled about the entire situation of marriage.

“Today, tomorrow, next week? When?”

“Next week. This coming Saturday. I'll have them head to your study room in the estate, not your apartment, so make sure you come over in the morning. Be ready.”

Satoru nods again, resigned to his fate. He knows his father is not backing down. “Alright, I'll be there.. Whatever.”

The next day, Satoru is bored in his office, idly scrolling through his social media feeds when he receives an email from you. He opens it up and reads through his schedule for the day, letting out a small sigh.

It's then that he suddenly remembers the conversation between him and his father, and the arrangement to bring the women over to their estate next week. He groans inwardly, not looking forward to it at all.

He could just do as his father's says and marry you instead. but you're his ex and you hate him because he's apparently toxic. and he doesn't even like you anymore since you became so bratty. At least, that what he tells himself.

As his thoughts swirl through his head, an idea starts to form. He glances at the door to his office, considering it for a moment. then he calls out to you through the phone speaker. “Hey, come in here for a moment.”

You hear his voice over the alert system in your office room and head over, once inside you speak, “Is something the matter?”

He motions for you to close the door behind you and sit down. “No, everything's fine. Just sit down.”

He waits for you to sit down on the chair opposite him, his eyes studying your face as you do so. He's not sure how you're going to react to what he's about to say.

“I need to ask you something. And I want you to be completely honest with me.”

Okay, you can do that.

He leans forward slightly, his hands resting on the desk in front of him as he looks you in the eye. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

You respond immediately, “No.” Did he expect you to be open considering our history? What an idiot.

He chuckles as he looks down, “Damn, you're still as bratty as ever.”

He leans back in his chair and looks at you again. “You still hate me, huh?”

You stare back at him, a bored expression on your face, “Obviously.” You hated his guts and he knows that.

“Yeah, I figured. We did end on bad terms after all, didn't we?” He speaks with a hint of arrogant irritation in his voice.

You sigh before you speak, “What do you want?”

He leans forward again, resting his elbows on the desk and entwining his fingers in front of him. His gaze is steady and intense as he looks at you. “I need you to listen closely to what I'm about to say and try to keep an open mind. Can you do that?”

“What?”

Inhaling deeply, he prepares himself for your reaction. He knows this is going to be a difficult conversation. But he should at least ask before closing off the option.

“I'm going to ask you something... a little... hm. I don't know what's the word but, don't get all mad at me. It's just an offer from my father. it's not that I want to but I'm just letting you know.”

You groan in irritation at him, “Okay, so what is it?” He’s taking too long and you’re becoming impatient.

He almost chuckles at the frustration on your face. But he knows better than to make any dumb comments if he wants to even have a chance to explain himself.

“Alright, alright. I'll get to the point.” He clears his throat, preparing himself for your reaction. “My father wants me to get married. He gave me the first option to marry you but I denied it because, well I thought you'd say no anyway. So instead he arranged some women for me to meet next week at our estate.”

“Okay? What do you want me to do about that?”

He sighs, “You're really making it difficult for me to talk to you." He rubs his temple with his fingers, getting annoyed with your stubbornness. “Alright, I'm just gonna say it then.”

He takes a deep breath and looks at you straight in the eye. “I'm gonna ask you again. Do you still hate me, yes or no?”

“Yes. I hate you.”

“You really are damn stubborn, you know that?” He sits back in his chair, studying your face for any signs of weakness or doubt. But your expression remains icy and impenetrable, just like it always was before you broke up with him..

He leans forward again, his gaze never leaving your face. “Fine, you hate me. But that's not the question I'm asking.”

But that was the question he just asked?

“My father was going to arrange our marriage forcibly, but I told him not to because I thought you'd disagree. If you could, would you agree to the marriage?”

You contemplate for a moment, would you? You hate him, you can’t trust him anymore. Not when he cheated with some random prostitute. “It depends.”

He quirked an eyebrow at your answer, intrigued and slightly amused that you're actually considering the possibility. “Depends on what?”

“Money.” You say blankly. Hypothetically, at least. You weren’t being serious but if it were to happen you’d marry him for money. Because only money could make you get back with a cheating ex like Satoru.

He scoff at your response. It's so typical of you to think of the financial aspect first. But he doesn't seem too surprised. “Oh, you're such a greedy little gold digger. I'd be paying you to be married to me, huh?”

“What's the problem with that? I have money and come from wealth too, it’s only obvious I’d still want more. If I married you I’d want to be paid weekly.”

You watch him shake his head and chuckle, both amused and annoyed at your audacity. He never expected you to actually admit to being a gold digger so shamelessly. “Damn. You really have no shame, do you?”

He looks at you as he considers your proposition for a moment, “Weekly payments, huh? How much are you thinking?”

“Hm. To get married to you and leave my boyfriend... £100k to get married to you, then £2k weekly sent to my bank. I'm only saying that because it's not gonna happen.” You say the last sentence firmly, standing your ground as you glare at him from your seat.

He grins at the ridiculously bold request, “£100k to marry me? And £2k weekly? You're really trying to milk me for everything I've got, huh? You're fuckin’ expensive.”

“Those are reasonable offers if your rich. You have the money to give that.”

He can't deny that you're right. Though he finds your demands amusing and frustrating at the same time. "You really have no shame to ask for that much money, don't you?” He mutters under his breath.

“And why do you want £2k weekly? wouldn't I be providing you with everything as your husband?”

Ugh, he’s asking as if I’d ever accept him as my husband.

“What do you plan to do with the £2k weekly payments?”

“For myself, obviously. You’re questioning me as if it'd actually happen. I'm not marrying you.” You chuckle as you speak. “Was just answering your question from before.”

“I know you're not gonna marry me, it's just a damn hypothetical question.” he mutters, his voice edged with frustration. “But I'm asking why you'd want that much money for yourself?”

“Why wouldn't I? Plus If I had left over money, l'd pass it down to my children for inheritance.”

“Of course you're thinking about inheritance for your children,” he says in a sarcastic tone. “You know, most people get married for love, not just for money.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn't be marrying you for love, it'd be forced if ur father went through with it for real. Anyway, good luck to the women you're meeting next week. I have work to do and this conversation is annoying. I'll be taking my leave.”

He eyes you as you stand up and head toward the door, slightly annoyed and amused at the same time by your bluntness. “Right, right," he mutters, leaning back in his chair again. “Run off to do your work. Maybe you'll find another guy to milk for money while you’re at it.”

You roll your eyes and scoff as you exit the room, shutting the door behind you.

He lets out a long, heavy sigh and runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head at the crazy idea that he even considered discussing the possibility of marriage with you. “Damn it...” he mutters to himself, “What the hell am I thinking... Tch. annoying bitch.”

Saturday finally rolls around, and Satoru finds himself sitting in his family's grand estate, waiting for the women his father had invited. He's sitting in his study room, tapping his fingers on the armrest of the couch with growing irritation. He still dreads the idea of having to meet all these women, especially after the conversation he had with you a few days before.

Hours passed by, but to no surprise, all the women were either bratty, annoying, clingy, boring or ugly. He heads to his fathers study room, his frustration growing with each step.

He had hoped at least one of the women would pique his interest, but they were all lacking in one way or another. Finally, he reaches his father's study room and knocks on the door. He waits a moment before hearing his father call out from inside, “Come in.” A small smirk playing on his father face.

He steps into the room seeing his father sat smoking a cigarette, his expression a mix of irritation and disappointment. As if he knew that you wouldn’t like any the women. He closes the door behind him and stands in front of his father's desk, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Judging by your face, I'm guessing the meetings didn't go well?”

Satoru lets out a heavy sigh “You could say that. None of the women you picked out were my type. Honestly, they were all damn awful to be honest.”

His father lets out a small chuckle at Satoru's blunt assessment. He leans back in his chair and looks at his son “I see. Well, I guess that's expected, given your picky taste in women. So marry y/n. I'll arrange it.”

His eyes widened at his father's words. He hadn't expected him to bring up your name again so casually.

“What? Wait, hang on I told you we shouldn’t-“

Cutting him off, his father waves his hand dismissively. “I know what you said, but you didn't find anyone suitable so there’s no other option.. You're not that old, but you should start thinking about your future. I'm tired of you always spending your time with prostitutes. Y/n’s a good girl, and she's from a good family that I know well. It's the perfect match.”

“That's bullshit, I don't care if she’s a 'good girl' we don’t like each other anymore, and you know that.”

“You can't just rely on picking women based on your taste. You have to consider the bigger picture, Satoru. Y/n is from a wealthy family, and a good partner for the future. You can't just dismiss her because you don’t like her. You have to think about how this will benefit you and your future. And don't lie to me, you loved her until you both started arguing constantly because of your behaviour. Fix yourself up. I'll speak to her and arrange the marriage, I'm good at persuading.”

Satoru clenches his fists, trying to keep his cool “Damn it...I can't just agree to marry her because it's convenient. What about my own feelings and preferences? I don't care if she's from a wealthy family or a 'good partner for the future.' I'm not some damn chess piece in your grand plan. Why the hell can't you just leave me alone about this? I don't want to be stuck down to one women I like my fucking prostitutes and why does that even bother you?! The public don't even know.”

His father slams his hand on the desk, his patience wearing thin at Satoru’s vulgar and immature words.

“Enough nonsense, Satoru! I'm tired of your selfish attitude. You're not a child anymore, you're 28 years old, it's time you start acting like an adult. Marriage is not just about your feelings, it's about responsibility, legacy and power. Y/n’s family status and background will bring stability benefits that will outweigh your damn personal preferences. I don't care how many damn prostitutes you sleep with, you're marrying y/n.”

“I've already spoken to her, I gave her a hypothetical question, and you want to know what she said?”

His father looks slightly surprised at his words, but he quickly regains his composure “And what did she say?”

“She said, if she did marry me it would be for money.”

His voice is laced with frustration and anger as he crosses his arms, his glare fixed on his father.

“She was only interested in the damn money. Nothing else. Told me if you forced her to marry me, she'd only go ahead with it if she was pre-paid £100k and then paid a further £2k by me weekly. then she said she's only saying that because it'd never happen and she won't marry me.”

His father's expression remains neutral, “What's so bad about that? We have wealth and so does she. it's only normal for her to want more, especially if your her ex. I don’t blame her.”

His anger reaches a boiling point at his father's nonchalant response. He leans forward, his eyes blazing with frustration, “You're goddamn right she's my ex. And that should be enough reason for you not to try to force me to marry her against my will.”

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down, but his frustration is evident in his every movement.

His father leans back in his chair, his expression still calm, “Listen, I understand that you have your reasons for not wanting to marry her. But you have to understand that I'm only thinking about what's best for you. She comes from a wealthy family, and she shares similar values to ours. She'd be a valuable addition to our family, and I'm sure you'd be able to find happiness with her if you stopped your toxic behaviour.”

Satoru's jaw clenches as he listens to his father's words. He can't believe that his father is still pushing this idea, despite his objections. “You just don't get it, do you? It's not just about your stupid values and wealth. I have my own life, my own preferences, my own damn desires.”

He shakes his head, feeling a mixture of anger and frustration. “You can't force me to marry someone, my ex, just because it's convenient for you or our family reputation.”

“Satoru, stop being so goddamn egotistical. This isn't just about pleasing me or our ideals. It's about doing what's right for your future. And let's be honest, your current lifestyle isn't exactly sustainable in the long run. You need a partner who understands and respects you, whom you can share your life with. And someone who can keep you in check. Leave my room. I'll arrange you and y/n. That's the end of it.”

“Ugh, fine! but don't expect me to treat her like a goddess wife.” He was tired of these lectures, tired of his futile defensive arguments.

“Trust me, after spending a few days with her as your wife, you'll come to appreciate her, she was always a good daughter figure when she’d visit whilst you dated.”

He leans back in his chair, folding his hands “And I expect you to be on your best behaviour. No more womanising or hookups, got it?”

He rolls his eyes, feeling frustrated but also resigned to the situation “Yeah, yeah, I got it. No more women, no more hookups. You want me to be a damn saint, I'll be a saint.”

A day later, his father calls me, telling me to visit their estate and that he has something important to discuss with me. I head over and enter the family estate, a butler leading me to his fathers study room. Am I going to get fired already? No.. if I were to be getting fired I’d be called to Satoru’s office.

Satoru sits in his father's room, staring out the window as his father sits beside him. His thoughts still swirl with anger and frustration but he knows he has no choice to argue with his father.

Suddenly, his father's butler knocks on the door and enters the room. “Excuse me. Miss l/n is here saying that you called for her?” He steps aside, revealing you standing in the doorway.

“Hello..”

His father stands up and smiles at you warmly

“Ah, y/n, please come in. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

I enter the room, closing the door behind me and glance at satoru confused, his expression neutral, only with slightly furrowed brows. Then I returned my gaze back onto his father.

His father gestures for you to take a seat across from him and Satoru. “Please, have a seat. There's something important we need to discuss with you.”

After taking your seat, His father leans forward, his tone serious “Y/n, I've called you here because Satoru and I have had a chat recently. And we both agreed that it would be beneficial for all of us if you and Satoru were to get married.”

Oh god, he can’t be serious. “Mr. Go-“

His father continues, ignoring your reaction

“I understand that this might come as a surprise, but hear me out. Satoru needs a partner who can help him grow and mature. And I believe that you are the perfect candidate for that. You come from a good family and have a strong sense of responsibility. You can provide the stability and guidance that Satoru desperately needs.”

“I... thank you for the offer but I-“

His father holds up a hand, stopping you from protesting further “You'll be given the money you want. £100k beforehand and £2k weekly by this idiot here, right?”

You part your lips slightly and your breath catches in your dry throat. You weren’t being serious with that amount, simply stating it because you didn't expect it to happen. You wave your hands in protest as you smile awkwardly “No, No I-“

His father raises an eyebrow, clearly sceptical of your protest, “You were the one who suggested the money. Don't try to back out of it now. I’m offering a significant amount of financial security. Not to mention, being married to Satoru would mean a life of luxury and comfort.”

Satoru, who had been silent until now, finally speaks up. He leans back in his chair, a mix of irritation and resignation in his voice. “Just take the damn deal, y/n.”

“Tch, don't tell me what to do.”

“Why are you being so difficult? we're offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity here. You'd be a fool to reject it.”

You roll your eyes, looking away and sighing. He's right, but it would be hell for you. Get back with the ex who cheated on you with a prostitute..? It’s crazy.

His father clasps his hands together, sensing that you're starting to give in, “If that's not enough, £200k beforehand, £3k weekly.”

“You're serious...? About this?”

“Absolutely. I've already spoken to your parents and they agreed, but do you?”

Satoru watches you intently, waiting for your answer. He's starting to feel a sense of annoyance at your hesitancy, but he tries to hide it.

His father leans forward, “Y/n, you won't have to work another day.”

"You'll have access to the best of everything, a life of luxury, and you'll be a part of a high-profile family. Think about it, you'll never have to worry about money or anything again."

“I mean I already don't... have to worry…” You’re starting to give in. Oh god this can’t be good.

“Yes, but the offer is still there. You'd have more. You know our family is #1 wealthiest in Japan, your family is #50 wealthy. Think about it.”

Satoru can't contain himself anymore, he leans forward, his irritation evident in his voice “Damn it, you're being stubborn for no reason. Just take the deal already.”

You scowl at his words and tone, giving a dirt as you furrow your brows.

Sator glares right back, his irritation at your defiant attitude growing.

“Just take the fucking deal you love money anyway!”

“Fine!” I yell back with a frustrated groan.

His father lets out a satisfied exhale, a small smile on his face.

“Excellent. I'm glad you came to your senses.”

Satoru leans back, a mix of frustration and resignation on his face. “Finally, you gave in.”

His father’s tone became more serious as he speaks, “Now that that's settled, there are a few conditions that we need to discuss.”

He pauses, looking at Satoru, “First, Satoru. You will not contact any of your former lovers or hookups. The public and our family would look down on that. You must maintain a clean image as a couple.”

You scoff a laugh. “Tch. Of course you had prostitutes right after I left you.” He really was a damn sex freak. You can’t believe he didn’t catch on to the fact you knew he cheated on you. What a dickhead.

He rolls his eyes, feeling a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment at being called out on his behavior.

“Yeah, I did. So what? I had em before you and had em after.”

The audacity for him to blatantly admit such a disgusting thing makes you stare at him in both disbelief and disgust. You hid it well, but it did hurt you. It was like as if he poured acid onto your heart.

His father shakes his head, his disapproval evident

“Satoru that's exactly the type of behaviour that needs to change, immediately. You are a part of a powerful family, and your actions reflect on us all. No more of that immature behaviour.”

He rolls his eyes as he leans back on his seat, looking away, “Yeah, I know.”

“Second, y/n, you will be expected to support Sator in every way possible. This means attending family events and public appearances with him, offering him emotional support, and generally acting as a supportive partner.”

“Of course that's basic stuff, I can do that.” You respond softly, and maturely.

“Good, I'm glad you understand.” He clears his throat,“Onto the third condition. This is the most important one.

His voice takes a firm, serious tone “It involves the matter of heirs. You'll be expected to have children within the next 2 years of the marriage. Ideally, a son and a daughter.”

You should have expected that as a condition too.

“This is non-negotiable. We want to ensure the continuing of our family line, and we expect you two to fulfil your duty.”

I smirk slightly as I look down at my lap, “Do I get paid for pregnancy too?” I ask sarcastically.

"Actually, yes. You'll receive an extra £80k for each pregnancy, and £150k for giving birth.”

Your breath hitches once more, he can’t be serious.. “What?” That amount is far too ridiculously huge, even for you.

His father smiles slightly, seeing your surprise. "That's correct. We understand that pregnancy can be a difficult and exhausting experience, both physically and mentally. That's why we're willing to offer additional compensation as a token of our appreciation for your efforts in continuing our bloodline."

“Wait I was just joking-“

His father chuckles slightly, dismissing your protest.“Oh, I know you were joking, but we take this seriously. The compensation is non-negotiable. We want to ensure that you and Satoru have all the support and resources you need to start a family.”

“But that’s not necessary I promis-“

“It is necessary. He’s our only child, it’s only right that we gift his wife and mother of his children. And you’ll be keeping him in check from his…. Behaviours.”

To think you’re actually agreeing to this is mental. If you were to speak to yourself a week ago you’d be laughing hysterically.

“Right.. right. Next two years..”

“Yes, within the next 2 years. We want to ensure that the family line is continued in a timely manner.”

Satoru remains mostly silent in his seat, a hint of irritation in his expression at the conversation's direction.

His father continues, a stern tone in his voice, “It's not solely your responsibility dear, of course. Satoru will also be expected to play an active role in the child-rearing process, but you will be the main caregiver and nurturer.”

I mean, it’s not so bad. But it’s Gojo Satoru who will be your husband and father of your children. What if he just cheated again? How does his father expect you to keep him in line?

He looks back and forth between you and Satoru

"You both will work together to raise your children, providing them with the love, care, and stability that a family should have. It won't be easy, but we believe that you're both capable of it."

Satoru bristles visibly at his father's words. The thought of having children so soon with his bitch of an ex, is far from appealing to him. Yes, he still has a few feelings for you, but not enough to want to be forced with you. Not like this. But he bites back any protest, knowing it's fruitless to argue with his father.

"Also, if you hate each other behind closed doors, expect you both to appear as a loving couple for the public.”

“Yes.. we will.”

"And Satoru, you better stay behaved. We don't want any more scandals that might embarrass the family's name.

You're lucky they haven't seen you with those whores you've met."

He grits his teeth at his father's comment, feeling a mixture of anger and embarrassment at his indiscretions being brought up time and time again. "I already told you, I'll stop those hookups. There's no need to constantly bring it up."

"I'll believe it when I see it. Just remember, your actions reflect on this family.”

His gaze shifts back to you.

"And y/n, I know you’ll keep Satoru in line. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

“I will.”

"Good. I have faith in you to keep Satoru in check."

His expression suddenly turns serious again.

“One more thing, both of you. Absolutely no infidelity after marriage. I expect absolute loyalty from both of you.”

“Say that to him not me” I mutter, rolling my eyes towards Satoru’s direction.

Satoru clicks his tongue at your words.

His father sighs, directing his gaze at Satoru. “Satoru, I expect complete loyalty from now on. No more flings or hookups with anyone else. Your marriage is solely with y/n now.”

Satoru scowls at his father's words but doesn't argue. He knows that resisting is pointless. He turns his gaze to you, his expression a mixture of irritation and resignation. “I understand.”

[suguwife]

Stolen Love.

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮, the college flirt, finds himself entangled in an unexpected romance with Y/N after a casual hookup blossoms into genuine love. However, a tragic fate looms over them that Gojo is unable to escape from. Determined to savour the most of their time, they fall into a passionate journey filled with romance and complications, despite knowing that their love has an expiration date.

pairings: Gojo Satoru x f!reader, finance x law student, college au, slight bratty!reader, star-crossed lovers, switch sub/dom

tags/warnings: 18+ explicit sexual content, mdni, drinking, drugs/smoking, Gojo is always horny, nerdy Gojo, HEAVY smut, angst, fluff, he falls first and harder, situationship (at first), college/university, abusive parents, vivid description of injuries, physical fights, sexual assault, profanity, adultery, bittersweet ending

one • two • three • four • five • six • seven • eight • nine • ten • eleven • twelve • thirteen • fourteen • fifteen • sixteen • seventeen • eighteen • nineteen • twenty • twenty one • twenty two • twenty three • twenty four • twenty five • twenty six • ..?

