Gojo X You - Blog Posts

Enemies/ACADEMIC Rivals to Lovers (yes, that trope specifically) always ALWAYS makes me so happy AAAAAAA especially as a nerd haha

worth the wait a nerdjo fic

pairing ⸺ nerd/academic rival/rich boy!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you abhor your academic rival, satoru gojo. he's a cocky asshole that you fight with constantly for the spot at first place. but when you finally discover what's underneath all those lame sweaters of his with a once in a blue moon visit at the gym (spoiler alert: he's not a scrawny nerd), you'll be fighting your severe attraction to the man who makes your life a bit harder. and maybe fall in love with him, too, in the process.

warnings ⸺ smut, f recieving oral, praise, he makes you beg for it lol, p i v sex, making out, angst if you squint, a lot of fluff, college AU, nerd!gojo, reader gets insecure sometimes and is treated horribly by her discord mod TA/research advisor, typical misogyny/sexism in STEM fields, but gojo defends her!!!, sleeper build gojo with a happy trail because im a slut, the good old pining and yearning i like. art by @/deltapork

a/n thank u to all my beta readers for editing part of this for me :3 happy valentines day!!!

general masterlist

You blink at your paper.

98.

You suppose you should be happy—it’s a graduate level physics class, anyways. For a moment, you stare at the red markings of the TA that graded it, as if willing an error in the one problem you made a mistake on could make it go away. 

2+2=5.

You exhaled sharply, almost fighting back tears. You’d think you could avoid simple arithmetic mistakes, but apparently doing tensor products comes easier than simple addition to you. Shoving your backpack on your chair, you stuff in your laptop and the test haphazardly, not caring that it’s going to get messed and crumpled up in your backpack after your folders and binders jostle around. Fuck that test.

You wouldn’t normally act as if the test had personally wronged you—trust, you were not going to get that heated were it any class. But because of this one class, one person, you knew it was coming. The inevitable.

"Better luck next time." The voice, drenched in smug satisfaction, slithered through the air behind you, his voice and demeanor like a slimy, slimy snake. 

Your jaw tightened, but you forced yourself to remain calm as you turned around. And there he was—Gojo Satoru, the bane of your existence, a plague upon your academic record, a walking, talking statistical anomaly who somehow managed to be both infuriatingly brilliant and aggressively insufferable.

He leaned against the desk beside yours, glasses sliding down just enough to reveal the glint of those ridiculously blue eyes. He crosses his arms while they’re covered in that ridiculous, ugly sweater he’s wearing—he’s probably going for the old money aesthetic, but he doesn’t need to know he gives off more “finance bro that helps billionaires evade taxes,” or whatever finance bros do.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” you sniff, pretending to act nonchalant while you grab your backpack, swinging it roughly on your shoulder like it was the weight of your grievances against him.

"The test." Gojo unfolded a crisp sheet of paper with the kind of theatrical flourish reserved for revealing royal decrees. A perfect 100, circled in bold red ink.

Your stomach twisted. This is what those two points meant. Two stupid, meaningless, soul-crushing, rage-inducing points.

"Guess that makes it… what, five to three this semester?" He tapped his chin, pretending to count, as if the score wasn’t already seared into your brain like an irreversible branding. "My lead, obviously. But hey, if you ever need tutoring, I could always squeeze you in."

You bite the inside of your cheek in frustration. “I wouldn’t want to impose on the time for any of your hobbies. After all, when will you get the time to watch anime? My 5000 Year Old Girlfriend is Stuck in a Twelve Year Old’s Body, was it?”

He presses a hand to his chest in mock hurt, as if your words had truly pierced him through his chest. “Tut, tut. After all this time, I’d think you’d have my anime preferences memorized since you’re so obsessed with me. It’s Digimon, not whatever pedophilic shit you think I jerk off too.” He pauses, and then his voice drops into a conspiratorial whisper. “But you know Fred, the grad student TA that holds recitation every Wednesday? I just know he’s probably a Discord mod of a server that sends, like, daily tentacle porn. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s on the Megan's law registry either.”

Now, you have to hold back your smile because Gojo has a point. Fred is not just any TA. Fred is the grad student that mentors you on a research project; the program’s super selective, so when you realized you got him, you couldn’t just back out and give up the opportunity. However, Fred isn’t just a weird–-he’s sooo handsy with his greasy ass hands, so you accept any and all Fred slander. Because he’s your research advisor, you can’t wait to finish the project any faster. He probably would be into underage girls, but you don’t need to express your approval to Gojo, or worst of all, let him think he’s funny. God knows that would get into his head. “Yea, yea. Whatever. Anyways, I hope you have fun with your Pokemon—”

“Digimon.”

“—or whatever. I’m leaving. Some of us have things to do. Later, Gojo.”

You turned on your heel, lest Gojo hook you in with another taunt. 

Maybe you needed to blow off some steam, if you’re allowing yourself to lose to Gojo. 

Worst of all, it’s become a streak, like two times in a row—one on this quiz, and the other on the midterm a few weeks back. Your mind goes back to the last women in STEM recruiting event you had went to, and, how, in the middle of taking a bite of the delicious margherita pizza they offered, you registered that the woman in the panel had insisted that what helped her power through her PhD and dickwad supervisors was by exercising. Her fervor over pilates could almost qualify as a cult pitch, but it made you pause at the moment. Before you continued to further engorge yourself on the food offered on the charcuterie board. 

But maybe it was time to hone your focus in, and some sweaty endorphins might help you get just that. 

You’re not really surprised the demographic at your university’s gym looks like the way it does. After all, not only was it renowned for its academics (from all the nepo babies like Gojo whose families donated buildings and had like four generations of alumnus), but it was also a Division I school. So not only was the gym packed but it was packed with men.

As you walked in the hallway towards the room that contained weight machines, gym bag slung over your shoulder, you eyed the glistening backs of the (D1, mind you) men’s swim team through the glass that separated your path and the swimming pool. 

Wow, those Speedos really hugged their asses. You imagined Gojo in one, and almost snorted. Rich boy nerd Satoru definitely didn’t  learn how to swim; his family’s mansion probably had a twenty year old personal lifeguard that Gojo lost his virginity to, or something. Regardless, he would squint in his silly swim goggles, the exact antithesis of sex appeal while his glow-in-the-dark eyes lit up the pool while he stroked, cheeks puffed like a pufferfish.

Regardless, the smell of testosterone that hits you when you enter the weight area is almost nauseating, and, if you’re honest, a little intimidating. You’re not exactly the fittest of people, so you quickly speed walk past the grunting and sweaty men at the squat machines and barbells, avoiding eye contact and praying furiously that none of them perceive you.

 When you reach the dumbbell stands, you hunch over, taking random light weights. Then, you pretend you know what you’re doing while jumping every so slightly whenever anyone comes in six foot distance of you. It’s only when another girl comes in to grab a weight (and when she bends over, you definitely ogle her ass in a way that would get you slapped if you were a man) that your gaze removes itself from where it was focused on the 2.5 lb dumbbell you were previously bicep curling with. To see him.

The glint of ivory hair is unmistakable—you’ve basically gotten off to the fantasy of razoring it off in his sleep. His blue eyes are bored, pretty boy face framed in glasses. Now, he’s giving teenage boy turned to Andrew Tate after a breakup. Black sweatshirt and sweatpants that are too small, because they cling to his legs in a form-defining way. He’s walking over, hands in his pockets, to a barbell station. Slaps some guys on the shoulder as he goes through, gets a lot of daps. 

Which is weird to you, because you only the Gojo inside your physics class, not outside. He’s a fucking nerd—a loser that spends his time beefing with you, so why is he so popular when he gives you the time of day?

There are three dimensions to gaining alpha status, or whatever they call male popularity. You have to be 1) rich, 2) really physically fit, or 3) just really charismatic. Considering that Gojo—in all his clothing—-looks like a twink moreso than ripped gym bro, it’s definitely not dimension two. So you conclude that it’s because he’s rich and probably throws yacht parties so these ripped guys don’t push him into a locker, or something.

When he finally reaches his destination, you smirk to yourself. With that scrawny build underneath all those loose sweaters, you know he’s only going to be able to lift the bar, no plates. After all, he was warming up. insulting Gojo in countless of ways by taking jabs at his physique mentally, so you barely register that he’s grabbing for the hem of his sweatshirt, peeling it up—

To reveal his bare torso.

Your first thought: Wow, he has huge bazonkas.

That has easily got to be one of the most built physiques you’ve seen at your college so far. His pectorals basically pop out out of his torso as he moves to grab plates. First, he grabs a really big plate—you’re not a gym expert, so you wouldn’t know the weight—and stacks it. And stacks another. And another. And another, until you’re sure it’s definitely more than your bodyweight.

As you’re staring at him in awe, your 2.5 lb dumbbells hang limply by your sides, abandoning all pretense of training to openly gawk at the clench of his biceps, the sweat rolling down his temple, and the set of his jaw as he stares holes into the bar. And by the way there’s heat creeping up your cheeks you realize one thing:

You’re screwed.

“You know what?”

You keep your eyes on your notes firmly, refusing to look at Gojo sitting right next to you. You don’t know why he always chooses to sit next to you on recitation, really—it’s not like you’re receptive to his company. After all, he could be doing other things—like metaphorically sucking a TA’s dick by talking about their research, where Gojo probably knows more about the TA’s research than they do themselves. 

From your periphery, you notice Gojo pouting, then scooting his chair (dragging it, so it makes a god awful screeching noise against the floor tiles that has you cringing) until he’s so close that he slings an arm on the back of your chair and leans in closer and closer. You’re fighting to keep your eyes on your notes, face heating up traitorously until you feel his breath fan across your neck because he’s just so close.

“Rude, ignoring me. Look where that got you.” He then points to a problem on your paper, one you were currently working on. “You’re doing that wrong.”

You finally turn to glare at him, but he’s closer than you anticipated, his face just inches from yours. His grin is all sharp edges and knowing amusement, and it makes your stomach flip in a way you refuse to acknowledge.

“I’m not doing it wrong,” you argue, despite the creeping suspicion that, okay, maybe you did mess up somewhere.

“Oh, really?” Gojo drawls, tilting his head slightly. “Then why is your integral off by a factor of two?”

Your eyes snap back to your notes, scanning through the equations—and, dammit, he’s right.

You huff, begrudgingly erasing the mistake. “Whatever.”

“You know, you should really be thanking me,” Gojo muses, still leaning way too close for comfort. “If I weren’t here, who knows how many mistakes you’d make?”

“She’d have me,” comes a greasy voice, and you have to fight the tears in your eyes that arise when Fred (the aforementioned pedophilic TA and your research advisor) comes, his moldy cheese stench following him as he takes a seat from across you and Gojo. You grudgingly turn your face away from where it was so close to Gojo’s to look at him and sigh inwardly. At least Gojo’s face was prettier to look at.

“Hi, Fred,” you smile tightly, willing him to go away. “We’re good here, so you can help out other students—”

“How was your weekend?” He instead replies, and you wince. Stealing a quick glance at Gojo, it seems that his jaw and posture are uncharacteristically tense. 

“Lot of work for the class and for, uh, our research,” you respond, nodding and averting your gaze to your paper and feigning working on a problem so that he would get the hint.

Fred, unfortunately, does not get the hint. Instead, he leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes too focused on you. “You really ought to take breaks, you know. You can give me the code late. Someone as cute as you shouldn’t stress so much. You’ll get wrinkles.”

Your fingers tighten around your pencil, your skin crawling at the way his tone veers into something too familiar, too patronizing. You open your mouth to give a clipped response, but Gojo beats you to it.

“Oh? Didn’t know you were an expert on skincare, Fred,” Gojo drawls, his voice deceptively light. His arm, which was still resting on the back of your chair, shifts just slightly—not quite pulling you in, but making his presence more noticeable. “Though, if we’re giving out advice, maybe you should take your own. I mean, stress must be rough on you too, right? All those late nights grading papers, staring at screens. Takes a toll.”

Fred bristles, but Gojo just smiles lazily, pushing up his glasses as he tilts his head. “Actually, you know what? Maybe we should all focus on our own business. Like, say, teaching, instead of weirdly hovering over students. Crazy thought, huh?”

You swear you see the muscle in Fred’s jaw twitch, but he forces out an awkward chuckle, shifting uncomfortably. “Right, right. Just looking out for her.”

“Don’t worry,” Gojo interrupts smoothly, now fully leaning into your space, his arm draping a little lower behind your chair, “I think she’s got plenty of people looking out for her already.” His voice is soft, but there’s an undeniable edge beneath the words.

Fred lingers for a second too long, but finally, he mutters something about helping another student and stands, walking off with an air of forced nonchalance.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, slumping slightly in your seat. Gojo hums beside you, his fingers tapping idly against the back of your chair.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he teases, but there’s something in his tone that’s softer than usual. He then makes a show of stretching, raising his arms. His sweater rides up a bit, exposing his lower abs and peeks of white that has you averting your gaze, the heat creeping up at his proximity once again. Then, his arm back on your chair. Weirdly, you find that you don’t mind it.

You sigh, resigned. You’ll figure out these feelings later. “Yeah. Thanks, Gojo.”

But you don’t immediately go back to your work, because Gojo suddenly hunches down and whispers in your ear. “Yea, I definitely saw an underage anime girl sticker on his laptop.”

Your responding snort is so loud everyone turns to look at you and Gojo, who is now sporting a mischievous and satisfied smile.

It starts with a single drop, fat and cold where it splats against your wrist. You glance up from your phone just in time to see the sky split open.

“Shit,” you mutter, stuffing your phone into your bag. The library doors shut behind you with a heavy clang, sealing away the scent of old books and the quiet hum of studying students. Outside, the air is thick with the petrichor of freshly fallen rain, and within seconds, the pavement is slick, puddles forming in the uneven cracks of the sidewalk. The streetlights reflect off the wet ground, casting fragmented golden glows against the darkening sky. You’d been studying to grind for the upcoming assignments; after all, to rival Gojo is a no small feat. It’s just unfortunate it seems to take you thousand times more effort than it does for Gojo.

“Guess we’re stuck together, huh?”

You don’t have to turn to know who it is.

Satoru Gojo, standing beside you under the library’s narrow overhang, wearing that insufferable grin like he’s amused by the entire situation. Like the rain personally fell from the sky just to give him an opportunity to bother you.

“I’ll take my chances,” you say flatly, shifting your bag on your shoulder. But as you peer past the downpour, your stomach sinks. The rain is merciless, an unrelenting sheet of water stretching as far as you can see. There’s no way you’re making it back to your dorm without looking like you took a fully clothed shower.

Gojo hums, pulling something out of his bag. You blink when he flicks open a half-broken umbrella, the metal ribs slightly bent like it’s barely holding itself together. He gives it a little shake, sending droplets flying, before glancing at you with a smirk.

“Well?” He lifts a brow. “Wanna be smart about this?”

You do not want to be smart about this. You want to wait out the rain or make a break for it. But the storm shows no signs of letting up, and the thought of walking through it alone makes you hesitate.

Reluctantly, you sigh. “Fine. But I get most of the cover.”

“Hey, sharing is caring.” He tilts the umbrella slightly, just enough to make a point.

With great reluctance, you step closer. The moment you do, you regret it.

Gojo is warm. Even in the damp, chilled air, he radiates heat, standing so close that his sleeve brushes against yours. He smells good, too—like expensive laundry detergent with a faint undercurrent of something sweet, something distinctly him.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stare straight ahead as the two of you start walking. The rain pounds against the umbrella, droplets cascading off the edges, and with every step, you’re hyper-aware of the way Gojo moves beside you—loose-limbed, annoyingly graceful, a stark contrast to the crooked metal above your heads.

