Gojo Satoru X Reader - Blog Posts

⟶ satoru and his jealous!wife

cw:: not proofread, fem!reader, foul language, fluff and crack ;P

It's only natural that women hit on Satoru.

He's a gorgeous man. The way he tilts down his head ever so slightly to peer at whoever he's talking to, who could blame the girls who's hearts he sends a-fluttering?

You could.

Perhaps if they'd cared to cast their eyes downwards, they'd see a wedding band on his left ring finger. Perhaps, if they weren't so laser-focused on his groin, they'd see the fiancée already sitting at a table, a ticking in her jaw as she watches women flirting with her man.

Eventually, and not a moment too soon, he collects your food and returns to you.

“Here you go, sweets! Dig in,” he beams, snapping apart a set of chopsticks and handing them to you. You don't take them, tapping your nails on the table and staring at him.

“You really took your time, didn't you?” you say, eyeing him shrewdly.

He grins even wider, failing to detect your irritation, instead picking up a nigiri and pressing it to your lips.

“Busy, huh?” He smiles as you take the sushi into your mouth, helping himself to your nigiri too.

You hum noncommittally.

For a few minutes, you eat together quietly. He picks up a piece of sushi between his chopsticks, he feeds it to you with a cheesy grin, then he feeds himself.

“So cute,” he teases, giggling as you roll your eyes.

But the way his eyes sparkle only for you does wonders for your temper, and you can't help but feel a little silly that you'd gotten so wound up over women he wouldn't ever consider entertaining.

That is, until one of them has the nerve, the gall to tap him on the shoulder.

“Um— my friend wanted your number,” she squeaks out. Surely far too old to be running errands for her peers like this, but you press your lips together and let Satoru speak. Some thoughts aren't to be shared aloud.

He chuckles. “Well, I’m actually here with my wife.” He gestures to you, glancing over with hearts in his eyes. “But I’m sure your friend will find someone better than me!”

“Perhaps in a high school?” You smile coldly, visibly seething behind a veneer of friendliness. “After all, you're far too old to be running errands for your peers like this.” Oops, you shared your thought aloud.

The woman scoffs, rolling her eyes and turning to return to where her friends said expectantly. “Bitch,” she mutters.

You shoot up, the dishes rattling on the table, ready to chase after her, all too willing to make her regret hitting on a clearly married man. But Satoru catches your wrist and tugs you back to the table, his lips twitching in amusement.

“Is my sweet, baby, darling wife… jealous?” he simpers, leaning forward and resting his head in his hands.

“No,” you spit, far too quickly to be genuine. Of course, he doesn't buy it.

He coos, leaning across the table and grabbing your cheeks. “So cute! My wife is so so cute!”

“Fuck off.” You swat at his hands and he pulls back, picking up a chopstick and tracing your lips with the wooden utensil.

“Baby, don't worry. You make every other woman look like chopped liver,” he grins. sliding his glasses down his nose so you can look in his eyes. “Don’t be jealous, sweetie pie.”

You scoff, picking up the other set of chopsticks, snapping them apart to continue eating your lunch.

“I wasn't jealous. I was just annoyed that she didn't understand that you're clearly married.”

“Right. Sure, cutie,” he says, giving you a shit-eating grin before returning to feeding you the nigiri. “Whatever you say.”

tags:: @candy-s72

⟶ satoru x baking hobbyist!reader (college au) part:: 1/?

⟶ surprise!! it's a smau ;P this is part of a larger series inspired by the amazing brilliant insanely talented @reignpage n u can find my masterlist here !

cw:: i've never made a smau before, ignore typos im lazy

⟶ the 4 times teen!satoru tried to break down the walls to your heart, and the 1 time he did.

cw:: fem!reader, not proofread due to lazy xP, reader dgaf, fluff/crack, 2.1k words, i can't write long works, mild blood/injury (nosebleed, broken ankle)

Satoru Gojo has no shortage of confidence. Quips that have men clapping him on the shoulder, flirts that have girls weak in the knees. He is a boy who exudes cockiness, but for some reason that he just can't understand, it all melts away in your presence, giving way to trembling hands and a red face.

You are several grades below him. Grade Three, specifically. And it's not like you're model pretty. Sure, his eyes are always fixed on your legs or your neck or your eyes or your lips or your hair, but he's definitely prettier, he's certain.

You're not even nice to him. A biting remark here, a blatant dismissal there, and he finds himself wailing into his pillow, a half-sympathetic Suguru watching on in mild pity.

“Just start small. Say you like her hair. Or her shoes,” he says, looking down at Satoru, who's sprawled out on his dorm room floor.

Satoru sniffles, lifting his head. “You really think it'll work?”

“Dunno. But it's worth a try.”

“I like your shoes, Y/N!”

You look up from your flip-phone in surprise. Paired together on a mission, the two of you had, up until now, been sitting in silence on a train. You follow his line of sight to your new converse, laced up tight. Perfectly clean and perfectly you.

“Thanks. My mom just sent them for me,” you mumble, looking the exact opposite way of him. God forbid he sees the way your cheeks tinge very slightly pink. You'd hate for him to know the effect even a passing compliment from him clearly has on you.

He grins in self-satisfaction. He knew it was a good idea to trust Suguru! And now, like clockwork, you'll be falling at his feet in three… two… one…

“There’s seaweed in your teeth.”

Stupid Suguru!

Satoru blushes furiously, turns the other way, and starts furiously sucking at his teeth to remove the offending plant. Suguru had pawned off his seaweed snack to him earlier, and now he has to reap the consequences. Another romantic failure, and this time it wasn’t even his fault.

Still red, eyes pricking with embarrassed tears, he looks back over at you. But, much to his dismay, you've returned your attention to your phone, tapping away.

He'll get ‘em next time.

”Holy shit, Gojo!”

But not this time, apparently.

His eyes widen as he sees you staggering back, and he jogs up to lean over you.

“You okay…?”

Stupid question. Because you look up at him, blood pouring from your nose, a devastating mixture of humiliation and resentment and raw pain glinting in your eyes, as you wipe your bloodied nose on your white shirt and drag your bloodied hand over your skirt.

“No, I’m not fucking okay! You always do this, stupid!” You throw one more scornful look over your shoulder, before marching back towards the school, blood still streaming down your pretty face.

For a split second, he's torn between giving you space and running after you. He picks the latter, naturally, and is quickly stumbling after you with all the grace of a newborn fawn, yelling for you to wait, just a second!

You don't, of course, and it takes him catching up to you and slowing to match the pace of your furious stomps for him to be within your earshot.

“Come on, you know I didn't mean to—”

“You literally always do this. You beg me to come train with you, for reasons beyond my understanding considering you’re, like, three grades above me, and then every time it ends with me having to take myself to the stupid nurse’s office ‘cause you can't control yourself ever, so just leave me alone.”

He frowns, guilt tearing at his heart. “Y/N, please, just let me say sorry—”

At that, you whirl around, facing him dead on. Red mars your lower face, still steadily dripping down and collecting on your well-bitten lips, and it takes a world of strength for Satoru to tear his eyes away from your mouth and up to your own gaze boring into him.

He almost hopes for a second you won't speak. Hopes you'll just turn around and continue walking in silence, not looking at him over your shoulder but at least letting him stay with you.

Alas, he is not such a lucky man.

“I don't need you to say sorry,” you mutter, before turning on your heel and marching back into the building, leaving him standing alone on the smooth stone pathway.

He wipes flour from his eyes, sneezing once, twice, thrice.

You sigh. “I thought you said you were good at baking. You called yourself ‘wifey material’.” You’re not faring much better than him, wiping egg from your cheek with a frown.

“Hey! Even a perfect clock is wrong twice a day.”

“That’s not how the saying goes.”

He sighs, casting his eyes over what used to be the kitchen. Several bags of flour were tipped over, so much egg where egg should not be, milk steadily dripping onto the tiled floor. The two of you look like toddlers who'd broken into the pantry, covered head to toe in staple ingredients.

“Well if I can't cook… and you can't cook… who's going to make us sweet treats?” he laments.

You imperceptibly sigh, almost feeling bad for him. “We can go to the store, if you want,” you murmur, uprighting the carton of milk. You avoid making eye contact with the incredulous look he’s giving you, but can you blame him? It's been months of knowing you, and this is the first time you've proposed hanging out together without him asking first.

His eyes light up, sparkling with glee. “Sure! The store! I’ll pay!”

“Okay. Sure.” You unloop the apron from around your neck, taking his too, and hang them up. “Let's go.”

The walk to the store is pleasant. You can't help but admire the koi fish swimming through the clear-water streams, and Satoru can't help but admire you.

The warmer weather has pushed your white shirt cuffs up your arms, and unbuttoned your top button, and he can't help but trail his eyes over the few square inches of your exposed skin. So soft, and so pretty.

“Pardon?” You’re looking at him now, pushing your glasses up to your forehead and leaving tiny indents on your nose. He’d kill to kiss them away.

“Do you mean to be saying all this out loud?” And now the sun-driven flush on your cheeks climbs higher, teasing the fat under your eyes, sinking lower and falling beneath your jawline, and oh how he’d love to be the one who makes you blush, and be the only man privy to your flusteredness—

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Your rapid clicks before his face grounds him again, and with a squeak he realises how long he's been carelessly speaking his private thoughts aloud. He pouts and swats your hand away, redirecting his gaze to the right, looking away from you.

“What? Wasn’t talking about you. Just… Uh…”

In his embarrassment, he fails to notice the way you're fanning yourself, desperately trying to bring your heated cheeks to a regular temperature.

“Just… reciting poetry…”

“You may enter now.”

The nurse is barely able to finish her sentence before Satoru bursts through the doors of the ward. You’ve sat up in bed, a tiny little scowl marring your perfect features, eyes stubbornly refusing to even glance at the cast around your ankle.

“You scared me!” he whines, dropping into the plastic chair beside your bed and dragging his hands down his face. “I thought I lost you, Y/N!”

“It’s just a broken ankle,” you mutter, swatting half-heartedly at him.

“I mean, honestly, tripping down the stairs? What a lame way to die!” he laments, batting his stupidly long eyelashes at you. It takes everything in you not to snigger.

“What's a good way to die?”

“Oh, you know, getting struck by lightning, killed by a wild rhino, after killing five billion curses… But—” he pouts at you for distracting him, “—that’s not the point! You need to be more careful!”

“Aw.” You smile ever so slightly, your eyes crinkling when you look at him. “Well, you can sign my cast.”

“Really?” He immediately drops his pout, his eyes sparkling as he fumbles for the marker you're offering him. He shoots up and out of his chair, stumbling towards the end of the bed, and giggles like a schoolboy. “The first one?”

“Sure,” you hum, watching the way he delicately cradles your ankle in his hand.

He squeals, and immediately starts doodling his name along your cast. He can't help but draw hearts around his words, but you can't bring yourself to say anything when he looks so pleased with himself.

He pulls away, petting your ankle before he sets it gently back on the bed.

“Tech is sooo boring without you. All techniques, missions that!” He sits down on the bed next to you, as you gently push yourself into a sitting position, careful not to aggravate your foot.

“Yeah? Anything fun happen in the last two days?” You ask, poking his shoulder.

“Nooo…” he sighs. “Everyone loves me too much. No variety.”

“You’re in love with yourself.”

“Well, who isn't?”

You snort. “Right.”

He grins at you. The breeze from the open window gently tousles your hair, your features bare from makeup and freshly washed. You glow under the sun, and he sighs, smiling.

“Hey, when you're back—” he starts, but is quickly interrupted.

“Alright, that's enough.” The nurse enters the room, armed with a syringe. “She needs to rest.”

He sighs once more, shoulders deflating, then stands from the bed. “See you.”

You wave. “Later.”

It came as a surprise to few that you made Grade 1 so quickly. A meteoric rise in skill, resultant of over a year of hard work, practice day in, day out. You’ve found yourself scrubbing away calluses every evening, taking less and less time for yourself, but treating less and less wounds.

It was a bone-deep satisfaction when you received the news. A several second long sigh of relief, a weight floating up, up, and away.

“Woooooooo!”

As confetti hits your face, you mentally scold yourself for believing you could ever have just a few minutes of peace.

“Grade 1! Wooooooo!” Satoru sweeps you up into a bone crushing hug, his party popper abandoned on the floor.

Your facial muscles betray you and you smile. Your voice box betrays you too, and you start to laugh as he spins you around.

“I know! It’s crazy!” Who said that? Not you.

“I bought you a caaaake!” He sets you down on the ground, grabbing your hand and dragging you back towards his dorm room.

“For you or for me?”

“For you, but if you don't like it, I’ll have no choice but to eat it.”

“A necessary sacrifice, I’m sure.”

“Exactly!” He pushes you into his room and flicks on the light switch. It illuminates a banner he’d put up, reading “GRADE 1 PARTYYYYY”.

You chuckle again, flopping down on his bed. “What would you have done if I hadn't gotten it?”

He smirks as he retrieves the three-tier Victoria sponge from his mini-fridge. “Wouldn’t’ve taken you to my room.”

You huff out a laugh. “I see.”

He joins you on the bed, sitting cross legged and setting down the cake. “No cutlery.” He grabs a fistful of cake, grinning as he pushes it to your lips. “Open wiiide!”

And as every neuron fires at once, screaming at you to swat his hand away, or pull back, or even just roll your eyes and pretend to be uninterested, you open your mouth and allow him to push a handful of cake into your mouth.

Cream smears along your cheeks, jam along your lips, and you watch him with fond eyes as he finishes off the handful.

And in that moment, you realise how effectively he's worked his way into your heart, taking residence in your arteries and synchronising your best with his own.

He looks back at you, adoration swimming in his crystalline gaze, swallowing down the cake.

“I'm really proud of you,” he says, sincerity in every word, every syllable.

You mirror his smile, reaching out to wipe cream from his chin. “Thank you, Satoru.”

As your skin makes contact with his own, he melts under your touch. He realises how swiftly he's fallen in love with you, barely a year going by before you’ve had him at your feet.

He prays a silent prayer that you will let him share the rest with you.

“The cake?” You say, wiping your hand on a napkin. He realises that, again, he’s expressed his secret thoughts aloud. Oh, well. They're for you, anyway.

“Yeah. The cake.”

⟶ no one will ever know the way you and satoru love each other

cw:: fem!reader, fluff drabble, reader is a liiittle nice this time wow

“How do you possibly bear him?” your friend asks, laughing over her glass of wine. “He’s like a kid! Don't you want a more serious guy?”

Your friend doesn't see the way he cares for you. Your friend doesn't know of the way he gathers you up in his arms, peppering wet kisses all over your face when you have nightmares. She could never know the times he follows you to the bathroom while you shower because he hates to be apart from you, or the times he makes you laugh so hard you pee a little.

She has no idea of the reverent touches he leaves you with every morning, or the bone crushing squeeze he greets you with in the evening. His enthusiasm to take up your chores, his boundless glee to spend even a single minute with you, the way his eyes seem to light up even further when you walk into a room.

“No, not really. He's wonderful,” you smile.

You wouldn't expect her to understand. Some people march into your lives and insist on turning it topsy-turvy, bringing a brilliant shade of blue into a greyscale world.

“She's boring as fuck, bro,” Satoru’s friend groans, slamming his beer back on the bar counter. Satoru snorts at his sloppiness. “Don’t laugh. She is. You need to find a younger chick, you know, someone more like you.”

Satoru thinks about punching him, but he decides it's a worse fate to never know your true nature. After all, it's not like his friend sees the way you pretend to not notice when he sneaks candy into the shopping cart, or whenever he catches you stifling a laugh at his antics. His friend doesn't see the times you're spontaneous, taking a day off work because you “just missed my fiancé, okay?” And he certainly doesn't see how you always let him pick the movie, and watch with rapt attention because you like whatever he likes.

Satoru is the only person who gets to hear your low voice talking him back to sleep, or your sleepy “get off of me, you whale,” when he wakes up draped over you. The way you kiss him, the way you interlock your hands with his, the way you ruffle his hair whenever you're standing over him. It's all his.

“She’s better than me,” he grins, throwing back the rest of his drink.

Some people, he muses, are designed to bring a much-needed sense of straightness and order to an otherwise chaotic life. Someone to be the rising sun of a new day, casting a soft morning glow over where the moon has kissed.

Perhaps, some are born to meet each other.

is this not gojo

⟶ satoru is a stinking glasses thief

cw:: just fluff/crack, reader is sick of him (affectionately), gn!reader

It’s 12PM when you realise you haven't seen your glasses all day.

Squinty-eyed, you trudge into the bedroom, trying to discern a pair of frames from the clutter and blurriness that greets you.

“Babe, you haven't seen my glasses have you?” you ask, searching through the bedside table before standing up and looking at him. You sigh.

“Nevermind. Found them,” you say, reaching out to pluck them off of his face. Satoru swats your hand away, grinning impishly.

“I look hot, right?” he grins (you think. it could be him baring his teeth in pain. It's blurry), taking your hand and pulling you down to the bed.

“I don't know. I can't see.”

“I always think you look super hot. So, what's the verdict? Do I look as good as you? Better?” He tugs you towards him, looping an arm around your shoulders and tilting your head up to his with a crooked finger.

“I dunno. Give me my glasses back and I'll let you know.”

He frowns, the cogs visibly turning in his head. “But then you won't see me wearing them..!”

You finally manage to wrangle your glasses off of him, sliding them back onto your face, blinking as your eyes readjust to the new focus. His little pout begs for your attention in ultra definition, and you can't help but pull his lip down, letting it bounce back up.

He sighs again, pulling you into his lap and poking you in the side. “You need to buy spares so you can see how hot I look in your glasses, okay?”

You roll your eyes. “I had spares. You sat on them—”

“Potato, potahto! You know, I always have to straighten your glasses after we make out sloppy style. You don't wanna straighten mine?” He bats his eyelashes at you, pressing his face right up to yours so you can get a good view of the way crocodile tears spring to his big blue eyes.

“I think I can live without.” You press a playful kiss to his lips.

“But you shouldn't.” He presses another kiss to your lips, then another, then another. “But I’ll forgive you if you promise to buy another pair, okay?”

You snort at his audacity, pinching his nose. “Fuck no. You broke them, you can replace them.”

He whines loudly, throwing himself back on the bed and starfishing. He remains that way for a full four seconds (new record) before springing back up.

“Okay!” He presses yet another kiss to your lips, before scooping you up and taking you to the living room, wrapped around him in a princess carry. “I'll order.”

You hum, readjusting your glasses. You scoff when you notice the visible finger marks on the lenses. “You touched the lense with your sweaty hands. Disgusting.”

“Oh, that's why your lenses were so blurry.”

⟶ let you break my heart again

cw:: i have never written angst like this before. gn!reader, reader is MEAN in this one, reader implied to be an english speaker, reader gets drunk? satoru + reader met at jujutsu high

Satoru Gojo is not a coffee drinker.

It’s bitter, it's either scalding hot or biting cold, and in your words, “it tastes like dirt.”

He remembers the way he laughed in agreement last year when you muttered that under your breath, consequence of sneaking a sip of Nanami’s coffee. He remembers looking at you, his cheeks flushed and his words all airy. And he can't scrub from his mind the way you didn't spare him a glance.

Satoru Gojo hates coffee. But after a long night of entertaining a drunken you, he needs something to propel him through the day. And cocaine is illegal.

His eyes follow you around the staff room. Rubbing your temples and groaning, snapping at anyone who dares to speak.

“Someone’s hungover,” he smirks.

“Shut up,” you hiss. “Your voice is so grating.”

He shuts up, and pretends you didn't say that. He shuts up and pretends you don't always say that. He shuts up and pretends he doesn't spend night after night picking you up from a bar, completely wasted, or dropping you off to a date, or picking you up from some fling’s apartment at 7am.

On days when the staff room is silent, he allows himself a fleeting moment to close his eyes and picture you. He dreams of the thirteen-year long softness with which he can't help but afford you, and he lets himself fantasise that once, just once, you'll turn around and return his lovesick smile.

But on days like this, he presses his lips together in a fine line and ignores the sympathetic glance Shoko spares him.

He wonders what it is about him that is so unappealing. Nursing a whiskey at some dive bar, he slurs out his troubles to a sympathetic barkeep.

“Girls like me. I get asked out all the time. But she doesn't want me, and I don’t know why!” He wants to scream, or cry, or laugh, but he's not sure which and he slumps over the bar and barely catches his glass before it goes tumbling over. “I don't want the other fish in the fucking sea. I want her. She’s the prettiest fish.”

No one comes to pick him up.

Some days you're sweet on him. You throw him a bone. You send him songs in English that he doesn't understand, but he listens to the melody and the gibberish lyrics and he finds pieces of you in the songs.

[satoru gojo]: good song

[satoru gojo]: i like your taste in music ;)

Read, 11:06PM.

On other days you pick him up as the unforgiving sun is setting. You drive, asking him about his day, letting him ramble about his students, or vent about the higher ups, or tell you about this super funny thing Nanami did as though you weren't there.

He turns his head away from you as he finishes speaking, and he's glad he wears a blindfold as it catches his tears.

He downs the rest of his coffee, shuffling over on the couch to give you room to sit next to him.

“Thanks for picking me up last night,” you mumble, picking at your nails. You refuse to make eye contact, which is just as well because he'd hate for you to see the wide-eyed stare he's subjecting you to.

“... No problem.”

⟶ waking up from a nap w satoru

cw:: fluff, slightly mean reader 😇, gn!reader

On one of those rare days when neither you nor Satoru were called out to school or a mission, you find yourselves draped over each other under a blanket. His mop of white hair rests on your chest, snoozing, while you pet his hair gently and watch the clouds drift on by.

You can't help but trace your eyes over his pretty features. Peaceful as a baby, lips slightly parted as he rests without a care. He's really cute when he doesn't speak, you muse.

Until suddenly he's blinking himself awake, licking his dry lips, and shattering every illusion of cuteness you'd foolishly constructed.

“Your tits are so comfortable to sleep on,” he grins, looking up at you with bleary eyes.

“You really know how to ruin any moment,” you smile down at him.

He giggles like a loser, dropping his head back into your chest with a great big yawn, pearly white molars blinking at you. “Ugh. I have a gross taste in my mouth.”

You hum, not at all sympathetic. “‘Cause of all that candy you ate before you fell asleep.”

“Um, no. Because I haven't kissed you in hours.”

“Wow! Harvard is calling.”

“I know right?” He grins self-assuredly, then goes wriggling up your body like a 6’5” centipede, nosing into your cheek. “Kiss.”

You roll your eyes, think about saying something snarky, then decide to just give in this time.

(Sometimes you worry you're too mean.)

(But not enough to stop.)

He grins against your lips when you lean in for a kiss, his eyes slipping closed and his hand working into your hair to tug you closer. Your hands lazily drape over his shoulders, the only sounds in the room being the gentle spin of the fan and the sound of you two locking lips.

It’s moments like these when you remember just how much you like your Satoru. Moments he's doing and not saying.

He pulls away, but not without leaving a final peck on your lips. “See? Now my mouth is all better.”

You're not convinced, twirling his hair between your fingers and asking, “Is it?”

“No,” he groans, sitting up. “Gonna go get something to eat. Be right back.”

You huff, watching him go. “Eat something healthy, babe.”

“I'd rather be shot.”



⟶ reader is mildly injured. satoru does not act accordingly

cw:: fluff/crack, gn!reader? (satoru calls em "princess") reader wears glasses, reader is injured (duh), just a really wee drabble to make myself feel better (eye hurt my feet), reader is a little mean

Tears prick at his bright blue eyes, threatening to spill over his red cheeks, pretty pink lips twisted in pain.

Funnily enough, it's not him who's in pain. It's you.

You, who is eyeing him with barely hidden disdain, feet propped up on the coffee table and a book in your hands. You tilt down your glasses to glare at him.

“What on earth are you moaning about?”

At that, your fiancé burst into tears, wriggling towards you and wrapping you in a suffocating hug, “Baby, I can't bear to see you in pain!” He buries his face in your neck, soaking your sweater as he wails in agony by proxy.

See, in a recent mission, you’d lost your shoes mid-fight. Rather than falling back, you'd continued through the pain, far too stubborn to even consider stopping to find your footwear. This resulted in the soles of your feet being torn to shreds, battered and bloodied.

(“I did win, though,” you said to Shoko as she wrapped up your feet in bandages.)

However, resultant of your injuries, Yaga has commanded you to stay home. And throughout the work day, Satoru was in pieces thinking of you. What if you're walking around? What if you've tripped over? What if, and God forbid, you left the apartment?

So to come home and see you cozied up on the couch, safe and sound, was too much for him. He ripped his blindfold off, pounced on you, and nuzzled right into your neck.

“That tickles. Please get off,” you mutter, trying to shove his head away.

He whines, only tightening his arms around you, knocking your book out of your hands and onto the floor. “I was worried sick! What if my sweet angel baby princess was walking around? My poor heart couldn't handle it!”

“Seek psychiatric help,” you say, rolling your eyes and pushing your glasses up to your head. Despite yourself, you can't help shifting on the couch to wrap both your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his white hair.

He sighs in satisfaction, feeling your arms around him. “Baby, being with you is enough to keep me sane.”

“Well, clearly not.”

He ignores your jabs, pressing his face right into the crook of your neck with a pleased little giggle, as though he really is trying to merge his own skin with yours.

“I'll start carrying you everywhere I go over my shoulder.”

“You will not.”

“Booo. You're mean.”

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ thinking about softdom!Gojo Satoru being so lenient with you. Whenever you’re on top of him, he merely gives you his charming grin while laying completely still for you, “Just make your—Ngh,” Satoru groans, “Just make yourself feel good, yeah baby?” He’s absolutely drunk from your cunt and the way his cock twitches inside you makes you ride him even faster, “Yeah?”

Satoru eagerly nods his head and pushes his head back in pleasure, “Yes, baby, d-don’t worry about me… You just use my cock—Ah shit—However the fuck you l-like…!”, “Fuck! Yes, yes, use my dick, use me.”, “I love you so much, I love you—Shiiittt! Ugh, did I make you cum? Good, good…”

Gojo Satoru is sooo pussydrunk.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Imagine Newly-wedded Husband!Gojo Satoru using his mouth to remove the delicate white-laced garter on your thigh, feeling his lips brush oh so closely to where your pussy is as his hands roam over your calves and knees with the intent of stimulating you even more, you were almost sure he gave a small peck to where your clit is before he lifted his head from your expensive—no doubt—Wedding dress with a victorious grin, all while still biting the garter as if it was a trophy he was more than happy to get. But that little scene he did was just the beginning, because when the two of you finally reached the king-sized bed of your newly-refurbished mansion, he's had you in such a dizzy, fucked-out daze that you don't even remember how many times the both of you came, or how much time has passed after Satoru basically pouncing on you like a predator with his prey. You were littered in hickies, marks, bites, cum, and yet Satoru's still not stopping, "Fuck, did you know how much I wanted to do this to you now that were married? I don't think I can stop now that I have you looking like this... Come on, one more round, you can do it, right honey?"

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Imagine Influencer!Gojo Satoru making a video of you doing his skincare as he stood torso naked in front of you, showing off his Herculean body to the camera. Oh how much he keeps giving u those 'I wanna fuck you' eyes when u would pat the moisturizer on his cheeks, or spread the serum that almost looks like cum--And with that in mind--He makes sure you know he's horny when he smirks and holds your finger to spread the product all over his face that has you remembering him eating you out the night before. It was so intimate and hot, and his fans were sure to make comments about it all over the internet once Satoru posts it on his account, buttttttttt, he'll edit the video later once he finishes fucking u raw in bed until the sun goes up and your hole takes the shape of his dick.

𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄, 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐘/𝐍, 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋. ❛ 𝟶𝟷 satoru gojo ❜ - nsfw(not too much) , rdr us gndrneutral but is implied to be feminine

Who knew services like these existed, to choose a doll of your liking and have it delivered in front of your door step. It's your choice on what to do, either way, you'll be greeted with the elegant curtsy of someone beautiful, someone who looks at you like a doll would: Expressionless.

"I thought a smile would welcome me once I open the door," Gojo hummed to himself upon seeing you, to see you expressing nothing but a blank look, "Hah, they were right, you are beautiful; like a doll~"

His slender fingers touched your jaw, dragging it upon your chin to lift your head, facing his diamond-like eyes staring back at your own. milliseconds, seconds, minutes have passed by now, and he didn't distract himself from anything other than you.

"A pleasure to be at your service, I am Y/n, your chosen doll."

Gojo figured the other dolls wouldn't be this impassive, they would be expressive with their liking towards him, maybe a flirt or two. He's amused, nonetheless held your hand and gently pulled you inside his luxurious penthouse, and you allowed him to do so, you are supposed to fulfill his orders after all.

Instincts have a way of making him this experienced, he knew what to do with you, and he knew your objective is to be submissive after all. A service for the most precious doll is what he chose, the best one they could give, and that's you.

"Sir, what must you need for me to fulfill...?" This won't be different from the rest of the clients you've met, paying a doll for their own pleasure. It's not quite an innocent job after all, so you had not much hopes, not for your own pleasure, your climax.

"Don't be so hasty~" Reaching for your hair to dishevel your tied braids, he flashed a cheeky grin, undeniably amused at how adorable you looked, especially how you look at him so deeply.

Hands have reached each of your shoulders, pressing to sit you down on his large bed, comfy and soft, it didn't look so warm when you looked on his desk to see lube and condoms ready in place, a sign he's done this before.

"S-Sir, shall I strip myself off--Ngh!" A breathy moan shook out of your mouth upon the soft bite of Satoru, nibbling on your skin to feel the soft sensation, holding your waist to secure you.

Satoru had given you a bright red hickey, quite so much than any other of the clients, he simply peppered your neck with his lovebites, rushing down to your collarbones that have you shuddering.

"I'll do it. Just look pretty for me, will you?"

"Yes, sir..."

"Good doll ♡~"

Your fingers begin to clutch on the bedsheet as Satoru begins to push you down the bed, his lips pressing on one of the golden button on your dress--A chosen one for easy access, your boss says--Skillfully opening it with his tongue and then on to the next, leaving you bare in front of him.

There's no qualms or any timidness with you showing your chest, it was normal for you, but you didn't get how Satoru was looking at you so mesmerized, his expression was obvious with the way the blood began to rush on his cheeks.

"It seems I see now why you're the most precious doll. Such a cutie little thing."

A sudden bolt rushed over your entire body, gasping a soft moan when his knee had made contact between your legs, rubbing circles that's stimulating you to produce more breathy whines.

Satoru's hand touched both of yours, locking them together above you as he hovers over your chest to suck and play with your nipples. Together with his knee pleasuring you below, you can't help but whine and squint your eyes from the arousal.

"It sh-should be me who is s-supposed to pleasure you, sir! P-Please let me suck you off--Ha! Sir S-satoruuu ♡~"

Gojo Satoru's lip had connected with yours, something forbidden in your line of work, and yet his tounge had skillfully tangled with yours that there can't be no words you can sing to tell him off.

Would you had stopped him though? Perhaps not, it was too good, better than other clients you've fornicated with, he's too good at this, it's too pleasurable, gosh you can't help it!