- taglist open !!

[suguwife]

Gojo’s Blindness and His Child.

Two years have passed since you and Satoru gave birth to your daughter. Satoru sat in the dim light of the living room, the weight of his blindness pressing heavily onto his shoulders. The sun was beginning to set, leaving the room draped in warm, citrus colours, but to him, it made no difference. His world had been dark for two whole years now since he lost his eyesight from winning the battle with Sukuna, only filled with echoes and images he had to force his own mind to form so he could have some senses of memory.

He ran his fingers over the carpet, the fuzzy sensation grounding him, while the sound of his daughter’s playful giggles sung to him, a bittersweet melody that both warmed and broke his heart. He would only be able to hear her voice and feel her, nothing more, it would remain like that for the rest of his life.

You had left Satoru in the living room with your child whilst you took your business in the bathroom, trusting that your baby would be safe under Satoru’s watchful ear.

He had learned to navigate the world through sound and touch, his other senses compensating for the loss of his powerful sight. He could hear every breath, every rustle of clothing, every small, delighted noise his daughter made. He cherished these moments, trying to engrave them into his memory, to create a collection of love that he could hold onto in the darkness of his eyes.

His daughter’s laughter was infectious, and he couldn’t help but smile, though it was tinged with a sadness that never fully left him.

Sometimes, he’d cry into your arms late at night. He would never speak, never really say what made him upset because he still wanted to seem strong to you. But you knew, you always knew, even if he couldn’t speak it through words.

“It's okay ‘Toru.. I've got you. I’ve always got you.” Is what you’d say to him as your hands stroked his hair, your lips pressing against his forehead whilst he’d cry against your chest..

He didn’t want to say, but it would break him more. He should be the one who looks after you, not the other way round. He’s supposed to be the strongest, yet he’s always in your care. It should be the other way round. He should be looking after you.

When he’d lift his head away from your chest that he had stained with tears, he looks into your eyes, his once bright blue eyes now nothing but grey and filled with a pool of sadness. It broke you, really. Not that you would ever tell him.

You know he’s trying to look into your eyes, but he’s not. It’s somewhere else, lost in darkness. His gaze was distant now, but you knew he loved you, and you loved him. You always would. He’s your Satoru, he’s your husband. He’s your strongest.

He reached out, his hands searching for the familiar warmth of his child, his heart swelling with love as he felt the small, heated hands grasp his fingers. He leaned in, pressing his ear close to his daughter’s mouth, listening to the soft coos and babbles that filled the silence. Each sound was a lifeline, a connection to the world he could no longer see.

His daughter escapes his grasp, running around the room and saying random words he tried to code and understand. “Sweetheart.. where are you going?” He chuckles as he remains sat on the fluffy carpet, slowly rubbing his palm on the material. “Papa!” He turns his head as he laughs more, “Don’t run too much or Papa can’t find you-“

Suddenly, a loud thud shattered the moment of joy, followed by a piercing cry. Satoru’s heart lurched, his smile falling, panic seizing him. He scrambled to his feet, his hands flailing as he tried to locate his daughter. The cries grew louder, more desperate, each one a dagger to his heart.

“Where are you? Sweetheart where..” He called out, his voice trembling with fear and frustration.

But the darkness was unyielding, the cries echoing around him, taunting him with his helplessness. He stumbled over furniture, his hands grasping at empty air, his breath shallow.

He had once been the strongest sorcerer, invincible and fearless. Now, he was reduced to a blind, desperate father, unable to find his own child. How useless is he? is all he can think. Useless.

You stood there, watching him. Not to torture him, but to see if he could still continue his fatherly duties despite being stricken by complete blindness. Silent tears brimmed your eyes as your hands trembled, wanting to help him and lead him to his daughter who hurt her knee, but you couldn’t. You needed to see if he could still do it. You had faith in him. You always would have faith in your husband. He’s still the strongest to you, even if he doesn’t see that himself.

Tears welled up in his eyes, spilling over as he frantically searched for the source of the stabbing cries. His hands were shaking, his mind racing with terror. He was trapped in a nightmare, the darkness suffocating him, mocking him with every step he took.

Finally, his fingers brushed against something soft and warm. His baby. Satoru gathered her up into his arms, holding her small, fragile body close, his heart breaking with each sob that wracked the tiny body. He pressed his lips to her forehead, his tears mingling with the baby, his voice choked with anguish.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry, baby.. Where did you hurt yourself?”

And you let out a breath of relief that you didn’t know you had locked inside your throat, a small, grateful smile of love on your face as you cried silently in the living room, watching the love of a father and his daughter.

The cries of your daughter began to subside, her small hands clutching at his shirt, seeking comfort and safety. Satoru held her tighter, rocking her gently, his tears falling freely.

He felt your presence as your hand pressed against his shoulder, the soft rustle of your clothing, the gentle touch of your hand on his shoulder.

“Satoru..” you whisper softly, voice thick with emotion.

His head turns, facing towards you, his sightless eyes filled with tears. The distance in his gaze was a constant reminder of what he had lost, the vibrant world that was now out of reach. You knelt down beside him, wrapping your arms around them both.

“You did good Satoru.. You did so good..”

“I didn’t.. I can’t see my own child..”

“But you're carrying her right now and she’s smiling, she’s smiling so beautifully. She’s looking up at you right now, happy.”

All three of you stayed like that for a long time as your daughter gradually fell asleep in her fathers arms, a family bound by love and loss, each tearing a testament to the strength of their bond. Satoru held his child and you close, his heart aching with the weight of his helplessness, but also with unwavering love.

In the darkness, he found you. And with you, he found his daughter. Both forcing him to be stronger as a father and husband. He may not have his eyesight, may not have his powerful six eyes anymore. But he has family, something you and him were able to create into a strong and unbreakable bond, no matter how hard situations may be.

this was like a part two (ish) to @velvetcrimsonkisses blind gojo post !!

[suguwife]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮. (five)

tags: Gojo Satoru x f!reader, kpop idol x influencer, fake dating, mentions of drugs, mentions of ed, suggestive, fluff, profanity, smau series

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - Gojo Satoru, a top idol, finds himself at the centre of a public scandal after being photographed in a club appearing intoxicated. Rumors of substance abuse quickly circulate, causing fans and the public to question his reliability and professionalism. Due to severe backlash, his PR team proposes a fake relationship with Y/N, a social media influencer renowned for her healthy lifestyle, to salvage his tarnished image, reduce suspicions and trick the public. However, trouble intensifies when he’s unable to let go of his addiction. - 𝐒𝐈𝐗

(previous)

🏷️taglist - @yung-notorious @catobsessedlady @xionri @poopooindamouf @hyperfixationwhore @spookysoowpprince @bbysnw @k-kkiana @chuyasthighs0 @minzxec @svgvrvs @abiiebibie @gomorlo @pinkkminn @you-always-made-me-blush @lillizard21-blog

[suguwife]

𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧

tags: CEO gojo x f!reader, mean gojo, enemies to lovers trope, 18+ mdni, profanity, teasing, clit play, dub con (?)

- 4.8k wc

(series masterlist) -> chapter two

Silent.

The master bedroom of Gojo Satoru's sky-rise was deathly silent. Neither of you spoke to each other after you came home from the wedding. It was beautiful, yet the moments spent with him weren't. He was nothing but cold.

Neither of you spoke on the way back home, he hasn’t even spared you a single glance yet either. A mutual disdain for the situation you were in, an arranged marriage, one that neither of you truly wanted but was forced upon by his father for the sake of an heir to their family company.

Satoru stood in his master bedroom, loosening his tie from when he slid the ring onto my finger, binding us two together.

A complete joke. He hated this. He hated you. He didn't want to be married and now he was. His ring was now discarded on the bedside drawer.

In a few hours, you were both expected to attend a family dinner back at the Gojo Estate. Right now there was only silence.

Gojo POV

I wash my face in the bathroom, wiping it away with a plush, Egyptian cotton bath towel. Staring into the mirror, as I analyse the exhaustion in my expression. 27 years of being controlled under my father's rules were tiring. My whole childhood was just my father rambling on to me about the company and business and how I should behave. My family, apart from my biological mother, never loved me, so I’ve never really believed in love either. And hell, I don't think I'd ever fall in love with her either.

Not when I was surrounded by an angry and distant household my whole childhood, how could I ever believe in the joke of love? Marriage is useless to me. I didn't want to get married, especially not to some woman I barely knew.

Turning away from the mirror, I walk out the bathroom in just a pair of black sweatpants. The door separating the bathroom from the bedroom slowly opened.

When my eyes locked onto her sitting like a lost puppy on my bed I swallowed. My eyes were travelling over her figure, and it stayed there. How she was wrapped up in that cream, satin dress. How it highlighted every curve of her.

I push his hands into my pockets and lean against the bathroom door frame. I don’t say anything yet, waiting for her to speak first instead. My eyes continued to wander over her figure sitting on my bed. I take a deep breath and cross my arms over my chest, still leaning against the door frame, still staring at her.

I silently analyse her.

I hated her. I hated that she was the one that had father arrange this marriage. Hated that her family and mine were already friends, making it easier for this arrangement. I hated her so much I could strangle her.

Cruel, yes, do I care? No.

However, I couldn't deny her beauty.

I move away from the bathroom door frame, taking long strides towards her until I stood in front of her.

A soft sigh left my lips as my eyes continued to look over her. I hated her so much. She was only attractive, that’s all.

I slowly raise my right hand, and placed it under her chin, comfortably grabbing a hold of her entire jawline. Slowly, I raised her face, forcing her to look up at me.

Reader POV

You’re confused. Why is he touching you like this? Is he doing this for his own pleasure or is he trying to show affection? No idea. “What is it?”

His thumb finds your bottom lip, playing with the flesh as his eyes fixated on them whilst he speaks in a quiet and steady tone, “How do you feel about all this? The marriage?”

It was as if a predator was staring down you, the prey, trying to decipher what part of the body he should feast on first.

The more he rubs his thumb against your lip, the more your core tightens and you hate how sensitive you are to touch.

It's embarrassing, really. He didn't pay you any attention during the wedding or the way back and now he’s showing you affection?

You think to yourself. You wanted this marriage. You wanted him to love you, but he never wanted this.

After you told his father that you found an interest towards Satoru, he immediately arranged the marriage. You were unable to take back your words as he didn't listen. He just assumed you were too shy so he ignored your pleas, “It's fine really sir! I don't want to get married to him, I just found him attractive and interesting! That's all!”

You wish you never told his father how you felt about his son. His son is nothing but cold and you know he hates you. It's evident.

Now you’re stuck in a loveless marriage.

And yet you find yourself leaning into the touch of his fingers.

His fingers grab your chin with more pressure, “How do you feel about this marriage? Be honest with me.”

“Um...”

“Be honest with me, doll.” He repeats. That nickname was anything but endearing. It sounded cold, it was mocking you. Mocking you as his doll to control and play with.

Closing the gap further between you both, he leaned forward. His face hovered a mere few cm away from yours. Eyes sharp, breath scorching hot against your face. In fact, he seemed to almost enjoy seeing you all nervous and vulnerable. How cruel. Never mind, that little bit of arousal within you was gone like the wind.

“Are you okay with this marriage?” you say.

He was almost taken back by the question, loosening his grip on your chin. He stared at you silently for a few seconds before responding, “Why do you care?”

It’s not that you care, “I just want to know since you're asking me.”

He rolled his eyes at your response. “What do you think, hm?” he spits, his tone laced with sarcasm. He took a deep breath before continuing. “I feel like this is a mistake.”

It's only a mistake if you make it a mistake.

He continued to lean above you, his body hovering over yours. He was practically pinning you in place with his height and body size.

“This whole marriage was a mistake.” His voice still steady and sharp.

The tension in the air was thick, so thick it was suffocating. It felt as if trying to cut it with a damn knife wouldn't even work. That's how thick it felt.

He spoke again, his voice still cold and harsh. “We are only married because of the fucking elders of my family wanting an heir for the company soon. I don't love you, and I never will. Never.”

You knew he didn't. But you didn't expect him to stab you with those words with such force. You wished he'd just leave you alone.

But he wouldn't.

He's your husband now. You’re married to him. What a blessing.

“Don't get any ideas that this marriage is some goddamn fairytale. It's not. This isn't some happy end to your pathetic life. I can't even stand you. From the moment we met, I found you nothing but annoying.”

You get it, You understand. Why does he keep rambling?

If he can’t stand you why is touching you like this?

He paused and for a brief moment, an amused chuckle escaped from his lips.

He really seemed like a spawn of satan. You didn't expect this.

Tauntingly, and slowly, he began to push his thumb into your mouth, forcing your lips to remain parted, leaving you both uncomfortable and confused

“You're absolutely pathetic. You've been fawning over me for how many years now? And now what, you're my wife?

... I almost pity you.”

His thumb began to gently rub against your tongue inside your mouth. A cold chuckle escaped him as he watched your expression, your saliva coating his thumb. “You’re so goddamn easy to toy with. You want me so desperately, but I don't want you. Isn't that a funny joke?” He continued his little game, gently rubbing the pad of his large, rough thumb against your tongue.

All you could do was furrow your brows and muffle. You couldn't tell if you felt hurt or if you were enjoying this.

God, why are you even debating between two?

You should feel hurt, shouldn't you? So why is your body telling the opposite? Why does his thumb in your mouth feel so good?

Tears were brimming your eyes already from his words and the feeling of his thumb as he pushed further inside your mouth almost reaching for your throat making your lips quiver.

He moved his thumb slightly out again, but still inside your mouth. Gently moving in circles, the pad of his thumb rubbed against the soft flesh of your tongue. “What's wrong? Did I hurt your damn feelings?”

You knew you probably looked so flushed right now, heavy breaths and whimpers escaping you as his thumb continued. And he chuckles.

“Come on doll, say something. Use your pretty little voice.”

You can't speak. You let out a shaken muffle against his thumb in your mouth. He chuckles again. Clearly he found your inability to speak amusing. Dickhead.

He continues pressing his thumb against the flesh of your tongue, your warm saliva coating his skin.

“Did my words take your fucking voice away?” You can’t help but twitch.

“You're so easy to mess with, letting me do whatever the fuck i want. Even when I hurt your feelings. You're basically a toy.” He slowly pulled his thumb out as he spoke, his fingers still grabbing the bottom of your chin in a tight grip.

A string of saliva was still connecting his thumb and you mouth as he pulled it out. He moves his thumb back in as you swallow, making your mouth clench around his sudden entrance.

All you could do was let out another muffle and furrow your brows in frustration. He was messing your damn lipstick up. You’re supposed to go to the family dinner soon and he's messing you up.

What's that supposed to fucking mean?

“Ah, right. Forgot you're a little doll who has to be all prim and proper for the family dinner.” He titled your chin higher, leaning down with his burning breath blowing into your face. “You're so stupid. Getting all flustered and nervous from just a few shitty words, and your biggest worry is your makeup getting messed. Don't you worry about that, sweetheart. Your makeup will get messed up soon enough.”

Why is he taunting you? If he hates you, why is he saying such words? You’re so confused, questioning everything everytime he speaks.

“I said I don't love you, right doll?” His hand traced down from your chin to your neck and slowly wrapped itself around it. Tightening his grip.

You’re scared. You’re so scared. And yet your body is enjoying it. The between of your legs are heated and soaking wet with his behaviour.

You don't know if it's because you’re attracted to him and because he's giving you attention or if it's simply because you enjoy being hurt.

Probably both.

Are you a masochist? Surely not.

“What's the matter? I thought you would say something to defend yourself, or at least try to stand up to me. But I guess it's too much for you, huh?” He slowly began to push you down, forcing you to lay down on the bed, his large hand still wrapped firmly around your neck.

As he hovers over your body, he looks down, slowly applying more pressure onto your neck, pinning you in place, “You're pathetic, doll. You really are.”

Is he going to kill you?

He’s chuckling again darkly at the expression of panic on your face, “Ah, did I scare you doll?” He says with a mocking, soft tone.

He continues to slowly apply more pressure and you can feel your heartbeat and breathing pace up, but he’s chuckling. Again. “What's wrong, doll? You look scared.”

Why does he keep saying that damn name?

He leans closer to your face, his breath scorching hot against your skin, his body hovering mere centimetres away from yours. “Are you afraid that I might hurt you?”

That sentence, that sentence caused your fear to overcome your feeling of arousal. He's being serious.

You can’t move.

You can’t breathe.

His grip on your neck slowly started to loosen again and you immediately start to catch your breath, but his hand begins trailing downwards, moving towards the fabric of your satin dress, “Don't worry, doll.” He paused, leaning even closer, his lips making their way to my ear.

“I won't hurt you too badly, for now.” He whispers into your ear. Jolting fear and terror right through you. What does that mean?

Is he going to abuse you later? Have you really married an abusive man?

You can't help but whimper in response, fear running through your veins.

“Look at you, doll.”

He keeps calling you that and you hate it. You hate it so much. You hate it because when he calls you it, it's to show you as pathetic, as something he can toy with.

He continues to move his large hand, pushing up the fabric of your dress and resting it on the fat of your thigh, just above the strap of the garter that you hadn't bothered to take off yet.

“You look so damn nervous and scared right now. Maybe you should be. It's not fun if you're not.” He slowly began to trail his hand up your thigh, pushing the fabric up in the progress.

“Stop.. we have to attend the dinner soon-“

“Oh, my Y/N is so damn worried about being on time for these stupid dinners, isn't she?” He starts to slowly slide his hand up further underneath your dress. “Calm down, doll. Theres no need to worry about the fucking family dinner. I'm sure they won't mind if we're a little late.”

Slowly, he began to toy with the strap of your garter, gently teasing the fabric with his long, cold fingers. “Maybe I just want to keep you all to myself.” He whispers into your ear and you can feel his breath hot against your neck, making you hitch your breath.

“Maybe I just want to mess you up before this stupid family dinner, and show everyone the way you fall apart under my touch.” He's right, you are falling apart.

How pathetic.

“You look so damn pretty in this dress. It's too bad that I know it wont stay on for much longer, doll.”

You flush, like an idiot.

You can literally feel the heat radiating off your cheeks. A cold, distant chuckle escapes him as he stares down at you.

What the fuck are you doing?

“Oh, doll.” He whispers into your ear once more. “You're getting all excited at the idea of me messing you up, aren't you?” His fingers gently push your underwear to the side, tracing and smoothing his digits over your already wet folds, up and down. Your eyeslids flutter in response, completely flushed as you let out a shuddered breath.

He chuckles again. He keeps fucking chuckling.

“Look at you, so desperate and needy, but I know you want this. You want me to mess you up. Don't you?”

Slowly, he removes his hand, tracing his finger up your body in a taunting manner, gently tracing the curves and dips of your figure before stopping at your chest, just above the fabric of the dress.

“Well it's not gonna happen.” He snaps in a low, frustrated tone looking down at you with nothing but immense hatred.

Oh, okay.

He removes his hand away from you, pushing himself back slowly, moving off your body that he finds so much disgust in. He sits on the edge of the bed.

That's it? He built up your breathing, made you get wet from his sickening words, and then just.. moves away?

"What the hell did you think was gonna happen here?" He says in a bitter tone.

You have no idea. You don't know why you’re being so passive either. This isn’t you.

Maybe it is you.

God get a grip!

“Did you think I was gonna give you what you want?” He paused, running a hand through his hair with a frustrated expression. He's so frustrated. He's always frustrated. “You really think you're that damn lucky?”

He pauses again as he sits on the edge of the bed. Then speaks again. “Y/N, you're so fucking desperate. It’s almost embarrassing for you.”

You lay on your back in that same position he had pinned you down on by holding onto your throat, almost killing you.

You’re left dumbfounded.

He continues to look down at the ground, avoiding eye contact with you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re so desperate for my touch. So desperate for my attention. You’re so obsessed with me it’s almost sickening.” He says in a low, annoyed tone.

That’s not true.

Maybe it is.

“Do you have any idea how much I hate this? How much I hate you?” He clenched his fists tighter and let out a bitter scoff, still avoiding eye contact. “I despise you, Y/N. Every single damn thing about you pisses me off. You’re nothing but a headache to me.” He paused for a moment, his voice becoming ice cold. “Honestly I wish I could just rip your fucking heart out and snap it in two.”

You flinch at the words, a single tear rolling down your eye that you didn’t even notice until it itches down the skin of your neck.

How could he say such things? Does he mean that?

You don’t like him. Forget it. All that attraction is gone.

“What, are you about to cry now?”

You don’t respond, another tear escaping as you stare at the ceiling.

Why are you crying? You don’t care.

“Ah look, another tear. Do you want me to comfort you or something?” He mocks tauntingly. “Want me to tell you that it’s just a little joke?” “Want me to say I love you?”

Stop it.

He continues to watch the tears escape your eyes as your face remains expressionless, an expression of disgust now on his face. You slowly sit up, hair messed from him pinning you on the bed, your lipstick smudged by his thumb.