“Man, this thing’s on its last leg,” he muses, tilting the umbrella just slightly. Water dribbles off the side, landing directly onto your shoulder.

“Gojo!” you yelp, recoiling as the cold soaks through your shirt.

“Oops.” He does not sound remotely sorry.

You glare at him, but before you can snap back, he shrugs off his jacket and—without preamble—drapes it over you.

You freeze.

It’s warm, still carrying the heat of his body, and it smells so much like him—clean, sweet, dizzyingly familiar. Your brain short-circuits.

You force yourself to breathe, keeping your gaze firmly ahead. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say, voice tight.

“I wanted to.”

Something in his tone makes your stomach flip. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, and—

Damn him. Damn him.

Water drips from his bangs, clinging to the sharp edges of his jawline, sliding down the curve of his throat. His shirt sticks to his skin, fabric clinging in a way that reveals the toned lines of his arms, the broad plane of his chest. He’s watching the rain, the usual teasing glint in his eyes softened into something contemplative.

You swear your eggs just recently got released, for you cannot help but avoid your ever going attraction to Satoru Gojo except the age-old excuse: ovulation. Your mind wanders to how his arms would feel around your head, to lay on his chest, how he’d be able to manhandle you, force you to take it—

But you’re snapped out of your inappropriate thoughts by what he says next.

“You know,” he says, voice quieter now, “I like this. Just us, no grades, no competing.”

You pause.

He says it so simply, so easily, like it’s nothing at all. But the words settle deep, curling somewhere warm inside you, and you don’t know what to do with them.

So you do what you do best: you shove them away, bury them beneath years of rivalry, of late-night study sessions fueled by caffeine and stubbornness, of sharp words and sharper glances.

You roll your eyes, forcing a scoff. “Don’t get used to it.”

But even as you say it, your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket, holding it a little tighter.

It’s been a week since you saw Gojo. He had dropped you at your dorm in a surprisingly gentlemanly way, and you had insisted on returning the jacket only after washing it, to be courteous. What you didn’t mention was how you kept repeatedly smelling it in your dorm whenever you got a reprieve from your roommate’s eyes because Gojo smelled like expensive cologne and he did one thing most nerds / physics majors don’t do: shower. This fact, unfortunately, made you more attracted to him because the bar is truly in hell.

You’ve concluded that these…feelings can’t hurt you and that it isn’t real, like a beefy and shirtless Gojo-looking demon that’ll jump and surprise you from under your bed. So you move on your life, caught in the ever perpetual slog of studying and researching. 

Thus, you find yourself at the library once more.

The night hums low around you, quiet except for the occasional shuffle of paper and the distant hum of the library’s espresso machine (only librarians could use it, however. you fervently thought that was a form of elitism, but you digress). You’re at the corner table, the one by the window, where the dim light pools just enough to illuminate your notes but not enough to make you feel like you’re being studied under a microscope. You think you’re alone—until you aren’t.

You don’t have to look up to know it’s him.

Satoru Gojo is hard to miss, even when he’s not trying. He slides into the chair across from you with the kind of ease that makes it seem like he belongs there, like he was always going to end up sitting across from you tonight. His hair is tousled, white strands falling forward in a way that makes him look softer under the warm light. His glasses are perched low on his nose, a rare sight given that he usually has them pushed up like some kind of pretentious scholar.

The two of you don’t speak.

It’s surprising, really. Gojo never runs out of things to say, whether it’s an obnoxious quip or some unnecessarily insightful observation that makes you want to throw your textbook at his face. But tonight, he just pulls out his own notes, taps his pen against the edge of his lips, and starts reading.

You should focus on your own studying, but something about this—this silence, this late-night haze, this tiny moment carved out of time—makes your mind wander. You steal glances when you think he won’t notice. His brows furrow when he’s concentrating, his jaw tightens when he’s stuck on something, and when he exhales, it’s this slow, measured thing, like he’s trying not to get frustrated. He’s just—

He’s just really there.

You’ve spent years defining Gojo as your rival. Your competition. The person standing in your way at every academic milestone. And yet, somehow, somewhere, he’s slipped into something else, something harder to define. Because you’ve seen him like this before—when he’s so focused that he forgets the world around him, when he bites his lip in thought, when he gets so caught up in something that he mutters under his breath without realizing it. And for the first time, it dawns on you: you don’t actually hate it.

You don’t hate this comfortable silence. This moment of peace, a white flag waving lazily between you both.

The hours blur. The café starts to empty. Your notes turn into background noise. It’s late, and the warmth from inside lulls you into something dangerously close to comfort.

A soft sound breaks through the quiet.

You glance up and freeze.

Gojo’s head has tilted to the side, his glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose. His hand is curled loosely around his pen, and his breathing has evened out. He’s asleep.

For a moment, you don’t move. You barely breathe.

Gojo, asleep, is not something you’ve seen before. He’s always in motion, always buzzing with energy, always running his mouth about something. But right now, he’s still. His long lashes cast faint shadows over his cheekbones, and the tension he always carries—the cocky bravado, the smirking sharpness—is nowhere to be found. He just looks… peaceful.

Cutie.

What?

The thought slips in so quickly, so effortlessly, that it nearly makes you jolt. But when you look at him again—head tilted just slightly, glasses slipping down his nose, breathing slow and even—you can’t deny that the word fits. He looks like a lazy cat napping in a sunbeam, limbs loose, utterly unguarded. It’s so unlike him that you find yourself staring, caught in the contrast.

Your fingers twitch. Before you can stop yourself, you reach forward, slow and hesitant, to push his glasses back up his nose. But you catch yourself just before you touch him, as if the warmth of his skin might burn. Your hand hovers in the air for a fraction of a second too long, and then—

You pull away.

Your heart is pounding. It’s fine. It’s nothing. You just need to get out of here.

You gather your things quietly, glancing back at him one last time before slipping out the door into the cool night air. The moment you step outside, you take a breath, deep and shaking. The world feels different now. You feel different now.

Because for the first time, it isn’t just that you find Gojo attractive.

It’s that you care.

And you don’t know what the hell to do about it.

The gym, once again, smells like sweat and overpriced protein powder.

You don’t know what’s possessed you to come here today. Maybe it’s because you keep telling yourself that you need to exercise more, or maybe it’s because you need to take a break from studying before your brain melts. But deep down, if you’re really being honest with yourself, you know the real reason.

Gojo is here.

You spotted him the first time by accident. You were on the treadmill, barely jogging at a pace that wouldn’t embarrass you, when you caught a flash of white hair across the gym floor. And there he was—dressed in a fitted black sleeveless top and joggers, casually loading plates onto a barbell.

And he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

It was a stupid, inconsequential detail, but it made all the difference. Without them, he didn’t look like the annoying academic rival who constantly got under your skin, flashing his smug grin as he beat you in exams by the smallest possible margins. He looked… sharp. Unfiltered. Effortlessly attractive in a way that made your stomach tighten in ways you didn’t like.

You’d seen him in his regular clothes before, of course. You knew he had broad shoulders and long legs, that his body wasn’t just a lanky frame hidden behind layers of sweaters. But here, in the gym, watching him roll his shoulders as he prepped for another set—it hit differently. He was lean but muscular, his arms flexing as he adjusted his grip on the bar, and for some godforsaken reason, you couldn’t look away.

You shouldn’t be watching him. You should be focusing on your own workout, pretending you don’t care. But the way his shirt clung to his back, the way his forearms tensed, the way he exhaled sharply as he lifted—

You’re so screwed.

You force yourself to look away, grabbing the smallest dumbbells available and curling them in what has to be the weakest excuse for a workout imaginable. You’re barely paying attention to what you’re doing, too busy sneaking glances at Gojo between sets. It’s pathetic, but at least no one else is watching you.

Or so you think.

Because then she appears.

A girl.

Tall, toned, and effortlessly gorgeous, with sleek hair pulled into a high ponytail. She strides over to Gojo with a confidence you could never dream of and smiles at him, saying something that makes him laugh. Her ass is definitely bigger than yours, and she’s in this coordinated, cute, pink set, looking like she walked straight out of a fitness TikTok. You can’t hear what they’re talking about over the sound of weights clanking and some obnoxious EDM song blasting through the speakers, but you can see it. The way she leans in, the way she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the way Gojo—

—smiles at her. That easy, lazy grin he always wears when he’s teasing you, except this time, it isn’t for you.

Your grip tightens around the dumbbells, something ugly curling in your chest. It gets worse when she gestures toward the squat rack, and Gojo nods before moving behind her, hands hovering just slightly as she sets up for a squat. You watch as he spots her, one hand resting lightly on her lower back, close enough to correct her form but far enough to be polite. He’s focused, watching her movements carefully, murmuring something that makes her laugh before she drops into another rep.

Your stomach twists.

This is stupid. You have no reason to be feeling this way.

It’s then that it hits you—you can have your silly little academic rival moments with Gojo, but, in the end, you’re just a footnote in his story, a fleeting challenge in a life where everything already belongs to him. He quite literally has generational wealth; he’s not going to spend his life buried in grant applications or clawing for recognition in a field that demands twice the effort for half the reward. He’ll be the one funding the research, sitting at the head of the table, making decisions that shape the future. And you? You’ll be one of the many who struggle just to be in the same room.

He’s the guy who spends his vacations on yachts or private islands—not just surrounded by wealth, but by people who belong there. Girls who glide through life with the same effortless ease as him, girls who don’t second-guess if they deserve to be in the spaces they occupy. Girls who don’t have to fight for their place at the table because it was always set for them.

Girls that are his equal—equally attractive, equally smart, equally rich.

Not you.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to look away, but the image is burned into your mind. The easy way he talks to her. The way she tilts her head when she listens. The way he doesn’t even know you’re here.

You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care.

But you do.

You grip the dumbbells tighter, exhaling sharply. Then you put them back, pick up your water bottle, and walk out of the gym before you do something stupid.

The office is too small. Too suffocating. Too filled with the weight of unspoken words and the sharp-edged smile of Fred, the TA, as he leans back in his chair and laces his fingers together.

"You know," he begins, voice sickly sweet, "I really expected more from you."

You sit stiffly in the chair across from him, your hands curled into fists in your lap, nails digging crescents into your skin. Your heart pounds, but your face remains carefully neutral. You've been called into his office under the guise of "academic guidance," but you know better. You always know better.

"I don't know what you mean," you say, keeping your voice even.

Fred exhales dramatically, shaking his head. "Come on. You and I both know you're barely keeping up in this project of ours."

You grit your teeth. You're not barely keeping up. You're giving him your work at the highest level, at its best. But Fred—Fred has always had a way of twisting things, making you feel small, insignificant, like your achievements are nothing more than accidents.

“I think my progress speaks for itself,” you respond tightly. Mind you, while he was supposed to be your mentor, you’ve done 80% of the work.

But you think Gojo’s defense of you ran deep into Fred’s heart because by the way he’s sleazily smirking at you, you know he’s trying to get back at you.

He smirks. "Your progress? Sure, you’re smart. But you think that’s enough? You think anyone’s going to care about a girl like you when there are people out there who don’t have to struggle to be exceptional?" He leans forward, voice dropping into something conspiratorial. "You’re wasting your time. The best you can hope for is being someone’s assistant. Maybe a glorified research grunt if you’re lucky. Just like for me."

Your stomach twists. You shouldn’t care. You know you shouldn’t care. But the words burrow deep, hitting a place inside you that already doubts, that already wonders if you’re nothing more than a temporary obstacle in a world built for people like Gojo Satoru—people born brilliant, born wealthy, born effortless.

Fred’s eyes flick over you, assessing, smug. "You’re working yourself to the bone for what? You’ll never be at the top. Not really."

The bitterness of the situation really dawns on you—Gojo’s the one who took a jab at Fred last week, not you. But you’re the one who’s left to deal with its consequences. You’re not going to assign blame and lament that it’s not Gojo in this office dealing with him. It was in your defense, after all. 

But Fred’s words remind you. You’ll never be at the top. At Gojo’s level, who’s at the top without even seeming to put in effort.

You’ll never be his equal.

You stand abruptly, shoving your chair back so hard it scrapes against the floor. "If that’s all, I have work to do."

Fred chuckles, leaning back, clearly pleased with himself. "Sure, sure. Don’t say I never tried to give you advice."

You don’t respond. You just walk out, gripping your bag so tightly your knuckles turn white, the echo of his words following you down the hall, settling in your bones like lead.

The hallway is too bright. Too loud. Too full of people who don’t know that you’re on the verge of crumpling in on yourself like a dying star.

Your breath feels too shallow, too quick, and there’s a weight pressing down on your chest that no amount of rationalizing can shake off. It’s not even your meeting with Fred—just a slow accumulation of stress and exhaustion and frustration that’s settled deep in your bones. A grade lower than expected, an upcoming deadline you’re nowhere near prepared for, a general sense of drowning no matter how hard you try to keep up. It’s all too much, and your hands are starting to shake from how tightly you’re gripping the strap of your bag.

You just need to get out of here. You need air, space, something.

But, of course, the universe has a cruel sense of humor, because when you round the corner, you slam straight into Satoru Gojo.

“Whoa—”

Your balance is already precarious from the way you were rushing, and the impact sends you stumbling. For a split second, you think you might actually fall—your ankle twists awkwardly, the world tilts—and then there’s a strong hand gripping your wrist, another bracing against your back, steadying you before you can hit the ground.

You don’t process what happens immediately. Your mind is still stuck on too much, too fast, can’t breathe, and it takes you a second to realize that Gojo is holding you upright, his hands firm but careful, his expression hovering somewhere between amusement and concern.

“Jeez, what’s the rush?” he teases, but his voice lacks its usual careless lilt. He’s searching your face now, eyes narrowing behind his glasses, and that’s when you realize: you must look as bad as you feel.

Shit.

You jerk away from him, a little too fast, a little too sharp. “I’m fine.”

Gojo doesn’t look convinced. “You sure? Because it kinda seemed like you were about to pass out on the spot.”

“I said I’m fine.” You adjust your bag over your shoulder, shifting your weight onto your other foot, ignoring the faint throb in your ankle. “Go bother someone else.”

Most of the time, that’s enough to send him off with an exaggerated sigh and a smirk. But not today.

Today, Gojo just stands there, watching you like he’s trying to piece something together—like you’re a problem he wants to solve. He doesn’t press, not yet, but the silence stretches, and it’s unbearable, because you can feel the weight of his gaze, and you don’t want to be seen like this. Not by him.

So you give him a tight nod in dismissal, and walk away.

There’s a knock at your door. You frown because you didn’t expect any visitors, and you’re in your sleepwear. Regardless, you pad your way lazily and open the door.

To see Gojo.

What the fuck.

He’s drenched in the glow of the hallway light, looking entirely too at home despite standing on your threshold. His hair is still slightly damp from the rain, white strands falling over his forehead in careless disarray. He’s not wearing his glasses.

"Why are you here?" you demand, gripping the doorframe, willing your voice to stay steady.

He quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head just slightly. “You’re holding my jacket hostage.”

Oh. Right.

You make your way to your wardrobe, where the now-cleaned jacket hangs neatly on a hanger. Grabbing it, you hand it over to Gojo, who’s standing at your threshold while eyeing the insides of your dorm, as if trying to take in what your living space looks like. You shove it into his chest, stepping back like the heat of it burns. "Here."

Gojo takes it, but instead of leaving like a normal person, he lingers, running his fingers over the material like he’s checking for something. Then,, he lifts a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it in that way that only makes his biceps flex, his lean muscles shifting beneath his shirt. You hate that you notice.

A beat passes.

"You know," he muses, far too casually, "you seemed a little disheveled back there."

Your stomach twists. "It's not a big deal—"

"—Bullshit." His voice cuts through yours, sharp and immediate. He shifts, stepping just the tiniest bit closer, his tone losing its usual teasing lilt. “You’re lying. I saw what you looked like. What happened?”