"Aw, sweet doll. You'll be mine for tonight, I'll pay you triple in return, don't worry~"

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

in the wake of your scandalous divorce, you fall into the arms of emperor gojo satoru. for a while, you believe you have found love… until it becomes clear that your new husband is scheming behind your back! love, marriage, divorce… are you doomed to go through this path the second time?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, marriage of convenience, explicit smut, pregnancy

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress. this is the second part of remarried empress au trilogy! wc. 9.2k ! thank you so much for your love in the first part🩵 but as of now, TAGLIST IS CLOSED so i'd appreciate it if the comment section won't be flooded with asks for tags :')

credit header goes to @/kakashismain_ in twitter!

prev. all hail the empress | next. long live the empire (soon!)

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist | empress masterlist

Heavens, help me... I love her too damn much!

For Gojo Satoru, love was once an abstract concept. At first, he thought it was admiration, or a sense of obsession—

But on the day he watched you become Zen’in Naoya’s bride, Satoru realized it was much deeper than that. It felt like the sharpest sword had pierced straight into him and lodged itself there.

And then, years later— as if hearing his prayers, you became his. Since then, his life was perfect, because he wasn't lying when he said that you were everything he wanted in life.

Yet in a twist of fate, that same sinking, horrific feeling washed over him... as he watched the pagoda he built for you engulfed in flames.

You were there. Satoru felt himself staggering as he took in the mortifying sight. You and his unborn child are inside!

He didn't waste a breath as he dashed towards where you were, crushing everything in his path in the process, but just as he was about to enter the scorching temple—

“Satoru, no!” Suguru grabbed him, restraining him with his own body. “Get back!”

“No!” he screamed at him frantically. “She is there! Suguru, let go—!”

And then the worst happened, as the pagoda completely crumbled into a heap of rubble. Satoru's breath was knocked out of him as he faced the reality that he couldn't save you in time. And he felt like losing his consciousness as he wheezed, and thrashed in Suguru's hold.

It was all too much for him to comprehend as he struggled against the devastation before him.

How... did this happen? You were happy. You were about to welcome a child into your lives! The two of you really were...

SEVERAL WEEKS PRIOR

Your husband is trying to use you to wage a war... against your homeland.

You secluded yourself in your study, trying to make sense what you just overheard.

In a broader perspective, Satoru's actions could be constituted as national defense. If he perceived the Eastern Empire as a threat, then countermeasures were indeed necessary. But if not...

Regardless, it was not the very idea that blew you, but how he planned to use you to sway sentiment in your former country, to weaken them.

Is that what he's been aiming all this time? You felt like a hypocrite to question this since you too were using him. But these days, you were certainly not using him—you were falling in love with him.

It was strange, because you were supposed to be furious if that was his intent from the start. Yet what you felt right now was profound sadness, possibly even denial and heartbreak. You kept thinking how there must be another explanation—

“Sweetheart, hello~!”

You were startled when the door to your study was suddenly flung open, and the man from your thoughts strode in with a broad grin, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil.

"Satoru." You fixed him with a genial smile, even as nausea churned within you. Straightening your skirts, you looked up at him.

"I've been told you haven't been well, and Shoko said you've seen the physician," Satoru frowned, his long fingers cradling your face as he half-sat on your desk. "How did it go? What did he say?"

"Oh..." you clammed up, feeling at loss. "He said..."

Your dashing husband tilted his head curiously, bright eyes softened, worried lines etched on his face were so clear... and despite your conflict, you didn't have the heart to deny him this news.

"I'm with child." This time, your smile was genuine as you pushed back your intrusive thoughts. "Satoru... I'm carrying our child."

For a full ten seconds, Satoru was stunned, staring at you with a blank expression, his lips slightly parted. "H-huh...? Child? A... baby?"

"Mm-hm. A living baby."

"O-oh..." Satoru blinked his eyes rapidly—looking at your face, then your abdomen—before his expression broke into absolute wonder, broadly grinning. "T-that's... oh— it's—!"

To say he was speechless didn't cut it as he stuttered, messed his hair, pinched his own cheek, becoming restless yet looking so incredibly giddy—

"My queen!" Satoru suddenly lifted you and spun you around midair. "My beautiful wife—!" before gently sitting you on the desk and burying his face in your skirts, hugging your waist tightly. "Good lord, I'm— I'm so—!"

It hadn't truly dawned on you until now that you were going to become a mother. Witnessing Satoru's unabashed reaction as he nestled his face into you… nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Right in this moment, you didn't entertain any other thoughts. You were deeply moved by your husband's overwhelming excitement for your baby. And the realization that, despite Naoya's accusations—

Satoru looked up at you the second you sniffled, and he immediately drew you closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Hey, no tears, yeah?" He rested a hand on your jaw, his eyes sparkling with utter adoration as he gazed at you. "This is wonderful. We're going to be parents. This child... a part of you and me—we're going to bring them into the world."

You tugged his collar close and brushed your lips against his. And he responded with equal fervor. You yearned for this closeness with him.

. . .

But still in the back of your head, that lingering, buried fear whispered—

Is the man who adores you this much... capable of hurting you to the same extent?

With your bare bodies pressed closely, and you under him, Satoru could sense the rapid beat of your heart. And in return, you felt the heat of his palms against your skin and the tremors in his breath.

Yet now, in your marital bed, it quickly became clear to him that you, who were usually so composed and collected, were nervous. Satoru couldn't suppress the smile spreading across his face even if he tried.

"This is far from our first time, Empress." His coy smirk taunted you as he littered kisses along your jawline and chest. "What are you so jittery about, hmm?"

"Ah..." you let out a soft sigh as he sucked your breast with his mouth. "N-nothing... you're mistaken."

"Hmm... not confessing? Right..." He then grabbed the generous mound of your other breast and fondled it, making you squirm and moan.

But in the midst of this eroticism, suddenly your mind was thrown back to—

“That’s why I have her here.”

"Satoru," you breathed out, catching his hands. He looked up to you in slight surprise, thinking that you wanted to stop.

But he was in for a plot twist when you first pushed him, then flipped him underneath you, straddling him and capturing his lush lips, yanking his hair in the process.

"Whoa— hey..." Satoru held your hips, visibly startled but clearly enjoying your sudden whim, snickering. "My queen—ohh— you're a sight to behold, on top of me."

He grabbed the flesh of your bottom, sinking his fingers into it and pulling you forward. You let yourself be moved until your thighs were next to his ears.

Suddenly, it was, at once, the most peculiar experience—the greatest confidence boost you had ever received, and the hottest thing he had ever seen.

"You're so damn wet already," your husband nipped your inner thigh playfully as he observed your folds, and you gasped. "Are you ready?"

In response, you slammed yourself onto his face because, right now, you were in a less than forgiving mood.

"You look good under me," you darkly retorted, but then you choked on your own breath when your husband started licking your folds messily with his tongue.

Satoru smirked at the sound of your breathless noises, responding by lapping even more fervently. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tightening their grip on his scalp as you began to grind yourself against his face.

"You a-are really n-nasty!" you moaned, voice breaking at the feeling his sinful tongue parting your opening. "Maybe y-you have lied to me… all th-is time."

Satoru furrowed his brows in slight confusion, and perhaps a bit of annoyance, as he pinched your clit in retaliation, causing you to draw in a sharp breath.

"You're— awful!" but contrary to your claims, your face contorted with pleasure as the tight coil in your belly spasmed. "How m-many women... h-have you beguiled like m-me?"

He almost laughed into your ass. Literally. If being called awful was the price for pleasuring the most beautiful woman in the lands, then Satoru would be happy to be that horrible person every day of his life.

But then, you suddenly shifted on top of him, no longer positioning your hips in his face, and he quickly caught your face, crashing his lips against yours so both of you wouldn’t part for even a second.

"Nobody else," he murmured, wet lips and tongue ravishing yours, so much lust glistening in his eyes. "I'm all yours— forever." Just as he whispered it amidst pants, he groaned when your hand sneakily went to his very hard length.

And firmly grasped it. He got swollen just by tasting you and hearing your noises earlier. He growled, and against his senses, he pushed you down to lodge it inside you, penetrating and splitting you apart in one go.

“Ah—! Satoru— it’s too…!” you babbled breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders, feeling his huge cock pulsing inside your tight walls.

“Your fault,” he rebuked, eyes narrowing into darker shades, rigorously moving his hips against yours as he sat up. It was impossible to hold it in any longer, he could feel it already.

He tensed up, adjusting his position, so close to losing it inside you, and when he heard your dirty mewls and felt you shudder—reverberating through his body too—Satoru gripped your waist tighter, groaning, holding you in place to release his load inside you with precision.

Your body gave in as well, releasing at the same moment his cum burst inside you. Your vision blurred as the nastiest of moans escaped you, yet you felt so safe as your husband caught you in his arms.

. . .

"Are you okay?" Satoru asked worriedly after you rolled off him in the aftermath of your bliss. "Do you feel sick?" Your unfocused eyes met his, and he looked panicked, pulling you closer. "Shit, did I go too far? I shouldn't have, especially with the baby still in the early stages..."

"I'm... okay," you croaked, trying to reassure him. "Just tired..."

Heaving a relieved sigh, Satoru pecked you in the lips.

"Am I... a mess?" you leaned on him with a blissful smile, feeling his cum still trickling out between your legs.

"Yeah... My beautiful mess, that is." Satoru chuckled, reveling in the state of your disarray. "Soon enough," his hands traced your skin before settling on your tummy, a fond smile curving his lips. "Our baby will grow here."

"Yes—" you replied, placing your palm over his. "Do you... want a boy or girl?"

A boy would be the much sought-after prince, and you fully expected him to favor it, until to your surprise, Satoru lightly hummed and pressed a kiss on your belly button.

"Does that matter? What's important is you deliver them safely and they're healthy," he chuckled. "A princess will be nice... she'll turn out to be as lovely as you."

"But the heir has to be a prince..."

"Nah. I can always amend the succession norms. I'm the emperor."

And you giggled next. Seeing how free you looked, Satoru thought you were the woman overturning his skies and stars, and you truly are—as now you are the mother of his own flesh and blood, his future empire.

There will be a nation-wide celebration for you. Satoru insisted it was a must, and he would invite dignitaries from neighboring empires and kingdoms as well.

Including the Eastern Empire.

. . .

“Your Majesty. I... bring a gift and an invitation from the Western Empire.”

Naoya clacked his heel on the carpet, casting a sharp, yet uninterested look at his aide.

“There will be a celebration for—” the poor man gulped uneasily, faltering as if he could foresee how his emperor would react. Naoya scowled.

“Spit it out.”

“The former empress’ pregnancy, Your Majesty!”

“What...?” At that moment, he snapped his head towards him. It felt like everything he had ever known came crashing down. “Y/N...?”

That can’t be possible. For many years both of you had failed. That was why he took that maid and divorced you. No, upon reflection, it was never truly his intention to divorce you—he had wanted you to raise that child if you couldn't bear one.

But then you completely ignored him and had an affair with Gojo Satoru. He was furious. He couldn't bear the disgrace of it all, so he went with the divorce, if only to assert some control. However, the joke was on him, as you ultimately fled with Gojo entirely.

But if you aren’t infertile... Then, what did that make him?

Numerous thoughts ran through his mind. Was it possible that it was his child instead of Gojo’s? How many months had it been anyway?

...or could it be that he is the one who is—!

“No...” he muttered, frantic, taking sharp breaths. “Absolute rubbish!”

The aide stared at him in fear, as Naoya appeared unhinged now. But soon, that fear gave away to pity, as the emperor trashed his desk and howled in frustration— but contrary to the expected fury, Naoya looked like he was mourning, evident by the way he flung everything but the very portrait from his coronation day.

Of him and you. Even after that disastrous divorce, he had never taken it down from the wall of his study. Now, Naoya was staring at it, a multitude emotions clouding his eyes.

This man, just as the aide had always thought, has thrown away the only good thing he has in his life.

“Are the invitations sent already?” Satoru asked with a blooming smile, rolling the yarn out of his cat’s reach as the poor kitty grappled to catch it. “And how are the preparations going?”

“Banquets are usually handled by the Empress, but you really go out of your way and do it instead,” Suguru shook his head, unamused by the added workload it brought him, especially considering his disinterest in festivities.

“They’re all sent, some of them responded—before you ask, Naoya hasn’t— and I’ve cascaded the preparation to Shoko, since I have no clue what to do about it.”

“Well, not that I care if he’s going to stay sour and wants his name tarnished in the daily papers as a bitter ex-husband…” Satoru shrugged, petting Sugu-chan as the cat purred contentedly. “He is tactless, he very well might be.”

“You really want to spite him, don’t you…” Suguru sighed. “You even sent him a note. It was unnecessary.”

“He was the one hurling curses at me and my empress first. I’m just returning the favor.”

The note in question was of lines after lines of flowery nonsense about gratitude and whatnot. Satoru imagined Naoya's vein would burst after reading his card.

“I’m happy for you, Satoru.” As exasperated as Suguru was, his smile was genuine when he said it. “A royal baby, huh...”

"Suguru." The emperor's voice suddenly dropped an octave, surprising him. "What about the placement of the totem I told you the other day?"

The abrupt shift in conversation made Suguru visibly uncomfortable, and again, they were back to this topic.

"You're seriously going to do this?" the duke asked, almost in disbelief. "Satoru, you're going to become a father. You have everything already. This will lead to war one way or another, and—what if the Empress finds out? How do you think it'll make her feel?"

However, Satoru's gaze was cold as he dismissed most of Suguru's tirade. There was a chill in his expression that made his longtime friend inwardly questioned who the man before him was.

"I'm asking you. Have you done it or not, Suguru?"

"You're going to put a curse on a whole village, Satoru."

"I told Zen'in Naoya the moment I got Y/N, that it would mark the beginning of his downfall. I'm making good on that promise."

Suguru pressed his eyes shut to calm his fury. Morally, what Satoru did was wrong, but politically, this was the art of war. Suguru purely opposed to this out of consideration for you.

Few understood Satoru's actions as well as Suguru did. He might understand, others like you and Shoko wouldn't.

"Just remember, when the Empress catches wind of this, she's going to resent you," Suguru warned. "No matter what your reasoning might be."

Satoru's upper lip curled upwards, his eyes bereft of light, narrowing with indifference.

"Unless you never tell her, that is of no relevance."

Love... has he ever loved you all this time?

Naoya had never been confronted with that question or pondered it, simply because he never considered love existed within the context of something as grand as monarchy.

You were chosen because you were well-bred and well-versed in the arts of nobility. You were indeed the epitome of an ideal empress, a fact evident throughout your tenure.

But...

"Naoya!" you yelled at him and caught his hand. "You're a fool! Why did you keep doing that!?"

It was a long-buried memory, when you were still in your teens, around the time you were just made the crown princess. His hands, bruised and bloodied, and you tended to them.

"I'm not weak, you know," he sullenly barked. "I have to train to be stronger."

"You definitely have to train, yes... but you have to take breaks!" you retorted angrily.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" he snapped back. "It's not like your hands that are injured."

And that moment, you were suddenly almost in tears. Naoya never understood why.

"Don't cry." But his instincts told him to make you not cry. "Don't cry. I'm fine, see?"

. . .

Zen'in Naoya jerked awake from his slumber, realizing he had forgotten what his dream was, that it was still the late afternoon, and he was still in his study.

All he felt was that nostalgic feeling, and it intensified when he glanced up... only to see his coronation portrait on the wall.

It was almost as if you were still here. You were incredibly stunning, he had to admit that. Why hadn’t he realized until just recently?

The way your crimson dress flowed out, and that thin, serene smile on your face... you were a picture-perfect empress, and that was not an exaggeration. No one could measure up to you—

"Your Majesty~!"

Especially not Hanabi.

"Your Majesty, the princess has started holding her head up!" Hanabi, now no longer dressed in rags but rather in one of your dresses, excitedly remarking, "Soon, she will start to—"

Naoya's gaze fell on her dress. He recognized it instantly. That specific deep, vibrant shade of red with serpent-like waistband. It was one of his gifts to you for your birthday. "Why are you wearing that?"

"Huh?" she seems perplexed. "Oh this... I thought it looks pretty..."

But to her surprise, he suddenly flared with fury. "That isn't yours, you dullard," he spat out.

Her expression sank in heartbreak as he continued with his venomous speech. "Know your place." His words cut like a blade. "And I keep telling you, a princess is of no use to the throne!"

Hanabi fought to hold back the tears, because not only had he insulted her, worse still, he showed no interest in their daughter. "She is still of your blood, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice trembling.

"I told you, I only want a heir." His sneer caused her eyes to widen in shock. "Other than that, I won't care."

"Your Majesty, please—" Hanabi was desperate for him to acknowledge their daughter, when she caught sight of your ethereal face on the wall.

He still hasn't taken it down. It made her eyes twitch, and her own anger to rise.

"The former empress..." she stared at your picture resentfully. "You still have her here. We never even have our portraits painted..."

Naoya's icy gaze leveled at her without a hint of sympathy, despite the woman standing before him being the mother of his child.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Hanabi asked, tears spilling from her eyes. "You used to care for me when you thought I would bear you a son. Even if it's a daughter, she deserves love too, doesn't she?"

In the last five years, she had come to know that the emperor wasn't always this manic person. He used to be gentler, or at least not as vindictive.

And she never truly wanted you to be cast away like that. She looked up to you, admired you from up close, and meant it when she said she would carry your legacy as best as she could.

"Are you dumb?" Naoya barked. "I told you to know your place!"

...yet why? Why are people in this palace so harsh to her?

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi. Beware, the emperor is fickle…”

Your unkind eyes, Naoya's disdainful stares even after she gave birth to his child... She didn't even care about becoming the empress anymore. She just wanted a happy life!

"If it was the former empress' child... even if it was a princess..." Hanabi turned to him with determination even amidst her pitiful tears. "You wouldn't cast her aside just like you do now with my daughter, would you, Your Majesty?"

Naoya's gaze, devoid of emotion and filled with blatant disinterest more than anything, shot through her, hurting her more than if it was filled with fury instead.

The lack of warmth in his stare made her feel like being looked through rather than being seen. As if she is that insignificant.

"Leave," he ordered coldly next, turning his back on her.

And there is her answer.

Hanabi had been your maid for five long years. She knew who you were, what you stood for, and your whole demeanor. Yet, despite her best efforts, she could never emulate you in the same way, could she?

. . .

"My lady... don't you know that the former empress is with child?"

Once again, Hanabi felt the sting of ice when her lady-in-waiting delivered the news.

"Empress... Y/N?" she whispered. "How...?"

You were stripped of your titles here, and yet you still remained a queen somewhere else. Hanabi might have won Naoya's favor, but now she was losing it while you had another emperor's affection.

Not much had changed about you. You still occupied the highest seat a woman could possibly attain. Whereas she...

"But she is barren!" she turned to her confidant then, almost in disbelief.

"Evidently not. Emperor Gojo has proven that."

How nice. A part of Hanabi wanted to congratulate you because she knew of your sufferings—how much you longed to hold a baby from your womb in your arms.

How unfair... But another part of her couldn't help but despise you. Because even in your absence, she still had to live in your shadow. Because you, who had lost everything, regained it all so easily.

"And my lady... Emperor Gojo is going to throw a banquet for this occasion next month. You are expected to attend it."

"Sweetheart, you asleep?"

One night, several weeks later, just as you were about to drift off to sleep, you felt the sheets shift as Satoru slipped into bed beside you.

Though you didn't turn to face him, you felt his warm hands wrap around your waist from behind.

"Satoru... you're back," you murmured sleepily.

"Mm-hmm," he whispered, pulling you closer to his chest and burying his face in your hair, taking in your scent. "Shoko told me you've been in your bedchamber since breakfast. Are you okay?"

"I get queasy if I walk too much, so I've been lying down all day... But don't worry, the physician said it's normal in early stages of pregnancy."

His grip on you tightened, as he caressed your belly. "Hmm, naughty baby. I'm sorry I wasn't here..."

"Where were you?"

For days now, he had been away, and you hadn't really questioned him. You had your guesses though—

"I was overseeing the construction of a new pagoda," he said softly, kissing your neck. "For you, actually."

That was so unexpected that it made you open your eyes fully. "What— for me?" Building pagoda was definitely not a small affair. Usually it was for religious purposes.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby. It's expected to be completed before your celebration banquet."

The tower would be the testament of his love for you and your unborn child. Despite yourself, your heart swelled with overwhelming warmth.

"You're so silly... why do you spend the tax funds for that?" you brushed off the faint heat in your face, not daring to look at him still.

"Whatever I wouldn't do for you?" he cheekily retorted, chuckling.

You had never felt this cherished before, and this time you were certain—you were more than ready to fall in love with this man.

But he... is planning to use you, isn't he?

"Satoru." You shuffled to turn and face him, causing him to crack his lidded eyes open. You gazed at him, placing both of your hands on his face, caressing his face softly.

You're so kind to me. I appreciate you for that. You wanted to tell him various things, but the darkness in your heart ever since overhearing his exchange with Suguru made it hard for you to do so.

"Mm? What is it?" he drawled with a small smile, leaning into your touch.

“You... love me, don't you?”

His bright eyes found yours then, sharp and steady. An impossibly fond smile graced his lips, as if finding what you said the most natural thing there was.

“Throughout heaven and earth,” he proclaimed, his voice steady to match his eyes. “Yes, my queen.”

...then you would trust him, if only just for this moment. The genuine sincerity in his eyes, the raw authenticity in his words... it all felt too real.

And so, even when you were well-aware of the bitter possibility of truth, you leaned in and kissed him, giving yourself to his touch as his hand slipped inside you.

And soon, came the day of the lavish banquet solely held to celebrate your pregnancy.

You were seated on your throne, dressed in a stunning aquamarine gown. The skirt of the dress was full and flowing, spilling onto the floor in a waterfall of shimmering fabric. Upon your head perched your crown of diamonds, glinting beneath the light, and your ceremonial veil to make you look as queenly as you could possibly be.

Everyone would agree that you were a sight to behold, and that you were worthy of every praise possible.

"Many congratulations to you, Your Majesty."

"This is a splendid news! A royal baby!"

"To think that the emperor has settled down... sniff, how long have we been waiting for this...? We almost gave up."

You almost giggled at the way Archbishop Yaga wiped his tears with a handkerchief as he presented you with his gift.

Despite your initial reservations, you enjoyed the festivities more than you expected. You had opposed the idea at first, finding it quite unnecessary, but Satoru had pouted for three long days until you eventually relented to appease him.

Speaking of him, he was equally dressed to impress, looking every bit as an emperor he was in an exquisite aquamarine military uniform and robes. Despite engaging in conversation with Earl Nanami, he kept a watchful eye on you, stealing glances in your direction to ensure you were well.

You nodded at him, and he threw you a wink. You smiled.

Everything was truly going well... until the herald announced:

"Prince Megumi and Royal Consort Hanabi from Eastern Empire!"

There was suddenly a hush over the crowd as the two made their entrance. You stilled, looking at the figure responsible for your checkered life—

Hanabi was starkly different since the last you saw her at the courthouse during your divorce. Her dress was now a vibrant shade of burgundy red, reminiscent of a gown you once wore. Gone was her air of humility, replaced by a display of extravagance befitting a noblewoman.

She is no longer your maid, but Naoya's consort. There was no trace of the woman who once served you. You were actually impressed, as she could actually shape herself into the image of a royal consort.

"Empress." However, your attention quickly shifted to Naoya's nephew, and once also your ward, Megumi, as he bowed before you respectfully. "Congratulations."

A fond smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you regarded the young prince who had once been a very shy individual. It reminded you of the days spent with him just to get him out of his shell.

"Thank you, Megumi."

"Diamonds suit you far better than golds do. I wish only for the best for you, Your Majesty."

It warmed your heart, really. Using that reference to your gold crown from your time in the Eastern Empire, you could see how much Megumi truly understood your position and bore no resentment towards you.

Could the same be said for Naoya though?

Right after you received his gift—an ornate box that seemed oddly familiar to you—Hanabi suddenly blurted out:

"So, fate has smiled upon you. Congratulations Empress Y/N." She kept that soft, meaningful smile on her face as she offered her felicitations.

Ever since her arrival was announced, something about her demeanor had bothered you. There was a subtle emptiness that seemed to linger in her gaze.

"Thank you," you responded, and that was when you noticed it. There was never any celebration for the birth of her daughter and Naoya, only a passing announcement.

And so, you added. "Congratulations on the birth of the princess too."

You could have sworn her expression fell for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure and bowed her head to you.

For a while, you lost sight of her in the crowd, feeling quite comfortable in your dais. Soon after, Satoru returned to your side, and the herald announced:

"Attention! His Majesty the Emperor's gift for Her Majesty the Empress!"

You looked at Satoru questioningly, and he gave you a dashing smirk before turning to the crowd.

"Thank you, all of you, for joining us to celebrate this joyous occasion." The way he carried himself and the sheer confidence he exuded was mesmerizing, you couldn't deny how it made you swoon. "I've been infamous for many things, and I'm sure the tales have spread far and wide. So please, allow me one more gesture with you as the witnesses."

The crowd giggled at his words, and you finally spotted Hanabi among them, quietly assessing the scene.

Your husband turned to you, a soft smile on his face.

"This is for you my empress— my lovely queen. Words can't describe how elated I am to know that now you bear our child." He took your hand and pressed a kiss on it. "And it's only fitting that I praise you along with the skies and the stars."

A footman arrived and presented a pearly box. Satoru opened it, revealing a necklace inside. The centerpiece was a large, flawless diamond surrounded by smaller, perfectly cut stones of the same kind. No matter how you saw it, it was truly a work of art, meant to captivate and dazzle anyone who laid eyes on it.

You let out a gasp. "This..."

Satoru grinned, picking up the jewelry and preparing to place it on you. "Nothing much. Just a little trinket for you."

"This is not just a 'little trinket'!"

Your banter elicited another round of snickers from the audience as Satoru fastened the necklace around your neck. The moment he did, the crowd erupted into applause.

"Actually, my real gift is the new pagoda in the royal gardens, built in honor of the Empress," Satoru stated effortlessly, grinning unabashedly. "Feel free to stop by later, everyone."

To the ton, for him to gift you with something so sacred was the height of extravagance. Some of them wondered how you had managed to turn the elusive emperor into someone so devoted to you.

And a few... might be harboring ill will against you for it.

. . .

Later that night, you were sorting through the gifts you had received throughout the day.

"I don't understand, why would you give an expecting woman this?" Shoko picked apart a manuscript that was the gift from Archbishop Yaga. "Who would read this?"

"I wouldn't, but I'm sure Duke Geto would," you replied, and soon the two of you were giggling together.

From jewelry to ornaments, you were pleased with all the gifts presented by the guests from day one. While most were given out of formality, it was heartwarming to imagine your baby seeing all these someday.

Your attention soon turned to the box Megumi handed you earlier—Naoya's gift.

You were intrigued, because what could your spiteful ex-husband could possibly give you? And you immediately reached over to open the lid to find...

"What's that?" Shoko asked as your eyes widened in slight surprise.

Inside the box was an intricate gold and ruby necklace. One you knew well. The very one you wore during your coronation as the Empress of the Eastern Empire.

Years ago, Naoya himself had chosen this piece for you, and now he was gifting it to you, again?

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

Reliving years of your marriage with him wasn't easy. You two were childhood sweethearts, and had been happy in the beginning. You couldn't pinpoint when things began to fall apart, but suddenly Naoya turned into such a person you didn't recognize altogether.

Seeing this relic made you nostalgic, and before you realized it, you touched it, trying to get a better look—

"Ah—!"

Suddenly, a sharp, unexpected pain shot through your abdomen. You instantly dropped the jewelry, letting it crash to the ground, and clutched your lower belly.

"Empress! What happened?!" Shoko rushed to your side in an instant, holding you up, and you whimpered.

"It hurts—!" Your breath hitched, as a seemingly invisible knife gutted you from inside. The intensity of the pain was overwhelming, leaving you gasping for breath. "Shoko, please—"

And before you could even scream or think, the pain blindsided you and your vision titled, before blacking out completely.

First came the warmth, then a reassuring squeeze on your hand. As your consciousness returned, you felt groggy, with your surroundings sharpening into focus.

The first thing that became your main focus the moment your eyes fluttered open was Satoru's face, a mixture of fright and relief etched across his features.

"You're awake..." He breathlessly muttered, sitting on your bedside, interlacing his fingers with yours. "How do you feel?"

"Sa...toru..." your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, and as soon as he heard you speak, he exhaled sharply, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Heavens, I—" he let out a long sigh, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm so glad... you are..."

"What h-happened to me...?" you were feeling feverish and a dull throb was pounding at the back of your head, before the shock of it all dawned on you. "B-baby...! Our—!"

"Baby is okay too, don't worry," Satoru assured, pulling away from you to gently touch your cheek and squeeze your hand. "Both of you are fine for now..."

The horror that you might lose your baby shook you to the very core. Your vision blurred with the threatening onset of tears.

"Wh-at happened to me, Satoru...?" you asked again as he wiped your first falling tears, your heartbeat sounding so loud in your ears. "I-I was just..."

His expression took on a sudden shift, as if a dark cloud had passed over his face.

"You came into contact with a cursed object," he stated, his eyes hard as he locked onto yours. "You were cursed, Y/N."

"What...?" You were rendered speechless, feeling your body starting to shake. Cursed object? Your past coronation necklace?

Naoya was trying to curse you?

"It's okay, I'm here now, yeah?" Satoru's voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, grounding you in the present. "Look at me. Hey, look at me." he repeated, his deep blue eyes locking onto yours with intensity.

“I’m here. I’m here with you. Nothing—absolutely nothing—will touch you so long as I’m here.”

But in that moment, your mind was so overwhelmed with fear for yourself and your unborn baby that you couldn't fully grasp the magnitude of the mess unfolding before you, and you just cried in his arms.

Feeling your feeble fingers fisting his robes and your inconsolable tears staining his collar, Satoru gritted his teeth.

“This won't happen again,” he whispered into your hair, feeling his rage simmering as he felt the tremors of your sobs against his chest. “I swear, I won't let anything like this happen again.”

To Satoru, that was more than enough to justify all his subsequent actions. Putting a curse on his empress essentially amounted to an act of beginning a war.

And it also meant he no longer had to operate behind the scenes.

“Keep them in Clock Tower. No contact. Only food and water at designated times.”

Satoru's icy gaze on the captain of royal guard compelled him to hastily comply with the order, before his eyes landing on the map of the entire continent.

In response to the incident that befell you, he issued orders for open hostility along the eastern and western borders. Soon after, he would formally declare his intention to go to war.

So close. He was so close to achieving his end goal.

. . .

"Satoru!"

Several days later, Suguru burst into his study, visibly outraged. He clenched his fists, looking as if he was about to throttle him altogether.

"You—" he heaved a harsh breath. "You have gone too far!"

"What are you talking about, Suguru?"

"Is cursing the entire winery village not enough for you?" This was the first time Suguru had been this furious with him. "Did you really have to massacre the neighboring district as well?!"

"They have placed a curse on my empress." It was so easy for him to say it. "Anyone who dares to harm her shall die."

"You can direct it at Zen'in Naoya! Not the innocent civilians!"

Satoru remained silent, neither shaken nor enraged, and he had finally had enough.

“Are you even sure it’s because the empress is cursed?" Suguru challenged. In his view, this farce had been going on too long.

“No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You were informed, days later.