“Look at you, you look a fuckin’ mess.” He chuckles as he takes in your current state.

You continue to stay silent. What's the point of biting back? He’ll just bite back worse.

“You look even more pathetic when you don’t speak Y/N, but I guess it’s better this way. It’s better when you don’t speak.” He says in a mocking tone. Always mocking you. “Because every single word that leaves your mouth pisses me off even more than I already was.” Bitter. “Honestly, I wish you would just shut your mouth all the time. It’d be better for the both of us.” He lets out a bitter scoff as he glares at you sternly. “But of course you never do. You’re always whining or begging. You’re so fucking loud.”

What the fuck is he ranting about now? You’re irritated.

He’s just throwing random delusions in his mind that he’s created in his small pea-sized brain to justify his hatred towards you. Well you hate him too now. “I’ve barely spoken since we got married this morning-“ But of course he cuts you off.

“You still spoke plenty at the wedding.” He says irritably as he rolls his eyes. “And all those people saw what a desperate, clingy mess you are. You were practically begging me to say I love you at the altar.”

That’s not true either.

“They saw you cling onto me like a toy. They saw you holding onto my arm. They saw the way you were all flustered when I said my vows to you.”

You were just playing the act of a happy bride.

“They saw how you looked at me when I slid that ring onto your finger. Like you were seeing your whole world fall into place or whatever other bullshit.” He lets out another scoff, his voice laced with bitterness. “God, you make me sick.”

“Well why did you agree to this arrangement if you never wanted it?” You bite back, irritated by his stupid accusations.

“I agreed to this arrangement because I didn’t have a damn choice, doll. Did you really think I would choose to marry you?” He clenches his fists at his sides again.

He does that quite often and you can't tell if he’s trying to ease his tension or if he’s doing that to hold back from punching you.

Probably the second theory.

What is it that he has against you so badly? Did he have to break up with someone to be with you or what?

“Now I’m stuck with you because father wants a fucking heir. I hate you, it makes me sick to think about a child with you.” He continues to glare at you, his expression still filled with hatred and annoyance. “It's like he knew exactly how to make me suffer. He knew that marrying me to a clingy, desperate doll like you would really piss me off. And he was right.”

He keeps saying you’re clingy. You’re not clingy?

He was the one with his thumb in your mouth a couple minutes ago. Not the other way around.

“Father knew that having a wife like you, who's obsessed with me, would be the worst possible nightmare for me. And now he’s trapped me with you forever, doll.”

You’re the trapped one here. You don’t know why you’re not arguing back as much. Well, mainly it’s because you know he won’t listen, won’t care and would just stick to his stupid thoughts.

“I’m not clingy, where the fuck do you keep getting that from?”

“Doll, you’ve been clinging to me since morning. At the damn wedding, you were hanging onto my arm the whole time, and you were blushing like a damn idiot when I slid the ring onto your finger. Do you really think that's not clingy?”

“Thats because we needed to show the guests that the marriage is fine.” You grit your teeth in response. Is it not obvious?

He sneered at your comment. “Ah, there it is. That bullshit excuse. You were doing it for the guests, right? To show them that everything is fine. You were just faking your clinginess to show the damn guests that it's ‘fine’, huh? Is that what you're telling yourself?”

He chuckles bitterly “You were not just faking it for the guests, doll. You wanted to cling onto me in front of everyone. You wanted to let them all know that you're mine now”

You let out a sigh as he speaks, nothing you say will go through his thick head. Whats the point in arguing back? You’d waste your breath.

He lets out a scoff. Always scoffing. “What? Is that a sigh of defeat, doll? Finally accepting that you're just a clingy, desperate, obsessed mess?”

“I’m not obsessive.”

He rolls his eyes again. “Oh? So you're not obsessed with me?” He paused for a moment, sarcastically pretending to think before he continued. “So you don't spend your whole day thinking about me? You dont think about when you get to touch me again? You dont fantasize about when you can get my attention again?”

Is he fantasising that? Are his memories messed up?

You don’t do any of that. You almost want to laugh, holy shit.

“You just have a big ego.” You say as you turn your head to glare back at him, scoffing a laugh. Frustration evident across your features.

He lets out a bitter chuckle at your comment. "Maybe you're right, doll. I do have a big ego.”

You sigh again as you begin to stand up.

“What, you giving up now?”

Ignoring him, you make your way to the large walk in closet and fix yourself in the mirror, and you know he’s watching you.

“Doll?” He calls out in a cold tone.

He calls out again, this time raising his voice slightly “Doll, get back out here and stop avoiding me.”

You brush my hair, still ignoring him. Now he wants you back near him? He’s just contradicting himself.

You’re hurting his ego by ignoring him yet you’re giving what he wants by leaving him alone.

Clearly his ego is winning.

“Y/N.” He says in a stern tone. No longer using that awfully sick nickname of ‘Doll.’ “I said get out here, now.”

Why does he want you near him again? He just said you make him sick. You reapply your lip liner.

He groans irritably when you continue to ignore his calls and you can feel his presence nearing you.

You tint your lips with a gloss, he’s right behind you now, peering over your shoulder as you continue to touch up your appearance. He watches in silence, his expression still filled with resentment and annoyance.

He lets out a scoff when he sees you running the liner over your lips again. He rolls his eyes at the sight. “Jesus Christ, doll. How much lipstick do you have on right now?”

You continue to ignore his words as you rub your lips together and dab them with your finger.

His expression remains cold and annoyed, but you don’t miss the way his pupils trail and take in every feature of your face and body through the mirror.

Finally, you turn around, his gaze still locked on you. His eyes slowly wander over every inch of you, taking in the way the light reflects off your skin, and how the fabric of your dress hugs your body. He takes in every little detail, from your hair, to the blush on your cheeks, to the shine on your lips.

You still ignore him, walking past him.

He lets out a scoff, clearly annoyed. “Are you just gonna pretend l'm not here now?”

He steps forward, stopping you in your tracks as he places a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to stop. “Don't ignore me.” He said in a cold, irritated tone.

He steps closer, closing the distance between the two of you. He grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look up at him. “Don't ignore me when I'm speaking to you, Y/N.”

He’s so close to you now, again, his icy gaze locked on you. His body is pressed up against yours, trapping you in his grasp. He holds your chin firmly, keeping you in place as he speaks in a cold, commanding tone. “You will look at me when I speak to you. You will not ignore me. Understand?”

Who the fuck is he talking to?

He waits for your response, his gaze fixated on you. He keeps his grip firm on your chin, not allowing you to look away or escape his grasp. “Answer me, y/n.”

You look up at him, taking in his presence. He’s beautiful. His heart is not. His heart is just as icy as his eyes. His beautiful eyes.

He holds your gaze for a moment, “Good.” He says in an approving tone. He releases his grip on your chin, but doesn't move away from you. He remains standing closely to you, his body still pressed against yours

He lets out a scoff, his expression still cold. “You really are a pain in the ass, you know that?” He paused for a moment, before continuing in a mocking tone.

Now he’s complaining? “You don’t even want me near you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I don't want you near me, doll. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna let you ignore me or avoid me when I'm speaking to you.”

Oh, so it’s about control.

You’re bored of being in this room. You’re bored of his childish behaviour. You sigh as you speak, “We should get going, your father’s estate is an hour away.”

He scoffs at your sigh. “Yeah, yeah we should get going. And don't sigh at me again, doll. You know that pisses me off.”

Do you care? No.

He takes a step back from you, giving you some space to move. He walks over to his wardrobe putting on plain black pants and a white shirt, leaving the first 2 buttons unbuttoned. God, he looks so good.

He fixes his hair quickly then you both head over to the penthouse entrance and pull on your shoes.

“Come on.” He grabs his car keys and you both make your way out. He steps into the elevator alongside you, his expression still cold and emotionless. Standing silently in the elevator, he crosses his arms over his chest.

The elevator dings and you both enter the garage. He leads the way to his car, unlocking the doors with the key fob in his hand.

He walks over to the driver seat but doesn’t open the passenger door for you.

Why would he anyway? There’s nobody around.

Nobody to fake your appearance to.

🏷️taglist - @shokosbunny @kalopsia-flaneur @ssc7514 @labelt-san @esposadomd @wrldwyde @katbug37 @raging-hormonal-emotion-blog @mutsu422 @sebastianlover @reneny @chososg1rl @blissingtaehyung @dazailover1900 @blindbabycadder @kurookinnie @sillyfreakfanparty @eolivy @n0tviv @lavender-hvze @lilastimeee @nothingseenstuff @gentlebeari @itawifeyy @yung-notorious @vymeimei @holeylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @sinn-clair @akirawatchestv @chanslazyrap @jjili @sharkerino

(names in red couldnt be tagged - pls fix this!)

[suguwife]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮. (one)

tags: Gojo Satoru x f!reader, kpop idol x influencer, fake dating, 18+, mdni, drugs, substance abuse, profanity, smau series

a/n: ignore how i mixed up the first posts retweets and views and @kitty’s one too😭 just flip it around, simple mistake mb

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - Gojo Satoru, a top idol, finds himself at the centre of a public scandal after being photographed in a club appearing intoxicated. Rumors of substance abuse quickly circulate, causing fans and the public to question his reliability and professionalism. Due to severe backlash, his PR team proposes a fake relationship with Y/N, a social media influencer renowned for her healthy lifestyle, to salvage his tarnished image, reduce suspicions and trick the public. However, trouble intensifies when he’s unable to let go of his addiction.  - 𝐓𝐖𝐎

[suguwife]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮. (twelve)

tags: Gojo Satoru x f!reader, kpop idol x influencer, fake dating, 18+ mdni, desperate gojo, addiction, overdose, mentions of past abusive/toxic relationship, some fluff, angst, teasing, profanity, arguing, written chapter, smau series

- 10.8k wc

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - Gojo Satoru, a top idol, finds himself at the centre of a public scandal after being photographed in a club appearing intoxicated. Rumors of substance abuse quickly circulate, causing fans and the public to question his reliability and professionalism. Due to severe backlash, his PR team proposes a fake relationship with Y/N, a social media influencer renowned for her healthy lifestyle, to salvage his tarnished image, reduce suspicions and trick the public. However, trouble intensifies when he’s unable to let go of his addiction. - 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

(previous)

“Shall I come over?” Satoru's voice over the phone is casual, as if suggesting the most ordinary thing.

“And do what?”

“I don’t know. Anything. Maybe... give you a massage? It might help.”

He can’t possibly be serious, “Satoru, I was just joking before-”

“I’m not.” His tone is firm, leaving no room for doubt.

“But it’s so late?”

He huffs in frustration at your reluctance. “I don't care. I wasn't planning to sleep anyway. You're in pain. I can hear it. I'm coming over.”

“You don’t even know where I live.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes as you stretch your aching legs once more.

“Tell me.”

“You don’t need to-“

“Fine, I'll ask your manager.” He hangs up abruptly, leaving you staring at your phone in disbelief with furrowing brows. Does he really think he can just waltz up in here like it's no big deal?

But you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want a massage. His hands are huge, it would surely feel like heaven.

And you can’t lie to yourself and say that you don’t miss him. Because you kind of do.

But you know him, he’s always flirting. What if you really do end up falling for him from his stupid flirtiness?

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling in exhaustion as you try to massage your own sore muscles. But it’s futile and useless, your hands are too small, too tired, and too weak to press down hard enough.

Maybe you wouldn't mind if he massaged you. A free massage from the famous Gojo Satoru? Yes, please.

After around 7 minutes you hear a ring on your door, he's so fast.

You trudge over to your apartment door, rubbing your eyes as you do so. Once you open the door you see the tall man before you, looking down at you sympathetically.

He has a small bag in his hand with the medical plus sign designed onto it, “I told you, you didn’t have to..”

He sighs before he speaks "Yeah, I know. But you're in pain, I'm not just gonna ignore that, am I?” He holds up the bag in his hand, “Plus I bought some extra painkillers. The pharmacist said it's a stronger one to help with bone pain so... worth trying."

God, how cute can he get?

He didn’t need to do that, you already have medication for your disease at home, you’ve taken everything and nothing's worked. “Which ones?”

He pulls out the package, checking the name of the medication "Uh... This one- Naproxen sodium. Have you tried this one before?"

“Uhm.. I don’t think I can use that..”

“Why not?”

“I don’t usually take it.. I'm allergic to the stuff inside it.”

“Okay, I'll be right back.”

“Wait no it’s fine-“ but he’s already left, his long strides quickly placing him into the elevator as soon as you step out to stop him, and the doors have shut.

What is wrong with this man? You run your hand over your face, leaving the door open for him. Then you make your way to your couch, staring at the door as you wait, cracking your toes to relieve the pain.

He really did just drive all the way here past midnight to give medication, just to leave again and get another one.

Thoughtful.

He comes back, panting a little for breath, his hair slightly dishevelled as if he ran up a thousand stairs, “Okay, I’m back..” he says as he takes off his shoes then walks inside, closing the door behind him, the lock automatically keeping you both together, inside.

He crouches down next to you so his face is in your view whilst you stay sat on your couch. He’s so damn beautiful it's hypnotising.

There's a soft, tired smile on your face now as you look at him whilst he speaks, “I got you tylenol, they said it’s safe and can ease muscle pain. Is that okay?”

You chuckle looking down at him, “Yes, that’s fine. But I told you, you didn’t have to. Seriously.”

He huffs slightly, getting frustrated again, “For the 100th time, I know that I didn't need to come here. But I wanted to. Why can't you just accept that I want to help?”

“You don't accept mine.”

He sighs as he goes silent, instead placing the bag on the coffee table and walking towards your open plan kitchen, filling up a glass of water for you. “I'm sorry, okay? I know I'm stubborn about accepting help. But why can't you accept it from me just once?”

Because you don’t need it. You can do everything on your own, you always have.

There’s a difference between you and Satoru.

You don’t need help and do most things independently, because there’s no health risks and you know how to deal with yourself.

Satoru doesn’t accept help at all because he’s scared of showing his weakness, and he’s unable to manage his health risks, unable to deal with his issues in a healthy manner.

“Just let me play the caregiver or something? You're always trying to take care of me, so let me try taking care of you for once.”

“I could literally just go to sleep, it's not that serious.” Because it’s not, your muscles don’t hurt that much. Just a little, enough pain that you can cope with because you have been for years.

“It is serious,” He says, walking back towards you with the glass of water, crouching in front of you again. “Just... just take the pills. Here.”

He hands you two pills and the glass of water, watching you carefully as you swallow them down.

Is he doing this out of guilt?

He takes the glass from you, placing it on the table for you, then helps you to stand up, his large single hand on the small of your back guiding you back to your bedroom in silence.

You can’t say you want him to stop and leave you alone, even if it’s out of guilt. It feels nice, being cared for by another man after so long.

Did Naoya ever care for you like this? You can’t even remember. All you remember is how he sounded when he yelled, and how it felt to have his rough hands knock against your fragile skin.

Gently, he sits you on the bed, his hand still on your back as he looks at you, but you don’t meet his gaze and look down instead, a little shyness growing within you at his stare.

“The pharmacist said the effects of the pills should kick in after a while. Do you still want that massage?”

Oh my god he’s serious. You were just joking… or were you? A massage doesn't sound too bad, especially when it’d be from him.

You can’t even make your own decisions when it comes to him, he's got that effect on you. This isn’t normal for you. You’re always able to decide on things, but when it comes to him.. fuck he’s messing your mind up!

“Uh.. well.”

“Is that a yes?” He says, his face leaning closer to the side of your cheek. His warmth brushing onto your skin and you shiver ever so slightly, hoping he didn’t notice.

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, I'm not just gonna sit here and watch you be uncomfortable. The pills may work or they may not, you'll be uncomfortable until then either way, so let me try something to maybe make that discomfort a bit less intense.”

Oh, so now he’s somehow educated on health?? But not with himself?

“Go on, lie on your back and I'll massage you.”

Okay.. you will.

You lay on your back, looking at him tiredly as he looks at you with nothing but a tender care in his eyes.

“Where does it hurt the most?”

“Down here..” you point at your legs and then your ankles. Your eyes notice his Adam's apple bob up and down, swallowing. You have to hold back your laugh because this whole situation is just so unrealistic, but he’s the one that suggested a massage. It's not your fault if he feels nervous.

He lifts your silk nightdress up slightly so it reveals your knees, fingers brushing over your skin like a feather making you tense up just, but not enough for him to notice.

“Right, so I'll start here then, yeah?” His hands are gently placed and wrapped around your left calf, “I'll be gentle.”

“I’ll be so gentle..” Get that reminder out of your head. You’re not in the car, he’s not hovering over you, you’re not going to fuck again.

You feel him knead into the tense muscles of your legs and you face slightly and exhaling heavily at the pain as he carefully continues working.

“Bear with the pain for a little more, ‘Kay?”His voice is so soft right now, so soothing and calm.. you want him to talk more, you want his breath against your skin as he speaks, want his hands to never leave your skin.

Oh god, stop it.

You don’t want that. Or do you? No idea. You’re still too scared to get into another real relationship after Naoya. You’re still scared of the issues behind Satoru’s addiction.

Not scared as in you’ll hate him and run away from fear, scared out of worry, scared that he’d slip away from this earth because of his addiction.

It just seems to be increasing the pain in your muscles.

Gojo Satoru POV

My eyes glance over to her toes curling up, cracking the pain away. They’re so beautiful. She’s so beautiful. Every inch of her.

I should write a song about her, one day. I will. I’ll do just that.

I keep up the massage, applying a gentle but firm pressure to work the sore muscles, moving down her legs to her ankles. Her damn skin.. it’s so.. so smooth. Oh and that dress. That simple silk nightdress she’s wearing is so damn beautiful on her. She’s going to drive me mad.

She already has, she’s driven me mad already and has no idea.

My eyes then glance over to her bare face, relaxing.. breathing heavily with slightly furrowed brows, her breath letting out small sighs of relief, hoping this is a good sign that I’m actually doing something positive. “Helping?” And she nods at me, relief washing over my body almost immediately.

“Let me try the other one now, alright?” I move my hands over to her right leg now, working from the ankle to the knee, “Tell me if it hurts too much though.”

“No.. feels good.” She says, eyes shut in bliss.

“Shall I do your thighs as well?” She nods again, eyes still shut.

I swallow down painfully, my mind momentarily distracted again. I have to silently curse myself because I can’t seem to stop my mind from being distracted by her, which I know is stupid when she’s in pain and I’m supposed to be here to help.

But it’s a little hard to focus when it comes to her.

Gently, I lift her nightdress more up, I don’t know why my breath hitches. We’ve had sex before, but the car was pretty dark, I couldn’t see her skin this clearly.

After my palms begin to massage into the flesh of her thighs, she begins to stretch out and groan, and fuck, my thoughts just become even more distracted. My body wants to do things it shouldn’t be doing when she’s in pain. I try to keep my focus and speak through clenched teeth, “Does it hurt when you stretch out?”

“Just hurts.. I don’t know.”

“Just lie still and let me try easing the pain out..”

I carefully start to massage her inner thigh, kneading the muscles to try and ease the pain, my fingers gliding over the smoothness of her skin, fighting the urge to let my thoughts drift off to something sinful, but they already are.

Stupid.

But she just looks so damn enticing like this, she feels so amazing under my skin.

I want to feel her like this forever.

As she continues to let out sighs, I move my hands towards her hips, using both hands to knead the muscles, trying my hardest to keep focus.

Honestly, I’m so stupid for suggesting this, I’m already sweating just a little from looking at her like this. All laid on the bed for me to touch her skin.

I just want to kiss every inch of her delicate skin, from her head to her toes. And I want to kiss her slowly, sensually, to savour the moment, to show my love.

My mind grows hazy as I massage the top of her hip and the sound of her breaths growing heavier, my mind becomes lost in the feeling of her skin under my fingers, the sight of her figure and my urges only grow stronger.

God she’s so perfect, is it insane for me to see a future with her already?

“Does it hurt everywhere?” I ask, and she nods again.

“Everywhere? Your whole body?” And she nods again as I continue to push and knead the bottom of my palm against her tense muscles.

I know I should be doing this to help ease her pain, but my mind can’t help but admire her like this. When I push down hard enough to make her legs twitch.

I can’t help my feelings. Can’t help this magnetic attraction towards her.

It’s cute how she scrunches her facial expressions and furrows her brows, but I hate that she’s in pain right in front of me yet these are the sinful thoughts my mind wants to run to.

I just want to touch her more, to massage her with my lips and kisses instead, to tell her how beautiful she is, to tell her how I feel every time I’m near her. To tell her how I feel when she’s not near me.

But I have to hold back these urges, knowing she’ll just shut me down because of that damn contract.

How is this all fake to her? How is this all normal? Is this even a fake relationship between us both?

How?

The way she groans out ever so slightly as my hands knead firmly down on her hip bone makes it harder for me to keep myself in check.

What are you doing to me sweetheart…?

My body wrestles with itself, her body twitching a little under my hands and the faint sounds of her pleasure as I knead against the tension in her bones are too distracting to focus on the real task at hand.

Sighing, I desperately grit my teeth for something to hold on to whilst my hands continue their ministrations.