“It's none of your business,” you say, stiffening. “Nor is it a big deal, really.”

Gojo exhales, something heavy in the sound. His eyes don’t leave yours, and for once, they aren’t filled with their usual mirth or mischief. Just something searching, something that makes your chest ache in a way you don’t have the strength to deal with right now.

"You always do that," he says, softer now, but no less intense. “Act like no one’s supposed to care. Like you’re carrying the world alone.”

Your fingers curl into your palms. Your lips press together. You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to acknowledge the way his words settle too close to the truth.

And then, quietly, Gojo asks, “Do you not consider me your equal?”

You swallow.

Your silence must be enough of an answer because something shifts in his expression. It isn’t anger exactly, but it’s something close—something bitter and disappointed and aching all at once.

"You’re the one who shuts me out, you know." His voice is sharp now, edged with frustration. "You act like I'm the one keeping you at a distance, but every time I try to get close, you push me away."

Your throat tightens. “Why do you even care?”

Gojo lets out a breath, his head tilting just slightly, eyes scanning your face like you’re something he’s trying to figure out. Then he laughs, quiet and humorless.

“You really don’t know?”

“I—” Your voice wavers. “What do you mean—”

“For a girl so smart, you sure do act stupid.” He steps forward then, closing the space between you just enough to make you want to back away, but your feet don’t move. His voice drops lower. "Do you think I talk to you because I give a fuck about physics?"

Your brain short-circuits. “What—”

He groans, dragging a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I give zero fucks about the class or any class, trust me. I have better things to do than to try to aim for 100s on every test."

Your heart is pounding now, too loud, too fast. “Then why—”

"God," he exhales, tipping his head back, like he's debating whether or not he should even say it. Then, after a beat, he looks at you again, and whatever is in his eyes makes your stomach flip, makes your breath hitch.

Something in your chest lurches, but before you can even process it, he huffs a laugh—like he’s just remembered something ridiculous.

"You didn’t even look my way the first week," he says, eyes flicking over your face, searching. "I could tell you only cared about anyone that could challenge you. Like, it wasn’t even until I did better than you on the second midterm that you even talked to me."

You open your mouth, then close it, heat prickling at the back of your neck. Because—yeah. He’s not wrong. You had ignored him, dismissed him as just another overconfident rich kid who thought he was smarter than he was. It wasn’t until he proved himself, until he became a real obstacle in your path, that you bothered to acknowledge him.

Gojo smiles, but it’s not cocky this time—it’s small, almost rueful. "And then you looked at me like I was finally real. Like I existed."

Your breath hitches.

He shrugs, eyes dropping for a brief second before snapping back up to yours. "So, yeah. Maybe I started trying harder. Maybe I cared about all those stupid tests because it meant I got to see that fire in your eyes, that I got to be the one you were pushing against." He rubs the back of his neck, his biceps flexing in a way that would usually annoy you, but right now, you’re too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

Gojo stares at you for a long moment, gaze unwavering, like he’s daring you to say something—anything.

Your chest feels too tight, your pulse erratic, and you don’t know what to do with the way Gojo is looking at you—like you’re something precious, something worth holding onto.

But he’s wrong. He has to be wrong.

“You can’t like me,” you whisper.

Gojo frowns, expression shifting. “What?”

Your throat clenches, and before you can stop it, heat pricks at your eyes, blurring your vision. “You can’t like me,” you say again, voice cracking. “I can’t even match you.”

Gojo's face slackens, his teasing demeanor completely gone.

"You do everything so effortlessly," you force out, your fists clenching at your sides. "It’s so infuriating." A shaky breath escapes you, and you shake your head, looking down. “So why would you even want this? You make me feel this way, and I—I hate you for it.”

For a second, there’s only silence.

Then, Gojo exhales softly.

“Is that what you think?” His voice is so gentle it makes something inside you ache.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Gojo shifts, stepping forward slowly, carefully, like you’re something fragile. And then—then he reaches out, his fingers ghosting along your wrist before curling around it, grounding you. “It’s not effortless,” he murmurs. “I try so hard. You just don’t see it because I don’t want you to.”

"You really don’t get it, do you?" His voice is quieter now, something dangerously close to vulnerable. His fingers twitch at his sides. "I care because it’s you."

You shake your head, still not understanding, still unable to believe it.

Gojo watches you for a moment, then exhales, running a hand through his hair. “You act like I just woke up one day and decided to like you.” He huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no real amusement in it. “Do you know how long I’ve been stuck on you? How infuriating it was, realizing that no matter how much attention I got, the only person I wanted it from was too busy treating me like an obstacle?”

Your breath catches.

“I tried everything,” he continues, voice rougher now. “Teasing you, annoying you, beating you in tests, losing to you in tests. It didn’t matter what I did, because you—” He breaks off, shaking his head. “You only saw me when I gave you a reason to compete.”

Your fingers tremble slightly at your sides. You don’t know what to say, don’t even know what you can say.

And suddenly, everything—the teasing, the constant pestering, the way he always had to be around you—it all clicks into place.

Your heart hammers in your chest, and before you can second-guess it, before you can even think, you surge forward and kiss him.

It’s a mess of a kiss—too rushed, too desperate, all clashing teeth and uneven breaths—but Gojo groans softly against your lips, like he’s been waiting for this. His hands are on you immediately, one slipping around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head as he presses you flush against him.

You’re dizzy. Overwhelmed. But it’s good. It’s him, and you don’t want to stop.

When you finally pull away, breathless and unsteady, Gojo is grinning, his lips slightly swollen.

“Worth the wait,” he murmurs, eyes shining.

You avert your gaze, fully blushing now. “But I—” You take a look at him, then hide your face in your hands. “I’m a stalker.”

“Maybe I’m into that.”

“No,” you bemoan. “I’ve stalked you at the gym, and I—” Your voice drops into a shameful whisper. “You were good. Like, stupidly good. Like, making everyone stare at you good.”

His lips twitch. “You were staring too, huh?”

You glare at him, but he just grins, all teeth, clearly eating this up.

“I hated it,” you insist, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “I hated that you’re already smarter than me, that you already have all these advantages, and then—and then you also have that? Like, it’s just unfair. You’re unfair.”

Gojo is silent for a second, and you think you’ve screwed up, but then exhales a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “You are so cute.”

“Stop it!” you whine, but you don’t protest when he pulls you closer and locks your lips with his another time. You clutch the front of his shirt, drag your hands on his chest, his arms, everywhere. Then, you guide his to firmly clutch your ass, to which he freezes.

“We can stop here. We don’t have to do anymore than this, and—”

But you interrupt him, slamming your lips against his once more. Grabbing him by the shoulder you pull him into your room and slam the door behind you, pushing him against the door. “Fuck no.”

He laughs breathlessly, then continues to switch your position, now you against the door. “Thank god. Now, jump.”

You do, and you almost moan at how easily he grabs you in his arms, your legs straddling him. It’s like you weigh nothing to him as he carries you over to your bed and manhandles you into it, following not long after.

When he gets on top of you, he maintains eye contact as he pulls your shirt over your head, trailing kisses down to your neck, the valley of your breasts (but not before giving each of the girls their own tender kiss), and your stomach. With his eyes boring into you, he slowly, teasingly drags the pants you were wearing down your legs until you’re just in your panties.

You let out a noise, and he coos. “I know, I know, baby.” He gives you a gentle kiss on the top of your mound, and you clench, squirming from the contact. “Let me take my time, though.”

He gently, but firmly, lays a hand on your hip as he starts licking the crotch of your panties. It’s truly maddening—the sensation is there, but you oh so wish his skilled tongue was meeting your skin, bare and electric.

He’s taking his time laving, ravishing your taste, but you’ve had enough. “Gojo, please,” you sob, throwing your head back and grinding further into his tongue, which he welcomes. “Stop teasing.”

“Mmmm,” he pretends to think, all while focused and looking only at your crotch, now rubbing your clit in small, miniscule circles. “I can, but,” and now he’s just mocking you, with the way he adopts a babying tone, “I think you’re going to have to beg for it.”

You groan in frustration as a response, but he only clicks his tongue as his fingers reach and finally rid you of your panties. He spreads your folds with two fingers, his face oh so close to your bare pussy. But instead of finally giving you what you want,  he clicks his tongue, pouting as if you’re the one forcing him to be a bastard. “Yea, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to earn it.”

Before you can respond, he holds out his tongue and inches his face even closer to your bare folds until you can feel his warm breath over it. “You just have to say please.” Then, he ahhh-s, as if holding his tongue out to a doctor and says, “Look I’m so close—ahhh.”

You can only plead with him. “Please, Gojo.”

“No, it’s Satoru to you now, baby.”

“Satoru, please eat me out.”

He smiles. “Yeaa, that’s my girl.” And proceeds to eat you out in a way that has your toes curling.

He acts like a man eating his last meal on death row. It’s the masterful combination of laving over your folds, kissing your clit, and groaning and making noises that has you inching closer and closer to your orgasm. When you tell him, you’re close, he does exactly what he’s supposed to do—keep doing what he’s doing, same spot, same tempo, same pressure.

With a cry of his name, you come quickly, and he takes your writhing hips and their motion like a champ, easing you through it. When you feel the all-too-familiar feel of over sensitivity, you grab his hair and pull him towards your face, kissing him tenderly. 

He maneuvers his huge frame to lay down next to you, and you fall easily into a gentle embrace. It’s a comfortable silence, as he burrows his face into your chest and you stroke his hair gently.

Gentler than how you’ve ever treated him.

It’s this thought exactly that you voice to him. “You know,” you muse softly. “I was such a bitch to you.” This gets his attention, because he moves from where he was comfortable (your boobs) to look at you in alarm. “Like, I was always mean, and like acting all high and mighty—”

“Whatever you think you did, it was hot,” he interrupts you, grinning boyishly. “Like damn when you insult me I get all fired up—”

“Satoru!” You laugh, shocked, looking down at him. “You’re crazy.”

“Yea,” he winks. “Crazy for you.”

You smile softly at that, biting your lip. “I mean, I get that.” You feel his curious gaze rove over you and heat creeps up your neck as you confess, “Like I was stalking you at the gym. I saw you one time, and um. You definitely have a sleeper build.”

He hums. “I get that a lot.”

“Yea,” you blurt. “you’re really hot. Like you have really big arms, which I definitely didn’t notice in all those sweaters you wear. You could definitely throw me around.”

Silence.

When you look down at him, he’s looking at you mischievously. He sits up, takes off his shirt, and says, “Want to test that theory?”

The both of you test the theory, indeed—it’s a nice nod to your guys’ academic, theoretical physics roots. But instead of some theory involving dark matter or quantum physics debated while in class, this theory takes all night to prove.

general masterlist

a/n special thank you to @purplegemadventures ily pookie <3 we were discussing how a lot of fics so far have made seem nerd gojo really cute and shy but we tried to envision a shit eating sassy diva just like hidden inventory arc <3 like what that one anon said i need my gojo to be a little annoying cocky (but cute) bastard (or, i quote, "your gojo makes me want to oil his scalp and give him an aggressive head massage and mess his hair up"). ANYWAYS props to that one anon that dropped the "nerd gojo with sleeper build" and my beloved @tiramisuandlove i love you forever

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots!

🥵🥵🥵

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your bestfriend, satoru, sends your cheating boyfriend a rather explicit video of the two of you as revenge.

tags. best friend!gojo satoru x female reader. smut, pwp. dōggy style. dirty talk. crēampie. reader gets called ‘pretty, angel, baby’. cheating. consensual fīlming. anon req.

“mmshiit, should’ve fucked you long time ago,” satoru hisses, his hips stuttering against the plump flesh of your ass. he’s unable to stop himself now that he’s got his pretty best friend underneath him—in a sinful position he has only had wet dreams of.

one moment you’re crying because of your cheating boyfriend and the next you’re getting your guts rearranged by your bestfriend who comforted you through it all.

your mascara stains satoru’s pillow, your drool doing the exact same. you’re acting like a total slut for his cock, mewling for him to give you more, to give it to you faster and harder. all of which is caught on tape.

“yeah? want more, baby?” satoru coos as he holds up your phone with one hand. his other one is gripping the side of your hip—keeping your ass perked up so he can continue hitting that right spot inside of your greedy cunt. the white-haired man snickers behind the camera, “c’mon—tell your boyfriend just how much y’ need your best friend’s cock.”

you know satoru’s filming himself hitting it from the back. it’s nasty, but it only serves to excite you. you know your ‘boyfriend’ will be enraged once he receives the erotic video from you. he’s never liked satoru neither, always preventing you two from meeting each other. which was a red flag by itself.

you’ll show that hypocritical bastard.

“need more, ‘toru, please—” you babble, your voice muffled by the pillow. your body jerks with each hard thrust. every move is made with precision, with the intention of pleasuring you until your insides remember the shape of his dick only, “fuckk, ‘tis too big.”

satoru grins smugly. you’re basically admitting that he’s way bigger than that excuse of a man you’re dating. his ego gets a huge boost and it shows when he drives his throbbing cock deeper into your tight cunt.

“awwh, i know, but i bet my sweet girl can take it,” your best friend encourages you through a raspy voice. the fact that he called you his ‘sweet girl’ drives you insane. your pussy squeezes around his cock in response.

satoru’s eyes nearly roll back from the way you’re gripping him. he moves his other hand around your hips until his fingertips find your clitoris. he over stimulates you until you’re crying of pleasure.

you end up clenching around his fat dick even more. it feels like you’re trying to snap his cock in half with how much you’re sucking him in. there’s not a chance of it slipping out of you.

satoru moans loudly without any shame, letting both you and your boyfriend - who’d watch the video later - know how much he enjoys pounding your cunt like it’s actually his; “y’re so fucking tight. you sure your boyfriend’s been fucking you?”

you feel embarrassed by how much you’re enjoying his dirty talk. satoru’s drilling his cock into you so well to the point that you’ve forgotten all about the intimacy you shared with your cheating boyfriend. it was nothing compared to how satoru is treating you right this moment.

the white-haired man continues, still not believing that he’s finally living out his dreams. your body is heaven to him. satoru can’t help but whimper at the feeling your pussy sucking him in so desperately, “feels like your pussy hasn’t had any dick in a good while.”

the way you’re basically screaming into the pillow is enough evidence to confirm that your boyfriend has never fucked you properly at all. that delicious arch of your back, that ass of yours bouncing back on his pelvis in circles. . . satoru just knows it.

you hiccup and try to speak. you know your boyfriend is going to see the video and that only drives you to be more vocal than you already are. you’re going to get revenge and you’re going to make it as painful as possible.

“y-yeah,” you agree with satoru’s words. your words are basically slurred—too cockdrunk to properly talk. you lift your head up for a second to breathe and continue your whiny babbling between moans, “he’s n-never fucked me as well as you—ngh!”

your voice is perfect. everything about you is. satoru isn’t sure if he’ll even last long like this. he wants to claim you as his girl already. he wants to thrust his cum as deep as he can inside of you so you’ll only think of him.

“poor, poor baby,” satoru pouts and rubs your ass gently as he watches it bounce back at him with every thrust. the view is hypnotising. he cannot grasp the fact that your boyfriend fumbled such an amazing girl like you, “it’s okay. i’ll make it up to ya, mhm? i’ll treat you like a real man would.”

you nod and whimper in agreement, which gives satoru the green light. you’re going to be his at the end of this session. he’s going to claim you as his—finally—after all those years.

you feel yourself start to tremble. you feel tingly all over and your moans are getting louder. the curve in satoru’s dick is making your mind go blank. it makes his tip hit the deepest spots inside you, the right spots. you’re desperately searching for that sweet release.