“His Majesty has placed the prince and royal consort of the Western Empire under strict watch in Clock Tower.”

Clock Tower was essentially the prison where they kept war criminals. Learning that Satoru had confined both Megumi and Hanabi there left you aghast.

After some days of bedrest and getting better, you realized that the entire situation still didn't make sense to you. As hateful as Naoya was, harming you would do him more harm than good. Eastern and Western Empires stood evenly matched in military power, and hence, a conflict between them would bring devastation to both sides.

And moreover, you knew for sure was that Megumi was definitely not the one responsible for this. He was just a boy!

You had to let him out somehow. You had to talk to Satoru about this.

Or at least that was what you thought when you came close to his study.

“Are you even sure it's because the empress is cursed? No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You stopped on your tracks—stunned into place, to be exact.

“And you’ve struck gold when she did because her influence will provide you with greater advantage.” Suguru scoffed then, lightly shaking his head with a sneer. “Love? How laughable. All these years, you are planning your warpath, how could you claim you love her when you're trying to ravage her homeland without even considering the impact it would have on her?”

It felt like whiplash. Geto Suguru's voice had your feet rooted to the spot, causing all your doubts to resurface and sizzle in an instant. The very question you had tried to avoid, it was suddenly shoved in your face.

What... will Satoru say? Your heart thumped so loud in your ears it made you almost stagger. He couldn't possibly. He simply couldn't. All his actions... they reflected his affection for you and you believed it because you felt it yourself too.

But Satoru's next response was—

“Even when she is derided as the devil, I will bring an end to the Zen’in line in this lifetime.”

And a part of your heart withers then.

The tips of your fingers trembled, finally taking in everything that you had tried to ignore for the past few weeks. It all caught up to you in one overwhelming rush.

Suddenly, it felt as if something inside your chest was torn out and held up for you to see.

"I'm telling you, that day will come sooner than you think, Satoru." Suguru's voice broke through, his frustration palpable. His words snapped you out of your reverie, and you took a step back, retreating to the safety of your study.

The first time you felt utter hollowness wrecking you was when you had suspected that Naoya might have taken Hanabi to his bed. The feelings overwhelming you now were eerily similar to how you felt back then.

You had used him first, and if he used you in return... you couldn't fault him.

But isn't it still a bitter truth, even when a mutual transaction is very well within his rights, to know that what you believe as love may apparently not really be the case?

Love... of course, he loves you.

Of that, he was certain.

But at the same time… he had his ambitions.

Destroying the Eastern Empire. Was it so wrong that he wanted it?

Didn't you want this as well? After all, Naoya had spurned you for a lowly servant.

Satoru strolled through the halls and made his way to your study, where the sight of you, so pretty and regal in your seat, greeted him.

His beautiful, graceful wife and empress of his nation. For so long, he had desired you, and now here you were, perched within his walls. His heart couldn't be more full— his life is complete already.

"Sweetheart, hey... how are you feeling today?" an adoring grin was visible on his face as he approached you. "Does the baby give you trouble today?"

You didn't answer though, and didn't look at him either. It was quite strange, Satoru thought.

"What's wrong? Is there something—" And when you finally turned to him, the look in your eyes was so eerily cold it almost gave him a chill.

"Release Megumi from your dungeon," you told him with a strained tone. "And return him to his home country."

The smile on Satoru's face vanished that instant.

"I can't do that."

You rose from your seat, facing him. "He is just a child."

"That child you speak about is a prince of the Eastern Empire. He has committed a great crime against you." Satoru regarded you with a stern look.

“Naoya didn’t do it.” Your steely gaze was unflinching. “He might be senseless, but he isn’t insane enough to deliberately go into a war he might possibly lose.”

Satoru's eyes darkened at your words, as you stood before him with determination. The way you were so adamant somehow took him aback. “How... could you defend him? He has wronged you!”

It was one question you had expected, and you had the answer ready.

“Even if he has, I could never wish doom upon my own homeland, Satoru. I’ve lived most of my life there, I did a great deal of things there— even if you harbor some sort of misguided contempt or just bloodthirsty enough to lay ruin to Eastern Empire, I refuse to be the puppet for your schemes!”

There it was. You had said it. Everything would crumble once again just like your previous marriage.

Satoru was staring at you in slight disbelief, his eyes gleamed with something that you couldn't really pinpoint. Anger? Disappointment?

“Your life was in danger, as was our unborn child’s. Don’t you care about that—!” he actually had to stop to catch his breath. “Don’t you care that our child nearly didn't make it?”

“And? You must have thought it was the perfect grounds for declaring a war?” but you didn’t relent and questioned him with a scoff. “And afterwards, you would try to use me to gain defectors from Eastern Empire, is that it?”

You saw the flash of surprise in your now-husband's eyes right when you recited his words, but you weren't about to hold back any longer now.

“Now you’re using my safety to justify your actions,” you hissed, feeling like suddenly you understood what all of this was. “You’re quite cunning, Satoru. I’ve heard everything—you will do anything to bring an end to the Zen'in lineage! You won’t even consider the repercussions of my reputation being tarnished across the lands!”

“Is that even important now?” Satoru gritted his teeth to suppress his irritation. “You have been cursed. Do you honestly think I would let them get away with cursing my empress? How could I, who seek to protect you, be more vicious than whoever in Eastern Empire who cursed you with that necklace?”

“You’re doing this for your personal gratification!” you exclaimed. “It is never about me. You’re just a warmonger!”

The moment those words left your lips, Satoru stilled. His gaze on you faltered, and you could’ve sworn hurt flashed in his face.

“Just how low… is your opinion of me?” he asked, his tone dropping, eyes devoid of emotion. “You jump into conclusions only after overhearing something in a passing and yet you know for sure Naoya wouldn’t harm you—” he clenched his jaw.

“You… really loved him, don’t you?” he asked with a sardonic smile. “I know it already. You won’t ever be able to do the same for me. You can’t even trust me.”

You were rendered speechless. Despite your doubts of him, hearing this still felt like a slap in your face.

Won’t be able to do the same for him? No. That’s not true. You were—

Satoru let out a defeated laugh and ran his hand through his hair, leaving you uncertain whether he was amused or heartbroken by your lack of response.

“It’s funny, how I have loved you for so long... but apparently the woman I believed to have even a semblance of affection for me doesn’t even exist.”

It felt like that one part of you that was capable of feeling love had been stabbed once again.

To say this out loud hurt you deeply, unbeknownst to him. “In the end, we’re just using each other. That’s all we are.”

Satoru bitterly snorted, finding your accusation deeply unfair to him.

“How cruel is it that I’m the only one who has to prove this love to you? What about you? You’re terribly, horribly selfish!”

You stayed silent, looking away, caught between the scorching knives that seemed to twist your heart and conflicting emotions in it, uncertain of what to believe anymore. And you didn't really know what heartbreak was like before—

"It has been really tiring, and I don’t want to bother anymore.”

When his gaze next met yours, dark and piercing, you realized he was no longer the same man who once promised you love and devotion.

“You're free to believe whatever truth you wish. But remember, even if you are my wife and the empress of this nation, should you commit any transgressions… I won’t hesitate to accuse you of treason, Empress.”

You have committed treason.

Satoru had conducted investigation of the sorts just to prove his point. And yet days later, no direct evidence pointing towards Megumi or Hanabi were found in that cursed necklace.

Punishment for treason is imminent death. You were well-aware of that more than anyone, but your consciousness wouldn't allow it if Megumi had to be hanged due to Satoru's antagonism.

"Your Majesty, your kindness knows no bounds," Megumi said, dropping to one knee before you and lowering his head in the throne room. Satoru had chosen not to grace any of you with his presence, leaving you alone to bid farewell to both Megumi and Hanabi.

Since then, you hadn't spoken with him, nor had he visited your chambers. It was as if he considered you nonexistent at all.

And it is really only a matter of time before he finds out.

But at the very least, you were right. It was never Megumi. That boy was fond of you, he could never. So, you shifted your gaze on the woman next to him.

"Royal Consort Hanabi. A word."

It was the cue for everyone else to exit the throne room. Now, you were faced with this woman once again, and yet one thing remained the same— you were still towering over her.

"Why did you do it?" Your calm gaze betrayed a quiet anger that was unmistakably clear. All because of this woman. It was beyond you, how despite having left your past life behind, she had somehow managed to taint your new one as well.

Hanabi looked away, a hint of shame coloring her features. "Your Majesty knows, so why do you spare me?" she asked quietly.

"How preposterous of you to think that I have spared you," you scoffed. "All this time, have you learned nothing at all from standing by Naoya's side?"

She flinched, visibly making herself smaller at your unforgiving tone, still, she dared herself to meet your eyes.

"Can I ask... why you never consider it as Emperor Naoya's doing?" she seemed more confused more than anything, even as her lips wobbled. "The two of you... you don't really hate each other, so why...?"

You didn't want to dwell on why Naoya had chosen that specific piece of jewelry to return to you. If anything, you'd consider it his final parting gift and be done with it.

But the naivety of this woman was astounding. Someone like her wouldn't last long in your seat. You let out a sigh, torn between feeling sorry for her or not.

"You have much to learn about court affairs, Hanabi. And do not think this is an act of mercy. Sending you back to Naoya is a punishment in itself—you know that by now."

Hanabi trembled where she stood, her breaths were shallow, and her hands shook slightly as she struggled to maintain composure in your presence.

Realizing it was futile to continue the conversation, you decided to conclude it.

"Know that I will never forgive you for what you have done to me." Your sharp eyes squared on her, the cold ire in your tone making her shudder. "And when Satoru comes to know, he will definitely come for you as well."

In all the years Hanabi had known you, you had never appeared more fearsome than you did now, adorned in silks of deep blue hues, with that crown of diamonds gleaming in your head.

Then, as if sealing her fate, you delivered these parting words:

"You've always coveted what I have, and sooner or later, that will be your downfall."

The palace felt suffocating for you. After sending Hanabi away, you took a walk in the gardens, followed closely by your ladies-in-waiting.

Good heavens, what have you done? You definitely didn't regret saving Megumi, but no matter how, you had committed a great crime against your own empire. A sentence would loom over your head!

And what about your baby? Would Satoru execute you while you still had his child inside you?

The very thought made your vision tilt, and you had to lean on the wall for support. Your ladies-in-waiting were immediately clamoring against each other.

"Leave," you commanded, trying to catch your breath while doing so. "I'll… take some time to rest here."

It took you a moment to realize you had reached the pagoda that Satoru had commissioned for you. This was your first time visiting it. The structure was magnificent, towering in height and adorned with exquisite decorations, leaving you in awe.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby."

You wanted to cry. His voice, soft and smooth, conveyed those words so easily to you. He really loved you, didn't he? What made you so unsure about that undeniable fact?

And now you had broken his heart.

Your hand reached for your belly. Though hidden by your dress, you could distinctly feel that it had become firmer these days, holding the product of your love with Satoru. So small...

"I'm sorry, baby..." you whispered, heartbroken. "I didn't mean to drag you into this too..."

You felt nauseous, your breaths coming in short pants, and you felt a headache coming. It didn't really register to you that you had crashed into the candle table, before you collected yourself and ventured deeper inside.

You just wanted a sense of peace and quiet. You would think more later, and right now, the darkness inside felt like a comforting lull for you to rest.

. . .

Or at least that was what you had intended, until you looked back and saw the swirling inferno creeping through the halls.

It didn't take long for Satoru to figure out you had really orchestrated Megumi's release.

More than his wounded pride, it was the searing pain of realizing that you truly believed he was only using you for his own benefit. It felt like an insult to everything he had done for you.

Why couldn't you see that? Just how hard is it to understand?

And now that it had come to this... what did you expect from him? Should he really make good on his word and punish you? It tore his heart to even consider it. Did you think he was really capable of that too?

Amidst his heartache, suddenly he heard loud commotion from outside his study, yells and cries of help— and it roused him from his thoughts, only to come right into a familiar face.

"Anyone! Anyone at all!" your maid was sobbing and hysterical. "Her Majesty! Please help Her Majesty!"

"What is all of this ruckus?" Satoru demanded, catching the maid by the hand, as she stuttered in tears.

And then, everything came crashing down with the next words.

"The Empress— is trapped inside the burning tower!"

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⋆˚✿˖° ❝𝗜𝘁 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗱𝗲𝗱❞ ⋆˚✿˖°

YOU ARE A COUGAR

────୨ৎ────

Geto Suguru X Reader

Gojo Satoru X Reader

────୨ৎ────

₍^. .^₎⟆ Synopsis: In a world of curses and power struggles take center stage, you’ve always kept to the simple aspects of life. Focussing on your studies, your friendships and life in the dorms. Though everything changes when Geto challenges Gojo that he can’t win your heart and what happens when Geto realizes that Gojo needs to lose.

MASTERLIST

has it been a while since I updated this series? since getting back to canada from the philippines, being a responsible adult and working all the time means i only had time to post my little one shots. BUT I HAVE A FEW CHAPTERS ALREADY WRITTEN IM TRYING

₍^. .^₎⟆ The four of you stood in front of Principal Yaga’s desk, waiting for what was clearly going to be a Very Important Mission. Shoko looked like she was three seconds from falling asleep. Geto had his arms crossed, already preparing himself for whatever was about to come. You just stood there, waiting patiently. Gojo, on the other hand, was leaning back, hands in his pockets, already looking bored. “When was the last time we had a mission with all 4 of us? He knows if im here it doesn’t really matter ”

Yaga exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple like he was already losing braincells with having you all here. Then, with a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and spoke. “Your next assignment is training with the second and first years.”

“…That’s it?” you asked.

“That’s it,” Yaga confirmed.

Gojo blinked, then recoiled like he had just been physically assaulted by the information. “Training with the kids?!”

“Yes,” Yaga said, voice flat.

Gojo turned to Geto, grabbing his shoulders. “We’ve been set up.”

Geto sighed. “It does feel that way.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Gojo turned back to Yaga, waving his hands. “Why do we have to do this? We’re third years! Why are we suddenly getting stuck with mentor duty?”

Yaga crossed his arms. “Because you four have more experience, and they could benefit from learning from you.”

Shoko yawned. “Sounds fake, but okay.”

You tilted your head. “Wait… who exactly are we training with?”

“Nanami Kento and Haibara Yu.” Gojo groaned so loudly it echoed. “NOOOO?!”

“You wouldn’t know them,” Geto said looking towards you. “You’re always running off to other countries.”

Gojo threw his hands up. “Exactly! So why are we getting stuck with this?”

“Wouldnt that be a better reason? For Y/n to know more of the sorcerers?” Yaga deadpanned.

You crossed your arms. “I mean, how bad could it be?”

Gojo turned to you so fast it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash. “How bad could it be?!” He grabbed your shoulders, shaking you lightly. “You don’t understand! You weren’t here when we had to deal with Mei Mei treating us like free labor! You weren’t here when Utahime existed in front of us for five hours straight! We’ve been through too much!”

You blinked. “…It’s literally just training and we are the one that are in charge.”

“That’s what they want you to think!” Gojo hissed.

Yaga sighed, rubbing his temple. “Go now. Before I make you babysit panda.”

Geto grimaced. “Ugh. Let’s just get this over with.”

Gojo whined all the way out the door. “This is so unfair.”

Shoko started leaning on gojo and muttered, “We’re already suffering.”

You just shrugged. “Still don’t get what the big deal is.”

Gojo pointed at you, eyes wide. “You will.”

As the four of you walked away from Yaga’s office, Gojo was still pouting, muttering to himself. “This is so unfair,” he repeated, dramatically flicking his hair out of his eyes as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Honestly, how much can we possibly do with those second and first years?” Geto mumbled, clearly irritated but not as loud about it as Gojo.

You shrugged. “I still don’t see the big deal. We’ve all trained as underclassmen before.”

“It’s different when it’s you four!” Gojo whined, flailing his arms. “Do you know how many people would kill for a mission this week? And what do we get? Babysitting wit our other option ALSO being babysitting!”

Shoko, still unfazed,. “We’re not actually babysitting. You’re just dramatic.”

Gojo threw up his hands. “I’ll show you dramatic when I’m stuck with them! You know how I work, I need to be doing something, not sitting around listening to people talk about how to punch a curse!”

You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t help but smile. You were used to Gojo’s over the top complaints. Then, suddenly, Gojo stopped in his tracks and looked at you with wide eyes. “Wait.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He grinned mischievously, like a lightbulb had gone off in his head. “You!”

“…Me?” you asked, confused.

“Yes, you!” Gojo pointed at you, nearly poking your nose in the process. “You’ve got that magical power of yours, your insane ability to always be on missions! Maybe you can finally get us something good while we’re stuck playing teacher’s pet with the underclassmen!”

You blinked. “You do know I don’t have magical powers, right? Also gojo… do you have something wrong in the head? we’re literally walking there”

“Sure you do! It’s like the luck of the draw or something! You’re always out of the loop when it comes to stuff like this because you’re always on a mission or off somewhere else! That’s your power! You’re the best at missing things!” completely ignoring what you said.

“I don’t miss things on purpose…”

He ignored you completely, grabbing your arm. “You have to get a mission! I’m begging you. Please. Do whatever you have to do. I can’t be stuck with Nanami and Haibara for an entire week!”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at how frantic he was. “You’re really asking me to use my ‘powers’ to help you skip out of training with our underclassmen?”

“Yes!” Gojo practically fell to his knees in front of you, hands clasped together like he was praying. “Please, put me in your bag! Take me with you! I’ll do anything! I’ll even”

“No,” you interrupted, laughing harder. “I’m not dragging you around in a bag just to escape training. It’s not going to happen.”

Gojo groaned and flopped on the ground dramatically. “This is the worst.”

Geto rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m stuck with you two.”

Shoko just shook her head, exhaling smoke. “At least we can relax while they’re busy with the first years. You’ll be fine.”

Gojo lay on the floor with his arms splayed out. “I’ll never be fine again.”

₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆

The girls’ locker room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the overhead lights. You had just finished changing into your towel when it hit you you forgot your gym clothes.

“Seriously?!” you groaned, facepalming in frustration.

You quickly scanned the locker room, hoping to find something, anything, that could help. No luck. All your clothes were neatly folded in your bag, but… no workout gear. Shaking your head, you cursed under your breath. “Great. Just great. I’m going to look like a total mess today.”

But then, you remembered: Gojo. You knew the men’s locker room was just down the hall, and Gojo always kept a spare set of clothes for emergencies like this. Sure, you weren’t supposed to be in the men’s locker room, but he was your best friend. You’d shared stuff since you were kids, this was nothing new. Without hesitation, you marched over to the door to the men’s locker room. You knocked loudly, pounding your fist on the wood like your life depended on it. “Gojo!” you yelled, voice echoing through the hallway. “Gojo! You in there? I need your spare workout clothes!”

You waited a beat. Nothing. You knocked harder, this time adding a few choice words for emphasis. “Gojo! Are you seriously going to leave me stranded here? Come on, I’m not asking for much! Just some spare clothes!”

Still no response. You leaned your forehead against the door, muttering to yourself. “He better not be napping in there or I swear”

BANG! You gave the door one last solid knock, pushing all your frustration into it. “GOJO!!!”

Finally, the door creaked open just enough to reveal a disheveled Gojo, still half dressed in his gym gear, “What?!” he groaned, clearly not thrilled with the interruption.

“Don’t give me that look!” you shot back. “I need your spare clothes. You’re the only one who comes prepared for this kind of stuff.”

Gojo sighed dramatically and ran a hand through his hair. “you crazy lady why am I the prepared one,” he grumbled, pulling a pair of athletic shorts and a plain shirt from his bag. “If it were anyone else, I’d say no. You’ve got some nerve showing up at my door like this.”

You smiled at him sweetly. “You do this for me.”

“Don’t get cocky.” Gojo handed over the clothes with an exaggerated flourish. “Here. Don’t mess them up, okay?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the one who would be messing up your stuff.”

Gojo leaned against the doorframe, looking far too pleased with himself. “Just remember, I’m a generous guy. And you owe me one now.”

“Oh, please,” you muttered, taking the clothes from him. “Like I’d ever forget you gave me your old stuff.”

Gojo grinned smugly, hands on his hips. “Exactly. You’ll remember this every time you put them on. Now go change and don’t take forever. We’ve got training to do.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned and made your way back to the girls’ locker room, a sense of relief washing over you as you got ready to train. You didn’t even mind that Gojo always seemed to find a way to be both annoying and helpful at the same time. It was just so him.

Though on the Inside the men’s locker room during your knocking crusade, the usual pre training bustle was happening. Gojo and Geto were leaning against lockers, talking about a really annoying bug called utahime. Haibara was rummaging through his bag, searching for his gym shoes, while Nanami stood at the mirror looking at himself.

Gojo, as always, was the first to notice anything out of the ordinary. He smirked and leaned back, eyes hidden behind his blindfold. “You hear that?” he asked, half smiling.

“Knocking?” Geto murmured, looking up from his phone with a raised eyebrow. He wasn’t nearly as fazed by the interruption as Gojo, but he was intrigued nonetheless.

Haibara, hearing the louder than usual knocking, looked over his shoulder. “Is someone outside? Should we check?”

Gojo tilted his head, pretending to consider it before giving a dismissive wave. “Nah, it’s probably nothing. Maybe some cursed spirit knocked on the wrong door. If it were a real emergency, they’d just barge in, right?” Geto rolled his eyes but didn’t look away from his phone. “If someone’s knocking on that door this loudly, it’s definitely not just a mistake.”

The knocking grew more persistent, and then a familiar voice echoed through the room, sending a shiver of realization through everyone. “Gojo! Are you in there? I need your spare workout clothes!”

There was a moment of stunned silence. “Wait a second ” Gojo’s smile widened, a mischievous glint flashing behind his blindfold. “That voice…”

“She’s seriously knocking on the men’s locker room?” Haibara asked, blinking in confusion. He knew you well enough from your shared missions but never thought he’d be hearing you demand clothes from Gojo in such an… unusual way.

“It’s just her,” Gojo said, still grinning. “give me a moment”

Nanami, who had been silently adjusting his uniform, frowned. “hmmm.” He glanced between Haibara and Geto. “Should we do something about it?”

Geto just shrugged, clearly more used to Gojo’s antics by now. “Nah. She’s been doing this kind of thing for years. She and Gojo have no boundaries.”

Haibara snickered under his breath. “I didn’t realize that was a thing…”

Gojo let out a loud sigh as the knocking continued, growing more desperate now. “Gojo!!! I need your spare clothes!”

Haibara couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst out laughing. “Does this happen often?”

Geto raised an eyebrow, his face a picture of nonchalance. “More times than you’d think.”

Nanami sighed, crossing his arms. “She really knows how to make an entrance.”

Gojo, meanwhile, was thoroughly enjoying himself. “This is gonna be great,” he said, turning to Geto. “You know she’s going to make a scene when she comes in.”

“Yeah, I’m sure we’ll hear all about it during training,” Geto replied dryly, finally setting his phone aside and preparing to grab his gear. “We’ll just pretend we didn’t hear her until she comes storming in here to yell at you, huh?”

Haibara, still laughing, looked between the others. “I feel like I’m missing something here. Why does she keep coming to you?”

“Because,” Gojo said, crossing his arms and grinning widely, “we’ve been best friends forever, and she knows I’ve always got her back. And extra clothes, apparently.”

“Of course, you do,” Geto muttered, knowing full well how often Gojo would come to the rescue with something random, like extra gym clothes.

As the knock echoed one last time, Gojo walked over to the door, his grin widening. “I’ll be right back, boys. Gotta go save the day again.”

With that, Gojo opened the door just enough to pass the clothes through. On the other side, you stood there, looking far too confident, hands on your hips.

“Finally,” you said, clearly relieved.

The guys inside the locker room shared a look. Haibara raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the casual intimacy you and Gojo shared, while Nanami just rolled his eyes, still more focused on his gear.

Gojo handed you the clothes with a flourish, his grin teasing. “There you go. All set, bestie.”

Haibara couldn’t help but laugh, glancing at Nanami. “I think I get it now. It’s like a lifelong partnership or something.”

“Ugh, don’t even start with me,” Nanami muttered, clearly unimpressed by the antics. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand them.”

Gojo, still grinning, turned back to face them. “You’ll get used to it. We’re just that special.”

You strolled in, looking like you were swimming in Gojo’s oversized clothes. The bright white shirt, two sizes too large, hung loosely around your frame, and the athletic shorts were practically falling off, held up only by the drawstring. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up, but still, they almost reached your elbows, and the whole ensemble looked like it could swallow you whole. You had clearly taken Gojo’s extra clothes without a second thought.

The silence lingered for a moment before Geto was the first to break it, raising an eyebrow. “Did you really have to wear that?” he asked, unable to suppress a smirk.

You grinned at him, completely unfazed by the attention. “What? It’s not like I had any other option. Gojo said it’s his ‘emergency backup’ set. his stuff is basically my stuff so it doesnt matter now” You tugged at the fabric, making it bunch up around your waist in a way that could only be described as absurd.

Haibara blinked, completely taken aback by the sight. “Whoa. I didn’t know Gojo’s clothes were that… big.” He stifled a laugh, clearly impressed with your choice of fashions.

Shoko snorted from her spot on the sideline, rolling her eyes as she leaned back. “You look ridiculous.” Her voice was lazy, but you could tell she was trying not to laugh. “But Gojo’s clothes being your option is so stupid, you could’ve just come get me”

“Shut up,” you said, still grinning. “It’s too late now… I’m rolling with it. Besides, Gojo’s just mad because I look better in his clothes than he does.”

“Hey, I’m right here!” Gojo called out from the corner, where he had been stretching. He had a huge grin plastered on his face, though, clearly entertained by the sight of you swaying around in his oversized gear. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not a part of this!”

You turned to face him, hands on your hips, still unapologetically drowning in his clothes. “Well, if you didn’t have such giant clothes lying around, I wouldn’t have to make do with your fancy leftovers.”

Shoko chuckled, her gaze sliding from you to Gojo. “The best part is that he doesn’t mind you wearing his stuff at all. Can you imagine if anyone else tried it? Gojo would probably lose it.”

Gojo just shrugged, a playful smirk on his face as he approached you. “I’m a generous guy. Plus, I have to make sure my best friend is always prepared, right?” He placed a hand on your shoulder, the sleeve of his shirt hanging off his arm in a dramatic way, almost like he was trying to own the moment.

Geto, clearly amused, raised his hands. “Alright, alright, no need to show off. We get it, Gojo. You’re a walking charity case for your best friend.”

“Exactly!” Gojo said, his grin turning teasing. “I’m just too kind for my own good.”

You shot him a playful look. “And I’m way too cute for my own good.”

Haibara laughed, his energy returning as he clapped his hands together.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile never left your face. “Okay, okay. I’m done here.” You threw a quick wink at Gojo before turning toward the training mats. “Let’s get to it before Gojo finds any more of his ‘emergency backups’ for me to wear.”

As you walked toward the center of the training ground, you could hear Gojo calling out to you. “I’m serious! You do look better in them!”

Geto, shaking his head with an amused smile, looked at Shoko. “I think we’re going to be hearing about this for a while.”

“Yeah,” Shoko replied with a lazy grin. “I’ll bet five yen that Gojo’s gonna ask for his clothes back before the day ends.”

“only 5?”

You could hear Gojo’s dramatic sigh from across the field. “I can’t believe you don’t think I look amazing in those clothes,” he shouted, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

It was definitely going to be a long day. Your gaze shifted to the two unfamiliar faces standing across from you Nanami and Haibara. It was clear they were second and first years, respectively, though they carried themselves with maturity and confidence.

Gojo, as always, was casually leaning against a nearby post, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He’d somehow convinced you to show up in his clothes, and now he was basking in the aftermath of his “success.”

“You’re all probably wondering who the new guys are,” Gojo said, interrupting the silence as he gestured lazily toward Nanami and Haibara. “Well, let me introduce you. This is Nanami Kento, secondyear extraordinaire. And this is Haibara, my fun loving first year protege.”

You turned to face them fully, giving them both a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you both! I’m Y/n” You started,

Nanami gave a polite, composed nod. “I’ve heard of you. It’s an honor to work with someone as experienced as you.” His tone was calm and respectful, and you appreciated the sincerity in his voice.

Haibara, on the other hand, gave a bright grin and waved a bit awkwardly, clearly the more approachable of the two. “I’m Haibara! It’s awesome to meet you! I’ve heard all kinds of stories about your missions!” He seemed excited to be working with someone more seasoned.

You chuckled, brushing your hair back with one hand. “Stories, huh? Well, I wouldn’t say I’m that special more like I’m just always on the move for missions.”

You took a step closer to Nanami and Haibara, giving them both an appraising look. “But I’ve got to say, you two are way nicer than Gojo made you sound,” you added with a smirk, casting a sideeye at your best friend who was still standing off to the side, acting like he owned the whole training field.

Gojo made an exaggerated gasp, clutching his chest. “Ouch, that hurts! I’m so nice, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He grinned wide, clearly trying to downplay the jab.

Haibara laughed softly at the exchange, clearly amused by the dynamic between you and Gojo. “Yeah, he makes everything sound way more dramatic than it needs to be,” he said, giving Gojo a playful look. “I mean, come on nice is an understatement when it comes to you.”

You nodded in agreement, crossing your arms with a smirk. “Exactly. Look at this guy,” you said, gesturing to Gojo. “He acts like he’s the only one who can be ‘fun,’ but honestly, I think you two are way easier to talk to.” You directed the compliment toward Nanami and Haibara.

Nanami gave a small, almost imperceptible smile, his usual stoic demeanor softening just a little. “I suppose we have our own way of approaching things. We prefer to focus on the task at hand.”

“Yeah,” Haibara chimed in enthusiastically, “but we’re still here to have fun! I think I’ll like working with you.”

You raised an eyebrow, impressed by their reactions. “I think I might too,” you said. “You’re both way less dramatic than Gojo it’s refreshing.”

Gojo, ever the dramatic one, threw his arms in the air. “Why does everyone gang up on me? I’m such a good person!” His voice was full of mock offense, though it was clear he was enjoying the attention.

“Maybe we’ll see how good you are once we start training,” you teased, turning back to Nanami and Haibara. “But seriously, it’s nice to meet you two. I’ve been out of the loop with missions, so I don’t get to interact with many of the underclassmen.”

“We’ll make sure you don’t regret it,” Haibara said with a wink. “And hey, maybe you’ll teach me a few things?”

You chuckled. “I’m sure I’ll learn a lot from you two as well. Though, I warn you, Gojo’s the one with all the dramatic stories, not me.”

Gojo crossed his arms, feigning a pout. “Hey, I’m allowed to be dramatic! It’s part of my charm!”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, earning a small laugh from Haibara and even a slight smile from Nanami.

“Well,” you continued, turning back to Nanami and Haibara, “looks like we’ve got a good team. No drama just pure talent.”

Geto, who had been quiet for most of the exchange, looked between you and Gojo before smirking. “You know,” he said, “if you keep defending Gojo like that, you’re going to make him insufferable.”

Gojo immediately grinned and winked at you. “See? They get me.”

You just shook your head. “I’ll stick with you guys, as long as Gojo doesn’t start talking too much.”

Gojo gasped. “I’ll take that as a compliment, but I’m not sure if you’re actually joking!”