“Fuck.. fuck it’s killing me.. I’m sorry, the massage isn’t helping anything..” She groans out, eyes squeezing shut and back open again as she sits up.

“It’s okay.. I’m just sorry that I haven’t been able to actually ease your pain. Does this usually happen?”

“Thanks it’s okay, and yeah it does.”

My poor, sweet girl. I’d do anything to take it away, anything she’d ask me to do. I’d do it.

Apart from fully getting off drugs, I’m not so sure about that.

“How does it feel?”

“Feels like.. like a big boulder being pushed down onto me.”

I watch as she cracks her toes, wrists and fingers again, noticing how she flexes and curls them in pain.

My eyes analyse every small, faint wrinkle in her knuckles, the gloss of her baby pink nail polish, the way her nails are curved rather than sharp or squared or broken. I stare in admiration for how well kept her hands are.

Beautiful.

Every inch of her.

Nothing could ever make me change my mind on that.

That day I had seen her at the celebration party for reaching 100 million views, she had already caught my eye.

The way her hair hung from her shoulders, the way her posture was always so upright and perfect, the way I could see her eyes glistening from a distance, the way the corner of her lips were always upturned, always smiling at anyone who’d talk to her.

I could see the shine of her skin back then from a distance, and I can still see it now, even when she’s in pain and not doing so well.

She always manages to keep herself looking her best, always so elegant in everything she does.

When we talked to each other whilst she congratulated us for our success, her voice was so smooth and soft, so sweet and gentle.

I just wanted to pull her into a private area and make love to her.

But I didn’t.

I should’ve made a move on her back then.

She didn’t come to our other celebration when we hit 1 billion views, I still don’t know why. Did they even invite her? Did she decline? Did she purposely not come?

But it’s okay, fate seemed to have brought us back together over my scandal and although we barely know each other it feels as though I’ve known her since I was a child.

It feels like I’ve always known her.

This magnetic pull towards her is too strong, too strong for only a week of being in this “fake” relationship.

“Does anything help with the pain?”

“.. I usually hug my teddy. It sounds childish, I know, but I threw it away so.”

Oh you sweet girl, it doesn’t sound childish at all to me, it’s cute. Just another thing to add to my list on why I like her.

“Why'd you throw it away?”

“My ex gave it to me.”

A hint of jealousy slithers into my mind almost immediately at another man, but he’s your ex, so it’s fine, right? I end up clenching my jaw anyway, “Well, you don’t want anything that reminds you of him.”

“Nope.” She says casually, popping the ‘P’ and I don’t miss the way she avoids eye contact with me at the mention.

She lays back down and I place the bottom of my palm on her lower abdomen this time, the only thing separating my hand from her skin being the thin material of her clothes. “Why’d you break up?” I question as I begin to knead into the area, causing a gasp to escape her pretty lips.

Oh. A sensitive area.

Oh fuck.

I continue to push down and knead into the area casually, repeating the question like normal but with a little bit of jealousy and curiosity, “Why’d you break up?”

She’s panting now, eyelids fluttering as she scrunches her face, “That.. that area’s sensitive.” She gasps out, squirming and twitching her legs.

“Sensitive?” Oh, I know that, but I can’t seem to stop, I just continue, pushing harder and eliciting a groan to come out those plush, tainted lips again.

Those lips I want to taste with a lick when she has a sweet drink. Those lips I so badly just want to bite, kiss and make sore. Those lips I want to feel nibble every freckle and line on my skin. Those lips I so badly want to wake up to every damn morning.

She moans.

She moans out a whine, squirming more as I push down even further beneath her stomach.

It felt like something had snapped inside me as I heard her, the sight of her body moving and twisting under my hands, the sound of her small moans and whimpers, all working together to drive me absolutely crazy.

Crazy.

Her moans are like music to my ears, almost intoxicating. Almost like a drug that I need for myself at all times.

I can’t help myself. Can't control myself.

What’s happened to me?

Now I place both hands on her beneath her stomach, moving the bottom of palms up and down into her tight muscles, too focused on enjoying seeing her body jump and twitch under my touch, the sound of her whimpers and whines getting more and more intense, almost forgetting that this massage was to ease her pain.

I lean my head down as I continue, my face inching closer to her ear, “Sensitive, u said?” I whisper, a subtle smirk playing on my lips.

I can’t hold back anymore, she makes it too damn hard for me to do so.

How could anyone possibly hold back from her beauty? From her sweet and kind heart?

“Satoru, you idiot!” She yells through a whine, face scrunched in pleasure and annoyance and it only fuels me further.

Oh, kind.

I know I’m acting stupid right now, but I’m enjoying myself way too much sweetheart.

I admire the way her body jumps and the muscles twitch as I push into her lower abdomen.

Shit.

I continue pushing and kneading my fingers down below her belly button, my other palm flat on the mattress beside her arm as I looms over, feeling a sense of satisfaction as she whines and squirm, “Like this?”

“You still didn’t tell me why you broke up with him.”

Oh, she doesn’t even respond to me! Too filled with the sensations I’m giving that she whines to, small whimpers escaping too.

I love the sounds she makes, “Answer me,” I say firmly, “You still haven’t told me why.”

I circle and press down the pads of my fingers in a quick pace on her lower abdomen, her moans getting louder and louder. “Tell me.”

“Y-you don’t need to know.” She finally speaks through a gasp but it only makes me clench my jaw, jealousy hissing through my veins. Is that love? It has to be.

It is. I know it.

I am in love with her.

I’ve never felt like this about anyone, it has to be love.

“I do. I want to know.”

Her hips and legs jerk, and I smirk.

I’m so lost sweetheart, my mind and body are at complete loss at this point, my thoughts going crazy each time her body arches and twists slightly under my touch, everytime she gasps or whimpers when I push my fingers down onto the area.

She’s so high off my massage that she can’t even get up.

God.. she always seems to tense up or shiver when I touch her. What does that mean?

What am I doing?

“Satoru- S-stop massaging that area you dick!” She moans out through a whine, panting heavily.

But I can’t help myself, I press my fingers down, knead and release again, continuing as I knead down and she’s still gasping and panting, “Does it not feel good?”

A thrill runs into me as she moans louder and I press harder against the sensitive spot, “You love it, don’t you?”

“That’s enough..”

“Really?” But I press down again, and she’s moaning again.

She lifts herself up on her elbows, panting breath, parted lips half lidded eyelids, furrowed brows.

Beautiful.

“Look, you're getting all worked up over a simple massage y/n.”

I knead deeper into her abdomen again, watching as her body lifts up slightly, the small groan escaping her lips.

“What if we had sex again?”

“What the hell!”

“I’m just kidding..” Too far?

“Are you still high on that.. that fucking heroin?”

“I did take a lot sweetheart, but I’m not high.” I don’t stop my massage, even if she’s lifted herself up.

“Fuck- stop it.”

“But I think I’m getting addicted to how you sound.” I say as she lays back down again, her body obviously too weak to hold itself up whilst I continue kneading deep into her sensitive area.

“I’m not.. a fucking drug.” She says through gasps. Oh but she is.

I chuckle as she speaks, all flushed from just my hands, “You sure about that? ‘Cause I’m feeling pretty goddamn high right now. You're acting and sounding like a drug right now.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” She says, staring at me with confusion and annoyance across her face.

Oh god, I know I’m not making sense but I simply can’t get myself to care anymore, I’m too lost.

I smirk as I speak, staring into those beautiful eyes of hers, “It means that you’re just as mind-numbing and addictive as a drug.”

“You're speaking through lust ‘cause.. you’re high.”

I chuckle, shaking my head slightly, my heartbeat knocking against my chest. “Its not lust.. You probably don’t realise but you really do drive me insane and numb me at the same time. It’s weird isn’t it? Having known each other for only a week yet I feel so much towards you y/n.”

I don’t care anymore, I’m saying what’s on my mind. I don’t care.

I have to, I can’t hold it in anymore.

I love her, I know I do.

“Shut up.. you don’t mean any of that.”

How can she say that? Such a clueless woman lost in denial.

“Oh but I do sweetheart. I mean every word.”

She lifts herself up on her elbows again, is she going to kiss me?

Oh.

I jerk slightly once her palm reaches my cheek harshly, it was the last thing I expected, really.

A slap from the woman I love, why did I love it? Why do I want to feel it again?

Why did she even slap me? Did I go too far?

“You can do that again if you like” I say, half amused.

But her gaze on me is sharp, “Stop it, Satoru. I’m being serious.”

The sound of my name leaving her lips only makes me smirk more, it just sounds so perfect. Like my name was made for her to say, and only her

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.” I chuckle slightly as I move my hands away from her skin, “But why do you have to act so goody two shoes about this whole thing? It's not like anyone would know. I mean nothing happened after we had sex in my-“

“Because!” She cuts me off, sitting properly now.

My eyes narrow as I stare at her being unable to give a proper explanation, “Well? Because what?”

“We don’t know each other.”

“But we do know each other.” I can’t help but feel ticked off, we do know each other. We do. I know her, I’m sure of it.

“You're moving way too fast..” She sighs out, palm on her forehead.

“I don’t really care if I’m moving too fast. So what? I like you, do you like me?” It just slipped out, is that how I’m going to confess? It sounded shitty.

I need to do better.

“You’re so unserious. This whole relationship is to fix your image because you..” and you nudge your finger into my chest, “.. got caught doing drugs.”

Fine, I’ll be serious, sweetheart.

Just like you want.

My jaw grits at her words, frustrated. Mainly because she sounds so serious and uptight about this whole thing, and I can’t tell whether she dislikes me or is genuinely concerned because she cares.

“Yeah, I was caught doing drugs, so what? That’s my own goddamn life y/n. What right do you have to tell me what to do?”

She sighs, moving to lean against her headboards. “You just took everything I said the completely wrong way. I’m saying, you’re moving too fast. This relationship is to fix your image and for me to help you. That's all. Not for sex.”

Did I make it seem like I only want her for sex?

I look at her, she’s only here to fix my image. That's all.

“So you don’t care about me do you? You’re only here for me because of some stupid contract?”

“What? That’s not what I said.”

I scoff, trying to maintain my composure, “Then what are you saying? You’re only here to fix my image is that all? So you don’t actually care about me?” Here, I thought she would’ve liked me back.

Maybe I am thinking too far ahead of myself.

God, you’re so stupid, Satoru.

“I am here to fix your damn image, and because I do care, I wouldn’t have tried to save your fucking life a couple hours ago if I didn’t care.”

I look at her for a moment, my eyes scanning and studying her face to look for any signs of lies, any sign that she’s not telling the truth, but I can’t find one.

“You’re only here because you care.. because you care about me.” I say to myself slowly, my anger slowly disappearing as realisation finally sinks in.

“Not for sex.” She says.

I scoff jokingly, a small smile on my lips. Oh sweetheart, I know that. I’d never see her for just sex, is that what she thinks? Is that what I sound like? A sex freak?

“Yeah, yeah I know not for sex.” My tone switches from being light-hearted to serious, my eyes staring into yours, my words soft but firm, “And you care. About me.”

She stares back at me with confusion, and I just stare back with admiration behind my straight face. “You care. About me.”

“Why do you keep saying that? Of course I care about you I’ve been trying to help since the start.”

My lip curl up into a smile, a strange warmth going through my body, “Yeah you have, but I wasn’t sure if you cared about me because I was addicted or if you cared about me as a person.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Well I wasn’t sure if you were trying to help me solely because I’m an addict or whether you have feelings for me.”

“I don’t have feelings for you, Satoru.”

Her face is emotionless, my lips falling back into a straight line.

Don’t lie to me sweetheart.

“Right.. you don’t.. right..”

She sighs again, “Didn’t we both agree that hookup was meaningless?”

I looks into her eyes again, my mind completely scrambled as I looks for the right words to say. I don’t want to admit that I’ve been feeling something since the beginning if she’ll just shut me down like this. But it’s getting so hard to deny.

Why should I deny it anyway? I know how I feel.

“Well.. no, no it wasn’t meaningless to me.”

“Well it was Satoru. I’m sorry.”

I can’t help the gritting of my jaw at her words. My heart is starting to hurt now. What is she doing to me.

“Fine, it was meaningless. But tell me, how do you feel about me?”

“I see you as a friend, that I need to help, and that I worry about.”

She keeps denying.

Keeps. Denying.

“Just a friend? Nothing more?”

She nods, looking away.

She’s looking away, she’s looking away from me. She doesn’t want to face me.

She doesn’t want to admit it.

I know her. I’m sure of it.

But fine, keep denying it.

“Right.. just a friend. Got it.”

She continues to refuse to meet my eyes again, the both of us sitting in silence for a moment.

But it hurts, to have her deny like this. It feels like my heart is being stabbed a thousand times at her denial, it’s overwhelming.

The room feels as if it’s closing around me and all of a sudden I need to leave. “I'll go home, it's late. The tylenol should have hit and eased your muscles by now.”

I stand up from the bed and begin walking out the bedroom, wanting to get the hell out. It’s so suffocating.

“..I’m sorry.” She says quietly from the bed as I reach her door frame.

My feet stop in their tracks. I don’t say anything straight away, keeping my back to her, clenching my jaw and gripping my hand into a tight fist, trying to contain myself.

“Don’t apologise, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Why does she always apologise?

My feet continue walking, heading towards the entrance of her apartment.

But my hand stops on the door handle and I pause. I stand there silently for a moment trying to understand what I’m feeling. A wave of mixed emotion overcome me.

I’ve never felt so many powerful and confusing emotions all at once, and it isn’t till now till I fully realise that all I want right now is to turn around and grab her and pull her back down onto the bed in my arms and to kiss her senseless.

The drugs.. they’re still in my system, it’s messing my mind and I need to be near her to calm me down.

But I can’t. I can’t calm down.

I love her, I can’t bear to let her go like this. I need her to give me a chance.

I need her to realise she likes me too, even if it’s not love.

Because I know she feels something towards me too, I just know it.

I need to do something.

I stand there for a moment longer, wrestling with the thoughts inside my mind, but eventually decide to throw all my restraint out the window. I can’t take it anymore sweetheart. I just can’t.

You’ve driven me crazy, and I need you to know what you’ve done to me.

I quickly turn around walking back towards her bedroom, she’s stood there, head down and about to shut the door before I stop her.

I need to confess to her properly, maybe then she’ll truly understand

My fingers quickly take hold of her wrist, tugging her towards me causing her to stumble against my chest, a desperate look in my eyes as I stare into hers full of confusion.

Oh god, she's just so.. so beautiful. So precious. So perfect. I can’t let her go like this. I can’t just be “friends” by contract.

“What the- Aren’t you leaving?” She says, staring up at me wide eyed with furrowed brows.

But she’s not pushing me away, she’s not writhing her arms telling me to let go of her.

Just as I expected.

I know she feels for me too.

My body towers over her as I look into her eyes with desperation, “I can’t.”

“What? Satoru get out.” She says, calmly. She’s so precious.

Ignoring her command, my hands take hold of both her wrists, pulling her closer, her body pressed against mine.

“Please y/n.. Please...” I say quietly as my breath brushes against her skin. I can feel her heartbeat, it’s so rapid, just like mine.

I hold her wrists tighter, needing her closer to me, needing to feel her body against mine, the pain in my heart is becoming too unbearable.

I bury my face into her neck as I wrap my arms around her waist, inhaling her heavenly body scent and relishing in the feeling of her body against mine. I allow myself to feel as much as possible, the pain in my heart slowly disappearing as I realise how addicting it is to feel her in my arms, how she smells, how she is.

The feeling of her warmth calms me, almost like a sedative.

She doesn’t move, doesn’t push me off her, doesn’t tense up, but I feel her shiver, I feel the flutter of her skin and I hear the hitch of her breath as I nuzzle into her neck further.

My grip around her waist tightens. It feels like I’ll never get the chance to hold her again like this. My mind is numb, only filled with nothing but her smell, the feeling of her body, the sound of her breathing.

I can’t let her go, I will never let her go.

“Please.. Can’t I be selfish just this once? Just this once.. please.” I just want to hold her, to feel her. That’s all. Just to hold her and for her to hold me back.

“You already are selfish.”

I pull my head away from her neck and stare into her eyes again. I’m silent for a moment, but eventually speak again in a soft, pleading tone, “What? ‘Cause I take drugs?” And she doesn’t respond, she doesn’t look at me. Averting her gaze elsewhere.

“What does that have anything to do with this? How does that have anything to do with me wanting to be greedy with you right now?”

“You're acting on being high you’re not sober right now-“

I scoff in slight disbelief at her words. My heart clenches.

She’s telling me that I’m only holding her like this because I have drugs in my system, that I wouldn't be doing this if I were sober.

That's not true, I know that I’m sober enough, enough to know my own feelings at least.

I love her. I do. This has to be love I’m feeling because I’ve never felt such intensity towards anyone else. I’ve never acted intensely when it’s come to anyone else.

“You don't know if that's why I'm doing this.”

“You literally overdosed earlier, they’re in you, you’re high.”

“Yeah.. Okay? And? That doesn't mean I can’t think clearly right now. I’m sober. I know what I’m doing.” Oh, if only she knew the reason why I overdosed.

God she drives me mad.

“No you don’t Satoru. Go home already.”

I scoff again, my arms instinctively tightening around her further, my body refusing to release her from my hold. The feeling of her body against mine is so damn addictive and I can't get enough of it.

“I'm not going. I'm too selfish, remember?”

The feeling of her body against mine is driving me crazy but numb at the same time, my mind consumed with nothing but the need to have her closer and closer, the more I can feel, the more I can breathe her in, the better. I just want to melt into her.

I bury my face back into her neck, nuzzling into her skin, inhaling her scent and the moment I do, it’s as if I just snorted something so mind numbing it’s made me go haywire.

I can't help it, I can't hold back anymore. God, I need her so bad. I need her to understand how I feel, how mad she drives me.

I need her to understand.

I push her against the wall of her bedroom, trapping her between the wall and my body, my hands grip her hips now, my face so incredibly close to the warmth of hers.

Our hearts beat and knock against each other, our heavy breaths colliding.

“Satoru I’m being serious we can’t.. the contract..”

I’m getting tired of hearing her mention that damn contract or the fact that this is a fake relationship, the more times she says it, the more my heart feels like it's being stabbed over and over again. I just want to just hold her and never let go.

I stare into her eyes with sadness and desperation as I speak quietly, “But I'm being serious too. why can't I just have you..?”

“I don’t feel anything for you so stop it now!” She yells into my face.

I freeze, my eyes full of desperation but still unwilling to give up on her because I know she feels for me. I just know it.

Gut feeling.

Reader POV

“I’m being serious..” You say, a slight hesitation in your voice.

What does he even want?

He keeps staring into your eyes with that sad, desperate look. “It’s been a week, Satoru. A week. You need to calm down. Go home please” You say, concern etched into your face as you speak.

“Calm down? How can I calm down when the feeling of you in my arms is driving me insane. You want me to calm down, but I can't. Tell me, are you sure you don't feel anything, really? Is this really all just fake to you?”

“I don’t.” Maybe you do feel something for him, but how can you be so sure? It's just mere attraction, but who wouldn’t be attracted to him?

He lets out a strangled scoff at your words, “Bullshit. I don't believe you. You don't have the slightest feeling towards me? Not one drop of care or affection you feel towards me?"

What is he even talking about?

“I’ve told you this, Satoru. Of course I care about you, as a friend. Why are you moving so fast? You’re taking everything out of proportion as if we’ve known each other for months.” You need to shut him down before he escalates any further, need to make him understand.

“I’m not moving too fast. You don’t get it, you don’t understand how I feel.”

What is he actually even talking about right now?

“I think I love you.”

You freeze, he doesn’t mean that. He does not mean that.

How can he just say those three words with such ease?

“What?”

“God.. you don’t understand how I feel at all.” He’s inching his face closer to you now.

Love? Is he serious right now? It’s been a little over a week.

“Yeah, I don’t. Who falls in love with someone after a week of knowing them?” Because what? He's being illogical.

His grip on your hips tighten, a shiver running through your skin forming goosebumps on your arms, "I do, okay? I feel like my heart is being crushed when you say you don't feel the same way because I know you do, you just want to deny it. I'm desperate for you, l'm so unbelievably desperate for you, you just don't understand.”

What?

Is he going insane? What is he talking about? You can’t even seem to think.

“I'm so desperate for you my heart hurts, I can't handle it if you only view me as a friend, I need you to feel for me more than that...l need you to feel more for me…”

What the hell is he saying?

You stand there, shocked, confused, muddled as he pulls you closer against him.

Suddenly everything feels hot, his breath against your face, his hands on your body, why does your body feel so limp under his touch?

He buries his head back into the crook of your neck, nuzzling his face into your skin and you can feel his heart pounding against yours.

"You don't get it.” He mumbles into your neck, tone filled with need and a slight tremble in his voice, “You don't understand the things you're making me feel. My mind can't function right when I'm near you. I can't think of anything else other than you when im near you. I can't sleep at night without you in my mind... I can't focus on anything other than how you make me feel everytime I’m around you and I need more... I need more of you-"

“You’re just high, Satoru.” He can’t possibly mean any of that, it makes no sense to you.

How can anyone be so desperate for someone.. in such a short amount of time? How can he be so desperate for you out of all people?