“aht, aht, angel,” satoru clicks his tongue whilst deepening the arch of your back. his fingers trace the shape of your spine, feeling you shiver from the touch as he pounds you silly. “hold it in, yeah? need you to cum for me when i do. wanna fill this cunt to the brim.”

you try to hold on the best you can. after a couple more thrusts, satoru’s breath turns shaky and his noises turn into whimpers—a sign that he’s on the edge, “fuck fuck fuck fuck! baby- ‘m gnna cum!”

you gasp and your body spasms and squirms as you reach your climax at the exact same time. you feel your cunt being flood with spurts of semen. it’s so much—as if satoru’s been storing all of it just for you.

“there there. such a good girl,” satoru sighs and pulls out of you after making sure that you’ve settled down. he takes his dick out as slowly as possible, pointing the camera right at the lewd sight. his entire length is coated with a mixture of your slick and his white cum.

you shiver at the feeling of being left empty. satoru soothes you by pushing his cum back into your pussy with two long fingers. he films the entire process, focusing on your stuffed hole for a few seconds before putting the phone up.

satoru points the back camera at the both of you, getting the entire view of the messy bed. he grins and puts a peace sign up—ending the video with a mocking yet cold smile that’s directed to the man who’s going to be watching this video soon, “should’ve treated her better.”

oh, your boyfriend is going to be fuming. deserved..

smiling the whole time I was reading this 🤭 I love this so much

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now. 

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be. 

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What? 

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird. 

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer. 

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street. 

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing. 

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.” 

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation. 

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?” 

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?” 

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from. 

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now. 

“Alright. Plan B, then.” 

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you? 

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner. 

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head. 

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.” 

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly. 

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house. 

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins. 

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app. 

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo. 

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least. 

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in. 

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner. 

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in. 

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual. 

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed. 

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside. 

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you. 

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner. 

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit. 

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you. 

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders. 

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now. 

Gathered here - for you. 

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them. 

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second. 

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane. 

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.” 

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily. 

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up. 

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru. 

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold. 

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to. 

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list. 

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain. 

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands. 

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod. 

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight. 

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting. 

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.” 

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~” 

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.” 

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. 

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table. 

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before. 

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

 Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today. 

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic. 

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.” 

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.” 

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave. 

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.  

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it. 

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were. 

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.” 

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.” 

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip! 

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically. 

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub. 

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard.  “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. 

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.” 

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please. 

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him. 

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-”  You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want. 

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue. 

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear. 

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time. 

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. 

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now. 

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all. 

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back. 

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.” 

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard. 

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything. 

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot. 

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock  like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be. 

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much. 

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy. 

“Close?” 

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper. 

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now. 

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him. 

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

THIS IS SO GOOD that I literally took reading breaks from how fast my heart was racing 🥹 💞

Unhoneymooners!? - G.S.

Synopsis. The universe was surely playing a joke on you. Here you were, trapped on a luxury getaway with your - dangerously handsome, extremely obnoxious - ex. Either you were going to kill each other or end up pinned beneath him, split apart on his cóck. You just didn’t know what would come first.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, exes to lovers, unprotected, argument as foreplay, slight enemies to lovers, more like annoyances actually, cunnilingus, oral (male + female), spitting, creampié, one bed trope, rough, Satoru is still EXTREMELY down bad for you, and unfairly hot, forced proximity, cúmplay, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 8.5k

A/N. It’s impossible to not write Satoru without bullying him at least a little bit.

You broke up with Gojo Satoru exactly 5 months, 2 weeks, and 16 hours ago - not that you were keeping count, of course.

So why was he outside of your resort room blasting “Kill Bill” by SZA like he’s auditioning for the world’s most dramatic comeback tour? On what should’ve marked your fourth anniversary, no less.

Well, given you were the one to lock him out, but still - the stubborn bastard could at least have some decorum. 

With an exasperated sigh, you throw yourself onto the king-sized bed of your honeymoon suite, trying to will away that annoying, grating voice - not SZA, no, more so Satoru singing along at the top of his lungs to the chorus. 

How did you even get here? And with Satoru of all people - your Satoru. Or at least he was this time a little over a year ago. 

You first met Satoru when you were in university, back when he wore those pretentious circled sunglasses and waltzed around those halls like he owned the place. And after a single literature assignment together, he wasn’t just your (self-proclaimed) best friend; he was the reluctantly favorite thorn in your side. 

Like the rest of him, Satoru’s introduction into your love-life was anything but subtle. It wasn’t like he strolled in, gave a polite nod, and blended into the background. Oh no, he bulldozed his way in and dragged you to dance with him on the tables of some dingy frat party in what you could only assume was some joke from the universe at your expense.

And damn him, you think bitterly, you couldn't resist him that night. Spinning you into a dramatic dip, silver chain brushing your face as his half-lidded eyes bored into yours. You couldn’t not kiss him after the way his hands were just searing into your skin. 

God, you’ve never been able to listen to “Gasolina” the same way ever since.  

Satoru was in love as he was in the rest of life - a force of nature, and it was too easy to find yourself caught up in him.

That night at the frat party was just the beginning. From then on was a rollercoaster of everything from heated debates over the best flavor of ramen to impromptu road trips where you’d end up under a carpet of stars. Wrapped in each other’s arms and sharing whispered secrets for an unpromised future - oftentimes where Satoru would crack a joke or two about running away to Tokyo with him. To which you’d laugh it off with a “Yeah yeah, I’d leave everything I’ve known behind in a heartbeat for your dumbass, Toru.”

You just didn’t think that it would be the downfall to your relationship. All the empty promises. 

Because as those heavenly days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, eventually two years had gone by. The whirlwind romance settled into a comfortable rhythm, but with it came the looming promise of graduation and Satoru moving to work under his family company in Tokyo.

Under pressure, it wasn’t long before the cracks began to show, the arguments more frequent, and the silences more deafening. And as your relationship slowly turned into nothing more than a husk of what it used to be - so did the both of you.

Long story short, graduation was a bittersweet goodbye - and you think both of you knew long before it was actually over. Neither of you attended the afterparty - with Satoru on a flight straight to Tokyo and you at home to stuff your face with chocolate. Hey, at least you could blame your tears on finally leaving university, right? 

You had meticulously erased his name from your phone, your social media, and even your dreams - well, almost, the bastard still came around to bother you occasionally. It was messy, painful, and final.

But “final” really didn’t explain your current predicament. Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned about Satoru is that he’s always there - whether you liked it or not. He was there when you needed a partner for that literature assignment, and he was there to turn your world upside down at that dingy frat party.

Hell, he was even there to help you stubbornly chug mountains of ice cream and win that raffle for this five day-long getaway trip to the Maldives. Though, you think he might’ve chugged the ice cream without the promise of a vacation anyway.

But, when ultimately those shiny tickets came in the mail - Satoru wasn’t there. Oh well, it might’ve been a couple’s trip - but you could have a hot girl summer, right? Maybe you could even snag a hottie by the end. You’d almost forgotten that he’d be getting his copy of the tickets as well.

Yet, unfortunately - as the beginning notes of P!nk’s “So What” bursts through the heavy wooden door - you were inevitably reminded of the fact that he was here. Right now. Goading you into coming outside.

You find yourself groaning inwardly (and outwardly) because of course, why wouldn’t he come back even more obnoxious than before? You haven’t seen him in ages, yet here he is, crashing back into your life with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Or - you furrow your brows at his purposefully off-key singing carrying over the sounds of the waves outside - with the subtlety of a manchild with a JBL and a premium account on Spotify.  

Rubbing your temples in frustration, you contemplate how much longer of this it would take before you’re both kicked out of this resort. And after you ate so many ice creams to win this getaway trip? No chance.

With a resigned sigh, you rise from the bed, smoothing out the bathing suit you’d just put on before the devil incarnate showed up knocking at your door. Something hot and prickly pools in your stomach as you approach it, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the sheer absurdity of the situation. So like Satoru.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you shakily reach for the handle. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal actually.

…

What’s the worst that can happen?

Slam! 

The door swings open, and there in all his smug glory stands a very shirtless Satoru. Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru, the same asshole you’ve blocked on even Gmail. 

Except, you’re momentarily struck by how high you have to raise your eyes to meet his. Are growth spurts even a thing anymore? You didn’t have a chance to take a good look last time before slamming the door shut at the first flash of white hair and a smug grin.

But right now, traitorously, your gaze catches on just how broad his shoulders look and…since when was he so chiseled? Damn you, Tokyo - you were doing him too good.

His hair is slightly longer too, curtaining those slightly more mature features, stopping just above that ever-immature grin. One which moves as he hums, “Well, happy fourth anniversary to me, If I knew this came with the suite then I’d have swam here myself.”

You scoff, suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious as he wiggles his brows, striking blue eyes sweeping your figure from head to toe. “I’d prefer if you swam back. What are you doing?” 

“Why, just showing up to our room on our lil’ honeymoon, sweetheart.” Satoru sing-songs, leaning against the doorframe to fully prevent you from slamming the door in his (admittedly) pretty face again. “And before you try to break my nose with that door again, I won that ticket here fair and square, y’know. I ate just as much ice cream as you did for it.”

“You ate most of those before you knew about the getaway raffle.” you sigh over his nonchalant shrug, pinching your nose, “And stop calling it our honeymoon, I dumped you five months ago.”

“Well aren’t you just the gift that keeps on giving. Keeping count?”

“No. Don’t be a pest.”

“Always thought you had a thing for pests. After all, you did date me.” As Satoru grins impossibly wider, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He winks, “And if I’m a pest then you’re an itch that just won’t go away.”

“At least I’m not the itch that shows up uninvited to someone’s honeymoon suite.” you hiss. And with that you start shutting the door ever-so-slowly, delighting in the panic that overtakes Satoru’s features as he reaches out frantically.

“Hey!” he sputters, “I didn’t know you’d be here! And besides this ‘pest’ forgot his slippers all the way in Tokyo and can’t stand on flaming-hot boardwalks for too long so let me in.”

And sure enough, you glance down to see that Satoru isn’t wearing any slippers on the scorching boardwalk. The realization almost brings a smirk to your lips. This idiot. 

“Wow.”

“‘Wow’ at my feet or-”

“I should leave you here to rot just for your pure idiocy.” you deadpan, eyes locked on the way he’s burning his soles off yet still has the audacity to flash you a cocky smile.

“But you won’t.” he hums.

A beat passes. One. Two. And Satoru’s grin almost falters, before you finally relent - opening the door just a crack, cursing his entire bloodline under your breath. “You’re incorrigible” you mutter as he saunters inside victoriously, dragging his hefty luggage behind.

“Why change perfection, sweetheart~” he calls out, heading straight for the bedroom, only to let out a delighted “OooOOo” at the sight of the king-sized bed in the middle. The only bed. “How scandalous, maybe you’ll even fall in lov-” 

“Don’t. I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a seashell.” you warn, holding up both keycards threateningly, “I get the bed, you take the couch.”

“But-”

“And I’ve got the keys, so slippers or not you’ll be back out on that boardwalk.” 

A slight smile tugging at the corners of your lips at the way Satoru looked so dramatically crestfallen, you continue - just to be petty, “And no more ‘Kill Bill’ that’s on my angry ex playlist.”

With a heavy sigh he sulkily makes his way to the bathroom, calling out as he does, “Fine. But I’m showering first.”

As he disappears from sight you throw yourself onto your bed, basking in what little peace and quiet you’ll have because of your unwanted guest. This was going to be a-

“And I’m using all of your body lotions.”

“...”

“I will use one of your body lotions.”

Groaning, you sink into the plush mattress, just wishing it would swallow you whole and spare you from this torment. And this was only Day 1? This was going to be a very long five days. 

---

The first night with Satoru, honestly, wasn’t too bad. 

You don’t know what you expected exactly - maybe for him to pour hair dye in your shampoo or something. But he actually stuck to his word, slept on the couch after only a bit of taunting, and used only one of your body lotions. Your best-smelling, most expensive one, but one nonetheless.

Feeling slightly more optimistic, you spent most of the second day at the beach, meanwhile he stuck to lounging by the pool. Add in a bit of pretending you didn’t know him by the salad bar at dinner and that made for an almost-perfect hot girl summer. 

Well, considering that you were rooming with your insufferable longtime ex - in a honeymoon suite of all places. 

The only catch came that night, fully content at the burning soreness from being pushed around by the waves outside. You got ready to splay out on your bed, humming along to the tunes of your playlist and…Satoru’s lamenting?

“I swear my back feels like it’s been run over by a truck. Five of them, and a zoo.” he complains from behind you, dramatically draping himself over the couch - his impromptu bed. 

“Good.”

“What if that was my last straw?”

“Even better.”

His exaggerated, disappointed whine is both embarrassing and almost-endearing as you roll your eyes, resisting the urge to suffocate him with a pillow. “Maybe call your chiropractor guy.”

Satoru shot you a pointed look, his expression a mixture of faux innocence and irritation, which you knew too well. “I wish but he’s trekking through the Himalayas. C’mon~ Don’t you think that lovely king-sized bed is too big for just one?”

“No, but the boardwalk sure is. Maybe you should try it out.” you monotone, getting ready to end this conversation once and for all. 

But when has Satoru ever let you off easy? He sits up abruptly, a devious smile curling his lips. “Ohh, I get it.” he taunts, batting his long lashes mockingly, “You’re scared to sleep in the same bed with me.”

Huh?

“Out of all the idiotic-” you cut yourself off by whirling around to face his smug grin, “Why would I be scared to sleep in a bed with you. I’ve done that far too many times already.”

“Exactly,” he chuckles. “And all those times you could barely last an hour before without keeping your hands off of me. Scared you’ll end up pinned underneath me and stuffed full like old times, sweetheart?”

You narrow your eyes at him despite the heat burning your face. “The only thing I’m scared of is your icicle feet on my side.”

He laughs, a sound that’s equal parts irritating and endearing, and stands up from where he was slumped on the couch. Making his way slowly, but surely towards you, “Oh, c’mon. For old times’ sake, admit it, you miss me.”

"Yeah, missed the peace and quiet I don’t have because of your big mouth,” you scoff. Finding it hard to meet his twinkling gaze as he comes close enough that you’re toe to toe with him. Your cheeks burn at the proximity - hot enough to match the heat radiating off his body. 

Satoru shakes his head, undeterred by your threats. And suddenly you get the overwhelming urge to throw him out the window and straight into the ocean. “You can deny it all you want, but you still have feelings for me.”

Your jaw clenches at his audacity. “You wish. I’d never.”

“Then prove it.”

Damn, he was good.

Which is probably how you found yourself lying in the same bed as Satoru, with a wall of all the pillows in the room erected between you two - and a few extra from room service just in case. 

“Sweetheart, this is a king-sized bed. Is the fortress really necessary?”

You wrap your blankets tighter around yourself, trying to ignore the figure radiating warm right next to you. Muttering out a muffled little, “Yeah, so you can keep your mitts off of me.”

Satoru groans dramatically, bed creaking as he shuffles what you can only assume to be closer to you. “You keep your mitts off of me, you lecher.” he quips, voice dripping with sarcasm as he inches closer.

You stiffen at his proximity, feeling his warmth seep through the layers of blankets and pillows as he chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine, “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. We used to share a bed all the time.”

“That was before,” you interject. God, you didn’t like where this conversation was going. 

“Before what?” Satoru presses, his voice low and insistent. 

Now, you might’ve let yourself be goaded into sharing a bed but these were old wounds better off left alone. You hiss, tone firm, “Before. Now sleep” 

Before when you didn’t have to make a wall of pillows. Before when he would hold you tight and whisper sweet secrets into your ear. That he’d buy you the biggest ring he saw and promise you the world. Before- 

“I missed you, y’know.” Satoru breaks the silence barely audible over the sound of your own thoughts. The word pangs through your mind and claws at your chest. And at your silence he continues, tone a little lighter, “And stop hogging all the blankets, I’m gonna freeze to-”

“Boardwalk.”