Laughing, you turned to Nanami and Haibara. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. But, seriously, it’s great to finally meet you both in person.”

It was clear that Gojo and Geto were in their usual mood mischievous, but with a hint of cruelty. You had seen this before, especially when they started ganging up on someone, and you could tell that Nanami was in for it. He was a bit too serious for their liking, and you both knew how much they enjoyed poking fun at anyone who didn’t quite fit their mold.

Gojo was the first to break the silence, his grin wide and devilish. He took a slow step toward Nanami, sizing him up with an exaggerated scrutinizing gaze. “So, Nanami, you really think you can handle this, huh? I hope you’ve been training hard, ’cause I don’t go easy on anyone.” He clicked his tongue and raised an eyebrow, feigning disappointment. “I mean, I guess you’re okay for a secondyear, but we both know you can barely keep up with me.”

Nanami, who had been standing calmly with his arms crossed, gave Gojo a cool stare. “I’m not worried,” he replied, his tone neutral but firm. He wasn’t one to back down easily, and that only seemed to fuel Gojo’s amusement further.

Geto leaned in from the side with a knowing smirk, folding his arms across his chest. “You know, Gojo, Nanami might be too uptight for this field. His whole ‘serious’ vibe isn’t exactly the best for fighting. I mean, I can already see you wiping the floor with him, but maybe we should make this fun.” His eyes flickered with mischief, and he made no effort to hide the fact that he was provoking Nanami.

You could already tell they were about to turn this into something personal. Gojo and Geto had a way of driving people insane with their teasing, pushing buttons until it was almost unbearable.

Gojo snickered, tilting his head to the side. “I gotta admit, though, Nanami, it’s pretty cute that you think you can hang with us.” He looked over to you, his grin widening. “Don’t you think so, Y/n? You’ve seen this before. Nanami’s so stiff. I mean, if I wanted someone to train in perfect posture, he’s the guy, but in a fight? Not so much.” He made an exaggerated motion with his arms to show how rigid Nanami seemed.

Geto let out a low laugh, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe we should give him a proper warmup before he gets embarrassed in front of everyone.” His eyes glinted with something darker, something that said he wasn’t going to stop unless someone intervened.

You stepped forward, raising your hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, knock it off. You two are really pushing it today. You know Nanami can hold his own.” You threw a protective arm around Nanami’s shoulders, trying to shield him from the escalating teasing.

But Gojo wasn’t having it. “Come on, Y/n. You really think he can handle me?” His voice was loud and dramatic, clearly trying to get a rise out of both you and Nanami. “You know, you are a secondyear, Nanami, but you’ve got a lot to learn. A lot.”

He moved closer, standing right in front of Nanami now. “Maybe you should take notes. I mean, look at me. I’m basically the perfect fighter. And you” Gojo poked Nanami’s chest in mock sympathy, “you’re just… well, Nanami. Not quite as impressive, huh?”

Geto chimed in, his tone more biting now. “Yeah, Nanami, maybe you should just stand to the side and watch. It’ll be safer for you, trust me.” He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “We wouldn’t want you to get too bruised up by the time this is over.”

Nanami’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed slightly. You could tell the teasing was getting under his skin, even if he was trying to hold it together.

You stepped in front of Nanami, this time making sure to get in Gojo and Geto’s faces. “Enough,” you said, your voice firm. “You’re crossing a line.” You were trying to keep things light, but it was becoming obvious that they were being needlessly cruel now.

Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly not used to anyone standing up to him like this. “What’s the matter, Y/n? He’s a secondyear; this is just how we help people grow. You know that, right?” His eyes sparkled with his usual playful glint, but there was an edge to it now.

Geto smirked, pushing his hair back with one hand. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want Nanami to get soft, would we? It’s for his own good, really.”

You felt your irritation building. “You’re not ‘helping’ him. You’re just being assholes.” You turned to Nanami, giving him a small nod of support. “Don’t let them get to you. They like to joke around, but they’ll cross the line if no one stops them.”

Nanami let out a deep breath, seemingly unfazed. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.” But his clenched jaw told you it wasn’t that fine. You could see he was about to snap, and that was exactly what Gojo and Geto wanted to see just how much they could get under his skin.

Before anything else could escalate, you moved in closer, putting a hand on Gojo’s shoulder and giving him a playful but firm shove. “Cut it out, Gojo. You’re not funny anymore. And Geto” You shot a glare at him, “You’re no better.”

Gojo sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine, we’ll be nice. I guess we can’t have any fun around here, huh?” He shot Nanami a wink, his teasing not quite done but pulled back just enough.

“You know, Y/n,” Geto drawled as he leaned back, “You really are soft when it comes to your friends. I didn’t realize you were such a defender.”

You glared at both of them, turning back to Nanami with a more gentle smile. “Ignore them, Nanami. You’re way better than they give you credit for.”

Nanami gave you a halfsmile, clearly grateful for the support. “Thanks. And I can handle them. I’ve seen worse than these two.”

You nodded, but you knew that Gojo and Geto had left their mark, and that meant you’d have to step in even more if they kept going down this path. But for now, it was over at least until they decided to start again.

“Alright, enough talk,” Gojo finally said with a teasing grin. “Let’s get to training. Nanami, I’ll go easy on you maybe.”

“Maybe?” You said, a hint of sarcasm in your tone. “Go easy on him? That’s rich, coming from you.” You looked at Nanami. “He’s full of it, you know.”

Shoko, still lounging around lazily on the sidelines, yelled out, “You’re all too dramatic. Just spar already!”

With the pressure momentarily off Nanami, everyone shuffled into place to start the sparring. The air had a lighter tone, though you knew Gojo and Geto wouldn’t let up entirely. But at least for now, Nanami had you backing him up, and that was enough to keep them in check. you decided it was safer (and more productive) to spar with Shoko.

Lazy as she was, she was no slouch when it came to combat. The moment you threw a strike, she blocked it effortlessly, twisting her body with a smoothness that made it clear she wasn’t just relying on her reversed cursed technique to stay relevant. You had to admit, for someone who complained about effort, she sure knew how to handle herself.

“Damn, Shoko,” you whistled as she sidestepped another attack. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you actually like training.”

She rolled her eyes, exhaling through her nose. “I don’t. But I also don’t like getting my ribs shattered on missions, so here we are.”

You laughed, stepping back before lunging at her again. “That’s a good point. But, you know” You grinned, pivoting midswing to test her reflexes. She blocked it easily, her movements as fluid as ever. “We don’t have to be those doomed yuri tropes.”

Shoko blinked at you, unimpressed, before immediately twisting your arm behind your back and shoving you forward.

“Ah Shoko, please, my pride”

“You’re the one who started flirting midspar,” she deadpanned, finally releasing you with a lazy shove.

Rubbing your wrist dramatically, you turned to her with a smirk. “Can you blame me? You’re cool, capable”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Don’t start. You already have too many love interests.”

You paused, tilting your head. “What?”

Shoko waved a hand vaguely, as if dismissing the entire concept. “In another universe, maybe you’d actually focus on me and the female gender instead of collecting admirers like a shonen protagonist.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “…What?”

“Nothing.” She yawned, stretching her arms above her head before shooting you a side glance. “Just saying, if you ever wake up one day and decide men are too exhausting, I’m available.”

Your grin widened. “Noted.”

Before the conversation could go any further, a loud thud interrupted you Gojo had just sent Nanami sprawling across the ground, laughing like a maniac. You both sighed in unison.

“…Do we help him?” you asked.

Shoko rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Let’s give him a minute. Maybe he’ll start fighting back and finally shut Gojo up.”

Unlikely, but it was a nice thought.

₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆After parting ways with Nanami and Haibara, the four of you walked back toward the school. It was unusually quiet too quiet. Normally, Gojo would be running his mouth, filling the air with nonsense, but instead, he just sulked beside you, arms crossed, sunglasses slightly crooked like he was deep in thought over something profoundly lifealtering. Whatever. You stretched, feeling the soreness from sparring with Shoko settling into your muscles. “Man…” you sighed. “Nanami has a really attractive face.”

Dead silence.

“COUGAR!” Gojo practically shrieked, spinning toward you with such force that his sunglasses nearly flew off his face. Geto stopped walking altogether, staring at you like you had just committed the ultimate betrayal. Shoko, who had been lazily walking beside you, hummed in amusement but said nothing, clearly just waiting to see where this went.

You blinked. “What?”

“A COUGAR!” Gojo repeated, pointing at you like you were some sort of criminal. “You’re a whole thirdyear and you’re out here checking out a secondyear?! This is a scandal! A DISGRACE! I’m gonna have to tell Yaga that you’re out here preying on underclassmen”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you groaned, shoving his face away. “He’s, like, one year younger than us. I just said he has a nice face. That’s an objective fact.”

“No, no, no,” Gojo shook his head wildly, grabbing Geto’s shoulders for support like he was about to collapse from shock. “Suguru, are you hearing this? Is this real? Is this real life?”

Geto, who had been staring at you like he was still trying to process what you had said, exhaled heavily. “Yeah, I gotta admit, I didn’t think you were capable of acknowledging anyone was attractive.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Gojo pointed aggressively. “All these years, and Y/n’s never once said anything about me… uh, us! And suddenly, Nanami’s stupid, serious face is worth talking about?”

“His emo blonde hair is kinda nice,” you added, just to get under their skin.

Gojo let out a fullbody gasp, stumbling backward like you had physically struck him. “THE AUDACITY!”

Geto crossed his arms, now fully invested in slandering you. “You’re really out here thirsting over underclassmen, huh? That’s crazy.”

“I didn’t say I was thirsting, I said he has a nice face,” you defended.

“Oh, no, no, no” Gojo wagged a finger at you, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You can’t take it back now. You said it. Out loud. With your mouth. In front of witnesses.”

“Witnesses?” you repeated, deadpan.

“Yes. Three witnesses, in fact,” Geto added, smirking.

“And Y/n, be honest with us,” Gojo said, stepping uncomfortably close. “Was it just his face? Or was it also that cold, brooding, businessmaninthemaking energy? You like ‘em serious, don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please, I’ve known you my whole life, and you’re the exact opposite of serious.”

“Exactly!” Gojo threw his arms up. “Yet somehow, Nanami is getting all the love?! I’m beautiful!”

“Yeah, and I’m charming,” Geto added, flicking his hair back. “Yet somehow, you’ve never once looked at us and said anything like that. And then along comes little Nanami Kento with his serious face and his ‘I hate working overtime’ attitude, and suddenly, you’re interested?”

“You two are being so dramatic right now,” you groaned.

“We’re heartbroken, Y/n,” Geto sighed. “Absolutely devastated.”

“Tragic, even,” Gojo agreed.

“Completely betrayed.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. “For the last time, I just said he was attractive. That’s literally it. Do you two want me to start commenting on how nice your faces are? Would that make you feel better?”

Gojo and Geto immediately stopped talking. They exchanged glances. Looked at you. Then at each other again. And in unison

“…Maybe.”

You groaned. “Unbelievable.”

Shoko, who had been silently observing the mess unfold, finally leaned over, her voice barely above a whisper. “Y/n, you’re getting so many love interests.”

You shot her a look. “Don’t start.”

She smirked, lighting a cigarette. “I’m just saying. Another universe, maybe you go for me instead. it’ll make tour life easier”

Gojo made another strangled noise, and Geto clutched his chest dramatically like he was about to faint. You, fully regretting everything, walked ahead. This was never going to end.

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Gojo’s room was honestly not too horrible today. Clothes were thrown over his desk chair, an empty cup of instant ramen sat on the floor, and at least three pairs of sunglasses were scattered in random places. The sheer mess of it was something you had long since stopped questioning. You sat crosslegged on his bed, phone in hand, lazily scrolling as you replied to a text. Gojo, on the other hand, was lying upside down on the floor, feet propped up against the wall, a lollipop in his mouth as he tossed a ball up and down.

It was peaceful.

“Who are you texting?”

You barely glanced up. “Nanami.” The sound of the ball hitting the floor was immediate.

“WHAT.” Before you could react, Gojo launched himself onto the bed, nearly knocking the phone out of your hands.

“HEY!” you yelped, holding your phone out of reach.

“You’re texting Nanami?!” Gojo shrieked, eyes wide with betrayal.

“Yes?” You raised a brow. “Why are you acting like I committed a war crime?”

Gojo dramatically flopped onto the bed beside you. “Oh my god, Y/n. When did this happen? When did you two become texting buddies?!”

“Literally today.”

“AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO CONSULT ME?” He rolled onto his stomach, staring at you like you’d personally destroyed his worldview. “What could you possibly have to text Nanami about?”

“Books,” you replied simply.

Gojo stared at you for a long moment. “Books,” he repeated.

“Yes.” “That’s it?” “Yeah.”

He groaned, flopping facedown into the mattress. “You’re so boring.”

“You asked.”

Gojo turned his head dramatically. “Wait. Wait. Hold on.” His sunglasses had slipped down his nose, blue eyes squinting at you. “Are you… flirting?”

You blinked. “I just said we’re talking about books.” “But are you flirttexting about books?”

You stared at him. “What does that even mean?”

“You know, like ‘Oh Nanami, I simply adore the way you analyze classic literature~’” Gojo put on a terrible impression of you, complete with dramatic hand gestures.

You smacked his arm. “Shut up.”

“Oh my god.” Gojo sat up, eyes wide. “You like him. You think he’s hot.”

“I literally already said he has an attractive face,” you deadpanned.

“But that was in the moment!” Gojo gestured wildly. “Now you’re thinking about him. Texting him. This is a whole new level!”

You rolled your eyes, shoving your phone in your pocket. “You’re so dramatic.”

Gojo grabbed his chest like you’d just stabbed him. “I just never thought I’d see the day,” he gasped. “My best friend, my precious best friend, betraying me like this.”

“Oh my god, get a grip.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He collapsed backward onto the bed. “Go on, text your boyfriend. I’ll just sit here. Alone. Forgotten.”

You stared down at him before shoving a pillow over his face. Gojo immediately started flailing. “HELP! I’M BEING ATTACKED BY A TRAITOR!”

You groaned, shoving him off the bed. “If I knew texting Nanami would get this reaction, I would’ve done it sooner.”

Gojo, lying facedown on the floor, groaned. “I hate you.”

You pulled your phone out again “Nanami’s way more pleasant than you, anyway.”

Gojo screeched. This was never going to end. Gojo groaned dramatically from the floor, limbs sprawled like he’d just been hit by a truck. “I cannot believe this. My best friend, my one and only, has been stolen from me by a second year emo.”

You rolled your eyes, scrolling through your phone. “calm down big guy.”

Gojo peeked up at you, then, with zero warning, launched himself back onto the bed, flopping down beside you. The mattress bounced under his weight, and he made no effort to respect personal space, lying close enough that his shoulder pressed into yours. “I’m being serious,” he whined, dramatically resting his head on your shoulder. “What does Nanami have that I don’t?”

“Selfrestraint,” you said without missing a beat. Gojo gasped. “Excuse me?” He lifted his head to squint at you, affronted. “I have so much selfrestraint.”

“You just threw yourself onto me because I texted someone.”

“Okay, but that’s different,” he huffed, rolling onto his side to face you. “You never text people first.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh yeah?” He raised an eyebrow. “Name one person.”

“…Shoko.”

“Shoko doesn’t count. She texts you first.”

“…Geto?”

Gojo scoffed. “You text him, like, twice a week.”

“That’s still texting someone.”

He groaned, rolling onto his back and dramatically covering his face. “Ugh, whatever. I just think it’s suspicious that the first person you suddenly feel like texting is Nanami.”

“You’re just mad I called him attractive.”

“Because you never call people attractive!” He flailed a hand in the air. “You refuse to acknowledge anyone’s hotness! Then suddenly, you meet Nanami, and it’s all ‘Oh, what a nice face he has~’”

“I don’t sound like that.”

“That’s exactly how you sound.”

You let out a sigh, tilting your head toward him. “Okay, would it make you feel better if I said you were attractive?” Gojo immediately sat up, looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

You blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m just processing,” he said flatly.

“…Processing what?”

“That was the first time you’ve ever complimented my looks.”

You frowned. “That’s not true.”

“It is true,” he deadpanned. “I compliment you all the time. I tell you you’re pretty, I hype you up”

“And you sound insufferable every time,” you cut in.

“and I get nothing in return,” he continued as if you hadn’t spoken.

“Meanwhile, Nanami shows up for one training session, and suddenly you’re swooning.”

You groaned, rubbing your temple. “I am not swooning.”

Gojo flopped back down beside you, still pouting. “If you start dating Nanami, I’m gonna die.”

You snorted. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. Just drop dead on the spot.” He sighed dramatically. “My fragile heart won’t be able to take it.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned your attention back to your phone. “You’re ridiculous.”

Gojo tilted his head toward you, watching as you lazily scrolled through your messages. He didn’t say anything for a moment, but then, in a much quieter voice, he said

“…You really think I’m attractive?”

You sideeyed him, unimpressed. “Don’t push it.” He grinned, his usual dramatic energy returning in an instant. “Oh, I’m pushing it. Say it again. Tell me how handsome I am.”

“No.” “Say it.” “Gojo ” “Saaay iiiit.”

You grabbed a pillow and smacked him in the face. Gojo laughed, grabbing his own pillow and swinging back. And just like that, the teasing shifted into fullon mess, the two of you whacking each other like children, the earlier conversation long forgotten.

Gojo had you in a headlock. Not a real one more like a loose, ridiculous mess of tangled limbs and pillows as the aftermath of your impromptu pillow fight. His sunglasses were long gone, lost somewhere in the depths of his disaster of a room, and his snowwhite hair was a mess, sticking up at odd angles.

You huffed, lying sprawled out beside him, out of breath from all the laughter. Your head rested against his shoulder, and neither of you had the energy to move. The room was quiet now, save for the occasional sound of Gojo shifting beside you. Then, after a long pause, he murmured, “You know… you never answered me.”

You cracked one eye open. “Answered what?”

“If you think I’m attractive,” he said, voice teasing, but there was something else beneath it. Something more serious.

You closed your eyes again. This was a trap. If you said no, he’d call you a liar. If you said yes, you’d never hear the end of it.…But also. You weren’t a liar. So, with an exhale, you muttered, “Yeah.”

Gojo stiffened. You felt it immediately the slight tensing of his arm beneath you, the way his breathing hitched just a little. Then, because you weren’t about to deal with the consequences of that admission, you immediately went limp against him.

“…Y/n.” You didn’t move. Gojo poked your cheek. “You’re not asleep.” No response. Another poke. “You literally just talked.” Nothing. Gojo groaned, shifting so he could look down at you. “You’re the worst.”

Still, you remained perfectly still, face neutral, pretending to be deep in sleep. For a moment, he said nothing. Just stared at you, his arm still around your shoulder, your body still leaning against him. You weren’t sure what he was thinking, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze, the rare stillness in his presence.

Then, in a voice much softer than before, he said “Go out with me.”

Silence. Your heart did not just skip a beat. That was just… a bodily malfunction.

Gojo nudged your side. “I know you’re faking.” Nothing. “You’re such a coward,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to it. Just amusement. Maybe a little fondness.

He sighed, letting his head fall back against the pillow. Then, instead of pushing you away, he tightened his arm around you, pulling you closer.

“You’re gonna have to answer me eventually,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t move. Didn’t react. Didn’t let your face betray anything. But you felt everything. Gojo didn’t let go.

The soft sound of Gojo’s steady breathing filled the room as you slowly woke up, the weight of his arm still draped across your shoulders, pulling you in close. The sunlight had shifted, casting a warm glow through the blinds. You blinked a few times, your mind foggy as you tried to get your bearings. You were lying against Gojo’s chest, his body relaxed, his head resting on the pillow. The way he had wrapped himself around you in his sleep made it feel like he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. His presence usually so present and overwhelming was now replaced by the calm of someone who’d finally let himself rest. You let out a quiet sigh, shifting slightly but careful not to disturb him. His breathing didn’t change, and you realized he was sound asleep. Your thoughts wandered, and before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out.

“…I’m not stupid.” You spoke softly, not intending to wake him up. It was more of a mumble to yourself. But as you muttered those words, something inside you shifted, like a weight that had been hanging in the back of your mind finally settling into place.

“I see it now,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Both of you.”

You let your eyes wander over to Gojo’s peaceful face, watching the way his features softened in sleep. Then, your thoughts turned to Geto. They were always together. The way they acted so close, so constantly wrapped up in each other’s orbit. Too close. It was almost like a competition for your attention, only you hadn’t realized it until now. It wasn’t until they both started acting so ridiculously possessive that the pieces finally clicked together.

You chuckled bitterly, shifting again and trying to untangle yourself from Gojo’s arm without waking him.

“Honestly… how did I not see it sooner?” You muttered to yourself, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “They’re both so obvious about it.”

Gojo shifted a bit in his sleep, his arm tightening slightly around you as if in response to your movements. You stilled, eyes wide for a moment, but then you relaxed, biting your lip.

“You know, it’s honestly kind of embarrassing,” you continued, still not fully processing how much you were revealing to yourself out loud. “Both of them… acting like they’re fighting for my attention. Like I’m some sort of prize.”

You laughed under your breath. “But I’m not stupid. I can see what they’re doing.”

The realization was so simple and yet so unexpected. Gojo’s flirty teasing, his relentless need for validation, and Geto’s cool demeanor that had a little too much weight behind it when it came to you it all clicked. They weren’t just being weird. They were being deliberate. You looked at Gojo again, his face serene in sleep, the playful, arrogant grin from earlier now replaced by a quiet, almost vulnerable expression. He was the same as always, but in a way, he wasn’t. You realized you couldn’t quite figure out what was going on with him, and it made your heart race just a little faster than you wanted to admit. With a sigh, you mumbled to yourself again, though the words felt heavier this time.

“I should be annoyed. I should be, right?”

You let the silence hang for a moment. But you weren’t. Instead, a quiet warmth spread through you, making you feel both frustrated and comforted at the same time. Gojo had always been the one to keep things a mess. But with the way he held you now his fingers loosely tangled in your hair, his breathing soft against your skin it almost felt… intimate.

You knew you couldn’t let yourself fall into the trap of his teasing, not this time. You had to be rational. But then again, you couldn’t ignore it either. You found yourself slowly letting your eyes slip closed again, not yet ready to face the mess of thoughts swirling inside your head. You barely realized you were drifting back into sleep until you felt Gojo’s hand gently rub circles on your back, as if he’d woken up without you noticing.

“…You’re not stupid,” he murmured sleepily, his voice rough with sleep. “I’m just really bad at hiding it.”

You froze, eyes snapping open as you realized he was awake. He shifted again, his arm sliding around you in a way that wasn’t exactly innocent. His face was still soft, though there was an unmistakable glint of mischief in his eyes. “You heard all that?” You asked, your voice a mix of shock and mild embarrassment.

He just smirked, the same playful smirk you’d known for years. “I always hear you, Y/n.”

You sat there in Gojo’s room, the weight of everything you’d said hanging between you. Gojo sat next to you, his usual carefree attitude nowhere to be found, though he tried to keep it together. He had his hand resting on the bed beside you, but the tension in his posture was clear. He’d listened quietly as you tried to untangle the mess of your feelings, but there was an undeniable frustration brewing inside him. He couldn’t deny it. A small part of him the selfish part was frustrated. He hated the way you were caught between him and Geto, like some kind of tugofwar. He had always been the one to be there for you. He had always been the one who made you laugh, who kept you grounded. And now, he was sharing you with someone else, someone who didn’t get to be your best friend in the same way he did. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you. How he always had. But instead, he was holding back, trying to be supportive, trying to be the best friend you needed, even though it was tearing him up inside. You weren’t making it easy on him, though. And maybe it was selfish, maybe it was wrong, but the thought of losing you to Geto or anyone else made him feel like his insides were twisting in knots. But Gojo wasn’t going to let that show. Not yet.

“You’re my best friend, Gojo,” you said, your voice quiet. Your words were like a balm, but they didn’t ease the frustration that was bubbling inside of him. Not yet. “You’ve been my best friend for so long, and I I love you. I do. But…” You trailed off, and Gojo held his breath, desperate to hear you continue, desperate for something anything that would tell him you felt the same.

“But then there’s Geto, too,” you finished, and Gojo had to fight the urge to grit his teeth.

His heart was pounding, and for a moment, he had to resist the urge to blurt out everything he had ever wanted to say. But no, he couldn’t. Not yet. He stayed silent, giving you space to work through it. He could hear the quiet pain in your voice, the way you were trying to figure everything out, but it was frustrating. So frustrating.

“Gojo,” you continued, meeting his gaze, and for a brief moment, his mask almost cracked. You looked so vulnerable, so unsure, and he couldn’t help but feel protective of you. But that little selfish part of him still wanted to yell, to make you choose him. “I don’t even know if romance is something I should be thinking about right now. Everything’s so messed up lately. Both you and Geto started, like… vouching for my affection out of nowhere, and it just…” You stopped, looking down, and Gojo swallowed hard, trying to push the frustration aside for now. “It’s made my head spin.”

He wanted to say something. To tell you that it wasn’t like that, that he had always been here for you, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he exhaled deeply, forcing himself to be calm, to just be there for you. He had to, even if it was tearing him up inside. “You’re not alone in this, Y/n,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, even though the jealousy was gnawing at him. “You don’t have to figure it out right now. You never rush into anything. You always take your time. So don’t let all this pressure you.”

You shook your head, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “I know. I just ” You exhaled deeply, turning toward him. “It’s just hard. When I’m with you, I feel… safe and seen. And when I’m with Geto, I also have that feeling. And both of you are important to me.” And there it was. The words Gojo had been dreading to hear. Not that he didn’t understand. He did. He knew what it was like to have different people give you different things, but for him, it was hard to hear that you felt seen by someone else.

“Y/n,” he said softly, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. But his mind couldn’t help but flash to the thought of Geto touching you, of being with you in a way that Gojo couldn’t. He wanted to push those thoughts away. He had to. He was being the best friend you needed. “You’re not going to lose us, okay? Ever. Whatever happens, we’re still your friends. No matter what.”

But his mind was still reeling, and a small, selfish part of him wanted to say, Screw that. I don’t want to be your friend anymore. I want you to choose me. He couldn’t, though. He wouldn’t say it. Not yet. You met his gaze, your expression softening, but there was still that uncertainty there, lingering. Gojo could tell you were still processing everything. And that was fine. He would give you the time you needed, even if it was killing him inside.

But when you spoke again, your voice quieter, more tentative, Gojo felt his heart race, but this time, it wasn’t out of frustration. It was out of something else. “Thanks, Gojo. You’re always there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His chest tightened at your words, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief. It wasn’t everything he wanted to hear, but it was something. He reached out, his hand resting on yours, his fingers curling around your hand gently. “Don’t mention it. I’ll always be here for you. I’m your best friend. That’s what best friends do.”

But deep down, there was still that selfish part of him that wanted more. That wanted to be the one you chose. And maybe, just maybe, he would get that chance. But for now, he could only wait.

Gojo: [leaning casually against your desk] So… when are you gonna realize I’m in love with you?

You: Oh, you’re in love? With who? Tell me! I’ll help you!

Gojo:

Gojo: [wheezing] No one, actually. I’m dead inside.

taglist: @pandabiene5115 @inthedarkshadows000

⋆˚✿˖° ❝𝗜𝘁 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗱𝗲𝗱❞ ⋆˚✿˖°

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gojo satoru x reader

geto suguru x reader

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5. what kind of woman are you attracted too?

masterlist

I felt I wasnt nurturing the bond between gojo and geto. like they are close friends and I feel the bond that they have would still remain though strained in this trope. Geto and Gojo support each other but are each other’s downfall. Like you know how in the show its the jujutusu kaisen world that was hurting each other. Make it you.

You had barely sat down with your breakfast when Gojo appeared out of nowhere, plopping into the seat across from you with a grin that immediately put you on edge.

“…What?” you asked, eyeing him warily.

Gojo leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “So.” You sighed. “So?”

He wiggled his fingers in your direction. “Tell me.”

You blinked. “Tell you what?”

Gojo tilted his head. “What kind of person you’d date.”

You froze mid bite. “…Huh?”

He tapped his fingers on the table impatiently. “Your type. Preferences. Ideal boyfriend.” He leaned in further, grinning. “Or girlfriend, I don’t judge.”

Your face heated slightly, but you quickly masked it with a deadpan look. “Why do you care?”

Gojo gasped, placing a hand over his heart as if deeply offended. “Excuse me? As your best friend, I need to know these things.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Since when?”

Gojo waved a hand dismissively. “Since always.”

You sighed, going back to your food. “And what are you going to do with this information?”

“Oh, you know.” He twirled his chopsticks between his fingers. “Just… make sure you don’t end up with someone lame.”

You snorted. “Lame?”

“Yes, lame.” He jabbed his chopsticks toward you. “Like some guy who doesn’t get your jokes, or can’t keep up with you in a fight, or, God forbid is boring.”

You gave him a look. “You realize you’re sounding like you’re hinting at something”

Gojo grinned. “Wow. Can’t believe you’d just admit your feelings like that.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “That’s not what I said.” “But it’s what you meant.” “Absolutely not.”

He watched you for a moment, unreadable behind his ever present sunglasses. Then, his smirk softened just a fraction, his voice taking on a more casual tone. “I just think you deserve someone great, y’know? Not some broody guy who thinks too much, or someone who carries the weight of the world like it’s his personal burden. Definitely not someone who overcomplicates things when they could just… I don’t know, be happy.”

Your stomach twisted, and you suddenly you had a feeling you understood exactly who he was talking about. Suguru.

Your throat tightened slightly, but you masked it with an eye roll. “Uh huh. And you’re saying you don’t overcomplicate things?”

Gojo’s grin was immediate. “Please, I’m a simple man. Good food, good company, and looking absolutely amazing at all times? That’s all I need.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Right. Of course.”

Gojo propped his chin in his palm, watching you with something suspiciously close to fondness.

Your stomach flipped slightly, but you quickly masked it. “Why do you care?”

“Because I have to care. What if you end up with a loser?”

You snorted. “I think I can handle myself.”

“Sure, sure, but like…” He gestured vaguely. “I have standards for you, y’know?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Your standards?” He nodded sagely. “Yep. And obviously, only the best will do.”

You rolled your eyes, deciding to humor him. “Alright, then. What are your standards?”

Gojo smirked. “Glad you asked.” He held up a finger. “One, they have to be funny because if they’re boring, I’ll have to personally intervene.” Another finger. “Two, they have to be cool but, like, not cooler than me because that’s just unrealistic.” A third finger. “Three, they have to be strong because if they’re not, then I’ll have to protect both of you, and that’s just exhausting.”

You gave him a deadpan look. “So basically, you just described yourself again.”

Gojo gasped, “Are you saying I would be your perfect match?”

You groaned, shoving his shoulder. “That’s not what I said.”

Gojo grinned, sitting back up. “No, no, I totally get it now.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You’ve just been too shy to admit you’re into me.”

You scoffed. “I promise you, that is not the case.”

He pouted. “Deny it all you want, but the evidence is right there.”

“What evidence?!”

“The fact that you haven’t answered my question!” Gojo leaned forward again, grinning. “Come onnn, what’s your type? Tall? Handsome? White haired?” You picked up your toast and took a pointedly long bite, refusing to answer.