Abruptly, he pushes you against the wall again making your breath hitch, his body pressing hard against yours, pinning you between him and the wall.

“No, l'm not listening to this anymore. Stop telling me I'm high or whatever. I'm telling you I'm not. I'm thinking completely clearly right now, I need you to understand, I don't care if it's been a week. I'm feeling these feelings for you and they're eating me up.”

“Why? Why do you even feel that?” Why is this escalating so far.

He looks at you as you look back at him, his eyes piercing into yours as he looks into your face, his arms wrapped around you, holding you against the wall, "Why? Why do you think!? Because I don't control the way I feel towards you. You're like a drug, you've got me addicted to you. Look what you’re fucking doing to me.”

Who is this man? This isn’t Satoru..

“I’m not a fucking drug. Don’t you dare say that.”

“You are to me. You've got me addicted alright. I physically cannot control myself around you anymore. The moment I'm in your presence it's like every thought disappears from my mind except you...your body, your scent, you, I'm addicted to it, I'm addicted to you.”

He can’t.. be serious. You don’t even know how to respond. Your mind is just full of questions, why is he confessing his love?

Why does he love you? You’ve barely done anything to make him feel that way. This man is insane.

He buries his face into your neck again and you can’t help but relish in the feeling of his warmth melting into you, his hands roaming all over your body, his fingers gripping your hips, your waist, your arms, anything.

But a drug? Addictive? How can he say those words and link them to love? Has he grown that attached to them?

“No.. no, Satoru. Don’t you dare refer to me as something that’s killing you.” You say, your eyes glancing down at him with furrowed brows as nuzzles into your neck, but he chuckles. The vibration of it going right to your core.

What is happening right now. What is happening.

“My sweet girl.. you are killing me.” He mumbles against your skin, “You’re killing me as we speak, destroying me when you keep denying your feelings for me that I can so obviously see, you keep denying yourself.”

“.. What?”

“You heard me. You're driving me crazy, making me feel insane, desperate...addicted, don't you get it? You're consuming my mind. You’re making me go fucking insane, got me acing like a desperate pathetic fool.”

You stare at him, confusion and shock running through your blood and displayed on your face. You can’t seem to understand anything right now, can’t even process his words properly.

“I don’t understand you-“

His hold on your hip tightens, your bodies flushed against each other as he lifts his head to meet your eyes again, “You honestly don't understand? you don't get it? You're killing me, you're driving me insane, making me want to lose my damn mind...you're doing things to me that nobody's ever done before, you're making me feel things that I never knew existed.”

“Satoru stop, just get out.” You don’t want a love confession, you won’t even be able to handle it or respond.

He needs to leave.

“Don’t tell me to get out.” He says, his teeth gritting as he speaks.

“Satoru I don’t have feelings for you and the contract-“

“To hell with the damn contract! Stop mentioning that thing.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t care about the contract y/n. I don’t.”

“Well I care.”

“Well I'm tired of listening to you going on about that contract all the time. I've said I don't care about it, why can't you just listen to me? The more you mention it, the more irritated I get, I don't want to hear it, I don't want anymore talk about the contract when all I want is you.” He says, his eyes turning from frustrated to pained.

“How is all this just.. just so casual to you? Everything we do, how is it all fake to you?”

“Satoru-“

“Y/n you’re driving me insane. You’re killing me.”

“Don’t say that, you don’t mean that, you’re too drugged to think straight-“

“You're turning me into a desperate, pathetic fool.”

You don’t respond, staring at him in confusion and irritation, his face so close to yours it’s almost making it difficult to breathe.

"Do you want to know why I overdosed? The real reason?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Guess why I overdosed, really.”

“What? Why do I need to guess that?”

“Because you’ve made me fucking desperate, so guess why I overdosed.”

You stare at him, lips parted, brows furrowed and widened eyes filled with concern as you breathe heavily at his tightened grip and close proximity. “Stop it.”

“No...no I won't stop. I want you to hear this, and I want you to realise how much of a grip you have on me, how much you're affecting me. So tell me, guess why I overdosed earlier. Go on.”

Is he trying to torture you?

You don’t want to guess, don’t want to think anymore.

His words linking to his overdose. He can’t be serious.

How much you affect him? You’re driving him insane? You’re killing him? A week within knowing each other?

Is he crazy?!

You exhale as you look down, not wanting to answer his question. Because of you?

How does that make sense? Your chest tightens and clenches at the thought. He can not be serious. None of this makes sense.

“Stop it, Satoru. You’re not making any sense..”

He tilts his head, his eyes locked onto you and you can feel his gaze just burning and lasering into you, his body still pinning you against the wall.

“No I won't stop, I can't stop. I'm done holding back, I want you to see… I want you to know how crazy I am for you. So tell me, tell me why I overdosed.”

You can feel your eyes brim with tears at his words, your brows stuck in their knit of irritation and concern. Your heart feels so.. so tight, like as if the bones in your body are wrapping around the organ.

No..

You can’t possibly have this effect on him. It doesn’t make sense. It’s too much.

Too much for just a week.

He grabs your chin tightly, making you look up and forcing you to meet his gaze again, “Don't look away from me, look me in the eye when you answer me.”

This is Satoru?

Slowly, his head leans closer, the skin of his forehead pressing against yours with gentle ease, his eyes piercing down into yours and your breath quickens.

“Say it...say it out loud why I overdosed.” He says quietly, clear for you to hear but almost a desperate whisper, “Say that I overdosed because of you...say it.”

Oh my god.

Your breath hitches as he answers it clearly for you. The bottom of your lip and hands trembling in complete terror.

“No.. no you didn’t.” And before you even know it, your eyes are burning and tear filled with a combination of confusion, horror and sadness as you turn your head away from him, staring at your bedroom door instead of him. Too afraid to meet those blue eyes of his.

How could he do such a thing over you? This man is insane.

Why would he even tell you that? To prove his damn insanity of love to you??

“Don't look away from me.. don’t you dare look away from me.” His hand is gentle as he places it onto the skin of your cheek, forcing you with ease to turn and look back at his face as you tremble, yet his voice is firm, his words are terrifying. "Look me in the eye and tell me why I overdosed. Now. I want to hear it from your lips, want you to know how mad you have me for you that you just can’t seem to grasp. The things you do to me y/n.. it’s all so new to me.”

“Satoru.. What..? Why would you even..?” You can’t even form a proper sentence, your entire body trembling at the thought of it as your tears remain stuck in your eyelids and scorch against the edge.

Why would he do such a thing over you?

Does that mean you could’ve been the reason for his death?

What is wrong with him?

This isn’t the same Satoru you knew a few days ago, in fact, this isn’t even the same Satoru you knew a day ago.

“Please.. say it. Tell me why I overdosed, just say it.” He whispers, his fingers gently caressing your cheek causing the goosebumps on your arms to expand, your body feeling limp under his touch, yet his revelation is anything but gentle. “I feel like I’ve gone completely insane because of you.”

You don’t understand anything, your mind is a mess around him.

Why does he want you to say it so badly?

You shake your head in disbelief, quiet choked cries escaping your lips as he leans closer, his nose brushing against the side of yours, stopping you from looking away from him.

“Say the words..say the reason why I overdosed. Come on sweetheart, tell me.”

You slap him without thinking, again as you choke out with widened, horror filled eyes, “Why the fuck would you do something like that because of me?!”

He looks back at you with his own widened eyes the moment you slap him across the face and just stands there for a moment.

What does he expect to get out of this??

“You seem to really like slapping me, huh?” He says as his hand reaches up to his now faintly red cheek, his eyes still fixated on yours.

“You really don't get it? You really don't realise why I ended up doing that?” He shakes his head as if he can't believe you, as if you’d be happy about this.

“I was so fucking angry at myself for arguing with you. So... so angry. You just wanted to help my damn issue and I was pushing you away because I was scared of hurting you. I felt so pathetic. I thought you'd hate me, and that thought made me go insane y/n. Youre making me go insane and I can't control these fucking feelings. I don’t want to hold them back or ignore them anymore.”

It's as if your thought process just freezes, you can’t process anything.

“It's been.. a week.. Satoru. A week of us knowing each other..” You exhale quietly, completely in disbelief.

“I know it's been a week! I know that, you don't think I've been telling myself that?” His fingers tangle with your hair at the back of your scalp, caressing you with such gentleness it’s almost terrifying, yet it makes you shiver, it makes your body feel even more limp, it leaves you wanting more, more of his touch.

What is happening.

“I've been reminding myself that you're right, that it's been a week, that I can't possibly have these feelings for someone I just met...but then I remember it's you...and I can't help but lose my mind. I'm going insane right now.”

He tightens his grip on your hair, pulling you so close to his face you can almost memorise the pattern of his breaths. His other hand on your hip pulls you flush against his body and it’s like your hearts are knocking on each other's doors.

“I know it's not normal to feel like this about someone I just met, but I do. I don't care if it's been a week, my heart aches for you, my mind is filled with nothing other than thoughts of you. It drives me mad y/n.”

“You’re so intense.. Oh my god, you’re insane Satoru.” You know, it sounds awful to say, to call someone insane when they’re confessing their feelings to you.

But it’s been a week.

Maybe you’d understand if a month passed by, but a week?

You can feel your breaths growing heavier with each passing second. The air grows thicker, each inhale and exhale becoming more pronounced. Your chest rises and falls noticeably and you can’t seem to regulate it again to go back to normal.

His blue eyes remain locked onto yours, unwavering, and the proximity only makes your heart race faster. You try to steady yourself but the intensity of the moment leaves you breathless, your breathing betraying your composure.

He lets out a strangled scoff at your words, “I know that! I fucking know that! Why else do u think I got so mad at you for trying to help? or how I'd get so defensive around you when you'd bring up my addiction? I'm a fucking addict y/n.”

“That’s not what I meant, not at all. I didn't mean you’re insane because you’re an addict.” Your voice is cracking now, you tighten your lips, inhale heavily and speak through a broken tone, “Oh god.. Satoru.. How could you overdose over an argument we had?” Your arms wrap around his neck, holding him close by the head against your neck as you tremble.

He’s the one who started the damn argument so why would he even..? And you weren’t even mad at him?

“Oh sweetheart, what don’t you understand?” He breathes into your neck, “I think of you constantly, all the time. You're the reason I'm losing my mind. After the small argument we had, it was all I could think about during practice and I was so damn angry at myself for talking to you like that.”

You feel him nuzzle into you, you hear him inhale your scent, you feel him relax into your touch, you have to hold yourself back from caressing and massaging his scalp.

He wraps his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you closer to him, as if his body needs to feel every part of you, “And not just today, since the day I found out I’d be in this “relationship” with you, Always. And I didn’t know why, because it felt stupid when I didn’t even know you, but I’m so fucking attracted to you. I was attracted to you when I saw you at that celebration party we held too, always. You’ve always been on my mind.”

The celebration party? That was so many months ago.

But you still can’t get the idea of him overdosing because of an argument with you out of your mind.

Why the hell would he tell you that?

Why does it make you so angry? So pained at the thought?

“God, you’re so insane.. Why the hell would you..”

He lifts his head from your neck, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and deep pain, “Yes! Yes I am insane! I'm obsessed with you, I'm a pathetic mess because of you. But I don't care. I don't care that I'm insane, and I'm going to keep being insane because of you. You're so deep inside me and I can't control it.”

“You’ve only known me for a damn week, Satoru! You’re moving so fast you need to relax-“

But he cuts you off, frustration and desperation clear in his gaze and evident in his voice, “I already told you I know it's only been a week! I don't care about how much time has passed. I don't care that it's only been a week. Don't you get it? The speed at which I've fallen for you doesn't matter. I'm not going to control how I feel. I'm not going to slow down the way I'm feeling just because it's only been a week. I’m not going to hold myself back anymore.”

His long fingers caress the edge of your jawline with so much tender care it only sends more shivers through your veins. Your tremble is constant, each breath coming out heavier and more laboured than the last, the air catching in your throat.

His gaze is desperate, pleading for understanding but your mind is too much in a haze, unable to process anything from the intensity of the moment.

It’s all so overwhelming.

His eyes bore into yours with an urgency that makes your heart race even faster. You’re left speechless, unable to even speak full sentences, your senses overloaded by the closeness of his touch and the desperate emotion in those eyes of his.

“I can't control my feelings when it comes to you, I don't care that it's only been a week. I know I need to slow down, I know it's insane that I feel the way I do after such little time, but I can't control it. I'm already obsessed with you, I'm pathetic. l'm a hopeless mess and that isn't going to change.”

“Well it needs to change, Satoru. We can’t do this-“

“Why can’t we do this? Why can’t I feel this way about you? And I swear to God y/n, don’t you dare bring up that damn contract as an excuse-“

“Yes because of the contract and because it’s been a damn week and a few days of us knowing each other. What's wrong with you!”

“I don't care. I can't control the way I feel about you. My feelings aren't going to change just because we've only known each other for a short time. The moment I met you, it felt like something in me just clicked, and I can't ignore it, I can't stop thinking about you. So why shouldn't I act on it?”

“What clicked? What the hell is making you feel this way towards me?” Because you don’t believe him, really. You can’t seem to believe that he could love you.

He looks down at you, his fingers tracing feather-light patterns on the skin of your neck, causing your thighs to tighten against each other making your breath hitch. And the corner of his lips twitch upwards at the sight.

You had hoped he wouldn’t notice.

He has that effect on you, that effect that makes you crave more.

But you refuse to admit it.

You don’t want to. You don’t want another relationship. You’re fine with just this fake relationship, you’re fine with just friends.

“My sweet girl, I don't know exactly what it was.” He says as he smiles down at you, just slightly, “It was just something about you that I couldn’t ignore. It's something about the way you speak, the way you move, the way you look at me, the way you touch me. Everything about you just draws me in because you’re so damn soothing and mind numbing. It's like something inside me just lit up the moment I met you, and I've been burning for you since that moment. Every time I think about you, your skin, your scent, my heart starts beating so hard, I can't control it. God I'm so addicted to you. So damn addicted. That has to be love.”

Holy fucking shit.

How do you even respond to that? Nobody has ever spoken to you with such intense words ever. It’s too new to you.

Your lips part as you look up at him with wide eyes, your trembling slowly halting, “Youre so.. so intense..”

You feel awful, not being able to respond back the same. Because you don’t love him, you don’t even know your own heart right now.

You don’t know if you love him, but you do crave him. But that’s not love, you’re simply touch deprived.

You don’t think he truly loves you either, your skin? Your scent? So basically your body? Is it because you fucked?

But his words.. they’re so intense and romantic. But then again, he has drugs in his system, you know he does. What if he’s just acting out because of that?

You just don’t know.

Your mind gets so messy when it comes to him.

“Satoru.. I don’t get it. I’m sorry I really don’t. All I can think of is because I had sex with you one time and now you’re just lust filled. What you’re feeling isn’t love, it's just lust.”

He scoffs, “Do you honestly think I only like you because of that? I like you because of you, it's not just because we had sex once. I'm obsessed with you for so many reasons, it's more than just being attracted to your body.”

He pushes you harder against the wall, his body flush against yours, his hands still gripping onto your body, “It's more than just how you look, or how badly I want your body, it's more than that okay? I like you for you, not just because we had sex once, I am obsessed with you for so many reasons. Why can’t you see that?”

“So tell me.. please, tell me.”

Because what do you do when you simply don’t know how to respond to the man standing before you as he looks into your eyes with so much desperate intensity it shocks and confuses you?

What do you do when you feel and believe as if you’re incapable of such love that you simply deny it when you’re receiving it at this moment through a confession by a man you know you’re attracted to, but not in love with?

What do you do when you don’t even know what love truly is because you’ve never really experienced it?

What do you do?

🏷️taglist - @catobsessedlady @xionri @poopooindamouf @hyperfixationwhore @spookysoowpprince @abiiebibie @svgvrvs @minzxec @chuyasthighs0 @k-kkiana @bbysnw @you-always-made-me-blush @lillizard21-blog @luvvmae @juliiizh @fleurdelluna @zoeyflower @meowforluv @tqd4455 @miliondollagirl @norvacaine @prettynai @gojoistic @daughteofaphrodite @reagan707 @ieirieiri @explosivelywuisa @bellsoftheball @mo0nforme @corvid007 @asparkofapricity @gomorlo @pinkkminn

[suguwife]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮. (eleven)

tags: Gojo Satoru x f!reader, kpop idol x influencer, fake dating, 18+ mdni, mentions of drugs/addiction/substance abuse, overdose, angst, some fluff, profanity, hurt/comfort, smau series, written chapter

a/n: the povs in this chapter switch from sator → reader from time to time because they're on a phone call, i didn't know how else to explain what he's doing/feeling so sorry if it's a little confusing, but I tried to make it as easy to understand LOL

- 6.9k wc

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - Gojo Satoru, a top idol, finds himself at the centre of a public scandal after being photographed in a club appearing intoxicated. Rumors of substance abuse quickly circulate, causing fans and the public to question his reliability and professionalism. Due to severe backlash, his PR team proposes a fake relationship with Y/N, a social media influencer renowned for her healthy lifestyle, to salvage his tarnished image, reduce suspicions and trick the public. However, trouble intensifies when he's unable to let go of his addiction. - 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

(previous)

“Hey, Satoru?” You say through the phone, tone laced with worry as you sit up on your bed.

All you can hear on the other end of the phone is his laboured breathing and the rustle of his bedsheets.

Hearing your voice through the phone sends a sensation of relief into his system. He tries to speak, but his voice comes out weak, so weak it’s barely even a whisper, “Yeah.”

You don’t know what’s happening, you don’t know if he’s having some sort of panic attack or if he’s overdosed, but you know how to regulate breathing. And you need to act quick. “Follow my steps, okay? I want you to sit or lay down in a comfortable position. If you can’t sit up then lay down, whichever position is more comfortable.” You keep your voice as calm but firm as possible, not wanting to worsen his situation any further.

You don’t know what’s happening to him right now, but his breathing is slow.. too slow. It’s scaring you.

He sits up for a moment, but the room starts to spin and he's overcome with a wave of nausea. Laying back down on his bed, he sprawls out on his back “Can't... sit up. Lay..in’.. dow…”

There it is. His speech is slurred, struggling to form coherent sentences. Raspy and breathless.

He’s overdosed, you can hear it through his tone and how much it breaks your heart. Silent tears stinging across the edge of your skin around your eyes as you bite your lip down in worry.

Why does it hurt you so much? You barely know this man. But fuck. Fuck it kills you to see him hurting like this.

You were raised to be so kind hearted and caring, all it’s ever done is bring you pain as you absorb it from everyone else.

The world spins around him, taunting him for his recklessly stupid actions so he closes his eyes in an attempt to block the mock of the world.

“Okay.” You keep your tone firm and clear, hiding any signs of the tears falling.

Is it embarrassing to cry and hurt for a man you barely know? A man you met a week ago?

“Now I want you to place one hand on your chest and the other on your abdomen.”

He follows your instructions, resting one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach. He can feel his heart hammering against the palm of his hand, and his breaths come out shallow and slow. “Mh..”

He hates himself for this.

Hates himself for arguing with you before, telling you that he’s in control. But he’s not, he never is. That addicted part in his mind is in control, it wires him.

“Slowly inhale through your nose, ensuring that your abdomen rises more than your chest. just focus on your breathing and my voice okay? Follow my breathing. Inhale…”

Trying to focus on your voice and your instructions, taking in a shaky inhale through his nose, pushing his abdomen up to rise as he does so. He tries to stay focused, listening to your instructions and the sound of your breath, his thoughts slowly numbing with the sound of your voice.

Your sweet voice.

“Now let your abdomen fall back, exhale through your mouth this time, keep it slow and exhale longer than your inhalation.”

“Now again, same steps, okay? Inhale through your nose slowly and lift your abdomen..one.. two..”

He takes another slow but shuddered inhalation through his nose, feeling his abdomen rise with the movement. It's difficult to focus on maintaining a steady breathing pattern whilst his heart is racing along with a spinning vision any time his eyelids flutter open slightly, but he tries his best to follow your instructions, seeking help through your voice.

This is new for him. He's never asked for help like this.

He would never call Shoko or Geto when issues like this would happen. He’d just let himself go through the pain for a little while until he collapsed and would wake up hours later.

He wanted to feel the pain of his own actions, wanted to let his body punish itself for his stupid addiction that he can’t seem to get rid of.

Why is he seeking help through you now?

Why does he seek comfort in you?

Why is he hurting you?

But it’s your voice, oh your sweet and soothing voice. It feels like he’s on cloud nine hearing you through the speaker next to his ear. The high and the numbing combination of the drugs making your sweet soft tone sound so.. so beautiful to him. So calming.

And it’s you, you as a person. How kind-hearted of a woman you are to him. He had expected you to be repulsed by him, disgusted and angry when he’d opened up. But you weren’t.

Well, you were slightly angry. But more in a… comforting way. He doesn't know why.

Shoko gets angry at him too, but you’re different. Somehow. Maybe it’s just your beauty, or how you both clicked straight away.

You keep trying to help him, you don’t give up. You keep questioning him out of care, never giving up, and it makes you all the more beautiful to him.