“My apologies, ma’am. Goodnight, ma’am.”

And he sinks back into his pillow with a huff, you let out a sigh of relief. Something hot coiling in your stomach as you close try to catch as much sleep as you possibly could with the bane of your existence laying right beside you. The suddenly taller, dangerously handsome, still as-obnoxious-as-ever bane of your existence. 

You just wonder if he remembered “before”.

Oh, how Satoru remembered “before”. So much so that he had sixteen different playlists dedicated to you even after the breakup.

It’s divine punishment - it has to be. Satoru thinks there’s no reasonable explanation for the series of unfortunate events happening to him other than punishment from his ancestors above for being such a pussy and losing the love of his life.

First he forgets his slippers, then he ends up locked out of his own honeymoon suite by said love of his life. Granted, all thoughts of his poor burnt soles went out the window the moment he caught a glimpse of you in that positively sinful bikini. God, were you glowing. A goddess upon Earth - he could really give the Gojo Satoru of five months ago a good, hard kick.

And now he’s stuck in a - very comfortable - prison with you just inches away, tossing and turning in that way he knows means that you can’t sleep either. 

Honestly, very funny universe, the great Gojo Satoru demands a refund. Way to punk’d him into confronting the feelings he’s desperately been trying to bury these past few months - ever since he got on that plane to Tokyo and contemplated faking a heart attack just to get off. 

Realizing just then that he lost the love of his life - and the only woman who’d tolerate his karaoke nights. But with that realization came another, more jarring one: he was too late. 

Every touch, every laugh, and even every time you rolled your eyes was etched into his very soul, and it felt like a montage from a sappy breakup movie directed by a sadistic screenwriter who had it out for him. 

And it really didn’t help that this was the exact suite he was planning once upon a time to propose in. God, how you’d feed him to the crabs if he said anything about that - nevermind the fact that he was actually one that booked this-

But still, some traitorous, annoying part of his heart interrupts, she still hasn’t made you sleep on the boardwalk yet.

Maybe - just maybe - he’ll wake up to a second chance?

…

Ha. As if.

“I can’t sleep.” Satoru groans out loud, more so to drown out his own thoughts than anything.

“Well, I can. Goodnight.”

Ah, his girl was such a lil’ liar. Undeterred, the mattress creaks as he shuffles his weight to excitedly face you, taking a moment to admire how pretty you looked under the dim moonlight. He plows on, “Hey, if you promise not to make me crab food, wanna walk along the beach and watch the stars?”

A beat of silence. One. Two. so deafening and tense that Satoru was half a second away from obnoxiously laughing it off as a joke and pulling out his Emo Times™ playlist. 

“Or I can go back to the couch and-”

“Shut up. Let’s watch the stars, Satoru.”

But what do you know - maybe the universe hasn’t given up on him just yet. 

And, well, if he woke up the next morning breaching your fortress - your warm breath tickling his neck and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, like the lifeline he never knew he needed - then, neither of you mentioned it.

---

“Hey, Satoru. You think we’ll always be like this?” you hum into your boyfriend’s chest, barely a whisper as the looming fears of, well, everything ring in your mind. 

He pulls you close, flashing a mischievous grin before planting a dramatic kiss on the top of your head. “Duh, I’ll always be around to drive you dangerously close to a stroke, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes, yet bury yourself closer to his warmth anyway.

“Besides, it doesn’t matter if I have to drag you by the leg to Tokyo. Wherever you are is where I belong. ”

---

You’ve come to learn that a resort island is only so big when you’re actively trying to avoid your 6’3 manchild of an ex.

Now that you were rooming with Satoru, sleeping with Satoru (in a literal sense only, of course), and just-so-happening to bump into him at the beach - somehow, talking with him is a little easier, his presence just a bit more exciting than you’d care to admit. 

If the you of four days ago could see what had become of you, then she’d probably slap some sense into you faster than you could say “Kill Bill”. Sleeping in the same bed (still only literally), having dinner, watching the stars - with Gojo Satoru? You’ve gone completely off your rocker. 

But could you really be blamed? These last few days have you feeling like maybe you’ve been dropped into an alternate universe, where you and Satoru never broke up. 

Yet, reality is a persistent little bastard. And with the end of your trip looming dangerously closer, the past you would be cackling mockingly in your face, flashing a large sign in big, red letters reading “I TOLD you so.” 

Whatever. Maybe by this time tomorrow both of you could laugh this all off as a silly little adventure and call yourself somewhat begrudging friends. Maybe you’d even end up unblocking him by the end - on Gmail, at least.

At the very least, dinnertime was a solace - both from your thoughts and the smug bastard talking your ear off about how he could “make that spaghetti better than a thousand Italian grandmothers.”

Until the fourth - and final - night, that is. When the resort, deciding that your current torture wasn’t already enough, arranged a special candlelit dinner. A romantic one. By the beach. With Satoru of all people. 

Great. Wonderful. Perfect, in fact. Going out with a bang. Was this really part of the all-inclusive package? It was like the universe was playing some twisted joke on you - or some awful version of wingmanning. 

You grit your teeth silently as you’re ushered to the beachside table, thoughts barely audible over the waves crashing against the shore and the soft, romantic music drifting from the band nearby. 

The complete opposite of Satoru, who was already seated at the table and enjoying himself far too much for your liking. He lounged back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he watched you sit opposite him uncomfortably.

You hated to admit it - but God was he dangerously beautiful in that crisp white button-up, one that you knew was from his overpriced collection for special occasions. You found yourself fighting to avoid the amber hues twinkling in his eyes as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm shadows that bring out his pretty features.

Pretty? So frighteningly pretty - until he speaks, that is.

“And here I thought our honeymoon couldn’t get any worse. You’re sweating bullets, sweetheart. This your first date with me or something?”

“We’re not on a honeymoon, Satoru. And no, it just brings back memories.” you scoff. Relishing in the way he inches his chair closer to listen, clearly not expecting this sudden sentimentality. “Memories of why I blocked you on every social media.”

All but slamming his head down on the table, Satoru whines out, “Ouch, straight for the jugular. That mouth is still as bitchy as ever, huh? Though I do prefer it choking on my-”

“I’m going to throw you into the ocean.”

“Ooo, kinky~” he hums, swirling his wine glass, “But you know what this reminds me of? That one time we had dinner under the stars.”

You froze, the memories suddenly flashing back to you despite your best efforts to suppress them. “Oh yeah,” you muse. A chuckle leaving your mouth despite yourself, “Wasn’t that where you spilled ketchup all over your shirt and then insisted it was a fashion statement?”

He leans in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hey! It worked, didn’t it? I got compliments from everyone including you.”

“I was just trying to stop you from bursting into tears.” you roll your eyes, shaking your head at the memory. 

“Exactly, sweetheart. Like moths to a flame.”

“More like to a bug-zapper.”

Satoru throws his head back and laughs, loud and unabashed. A sound that echoes across the beach and makes something warm and sticky strum at your heartstrings. And at that moment, that stupid, little part of you didn’t even mind that you were at a special candlelit dinner. A romantic one. By the beach. With Satoru of all people. 

And he didn’t even have to goad you into it with SZA this time.

As the orange glow of the setting sun melded into the cool blue of the night, it almost felt like slipping back into an old routine. The food had long since been finished. Jabs and shared memories flowing through the air like the gentle waves lapping at the shore.

The cool air was now thick with contentment and something so unknown yet so familiar that it made your heart race. 

 “I swear.” you groan over Satoru’s loud cackles, “He tried to charm his way out of the bill by flirting with the waitress. In front of me.”

Satoru doubles over, clutching his stomach as he laughs uproariously. “Classic move! If he’s going to be a cheapskate then he should’ve at least been successful with it.”

Damn, was he eternally grateful for these dim candles. Otherwise you’d surely have caught the rosy flushing tinting his cheeks. How dare you sit there so gorgeous and perfect in front of him. Perfect for him - you haven’t changed one bit.

“Right? She looked ready to fling us both out.” You chuckle, eyes catching on the little dimple just at the corner of his mouth as Satoru shoots you a sly grin. “Mhm, I know if it were me I would’ve charmed us out of the bill successfully.”

You raise a brow, retorting, “Oh please. I’ve had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of that ‘charm’. You’d probably end up charming us into washing dishes in the kitchen.” 

Ah, right now, he doesn’t think he wants to be anywhere but here - bickering with you. 

“Ouch, you wound me, woman!” Satoru feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically before leaning down to whisper, low and conspiratorial, “Besides, I doubt you even remember what pleasure feels like since being with me.”

A thrill goes down your spine as you realize the insinuation of his words, steady and searing - matching that of  Satoru’s fingers on yours - which had snuck their way across the table, lazily tracing patterns along your skin. 

When did they even get there? Sly bastard.

Your mouth drops into a soft oh! at the dangerous glint in his eyes. But you refuse to back down, “Don’t flatter yourself, Satoru. I’ve had other guys make me cum much harder than you have.”

Touch burning. Mapping every curve and dip he’d known so well, and this time - you graze them back. A challenge. God, you missed that warm little flutter in your chest. 

That seems to catch him by surprise, as those darkened blue eyes widen. But there’s a dangerous edge to his grin as he purrs, voice low. “Is that so?” 

And with that, Satoru’s chair is scraping softly against the sand as he stands up, “C’mon, you’re gonna regret that, sweetheart.”

Oh. 

Satoru knows that it’s been 5 months, 4 weeks, and 8 hours since you two lasted an entire dinner civilly - not that he was counting, duh.

So when he begged the resort staff into setting the two of you up on this special candlelit dinner, he was expecting you to drown him in the lobster tank halfway through or at least end the night with a slap. 

What he certainly did not expect was to end dinner with you shoved against the closed door of your suite, legs wrapped impossibly tight around his waist, and lips trailing hot, openmouthed kisses down your neck. He angles your neck, body pressing so impossibly close to yours.

Inwardly, you curse his button-up for being so goddamn thin that you could feel his abs rub against you with every little movement. Toned chest rumbling as he groans at your hands tugging at those soft locks - just a tiny revenge, for your body lotion. 

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, and he breathes it in with an almost-pained sigh - not wanting to part for even a second. Because fuck it took so long to get you back and he wasn’t going to waste a single moment. 

Pulling just a hair’s breadth away, “Tell me what you want. Always knew we’d end up-”

“Just shut up and kiss me, you smug bastard.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And, well, who was he to deny you? So he does. 

His lips are searing on yours, hasty and greedy. With a tinge of something so painfully familiar. Your hands make their way onto his chest, feeling the thundering heartbeat against your fingertips - matching that of yours. 

Sweet. You tasted so sweet. Just like honey, and all the dreams where he didn’t leave you behind. Where he didn’t get on that damned plane but instead ran to you all the way from the airport like those sappy romcoms you love. 

He licks at the seam of your lips, drinking in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, God, knowing his luck - he probably won’t. 

One hand cups your cheek so gently - a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his lips as he kisses you deeper. Meanwhile the other wanders the expanse of your body, leaving a burning trail of fire in their wake.

Satoru parts with a playful nip to your bottom lip - and before you realize what’s happening, the zipper hits the ground. He’s ripping your pretty dress off - mumbling something about “buying a new one” before large hands surge forward, groping and kneading your tits.

His mouth waters at the sight of your bra. Light blue - to match his eyes. “You evil, evil woman.” he mutters into the soft valley of your breasts as you giggle delightedly. Oh, how he couldn’t get enough of you.

And if there was ever a moment that Satoru thinks he could cream his pants right there, then this would be at the very top, followed very closely by the sight of that withering glare you shot after opening that suite door to him just a few days ago.

He unhooks your bra with one hand, throwing it blindly across the room as if it killed him to see you clothed. 

Immediately, Satoru drops to his knees with the desperation of a madman, coming face-to face with the heavenly sight of your clothed cunt, soaking through your thin panties. 

“Didn’t specify where I had to kiss, sweetheart.”

Your gaze pierces through him, as it always did. “What are you-” Your words get choked up in your throat as his tongue darts out. Licking a long, languid stripe over your clothed cunt. 

“Shit. So sweet f’me, jus’ like I remember. Just one taste and I feel like m’gonna cum in my pants.” Satoru groans, urgently sliding your wet panties down your quivering legs. 

“F-flattery won’t work.” you stammer out as his hot breath fans your quivering entrance as he waits just a second - one, two.

Drinking in the view of your pretty pussy with dazed, half-lidded eyes. Wet - so wet, he almost wants to tease you - just a bit, to see if you’ll get even wetter. Ah, he doesn’t have enough time to take in this view - probably never will. Would it ruin the mood if he took a picture?

“Oh, I’d say it worked pretty well.”

Cock twitching carnally, Satoru needed to taste you now. He immediately surges forward. Breathing you in so sinfully, pooling your juices on his tongue. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he tips his head back back back to let it slide down his throat. 

Shit, if you were the forbidden fruit then he would gladly be cast out of the garden of Eden. 

Half-delirious thoughts running through his mind, Satoru flattens his tongue across your swollen folds. Leisurely sliding between them, catching on your throbbing clit up and down up and down up and-

“Oh- hngh, Satoru faster-”

“So bossy.” he hums prettily around your swollen clit, the vibrations stimulating it just right. But of course, what his girl wants, she will get. 

Lewd squelches and your mewls of his name ring in the heady room as he speeds up his ministrations. Rolling his tongue harshly along your clit, sucking so sensually. Licking at your sweet cunt, dipping just into your sloppy hole. 

You almost miss the long fingers that deftly slide their way up your thigh, spreading your folds with his thumbs. A low groan sounds at the back of his throat as your walls flutter so sinfully around nothing - aching for more friction. 

Urgently, Satoru bullies his fingers past your folds, sinking deep into your plushy walls as his tongue continues its abuse. So warm and wet around him. Curling his fingers just right.

“Ah- fuck, Satoru- Feels s’good.” you gasp as he starts thrusting his fingers back and forth. A ruthless pace that has tears stinging your eyes, hitting that spot over and over and-

“Oh yeah? Thought you didn’t like my ‘big mouth’?” he purrs, muffled around your clit, “Look at you, sweetheart, now falling apart cos’ of it.”

You scoff, fingers tangling in his silky hair, pushing him deeper into your dripping pussy - mostly because you needed it, but somewhat because you really needed him to shut up. “Yeah, I like it better when you shut the fuck up.”

And with a dark chuckle, his mouth is back on your cunt. Your slick glossy and dripping down the corner of his mouth as he alternates between sucking unforgivingly on your ravaged clit and fucking into you at the same time as his fingers. 

And in the delicious stretch of your cunt, you barely register the metallic clinking of a belt before Satoru presses his clothed erection into you.

Shit. You clench so obscenely around his tongue at the feeling of his clothed, painfully hard and throbbing against your leg. Fuck - as big as you remember. You weren’t gonna be able to walk for a while.

“You like this, huh?” he murmurs, speeding up the rhythm of his fingers. Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure down your spine.

Cracking an eye open you risk a glance downward. Greedily eyeing the hand wrapped tightly around the base, moving up up up. Pumping in small, jerky movements at the same pace of his fingers fucking into you. “Like the way m’getting off to tonguefucking my girl?”

“Like thinking about how this is what I thought about all those lonely fucking night without you?” You arch into his touch, fingers searing on his scalp and angling Satoru just right to make your knees weak. 

He’s so close that you can feel the precum smearing onto your leg. Mouth fucking you in a way you knew he wanted to with his cock right now. Rough and unrelenting. 