Gojo gasped dramatically. “Silence? That means I’m right.” You chewed slowly, making direct eye contact. “I just don’t feel like feeding your already enormous ego.”

He leaned back, frowning. “C’mon, just tell me. Do you like the cool, broody type? The serious, stoic kind? Or are you more into, like, hilarious, handsome, and incredibly talented men?”

You shot him a flat look. “Gojo.”

“Hmm?”

“Eat your breakfast.”

He pouted. “You’re dodging the question.”

You sighed, standing up with your tray. “That’s because I don’t have to answer it.”

Gojo hummed, watching you go. Then, just as you reached the door, he called out. “You do like me, though, right?” You didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response and that was definitely not the reason you left the cafeteria so quickly.

—

You walked down the hall, gripping your tray a little tighter than necessary. What was that? Gojo was always like this annoying, teasing, insufferable. Maybe it was the way he kept pressing the issue, like he needed an answer. Like it mattered to him.

You sighed, setting your tray down at the dish return. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s just being Gojo. That was what he did: push buttons, crack jokes, demand attention. But then there was that last question.

“You do like me, though, right?”

You frowned, rubbing your temples. He’d said it so casually, like he was asking if you liked a new snack from the vending machine. But there had been something else beneath it something just a little too expectant, like he cared what you would say. that was the problem. Because if it was just a joke, you could roll your eyes and move on. But if there was even a chance that Gojo was being serious…

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. Nope. Not going down that road. Gojo was your best friend. He was ridiculous and loud and overwhelming, but he was Gojo. Thinking about him like that would just cause problems. You felt heat rise to your cheeks and groaned. Shoko and Utahime have ruined my brain. Because now, instead of just brushing it off like usual, their teasing from last night lingered. “Geto’s got the slow burn, weird emo thing going for him.”

“Gojo? Oh, he’s a mess over them.” You bit your lip, glancing toward the cafeteria doors as if expecting Gojo to come waltzing through them at any moment. You needed to not overthink this. Maybe Gojo was just being dramatic. Maybe he was just teasing. You shook your head, turning on your heel. Nope. Still not thinking about it. Gojo was just being Gojo. That’s what you kept telling yourself. He teased, he poked, he demanded attention nothing new. But the way he’d said it… the way he looked at you… There was something different about it, something that lingered in the back of your mind like a stray thread you couldn’t stop tugging at. You sighed, pressing your fingers to your temples. Nope. Not doing this. Not overthinking.

You turned a corner, passing by one of the common rooms, when a familiar voice made you pause. Geto.

You hadn’t meant to stop, but something about the way he was talking held you in place. His voice was quieter than usual, thoughtful. Curiosity prickled at you, and before you could think better of it, you took a step closer, peeking around the corner to stay out of sight. Geto stood near the vending machines, his usual relaxed posture leaning slightly against the wall. His expression was softer than usual, absent of the teasing smirks you were used to. Across from him stood a second year student, who was listening intently with a playful grin.

“Yeah, she always forgets to bring water, so I figured I’d keep an extra bottle for her,” Geto was saying, his tone almost casual but laced with something gentler You blinked, confusion stirring in your chest. Who was he talking about? “She never remembers to eat in between training either,” Geto continued, a fond, almost exasperated smile tugging at his lips. “Always running around, taking care of everyone else first.” He let out a small chuckle that sounded far too tender. “So, I just make sure to bring extra snacks. Nothing big. Just enough so she won’t notice I’m looking out for her.”

The second year grinned, nudging his shoulder. “Sounds like you’re practically her caretaker at this point.”

Geto laughed softly, a sound that warmed your chest and left your heart aching. “Nah. She’s plenty capable on her own. But, y’know…” His gaze shifted away, his fingers rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s nice. Making sure she’s okay.”

Your mind whirled, trying to piece together what you were hearing. Geto had always been reliable, steady a calming presence when things got too overwhelming. But this… this felt different. It felt deliberate. Personal. You should have stepped out. Made a joke, teased him about his “caretaker” status, anything. Instead, you stayed rooted in place, eyes wide and heart thumping.

“Come on, Suguru,” the second year teased, their tone light. “Sounds to me like you’re a little more invested than just looking out for her.”

Geto rolled his eyes, but the flush on his cheeks betrayed him. “It’s not like that. I just… care about her, okay?” Your breath caught, your chest tightening. Was he really talking about someone like that? Like that?

“Uh-huh,” the second year hummed. “I think you care a little more than you’re letting on.”

Geto hesitated, his gaze lowering. “You’re really that surprised? She’s incredible. How could I not like her?” Your heart stuttered, the air catching in your throat.

The second year laughed, nudging him again. “Wow, you’re seriously gone, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Geto chuckled, a sound that was quieter and self deprecating. “Go ahead and say it. I know I’m obvious.” A beat. “Not like it matters.” The lightness in his voice faltered, and there was a heaviness that weighed the air down. You stared, caught between wanting to stay and needing to leave before your presence was discovered.

“What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?” the second year asked, a little more serious now.

Geto sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just bad timing. Or maybe it’s just… not meant to be like that.”

Your chest tightened painfully, a confusing mix of emotions crashing over you. Disbelief, confusion, curiosity something deeper, something raw. The second year seemed to sense the weight of his words, and they shifted awkwardly. “I think you’re overthinking it, Suguru. Maybe it’s simpler than that.”

Geto offered a small, wry smile. “Or it’s just… complicated.”

Your breath was too shallow, your skin too warm. You had no idea what to make of any of this of Geto’s tone, his words, the vulnerability in his voice. Before you could make sense of it all, the sound of approaching footsteps snapped you back to reality. Your heart lurched, panic flooding your veins. You turned on your heel and walked away quickly, leaving Geto’s quiet confession behind. The echoes of his voice lingered in your mind, heavy and impossible to ignore. Who was he talking about? Was it someone you knew? Someone close to him? The questions followed you down the hall, unrelenting and insistent.

—

The library was quiet except for the occasional rustle of pages and the faint scratching of a pen against paper. You sat across from Geto at a secluded table, textbooks and notes sprawled between you. The plan had been to actually study, but as usual, things weren’t going according to plan. “Are you even listening?” you asked, tapping your pen against the open textbook in front of you.

Geto smirked, not looking up from where he was casually spinning his own pen between his fingers. “Hmm? Oh, of course. Every single word.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Okay. Then tell me what I just said.”

Geto finally glanced up, resting his chin on his hand. “Something about… the properties of cursed energy reinforcement?”

You deadpanned. “That was twenty minutes ago.”

He chuckled, stretching his arms over his head. “Alright, you caught me. Maybe I got a little distracted.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Geto, we actually need to study.”

“I am studying,” he said smoothly, tilting his head. “I’m studying you.”

You blinked. “What?”

His lips twitched into a smirk. “I mean, it’s more entertaining than cursed energy formulas, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes. “dont be weird, I kinda would like to pass and never have to be here again.”

He placed a hand over his heart in mock sincerity. “I would never. I’m just making an observation.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “Fine, if you’re not going to take this seriously, I’ll just—”

Before you could finish, Geto leaned forward, smoothly plucking your pen from your fingers and twirling it between his own. “Relax,” he said, voice softer now, less teasing. “You’re always so focused on making sure we don’t fall behind, but when’s the last time you took a break?” You opened your mouth, then hesitated. “…That’s what I thought,” he said, giving you a knowing look. “It’s okay to slow down, y’know?”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “I just don’t want to fail.”

Geto’s smirk softened into something almost fond. “You won’t. You’re way too stubborn for that.”

You snorted despite yourself. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

“Absolutely.” He twirled the pen once more before handing it back to you, fingers brushing yours for just a second too long. “Now, if it’ll help, I promise to actually focus.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He placed a hand over his heart again. “Scouts honor.” You gave him a skeptical look, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Alright… but im not helping you again if you dont focus”

“Deal,” Geto said, grinning.

And for the next hour, he actually did focus though, every now and then, you caught him watching you with that same quiet, thoughtful look. You chose not to question it. For the next hour, Geto actually kept his promise mostly. He worked through the material, asked the right questions, and even managed to answer a few on his own. But every so often, when he thought you weren’t looking, you’d catch him watching you instead of his notes. You tried to ignore it. Tried. But after the fifth time, you finally sighed and set your pen down. “Okay. What?”

Geto blinked, caught red handed. “What?”

“You keep looking at me,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “And not in the ‘I’m paying attention’ kind of way.”

A slow, amused smile crept onto his face. “Maybe I just like looking at you.”

You rolled your eyes. “. Sure. And maybe I’ll start flunking on purpose just to see if you actually take notes for once.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Alright, alright. No need for extreme measures.” He rested his cheek against his palm, watching you with something unreadable in his expression. “It’s just… nice. Studying like this. Just us.”

You hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his voice. “…Yeah,” you admitted, twirling your pen between your fingers. “It is.”

Geto smirked. “See? You do like hanging out with me.”

You scoffed, pushing his book toward him. “I never said that i dont. Now, focus.”

He laughed but finally turned back to his notes. “Yes, yes. Diligent as always.”

But then, as you flipped to the next page of your textbook, Geto suddenly spoke again. “Hey.”

You looked up. “Yeah?”

He hesitated for half a second, like he was debating something, before offering you a small, genuine smile. “Thanks. For always making sure I don’t fall behind.”

Your grip on your pen tightened slightly, not expecting the warmth that spread through your chest at the simple words. You cleared your throat. “Yeah, well. Someone’s gotta keep you in check.”

Geto chuckled, but there was something softer in his eyes now. “Guess I’m lucky it’s you, then.”

Your breath hitched slightly, but you quickly covered it with a scoff. “Alright, now you’re just trying to distract me again.”

He held his hands up in mock innocence. “Not at all. That was just a bonus.”

You shook your head, trying (and failing) to fight the small smile threatening to break through. “Just focus, Geto.”

And, surprisingly, he actually did. The library had mostly emptied by now, leaving only the faint hum of the lights and the occasional rustle of paper breaking the silence. You stretched your arms over your head, letting out a small groan as you leaned back in your chair.

“We’ve been at this for hours,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes.

Geto smirked, resting his chin in his hand. “Tired already?”

“You say that like you aren’t exhausted, too.”

He hummed noncommittally, flipping his pen between his fingers. “Maybe. But I don’t mind it. This is still better than being out there.”

You glanced at him. “Out where?”

His smirk faded into something quieter, more thoughtful. “With them,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “Normal people. Civilians.”

You frowned slightly, sitting up a little straighter. “What do you mean?”

Geto leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting to the ceiling. “It’s just… I don’t know. Every time we go out on missions, I see it. The way people look at us. Like we’re freaks. Like they can’t decide if they’re grateful or terrified.” His fingers tightened slightly around his pen. “Even when we save them, they still flinch when we get too close.”

You stayed quiet, watching the tension in his shoulders.

“They don’t get it,” he continued, voice softer now. “What it means to live like this. To always have to fight. To put our lives on the line for people who don’t even want to understand us.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “Sometimes I wonder if they even deserve us.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken for a moment. “…I get it,” you finally murmured.

Geto glanced at you, eyes flickering with curiosity. “You do?”

You nodded, running a finger along the edge of your notebook. “I’ve felt it, too. The distance. The way they look at us. Sometimes it’s admiration, but most of the time it’s fear.” You exhaled slowly. “And yeah, it’s frustrating. Knowing we go through so much for people who will never truly see us.”

He watched you carefully, a hint of surprise flashing across his face like he hadn’t expected you to understand, not really. “…But,” you added, meeting his gaze, “I don’t think that means we should stop protecting them.”

His brows lifted slightly, waiting for you to continue.

“They may never understand us,” you admitted, “but that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve to live their lives in peace. I don’t think it has to be us versus them, it’s just… the way the world is.”

Geto studied you for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then, slowly, he sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. “You really are too good for this world,” he murmured, almost to himself.

You snorted, nudging his foot under the table. “And you sound like you’re going to start some rebellion.”

He chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “Nah. Not today.”

You rolled your eyes. “if you do, make me your right hand man so I keep you in check. Dont want you to become an evil cult leader.”

And though the conversation moved on, the words lingered between you. Somewhere, deep down, you both knew this wasn’t the last time you’d talk about this.

—

The gym smelled like polished wood and sweat, the faint echo of sneakers squeaking against the floor bouncing off the high ceilings. Gojo and Geto were caught up in an intense one on one basketball match, both far too competitive for a game that wasn’t supposed to mean anything. You, on the other hand, were seated comfortably on the bleachers next to Shoko, sipping on a sports drink and watching them with mild amusement.

“You know,” you said, stretching your legs out in front of you as you lazily sipped your drink, “you’re actually the coolest person I know.”

Shoko, who had been half watching the game and half scrolling through her phone, let out a soft snort. “That so?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, turning to her with a grin. “You’re smart, you’re strong, you don’t take shit from anyone plus, you’ve got this whole ‘mysterious but effortlessly hot’ thing going on. It’s really unfair, honestly.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow, finally glancing up at you. “You flirting with me?”

You gasped, hand over your heart. “Would it work?”

She laughed, a real, genuine one, shaking her head. “Careful. You keep this up, and I might start thinking you actually like women.”

You shrugged. “What can I say? I have good taste.”

Shoko smirked, tilting her head slightly. “Y’know, at this rate, I might just win the bet.”

You blinked, confused. “…What bet?”

Shoko’s smirk widened. “Oh, nothing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “No, not nothing. What bet?”

Before she could answer, Gojo suddenly shouted from across the gym, “DID YOU SEE THAT?! I JUST BROKE GETO’S ANKLES!”

“You tripped me, you bastard!” Geto yelled back.

Shoko took a slow sip of her drink, looking entirely unbothered. “Guess you’ll just have to find out.” You stared at her, completely lost, while she just laughed to herself, enjoying your confusion.

“I don’t even know why they take this so seriously,” you muttered, shaking your head. “It’s just a pickup game.”

Shoko snorted, stretching her legs out in front of her. “It’s them. They can make breathing a competition.”

You both watched as Geto smoothly dribbled past Gojo, dodging his outstretched arms with an easy grace before sinking a three pointer without even looking fazed. Gojo groaned loudly. “UGH, come on!”

Geto smirked, spinning the ball in his hands. “What’s wrong, Satoru? Thought you were the strongest?”

Gojo huffed, jogging to retrieve the ball. “Oh, please. I’m just getting started.”

Shoko turned to you, deadpan. “This game is never going to end.”

You sighed. “Nope.”

She took a sip from her water bottle before giving you a side glance. “So, which one are you rooting for?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

She smirked. “Oh, don’t play dumb. I know they’re both trying to show off for you.”

Your face warmed. “They are not.”

Shoko gave you a look. “Mmm, sure. Gojo has been throwing over the top passes this entire time, and Geto? He never plays basketball this seriously. Tell me I’m wrong.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but at that exact moment, Gojo attempted some ridiculous, unnecessary trick shot spinning mid air before launching the ball at the hoop. He completely missed. Shoko burst into laughter, clapping her hands. “Oh my god, did you see that?” You stifled a laugh as Gojo landed, immediately turning to look in your direction as if to check whether you saw his attempt. You quickly averted your gaze.

Shoko leaned in, whispering, “Yeah, totally not trying to impress you.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Shoko, please.”

She grinned. “I’m just saying. You’ve got two of the strongest sorcerers wrapped around your finger, and you’re over here acting like it’s nothing.” Before you could respond, Geto casually walked over, spinning the ball on his fingertips. “Shoko, you wanna play next? Might give me more of a challenge.”

Gojo scowled. “Hey!”

Shoko waved him off. “Nah, I’m good. I like watching you two embarrass yourselves.”

You smirked. “It is pretty entertaining.”

Geto arched a brow at you. “Oh? Would it be more entertaining if you played?”

You rolled your eyes. “Absolutely not. I refuse to get caught up in whatever this is.”

Gojo, now recovered from his earlier failure, grinned. “Aw, c’mon, I’ll go easy on you~.”

You deadpanned. “gojo youll still be mean to me” Geto chuckled, spinning the ball once more before tossing it to Gojo. “Alright, alright. We’ll finish this first.”

Gojo smirked. “Good. Because I refuse to lose in front of my favorite person.”

You blinked. “Who?”

Gojo winked. “Guess.”

Shoko gagged. “I’m leaving.”

You laughed, shaking your head as the game resumed, Gojo and Geto both seemingly more fired up than before. Shoko nudged you with her elbow. “So, really, who are you rooting for?” You sighed, watching as Geto smoothly stole the ball from Gojo.

“…I plead the fifth.”

“hoe we’re not in america”

—

Gojo wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t. He was just… mildly aware that this was not going as smoothly as he’d hoped. That was fine. He was Gojo Satoru. He could recover. He could be charming. The problem was, you were making it really difficult. You were just walking next to him after the little game, completely oblivious to the fact that he was actively trying to flirt with you. And sure, maybe that was on him for being bad at it today, but also how were you not picking up on any of this? He had practically draped himself over your chair at lunch the other day. He had called you cool super amazing (which, okay, maybe wasn’t the best line, but he’d panicked). He had literally just suggested hanging out in a way that was clearly date coded. And still, you weren’t getting it.

“Are you okay?” you asked suddenly, shooting him a look.

Gojo immediately straightened up. “Me? Oh, I’m fantastic.” No, he wasn’t. He was fighting for his life.

You narrowed your eyes. “You sure? You look like you’re buffering.”

Gojo felt his eye twitch. Great. Incredible. I am exuding peak attractiveness right now. “Rude.” He tried to sound playful, but even he could hear the strain in his voice. “I was actually gonna ask if you wanted to hang out later.”

You blinked at him. “We always do”

Gojo resisted the urge to grab you by the shoulders. “Yeah, but like, something different. Maybe, I dunno, date adjacent?”

You actually tilted your head at that, confused. “Date adjacent?”

Oh my god, I’m going to die.Gojo groaned. This was so not how he pictured this going. He had imagined you blushing, maybe teasing him back, at least acknowledging what he was doing. Instead, you were just standing there, looking at him like he had two heads.

“…Are you flirting with me?” you asked suddenly.

Gojo froze. His brain short circuited. Oh. Oh no. This is it. This is my moment. Say something cool. Say something.

“…No?” he blurted.

The second the word left his mouth, he wanted to throw himself into traffic. You, meanwhile, burst out laughing. And just like that, he lost to the plot again Gojo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh my god.”

“I knew something was up with you!” you cackled, nudging him with your elbow. “You’ve been acting so weird.”

Gojo flailed slightly. “I was not acting weird—”

“You totally were.”

Gojo huffed. “Okay, fine. Maybe I was being a little weird—”

“Painfully weird.”

“Rude,” he muttered. He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. This was not how he wanted this to go, but at this point, it was so obvious he was trying, so he might as well just go for it.

“Look, all I’m saying is,” he started, glancing at you, “if I was flirting, which I’m not saying I was” You raised an eyebrow. He ignored you. “hypothetically, if I was flirting, would that be, like… a bad thing?”

You tilted your head, considering. Gojo felt his heart actually skip a beat. He hadn’t meant to phrase it like that, hadn’t meant to actually sound like he cared about the answer (But he did. Of course, he did.) You smirked. “I dunno,” you said, starting to walk again. “Guess you’ll have to try harder if you want an answer.” Gojo blinked. Then he processed what you had just said.

Oh. Oh, you little—

A slow grin spread across his face as he easily fell into step beside you. “So there’s a chance?” he asked, voice light.

You just shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to find out.” Gojo chuckled, shaking his head.

—-

You hesitated, debating whether to keep walking or turn back. Geto’s voice was always smooth, steady like a calm river. But there was something else in it now, something amused yet careful, that made you pause. Curiosity got the better of you, and you leaned subtly against the doorway, just out of sight.

“…and then she just left the cafeteria,” Gojo’s voice came through, animated and exasperated. “Didn’t even answer me!”

Geto chuckled, warm and low. “Maybe she didn’t want to.”

Gojo huffed. “No, no, she was blushing, Suguru. I saw it.” You exhaled slowly. Blushing? Was it really that obvious?

“Maybe you pushed too far,” Geto mused. “You do that a lot.”

“I wasn’t pushing!” Gojo shot back, then hesitated. “Okay, maybe I was, but I had to! They never answer me seriously.”

“Ever wonder why?” Geto asked smoothly.

There was a pause. You could hear Gojo thinking, and for some reason, that made your chest feel tight. “…No?” Gojo finally admitted, and Geto sighed, almost fondly.

“Satoru,” Geto said patiently, “not everything is a game. You joke about everything. Everything. Why would she think this is any different?”

“Because I mean it!” Gojo argued, his voice rising in frustration. “I’m always flirting with her, always giving her chances to say something back”

“And maybe she doesn’t know if you’re being serious,” Geto interrupted, firm but calm. “Maybe they think it’s just a game to you, and she doesnt want to be played.”

Gojo scoffed. “That’s stupid. Why would I waste my time playing games with her?”

“Because that’s what you do,” Geto said simply. “It’s how you are. You make everything lighthearted, everything funny. But it also means that sometimes, people don’t know when you actually mean something.”

Gojo was quiet for a moment before muttering, “I… I don’t know how to not do that.”

Something in your chest twisted. Gojo, struggling with sincerity? it wasn't something that isn't real. It's painfully obvious to anyone who meets him Though if you're assuming right that this is about you, it feels weird. “Well,” Geto said, voice softer now, “maybe it’s time you figured it out.”

Gojo let out a dramatic groan. “Oh, sure, easy. Just suddenly stop being me. That’ll work.”

Geto huffed a laugh. “No one’s asking you to stop being you, Satoru. Just… maybe start showing them that they deserve more than a joke.”

A pause. “…More?” Gojo repeated, like the word didn’t quite make sense. “Yeah,” Geto said, and there was something final about the way he said it. “More. She deserve more, Satoru.” Your breath stilled in your throat. Gojo was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. “You really think that’s what she wants?”

Geto exhaled, something thoughtful in his tone. “I think that if you really want to mean it, you should start acting like it.” Then, after a brief pause, he added, “And I think you’re not the only one who’s going to be trying harder.” The weight behind his words made your stomach flip. Gojo let out a low hum, considering. “Huh. That sounds like you mean something too, Suguru.”

There was no teasing in Geto’s response, only certainty. “I do.” Your mind raced. You shouldn’t have been listening, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it not when it felt like you had just witnessed something you weren’t supposed to.

Before you could process it all, a presence settled at your side. You turned sharply, heart hammering, only to find Geto standing there, watching you. His gaze was steady, knowing. A slow smirk tugged at his lips. “Eavesdropping, huh?” The smooth timbre of Geto’s voice sent a shiver down your spine before you could even turn to face him. When you did, he was already watching you with that lazy, knowing smirk, the kind that made it clear he had caught you red handed.

Your heart lurched. “I absolutely wasnt, me walking down the hall and loud voices means inevitably someone wi—”

Geto chuckled, warm and low, like he had all the time in the world. “Relax. I won’t tell.” Your shoulders slumped slightly, though your mind was still spinning. “I didn’t mean to listen”

“Wanted to hear what everyone really thought?” Geto supplied smoothly, his voice quieter now. Your mouth opened, but the words tangled on your tongue. He wasn’t wrong. After a moment of struggle feeling strangely exposed under his gaze.

Geto hummed, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Satoru can be… a lot,” he said, lips quirking into a small, knowing smile. “But he means well.”

You exhaled slowly, still processing everything. “Yeah, I know.” His gaze lingered, a beat too long. That easy amusement was still there, but there was something else beneath it, something thoughtful, something intent.

“He’s not the only one who cares about what you think, you know.”

Your heart skipped. The air between you shifted, suddenly heavier, like the conversation had turned into something delicate. Something that had to be handled carefully.

“What do you mean?” you asked, though you weren’t sure you were ready for the answer. Geto tilted his head slightly, watching you with that same unreadable expression. “Just that… it’s not always easy, liking someone like you.”

The way he said it sent a rush of heat to your face. You swallowed. “Geto…” His smirk softened into something smaller, “What?”

You didn’t know how to respond. Your mind was still tangled in the weight of his words, the quiet but unmistakable way he had just said it like it was already fact. Geto’s eyes traced over your face like he was memorizing something, his amusement dimming into something quieter. “You’re always looking at him,” he murmured. “But do you ever think about who’s looking at you?”

Your breath caught. “You deserve more than teasing, you know.” His voice was almost casual, but the weight behind it was anything but. “More than jokes and empty flirting.” You stared at him, feeling like you had suddenly stepped into unknown territory. He let out a soft chuckle, almost as if he could hear your thoughts. “I won’t push,” he said easily. “I know you don’t like that.” His fingers brushed against your shoulder a fleeting touch, too light to be an accident. “But just… think about it.”

You couldn’t find your voice. Geto held your gaze for a moment longer before stepping back, hands slipping into his pockets. “Give yourself a chance,” he murmured again but lower, tilting his head slightly. “But don’t forget there are other people who care about you, too.” And then he was gone, walking away without waiting for an answer, leaving you standing there mind reeling, heart racing.

It was complicated. Messy. But as you finally stepped away from the doorway, you found yourself thinking not just about Gojo’s teasing or the way he had fumbled for sincerity, but about Geto’s steady warmth, his quiet certainty. And for the first time, you weren’t just thinking about them. You were wondering what it was you wanted.

——

It had been years since you first walked through the gates of Jujutsu High, and looking back now, it almost felt like another lifetime. The first time you met Geto was a memory etched in the back of your mind, one you revisited often, though it was a little more distant now.

You’d been a first year, fresh and wide eyed, filled with excitement and nerves as you navigated the complex world of Jujutsu sorcery. You’d barely even known what to expect from your fellow students, let alone the upperclassmen. But when you first saw Geto, it was impossible not to be struck by him. Tall, calm, and exuding an effortless coolness, he had a kind of quiet magnetism that seemed to draw people in.

You remembered the first day you saw him, sitting alone in the classroom during the the morning. His dark hair fell just the right way, framing his face, and his eyes those intense eyes never seemed to miss anything. The world seemed to gravitate toward him without a second thought. there was something about the way he carried himself that made it feel like he belonged in the spotlight. You couldn’t help but be a little starstruck. It wasn’t just his looks, though. His demeanor, the way he spoke with such effortless confidence, made you feel like you were standing in the presence of someone who had everything figured out. Even back then, as a shy first year, you found yourself drawn to him. You’d always been a little shy when it came to those kinds of feelings, so you never dared to express how you felt.

You had a crush on him, without a doubt. It was something you didn’t admit easily not to anyone, least of all to yourself. You were just starting to adjust to the world outside of you and gojo, let alone figure out how you fit in it, and trying to sort out your feelings for someone like Geto only made things more complicated. But as time went on, as you became more familiar with him, the crush slowly turned into something else. You began to see the layers beneath the surface. Geto wasn’t just the cool guy who could command attention with a single glance. he was thoughtful, intelligent, and surprisingly perceptive in ways that weren’t immediately obvious. He didn’t just notice people; he understood them, in a way that made you feel like you were more than just another face in the crowd.

You remembered the first time you really spoke to him like REALLY spoke to him. , after a mission where you both ended up working together. You’d been struggling with something either your technique or just how to focus under pressure and Geto had come up to you, casual as always, and offered a few words of advice. It wasn’t anything grand or life changing, just a small adjustment, but the way he said it, the way he made you feel like he truly believed in your potential, had stuck with you.

“Don’t overthink it,” he had said, offering a slight smile. “It’s simple. Just focus on the moment.”

You were surprised by how much that simple comment helped you how much it made you feel seen. From then on, every interaction with him felt different. Instead of a distant rando, Geto became someone you could rely on someone you could talk to about anything, whether it was missions, school, or just life in general. His presence, while still commanding, became comforting in a way you hadn’t expected.

Now, when you looked at him, it wasn’t with the same starry eyed admiration of that first day. He was one of your closer friends, someone you’d come to trust deeply. The crush, though it had remained a part of you in the back of your mind, had shifted into something else, something more meaningful. You appreciate him not for the image of him you had built in your head, but for the person he truly was. The calm, steady support he offered, the way he never judged, and how he always seemed to know when to challenge you and when to step back.

You found yourself often smiling a little as you watched him, lost in thought. He was standing off to the side, talking with some of the others, his usual easygoing demeanor present even now. He had become someone you could confide in, someone who genuinely cared about the people around him. The ease of your friendship, of the way he accepted you, made you realize just how far you had come from those first days of high school.

The crush was a distant memory now, but you couldn’t help but feel a warm sense of gratitude when you thought back to that first meeting. What you had with Geto now was something far more valuable, something real. He was your friend, and in many ways, you had grown together. And as you watched him, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he had always known exactly what you needed before you even realized it yourself.

—

The halls of Jujutsu High were quieter at this hour, bathed in the deep oranges and purples of the setting sun. Most of the students had turned in for the night, and even the teachers had begun to retreat to their rooms. But Gojo sat on the training field, staring up at the sky like it might hold the answers to the thoughts swarming in his head.

Shoko plopped down next to him, stretching her legs out with a quiet sigh. “You look like you’re thinking too hard,” she remarked, tilting her head to look at him.

Gojo huffed a laugh but didn’t turn to face her. “I am the strongest, y’know. That means my brain’s gotta be strong, too.”

Shoko snorted. “That’s not how that works.” A comfortable silence settled between them. Gojo let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. The usual brightness in his voice dimmed slightly when he finally spoke again.

“Shoko…” he started, hesitating in a way that was unlike him. “What does it mean when someone makes your brain feel all… messy?”

Shoko raised a brow. “Are you asking me about feelings, Satoru?”

He groaned, tipping his head back. “Ugh, don’t make it weird.”

“You’re the one making it weird,” she shot back, amused. “What’s going on?”

Gojo was silent for a beat before his fingers dug into his hair. “I really like her, Shoko.” His voice was quieter now, like saying it too loudly might make it real in a way he wasn’t ready for. Shoko blinked, before an easy smirk tugged at her lips. “Yeah, no shit.”

He groaned again. “Come on, be helpful.”

She chuckled but softened a little. “Okay, okay. What about them is making your brain all ‘messy’?”

Gojo exhaled, shoulders slumping slightly. “It’s just… I flirt with them all the time, right? But I don’t think they ever really believe me. Like it’s just some game or whatever.”

Shoko hummed thoughtfully. “You do treat everything like a joke.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Gojo muttered, rubbing his temple. “And then there’s Suguru.”

Shoko frowned slightly. “What about him?”

Gojo hesitated before sighing. “He likes her too.”

Shoko’s expression didn’t change, but something in her eyes sharpened. Shes heard both sides of her best friends complain about their love for you “And?”

Gojo hesitated again, and that alone was enough to tell her how much this was really messing with him. “It’s Suguru,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

And in a way, it did. Suguru Geto was his oldest friend, the one who had always been by his side, the one who understood him in ways no one else did. But now, suddenly, there was this… rift. Not spoken, not fought over just there, quietly growing between them.

Shoko let the words settle between them before speaking. “So, what? Are you gonna back off?”

Gojo snapped his gaze to her, eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “Of course not.”

Shoko gave a small, knowing smile. “Didn’t think so.”

Gojo exhaled sharply. “But it’s weird, okay? It’s weird because… because he’s Suguru, and he’s never really wanted the same things as me before.” He ruffled his hair, frustration evident. “It’s like I don’t know how to feel about it. He’s my best friend, Shoko.”