Somehow, you calm the anxious racing thoughts that bite at his skull. He hadn’t realised until you left his car after the date. His mind was calm with you, no thoughts of trouble, just you.

But his body isn’t calm right now, his heart isn’t calm.

He can feel his chest rising and falling with each breath, his heart still pounding against his bones, but he tries to focus on his breathing like you tell him to and your voice providing him something to hold onto, something to ground him from his own actions of overdosing.

“Exhale through your mouth slowly, letting your body fall back.. longer and hold it.. one.. two.. three..four..”

“Now again, inhale through your nose..”

He nods, even though you can't see him, and takes another slow, unsteady inhale through his nose, his breath ragged and laboured. Despite the tremble and tightness in his chest, he manages to follow your instructions, his body beginning to feel a little calmer with each passing second.

But he’s glad you can’t see him, you would definitely be repulsed by him if you saw him in this state with your own two eyes.

He doesn't want you to be repulsed by him, but he keeps signalling you reasons to be. He keeps signalling warnings that you keep ignoring.

“And out again..”

He exhales slowly through his mouth, letting out a long, shaky breath. His heart is still hammering roughly against the bones and flesh of his chest, but he can feel some of the tightness easing up, his breath moving from slow to a little more steady.

“Is it still bad?”

The room is still spinning, his mind still fuzzy, but his breathing is more steady than before.

“Little... still dizzy.”

“Do you have any water near you? Close by?”

“Yeah..”

“Can your hand reach it without moving too much?”

His arm stretches for the glass of half-filled water on his bedside table, his hand trembling as he does so. “Yeah.”

“Okay, try to lift your head slightly and take a sip.”

He fumbles with the glass, but it shatters onto the floor, his own weak state mocking him. He doesn't have the energy to pick it up, instead just laying there, fuzzy and unstable, his eyes too exhausted to stay open.

The sound of glass hitting the floor echoes through the phone, making you flinch your head away, but you remain calm, for him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, just lay down. We’ll carry on with the breathing.”

“Mh…sorry.”

“It’s fine, inhale through your nose again, hand on chest and the other on your abdomen. And I also want you to focus on one item in the room, can you find anything?”

He wasn’t apologising for breaking the glass, he doesn’t care about the glass. He’s apologising to you, for making you deal with his mess. He doesn't want to do this to you, but he is.

He does as you say, inhaling slowly and deeply through his nose, placing one hand on his chest and the other on his abdomen. He tries to focus on his breathing, forcing himself to breathe steadily. As for focusing on an item in the room, he looks around, quickly spotting a large plant in the corner.

He stares at the plant, his eyes fixated on the wide surface of the green leaves that hang off it. The dizzying sensation still hasn't fully left, but the plant helps him to ground himself, to focus on something other than the spinning room.

“Exhale through your mouth.. lowering your abdomen..”

He lets out a slow exhale through his mouth, his body relaxing a little as he lowers his abdomen.

“Let's keep doing that, okay? Breathe with me. Inhale…”

You didn’t care how long it’d take to get his breathing regulated again, to get his mind back to normal. You were scared. You were so scared. What if he just.. stops breathing? What do you do then?

He nods, taking another deep breath in through his nose. The process is a bit easier this time, his mind a bit less foggy and his heart rate beginning to regulate back to normal just a little.

“Exhale…..”

“Inhale… one...”

“Exhale slowly... one…two..”

He exhales through his mouth, the air leaving his lungs in a slow, shaky breath. Feeling a little more steady, the dizziness gradually fades away as he focuses on his breathing and your soothing voice through the speaker.

You continue to lead him through his breaths, in and out, in and out.

In and out.

You can only think, how much more will this happen? Will it ever happen again? You’re a week into this fake relationship, and you’re already dealing with the effects of his overdose.

What else would happen? It's cracking your heart, bit by bit.

And you don’t know why. You really don’t know why you care this much.

You can tell yourself it’s love.. but it’s not. You really don’t know this man. It’s more out of care and sympathy, so why does it make you cry? Why does it make you overthink? Why do you stress over him?

Through your instructions, his rotating mind begins to clear, the world not spinning as much and the tremble of his hands beginning to subside.

“Again..” You say quietly through the phone.

The process is becoming a little easier now, his mind clearing up a more, his heart rate nearing its normal beat.

He lets out a shaky exhale, closing his eyes for a moment and just focusing on his breathing. The room is no longer spinning, his chest no longer feels tight, there’s no hammers against his head or chest, his hands are no longer trembling, mind no longer fuzzy and numb.

He feels a lot calmer now, the breathing exercises starting to have a noticeable effect on his body and mind.

All thanks to you.

“Better?”

“Yeah.. better.. a lot better.”

“That’s good.”

“Thank you.. for your help. Thanks a lot.”

“It’s okay.” It’s not. “I told you I’d still be here when you’re struggling didn’t I?” And you always would be.

He nods, a small smile on his face as he looks up to the ceiling even in his current state. In all honesty, he can't believe you still stuck around after he argued with you earlier, but he's also more grateful than ever that you did.

“Yeah... yeah you did.”

“What happened?” You ask. You have to. And all you can do is pray he doesn’t give any bullshit lies to not worry you. You want to worry. You want the truth. You want to know all his imperfections inside and out. You don’t have the right to, not right now at least, you know that.

But how can you help him if you don’t know his issues properly?

You don’t hear him. He’s quiet. Probably making up an excuse or holding back whatever it is that he did. You know he’s overdosed, you can tell, it was obvious.

You just wanted to see if he’d lie to you or not.

“Satoru?”

“I took something.”

“What did you take?” You fiddle with your fingers as you look down, sitting up on your bed, knees crisscrossed, anxious for his answer.

“Something.”

“Yes, but what?”

He doesn't respond again, the only sound coming through the phone being his now stable and soft breathing. It’s almost as if he’s sat right next to you.

He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh as he mentally prepares himself to tell you, “15 mg xanax. There, I told you.”

“What?” You quickly put him on speaker and move your phone away from your ear as you type up on your phone the dosage intake and its effects.

Fuck.

‘Highly dangerous and far exceeds the typical prescribed dose.’

His eyes squeeze shut, bracing himself for whatever you’ll say. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Just.. just xanax?”

He pauses, knowing that you won't take the next part too well. But he'd rather tell the truth than try and dodge any further questions, he'd rather tell you than try to lie about it. There's no escaping you anyway.

“You sure you want to know?”

“Yes.”

“..”

“Speak.”

“I snorted some heroin too.”

A heavy, tired exhale escapes your throat as you fall back into your mattress, fingers raking through your hair in distress and frustration, sitting in silence as you think.

This man said a couple hours ago “I’m in control.” But you know he’s not, you just wish he wouldn’t lie to himself about this.

He said, “I can handle it on my own.” But he can’t. He needed you to regulate his breathing. Needed you to prevent him from near unconsciousness, possibly even near death.

Silent, quiet tears prick your eyes again and you rub away the itchiness of them before you speak again.

“You could’ve died, you know. Your breathing was so unstable.”

His usual dry bitter laugh runs through the phone to your ear. His laugh is too bitter of a sound to even resemble true laughter. “I wasn’t going to die…”

He knows the statement is a complete lie. He'd been struggling to even sit up properly when he'd tried to call you, let alone form a coherent sentence when you answered. In all honesty, he probably would've passed out if you hadn't helped him.

“Has it happened before?”

“…Yeah.”

“And how did you manage to stay alive?”

“Luck, mostly.” He laughs as he speaks.

Why does he always laugh when talking about his issues? Why? Why does he brush it off as a joke?

“You helped yourself or did you just wake up again after passing out?”

“Both.. sorta. I don’t know. I forgot.” A sigh coming through from the other side, a shameful sigh. Shame at himself for seeking comfort through drugs.

Everything is still again, the only sound being the heavy breaths of the both of you.

“I'm sorry about before. I shouldn't have texted you like that or been so frustrated at you. I said shit I didn't mean. I know you just want to help. I'm sorry for being an ass to you y/n, really.” He really does feel bad. He knows he should've never even called you in the first place when he's like this, that it's not fair on you, it’s selfish.

He sighs again, burying his face in his hands for a moment. The drugs having dulled his mind from everything else but the guilt and shame, cutting deep wounds into his flesh.

“I know. Just don't lie to me. Saying you have everything under control then ending up being a mess.” You pause, inhale, carry on. “Stop lying and contradicting yourself. Stop thinking I see you as some charity case.. That's not the truth. You worry me, Satoru, and I care about you as a friend.”

Tears are rolling down your skin now as you both stay silent on the phone, your mind heavy with a migraine, but you keep quiet, not wanting him to hear your own weak sounds.

Deep down, he knows what you're saying is true.

He can't expect you to not worry or care when you know his issues. It’s stupid of him to even question you, but he does it anyway.

Even with the drugs messing with his head, he can't disagree with you. He does make a mess of things, he does say he has everything together when he's falling apart, he does always try and pretend he's okay even when he's struggling.

But he can’t help it, it’s how he was raised.

It’s how he’s wired his brain to deal with everything.

A sniffle through the phone lays inside his ear, the realisation hitting him like a ton of bricks. You're upset, you're crying, and it's all because of him. Guilt stabs at him.

This is why he had been trying to push you away through anger.

He doesn’t know you well enough yet, but he knows he doesn’t want to hurt you. Your heart is too kind to be broken by him. He feels unworthy of your kindness, aware that no help will work because, deep down, he doesn't want it. His mind clings stubbornly to the numbing euphoria of his drugs, rendering him unable to function without them.

Your voice comes out quiet, a little croaky from the tears, “Are you just not going to answer anything I said?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

..

You brush your hand over your eyes painfully hard, pushing down on your eye sockets to wipe the tears away.

It's quiet again.

He wants to say something, wants to apologise, to make things better somehow. but the words get stuck in his throat. He knows he has no excuse for anything he's done, and he's unsure how to make things better.

“Do I just end the phone call?”

The thought of that alone scares him. He doesn't want you to hang up. The thought of you being mad at him, the thought of you leaving because he couldn't control himself, is for some reason, unbearable. He wants you to ignore his issues, but he doesn’t. “No... no don't hang up, please.”

His mind and heart are a mess, guilt and shame battling for control in a constant push and pull.

You place your arm tiredly over your forehead as you finally speak after a moment of silence, “Can't u just try? Just try to get a little better? start by only taking less and less every few weeks?” You know he can’t, it’s hard. You know that. But what else can you say?

He's weak. Too weak to face his issues and too weak to deal with them on his own. “I don’t know how to lower it. I take different amounts when I feel like it.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. The reality is a bitter pill to swallow, and he hates that he just can't figure it out on his own, that he hasn't even tried again in so long. “I just take whatever I feel like at the moment... whatever I think will help.”

“I’ll order the sugar tablets for you in a little bit.” It should help, right? People do the same for smoking.

“I can just buy it.”

“But you’re not going to, are you? I told you yesterday about this, did you buy any?” There’s a tone of bitterness within you as you respond back, laying on your side now under your duvet.

“No..I forgot.. too focused on practice for the upcoming tour.”

“I’ll have them for next day delivery to your penthouse, what’s your address again?”

“You don’t have to do that-“

“What’s your address, I forgot.”

“… 57 _____.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“Just try it, see if it works, okay? I know going "cold turkey" doesn't work. So yeah, maybe have your usual morning dosage to ease yourself before practice and the rest of the day. then at night time when the cravings get bad, take a sugar pill instead.”

“Yeah, I’ll try it..”

Silence engulfs the call again, quiet tears still falling down as you bite down on your lip to stop any noises escaping.

“Are you.. are you crying, y/n?”

You don’t respond, stuffing the side of your face into the pillow and staining it with a couple tears. You don’t even know why you’re crying like this.

“You’re crying, aren't you?”

Of course you are, are you supposed to be happy and calm about this?

His heart feels heavy with guilt. He hates knowing that he's the reason behind your tears, and he hates himself for it even more. Hates himself for pulling you close to him.

“I'm sorry. I really am. I don't know how to fix it but I'm sorry for making you cry, please don't cry anymore, I feel terrible-“ He cuts himself off, running a hand roughly through his hair as he tries to keep his composure. Even with the drugs in his system, the weight of guilt and shame is still there.

He hates himself for making you feel this way, for being such a damn mess.

“It’s fine.”

"It's not fine. don't say that. It's my fault you're upset again. Stop being so damn passive towards me."

You scoff out in disbelief, choking out through your tears, “You’re one to fucking talk!”

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“You’re the one who acts like taking drugs is all fine because you ‘apparently’ have it under control when you don't! You’re the one who behaves so passive about it. Then today, when I told you to let me know when you choose to lower your intake, you got pissed at me. Then what? You fucking overdose hours later and struggle to breathe, having to call me!” You exhale heavily, hands itching your hair in distress.

You're too stressed for your own good, but you can't seem to help it. It's as if your body insists on worrying about him, even without a clear reason.

Maybe it's the attraction you feel, but does helping someone in their darkest moments really require justification?

You’ll be with him for nearly a year anyway, you have to care.

He’s not a bad person. He’s not. Maybe that’s why you want to help him, you want to get rid of this poison that suffocates him with addiction. Want to make him into a better person.

Is he right? Are you treating him like a project? But you don’t gain anything from this. Nothing but more pain within you.

His heart sinks with every word, the guilt and shame piling on top of him with each thing you point out. You're absolutely right, and he knows it. You’re able to see through every single facade and front he's put up, no matter how hard he tries to hide it, you always get the truth out of him somehow.

He lets out a soft sigh, the weight of everything you said settling upon his shoulders. It's so, so goddamn heavy. It almost feels suffocating, and he has no idea what to say in response to it all.

“Stop being silent. Answer me.”

“I don't have any excuses for anything I've done. you're right. And I'm so goddamn sorry for putting you through all of this.. This mess of mine.”

“I wish I knew how to help you properly.” Your voice cracks and breaks, weighing with emotion as you mumble into your pillow, silent tears staining the sheets as you do so. What if you end up researching incorrectly to help him? What if you end up being the cause of why he gets worse? You can’t help but think, will you ever truly help him with his addiction or will you only be able to fix his image?

You don’t want to do that, you don’t want to just fix his fake appearance to the public. You want to help him as a person.

“No, you've helped more than you think. You really have, and I wish you didn’t have to.”

“I have?”

“Yeah, you have, sweetheart. You’ve put up with so much of my bullshit only a week into this ‘fake relationship’ even though I’ve given you so many reasons not to.”

“I kind of did have to though. It’s a small part of the contract. And I have to because… well I just have to.”

He lets out a soft, bitter laugh. Even if you'd been obligated to by the contract, he still considers himself beyond lucky to have someone as caring and as sweet as you. Sure, he hadn't been the best person at expressing his gratitude, but he knew that even though it was technically part of your job, no one else would've done it.

“Only a small part of the contract. Still more than what was required.”

“Will you take my advice? The sugar tablet thing?”

“I’ll try it.”

“You’ll call me again when you’re struggling?”

He's quiet for a moment, thinking it over. Part of him wants to say no, that he can do it on his own. but deep down, he knows that he probably will need to reach out from time to time, hurting you in the process.

He doesn’t want to hurt you. But he does want you to be there for him.

“I will but, won’t you mind or find it annoying?”

“I don’t mind.”

“But you’re cry-“

You cut him off, speaking firmly before he can finish his sentence. “I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure you won’t mind? Even if it’s late at night?”

“I won’t mind, Satoru. Not one bit.”

Oh god, the way you say his name, the way it rolls off your tongue so perfectly makes his cock pulse, just a little. A little thump of attraction causing his body to tense up as his eyes flutter.

“You promise?” He whispers through the phone.

“I promise. Are you going to promise me that you’ll really try? Seriously promise me?”

He's quiet for a moment again, thinking it over.

He doesn't like being put on the spot, and he doesn't like making promises he's not sure he can keep. “Yes. I'm serious. I promise I'll try my best.” But he doesn't know if he’ll really keep such a promise.

“Okay……” As you trail off you quickly order 3 capsules of sugar tablets to his address, clicking buy. “Okay, the sugar tablets should come by tomorrow around 10am till 11am.”

“You really didn’t have to bother, I could've bought it myself, it's not that hard.”

“But you weren’t going to.”

He’s quiet again, knowing you’re absolutely correct.

His own stubbornness is one of the things that led him here in the first place, and he's not surprised that you're able to call him out on it so easily

“No, I probably wouldn't have. But you really didn’t have to bother.”

“Oh my god I’m going to end this call.”

“Wait! No, okay fine. Fine, thank you.” The words rush out of his mouth before he can stop them. Part of him hates being forced to accept the help, feeling like it makes him pitiful. But part of him wants your pity too, craves your care. Craves the care of a woman who he isn’t just using for hookups.

“...Do you want me to stay on the call?”

He pauses, thoughtfully weighing his response. He dislikes having to unload his troubles on you. Yet, a selfish part of him longs to keep you on the line, to savour every moment of your voice for as long as possible. “Stay on the line for a bit longer, please.”

“Okay, I’m here.” You shift in your duvet, snuggling into the warmth of your pillow and blanket as you listen to his breathing. It calms you a little. It’s as if you’re sleeping right next to him.

You don’t mind this.

He lets out a soft exhale, the sound of your voice and your soft breathing nearly making his heart skip a beat. It feels like such a normal, domestic moment, like something that a normal couple would do, and the thought both comforts him and makes him want more.

He lets out a gentle hum, the sound soft and quiet as he speaks, “Thanks for staying, I really appreciate it.”

“Mhm. Are you going to go to sleep now or later?”

“I'm probably gonna stay up a bit longer, not feeling very tired just yet. What about you?”

“Probably soon.. Oh I forgot to tell you. We have a Buzzfeed interview Thursday, Jimmy Fallon show on Friday, did your manager tell you?”

“Oh.. shit. Yeah he told me.”

“You forgot?”

“No I didn’t forget.. just hate interviews sometimes. They ask too much.”

You giggle tiredly into the phone, making him smile tiredly as he closes his eyes, melting the sound of your soft and warm laughter into his brain, scared he’ll forget it.

You both talk about a couple of easy lies to get through for the interview, that you both met each other a year ago, that Satoru made the first move etc etc.

“Hey.. can you talk to me for a little longer? Stay on the phone?”

“.. Still not tired?”

He hesitates at the question, hating having to admit it. But he decides to be honest with you, telling you the truth. "No, I can't.”

“Have you got insomnia or something?”

“Yeah.. sorry.”

“No, it's fine, don't apologise. We can stay on the line a little longer.”

“You sure? You don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow? I don’t want to be a bother when you want to sleep.”

You giggle softly through the phone again, his heart fluttering in response. “I’ll probably fall asleep whilst you talk later on, but not yet.”

He lets out a soft exhale, half laughing at the thought, "As long as I can keep talking to you, I don't mind if you fall asleep.”

“You need to sleep too.. Don’t you have any sleeping pills? You have all these drugs but nothing to help you sleep?”

“I do.. I just.. don’t want to take it right now.”

“Why not?”

“.. I like the feeling.”

Is he crazy? “Of what? Your body struggling? You like the side effects of the drugs you take?”

He's quiet at that, the realisation making him flinch. It's an uncomfortable thought. “Yeah, I guess.”

There’s silence over the phone again as you try to process his mind. Is he addicted to the struggle?

“Why do you care so damn much?”

Oh god, he’s back at it again. Defensive Satoru.

“Are you seriously asking this fucking question, again?” You're more irritated now, what doesn’t he get? Why can’t you care? It’s not a crime.

"Yeah... Yeah I'm asking that question again, because I honestly don't get it. Why do you bother helping me more than you need to?"

“I don't know!”

He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. He doesn't get it, he doesn't understand why you go so far out of your way to help him, a stubborn idiot who can't look after himself.

“That doesn't sound like a good enough answer.”

“Then I'll end the phone call.” And you really are about to hit that big red button.

Panic seizes him as he speaks up, "Wait, no, I'm sorry. don't go, please..I'm serious, I'll stop asking, just please... please don't hang up, just stay on the line for a bit longer.” He's practically rambling now, the thought of you hanging up making his gut twist painfully and you feel bad but you can’t help but muffle your giggle into the pillow. Such a desperate man at the age of 28 begging for you to stay on the line.

“Did you just laugh?”

“You sound so funny when you beg like that.”

“I’m not begging.. just telling you to stay on the phone.”

“Mhm..” Begging.

“God, you’re insufferable.” But he's smiling again at you, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering at the sound of your voice.

“You’re one to talk.” You scoff out sarcastically with a smile.

“Yeah..” He sighs, “I guess that’s fair.”

It's silent for a moment again until he speaks up, "Uh... Are you sure I'm not keeping you up? If I'm bothering you, you can just... hang up.”

Wasn’t he just begging you not to? “We can stay on the phone.” Because some part of you still wants to, you still want to hear his voice, still want to hear his breathing, steady.

Not slow, steady.

"Yeah? You don't mind if I keep you on the phone for a bit longer?" He turns to sleep on his side, the back of his hand pressing against his cheek as he rests and smiles.

“I don't mind, you can keep talking if it eases your mind, but I might not respond properly... tired, you know?”

He lets out a soft laugh, amused at your sleepy voice over the phone. “Really? You don’t mind at all?”