“Like thinking about how you’re all I can fucking think about.”

“Hngh- Yes, Satoru! Yes-” 

You see stars as you cum - or maybe those were the tears in your eyes. Pulling Satoru impossibly closer to your quivering pussy so that you could ride out your high on his pretty face. And he readily accepts it - letting himself be handled roughly with the conviction of a man that wouldn’t mind dying if it was suffocating in-between your pretty thighs. 

Your vision is hazy, blood still roaring in your ears as Satoru stands up. Not even bothering to wipe away the wet trail of your slick prettily glossing his lips before capturing yours in a searing kiss. 

“Y’know, sweetheart,” he gasps in between heated kisses. “We got a king-sized bed so we better make use of it, hm?”

Your back hits the mattress before you can even react. Reeling from shock and the audacity as you bounce at the sheer force of his throw. 

“Next time you do that you’re-” 

Whatever insult at the tip of your tongue melts away immediately at the purely pornographic sight of Satoru stalking his way towards you from the foot of the bed. Eyes hooded, cock rock-hard, kiss-bitten lips parted slightly in a way that was so fucked-out.

Unhurriedly approaching you with such a predatory glint in his darkened eyes as he fucks his fist slowly - so agonizingly slowly. Eyes locked on you.

Despite cumming not even minutes before, your pussy jumps in anticipation. Immediately reaching over as soon as he’s close enough - as if in a trance - to replace his hand with yours. 

He was big - so mouthwateringly big. Flushed your favorite shade of pink at his leaking tip, pulsing veins glistening in the dim light - every part of Satoru was so unfairly pretty.

So hot and heavy in your hand as you pump him at a steady, methodical pace. Precum smearing on your palm, trailing down your wrist as you pump. Tighter on the base, thumbing teasingly under his slit the way you knew he used to like. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Still remember, huh?” he hisses lowly. Ah, the way he still likes. 

“Mhm.” you hum absentmindedly, thighs clenching together at the way his hips grind in shallow, mindless little motions into your soft hand. Meeting your strokes as if trying to fuck something so delicious out of him.

And, well, you just couldn’t resist a taste. Bending down in one, fluid motion to delicately lick at his angry, hard head. Slightly salty taste on your tongue as you swipe at the droplets of precum pooling on his tip. Tracing lightly - ever-so-lightly - down his prominent veins. 

Satoru groans, low and hoarse with desire, “Shit, hah- you don’ ngh- have to-”

“Shut up, Satoru.” 

And with that, you’re shoving down as much as you can of his throbbing erection down your throat. Cunt clenching at the way he hardens impossibly as you choke and gag around him.

“Shit, oh- Oh fuck, m’girl. Yes yes yes-.” Satoru lets out a guttural moan. Fingers threading through your hair as he uses it as leverage to fuck himself slowly, deeper and deeper into your heavenly mouth. Hips stuttering and jerky with pleasure. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Half-delirious and cock-drunk, you take him all the way till your nose was buried in the tufts of white at his toned pelvis, already so wet with saliva and precum. 

Still got it, some smug, utterly debauched part of yourself titters. 

It was dizzying, the way he was pulsing in your throat, his heady scent filling your senses. Beginning to move up and down up and down in hasty, desperate bobs of your head. Pulling such lewd gasps and moans from his lips. 

You moan around Satoru’s thick cock, clawing at his toned hips for some semblance of stability. Some truly animalistic part of yourself relishing in the neat, red lines down his milky skin. The sight hazy through the tears that spring to your eyes at the way his fat tip hits your abused throat. A relentless, sinful tempo you were steadily losing your mind to.

Messy.  It was so fucking messy.

You just wondered if his orgasm would be the same…

But, alas, one can’t always get what they want. Because Satoru pulls you off of his achingly hard cock with a lewd pop! that rings in his ears and makes your cunt twitch. 

“Shit, sweetheart. Any longer and I’ll have to start thinking about ol’ Prof. Gakuganji to not cum.” he pants through ragged breaths, flashing you a deceptively innocent grin. “Now, lay back and spread ‘em f’me and let me see if your pretty pussy can still handle me.”

And that you don’t argue with. 

It’s almost embarrassing - the way you scramble desperately to sink back into the mattress. Letting Satoru manhandle your legs open so shamefully for him, throwing them over his muscled shoulders. But that’s a problem for the future, not lust-drunk you. 

Right now you couldn’t give less of a fuck as his hungry gaze locks on your glistening pussy. Pausing for just a split-second before spitting once. Twice. Thrice onto your waiting cunt. Making you feel more and more like an object as the warm saliva mixes obscenely with your slick, trickling down to form such a sinful pool on the sheets below. 

And you liked it.

Almost as much as you loved the way Satoru drags his tip along your swollen folds, catching so maddeningly on your clit. Teasingly pooling your slick on his leaking head. It was so sloppy. And too slow. 

“Satoru, I’ve waited five months too long for this. If you’re going to fuck me then fuck me like you mean it.” you grit out, frustration and pure need boiling over within you. 

“Oh? So it’s like that, huh?” 

And maybe you were a mastermind, maybe you were an idiot - probably both. Because Satoru immediately pushes in one, long thrust into your dripping cunt. Your words catch pathetically in your throat as he loses grip on whatever semblance of restraint he had - or his sanity - whichever one would break you first. 

Fuck, it feels so heavenly. Oh, how you missed him.

Bowing his body down down down till his damp forehead met yours. Folding you completely underneath him in the way you’ve found that only the smug bastard, Gojo Satoru can. 

You could almost sob at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, borderline insane, and exactly what you’d been trying to deny that you’d been craving all these past five months. Being split apart on his throbbing cock, feeling like you were about to be absolutely devoured underneath him. 

It seems Satoru was just as needy for you, hot and throbbing agonizingly inside you, each little bump bump bump against your walls matching that of your heart thundering against your chest. 

Or was that Satoru’s? At this point you couldn’t even tell. 

“Oh, god yes-, jus’ like that ah shit shit shit-”

“This what you wanted, yeah?” A low growl leaves his throat at how sinfully your walls were milking him as he pulls back. All the way till his leaking tip was just innocently kissing your sloppy hole - only to ram his cock all the way back into your snug cunt. “To be split apart on my cock?” 

Shit, he could just about pass out right now with the way your cunt was sucking him in so greedily like she never wanted to part. 

Guess she missed him too, he thinks deliriously. Not even having to think about it as he starts fucking into you in shallow, mindless little thrusts. Pushing himself deeper and deeper into your plushy cunt. 

“Äh- fuck, yeah. S’all I’ve wanted.” you mewl, feeling so vulnerable and exposed under the hungry eyes boring into yours. A dark gleam in them as he grins, “Then take it back.”

Disoriented, you gasp out a strangled, “What?” before Satoru’s hips become rougher, chasing his high as much as yours. 

“What you said at dinner.” your lips fall into a soft oh! as you realize just what he’s talking about, “Admit that no man makes you cum as hard as I do.”

God, you don’t think you could answer even if you wanted to, choking on the harsh, purposeful movements of his hips just to fuck your soul out. 

Heavy balls stinging your skin, the lewd sounds of skin-on-skin fills the heady air. Driving you to insanity. An absolutely unforgiving cadence that has the bed creaking in protest. Ah, whatever, he could buy them a new one anyway if this one just so happens to break.

“Take it back yet?” He had to break you first though.

Slick gushes out of your heated cunt, dripping down his length and pooling at his heavy balls, stinging your ass at each merciless thrust. “No.” 

A large hand hastily makes its way down to draw rough, frenzied little circles on your throbbing clit. Voice strangled, sweat beading on his forehead, thrusts becoming increasingly sloppier. “How about now?”

“Ah- hngh- oh fuck. Satoru!” You could only moan softly in response, broken whimpers leaving you each time his tip kissed your cervix. Angling his hips just right to expertly brush against that one spot he knew so well would have you keening and bucking up into his cock. Your face almost burns at the sheer familiarity of it all. This bastard knew you too well. 

And something about that made such an uncomfortable, prickly feeling pool in your stomach. 

Something which you knew would only be sated if you looped your arms around his neck. Nails digging into his sculpted back as you pulled him impossibly closer.

Kissing his flushed cheeks as he murmurs, “Take it back, sweetheart.”

Despite the thick cock splitting you in half till you probably couldn’t walk tomorrow morning, you find it in yourself to huff out a soft laugh at the way Satoru’s tone teetered on just that endearing side of sulky. “Fine. You win, Toru.” you whisper into his lips,

And then you’re cumming. White-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes and Satoru’s lips gently slotting against yours as he fucked you through your high. Acting as if the fucked-out whimper of his nickname is one he’ll never forget. 

As if he couldn’t cum simply from hearing it leave your pretty lips. And he does, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum painting your plushy walls white with a raw groan of your name. It oozes out of your cunt and onto the mess of sheets below as he fucks his seed into you as a lover would. As he would. 

It was intoxicating - everything from the way you milked his cock so sinfully, to the arms tight around his shoulders. Pulling him close, running soothingly along his skin as Satoru collapses onto you with a final, fucked-out thrust. 

And despite being a lightweight, Satoru’s never been so easily drunk off of something than he was off of you. God how he missed this - how he missed you. 

So much so that he can’t put it into words - and probably won’t ever be able to. But it’s alright, because your sticky body snug against his, and Satoru arms tenderly around your waist - but you didn’t mind. Both of you understood.

Satoru traces his fingers lazily along your side, neither of you bothering to tackle the mammoth task of cleaning up for now. Each movement slow and gentle, as if any sudden movement might shatter the delicate balance between you. 

All is quiet in your little haven, and you could almost fall asleep. The most contented one you’ve had in a while - 5 months, 3 weeks, and 7 hours ago to be exact.

But, of course, Satoru can’t keep his mouth shut for nothing. You jolt out of your reverie as he hastily tries to stifle the startled laugh that huffs out of him. Your dazed eyes meet his in the dim lighting, raising a brow in question.

“It’s just…” he starts, voice soft, “You still call me Toru. Feels like home.”

Ah.

You find yourself chuckling softly with him. Heat rushing to your cheeks, burying yourself deeper into his warm chest, to hide the embarrassingly flustered smile breaking out across your face if anything. 

Chuckling, Satoru shifts closer, touch now feather-light against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with his fingertips. Faltering ever-so-slightly as you mutter out, “Happy anniversary, by the way. I didn’t say it earlier because someone was being a public menace.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault that someone locked me out of my own honeymoon suite.” he laughs, drinking in your pretty lil’ smile. 

Ah, you were perfect. As you always were. Satoru can’t help but utter out a little, “Hey, if I tell you something absolutely stupid, would you promise not to make me fish food?”

“Absolutely not.”

He knew you’d say that. So he flashes you an easy grin, a hint of nervousness in it that he’s sure you see through - you always do. 

“So…” he begins, “First thing’s first, I’m thinking of expanding my father’s company further overseas and it might just so happen that I’m leading the branch development and get to pick where exactly.”

God, you made him feel like such a teenager. At your stunned silence, Satoru could barely raise his eyes to meet yours as he plows on, stumbling so uncharacteristically over his words, “You, I picked where you are.”

You’re breathless, words barely audible as his sinks in. “What? Toru that’s-”

“And don’t be mad but you kinda sorta didn’t-win-the-raffle-so-instead-I-planned-this-getaway-when-we-were-together.”

Any and every trace of breathless euphoria leaves your tone as you narrow your eyes at the very guilty Satoru beside you. Fidgeting under your intense scrutiny. Finally - after what seems like an eternity - you find your senses after his whiplash-inducing information dump. 

A hand immediately shoots out to squeeze his side, right where you knew he was dangerously ticklish.

“You sneaky little-” you scold over his laughed out yells of, “Mercy! No murder on our honeymoon!” squirming helplessly beneath you.

“I can’t believe you let me chug all that ice cream.”

“Exactly- hah- help! You w-would’ve been so sad that you ah- didn’t win.” he manages to choke out under your attack.

Finally relenting, only once you’re sure he’ll be feeling the burn of laughter until your flight tomorrow, you release him from your grasp. A satisfied smirk playing on your lips as you lean in close. “You’re lucky I still love you, you smug bastard” you deadpan.

“Aww, you beat me to it.” Satoru whines. Yet he reaches out to cup your cheek, “And I love you,” words hanging in the air like a promise. “With every fiber of my being.”

You let yourself be begrudgingly pulled into his embrace again, hands caressing along your skin like the highest form of worship. Satoru sighs out a contented, “Best honeymoon ever.” 

But of course, you couldn’t help but bully your idiotic boyfriend. “This is not a honeymoon, Toru.” you mutter into his heated skin.

He only presses you closer to him. Yeah maybe not, fingers deftly dancing along your left hand. But maybe next time. 

“Wanna watch the stars and tell me all about that branch development?”

“Of course, sweetheart, but first can you at least unblock me on Gmail now?”

“...”

You broke up with Gojo Satoru exactly 5 months, 3 weeks, and 12 hours ago. And as for how long it’s been since he won you back - well, you think it might just be one of the few things you didn’t keep count of.

A/N. Based on my vacay at Lily Beach except I didn’t meet my future husband there :0

Plagiarism not authorized.

meet you where the sky meets the earth

to love is to listen to your heart, not your brain. to dream whilst in love, is to make your brain listen to your heart.

▸ gojo satoru x fem!reader; former teacher x former student [gojo is six yrs older than reader]; bittersweet fluff; you're so in love w satoru, it shd hurt- but it doesn't because you've grown numb to the ache; one-sided feelings [are they really?]; few mentions of food; gojo calls you 'cookie'; this is way too tender even for me, istg; 1.5k wc

▸ belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna! 😊

▸ the header is from pinterest, the dividers are by @benkeibear, the characters used here aren't mine. pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this. hope y'all enjoy reading this ❤️❤️

the first time you think of marrying gojo, you're only twenty years old.

hardly the age to be dreaming of wedding bells at, right?

yeah, right. that's very, very right— still, your heart is your heart, just how your brain is your brain, the former easily swaying the latter by a few skipped beats— and you find your cheeks growing warm, laughs stumbling past your lips as you place the box of cornflakes into your shopping cart.

gojo sputters from beside you, eyes comically wide behind his shades as they dart from you to the elderly woman before.

you take a second to compose yourself before answering the ask that created this mess in the first place, a polite smile lining your face, "oh, no– not at all, ma'am! we're not married. i'm just an old friend helping him with the groceries, haha."

"oh," that's the only thing the woman says in reaction, kind smile now a tiny frown before it reappears. and she apologises, "i'm sorry, dears. just thought you two to be newlyweds from how giddy and loving you seemed to each other... time i went for an eye check-up, yes?"

"hey, please don't be sorry..." you start to say, but before you can get any further, the woman has already walked away with her shoppping basket.

you fall silent.

the same way the man next to you too has grown quiet, an awkward silence taking up the foot between you both. until you break it with a strained chuckle.

"we were acting giddy and loving to each other, eh?"