“And so is [Y/N],” Shoko pointed out.

Gojo faltered. She sighed, nudging him lightly. “Look, you like her, right? I think it naive to think suguru has never wanted the same as you”

“Yeah,” Gojo muttered, quieter this time.

“And Suguru likes her too,” she continued.

Gojo clenched his jaw but nodded. Shoko studied him for a moment before shrugging. “Then stop thinking so much.”

Gojo stared at her. “That’s your advice?”

She gave a lazy grin. “Yup.”

He scoffed. “Gee, thanks, that helps so much.”

Shoko chuckled, then let her expression turn more serious. “Listen, Satoru. I get it. You don’t like dealing with feelings yours or anyone else’s. But this isn’t about Suguru. And it’s not about some stupid competition.” She held his gaze. “It’s about you and how you feel about them.”

Gojo pressed his lips together. “Yeah,” he murmured, like he was finally letting himself admit it. “I really, really like her.”

Shoko patted his back, standing up with a stretch. “Then do something about it.”

Gojo tilted his head back to look up at her, lips tugged in a lopsided smirk. “You’re really bad at comforting people”

She rolled her eyes. “And you’re a pain in my ass. Just because i chose to be a doctor doesn’t mean psycologist.”

Gojo chuckled, but as she walked away, he let his head drop back, staring up at the sky again.

no one:

Y/n this chapter:

taglist : @pandabiene5115 @inthedarkshadows000

⋆˚✿˖° ❝it feels crowded❞ ⋆˚✿˖°

────୨ৎ────

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Geto Suguru x Reader

────୨ৎ────

4. How it feels to be a girl and do no wrong

masterlist

update! i’m back from vacation but i offer you this with what little time I have.

…

Your dorm was warm and cozy, lit softly by the glow of a few fairy lights strung along the walls. The scent of popcorn and sugary snacks filled the air, and laughter spilled freely between you, Shoko, and Utahime as the three of you lounged around the room.

It had been a few days since your night out at the arcade and ramen shop, but the memory still lingered in your mind specifically, the way Geto had acted, the way Gojo had been off. And based on the way Shoko kept smirking at you, you had a strong suspicion she knew exactly what you’d been overthinking.

“Alright, but hear me out,” Utahime said, sitting cross legged on the floor as she carefully painted your nails. “What if, just once, in a horror movie, the characters actually had some common sense?”

You snorted, blowing on the nails she had already finished. “Then the movie would be ten minutes long.”

“Exactly,” Shoko chimed in, sprawled lazily across your bed, a cigarette tucked between her fingers. “The second a single door creaks on its own? I’m out. No investigation. No ‘who’s there?’ Just immediate evacuation.”

Utahime grinned. “See, that’s why we’d all survive.”

You hummed. “Not if one of us trips.”

Shoko flicked her lighter absently. “You’d trip.”

You gasped, “I’m super adept.”

Utahime giggled. “You did trip at the arcade that one day.”

“That was once!” you protested, then immediately regretted it when Shoko and Utahime exchanged a look.

“Oh yeah,” Shoko drawled, her smirk widening. “Speaking of the arcade…”

Utahime sighed, putting the nail polish down and leaning back on her hands. “We’ve been nice and patient, but now you have to tell us.” You blinked. “Tell you what?”

Utahime gave you a deadpan look. “Don’t play dumb.” Shoko grinned, propping herself up on her elbows. “How’s it feel to have both Gojo and Geto all over you?”

Your face immediately heated up. “They were not—” “Please,” Shoko cut you off. “Geto was practically glued to your side, and Gojo looked like he wanted to launch him into orbit.”

Utahime hummed. “He was acting weird, wasn’t he?” You frowned, thinking back to Gojo’s quiet mood after dinner, the way he had trailed a step behind when you and Geto had walked back together.

“He’s been weird ever since,” Shoko mused, tapping ash into an empty cup. “More annoying than usual.”

“He’s probably just being dramatic,” you muttered, trying to ignore the way something in your stomach twisted.

Utahime gave you a patient look. “And Geto?”

You hesitated. Geto had been different too. More intentional with his words, with his actions. The memory of him draping his jacket over your shoulders flashed in your mind, unbidden.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It’s just… Geto’s always smooth. But lately, it’s like he’s actually trying.” Utahime nodded thoughtfully, while Shoko smirked. “And you like it.” “I didn’t say that!”

Utahime raised an eyebrow. “But you don’t hate it.” You groaned, flopping backward onto the bed, covering your face with a pillow. “Why are we even talking about this?”

Shoko chuckled, tossing a piece of popcorn at you. “Because it’s fun watching you squirm.” You lifted the pillow just enough to glare at her. “I hate you.” She grinned. “No, you don’t.”

Utahime leaned back, stretching her arms over her head. “Well, either way, something’s happening.”

You let out a long sigh. “Nothing is happening.” “Yet,” Shoko corrected, looking far too pleased with herself.

You groaned again, dragging the pillow back over your face. This sleepover was supposed to be relaxing. Instead, you were going to lose your mind. Utahime stretched, letting out a content sigh as she leaned back against the bed. “Well, whatever’s going on, you’re gonna have to deal with it eventually.”

You groaned, still partially buried under your pillow. “Or I could just ignore it forever.”

Shoko snorted. “Yeah, because that always works.” Utahime shook her head, about to say something else when she suddenly froze. Her eyes narrowed, her head tilting slightly as she peered toward the chair in the corner of your room.

“Wait a second.”

You sat up a little, frowning. “What?”

Utahime’s gaze flicked back to you, her expression sharpening with curiosity. “That jacket.” Your stomach immediately dropped. You followed her line of sight straight to the familiar black jacket draped over the back of your chair. Geto’s jacket. The same one he had casually thrown over your shoulders a few nights ago. The one you had fully intended to return but had somehow… forgotten about.

Utahime slowly turned back to you, her smirk growing with every passing second. “Is that Geto’s?” Shoko, who had previously been lounging, suddenly perked up. She squinted at the jacket, then at your increasingly guilty expression. Then, in perfect sync with Utahime, she let out a dramatic gasp.

“Oh my god.”

“No,” you said immediately, face heating up. “It’s not—”

“It so is,” Utahime cut in, sitting up straighter. “Why is it still here?”

“I—” You floundered for an explanation, your brain working overtime. “I just… forgot to give it back.”

Shoko smirked while laughing. “You forgot?”

“Yes!”

Utahime grinned, standing up to grab the jacket off the chair. She turned it over in her hands, inspecting it like it held the secrets of the universe. “I bet it even smells like him.”

“Utahime!” you yelped, reaching to snatch it from her. She easily dodged, waving it out of reach. “Oh, this is rich.”

Shoko propped her chin in her hand, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “So. You’ve just been keeping it? Sleeping next to it? Maybe wearing it when you miss him?” You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “I hate both of you.”

“Please,” Utahime said, shaking the jacket for emphasis. “This is gold.”

Shoko hummed thoughtfully. “You should return it, y’know. Maybe personally.”

You squinted at her. “You just want to watch me suffer.”

“Absolutely,” she confirmed, smirking.

Utahime threw the jacket over your head with a dramatic flourish. “Well, either way, you should probably return it before people start asking questions.” You peeked out from under the fabric, pouting. “You two are the worst.” Shoko shrugged. “And yet, with all this going on I might have to steal you for myself.”

Utahime grinned, flopping back onto the bed. “Now, be honest how many times have you worn it?”

You launched a pillow at her face. Unfortunately, that only made them laugh harder.

—

“This is nice,” Utahime murmured, admiring her work. “Quiet. Relaxing. No responsibilities.”

Shoko let out a content sigh, stretching her legs over the arm of the couch. “No early missions, no annoying teachers, no one yelling. Just peace.”

You hummed in agreement, flipping lazily through a magazine, barely paying attention to the pages. “We should do this more often.”

Utahime nodded. “Definitely. We always talk about it, but we never actually set time aside.”

“That’s because every time we plan, something interrupts it.” Shoko cracked one eye open, smirking. “Remember the last time? We barely made it through a movie before—”

“No,” you cut in quickly. “We are not bringing up last time.”

“That’s fair.” Shoko yawned, stretching her arms over her head before slumping back down. “So, what’s the plan? Are we just hanging out, or are we doing something fun?”

You glanced around at the mess of snacks and nail polish. “I thought this was the fun part.”

Shoko waved a dismissive hand. “No, no. I mean, like, real fun. Something chaotic. Utahime, you’re too responsible when’s the last time you did something reckless?”

Utahime narrowed her eyes. “You’re acting like I’m some kind of” She paused, then sighed. “You know what? It’s been a while.” Shoko grinned. “See? I knew it. Let’s do something.”

Utahime raised a brow. “Like what?”

Shoko turned to you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You got any ideas?” You glanced between them, already sensing that something was about to spiral out of control. “…I might have one.”

“i don’t like that look you’re giving” utahime lets out quietly

Shoko smirked, sitting up properly now, clearly entertained. “No, no, let’s hear them out. If they’ve got that look, it means this is gonna be good.” You shrugged, trying to seem casual. “Well, we could sneak into Gojo’s room and mess with his stuff.”

Utahime sighed, already rubbing her temples. “Why is your first instinct always to start problems?”

“Because it’s fun?” Shoko answered for you, already getting excited. “What are you thinking? Classic prank? Rearranging his furniture? Stealing something important?”

“Oh, stealing is good,” you mused. “Imagine if we took his sunglasses. He’d lose his mind.”

“He would,” Shoko agreed. “What about his hair gel? You know he goes through, like, a bottle a week.”

Utahime groaned. “I’m not getting involved in this.”

“Oh, come on,” you nudged her. “It’s harmless. He deserves it after all the times he’s annoyed you.”

Utahime hesitated, glancing away. “…He has been worse than usual lately.”

Shoko grinned, sensing the shift. “See? Exactly. Think of it as justice.”

Utahime huffed, crossing her arms. “Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming both of you.”

Shoko threw an arm around her shoulders. “That’s the spirit!”

The plan was simple: sneak in, steal something mildly important, and leave before Gojo even noticed. But in true you, Shoko, and Utahime fashion things did not go as planned

The plan was simple: sneak into Gojo’s room, take something mildly important, and leave before he even noticed. Given how messy he usually was, you figured it’d be easy just rummage through the and swipe something small. But the second you pushed open the door, all three of you froze.

“…What the hell?” Utahime muttered.

Shoko blinked. “Did we walk into the wrong room?”

Gojo’s dorm was… immaculate. No scattered clothes. No empty snack wrappers. His bed was made, his desk was organized, and even his infinity scarves were neatly folded on a shelf. The air smelled faintly of fabric softener, like he had just done laundry. You turned to your friends, wide eyed. “Did he hire someone to clean?”

Utahime shook her head, suspicious. “This has to be a trap.”

Shoko whistled, walking inside. “Or he finally got sick of living like a raccoon.” Stepping further in, you carefully looked around. It was unsettling this was not the Gojo you knew. No mess , no clutter, no sense of a human disaster living here.

“…I feel like we should leave something messy just to restore balance,” you murmured.

Utahime crossed her arms. “Focus. We need to find something valuable before he comes back.”

Shoko flopped onto his bed dramatically. “What even counts as valuable to Gojo?” As if on cue, Utahime spotted something small and very out of place on his desk a tiny, pink, bunny shaped scrunchie.

She picked it up, turning it over in her hands. “What is this?”

Shoko sat up. “Since when does Gojo own a scrunchie?”

“I don’t know, but it does not fit his whole thing,” Utahime said, looking scandalized. You smirked. “Which means it’s sentimental. Perfect.”

Shoko grinned. “Stealing it is the only logical course of action.”

Before you could celebrate your victory, disaster struck. Footsteps. Approaching. From right outside the door.

“Shit” you hissed.

“Hide!” Utahime whisper yelled.

All three of you scrambled like cockroaches when a light turns on. Shoko dived under the bed, Utahime pressed herself inside the closet, and you flattened against the wall near the door. The knob turned. Gojo stepped in, stretching. He yawned, rubbing his eyes as he scanned the room.

“…Weird,” he muttered. He took a slow step inside, glancing around. Your breath caught. His gaze narrowed slightly. “mmm something is off?” You stayed completely still. Shoko, from under the bed, barely stifled a laugh. Gojo exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “Maybe I’m just paranoid.” He turned, reaching for his blindfold on the desk, then froze.

His fingers hovered over the empty spot where the pink scrunchie had been. Slowly, his head turned. “…Where is it?” Your stomach dropped. Gojo knew.

His entire posture shifted casual suspicion replaced by immediate certainty. His eyes flickered as he scanned the room, brows furrowing. Utahime was dead silent in the closet. Shoko wasn’t even breathing under the bed. Gojo’s gaze lingered on the doorway. Then, he smirked.

“I knew I felt something off.” Crap. Time to run. The second without thinking, you bolted. Gojo moved fast too fast but you had a head start, and you weren’t about to go down without a fight. You dodged past him, sprinting out the door and down the hallway, gripping the stolen scrunchie in your fist like it was some kind of prized treasure.

“Hey!” Gojo’s voice rang out, way too delighted for someone who had just been robbed. “Get back here, thief!”

You didn’t look back. Behind you, you could hear Utahime and Shoko dying of laughter, but they had chosen self preservation over loyalty, leaving you to fend for yourself. You turned a sharp corner, barely avoiding crashing into a stack of textbooks outside Yaga’s office, and kept running, your breath coming in short gasps.

But Gojo wasn’t even trying. That was the worst part he wasn’t sprinting after you, wasn’t calling on his infinity to stop you in your tracks. He was just strolling down the hall like he had all the time in the world, like he was playing some slow, inevitable game of cat and mouse.

“You know I can catch you whenever I want, right?” You didn’t dignify that with an answer. Your plan? Unclear. Your only goal? Survive. But the second you made it to the stairwell, you felt it, A shift in the air. An invisible force coiling around you like a net.

Oh, shit.

Before you could take another step, your body stopped moving. You weren’t frozen, exactly just stuck, like something was gently pressing you in place. Gojo’s infinity. A heartbeat later, he was behind you, leaning down to speak right next to your ear.

“You really thought you could get away?”

His voice was smug. Too smug. You turned your head slightly, glaring. “That’s unfair.”

“All’s fair in love and war,” he shot back easily. Then, after a pause, “Wait, which one is this?”

You groaned. “Just take your stupid scrunchie back.” But instead of snatching it away, he just rested his chin on your shoulder, peering at the pink fabric in your hand. “You really wanted this that badly?”

You felt your face heat. “It was part of a game!”

“Oh? And what exactly was the game?”

You refused to answer. Gojo chuckled, finally releasing his technique so you could move again. But before you could shove the scrunchie back at him, he reached up, plucking it from your fingers with a satisfied hum.

Then, to your shock, he casually stretched it over his wrist.

You stared. “You’re actually wearing it?”

“Why not?” He grinned, holding up his hand like he was showing off some expensive bracelet. “Looks cute, right?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Then groaned. “You are so annoying.”

He just beamed, rocking back on his heels. “Admit it you’re impressed I caught you.”

You scowled. “I let you catch me.”

Gojo barked out a laugh. “Oh, sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

You turned on your heel, storming off, because if you stayed any longer, he’d probably say something even more ridiculous

.

But just as you reached the door, you heard his voice again, softer this time.

“See you later, thief.”

And then he walked away, leaving you standing there, flustered, as the warmth in your chest refused to go away.

—-

The memory was old, so old that Gojo sometimes wondered if it was real or just something his brain made up over time. But no, he knew it had happened. He could still hear the sound of your voice, tiny and full of determination, and he could still remember how warm the summer air had felt against his skin that day.

It was before Geto, before Shoko before either of you had anyone else. Just two kids, running around the vast Satoru estate, where everything was too big and too quiet and too lonely.

Gojo had been sulking. He didn’t even remember why. Maybe one of the servants had scolded him for sneaking sweets before dinner. Maybe his father had said something about being stronger or better or more than what he already was. Or maybe he was just having one of those days where being Gojo Satoru felt way too heavy for a little kid to carry.

Whatever the reason, he had plopped down onto the wooden engawa outside his house, legs dangling over the edge, arms crossed over his chest. His sunglasses too big for his face back then had slid slightly down his nose, but he was too grumpy to push them back up. like always, you appeared.

Marching straight up to him with something clutched tightly in your tiny fist, you stopped in front of him and huffed. “Satoru.”

Gojo barely glanced at you. “What?”

“Hold out your hand.”

He squinted at you, suspicious. “Why?”

“Just do it!”

He let out the world’s most dramatic sigh, but finally, he held out his palm. Immediately, you shoved something soft and fabric-y into it. Gojo blinked, looking down. A scrunchie. Pink. With little bunny ears on it.

He stared. Then stared harder. “…What?”

You crossed your arms, standing tall well, as tall as a little kid could stand. “It’s for you.”

Gojo wrinkled his nose. “A scrunchie?”

“Yeah.” Without waiting for an invitation, you flopped down next to him, swinging your legs over the edge of the engawa. “My mom said I have too many, so I decided to give this one away.”

Gojo frowned. “Why to me?”

You gave him a look, like the answer was so obvious. “Because you always complain about your hair.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. “…No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

Then, to Gojo’s absolute horror, you scrunched up your face and mimicked him in a high pitched, exaggerated voice:

“Ugh, my hair’s in my face! Ugh, it’s so annoying!”

Gojo gasped. “I DO NOT sound like that.” “You totally do.”

He scowled, clutching the scrunchie like it had personally offended him. “Well still! It’s pink!” You shrugged. “So?” “And it’s got bunny ears!” “So?” Gojo was flabbergasted. “It’s it’s cute!”

You blinked at him, unimpressed. “Satoru. You have white hair and wear sunglasses indoors. I don’t think a pink scrunchie is your biggest problem.”

Gojo gawked at you. “huh!”

You just grinned, all mischief and sunshine. “Besides, it’s practical.” You swung your feet again, bumping his knee. “You always get annoyed when your hair’s in your eyes, right? Just use it when no one’s looking.”

Gojo glanced down at the scrunchie again.

It was practical… and soft… and warm from your hands… and something about the fact that you gave it to him made his face feel kinda hot. He grumbled under his breath, stuffing it deep into his pocket like he was hiding evidence. “…Fine. But if anyone asks, I stole it from you.”

You laughed, bright and clear. “Sure, Satoru. Whatever makes you feel better.”

—

Gojo sat on his bed, rolling the same pink scrunchie between his fingers. The bunny ears were slightly bent, the fabric worn from time, but it was still intact.just like the memory.

He sighed, rubbing a thumb over the soft fabric. You didn’t even remember giving this to him.

Figures. He closed his fist around it, holding it close. It was his, after all.

Gojo sat cross legged in the middle of the wide, empty field behind the estate. The sun was beginning to dip, stretching his shadow out long and thin on the grass. Summer air clung to him, sticky and warm, and the cicadas’ endless chorus buzzed in his ears. He stared at the ground, fingers absently picking at the grass, his mind heavy with everything and nothing at once.

His dad’s voice still echoed in his ears, sharp, cutting, never satisfied. The words blurred together in his head, a tangled mess of expectations he didn’t ask for.

Footsteps crunched softly behind him, but he didn’t bother to look up. No one else came out here except for you.

“Hey,” you greeted, voice cautious but casual. “Why’d you run off like that?”

Gojo grunted, still plucking at the grass. “Dunno.”

You plopped down beside him without hesitation, legs folded neatly under you. There was a beat of silence as you looked at him, waiting for him to say more, but when he didn’t, you spoke up again.

“You ran off right after your dad yelled at you,” you pointed out, like it was obvious.

Gojo’s fingers stilled. He ripped a piece of grass and tossed it away. “So what?”

“So, it clearly bothered you.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

You huffed, exasperated but amused. “Liar. I know when something’s bothering you.”

Gojo finally looked at you, a half hearted glare behind those too big sunglasses. “You think you know everything.”

You grinned, unphased. “Yeah, ‘cause I do. I’m a gojo expert.”

Gojo’s lips twitched almost a smile. Almost. The two of you sat there, listening to the cicadas fill the silence. Gojo went back to tearing up the grass, and you leaned back on your hands, tilting your head to the sky.

“Y’know,” you began casually, “I don’t get why you always pretend you’re fine when you’re not.” Gojo’s jaw tightened. The sunglasses slid down his nose, and he pushed them back up, a barrier between you and the storm brewing in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me,” you countered softly, like it was the simplest truth in the world. “You’re my friend.”

Friend. That word made his chest feel weird too tight and too light all at once. It was easier to be Gojo Satoru, The Strongest, than to be just Gojo Satoru, a kid whose family thought “the strongest” was all he ever had to be.

“I’m not supposed to need friends,” he muttered. “I’m supposed to be the strongest.”

You looked at him, tilting your head a little. “Yeah, but being the strongest doesn’t mean you have to be alone, dummy.”

Gojo’s fingers stopped picking at the grass. The weight of his father’s expectations pressed down on his shoulders be stronger, be better, be more but your voice cut through the noise, steady and certain.

“Besides,” you added, nudging his shoulder with your own, “I think even the strongest person needs someone. Maybe even especially the strongest person.”

Gojo’s throat felt tight. He wanted to argue, to tell you that you didn’t get it, that no one did but then he looked at you, and you were just sitting there, legs swinging a little, your gaze soft but stubborn. You didn’t pity him; you were just there, like always.

Your hand reached out, fingers wrapping around his wrist gently. Gojo glanced down, staring at the way your fingers curled around his skin. It was grounding a touch that reminded him he was still here, still a person, not just some untouchable concept of strength.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, voice light but sincere. “Even if you keep acting like a grumpy old man.”

A laugh snorted out of him before he could stop it. “I don’t act like a grumpy old man.”

“Yes, you do,” you teased, a playful smirk curling your lips. “You sulk and mutter under your breath like you’re eighty.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’re just annoying,” he shot back, but there was no bite in his voice.

You laughed, bright and clear, the sound blending with the cicadas. The sun had dipped a little lower now, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. The world felt quieter, softer, and Gojo’s heart didn’t feel as heavy as before. The two of you sat there until the sun sank below the horizon and the air began to cool. When it was finally time to head back, you stood up first, offering your hand to help him up. Gojo looked at your outstretched hand, then at your face determined and patient.

He took it, your grip warm and steady.

“Come on, old man,” you teased, pulling him to his feet. “Dinner’s gonna get cold, and you know the staff’ll lecture you again.”

Gojo rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked into a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

But as the two of you walked back, your arms swinging between you,

——

The sun was setting over Jujutsu High, bleeding orange and gold across the sky. The air was warm and heavy, the end of another long day hanging lazily over the campus. Shoko leaned against the window frame of the common room, a cigarette balanced between her fingers, the smoke curling lazily upward.

Geto sat on the windowsill, his back against the frame and one leg drawn up while the other hung outside. His gaze was fixed on the training grounds below, where you and Gojo were supposed to be training though it looked more like Gojo was just finding new ways to annoy you.

“Do they ever actually take this seriously?” Shoko mused, exhaling a thin stream of smoke.

Geto huffed out a quiet laugh, but there was a heaviness to it. “If they did, they wouldn’t be themselves.”

Down below, Gojo had his infinity up, that smirk plastered on his face. Every time you tried to hit him, he’d lean back just enough for your fist to miss. His sunglasses had slid down his nose, but he didn’t bother fixing them.

“C’mon, try harder!” he teased, voice bright and taunting. “I thought you said you were getting stronger!”

“Oh, I am,” you shot back, grinning even as your frustration grew. “You just need to stop being a coward and drop your technique!”

“Ha! As if!” Gojo laughed, effortlessly sidestepping your next swing. “You’d have to make me!”

Without warning, you lunged forward and grabbed the front of his uniform. His eyes widened, a flicker of surprise breaking through his cockiness just before you yanked him down. The two of you tumbled to the ground, a heap of limbs and laughter, dust clouding around you.

Gojo’s dramatic yelp echoed through the courtyard, followed by your triumphant, breathless laughter.

Shoko snorted softly, shaking her head. “Idiots.”

Geto watched the two of you tangled up on the ground, his smile faint but strained. There was a bittersweet weight to it, a quiet sort of resignation.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his eyes still on Gojo’s bright, careless grin. “They are.”

Shoko took another drag of her cigarette, her eyes glancing sideways at Geto. The way he watched the two of you there was something there, a thread of something unspoken and conflicted.

“They’ve always been like that,” she said, testing the waters. “Even before we got mixed in.”

Geto’s gaze lingered on the two of you, Gojo’s arm now slung over your shoulders while you tried to shove him off, your mock protests drowned out by his laughter. There was a time when that laughter had been his, something that had belonged to just the two of them. Before everything had gotten so complicated. Before he began to see the cracks in the world that Gojo seemed so effortlessly above.

“Yeah,” Geto replied softly, voice tight. “They have.”

Shoko watched him carefully, the corner of her mouth curving into a smirk that was almost sympathetic. “Getting sentimental, Suguru?”

He scoffed, the sound sharper than usual. “No. Just thinking.”

“About?” He didn’t answer right away, his eyes still fixed on Gojo’s grin, the same one that used to be mirrored by his own. Used to be.

“Nothing,” he finally muttered, turning away from the window. “It’s nothing.”

Shoko watched him retreat, her gaze lingering on his back before drifting back to you and Gojo. Gojo had finally let you up, his head thrown back as he laughed, and you were swatting at him, a grin breaking through your faux irritation.

The sun dipped lower, shadows stretching long across the courtyard. Shoko took another drag of her cigarette, her eyes thoughtful. In the quiet space between laughter and cicadas, there was something heavy something that Geto couldn’t bring himself to name.

@pandabiene5115 @inthedarkshadows000

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Matching Pyjamas (Hello Kitty Edition)

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆Characters: Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru and Shoko Ieiri

Synopsis: you give your lovely partner matching pyjamas, They unfortunately are whores for you

my other works -> fun little fics

!!!WARNINGS!!!

This is explicit content so viewer discretion is advised. It’s not my job to babysit. If you’re not comfortable or know you shouldn’t be reading adult content then think again before reading.

Gojo Satoru

ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡You originally were out buying some pyjamas for yourself. (gojos card just might be the one you were using for the purchase) Hello Kitty pajama pants laid there in front of you, thinking they were adorable and cozy. But then you saw a pair in Gojo’s size and thought, Why not?

ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡When you hand him the pants, he gasps like you just proposed. “Matching pajamas?! Are we that couple now?!” He pretends to wipe away a fake tear. “I never thought this day would come.” He’s already stripping out of his current clothes before you can say anything.

ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡He absolutely loves them and will not stop posing in front of the mirror. “I make Hello Kitty look good,” he brags, striking ridiculous model poses. He keeps calling himself “Hello Kityoru” and refuses to wear anything else for the rest of the night.

ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡You two end up on the couch, wrapped up in blankets, binge-watching a random show. Gojo insists on taking a million selfies, dramatically captioning them like “Couples who slay together, stay together.” You have to confiscate his phone at one point because he keeps sending them to Nanami.

ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡It starts off sweet, Gojo pulling you into his chest, arms snug around your waist as he buries his face in your hair. But then? His hands start wandering, his breath gets lower, and before you know it, his lips are ghosting over your neck. “Mmm, you smell nice,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping beneath your hoodie, tracing slow circles on your stomach. “Too nice for me to behave.”

ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡Gojo loves to move against you just to mess with you. He shifts just right, pressing his hips against your backside when he’s spooning you, or rolling his body against yours when he’s on top. And he’s smug about it. “Oops,” he whispers against your ear when you gasp, acting so innocent. “My bad.”

ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡He absolutely uses the cozy night as an excuse to get his hands on you. Laying on the couch together? His hands are under your pajama top, tracing the curves of your waist. Oh you’re getting up to grab snacks? He very casually tugs at your pants, threatening to slip them lower, just to hear you yelp.

ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡At first, it’s slow and sweet, Gojo pressing lazy, open mouthed kisses along your jaw, your throat, his hands warm and steady on your waist. But the second you react, tilting your head, sighing against his lips. he grins. “Oh? You like this?” And just like that, his grip tightens, his kisses turn hungry, and suddenly, the pajama pants aren’t feeling so necessary anymore.

ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡At some point, he’s got you under him, hands braced on either side of your head, still wearing those ridiculous Hello Kitty pajamas, but his eyes? Dark. Mischievous. “You’re so cute,” he hums, dipping down to steal another kiss. “I should keep you in these all the time.” His fingers hook under your waistband, tugging just a little. “Actually… maybe not all the time.”

ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡Gojo thinks it’s hilarious to keep them on while he has his fun. He’ll push them just low enough to get what he wants but leave them bunched around your thighs, smirking down at you. “Matching pajamas and matching moans?” He laughs breathlessly. “We’re really on the same wavelength, huh?”

ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡ Hello Kitty Pajama Pants: Ruined? By the end of the night, one of you is definitely missing your pajama pants (probably you), and Gojo is grinning like the troublemaker he is. “Oops. Guess we’ll have to get new ones.” But when you glare at him, he just laughs and pulls you back into his arms. “Fine, fine~ I’ll make it up to you… eventually.”

————

The moment you hand Gojo the matching Hello Kitty pajama pants, his reaction is so dramatic,

“Matching pajamas?!” he gasps, clutching them to his chest like you just handed him a sacred relic. “Are we officially that cute couple?” He grins, already stripping out of his current clothes before you can stop him.

You roll your eyes, laughing as he wiggles into the soft pink pants, the little Hello Kitty faces decorating the fabric in a way that’s both adorable and completely ridiculous on a six-foot-three sorcerer.

“How do I look?” He strikes a pose, flexing his arms like he’s about to model for a Hello Kitty Calvin Klein ad. His toned stomach is on full display as his shirt lifts just enough to tease the perfect lines of his abs. He tilts his head, catching the way your eyes linger.

Oh. He definitely noticed.

“You checking me out?” His smirk is nothing short of dangerous as he steps closer, fingers grazing the hem of your own pajama pants. “Because, babe, you don’t have to stare. If you wanna touch—”

You shove him. “Put a shirt on before you catch a cold, dumbass.”

Gojo dramatically flops onto the couch, draping himself across your lap instead. “But you like me shirtless,” he teases, resting his chin against your thigh. “And besides, aren’t these nights supposed to be all cozy and intimate? I think this is a great start.”

You huff, fingers absentmindedly threading through his soft, white hair. “Intimate doesn’t mean we have to skip the movie part.”

“Doesn’t it?” His hands sneak under your pajama top, palms warm against your skin as he traces light, lazy circles up your ribs. The touch is barely there, but it sends a delicious shiver down your spine. “Because I really like the idea of an intimate night with you…” His voice dips lower, breath warm against your skin.

“Gojo—”

He tuts, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “That’s not what you usually call me when we’re alone, sweetheart.”

Your heart jumps as he suddenly shifts, pressing you back against the couch cushions, his weight settling between your legs. His smirk deepens as his fingers toy with the waistband of your pajama pants, pulling just enough to make you squirm.

“You put me in these adorable pants,” he muses, pressing a slow, lingering kiss just below your jaw. “You should’ve known I’d find a way to make the night even better.”

And judging by the heat in his eyes? That’s exactly what he plans to do.

At first, it’s innocent his arm draped around your shoulders as you settle against him, legs tangled under a shared blanket. The soft glow of the TV flickers across his features, his usual sharp grin replaced with something softer, almost content.