He keeps seeking confirmation from you, over and over. Keeps seeking reassurance, over and over, as if he’s not sure about anything.

He really has never seeked help before from anyone, too uneased by the thought. It wrenches your heart, the thought of him never looking for support in others unless they provide it to him. The image of him pushing Shoko and Geto away like he said he did, the thought of him and Shoko arguing about his addiction.

He’s been too scared to show others his weaknesses, but he’s not with you. At least you hope he isn’t.

He’s asking you, seeking confirmation.

“Really. You like talking, don’t you? Chatterbox.”

A soft chuckle leaves his throat again as he shifts on his bed to get more comfortable. Talking to you on the phone has helped clear his mind once again. “Won’t my voice keep you up?"

“No.. I can sleep to your voice.”

“Really? My voice doesn’t annoy you?”

“Sometimes yeah, but you’re talking quietly now.” His voice sounds more calm, a slight whisper, a little deep but still with that slight raspy and confident croak. You could describe how his voice sounds for hours if you were asked.

“Yeah, yeah don't get too used to it though. I'm sure I'll start being obnoxious soon enough.”

And you laugh again, muffling it slightly into your pillow as you shift once more in your blankets.

Even when you're tired, he still finds you so goddamn endearing. “You comfy enough over there?”

“Why? You want to help me get more comf-“ You cut yourself off, realising how intimately sexual that sounds. God you’re such an idiot, it just slipped out really. But did it though?

You hear him choke on nothing but the air surrounding him, oops..?

He flushes bright red, laying on his back as he stares tiredly at his ceiling and he’s so glad you can’t see his face right now.

His mind wanders to all sorts at the implication, remembering the feeling of being inside your warm, wet walls in his car yesterday night. The sensation of your saliva on his cock, the way he fucked you deep into your throat, the sounds of your moans and whines, the scratch of your nails against his skin. Your skin was so soft near him, and he's suddenly craving for that again.

Craving for the smooth coolness of your skin as if you're his drug. It's all coming back to him just from one little joke of yours.

But it didn’t mean anything to you, you confirmed that. He just has to accept it and make himself believe it was meaningless to him too.

He clears his throat awkwardly as his body heats up at the reminder of you, "Uh, no reason. I'm just... just asking. But I mean, if you do need help or something.... I could... uhh-"

“Oh shut up. I didn't mean that... oh my god... it just came out..”

“I mean I could-“

“No.”

“Right.. yeah.”

You rub your palm over your face at annoyance with yourself, how could you say such a thing knowing how unserious and flirty he can be?

It’s quiet again, awkwardness filling the phone call until he speaks once more.

“It's just a good thing we’re on the phone and not in person.”

What does he mean by that? This idiot. “We’re not having sex again.”

He chokes again, flushing at the blunt way you say it, the way you immediately shut him down, "I wasn't suggesting it..”

You so badly wanted to laugh out loud at him playing it off, it’s too funny, he’s too obvious. “You literally did.”

He goes silent at that, caught off guard and embarrassed now. He can't deny it, and he doesn't know what to say. He tries to change the subject quickly before he digs the hole any deeper. "So uh... you... you getting tired yet?"

Nice way to change the subject, Satoru.

“My legs are killing me... like my bones hurt and my head hurts too..”

“Why does it hurt?”

You don't want to tell him about your disease. Nobody knows, not even your manager. Only Utahime knows.

It'll ruin your image of a healthy influencer. It’s awful of you, really. He tells you almost everything about his issues when you ask.. but you have to lie to him for your own sake.

“I don't know...”

“I can find a painkiller or something for you if there's a pharmacy still open.”

Why would he do that? It’s almost 12am.

You give a weary chuckle, “No it’s okay, I already took one and you’re not coming to my place just for a pill so late at night.”

“I totally would come.”

You laugh again, rolling your eyes with sarcasm, “Oh, and you going to give me a massage too?”

“I.. uh…” He stutters, and you just know his mind is going to inappropriate places again. Idiot.

“Tch, stop taking everything so weirdly!”

“Well I can’t help it. My mind just.. goes there.”

“Yeah because you’re a dog.”

“Uh, no.” He says firmly with a tone of sass, “No I’m not. I’m not some perv.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He huffs again in annoyance like a child, “I’m not! I’ve got control of my mind. I’m not some lustful idiot..”

“Yeah… sure.” You say with a chuckle, turning your head to look up at the ceiling as you laugh.

He groans by how much you keep teasing him. "I'm serious. I've got control over my own thoughts y/n.”

…

Your smile falters a little from his words, he said the same thing about his drug usage, and what happened after that? "I might go to sleep soon.” You murmur quietly, “You can keep talking though.”

"Yeah... yeah, okay.” He knows you're getting tired and should be going to sleep, but he doesn't want to let you go.

Your mind is pulsing, gnawing and scratching against your skull, your legs feel as if they weigh 10x heavier, as if an anvil is pushing them down.

You shift on your bed multiple times from uncomfort, breathing slightly heavily.

“Does it hurt that bad?” He asks softly, his voice laced with concern rather than mockery.

“They fucking kill..my legs especially” You groan into your pillow, moving around once more with a creak of the bed.

His frown deepens, worry growing within him, “I thought you said you already took a painkiller?”

“I did.. Shits not fucking working.”

A sense of helplessness overtakes him. Your discomfort and pain itches him to go to you and try to relieve you somehow the same way you do to him, even if it’s just a bit. “So why isn’t it working then, shouldn’t it make the pain go away?”

You furrow your brows, stretching your body out breathing heavily from the pain throughout your weakened body, “How the hell would I know..?”

“Right, sorry.. stupid question..” His fingers scratch against his white hair, brows knitted together with agitation for the pain you’re going through. “Is there really nothing to help? Nothing else you can take for your pains?”

“I’ve taken everything already..” you knead your palm into the temple of your forehead, cracking your toes as you curl up into a ball hoping to ease the muscle pain just a little.

He swallows, that feeling of worry increasing and the feeling of uselessness growing, “Nothing works at all?”

“Mh.” You groan with a scrunched face, shifting in your bed once more hoping to find a position that’ll help but nothing is working.

Either your period is coming soon, or your muscles are just weakened, or maybe it’s both.

He lets out a shaky exhale, feeling frustrated and worried all at the same time. He hates the fact that he’s on the phone while you’re in all this pain, hates that he can’t help you without being there for you. You’re able to help him over the phone, but he can’t do the same.

”Shall I come over?”

🏷️taglist - @poopooindamouf @you-always-made-me-blush @xionri @bbysnw @luvvmae @catobsessedlady @spookysoowpprince @pinkkminn @gomorlo @abiiebibie @svgvrvs @minzxec @chuyasthighs0 @k-kkiana @juliiizh @zoeyflower @fleurdelluna @meowforluv @tqd4455 @miliondollagirl @norvacaine @d0nk3y-k0ng @prettynai @gojoistic @daughteofaphrodite @reagan707 @ieirieiri

[suguwife]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮. (eight)

tags: Gojo Satoru x f!reader, kpop idol x influencer, fake dating, 18+ mdni, mentions of drugs/substance abuse/addiction, anxiety, profanity, sexual suggestiveness, slight angst, fluff, smau series

a/n: sorry I KNOWW I said I was going to have the smut scene in this chapter, but I didn’t want to make the wc too long so it’ll be in the next one ;) - not proofread so sorry for any mistakes

-7k wc

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - Gojo Satoru, a top idol, finds himself at the centre of a public scandal after being photographed in a club appearing intoxicated. Rumors of substance abuse quickly circulate, causing fans and the public to question his reliability and professionalism. Due to severe backlash, his PR team proposes a fake relationship with Y/N, a social media influencer renowned for her healthy lifestyle, to salvage his tarnished image, reduce suspicions and trick the public. However, trouble intensifies when he’s unable to let go of his addiction. - 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

(previous)

After exiting your apartment, you walk down the street to the areas cars usually park, turning your head around till you hear a loud honk startling you.

You turn your head to see him through his rolled down window, black suit, white button up shirt, the first couple undone. Fuck he looked so good. Men in suits always turned you on. 

Remain professional y/n..

“Hey.” You say as you walk towards his car, but he’s opening his door and getting out, a wide grin on his face. “Why are you getting out-“

He closes his car door behind him and places his large hand on the small of your back, leading you towards the passenger side of the car, “I just wanted to be polite and open the door for you.”

Oh, cute, you chuckle at that. “No need..” You say quietly, but allow him to proceed anyway. You did always like being pampered and treated. Though you haven’t really received such treatment for years since Naoya’s toxic ass.

He smiles at you as he holds the door open for you, watching you slide into the passenger seat before closing the door. He’s trying not to steal too many glances and stares, trying his best not to focus on the exposed skin of your legs in that dress as he walks around the car to the driver’s side, but fuck, he can feel a boner coming. 

After rounding the car he gets back into his drivers seat and starts the engine, turning the radio on again. Glancing at your figure for a moment out the corner of his eye after putting on his seat belt, his nose inhales the vanilla aroma flowing off your body.

“Strong perfume.” He says as he looks at the road ahead. 

“I can smell yours too.” Oh that manly cologne smell. He really was turning you on, but you can’t show that.

“Yeah, you got a problem with that?” His cocky smirk flashing you as he drives, glancing at you for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. 

You turn your head to him, brows furrowed, “Are you getting an attitude with me? After I gave you cookies twice?” 

His smirk is still on his face as he speaks back, “Me? Attitude? Never..” He says, feigning innocence. “What would I have an attitude about?”

“Wait, are you for real?” Because you’re wondering now, your tone more serious. Is he mad about the fact you reminded him of the contract rules? It’s not like it’s your fault. 

He senses the change in your tone and drops his act, “Nah, I’m just messing with you sweetheart.” 

You stare ahead at the road, the sunset melting into the ground and trees creating a pink and purple wonderland. “Are you annoyed at something?” And you see his fingers tightening on his wheel slightly, it doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Nothing really does.

“What? No. Why would you think I’m annoyed?” There’s a hint of defensiveness in his voice, and you can tell he’s trying to play it off. Why do men do that? Always brushing off their feelings.

“Because you sound cheeky.” Your arms crossing over your chest as you lean back in your seat, speaking as you stare at the road ahead. “You’re not annoyed or anything because I told you the rules about the contract are you? This has to be strictly friends or acquaintances or.. whatever we are.” Because you don’t know what you both are, really.

He flirts so much, but you just act friendly back. But you can’t deny how attractive he is, you can’t deny that you like him, just a little. Do you like him as a friend or more? No idea.

He goes silent for a moment after you call him out, his grip on the steering wheel tightening more as he processes your words. “No, I'm not annoyed. you were just reminding me, that’s fine. I don't mind.” 

You know he’s still bothered but trying to keep his voice casual, so you decide not to press the issue onto him anymore. “Oh right, okay.”

He nods slightly in response, keeping his gaze locked on the road. There's an awkward silence in the air for a moment as he tries to keep his composure while driving. He glances at you for a moment, stealing a quick glance at your figure, that stupid dress is just too distracting…He needs to take his mind off it.

“Oh yeah I got you a little gift, just a thank you for helping me out with this whole.. drug scandal.”

Turning your head to him, your face brightens with a smile under the sunset and illuminating street lamps, “A gift??”

The smile on his face returns as he speaks, “Yeah, it’s nothing big. But I still wanted to get you something as a thank you.”

“Ouu.. when do I get it?”

“I’ll give it to you when we arrive at the restaurant.”

You chuckle softly, “What is it?”

“Why do you want to know? You’ll see when we get there.” God he’s such a tease.

“Why would you tell me you have a gift for me then? Just to tease me? I need to know now.”

He laughs, enjoying the way you’re begging to find out. “I’m not going to tell you, you’ll just have to wait. I promise it’s nothing too big.”

“Fine.” You slouch back in your seat, turning your head back to the road. “How long till we get there?”

“Only fifteen minutes away, shouldn’t be too long.”

“Mhm, okay.”

You can see his eyes on you out of the corner of your own eyes, his gaze slowly trailing over your figure for a moment, releasing a quiet sigh, then forcing his eyes back to the road. 

The car goes over a bump and he looks back down at your legs, your dress riding up slightly exposing your thighs just a little more. Does he think you can’t see?

“You look good by the way.”

You want to giggle and blush but, no. You know how to keep yourself composed. “Thank you.”

And he’s looking you up and down shamelessly with a smirk, “You look really good, not just good, but really.. really good.”

Oh he’s such a dork, it makes him so cute and you can’t help but laugh a little as you say, “You too, Satoru..”

His eyes trail over your figure much longer than it should, not even trying to hide it. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. I like suits.” You look back at the road, stopping yourself from flirting too much, remembering to follow the contract rules.

Strictly. Fake. Dating.

“Really? I’ll keep that in mind.”

Finally, he parks the car and turns to you as we arrive at the destination of the fancy restaurant you chose. “Do I get the gift now or inside?” You say, turning to him too as you smile widely.

He chuckles at the sight of your smile, “We’ll go inside first and then you’ll get it.”

And you giggle as you try to open the door, eager to get that gift, but he keeps the door locked. You turn your head back to him with wide and confused eyes, “Open it?”

“Stupid.. I’m going to open it for you. Also there’s paparazzi over there,” He nods his head to the side, keeping his gaze on me. You glance out the front window, and he’s right. They’re all standing there trying to look discreet but those huge cameras are embarrassingly obvious.

“They’re waiting to bombard us so hang tight yeah?”

He gets out of the car and quickly walks around to your side, opening the door for you. He holds his hand out, offering to help you out of the car as he notices the paparazzi waiting nearby, walking towards you both.

As soon as I take his hand and step out with just one foot, the paparazzi are already flashing their lights and throwing us question after question. How did they know we’d be here? Whatever, publicity I guess. Maybe our managers told them. Maybe someone was stalking us and revealed information.

Gently, he helps you out of the car, keeping his poker face on as the paparazzi start snapping a bunch of photos as he shuts the door behind you. He puts his hand around you, his hand wrapped onto the side of your shoulder as you huddle close to him, subtly guiding you away from the paparazzi and reporters

They call out questions as we walk towards the entrance, cameras and microphones being shoved into our faces, some reporters practically yelling so their voices can be heard over the other reporters. We really should’ve had security prepared for us before we came.

“How did you both meet?!”

“How long have you been together?”

“Gojo, look over here!”

“Are you really an addict or were they just lies?!!”

Invasive much. His grip on your body tightens, wrapping you closer to him as you both ignore them and walk towards the entrance, trying to protect you from the onslaught. He smells so good, so manly.

Your eyes glance down, his hands are.. shaking, yet when you glance up, he’s got a poker face on. It's as if he’s trained himself to learn how to hide his feelings. His knuckles are almost white from squeezing his hands into fists.

Thankfully and finally, two guards at the door push the paparazzi away and we enter the fancy restaurant, at peace.

You both let out a heavy breath as soon as you enter, the silence is relieving. the paparazzi can still be seen outside trying to get a look through the windows.

“Fuck, we shouldve had security prepared for us.” You say as you look out the windows of the building, their snapping pictures through the window. Weirdos.

He looks down at you and chuckles breathlessly, “Yeah, we probably should’ve. I didn’t think they’d find out we were here so quickly, it’s like they have spies everywhere or something.”

As we walk further in he books us a table, and we’re about to sit down in the waiting lounge but he freezes in his steps.

“Oh shit.. shit. I left your gift in the car boot.. fuck.” He groans and facepalms for a moment, “Damn it, I’ll be right back sweetheart, wait here.”

“But the paparazzi-“

He shakes his head quickly, “Don’t worry, I’ll be quick. They won’t bother you, the security will keep them at bay. I promise I’ll be right back.”

“No I meant what about yo-“ He wouldn’t even let you finish a damn sentence.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me sweetheart.” He says through chuckles. He keeps calling you sweetheart. “Just sit down and wait for me, I’ll come back as soon as I get the gift, alright?”

“Okay..” and he smiles at you as your protest finally stops.

“Don’t worry. I swear I’ll be quick.” He pats your shoulder gently before heading back towards the entrance, bracing himself to deal with the paparazzi outside once more.

You were a little worried, they were asking about his drug scandal earlier, how rude can they get??

He exits the building, wanting to head over to his car, the paparazzi immediately surround him but he just ignores them and opens the car boot, grabbing the Cartier gift bag before quickly closing it. the flashing cameras are relentless, and the reporter’s questions are becoming worse.

“Gojo why haven’t you spoken about your drug scandal?”

“Was it real?”

“Were you set up?!”

“How’s your relationship with y/n like?!”

Gritting his teeth, the annoyance and frustration mounts inside him as he forces himself to remain calm and collected. He grips the gift bag tightly in his hand. “No, the drug scandal wasn’t real. That person wasn’t me. My relationship with y/n is perfect.” He states blankly as he gives a cold stare to the reporters.

He doesn’t give anymore answers, the paparazzi clearly trying to get more information out of him, but he’s done answering their stupid questions. He starts walking back to the entrance with the gift bag in his hand, making sure not to look at the paparazzi as he passes by, not wanting to give them the attention they crave.

Finally, he makes it back into the restaurant, breathing a sigh of relief once he’s free from the relentless paparazzi again, he looks around for you. His gaze quickly lands on your figure as he spots you sitting in the lobby.

You turn to him with a smile, standing up to walk to him. His hands are shaking again. You don’t know if it’s because he’s frustrated or if it’s from needing his drugs from the paparazzi. “Hey, you okay? You’re shaking..” and you take his large hand in yours gently, a little worried.

Does he have anxiety? Is that why he takes drugs? He did say it’s to help him relax. Oh god, how badly you wanted to help this poor boy, but you didn’t know where to start. Helping someone with addiction isn’t always going to work if they’re not willing to help themselves.

He swallows hard before he speaks, his Adam’s apple bopping up and back down again, “I’m fine. Just don’t like those damn reporters, they're so annoying.” He speaks fast, his voice strained. He’s trying to brush it off..

“Come on, let's go eat and forget.” You say with a smile as you chuckle softly, and he smiles back at you. You don’t want to keep him anxious, so making him forget about those idiots should help him, maybe. “Our tables are ready and-“ your eyes glance down to the gift bag in his hand, a dark red bag with the words “Cartier” written on, your eyes widening.

“Satoru.. you said the gift was nothing big?”

A sheepish smile finds his face, “This isn’t too big? Just a thank you. Come on, let's go.” And he’s leading you towards the tables.

He pulls out a chair for you at the table ready in the corner of the hall, waiting for you to sit down before taking a seat himself. Then he places the gift bag in front of you.

You don't say anything for a little while, just staring at the gift with a softened smiling gaze. This man really went ahead and spent thousands on you just for a “thank you.”

Well, to him, thousands is nothing when his net worth is ₩140,000,000, but he still spent money on you. That means something to you. A man willing to spend his own earnings and time, to buy you a gift. It's cute.

“Thank you..” you say as you look up at him, “I love gifts.”

He returns your smile with his own, “You’re welcome. Let’s order then you can open it, yeah?”

“Oh- hold on lemme take a quick.. quick picture.” You chuckle awkwardly, you didn’t want to be those type of people who ruin moments by taking pictures, but you needed to take this. One for publicity and to fix his image, and another because.. well it’s a nice memory. “Need to show fans that their idol isn’t an awful drug addict.”

Because he’s not, he’s so much more than that.

Honestly, you really did believe he was an addict when your manager first told you about the whole situation, so you didn’t really mind having the contract sealed without your consent. Although you could’ve taken him to court, you had some sort of butterfly in your mind, telling you that you should help him, somehow. Convincing you that you could. You don’t know anyone with addiction, have zero education on addiction, but you wanted to help him. Maybe it’s just that motherly nature within you. Although, something in your mind is still telling you that he is an addict. You don’t know, you’ll have to see

You thought he’d be a dickhead or annoyed by the situation, but he’s not. From the very first interaction, he’s always been sweet.

He chuckles softly at your comment, rolling his eyes slightly in mock annoyance but plays along, “Oh, of course. Gotta maintain the public image. Go ahead. take the picture then.”

You quickly snap a picture and post it on your instagram story, tagging his name with a heart emoji after.

“Okay let's take a look at the menu..” you say, looking down at the card sheet before you.

After deciding your meals and drinks, he calls over a waitress and places the order, all the while being a little fidgety with his hands and body, you didn’t want to comment on it though, not now.

“Can I just open the gift now?” You were feeling a little restless. I mean, a Cartier bag waiting in front of you, what a tease.

“Sure, go ahead,” he says after a chuckle, “Open it.”

You take out the box inside the bag and a slight gasp escapes you as you look at the Large Gold D’amour Cartier necklace before you.

He watches intently, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of you.. he waits anxiously for your reaction, his breath catching in his throat as he sees the look in your eyes. You’re staring at the gift in silence, and he wants you to say something, feeling a little anxious.

It's so beautiful, so beautiful yet so simply elegant. A small gold chain with a larger circle gem pendant in the middle. You always loved Cartier. When you were younger, more into love and men you always wanted a Cartier love bracelet. It just screamed romance. But you never had a man you wanted to share it with. Especially with Naoya being your only boyfriend in your entire life, that abusive, toxic fuck.

It's as if Satoru knew you’d like Cartier somehow. “I love it, it’s so cute. Thank you so much Satoru.”