"were we?" comes the contemplative question to your comment. you look up to find gojo looking at you, the blue of his eyes weirdly bright in the dim lights of the supermarket as he repeats, "were we, cookie?"

yes. no. you don't really know—

yes, 'cause you know you love him.

not since forever, no, but close enough to it: your once-fascination for the supposed mortal deity of the jujutsu world, the mitochondrion on which the cellular structure of the society banks to survive; that grew into something made of wonder, respect and fondness, as you slowly came to know not only the icon but also the man behind it; that grew into something so profound, nestling deep within your existence– so much so that you feel the earth shifting on its axis everytime he calls you or grins at you or just looks in your direction—

no, 'cause you know you aren't loved back.

not the way you wish to be... not that you blame gojo for that, though!

you know he is way too busy to be thinking of such topics– what with being the strongest sorcerer ever, the head of the one-man gojo clan, the teacher to the first-years at tokyo high, the legal guardian– but in fact, the father figure to the two kids, 'gumi and 'miki– or maybe, just maybe, he is busy, alright, but not too busy— gojo simply doesn't see you that way; he sees you to be nothing but his former student— one he knows he can rely on to help with his children, or the groceries, or a variety of other menial daily tasks he can just hire help for—

you don't know.

yeah... you really, really don't know– and by now, you think you don't even want to know anymore. it's easy, it's safe, it's nice to remain not knowing. the word 'yes' comes with too many dreams– the word 'no' serves the perfect haven to nightmares.

the three words "i don't know" bear no such burden on their back– an untroubled answer you decide to offer, decide to escape using for the time being— until a slight knock on the head interrupts you, followed by an entertained set of chortles.

you peer up to find gojo beaming down at you, his eyes crinkled and cheeks dimpled. something twists in the middle of your chest, but it isn't painful; it's grounding. pleasant, even.

"it's too easy to get you worried, y'know? you're unbelievably easy to manipulate, heh."

"oh, am i now?" you retort, eyes narrowing into a cross glare– only to be betrayed by the fond smile grazing your lips not even a beat later. the man hums, grin simmering down to a knowing smile.

"mmhm," he says with that musical sway to his tone that never fails to make your fingers tingle, "you should have seen your face when i asked you the question– so pale and stiff– almost as if i was asking you to leave then and there, hearing that granny's comments—"

"you would have asked me to, if they were true– wouldn't you?"

gojo's smile vanishes in the blink of an eye. and you think the hand he has stretched out to the shelves of biscuits might fall too– but it does not, and you see him take a packet of your favourite bourbon biscuits followed by a packet of the digestives you've been forcing him to eat, and place them into the cart.

he checks the shopping list in your hand before he looks back at you.

before he smiles back at you: so soft, so solemn, so un-satoru— you instantly regret interrupting him with such a question.

but you do know how it is, don't you? what with a thudding heart and a thinking brain...

the handle of the cart digs deep indents into your palm as you press the weight of your worries into the cool metal and lean towards your companion on this grocery run, the same way a moth flies towards a flame, towards its doom–

"don't you ever dream of falling in love, gojo-san?" you let your voice drop to a murmur, audible only to you and the object of your desires, the subject of your worries, "do you not dream of a happily ever after with your 'one'– do you, gojo-san?"

"no," the response to your words comes in the very same instant. the man's shades slip a touch down the bridge of his nose as he pins his sharp gaze on you– though it can do nothing to hide the mild tremor in his grin from you when he says, "and i don't plan on dreaming ever. dreaming is only for fools with too much time to spare– do i look like a fool with too much time to spare, cookie?"

no. not at all. you don't. you look the farthest from it, in fact— is what you know you should say, and just drop the matter. for now. forever—

but you don't... just don't.

retorting instead, still a murmur but with the faint lick of a fire now, "and what do you suggest should be done to those fools, gojo-san? punished severely for their grievous crime of dreaming, hm?"

"oh, don't be too harsh," he tuts with a breezy chuckle, "what people do is honestly their business; one i've got no interest in interfering in— but..." his grin twists into something wry, a change you find tough to tear your gaze away from, "i don't think i would give such folks the time of my day– it's simply not worth it to talk with those whose feet are not on the solid ground, floating around meaninglessly in air–"

"why are you talking with me then?"

interrupted, gojo blinks. once, and twice, then thrice.

you watch your face crumple in the dark tint of his shades, withering and cracking in the dull light and stale air of this stupid supermarket; but definitely not as stupid as you:

messing things up when they're perfectly fine and alright, only 'cause you do not, rather cannot, keep your mouth shut, no matter what– all your inhibitions let gone of as your heart gains control over your brain and your stupid damned mouth—

you feel a tiny knock on your forehead, the second time this evening, followed by strands of hair being gently brushed away; too careful for your breath to not get stuck in your chest. you peer up at the man in front, teeth lightly gnawing the inside of your lower lip.

gojo's features shift into something between fond and worried– you just hope you aren't misreading him right now– the man tucks those strands of hair behind the shell of your ear.

his fingers still right above your jaw, touching yet not really touching, features finally, finally, settling into a smile– "maybe because i enjoy talking with you, cookie, no matter how foolish you are."

some people say, marriage is a holy act, a sacred institution, in and of itself— connecting hearts, binding souls– cementing the promises of staying together forever... whilst few see marriage to be meaningless— paltry affair of papers and signatures and people, none bearing any significance, 'cause nothing can, not when it comes to the matters of the hearts, neither in proving nor in disproving them–

no matter what people think, you think you will be okay, irrespective of whether you marry gojo or not, irrespective of whether gojo loves you or not– provided– and this is a weird, still important 'provided'—

you and he end up shopping together in the supermarket, feeling and seeming so happy and comfortable with each other— others mistake you for a pair of newlyweds, blissfully deep in love.

tysm to my dearest andy [@andysdrafts], mimi [@avatarofstars] & dilay [@roseqzpd] for constantly motivating me while i was writing this. ilysm my darlings 😘😘😘

masterlist

Why Can't I Keep My Fingers Off You? - G.S.

Synopsis. There were two things missing in the scene in front of you: 1. The aphrodisiac chocolate your friends had given as a gag gift last Christmas that had been hidden away in the back of your refrigerator. 2. Your dear fiancé.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected sex, Satoru’s blindfold gets used, overstimulation (male + female), lots of cum, aphrodisiac sex, multiple rounds, making Gojo Satoru cum in his pants, breaking the bed, mating press, pet names (my girl), swearing.

Word count. 3.0k

A/N. Can you tell it’s ovulation week. Art by @_3em on X.

Ah~ It’s the 21st century, they should really make these curses self-exorcizing. 

It’s been a long day of dealing with countless curses and five droning clan meetings (all of which he missed, oops). Now, Satoru loiters around your shared penthouse apartment - waiting for you to come back home from work.

Hmm, maybe he’ll quickly drop by and see what the first years are up to? He probably didn’t have a class right now. 

But first, Satoru grins, opening the refrigerator to grab at the secret stash of sweets all the way in the back - something sweet.

---

It was odd to step into a tense silence suffocating your home - usually used to being met with whines of “how dare you take so long!” and “you won’t believe what that emo kid did today.” as soon as you walked in through the door.

Was Satoru running late on a mission today?  

It wasn’t surprising, the man had to be everywhere - it’s not like he always has the time to teleport and welcome you home. Yet, you still couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was off as you made your way into the kitchen.

Cursing whoever invented the work week, the cold air of the refrigerator hits you as you open it to grab a drink, wondering when your fiancé will be home.

Wait.

Tired brain distinctly noting the lack of that familiar flash of hot pink, you double-take as you glare at the back of the refrigerator - as if willing it to materialize in front of you. Where was that?

“That” being the gag gift your friends had given you last Christmas to playful wolf whistles. Some large slab of “aphrodisiac chocolate” - probably normal chocolate - that you’d skeptically thrown in with your secret candy stash for a rainy day. 

Satoru had ransacked your goods again, you sigh. But if he was home…then where was he?

“Toru? Are you home?” you call out in confusion, only to be met with a deafening silence. 

Concern etched on your face, you set the drink down to look for Satoru, footsteps thumping against the hardwood floors at each tense step. 

Approaching the bedroom, a low, unmistakable moan filters through the heavy door. Satoru.

Heartbeat racing and worry coursing through you, you cautiously push the door open - only to be met with a sight that makes your heart stop.

There, sprawled across your bed in just his boxers, a delicate flush spread enticingly along his sculpted body, was your Satoru. 

Something about this scene felt more than a simple evening nap. The air was heady and thick with something. Maybe it was that familiar hot pink wrapper lying empty at the foot of the bed. Maybe it was the way Satoru’s usually vibrant eyes were half-lidded, curtained by his tousled hair. 

Or maybe it was his hand squeezing the large outline of his achingly hard cock through his boxers. Circling the dark spot around his leaking tip. Massaging his heavy balls. Teasing. 

“You’re home‘ he rasps out, voice strangled and snapping you out of your trance. 

“Wha- yes. Toru, what happened?” you sputter out, eyes locked on the way his cock twitched animalistically at the sound of your voice.

In the blink of an eye, Satoru’s gotten up from the bed, muscled arms caging you against the wall. His rock-hard erection presses into your front, precum smearing through his boxers against your work clothes.

“You’re home.” he repeats, sounding as strained as if he were about to snap any second. Losing his sanity with each breath that fans your hair.

You could feel the pulsing of your cunt as your eyes flit from the sheen of sweat decorating his body to the blindfold haphazardly hanging off his neck. Satoru finally raises his eyes to look at you.

Oh, he’s already lost his sanity.

Pupils blown, those blue eyes you love now a lustful black - a predatory glint in them that made a carnal part of your cunt twitch. His mouth spreads into a wolfish grin, teeth bared as if ready to eat you up. 

A shiver runs down your spine.

“Toru…you okay?”

“You’re home.” he breathes out, as if a prayer. 

“Satoru.”

The simple call of his name sealed your fate.

The buttons hit the ground before you realize what he’s doing. Ripping your shirt off, pulling off your bra, fisting your clothes in his hands as if it killed him to see you clothed. 

Too impatient - too starved - to remove your skirt, he pulls it to shreds off your hips.

“Woah- slow down there.” you squeal as he drops to Satoru knees, biting down on the thin fabric of your soaked panties, tugging with his teeth. You know he’ll buy you ten more to replace what he’s torn, but jeez where was the decorum?

“Can’t” he slurs, peeking up at you with dazed eyes. Was your Satoru even here with you?

“What?” 

“Can’t stop.” he murmurs lowly, voice sending vibrations to your twitching cunt. 

And before you know it, sharp teeth bite around your panties, ripping them to shreds. Looking up at you with hooded eyes, miles away, grinning devilishly around the soaked fabric in his mouth. 

Shit, what have you gotten yourself into.

Despite your thobbing pussy, you soothe “Now, Toru. Why don’t we just-”

“Shut up.” he mutters. And he does - words catching in your throat as Satoru dives nose-deep into your dripping cunt. Hot tongue urgently lapping at your juices, as if a man dying of thirst..

Nose rubbing your pulsing clit in rough circles, he breathes you in so sinfully, letting out a throaty groan as he does. He bullies his tongue past your dripping folds, stretching you, dipping in and out of your quivering entrance. Over and over. In and out.

You were losing your mind with each rough push of Satoru’s warm tongue. Dizzying pace forcing lewd whimpers out of your mouth that mix with the squelches of his mouth on your pussy. 

You buck your hips desperately into his face, and amidst his merciless abuse on your cunt, you barely notice the way he presses his body against yours. 

Shit, so this is why he’s so fucking feral - Satoru’s cock was painfully hard, swollen and throbbing against your leg. Fuck- you weren’t gonna be able to walk for a while.

He grind his hips into you, precum soaking your bare legs. With a low whimper at the back of his throat, Satoru’s tongue fucks you in a way you knew he wanted to with his cock right now. Rough and unrelenting.

Maybe it’s the harsh abuse of his mouth on your swollen lips, nose catching on your clit just right. Or maybe it’s the feeling of your slick dripping down the corners of his mouth, onto your thighs and mixing with the precum of his aching erection. 

Before you can even register it, you’re cumming all over Satoru’s mouth, grip tight on his white locks and hips riding his pretty face.

Greedily lapping at your quivering cunt, he moans as his eyes roll to the back of his head at the sweet juices pooling around his tongue. 

In the back of your mind, you recognize the feeling of Satoru’s warm cum smearing against your leg. Did- Did Gojo Satoru just come in his underwear while eating you out?

Sinfully, he licks at the mixture of your juices dripping down your legs, eyes closed as if tasting a delicacy. He was going to be the death of you.

As soon as your high bates, Satoru stands to his full height. Towering above you with eyes that looked like he wanted to positively eat you alive.

“T-Toru…are you okay?” 

But your fiancé stays silent, throbbing erection still straining painfully against his wet boxers as he shoves you against the cold wall. Rough hands on your hips, presenting your dripping cunt to him and arching you to his will.

A large hand smacks the wall beside your head, plaster crumbling under his strength. Shit, if he keeps going at this pace then nothing in the house will survive Satoru - including you. 

You feel the cum-soaked fabric of his boxers grinding against your ass, his hands pulling and groping every bit of skin he can reach.

“Toru, take it off.” you whine out, words dripping in lust.

You don’t need to tell Satoru twice. With grace that he wouldn’t give your clothes, his boxers are on the ground, painfully hard cock hitting his abs. 

You can feel the slick dripping down your legs as you look behind your shoulder to see one hand wrapped tightly around his large cock. Pulling in slow, languid motions up to the furiously flushed tip. His heavy balls twitch as he thumbs the prominent vein along the side.

“I want-”

You can’t even finish your sentence before Satoru’s bullying his massive cock into your snug cunt. Plush walls desperately trying to adjust to his size as he sheaths himself in your hot core. 

You moan at the delicious stretch of your pussy. It’s not like you haven’t done this before - yet, where Satoru was usually suave in sex, right now it was replaced by pure, feral need. With his tip kissing your cervix as he pushed animalistically into your cunt - you didn’t know if you’d make it out alive. 

“Hah- Toru it’s too big. Ah! I can’t-.”

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed. 

Satoru presses into you inch by fucking inch, groaning at the tight ring of muscles trying to both push him out and suck him in desperately. It was so animalistic.

It seems Satoru’s body moves before his mind, hips fucking into your dripping pussy recklessly. Harsh thrusts, not even pulling all the way out to ram into you as he usually does - as if he can’t bear to part with your wet core. His balls sting your cunt as they smack against you at his unforgiving pace, strings of slick and cum connecting him to you.

“Ah- So good f’me, my girl. Always- so good.” he gasps out at the heavenly feeling of your dripping cunt sucking him back in at each thrust. “Hngh! Mmm more. I need more. Need it so bad.”

Hands arching your back into him now grope the expanse of your skin, before wrapping around your body to lift you off the floor. 

“Ah! Toru, what- hngh-” you choke on your words at the new angle. 

Satoru’s body bows into you, cock still slamming inside you at a feral pace midair. Not even a hair’s breadth between your bodies. 

With one hand he forces you to look up at him, capturing your lips with his in a searing kiss. Pretty mouth sucking your tongue as he did with your cunt.

If you were in a better state of mind, you’d notice the slight glow tinging his lustful eyes. The electricity thrumming through his fingers. Yet you already knew - Satoru was absolutely losing it.

Your feet dangle off the ground as he holds you securely, length reaching impossibly deeper inside you. Prominent vein grazing that one spot over and over.

“Hngh- Oh my god, Toru. S’too much!” you pull away to whine. 

“Open your mouth.” he murmurs raspily. As if body on auto-pilot, your mouth opens, tongue lolling out for what he was about to give.

Satoru’s stream of spit is warm on your tongue, making you clench around his merciless cock. He lets out a drawn-out groan, eyes boring down at you, holding a glint of the same insanity he has when he exorcizes curses, “My nasty girl. Can’t get enough of you.”

You moan at his words, hands reaching behind you to grab on the blindfold dangling on his neck. “Toru more-” you gasp out, your tight grip causing him to bow his head with a groan, cock twitching ferally. 

“Fuck! More? You fucking want more?” he groans out, voice wrecked with pleasure. 

You let out a yelp as his teeth dig into your neck - hard enough that you were sure you’d have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up. Yet, your grip on his blindfold never waves, pulling him closer as he fucks roughly into your snug cunt. 

Ass burning at the friction of his pelvis. Pussy dripping onto your bedroom floor. Unforgiving. Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. “Ah! Toru s’good.” 