But then his fingers start moving.

A slow, absentminded drag along your thigh, just under the blanket. A featherlight stroke against your ribs, just under your hoodie. He’s watching the movie… or at least pretending to but you can feel the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips every time you shift in response.

His thumb brushes circles over your hipbone, teasing, deliberate. The warmth of his palm lingers over your stomach before sliding lower, dipping just beneath the waistband of your pajama pants. Not enough to be indecent, just enough to make you ache.

Your breath hitches, and that’s when Gojo finally moves.

He turns his head, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to the side of your neck, his lips warm against your skin. He lingers there, exhaling softly, letting the heat of his breath send shivers down your spine then he grins.

His fingers tighten on your waist, his body shifting ever so slightly against yours, letting you feel him. His mouth moves up, lips brushing just behind your ear, and then teeth. A playful nip that sends heat pooling low in your stomach.

The movie continues to play, completely ignored, as Gojo hums against your skin, his voice a low, teasing whisper.

He’s not watching the movie.

“Babe,” he sighs, pulling you against his chest like he has to be touching you at all times. “We look so cute right now. I feel like we should commemorate this moment.”

You roll your eyes, shifting in his lap. “With what? A picture?”

Gojo hums, his hands way too low on your waist. “Oh, I was thinking of something more… fun.”

Before you can even process what he means, he’s already pressing his lips to your neck soft at first, just the ghost of a kiss, but then he lingers, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers tighten on your hips, subtly rocking you against him, and your breath catches.

“Satoru,” you warn, but it’s not much of a warning when it comes out that breathless.

He grins against your skin. Yeah, he noticed.

“What?” he murmurs, feigning innocence as he trails kisses up to your jaw, his voice dropping into something low, teasing, dangerous. “I’m just appreciating my girlfriend. In her cute little pajama pants. Cuddling with me like a good girl.”

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie, trying not to react, but Gojo is Gojo. he always gets his way. His hands slide beneath your hoodie, fingers spreading against your bare skin, warm, firm. He pulls you closer, until you’re flush against him, your hips slotted perfectly together, and the feeling of him beneath you makes heat spark down your spine.

“You knew this would happen,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “You put me in these cute little pajama pants and expected me to behave?” His teeth graze your earlobe, making you shiver. “That’s cute, babe. Really cute.”

You open your mouth to tell him off, but then he moves, rolling his hips up into you slow, deliberate. Your breath stutters, and his smirk deepens.

“There we go,” he murmurs, tipping your chin up with one finger so you’re forced to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark now, filled with something dangerous, and suddenly, the matching pajamas seem like the last thing on his mind.

“You’re-” You try to say something, but he kisses you before you can get the words out, slow at first, letting you think you have some control, but then his hands tighten, pulling you hard against him, and suddenly, you’re letting out a soft, breathy moan into his mouth.

Gojo groans at that, gripping your waist tighter. “Fuck, baby,” he breathes against your lips, his usual teasing gone. “You sound so sweet.”

His lips move back to your neck, kissing, sucking, biting, and you know he’s leaving marks, but you can’t bring yourself to care when he’s gripping your hips like that, guiding you over him in slow, lazy motions.

“We were supposed to be cuddling,” you manage to say, your voice much weaker than you want it to be.

Gojo chuckles against your throat, fingers dipping under the waistband of your pajama pants. “We are cuddling,” he murmurs, sliding them lower. “Just, you know… closer now”

And just like that, your cute, cozy night? Completely ruined. But with the way Gojo’s hands are gripping your thighs, his lips dragging down your collarbone, his voice thick with want you really, really don’t mind.

He refuses to take them off. “I think these are my new signature look,” he declares, walking around the house like he’s on a runway. You catch him wearing them under his Jujutsu uniform the next day, claiming, “They’re my lucky pants now.”

Nanami Kento

≽^• ˕ • ྀི When you first show Nanami the matching Hello Kitty pajama pants, he just stares at them. Then at you. “You can’t be serious.” But you are very serious.

≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼ It takes some gentle persuasion (which may or may not involve you pulling the ultimate guilt trip and telling him that it would make you so happy). He sighs and eventually mutters, “…Fine.” Victory.

≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼Once he actually puts them on, you cannot stop laughing. The sight of the Nanami Kento standing in the middle of your bedroom, wearing pastel pink Hello Kitty pajama pants, is something you’ll cherish forever. He looks down at himself, sighs again, and mutters, “This is ridiculous.”

≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼He won’t admit it, but the fabric is actually really soft, and he appreciates that. He also loves how happy it makes you, even if he pretends to be suffering. “If you ever tell Gojo about this, I’ll never forgive you,” he warns, but there’s the tiniest hint of a smile.

≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼You both end up on the couch, curled up under a blanket, drinking tea and reading books. It’s peaceful, quiet, and everything Nanami loves about being with you. At one point, you rest your head on his shoulder, and he leans into you without a second thought.

≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼You catch him in the kitchen later, making tea with his sleeves rolled up, looking effortlessly handsome despite the cartoon cats on his pants. You giggle, and he raises an eyebrow. “What now?”

≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼When you tell him he looks adorable, he just sighs in that exasperated but affectionate way. Then, without looking at you, he mumbles, “As long as it makes you happy, I don’t mind.”

≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼Nanami genuinely wants to have a normal, cozy night with you. He really does. But then you curl up next to him, looking so soft in those matching Hello Kitty pajama pants, and suddenly, his thoughts aren’t so pure anymore. He exhales sharply, rubbing his temple like he’s fighting for his life. “You look adorable,” he murmurs, voice a little rougher than he intends. You don’t miss the way his fingers flex against his thigh like he’s restraining himself.

≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼At first, he’s just holding you an arm around your waist, a steady, grounding touch. But the longer you’re in his lap, the more his fingers drift tracing patterns against your hip, smoothing up your back, gripping your thigh just a little tighter than necessary. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until he hears you suck in a breath. “Apologies,” he says, clearing his throat and forcing himself to loosen his grip. “I didn’t mean to—” You shift in his lap, pressing against something very solid. Nanami tenses. His hands immediately snap back to your waist like he’s trying to regain control of himself, but his jaw clenches as he exhales sharply through his nose. “Please,” he murmurs, voice strained, “don’t move like that.”

≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼He thought they were cute funny, even but now all he can think about is how easy they’d be to pull off. The soft fabric bunching around your thighs as you shift against him, the way they ride low on your hips he’s trying to be respectful, truly, but the urge to just… take is becoming unbearable. “You’re making this very difficult for me,” he finally admits, his voice deep and controlled but his grip on your waist betraying him.

≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼Even when he’s rock hard beneath you, even when his breath is uneven and his fingers are digging into your skin, he still has the audacity to be gentle about it. “If you keep teasing me like this,” he murmurs against your ear, voice thick with restraint, “I might lose my composure.” And then, because he’s Nanami Kento, he still asks, “Would that be alright?”

≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼ The moment you give him permission, the second you whisper something sweet, needy, desperate Nanami snaps. His hands slide under your pajama pants, gripping your thighs as he flips you beneath him. His lips are everywhere your neck, your collarbone, your stomach. “These are cute,” he murmurs, tugging at the waistband, his breath hot against your skin. “But they need to come off.” with the way his fingers are already hooking under the fabric, his eyes dark and hungry, you know he’s not asking anymore.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You had picked out the matching Hello Kitty pajama pants as a joke, thinking it would be funny to see Nanami, a man who lived in crisp suits and an air of professionalism, lounging around in something so domestic and cute.

At first, it was funny. You had laughed, taking a picture of him sitting stiffly on the couch, frowning down at the little cartoon cat printed on his leg. But then you had curled up next to him, resting your head on his chest, letting his warmth seep into you.

Now Nanami is struggling.

His arm is wrapped securely around you, his fingers resting on your waist not moving, because he refuses to let them. But you’re soft, warm, pressing against him in all the right ways, and he’s gripping onto the last frayed threads of his self control.

“You look adorable,” he says, his voice perfectly even though he’s very aware of the way it’s lower than usual.

You hum against his chest, shifting slightly. His fingers twitch.

“I still can’t believe you agreed to wear this,” you say, running your hand down his stomach, innocently but your palm presses against his lower abdomen, just barely brushing beneath the hem of his hoodie. Nanami exhales slowly, controlled, like he’s trying to regulate himself.

“It’s not the worst thing you’ve made me wear,” he admits. A pause. “Though it may be the most distracting.”

You tilt your head up, catching the tight set of his jaw, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Your eyes flick down to his hand still resting on your waist flexing like he’s restraining himself.

Oh.

You press your palm against his stomach again, just a little lower this time and Nanami stiffens.

His grip on your waist tightens, and his breath comes out sharp.

“Apologies,” he says quickly, his hand immediately relaxing, like he’s forcing himself to pull back. “I didn’t mean to—”

You shift against him again, and this time, you feel it, something solid beneath you, something that wasn’t there when you first cuddled up next to him.

Nanami’s body locks up. His fingers snap back to your waist, holding you still as he lets out a long, slow exhale through his nose.

“Please,” he murmurs, voice strained, “don’t move like that.”

You blink up at him, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

His eyes darken. His fingers flex again, digging just slightly into your waist.

“You’re making this very difficult for me,” he finally admits, his voice deep, measured, controlled.

You bite your lip, shifting again, just to test him. The sharp inhale he takes, the slight clench of his jaw he’s trying so hard to be polite, to keep his hands steady, to maintain some level of restraint.

But you don’t want him to be restrained.

You reach up, trailing your fingers along his jaw, and his eyes flick to yours heated, dangerous.

“Satoru would’ve already pinned me down by now,” you muse, teasing. “Guess you’re not as desperate as I thought.”

Nanami moves before you can even process it.

One second, you’re settled against him, and the next, he’s flipping you onto your back, his body covering yours, his hands braced on either side of your head.

His voice is low, dark, frustrated as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“I am not Satoru,” he murmurs.

And then, before you can even react, his hips press down, rolling against you with slow, deliberate pressure.

You gasp, fingers curling into his hoodie, and Nanami lets out a shaky breath like he’s the one unraveling.

“You,” he murmurs, lips moving along your jaw, your throat, “are testing my patience.”

His hands slide under your hoodie, warm against your bare skin, fingers spreading across your ribs. His grip tightens, pulling you closer, and you shudder when his mouth ghosts over the sensitive spot below your ear.

“Would it be alright,” he murmurs, “if I lost my composure?”

His fingers hook under the waistband of your pajama pants, tugging just enough to send a clear message.

And with the way his eyes darken, his breath ragged against your skin you know that, the second you say yes, there will be no more patience. No more restraint.

Just Nanami, desperate, needy, and completely undone for you

And that’s how Nanami Kento, the most serious man alive, ends up standing in your bedroom wearing pink Hello Kitty pajama pants with his dress shirt still tucked in.

Geto Suguru

₍^. .^₎⟆Geto Pretends to Be Innocent, He acts like the matching Hello Kitty pyjama pants are just a cute, domestic moment. He lets you cuddle up to him on the couch, an arm draped lazily around your shoulders, stroking small circles into your skin. But does he have ulterior motives? yes. absolutely. The moment you shift in his lap a little too much, his grip tightens, and his voice drops into something low and commanding. “You’re squirming, sweetheart. You wouldn’t be trying to get my attention, would you?”

₍^. .^₎⟆Geto doesn’t ask he just pulls you into his lap when he wants you there. His large hands settle firmly on your hips, keeping you exactly where he wants you. And when you shift just slightly against him, he lets out a slow, amused hum. “Careful,” he murmurs, fingers flexing. “Unless you want me to handle you.”

₍^. .^₎⟆ One resting on your thigh, the other tracing slow, absentminded circles along your stomach, teasing just below the hem of your hoodie. He’s casual about it, like he’s not fully aware of the way your breath hitches every time his fingers dip just a little lower.

₍^. .^₎⟆He makes you think you’re in control, letting you straddle his lap, letting you run your hands through his hair, until he suddenly grips your wrist, stopping your movements, his dark eyes locked on you. “You look so confident sitting up there,” he muses, his voice smooth, dangerous. “Should I remind you who’s really in charge?”

₍^. .^₎⟆ Geto loves patience. He loves making you lose yours. He moves slow his hands tracing over your body, his lips brushing against your neck, whispering soft, teasing words that leave you squirming. “Look at you,” he murmurs, kissing along your throat. “So desperate, and I’ve barely even touched you.”

₍^. .^₎⟆He has no problem keeping the pants on while he teases you, pulling the waistband just low enough to let his fingers slip beneath. “You were so excited about these matching pajamas,” he muses, his smirk sharp. “You wouldn’t want me to ruin them too quickly, would you?”

₍^. .^₎⟆His voice alone is enough to break you. low, smooth, dark with amusement as he murmurs every filthy thing he’s about to do to you. “You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?” His hand tightens on your throat, not squeezing, just holding. enough to make you shiver. “Or do I need to teach you how to behave?”

₍^. .^₎⟆The Morning After, Geto wakes up first, watching you sleep with a knowing smirk before deliberately pulling on his Hello Kitty pajama pants again. When you stir awake, he stretches, looking completely satisfied. “Didn’t you say you wanted a cute, cozy night?” he teases, brushing his fingers along your bare thigh. “Because I think we got a little… off track.”

——-

You had expected some pushback, maybe a little teasing, maybe even a dramatic sigh of suffering, but what you hadn’t expected was for Suguru to slide into the Hello Kitty pajama pants so effortlessly. No complaints, no hesitation. Just a smooth, almost nonchalant acceptance that left you momentarily stunned.

So here you are now, snapping a picture of him looking utterly unbothered.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Geto leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching as you practically vibrate with excitement over the fact that he’s actually wearing the matching Hello Kitty pajama pants. The soft pink fabric contrasts against his dark hair and broad frame, hanging low on his hips in a way that should be illegal.

You nod, grinning. “Very much.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, stepping toward you, his movements smooth and deliberate. “You’re staring, sweetheart.” His voice is deep, rich, laced with amusement.

You cross your arms, trying so hard to act casual. “Because it’s funny.”

One dark brow lifts. “Is it?” He tilts his head, as he approaches you.

You don’t even realize you’re backing up until your legs hit the edge of the couch. Before you can react, he’s right there, caging you in without touching you. He leans down, voice dropping into that smooth, dangerous murmur that always unravels you.

“You sure it’s funny?” His fingers skim along the waistband of your pajama pants, slow and teasing. “Because you’re looking at me like you want something.”

Your breath catches, and his smirk deepens.

“You can tell me, love,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your ear. “I don’t mind giving you what you want.”

His hands slide lower, settling on your hips, pulling you flush against him. The heat of his body, the lazy way his fingers trace your skin—it’s too much and not enough at the same time.

“Suguru—”

He hums, dipping his head to press slow, lingering kisses down your throat. “Mmm. I love when you say my name like that.”

Your hands grip his arms for balance, your heart hammering in your chest. The cute, innocent pajama night. maybe not so much.

The night was supposed to be cute. Just you and Geto, curled up on the couch in your matching watching a movie, maybe sharing a few lazy kisses before bed.

It was supposed to be domestic, just a night of cuddling, a bad movie playing in the background, and maybe some sleepy kisses before bed.

But now?

Now you were in his lap, your legs straddling his thighs, your back arching as his large hands gripped your waist, and the look in his dark eyes was anything but sweet.

“You were so excited about these pajamas,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth, his fingers dragging leisurely beneath your hoodie, skating along the warm skin of your stomach. “Did you plan for this to happen?”

You try to respond, really, you do but the way his hands spread over your hips, controlling the way you move against him, has your thoughts scattering. His touch is firm, teasing, and when his thumbs press just right into your skin, your breath catches.

Geto notices. He always notices.

“You’ve been squirming all night,” he muses, tilting his head, that infuriatingly lazy smirk playing at his lips. “Shifting in my lap like you’re trying to get my attention.”

His lips brush your ear, his voice sinking into something dangerous.

“So tell me, sweetheart what exactly do you want?”

Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his hoodie, but before you can answer, he moves, rolling his hips up just right into you. A gasp escapes before you can stop it, your body tensing, and that that makes Geto chuckle, low and dark.

“Ah,” he hums, his grip tightening. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

You bite your lip, heat coiling low in your stomach. “You’re such a-”

He tsks, catching your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up so you have no choice but to look at him. His dark eyes gleam with amusement, but there’s something wicked beneath it something that sends a sharp pulse of need straight through you.

“Watch your mouth,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lips, pressing just enough to part them. “Or I’ll have to remind you how to behave.”

Your heart pounds, but Geto only smirks, his fingers trailing lower, his palm resting lightly over your throat. He doesn’t squeeze doesn’t need to. The unspoken command is clear: be still. Let me handle you.

And god, he does.

His lips are on your neck before you can even process it, kissing, biting, marking, each drag of his mouth slow and possessive. His hands grip your hips, forcing you to grind down against him, and the friction between you has heat pooling between your legs way too quickly.

“You’re already shaking,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice laced with amusement. “I’ve barely even started.”

You make a sound between a whimper and a protest, but Geto only chuckles, his hands trailing down to the waistband of your pajama pants, fingers slipping beneath the fabric.

“You wanted to keep these on, right?” he teases, tugging them just low enough to make you gasp. “Or should I take my time ruining you?”

You shudder, clutching at his hoodie, but Geto doesn’t move. He just watches you, patient, expectant, his grip steady on your waist.

“Go on,” he murmurs, dark eyes gleaming. “Be a good girl and ask me for it.”

And with the way he’s looking at you, his smirk sharp, his grip firm, his breath warm against your throat you already know you’ll break for him.

You always do.

"I can fix him" this "I can make him worse" that Pathetic. I can love him so much that it changes the course of the entire narrative.

Shoko Ieiri

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡When you pull out the matching Hello Kitty pajama pants, Shoko gives you the most unimpressed look imaginable. She takes a slow drag from her cigarette, exhales, and deadpans, “You’re serious?”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡You expect her to fight you on it, maybe tease you a little, but she just shrugs. “Eh. As long as they’re comfy.” And just like that, she puts them on like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡It’s unfair how good she looks, even in pink Hello Kitty pajama pants, an oversized hoodie, and messy hair. She’s lounging on the couch, one leg draped over the armrest, looking like a model. “How do you do that?” you ask, genuinely baffled.She smirks, tilting her head just enough to make your stomach flip. “Wouldn’t you like to know, pretty girl?”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡Shoko has a teasing streak a mile long, and she loves seeing how far she can push you. She’ll straddle your lap, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin, her breath warm against your ear all while still wearing those ridiculously cute pajama pants.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡She acts like she’s just being playful, just having fun, but you know better. The way her nails drag down your back, the way she tilts her head and gives you that look yeah, she’s fully aware of what she’s doing.“What?” she asks, feigning innocence as her fingers dip just under your waistband. “You wanted a cozy night in, didn’t you?”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ She’ll nuzzle into your neck, her voice soft, lazy, dangerous. “You wanna beg, don’t you?” she murmurs, lips ghosting over your pulse point. “Bet you’d sound so pretty.” And when you do whimper? She grins.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡Shoko has no shame when it comes to getting a reaction out of you. She’ll let out the softest, most sinful little sighs against your skin, just to watch you lose your composure.“You’re so easy to tease,” she murmurs, lips grazing your throat before she bites down, just enough to make you gasp.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡stretching every moment just to make you squirm. Loves the way you get impatient when she moves too slow.“You’re already needy?” she teases, nipping at your earlobe. “I haven’t even started yet.”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡She’ll keep them on as long as possible, just to torture you, but the second you snap and try to take control? That’s when she really starts having fun.She smirks up at you, amused, as you pin her down. “Finally lost your patience, huh?” she hums, lifting her hips just enough to help you slide them off. “Took you long enough.”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡The pajama pants are nowhere to be found, and Shoko looks way too satisfied with herself. She stretches out, giving you a slow once-over before smirking. “So,” she muses, voice still husky from the night before, “wanna get matching panties next?”

—-

You should have known Shoko was going to be a terror for the night the second she slipped into the matching Hello Kitty pajama pants. She did not say anything about them, did not tease you right away. She just pulled them on, stretched like a cat, and flopped onto your couch like she owned the place.

The real problem was not even the pants. It was the look she had been giving you all night. That lazy, knowing little smirk, the slow drag of her gaze as she watched you from across the room, the way she stretched her arms over her head just to make you look. She knew exactly what she was doing, and the worst part was that she was enjoying every second of it.

At first, she kept it innocent. She curled up next to you, tucked herself against your side, and pretended to care about the movie playing in the background. It was comfortable, familiar, warm. But then her fingers started moving.

Then she shifted.

At first, it seemed like she was just adjusting her position, getting comfortable. But then she threw a leg over yours, settling fully into your lap, arms looping lazily around your neck, and suddenly, focusing on the movie was not an option anymore.

You swallowed hard, hands coming up to grip her hips. “Shoko.”

She tilted her head, looking way too amused. “Hmm?”

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

Her smirk widened. “Doing what on purpose?”

Oh, she was evil.

You opened your mouth to call her out on it, but before you could, she rolled her hips. Slow, deliberate. Your breath caught, and your fingers dug into her waist before you could stop yourself. That only made her chuckle, low and satisfied.

“Look at you,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face like she was not actively ruining you. “You’re already squirming.”

Your breath came out shakier than you wanted. “You’re—”

Before you could finish, she leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your throat. Her lips were warm, her breath soft, and when her teeth scraped lightly against your skin, your fingers flexed against her hips.

Shoko grinned against your neck.

“Poor thing,” she coos, tilting her head. “You look so flustered. Should I slow down?”

You open your mouth probably to tell her no. you want more but before you can even form a thought, she moves, rolling her hips against yours with slow, deliberate pressure. Your breath stutters, hands instinctively flying to her thighs, and that makes her chuckle.

“Oh? Finally touching me?” Her voice is dripping with amusement as she leans in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your neck. “I thought you were trying to behave.”

Her hands slip beneath your hoodie, nails dragging up your stomach, featherlight and teasing. “You’re always so cute when you try to pretend you have self control.”

You squeeze her thighs in warning, and she only laughs, pressing her lips to your ear.

“Yeah?” she hums, shifting against you again, this time with purpose. “Then show me, sweetheart.”

Her hands slid under your hoodie, fingers trailing up your stomach, slow and teasing, tracing along your ribs like she was in no rush at all. And that was the worst part. She was not. She was taking her time, dragging out every touch, every little movement, just to watch you react.

“Shoko,” you exhaled, tilting your head back as she kissed a slow path down to your collarbone.

“Mm?” she hummed, like she was not the reason your pulse was racing.

You tightened your grip on her hips, trying to regain even a little bit of control, but she just laughed, low and knowing, before rolling her hips against yours again.

This time, you whimpered.

And god, that did something to her.

“Fuck,” she muttered, her voice dipping into something rough, something dangerous. She pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes dark, lips parted. “You sound so pretty when you do that.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you bit your lip, but Shoko just grinned, dragging her fingers down to the waistband of your pajama pants, toying with the fabric.

“You gonna be good for me?” she murmured, hooking her fingers just under the hem and tugging, just a little.

Your breath stuttered. “Yes.”

She hummed, pressing her lips just below your ear, her voice a little too pleased.

“Then let’s get these off, sweetheart.”

Okay so... theres this thing called being a super graphic ultra modern girl and me & my girl well. we've gone pro

⋆˚✿˖° ❝𝗜𝘁 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗱𝗲𝗱❞ ⋆˚✿˖°

────୨ৎ────

Geto Suguru x Reader

Gojo Satoru x Reader

────୨ৎ────

⋆˚✿˖° 2. I’ve Played these Games Before

Headcannon, the men are stupid

if you missed the last chapter and want more-> masterlist

₍^. .^₎⟆ Geto sighed, stretching his arms as he strolled toward his dorm. The study session had been useless (as expected), but at least it had been entertaining. Though, if he was being honest, the best part of the evening had been watching Gojo flail around in real-time romantic panic.

He smirked to himself. That was going to be fun to watch unfold.

Not that he cared much about the bet itself. That was just a way to mess with Gojo, to see him squirm. Nothing more.

His plan was simple he’d treat you exactly the same as always. Calm, confident, teasing. Unlike Gojo, he didn’t need to rely on some ridiculous strategy. He wasn’t about to start googling psychological tricks like a lovesick idiot.

No, he’d just make a few subtle changes. More intentional eye contact. More casual touches. More moments of quiet attention, the kind that made people feel like they were the only one in the room.

At least, that’s what he thought, until lunchtime the next day, when Gojo started getting on his nerves.

Because, of course, Gojo wasn’t capable of subtlety.

“Wow,” Gojo whistled, sliding into the seat across from you. “Look at you, already eating without me? I thought we had something special.”

You looked up mid bite, a spoonful of rice halfway to your mouth. “Gojo, you were literally behind me in line.”

“Details,” he waved off, dramatically propping his chin in his hand. “But you know, I was thinking of eating alone today… until I saw you, and my heart just knew I couldn’t let that happen.”

You snorted. “Sounds rough, buddy.”

His sunglasses slid down his nose just enough for you to see his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You have no idea.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, taking another bite of your food. Gojo watched you closely, subtly shifting in his seat. Step one—mirroring movements. You lifted your spoon, and he lazily picked up his chopsticks. You leaned forward slightly, and he mirrored the action. He was subtle about it, of course. Natural. Completely normal. Definitely not weird.

Except you paused, squinting at him.

“…Are you copying me?”

Gojo choked on air. “Wh—what? No! Pfft. I’m just sitting.”

Your grin widened. “Satoru, are you copying me?”

He waved his chopsticks. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

You squinted a second longer, then shrugged, going back to your food. “Mhm. Sure.”

Gojo let out a silent breath. Okay. Maybe less obvious on that one.

Right. Step two—eye contact.

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm as he gazed at you, letting his signature smirk tug at his lips. A confident, roguish expression that, historically, had driven people wild.

You, however, just blinked at him. “Are you- why are you staring at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re waiting for me to read your mind or something.”

Gojo sighed dramatically. “I was just admiring the way the cafeteria lights shine in your eyes. Very mesmerizing. Stunning, even.”

You blinked again. “Satoru, the cafeteria lights are fluorescent.”

“Exactly,” he grinned. “Yet, somehow, you make them work.”

You just groaned, shaking your head. “You are so weird.”

He ignored the minor setback and moved to Step three—casual physical touch. Casual. Natural. Smooth. So he reached across the table and lightly flicked your forehead.

You recoiled, dramatically grabbing your head. “Ow?!”

“Oops.” He grinned. “Slipped.”

“You slipped into flicking me?”

“Crazy, right?”

You narrowed your eyes before retaliating, smacking his arm with the back of your spoon. “Oops,” you mimicked, grinning. “I slipped.”

Gojo laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, truce.” You huffed, still smiling, before turning your attention back to your food.

Step four—make them laugh.

He was already a pro at that. Easy. No problem. You weren’t in a bad mood or anything, just a little spaced out, quietly picking at your food while Geto and Shoko talked beside you. Normally, you’d be more engaged, but today, your mind just wasn’t all there.

Gojo, of course, noticed. And he could not let that slide.

“Alright, I’m making an official declaration,” he announced, leaning forward with a grin. “I’m getting her—” he pointed dramatically at you “—to laugh before lunch is over.”

Shoko didn’t even look up from her juice box. “Shouldn’t take long. Five minutes.”

“Two,” Geto said, smirking. “He’s predictable.”

You blinked at them. “Wait—what? I do laugh.”

“Not enough,” Gojo countered, watching you with exaggerated scrutiny. “Not the real, ugly, snorting kind. That’s the goal.”

“You don’t need that,” you said flatly.

“Oh, but I do.”

He leaned forward, hands clasped like he was about to deliver something profound. “Okay. Picture this. I’m fighting this cursed spirit the other day—big, ugly thing, smelled like a sewer. And it looks at me and goes, ‘Hey, aren’t you that discount Kakashi?’”

Silence.

Geto exhaled through his nose, mildly amused. Shoko just sighed. You gave Gojo a slow blink.

Gojo placed a hand on his chest, scandalized. “Nothing? That was comedy gold.”

“That was sad,” Geto corrected.

“Okay, fine, I can do better,” Gojo said, shaking it off before dramatically throwing himself against Geto’s side. “Bro, I can’t believe this. My own best friend, laughing before she does. This is a betrayal. How do I go on?”

“Quieter,” Geto muttered, shoving him off.

Gojo ignored him. “Alright, last attempt.” He turned to you, suddenly serious. “If you don’t laugh in the next ten seconds, I’m taking your dessert.”

Your head snapped up. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

And then, as if to prove he meant business, he grabbed two onigiri from Geto’s tray, wiggled them like little sock puppets, and in the most high pitched, overly dramatic voice you’d ever heard, went:

“Oh no, Gojo-sama, please spare us! We are but humble rice balls!”

He made one onigiri turn to the other. “Brother, I don’t think he’s going to show us mercy…”

The second onigiri shook dramatically. “No, we still have so much to live for! My wife, my children, who will tell them what happened to me?”

“I will, dear brother,” the first one promised solemnly. “I will tell them of your bravery!”

“No!” The second onigiri screamed (or rather, Gojo screamed for it). “You must live on! Let me be the one to—AHHH!”

And with that, Gojo chucked the onigiri into his mouth and took an exaggerated, victorious bite.

You burst out laughing. The kind of laugh you couldn’t hold in if you tried, the kind that made you lean forward onto the table, shoulders shaking as you gasped for air.

Gojo pointed at you with a mouthful of rice. “Boom. Victory.”

Shoko sighed, sipping her juice. “Took longer than I thought.”

Geto shook his head. “I’m never letting you near my food again.”

But Gojo wasn’t listening. He was too busy basking in his success, leaning toward you with a cocky grin. “Told you you couldn’t resist my charm.”

“You’re an idiot,” you wheezed, still catching your breath.

“And yet,” Gojo said, stealing your dessert anyway, “an idiot with perfect comedic timing.” You groaned I’m reply.

He grinned, triumphant.

Then, Step five, say their name more. “Hey, (Y/N),” he drawled, propping his chin on his hand.

You raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Satoru?”

He blinked. “Uh.”

Damn it. He didn’t actually have anything to say. He’d just read in some stupid article that saying your name was supposed to make you subconsciously more interested in him.

“…Nothing,” he said smoothly, smiling. “Just wanted to remind you how nice your name sounds.”

You gave him a look. “Right.”

A beat of silence. Then

“Satoru,” you said, voice suspiciously sweet.

Gojo grinned. “Yeah?”

“You are being weird.”

“Me?” He placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended. “Weird? Perish the thought.”

You just laughed, shaking your head as you finished the last of your food. “Anyway, as fun as this has been, Im a little thirsty.”

Gojo gasped. “What, you’re leaving me?”

“You’ll survive.” You smirked, standing up. “Probably.”

He clutched his chest dramatically. “(Y/N), your cruelty knows no bounds.”

You just rolled your eyes but smiled. “I’ll be back I want to get a other juice Gojo”

And then you were gone, disappearing into the cafeteria crowd.Gojo sighed, dropping his head onto the table.Well. That could’ve gone better. He pulled out his phone, opening his notes app.