He exhales heavily, a smile on his face, that beautiful smile. Sometimes, you wish you both would’ve met under different circumstances, rather than under a contract. You know he feels the same way too.

“You're welcome. I saw it online and thought it would suit you, so I had to buy it.”

“₩3,210,000 as a thank you for fake dating you?” And he laughs in response, always laughing.

“Well, I couldn’t just get you some cheap gift. After all.. the “fake” dating deal is pretty big you know? Plus I just wanted to spoil you a bit.”

Well you did like being spoiled too. Is this a love language or is he just being nice?

“You literally sent me ₩2.4million the other day.”

“Oh come on, don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

“Yeah yeah okay.. I can’t say I want you to stop, so I won’t.” You roll your eyes as you smile and look back at him.

He stands up from his seat, coming behind you and taking the necklace out the box, your head turns as you look at him confused with wide eyes again.

“Turn your head and lift your hair for me.” Okay, bossy. But you do as he says anyways.

His fingers trace brush against your neck, shooting signals down to your core as he clasps the necklace on for you. You feel his hands at the back of your neck, tracing the clasp with his index finger, teasing, or maybe just appreciating his own gift.

He stands back and goes back to his seat in front of you, smiling at the necklace then glancing back up at you.

“Pretty, it does suit you.”

You look away, giggling softly, hand covering your mouth, and you can feel him smiling at you. God he’s making you blush like a high school girl, just like Utahime said.

“You're really cute when you laugh like that.” Fuck, that was so random? You’re sure you’re blushing right now. It’s supposed to be the other way round. When did he get such confidence to flirt with you like this?

“Don't flirt with me Satoru..” you can’t go against the contract rules.

He laughs softly at your response, a playful grin on his face,“Why not? It’s all part of the act, remember? Gotta maintain the fake relationship image.”

Oh he’s such a liar, he’s not acting at all.

You glance around the room, seeing people eye you both from afar, recognising you both.

“Gotta keep it convincing..” he says, looking at you. A slight smirk on his lips, his eyes softening but playful at the same time. Fuck. And that suit he’s in.. the first couple buttons of the shirt unbuttoned revealing more of his pale skin.. oh fuck.

“Then..” and you don’t know what comes over you, it’s like he’s poured alcohol into your system.

From across the table, your delicate fingers find his as you gently take hold of both his hands, smiling at him softly. And you can practically hear his breath catching in his throat at your sudden affection, but his long fingers intertwine with yours too.

Slowly, softly, carefully, his thumb caresses over your knuckles and you look down at our hands, partied lips.

You just let him, keeping your pupils locked on the intimacy of your hands, a sense of tenderness between you both. But it’s all fake, all an act. And you need to keep remembering that, remember the rules.

“You know, you have really large hands.” And he laughs in response, seems like you make him laugh a lot, huh?

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

His hand lifts yours up, gently tracing the lines of your palm with his thumb, his touch feather-light. He grins at you, his gaze shifting from your hand to your face, and you just stare at him wide eyed with parted lips. This is so intimate it’s scary.

“Your hands are so much smaller than mine.” The cage of butterflies within you, being unlocked after so many years. They’re fluttering everywhere.

He holds up his hand next to yours, the difference in size and length of your fingers and palms becoming even more obvious. He chuckles softly, feeling a sense of protectiveness as he looks down at your smaller hand.

“Jesus, your fingers are like two fingers joined together.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty long aren’t they?”

Yeah, they are. Oh the thoughts running in your mind need to shut up.

He spreads out his fingers, showing you just how much longer they are than yours. He grins and playfully wiggles them, “Would you be able to handle them?” A smirk playing on his lips

Your smile falters, you blink, your lips part. There is no way he just said that, so casually, so shamelessly. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just a silly joke.” He keeps that grin on, but it’s more sheepish now, trying to play off his sexual innuendo.

“So, uh, how long are we supposed to keep up the whole “fake relationship” thing anyway?” He says looking down at our hands, his thumb once again rubbing gently over your knuckles.

Nice way to change the topic, Satoru. And his memory really is a little disorientated.. Drugs.

“I told you the other day.. nine months.”

“Right, nine months. Seems like a long time. Doesn’t it?”

“I know, when my manager told me I'd be dating you I thought it’d only be a couple months. Then I read the contract. I guess it’s to reduce suspicions from the public for when we “breakup”.”

Honestly, you didn’t want this to be over. Its barely been two weeks and he’s already felt so nice and comforting to be around. You just hope you’re allowed to stay friends with him once the contract is over.

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” He pauses for a moment, his gaze wandering up to your face as he thinks. You can tell he’s trying to keep his expression neutral, but his eyes give away a hint of disappointment. He focuses down at our intertwined hands once more, his thumb absently tracing circles over your knuckles as he speaks, “But nine months…It’s gonna be pretty hard to keep up the facade for that long.”

“Why?”

“Well you know..” He speaks quietly now, “it’s going to be pretty hard to pretend we’re a couple for so long, especially since..”

You didn’t want to be mean, but you had to say it. “Satoru, don’t tell me you're already getting feelings.” You’re such a hypocrite, you’re sure you’re getting feelings too, you’re just caging them within you.

You see his body stiffen and he lets out a nervous laugh. “What? No, no. Of course not. We barely know each other.”

Right. Cartier gift, sending you money.. You wish you could get rid of the cage within you but you can’t. You need to keep any growing feelings locked within you.

“I’m just saying it’s gonna be a challenge, that’s all. Pretending to be in love with someone for nine months isn’t easy.”

“Sure it is, you’ve acted in a film before.”

He laughs softly, “Yeah, but acting in a film and pretending to be in a relationship for months are two different things.” He pauses. “It’s going to be hard to act all lovey-dovey in public, knowing it’s all just an act.”

“Hm.. well we’re doing it right now aren’t we?” You say, looking down at your hands with a neutral expression, your thumb running over his knuckles now. “Just take it as activities friends do.. that the public see as romantic. Simple. It’s to fix your image after all. ”

“Activities friends do..” he repeats after you, “..that the public see as romantic.”

He glances up at your face and you look back at him. “Gotta fake it till we make it.” He says with a wide grin and you nod and laugh in response.

“Don't you find it fun? It feels like I’m making new friends by doing this for you.”

“Yeah it is.. I guess. It feels like a game, pretending.”

“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t have been caught in that drug scandal, silly.”

He sighs before he speaks, “Yeah, yeah I know. It was stupid of me and I wasn’t thinking straight. You don’t need to fucking remind me.”

Oh, okay. You just look at him sympathetically. Is he mad? He’s got a little sass to him.

One of his hands escapes your grasp on the table, his other hand still intertwined with yours. With his free hand, he runs his hand through his hair as he sighs. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.” He says, “It’s just.. this whole thing is a lot to deal with you know? All the shit online.. the media.. the paparazzi questioning me..”

“It’s fine.. you just.. it just worries me. You worry me.” And you’re right, he does. It’s the truth. Sometimes when you’re at home, you can’t help but think “Is he taking any drugs right now?” “Why won’t he tell me the truth? I know his addiction is bad.” “What if he actually isn’t addicted? What if I’m worried for nothing?”

You don’t know why it worries you so much, you barely know this guy. But some sort of connection has grown, something within you telling you that you have to have this sense of care towards him.

“Worry you? Why?”

“I told you this before.. Your thing with drugs, it worries me. You say you’re not addicted, but are you sure?” You pause, inhaling as you blink to look away, then back at him. “You don’t need to keep lying to me, we’ll be dating for nine whole months.”

His voice is firm and slow, “I’m not lying, I’m being serious. I’m not addicted. I can stop any time I want.”

Oh, here we go. You know he’s lying. You just have that gut feeling within you. And the way he’s speaking, it’s so defensive. So frustrated. You don’t want to pester him, but you signed up for this in the contract, to give him a sense of help for his addiction, that’s your job here. That’s what you influence, a healthy lifestyle.

“When was the last time you took something?”

“It was.. this morning.”

“Why?”

“We had dance practice and I needed it to relax. Just a small amount, nothing too serious like you’re thinking.”

“.. What did you take?”

He avoids your gaze, looking down at the one hand of yours that’s intertwined with his. “Xanax.. only a low dose though.”

“How much?”

“It was just 1mg.”

Okay, that's not too bad right? Honestly, you don’t really know much about doses, you should probably research when you get home.

All you know is he’s illegally occupying these drugs, his manager already told yours, who alerted you. So clearly, he’s doing more than usual, otherwise he could just ask his doctor for them if he has anxiety, which you can sort of tell he does.

You don’t respond straight away, simply looking down at his hands as you rub your thumb over his knuckles in a sense of .. care?

“When did you start?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Satoru..” You tilt your head with worried eyebrows, “I just want to help, that’s part of my job in this whole situation.”

He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply as he reluctantly responds, “Fine, might as well tell you ‘cause you’re not going to leave me alone about this, are you?” His voice is low, irritated.

“No, I won’t.”

He sighs, preparing himself before actually revealing everything. “I started… about 3 years ago. Went to the doctor for my anxiety and they prescribed Xanax for a month. Then they just fucking stopped it.”

He pauses for a moment, opening his eyes but still avoiding eye contact as he looks down at your thumb, caressing his knuckles. “But I… couldn’t stop taking it, I needed it to relax, to quiet down the thoughts in my head. So I started buying it on the street, small amounts at first, but then…then I started finding out about different products that help, stronger ones. Like uh.. heroin.. coke..other tablets that help with anxiety too..” He pauses again, still looking down.

“Well yeah now I can’t stop,” He laughs looking back up at you. Why is he laughing? Like he’s genuinely laughing. Not even an awkward laugh. “I don’t overdose if you’re thinking that.”

“So that means you do overdose,” You say, staring at him as you speak in a serious tone, contrasting his humorous behaviour. “I never even said anything.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, feeling a pang of guilt and shame at being called out so bluntly. His eyes meet our hands intertwined again. “I’m not stupid, I know my limits. I’ve never gone overboard, never ended up in the ER. I’m in control here.”

Oh god. It’s breaking your heart. Little by little.

How can you possibly help him if he keeps lying to himself?

“No.. you’re not stupid, not at all.. I never meant that.” You bite down on your lip for a little,then inhale as you look down, why is this seriously breaking your heart?

“You're not stupid. It’s not like you can just stop, can you..”

He lets out a soft, broken laugh at your words. “No, no I can’t stop. Once I started taking them, it was like I couldn’t go back. The more I took, the more I needed to keep taking. It’s just… I needed to keep going. Otherwise everything becomes too much.”

“What are the specific reaso-“ The corner of your eyes sees a waitress approaching, fuck. “Wait, change the subject. Someone’s coming over.”

He looks up and quickly composes himself, a smile on his face. God he must be so happy for the distraction.

You both watch as your food is placed on the table, your stomach rumbling in anticipation. The conversation from before still hangs heavily in the air.

“Oh.. they set out the food so beautifully.”

He hums in agreement, and you can see him still staring at your face rather than the food, he’s not even glanced at the food properly yet.

You look back at him but he quickly breaks out of his gaze and finally looks down at the food, his eyes widening at the presentation. You hold back your laugh. He’s still shy, not always so cocky and confident.

“Yeah, it does. they really went all out.” He says with a smile.

He takes a bite of his food, savouring the flavours and letting out an appreciative hum, looking back up at you with a smile.

“Damn, this is good. Eat yours.”

And you do, the tastes melting onto your tongue, rich, savoury and perfectly cooked.

“.. Do you want to carry on the conversation from before or..?”

He doesn't respond straight away, his expression unreadable as his gaze is locked onto the food whilst he chews.

He swallows, then speaks, “I guess. You’re going to pester me anyway. But let’s finish eating first, yeah?”

After around 10 minutes, you both finish your meals, putting your utensils down.

“Alright, you can bug me with your questions now.” He says with a playful smirk, as if this is all a joke. But you can’t help but laugh a little back, he’s so childish it’s cute. But also a little worrying. He’s always playing off his emotions. Why do men act like that?

“I’m not trying to bug you idiot. We should pay for the food first though, then talk about this in the car I think..”

You both feel the tension from earlier lift off you both as he laughs lightly at your response. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He calls over a waitress, he pays the bill keeping up a casual and easy demeanour. Then he stands up and offers you his hand, “Ready, baby?”

You roll your eyes as you scoff a laugh, taking his hand gently as you stand up, picking up the Cartier gift bag off the table.

His fingers intertwined with yours once more, his hands are still trembling, ever so slightly. It's almost unnoticeable. But you notice it, you’re feeling it.

Once outside, the paparazzi that were waiting there bombard you both again. Shielding you as best as he can, he pushes through the throng of media as you’re filled with discomfort.

You both finally manage to reach the car and he quickly opens the passenger door for you to get in. After you're inside, he gets into his driver's seat and closes the door, the both of you exhaling heavily in relief as some distance is put between you both and the cameras.

“You okay?” His voice is teasy and sarcastic, trying to light up the mood, “You're not completely traumatised by the experience of dealing with the media right?”

You chuckle again in response, the both of you seem to laugh a lot around each other. “I didn’t think it’d be that bad when I signed up for this.”

“Yeah, it can be pretty overwhelming dealing with the media. But I have experience dealing with these vultures, you get used to it after a while..” He pauses as you hum in agreement.

“Let me park in a different area, yeah? Then we can talk about.. you know.. what you want to know. There’s no point of me lying anymore. You won’t tell anyone though right?”

“No, of course not. I won’t do that. I promise.” And you won’t, anything too personal you won’t. You usually tell Utahime everything, but you won’t this time. You promised.

He smiles softly at your reassurance and nods, pulling out of the parking lot and driving the car to a quieter, more secluded area. The short drive is filled with silence until he parks his car in a secluded area under the night sky.

There's no other cars around in this parking lot, the only sound around being the hum of the engine and the distant sound of city noise. Someone could kill us here, he could kill me here. Fuck, what am I thinking?

You both allow the silence to fill the air for a moment, the tension slowly building once more.

He glances at you, his gaze fixed intently on your face as he finally speaks, his voice low and soft ,"Alright, you can ask me whatever you want to know. I’ll answer honestly.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Why did your doctor stop your prescription?”

He doesn't say anything for a moment then takes a deep breath before answering, "The doctor was worried about the long-term side effects and potential harm to my body. They had an idea that I was becoming addicted because I kept asking for more from the pharmacy and when I had any appointments. He told me I couldn’t take anymore and I.. got angry.. yelled and shit.. so they took me off it.”

Why would they do that? How dumb do they have to be to just.. stop it completely instead of gradually helping him to stop? You blame his doctor for his whole addiction, they were reckless.

“Why do you do it? Specifically.”

He lets out a bitter laugh at the question, shaking his head slightly. “Why do I do it? I don’t know. Being an idol I guess it just..” He pauses again, struggling to find the words to express himself. "Practising for hours on end.. hardly any rest.. the media.. fans.. everything it’s just..”

He grips the steering wheel tight as he slouches in his seat, his knuckles turning white. “Everything gets too much. My mind is always going a thousand miles a minute. There’s too much to deal with. Too much pressure when your #3. The label wants to get us to #1, and they’ll force anything onto us to achieve that.”

You don’t respond, simply listen, letting him really come to terms with his issues instead of playing them off as a joke.

“The drugs help quiet everything. They numb the thoughts and the feelings and make it all bearable for a short while.”

“And you take.. illegal drugs.. like heroin.. and..” You inhale a shuddered breath, biting your lip as you look away. Then look back at him with a pitiful look.

“I know it’s bad. Trust me, I know. I’m not stupid. But it’s my way of coping I guess. It just helps me get through the day.”

“You take some every day?” And he nods, shame written on his face.

“And I never said you were stupid. Stop thinking that okay? You’re not.. it’s not entirely your fault, your doctor is at fault mainly here.”

But again, he lets out a bitter laugh at your words, “No, stop saying that. It is my fault. I’m the one who keeps doing these things. There’s no one else to blame but me.” He hasn’t made eye contact with you once during this conversation.

“… Don’t think like that.”

“Why not?” And he’s finally turned his head to you, voice full of frustration and defensiveness as his eyes meet yours with furrowed brows.

“Self blaming will just make you feel more negative and anxious, making you need more drugs to calm you down. You can’t always control your brain if it’s been wired differently, the only thing that is your fault is your lack of truly trying to change.”

His one hand gripping on the steering wheel tightens even more, anger rising in his chest, “Lack of trying to change? You don’t think I haven’t tried? I’ve tried to stop so many times, and every time I fucking fail. Every time I keep coming back to the drugs. I’m hopeless. That's all there is to it. I don’t know why my manager contacted you for help, I’m just going to bother you.”

“You don’t bother me. Just worry. When was the last time you tried to stop?”

You see him hesitate, as if he wants to lie again, but his eyes meet yours once more. “Like.. seven months ago, relapsed after a week.” He scoffs a laugh at himself.

“That’s a long time ago though.”

“Yeah, I know. But I didn’t want to try again. Felt like I was losing my mind during that week. I just couldn’t handle it.”

“What support did you have at the time?”

He lets out a hollow, bitter laugh again, "Support? I don't need support. I'm supposed to be a successful, talented idol. I'm supposed to get women and be the man. I can't be seen as weak and vulnerable. I can't have people seeing the mess of a man I am, the weak, broken guy who can't get over his fucking anxiety or stop taking drugs."

…

Your lips are parted, brows furrowed and eyes wide as you freeze and just stare at him. Did he just say that? Why are you shaking? There’s no way he truly thinks like that. It’s breaking your heart.

“Jesus- are you crazy?!”

“I take drugs, what do you think, sweetheart?”

“No i mean-“ and you inhale sharply, squeezing your eyes shut to compose yourself and then open them again at his irritated expression. “Satoru.. that’s what you call stupid.” And he grits his teeth in anger, “What the actual fuck do you mean you don’t need support? You have Shoko and Geto. Did you ever seek support from them when you were having withdrawals?”

“No. But when they’d try to help I’d yell at them I guess. So now they make jokes with me about it instead to help me cope, but Shoko gets fucking mad when she sees me actually doing the drugs in front of her or if she sees me carrying it and Suguru just lectures me.”

“Do you push them away?”

“Yeah, so what? I never want them to see me all weak like that. I just want to deal with it on my own, prove that I’m strong and in control.”

“You don’t need to do that, you know it won’t help to just rely on yourself. If you feel like you’re about to relapse after trying to stop, you seek help and comfort to stop you from doing that.”

He lets out a huff of frustration, “I know I'm supposed to do that, but... but it just feels like I should be able to handle it on my own. It feels weak, to have to rely on other people to hold me up. I don't want to burden them with my problems.”

🏷️taglist - @poopooindamouf @catobsessedlady @xionri @spookysoowpprince @abiiebibie @svgvrvs @minzxec @chuyasthighs0 @k-kkiana @you-always-made-me-blush @bbysnw @luvvmae @juliiizh @fleurdelluna @meowforlove @tqd4455 @miliondollagirl @norvacaine @d0nk3y-k0ng @hyperfixationwhore @pinkkminn @gomorlo @lillizard21-blog @zoeyflower @prettynai

(names in white, you can’t be tagged - please fix this or I’m sorry I’ll have to remove you off the list <3!!)

[suguwife]

Depths Of Pain - Gojo Satoru aesthetics -

[suguwife]

Shall I write up a oneshot of angry sex with ceo satoru who you’re being forced to marry but he’s your ex and you both ended on bad terms - or do I carry on writing the next chap for DOP 🤔🤔

[suguwife]

could you pleasee show us what y/n’s wardrobe is like in DOP?

Of course !!

Outerwear would be classy, chic, elegant and obviously expensive since she comes from wealth - she likes to wear long maxi dresses/skirts like this often

When she’s feeling a little less modest for outerwear she’d opt for shorter skirts/dresses with pointed heels/ballet flats

When she’s not doing anything special (like walks/grocery runs etc.) she’ll wear something simple but stylish, usually jeans or shorts

In bed/at home (when she’s not going out) she’ll just wear nightgowns/slip dresses/short+tank top sets made out of cotton or silk, and they’ll usually have some sort of lace design on the hem/collar

[suguwife]

This image does things to me I need him so bad

[suguwife]

reader and gojo’s wedding was just before the story started.. so, what did their wedding look like? I rlly wanna know what they wore and how the venue looked even if it doesnt mean much for the story😣

I love u for this question honestly I love aesthetics sm even if it doesn’t mean anything much for the story.

It was an old money wedding full of wealth, since both of them come from a lineage of power + influence. Guests filled with intimate family members, some influential figures and friends

An elegant + classy European styled wedding in a large mansion venue

Bridal wear, I imagined reader wearing an off shoulder laced wedding dress that hugs tight on the waist, loads of intricate designs in the dress and the back end of it dragging on the floor with a matching veil with real white diamond jewellery

Makeup - glowy, long lashes, innocent look. Hair - natural updo with her front strands let out in soft waves

- and for her entrance song I imagined an orchestra + violin playing Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey (link)

Satoru would’ve just worn a black suit with a tie and loafers, his hair slicked back with one strand hanging out over his forehead waiting at the altar for her with a bored face, he kept that cold face on when she walked down the aisle too but his lips were slightly parted from how beautifullll she looked