The Gojo Satoru Foolproof Love Plan™ (That Hopefully Works and Doesn’t End in Humiliation)

1. Mirroring movements (FAILED. TOO OBVIOUS.)

2. Eye contact (??? Unclear. Need feedback.)

3. Casual touches (Flicking? Bad idea. Find alternative.)

4. Make them laugh (SUCCESS. OBVIOUSLY.)

5. Say their name more (Awkward. Do not force it.)

6. Grand romantic gesture??? (Not yet. Too soon.)

7. Don’t mess this up. (Currently… TBD.)

Gojo sighed, locking his phone.

—

Geto watched from across the lunch table, fingers idly tapping against his drink, as Gojo leaned way too far into your space. He dropped your name into the conversation at least three times in the last minute, nudged your arm, and let out an exaggerated laugh at something you’d said, something that wasn’t that funny. Then when you got up he looked straight at gojo.

“Alright,” Geto drawled, resting his chin in his palm. “Are you trying to scare them away?”

Gojo shot him a look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Geto just raised an eyebrow. Gojo’s eye twitched slightly. Shoko, who had been watching this unfold with the air of someone witnessing a tragic yet hilarious accident, snorted. “You’re overdoing it,” she told Gojo.

“No, I’m not” Gojo started, then cut himself off, visibly forcing himself to look less desperate. He leaned back, feigning ease. “I mean, pfft. No way. This is all natural.”

Geto exhaled slowly, leveling Gojo with a knowing look.

Because here was the thing, Gojo wasn’t bad at this. He was naturally charismatic. He could be smooth. But when he actually cared about something? When it actually mattered?

He became a disaster, it was obvious that this mattered. Which meant Geto had the upper hand for now. He allowed himself a small smirk before turning back to you as you came back. Unlike Gojo, he wouldn’t trip over himself. He wouldn’t force it. He’d just let things fall into place.

This was going to be easy.

Except.

As lunch went on, Geto noticed something.

At first, Gojo’s fumbling had been amusing. Watching the ever-confident Satoru practically trip over his own feet was undeniably entertaining. But the longer Geto watched, the more he started to realize why Gojo was messing up so badly. Because Gojo flirted all the time. He teased, he charmed half the jujitsu world was wrapped around his finger without him even trying.

Gojo actually liked you.

The thought settled like a weight in Geto’s chest. His fingers tapped idly against the table.

He glanced at you. You were laughing, completely oblivious to the quiet crisis happening across the table. And something about that sent an uncomfortable twist through his stomach.

He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like this was serious. He was just messing with Gojo. That’s what he’d told himself. That’s all this was.

…Right?

Then why did his gaze linger a little too long when you smiled? Why did it bother him when Gojo made you laugh first? Why did it feel like he was always second to Gojo?

Because that was how it always went, wasn’t it?

Gojo was loud, blinding, impossible to ignore. The center of attention in every room. And Geto?

He was there. A presence. A shadow. Not invisible, not overlooked but never first. watching Gojo fight for your attention, watching you react to him, laugh at him. The weight in Geto’s chest grew heavier. His grip on his drink tightened.

No.

This wasn’t about Gojo. It wasn’t about the bet. It wasn’t about proving a point. This was about you. Because he didn’t just want to win. He wanted you and for you to know he wont always come second

He exhaled slowly, leaning back in his seat, watching as Gojo tried (and failed) to act casual.

—

“You know, (Y/n),” Gojo drawled, slinging an arm over the back of your chair like he owned the place. His fingers drummed lazily against the wood, his usual cocky smirk in place. “I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s a first,” you quipped without missing a beat, eyes still focused on your food as you casually poked at your meal.

Across the table, Geto exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. Shoko, perched beside him with her cigarette balanced between two fingers, barely hid her smirk as she took a slow drag.

Gojo clicked his tongue, feigning offense. “Rude. I was about to say something really profound, actually.

Finally, you glanced up at him, eyes sparkling with playful curiosity. “Oh? Enlighten me, oh wise and powerful one.”

Gojo grinned wider, but Geto, who knew him better than anyone, noticed the way his fingers tapped just a little too quickly against the table. A nervous tic, barely noticeable. Interesting.

“Well, now I don’t want to with that attitude” Gojo continued, voice dripping with forced nonchalance. “I was just thinking, don’t you think we make a great pair?”

You blinked at him, head tilting slightly with a smirk. “A pair of what, exactly?”

For the first time since opening his mouth, Gojo hesitated. It was only for a fraction of a second, but in that brief pause, Geto could see the exact moment doubt crept into his friend’s mind.

“A pair of… cool people?” Gojo finally offered, flashing a sheepish smile, one hand adjusting his sunglasses even though they hadn’t moved.

There was a beat of silence. Shoko exhaled smoke through her nose, unimpressed. Geto took a slow sip of his drink, watching the interaction unfold with the air of a man witnessing a slow motion car crash painful, but fascinating.

Meanwhile, you squinted at Gojo, head tilting slightly, as if trying to decipher some kind of hidden meaning. “Did you just try to flirt with me by suggesting we… form a club?”

“No” Gojo started, but before he could finish, Geto decided to cut in. Because, really, this was just too good to pass up.

“Oh, I dunno,” he interjected smoothly, tilting his head slightly in your direction. His voice carried the perfect balance of amusement and intrigue, just enough to make Gojo twitch. “I think he’s onto something. You are pretty cool, after all.”

That got your attention. Your lips curled into a delighted grin as you turned to Geto. “Someone recognizes my greatness!” You placed a dramatic hand over your chest. “It’s about time.” You stick out your tongue to gojo

“Get I’m your knees and say I’m cool and you’re not ” You pointed your chopsticks at gojo,

Geto hummed, pleased with himself as he set his drink down. “I only speak the truth.”

Gojo’s eye twitched. Oh, come on.

Shoko exhaled another puff of smoke, watching the scene unfold like it was the best entertainment she’d had in weeks. This is a mess, she thought. A hilarious, glorious mess.

Gojo, meanwhile, looked like he was seconds away from combusting. He narrowed his eyes at Geto, who looked far too pleased with himself, before quickly shaking it off.

“Anyway,” Gojo cut back in, clearly trying to regain control of the conversation. He turned to you again, tapping your shoulder lightly as his grin returned. “What I meant was, you and me? We work well together, y’know? Great chemistry and all that.”

You smirk at him. “Like lab partners?”

There was a moment of silence and then Shoko choked on her drink. Geto coughed lightly, raising a fist to his mouth to cover his smirk. But internally? He was dying.

Gojo froze. His jaw clenched for just a fraction of a second before he forced a grin, his usual confidence cracking under the weight of sheer secondhand embarrassment. “Exactly like lab partners,” he said, voice painfully flat.

“Cool!” You beamed, completely oblivious to Gojo’s growing inner turmoil. “Let me know when we’re dissecting frogs, I guess.” Then you for up and ran to utahime for a moment when you see her aggressively waving you over.

Gojo groaned, flopping back in his seat like a man defeated.

Shoko wiped a tear from her eye, shaking her head. “This is actually painful to watch.”

“Not for me,” Geto mused, barely containing his smirk as he leaned back.

Gojo turned his head just enough to glare at him. “You suck.”

“Aw, Satoru,” Geto drawled, resting his chin in his palm. “Don’t be such a sore loser.”

“Losing implies I’ve lost,” Gojo shot back, sitting up with renewed determination. “And I never lose.”

Geto merely raised an eyebrow. “Sure,” he said smoothly, sipping his drink again. But inside, he was still thinking about the way you had laughed at his words. The way you had turned to him so easily, bright eyed and happy.

And just like that, what was supposed to be a harmless bet felt like something else entirely. Something he wasn’t willing to lose.

—

After lunch wrapped up, Gojo had been dragged away by some underclassmen pestering him for help though, judging by his exaggerated groan of suffering, you’d think they were sentencing him to life in prison. Shoko had peeled off shortly after, muttering something about a nap and waving lazily over her shoulder.

That left you and Geto.

The two of you walked side by side through the courtyard, the afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement. It was warm but not unpleasant, with a soft breeze rustling through the trees. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance.

“So,” Geto said, hands slipping casually into his pockets. “Lab partners, huh?”

You grinned, glancing up at him. “What? You don’t think me and Gojo have great chemistry?”

Geto hummed, pretending to consider it. “More like chaotic combustion.”

You laughed, nudging his arm playfully. “Okay, thats just basic math when you out us I’m a room together”

The sound of your laughter settled into Geto’s chest, warm and lingering. He’d always liked that about you how easy it was for you to find amusement in things, how naturally lighthearted you could be. It was one of the reasons he enjoyed your company so much.

He wasn’t even sure when it had started this noticing of yours. The way you smiled when you were really, genuinely happy. The way your hands moved when you talked excitedly. The way your eyes lit up when you were being playful, like they had during lunch when you had turned to him.

Yeah. He was noticing a lot more than he used to.

“You were really enjoying yourself back there,” you mused, shooting him a knowing look.

Geto smirked. “Can you blame me? Watching Gojo crash and burn is one of life’s simplest pleasures.”

You laughed again, and he found himself watching you a little too closely.

It had started as a joke. Just a bet. A way to mess with Gojo and watch him struggle for once.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted.

Maybe it was because you always seemed to get along with him so easily, without all the dramatics and fanfare that followed Gojo everywhere. Maybe it was because teasing you came as naturally as breathing, and you always played along. Maybe it was because, when you looked at him, it never felt like he was standing in Gojo’s shadow.

Because Geto had spent years watching people flock to Gojo first. It wasn’t something he resented, not really it was just the way things were. Gojo was loud, larger than life, the sun in the center of everyone’s orbit.

But now, as you walked beside him, smiling and laughing and completely unaware of the thoughts creeping into his head he wondered what it would be like if, just this once, he wasn’t second.

If you chose him.

“Alright, then,” you said suddenly, shaking him from his thoughts. “If Gojo and I are chaotic combustion, what kind of chemistry do we have?”

You grinned up at him, eyes bright with curiosity. Playful. Innocent. But for the first time all afternoon, Geto felt just the slightest bit off balance. But for the first time all afternoon, Geto felt just the slightest bit off balance. Because for all his usual confidence, for all his careful, patient planning, he hadn’t been expecting that.

His smirk lingered, but this time, it took a fraction of a second longer to form.

“Hmm,” he mused, tilting his head in thought. “I’d say… slow burn.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, is that a real chemistry thing or—”

“Who knows?” Geto said smoothly, flashing you a teasing smile before stepping ahead. “Guess you’ll have to figure it out.”

You gaped at him. “Oh, now you’re being mysterious?”

He only laughed, glancing back over his shoulder. “What can I say? Gotta keep things interesting.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned as you jogged to catch up with him and Geto, for all his patience, was beginning to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wanted to win this more than he thought.

The neon lights of Tokyo buzzed overhead as the four of you wandered the crowded streets, blending into the after-school . It was that perfect in between time too early for the late-night crowd, but just late enough that everything felt a little more exciting.

And, as usual, Gojo was causing problems.

“You dragged us out here,” you sighed, watching Gojo pat down his pockets like he’d just realized he forgot something important. “How do you not know where we’re going?”

“I do know!” Gojo huffed, placing a hand over his heart like you’d mortally wounded him. “I’m just giving the night a sense of mystery.”

“You lost the directions, didn’t you?” Shoko deadpanned.

“Have some faith in me,” Gojo scoffed.

“I did,” Geto mused. “Then I watched you confidently lead us to a random 7-Eleven last time because you thought there was a ‘secret food market’ underground.”

Gojo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Are none of you gonna let that go?”

“No,” you, Geto, and Shoko said in unison.

Gojo grumbled under his breath, but before he could keep digging his own grave, you gestured toward a bright, bustling arcade across the street.

“Let’s just go in there,” you suggested. Pointing towards the arcade near by “Since our fearless leader clearly has no actual plan.”

Gojo perked up. “Hey! I did have a plan—”

“Oh my god, shut up and walk,” Shoko sighed, already making her way inside.

—

The place was packed, rows of flashing game screens, the constant clinking of tokens, and the occasional victorious yell from someone landing a big win. It was the kind of that was just fun enough to be energizing rather than overwhelming.

Immediately, Gojo beelined for a claw machine. “I’m winning something for you,” he declared, pointing at you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you’ll win.”

Gojo grinned, cracking his knuckles. “Bold of you to underestimate me.”

“Gojo, I watched you spend 3,000 yen last time trying to win a keychain,” Geto reminded him, his voice thoroughly unimpressed.

“Okay, but this time is different,” Gojo insisted. “This time, I have motivation.”

You snorted. “Sure you do.”

Shoko rolled her eyes and wandered off to find a rhythm game, and Geto turned to you, smirking. “Wanna bet on how many tries it takes before he gives up?”

You grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

Thirty Minutes Later…

Gojo was slumped against the claw machine, forehead pressed against the glass, as the plush he had almost grabbed slipped back into the pile for what had to be the twentieth time.

“…This thing is rigged,” he muttered.

Geto, sipping his drink, hummed. “Mmm. Sure.”

You held out a hand toward him. “Pay up.”

Geto sighed but placed a few coins into your palm. “I should’ve known better.”

Shoko strolled back over, glancing at Gojo’s miserable form. “Wow. Are we gonna have to carry you out of here?”

Gojo groaned dramatically. “Leave me. I belong to the void now.”

You rolled your eyes before stepping up to the machine, slipping in a coin. “Here,” you said, gripping the controls. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

Gojo peeled himself off the glass just enough to watch, skeptical. “If you win this on your first try, I’m actually gonna lose my mind.”

You maneuvered the claw, timed the drop perfectly, and…….Bam!

“Your mind better be severally lost when I turn around” you smirk while holding it out to the three of them. Then talking a look at the white haired guy.

“Here, since you worked so hard for it”

Gojo blinked. Then he stared at you. “…You’re giving it to me?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. You worked hard for it.”

Gojo expected you to rub it in, to make some smug comment about how much better you were, but you didn’t. You just… gave it to him. No teasing, no conditions. Just an easy, casual, Here, this is yours.

Something in his chest actually ached.

He took the plush from your hands, staring down at it like it was something important.

“…Wow,” he muttered, voice a little quieter than usual. “So this is what kindness feels like.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“No, no, this is a life changing moment,” Gojo insisted, holding the plush to his chest. “I feel so appreciated right now.”

Geto smirked. “You’re gonna sleep with that thing, aren’t you?”

Gojo scoffed. “Of course not.” He absolutely was.

Shoko yawned. “Can we go now, or do you need a moment to emotionally bond with the plush?”

Gojo pouted. “Let me have this.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “C’mon, Gojo.”

As the four of you made your way back outside, Gojo fell into step beside you, still clutching the plush. He glanced at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Maybe he had completely embarrassed himself tonight, but… This was definitely the best prize he’d ever won.

—

The four of you ended up at a cozy little ramen shop tucked into a side street, the kind of place with handwritten menus, warm lighting, and the rich smell of broth and grilled meats filling the air. It was nothing fancy, but it was good, one of Geto’s usual spots, which meant it was guaranteed to be great.

The ramen shop was cozy, the kind of place that felt like a well kept secret. The handwritten menus, the warm yellow glow from the hanging lanterns, the smell of rich broth and grilled skewers, it all made for a welcoming atmosphere. A place you could linger, talk, enjoy good food without pretense.

Gojo was still holding the small, plush keychain you’d won for him at the arcade earlier, absentmindedly squeezing it between his fingers as you all slid into a booth. He had insisted he didn’t need it, but you had seen the way his face lit up when you handed it to him, how he twirled it in his hands the entire walk over. He hadn’t let go of it since.

Shoko and Gojo immediately launched into a heated debate over toppings, something about whether bamboo shoots were a necessary addition or a waste of space.

You and Geto exchanged a glance. Unspoken solidarity.

“You wanna share something?” Geto’s voice was casual, smooth, as he leaned an elbow against the table, turning his full attention to you.

You blinked. “Uh"…

Gojo, mid argument with Shoko, snapped his head around so fast you thought he might get whiplash.

“What?”

Geto hummed, reaching for the menu, eyes glinting with amusement. “I was just saying we could split something.” His gaze flicked back to you, warm and steady. “Figured you’d get tired of Gojo stealing food off your plate.”

You scoffed, tilting your head in mock consideration. “That’s… actually a really good point.”

Gojo gasped, pointing an accusatory chopstick at Geto. “I do not steal—”

Shoko snorted. “You ate half my gyoza last week.”

Gojo immediately turned to her, defensive. “You weren’t gonna finish them!”

“You didn’t ask.”

Geto chuckled, nudging the menu toward you. “So? What looks good?”

You skimmed the options, feeling the weight of Geto’s gaze. He wasn’t rushing you, wasn’t pushing, just waiting, watching, letting you make the decision. It was subtle, but it felt different from his usual teasing. More intentional.

Meanwhile, across the table, Gojo had gone suspiciously quiet.

He kept fidgeting with the plush you won him, his fingers idly squeezing its soft fabric. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t a big deal, so what if Geto was pulling out his smooth operator act? That’s just how he was. And it wasn’t like Gojo cared. Except… he kind of did.When the food finally arrived, the table filled with steaming bowls of ramen, plates of dumplings, and skewers of grilled meat. Gojo had ordered the biggest portion possible…partly out of habit, partly as some unspoken form of protest.

Geto slid the bowl of spicy miso ramen between the two of you. “You want the first bite?”

You shrugged. “I don’t mind—”

Before you could finish, Geto picked up a spoon, scooped up a bit of broth, and lifted it toward you

.

“Here. Try it.”

You blinked. Gojo blinked. Shoko, sipping her drink, raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“…Are you feeding me?” you asked, both amused and caught off guard.

Geto smirked. “Only if you want me to.”

Gojo’s chopsticks snapped in half.

You chuckled, shaking your head before taking the spoon from Geto yourself. “I can handle it, thanks.”

Geto leaned back, looking very pleased with himself. “Fair enough.”

Gojo, meanwhile, was gripping what was left of his broken chopsticks, staring down at his ramen like he was contemplating the meaning of life.

Shoko nudged him with her elbow. “You good?”

Gojo didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”

Shoko smirked. “Uh-huh.”

Gojo kept stirring his ramen. He wasn’t going to say anything because what was there to say? Geto wasn’t doing anything technically wrong. It was just his usual, effortless charm. The same charm that made people naturally gravitate toward him. But tonight, for some reason, it was getting under Gojo’s skin. He knew Geto knew how he played things, knew how easy it was for him to slip into that role. And Gojo had always been fine with that. They were best friends, partners in crime. But now? Now, watching Geto lean just a little closer, watching you smile and laugh without hesitation Gojo felt something simmering in his chest. A feeling he didn’t quite want to name.

Shoko nudged him again. “You sure? Because you’re either planning murder or having an existential crisis over there.”

Gojo exhaled, flopping dramatically against the booth. “I’m just thinking.”

Shoko’s smirk widened. “Thinking about what, exactly?”

Gojo scowled. “Nothing.”

She didn’t press, but she didn’t have to. They both knew exactly what he was thinking.

Across the table, you and Geto were still chatting, sharing your ramen without a second thought.

Gojo finally dropped his chopsticks with a dramatic sigh, flopping back against the booth. “Okay, enough about feeding each other. We get it. You guys have basic teamwork skills.”

Geto, completely unfazed, turned to him with a lazy grin. “You jealous, Satoru?”

Shoko bit back a laugh.

Gojo rolled his eyes. “Me? Jealous? Of you?” He let out a loud, exaggerated laugh before immediately turning to you. “Hey. You wanna try my ramen?”

You gave him a flat look. “Gojo, you got the most boring option on the menu.”

Gojo gasped. “Excuse me? Classic shoyu ramen is a timeless masterpiece.”

Geto chuckled, watching the exchange with amusement. “Yeah, nothing says excitement like a safe choice.”

Gojo pointed a dramatic finger at him. “I don’t need your judgment, Suguru.”

“Not jealous,” he muttered. “Just… not that hungry anymore.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

You, however, nudged his arm lightly. “Gojo, you literally ordered the biggest bowl on the menu.”

He glanced at you, blue eyes flickering with something unreadable for a second before he shrugged. “Guess my appetite’s smaller than I thought.”

Lies.

Gojo always ate like he had a bottomless pit for a stomach. But tonight, the food tasted a little bland.

Geto leaned back in his seat, watching him carefully. He didn’t say anything, but the way his fingers tapped lightly against the table made it clear he noticed the shift.

For the rest of the meal, Gojo stayed a little quieter than usual, only half-listening as you and Geto talked. He didn’t make a fuss. Didn’t push the usual playful banter. But every now and then, his gaze would flicker toward Geto, then back to you. And for the first time in a long time, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, He was already too late.

Geto just smiled, relaxed and confident as ever. He didn’t need to gloat, Gojo was already riled up enough for the both of them.

Across the table, Shoko stretched her arms over her head, looking just about done with the two of them. “Alright, children. Eat your food before the shop kicks us out.”

Gojo grumbled under his breath before finally taking an actual bite of his ramen. But as he chewed, he glanced at Geto, then at you, and then back at Geto. He didn’t say anything. But in the back of his mind, he was already planning his next move.

——

The streets were quieter now, the distant hum of the city fading as the four of you made your way back to Jujutsu High. The crisp night air nipped at your skin, but the warmth of the ramen shop still clung to you, the scent of broth and grilled meat lingering in your clothes.

It should have been a perfect night. A rare one, even. Just the four of you, no missions, no training, no looming sense of responsibility. But despite the easy conversation and the comfortable rhythm of your walk, something felt… off. Or maybe different was the better word.

You weren’t sure when you started noticing it. Maybe it was back at the ramen shop, or maybe even earlier at the arcade, but the feeling had been creeping up on you all night, just subtle enough to ignore, until now.

Geto had always been smooth. Confident in a way that never felt overdone, just natural. He had a way of making things seem effortless, like he wasn’t even trying. But tonight, there was something pointed about it. The way he leaned in just a little closer, the way he found reasons to keep the conversation between just the two of you, the way his gaze lingered a second too long.

And then there was Gojo. Normally, he’d be the loudest one here, cracking jokes, making everything a competition, dragging all the attention toward himself like it was second nature. But tonight?

Tonight, he’d been different too.

Quieter. A little distant. He still teased, still complained, but there was something off about it. Like his heart wasn’t really in it.

You stole a glance back at him. He was trailing just a step behind, hands buried deep in his pockets, his usual long strides feeling slower, heavier. His shoulders were set, his jaw tight—like he was thinking too hard about something he didn’t want to say. It made something in your chest twist.

“Cold?”

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. Geto’s voice was low, even, pulling you back to the present.

“Huh?”

“It’s chilly,” he said, already shrugging off his jacket. “Here.”

“Oh, I’m fine—”

“Just take it.” His tone left little room for argument as he draped the jacket over your shoulders before you could protest, his fingers grazing lightly against your collarbone. Your breath hitched. Geto was always like this, thoughtful in a way that felt effortless, like he didn’t even have to think about it you try to rationalize to yourself.

“…Thanks,” you murmured, fingers instinctively curling around the fabric.

He smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he kept walking beside you. His pace was steady, close but not too close, just enough that your arms brushed every now and then—not quite accidental, but not completely intentional either.

It was the kind of thing you probably wouldn’t have thought twice about—if it weren’t for the way Gojo had gone completely silent behind you.

You glanced back again.

Gojo’s expression was unreadable, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was still fidgeting with the plush keychain you’d won for him earlier, rolling it between his fingers, his grip just a little too tight. Something about the sight made your stomach sink.

“Shortcut?”

Shoko’s voice broke the tension, casual and lazy as she stretched her arms over her head.

Gojo barely hesitated. “Yeah, same.” His voice was flat.

You blinked. “Shortcut?”

Shoko gestured to a narrow side path. “Cuts the walk down. Bit of an uphill climb, but faster.”

“But it sucks,” Geto pointed out, unimpressed. “Too steep.”

She shrugged. “Worth it.” Then she turned to you and Geto, smirking. “Guess you two are taking the scenic route, huh?”

Your face immediately went warm. “That’s not—”

“Later,” she cut you off with a lazy wave, already tugging Gojo along.

You barely caught a glimpse of his face before he turned away. But for a second. Just a second. his eyes flickered toward you, something unreadable behind them. Like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t.

Instead, he let himself be pulled along, following Shoko without another word. Just the Two of You. The silence left in their absence felt heavier than it should have.

“Guess it’s just us,” Geto said lightly, casting a glance at you.

You huffed, still flustered. “Shoko says stuff just to mess with people, you know.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah. But… she’s usually not wrong.”

Your stomach did a weird little flip.

“What?” you blurted out, a little too quick.

Geto didn’t answer right away. He just smiled to himself, looking ahead like he knew something you didn’t. Your thoughts tangled together, a mess of contradictions. Gojo had been off tonight. And Geto was acting just different enough that you couldn’t ignore it.

It made something in your chest tighten. They were your friends. You weren’t supposed to overthink things like this. But something was changing. And you didn’t know how to feel about it.

The rhythmic sound of your footsteps filled the silence between you. The campus was still a ways off, the path stretching ahead of you under the glow of streetlights. “…Did you have fun tonight?” Geto’s voice was softer now, lacking his usual teasing edge.

You hesitated. “…Yeah. Did you?”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you. “More than I expected to.”

There was something about the way he said it that made your pulse jump.

You looked away, focusing on the ground ahead of you. “…You want this back?” you asked, shifting under the weight of his jacket.

He shook his head easily. “Nah. Looks better on you.”

Your face felt warm despite the cool air.

“So,” Geto broke the quiet, hands still stuffed in his pockets. “You really gonna make me carry this whole conversation by myself?”

You shot him a look. “You’re the one who insists on talking all the time.”

He grinned. “Well, yeah. Someone’s gotta keep things interesting.”

You scoffed. “Oh, right. Because I’m just so boring.”

“Didn’t say that.” His tone was teasing, but his gaze flickered over to you with something unreadable. “Just quiet.”

You huffed. “I can be fun.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow, intrigued. “Prove it.”

You squinted at him. “What, you want me to juggle or something?”

“That’d be a start.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. Uh… okay, did I ever tell you about the time I completely humiliated myself in front of Mei Mei?”

His eyes lit up. “No, but I already know this is gonna be good.”

You groaned, shaking your head. “It was awful. I was helping her carry some stuff, right? Trying to be useful. But I tripped on absolutely nothing, flailed like a total idiot, and somehow managed to launch her entire stack of training manuals across the courtyard.”

Geto let out a loud laugh. “No way.”

“Oh, it gets worse. Instead of, I don’t know, getting up with some dignity, I just laid there for a second. Mei Mei didn’t even say anything, she just stared at me like she was trying to figure out if I was a lost cause.”

“That sounds like her.”

“I still don’t know if she was more disappointed or just impressed by how thoroughly I managed to embarrass myself.”

Geto was still grinning. “That’s beautiful. I wish I’d been there.”

“See? I am fun,” you said triumphantly.

He hummed, tilting his head in consideration. “I don’t know. That sounds less like ‘fun’ and more like ‘chronic bad luck.’”

You smacked his arm. “Oh, shut up.”

He just laughed, rubbing the spot like you’d actually hurt him. “Okay, okay. You win. You’re fun.”

“Damn right I am.”

You were both smiling now, the warmth of the moment making the chilly night air feel insignificant.

“…You should laugh more,” he said after a beat, his voice quieter.

You blinked at him. “Huh?”

He shrugged, looking ahead. “Just saying. It suits you.”

Your stomach flipped again, but this time, you didn’t push the feeling away.

Instead, you just shook your head with a soft chuckle. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

“Not a chance.” He flashed you a grin, his steps falling just a little closer to yours.

The rest of the walk was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Just charged in a way you weren’t used to.

By the time you reached the school gates, your thoughts were a mess.

The weight of Geto’s jacket still lingered on your shoulders.

somewhere in the back of your mind, Gojo’s silence stuck with you in a way you didn’t quite understand.Something was changing and you had no idea what to do about it.

The school grounds were quiet at this hour, the faint hum of the cicadas in the trees the only sound filling the night air. Most of the students had long since gone to sleep, the dorms dark and still, but you and Geto lingered by the entrance, neither of you quite ready to part ways just yet.

You shifted the jacket draped over your shoulders, acutely aware of its warmth, of the faint scent of Geto’s cologne still clinging to the fabric.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Geto’s voice broke the silence, amused.

You blinked, glancing at him. “Huh?”

He smirked. “You get this little crease in your brow when you’re overthinking something.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “I do not.”

“You do,” he insisted, tapping a finger to your forehead in demonstration. “Right here. Deep in thought. Probably overanalyzing everything that happened tonight.”

Your stomach flipped.

You were overthinking it. Overthinking him. Overthinking Gojo, and the weird tension that had lingered between the three of you all night. Geto must have noticed the way your expression shifted, because his smirk softened.

“…You good?” he asked, quieter now.

You hesitated.

You could play it off, pretend everything was fine. But part of you, maybe the part still rattled by the way tonight felt different, didn’t want to.

“…Do you think Gojo’s mad at me?” The words slipped out before you could second guess

them. Geto’s expression didn’t change, but you noticed the way his fingers twitched at his sides.

“No,” he said simply.

You frowned. “Then why was he acting so weird?”

Geto exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You’ll have to ask him that yourself.”

You huffed. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I can give you,” Geto said, looking at you now, gaze steady. “Whatever’s going on with Gojo, it’s not my place to say.”

That definitely meant something.

You stared at him, searching for some kind of hint, but Geto just smiled, unreadable as ever.

Before you could press further, a voice cut through the quiet.

“You guys are still out here?”

You turned, and there he was Gojo, standing a few feet away, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his uniform. He must have circled back at some point, because Shoko was nowhere to be seen.

For a split second, his gaze flickered to the jacket on your shoulders. His fingers tightened around the plush keychain in his hand.

“…You took a while ?” he asked, voice light, but there was something off about it.

You swallowed. “Uh. No. We just walked and talked.”

Gojo nodded, like that answer was expected, but the sharp edge in his expression didn’t ease.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” you said, attempting to ignore the strange tension between the three of you.

Gojo just shrugged, rocking back on his heels. “Yeah, well. I was gonna be real mad if you got kidnapped before I had the chance to make fun of you tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes. “Touching.”

But there was something about the way he said it that made your chest feel tight.

The three of you stood there for a moment, the silence thick between you and then Geto, ever the smooth one, clapped his hands together. “Well. It’s late,” he said easily. “We should probably get inside before Yaga yells at us.”

You nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted.

Gojo said nothing. Geto turned toward the dorms, his stride unhurried. But just before he walked past Gojo, he slowed just enough to murmur something under his breath.

You didn’t catch it. But whatever it was made Gojo’s jaw tighten. You hesitated, glancing between the two of them. You could feel whatever was happening here, unspoken and heavy, and it made something in you twist.

“…Night,” you said finally, the weight of the day settling over you.

Geto smiled, easy and warm. “Night.”

Gojo just nodded, but his usual smirk was nowhere to be found. You weren’t sure what to make of that. As you finally turned to head inside, the weight of Geto’s jacket still on your shoulders, you had the distinct feeling that tonight had changed something.

.

.

Geto: I like your laugh😽

You: Chat is this rizz !?!

Geto: you just ruined it

Geto: we were having a moment

You: Chat am I cooked?

Geto: WHO ARE YOU TALKING TOO RIGHT NOW

You: chat clip that

.

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

.

Gojo: can i try rizzing you up

You: sure

Gojo : PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

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