You both cum with strangled gasps. A low keen at the back of Satoru’s throat, and he’s pumping hot ropes of cum into your awaiting pussy. Tears stinging your eyes at your sensitivity, all you know is a wave of pleasure as you ride out your climax on the ramming of his hips and the how full you are of his seed.

His hand still draws hurried, desperate circles on your clit. You squeal at the overstimulation, tears clinging to yours lashes. “Toru- hngh!” you can barely get out the words, his hips slamming into yours mercilessly as Satoru milks his cock desperately on your quivering pussy. 

“Shut up. You said you wanted more. You’re gonna get more, my little slut.” he mutters carnally.

Ah, you can’t do this. You were going to fucking pass out.

“One- more.” he moans.

Your thighs clench around him, pushing your plush walls deeper as he lets out raspy whimpers with each thrust. “Hah- hngh.” 

“Shit- Toru I’m-” Your climax hits you with a jolt, body twitching in pain and pleasure from the oversensitivity as your cunt flutters around his cock - not even being able to tell when Satoru’s orgasm ends and when yours starts. 

You feel a tear hit your shoulder, overstimulation too much for his poor cock as his seed coats your walls once more. It drips out of you, forming a pool on the floor as he pulls out - for only a second before you’re thrown on the bed. 

Orgasm-hazed brain barely having time to register what is happening before Satoru stalks towards you from the foot of the bed. Unhurriedly approaching you as you scoot towards the headboard.

Your pussy jumps exhaustedly at the sight of him - eyes darkened and narrowed at you like a predator that has spotted his prey. A devilish smirk stretches across his swollen lips, glossed prettily with spit and slick. 

Toru, I-I don’-” you words slur out. 

“One- one more, my girl. Please.” Satoru whimpers, throat shot from what transpired just before. His cock twitches, glistening with cum and slick, dripping onto the fresh bedsheets. 

As he looms closer, you wonder how the fuck Satoru was still holding up - was this all because of the chocolate? You have half the mind to wonder whether he was using reversed cursed technique to keep you both alive.

You mewl deliriously at the feeling of your legs being thrown on his shoulders. Eyes blown and face flushed your favorite shade of pink, he licks a long stripe up your ankles, voice cracking as he moans sinfully. 

Satoru’s flushed tip teases your entrance, dragging along your swollen folds. Fuck. Shit. Maybe you wouldn’t even mind dying if it was with his cock rammed in your snug cunt.

Barely even lucid, he thrusts harshly into you - your tight entrance readily sucking up his flushed tip. You both hiss at the sensitivity. Surely, one of you was going to pass out. 

Hand moving to grasp the blindfold around his neck, you pull him to you. Your hamstrings burn in protest as Satoru bends down to attach his lips with yours, moving down until you were folded in half. 

Tongue tangling with yours, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, fiery with an intensity that made you unsure if either of you would make it out of this alive. 

Heartbeat roaring in your ears, you don’t notice the crack! of the bed and neither does Satoru. Too caught up in desperately reaching whatever number orgasm it was this night. 

Moans incoherent, your body convulses, nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back as the bed creaks in protest. A strangled groan leaves his mouth, cock throbbing inside you - or maybe that was your quivering cunt. At this point you really didn’t know anymore. 

“Shit- ah! Fuck. I’m- M’cumming. M’cumming. Hngh- cumming!” he whines out, voice ragged and breathing unstable. Delicate tears streak down his face, dripping onto your quivering body below him. Salty.

You can only let out exhausted whines, too fucked out to form any proper sentences.

Hot seed gushing inside you again, it overflows out of you, cunt dripping and too full to take anymore. Yet, Satoru still fucks into you until he sees stars and his poor cock is cumming dry. You can barely even feel your climax, distant tingles and the only thing on your mind being Satoru Satoru Satoru. 

The air leaves your lungs as he collapses on top of you. Skin flushed and sticking to yours. Body twitching as his poor cock neverendingly shoots blanks inside of you. Which number was this even?

That’s when you black out.

Floating in and out of dreams of blue, blue skies and mini Satorus running around, you wake up with a start. Well, as much of a start as you could with your entire body aching as if you got run over by a truck - and then an entire zoo after.

Bleary eyes taking in your surroundings, you distinctly realize that you’re spread out on the living room couch. 

What happened.

“Hey, you okay?” a hoarse voice sounds from beside you. You could barely recognize it as your fiancé’s, words jagged from…whatever it was before.

“You…are you okay?” you rasp out, raising a brow exhaustedly. Satoru chuckles sheepishly, tenderly smoothing over the blanket placed on top of you. What a change from before - are you sure this is the same guy?

“Well…the wall is crumbling, we broke the bed, and I’m pretty sure my dick won’t work again for the next couple years.” he gets out in one breath. At your silence, he continues “And I think my favorite blindfold is out of commission.”

“...wow.”

“Wow.” 

“You lecher, you ate from my secret stash, didn’t you?”

“...”

A few days later, opening the refrigerator, you’re met with a wall of hot pink. A sticky note on top reading in Satoru’s hasty scrawl, “This time you take one too :D”

A/N. Wrote this while watching The Garfield Show.

Plagiarism not authorized.

FANTASIZE — 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. gojo satoru

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ having sexual fantasies about your landlord seems illegal, but what can you do when it’s gojo satoru?

⌗contents ⤥ fem!reader, she/her pronouns, explicit language used, landlord!gojo, no curses au, gojo and reader are in their 20’s (range not specified), masturbation (gojo catches you), pussy hungry gojo, oral, unprotected p in v sex, orgasms, creampie, deep penetration, pet names, not proofread

⌗wordcount ⤥ 4.7k

⌗notes ⤥ i literally thought abt this while on the toilet

finally, after a long and exhausting shift, you finally arrived back home. you were standing outside of the gates that lead into the apartment complexes, showing the security guard your identification before being allowed inside. you were tired and hungry, thinking about what to cook once you got into your home.

just as you’re reaching your apartment complex, you pass through the play area built for the children, and you notice a tall, white-haired man standing by a bench while a young child is running around with another on the playground. your heart stops when you realize it’s your landlord, gojo satoru.

while he was on the phone, you notice another man sitting on the bench, his dark hair nearly blending in with the night. you gulped, hoping to walk by without getting caught by either of them. why? because— you haven’t paid your last months rent.

you promised satoru you’d pay, but the next rent payment was due in a week and you hadn’t even sent him money. satoru didn’t bother with it during the first two weeks, however— he became impatient and was slowly demanding you pay the rent. even the co-landlord, suguru, was reminding you but rather, in a more gentle manner.

as you quietly passed by, one of the children spotted your presence. “oh! miss [name]!” the young megumi shouts out, putting the unwanted attention onto you.

oh… megumi, why?! you cursed mentally at yourself and made a quick hesitating expression before forcing a sweet smile and turning around. by that time, megumi and the other child, yuji, had jumped off the playground to greet you. they both approached you with their cute giggles, each hugging one of your legs. “megumi, yuji! what are you guys doing out here?”

“gojo and geto-san let us play outside for a little bit!” megumi answers when looking up at you. nodding, you glance at the two other men, who were deliberately surveying you— especially satoru. you clear your throat and look down at the two kids again.

“can we come to your house on saturday, miss [name]? i wanna bake cookies and watch pokemon again!” yuji questions, jumping up and down slightly.

“o-of course.. just make sure you guys get permission from your dad’s!” you reply, maintaining your smile as they pushed themselves off your legs. “i have to get home super quick now, ‘kay? just let me know by tomorrow.”

“okay, miss [name]!” they both cheered happily at the same time before scurrying back to the two men.

therefore, you took that as an opportunity to leave quickly and back to your apartment. when you arrived, you quickly unlocked the door and entered, nearly sinking to the ground. a smile slowly crept on your face and you slipped off your shoes before walking further into your home.

you glanced at the ground, noticing your broken vase was still scattered to pieces. you sigh, remembering your purse accidentally knocked it over and since you were rushing to work, you decided to clean it up once you got home. grabbing a broom from the kitchen, you swept it to the side by the wall, figuring you would gather it into the trash later.

after changing into something more comfortable, you went to brush your teeth and get ready for the night. a smile was still on your face, and well, the reason was simply because of satoru.

three months ago, you were apartment hunting after saving so much money— one of your work friends suggested you to tour an apartment from a landlord named gojo satoru.

the apartments he owned were absolutely marvelous and in your price range. but what even tempted you to sign rental agreement was satoru himself. he was someone everyone wanted: he had handsome features, a perfect build, an alluring voice, and most all, earned loads of money. to others, it was obvious that you had a huge interest in him, but it’s gotten to the point where you began developing feelings— way too much feelings. so much that you began fantasizing about him everyday.

it started off as fantasizing going on romantic dates with him— eventually to getting married, having kids, being the mom to little megumi. eventually leading to fantasizing you underneath him, holding him as he fucks into you. most would think it was absurd— to be obsessing over your own landlord who dislikes you at the moment.

but you liked the attention you were receiving from satoru. you two interacted many times before, but that’s mostly because of megumi. the child often ran into you, eventually getting close enough to where satoru allowed him to go to your house to bake cookies or for you to babysit. however, when you missed your first rent, satoru had came to your place— which, caught you by surprise, you thought he’d bring megumi but he was all by himself.

therefore, you intentionally pretended to forget to pay your rent, even though you did actually have the money to pay. of course, you were going to pay eventually, just so you don’t lose your apartment, but you were keeping up the act due to satoru’s appearances nearly everyday— demanding you to pay your rent. he’s gotten slightly aggressive over the past two weeks, but it never necessarily bothered you.

you pretend to avoid him, while still try to be around him. it was weird, maybe, but when you have a crush on someone, you usually end up doing things you don’t normally find yourself doing.

after getting into bed, you relaxed and got comfortable— but you feel as if you needed something else to cool your mind: thinking about satoru.

you felt lazy to grab one of your vibrators, so you decided to use your hands, imagining as if it was satoru’s instead.

“gojo, gojo, can i pleaseeee go to miss [name]’s house on saturday? pleaseeee,” megumi was whining to satoru repeatedly as they were heading back to their home. after saying their good nights to yuji and suguru, megumi just couldn’t shut up about you.

satoru was helping megumi get ready for bed, but the kid just couldn’t sleep until he said yes. and if satoru didn’t say much less of a no, or a simple no, megumi would throw a tantrum. satoru honestly didn’t know how to calm the child down whenever that occurs, so he makes sure to answer properly.

“maybe if she pays her rent, you can go,” satoru smiles at the kid, realizing his words slipped out without care.

“she did pay it! you just don’t check!” megumi pouts.

“oh megs, please just go to sleep. i’ll think about it tonight,” satoru replies with a sigh as he stands from kneeling beside of the bed and walks towards the door.

“nooo!! i wanna go, please!!” megumi begs, nearly crying at this point.

“gosh.. why are you so stubborn at this age,” satoru shakes his head as he was about to walk out. “fine, fine! you can go! just go to sleep, it’s late and if you don’t wake up in time tomorrow, you will not go, understand?”

suddenly, little megumi’s demeanor changed completely. he was now bubbly, smiling like crazy before getting comfortable underneath his blanket. “thank you, gojo! can you please go tell her that you said yes! i will tell yuji tomorrow, i’m so excited!” and without anything else, megumi was able to fall into a slumber.

satoru sighs yet again, shutting off the lights of megumi’s room before closing the door. honestly, he didn’t know what to do anymore, but he was glad megumi found company in someone else other than him— not that he does. satoru decides to flip through files, rental agreement files.

and of course, he stumbles upon yours. along with the papers that wrote payment overdue. satoru was pissed, to say the least.

satoru was lenient the first time, almost to the point of considering to not have you pay the rent— because, well, he also has an interest in you. his feelings began developing the day you both encountered, and he remembers trying so hard to get you to like the apartment. you both exchanged contacts that day once you signed the rental agreement, but it was nothing more than that. it initially surprised him when megumi asked to go to your place the first time, he hadn’t known then that you two were slowly becoming close as you’re adjusting to the new environment. but he shortly felt as if this was an opportunity for him to get closer with you.

now, they’re are definitely times satoru wanted to straight up say he had a fat crush on you, keeping it behind his mouth felt as if he was in high school again— however, he just couldn’t get the courage. he didn’t understand why, and most of the time, megumi would be cutting him off and grabbing your attention.

a few weeks ago, satoru was coming home with megumi, after picking him up from school. carrying the kid on his shoulders, megumi was saying this and that about wanting to visit your place. satoru was going to say yes, until: he detected you with someone else.

and that someone else ended up being suguru.

you both were chatting casually, it seemed you had also returned from work and stopped by to chat with suguru while little yuji was running around the playground with another child. watching at how you two interacted triggered satoru— the way you two smiled and laughed together, the way you tapped his arm when he said something that made you laugh. suguru was much bigger than he was, and definitely had more of the ladies’ attention.

however, in hindsight, satoru mistook your gestures and friendliness towards suguru as having feelings for him instead.

therefore, satoru suddenly became harsher towards you— but only because he was jealous of suguru and believing you liked him instead. even though his best friend didn’t show any display of affection towards you, satoru remembered the first impression you gave to suguru: “she’s pretty,” he complimented, but nothing else.

honestly, satoru felt quite immature to act like this. you weren’t even his girlfriend and even if you did like suguru, there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

satoru walked to his room, feeling utterly exhausted but still reached for his coat. as megumi wanted, he was going to deliver the message about him being allowed to go to your house on saturday to you, as well as remind you again about the rent.

the walk took no less than five minutes, though satoru often paused his steps or made circles because he felt anxious seeing you. of course, earlier he did see you when the kids were greeting you, but you barely even looked at him: at least, that’s what he perceived.

and when satoru approached the front of your door, he began anticipating as he hesitantly raises his hand to knock on the door. he leans back slightly, biting his lower lips as he thinks about what to say once you open the door. ‘hey, just wanted to say that megumi can—’ no, that wasn’t a good idea, he thought. ‘it’s time to pay your rent—’ well, not that either.

satoru shook his head, trying to surpass the feelings of nervousness before knocking on the door. and well, he must’ve knocked way too hard since the door cracked open. he stood there puzzled, and for a moment, he thought you were already on the other side. but realizing it was silent, he pushed the door open.

the first thing satoru noticed was the broken vase on the floor, causing his eyes to widen. did someone break in? is someone threatening her, is that why she can’t pay rent? dozens of thoughts were processing through his head as he enters further into your apartment, swallowing hard as more anxiety crawled up his back.

“[name]?” satoru calls out, and when you didn’t answer, he panicked even more. were you hurt? did something else happen here that he couldn’t grasp? satoru knew you lived alone, often inviting several friends or family members over but there was never anyone who looked threatening or intimidating to cause harm.

your apartment was clean, even though there were boxes and other things stuffed in corners and shelves, and there were no signs of any other damage aside from the broken vase. pulling out his phone, he readied to dial anyone. satoru was approaching your room at that point, bottled in his own thoughts as he looked around— he stands ahead of your bedroom door, realizing it was slightly cracked open, enough to where you can see the bed.

however, what satoru’s eyes laid upon was something unexpected.

the sight of you lying back on your bed, thighs spread open with your panties and underwear pushed down to your ankles, soft moans circulating the room caused blood to rush quick to satoru’s dick. while you were in your own world, satoru had been worried that something terrible might’ve happened to you. but you were just.. masturbating?

“f-fuck.. satoru..”

satoru’s eyes widened more when he hears you call out his name, causing his heart to thump and cheeks to burn red. were you imagining him right now? were you thinking about him touching you like that? the tightness of satoru’s pants began to poke out, throbbing nearly in pain as he watches you pleasure yourself because of him.

“need you to fuck me.. please..” your pleas and whines reached satoru’s ears like a melody, and he swore he could cum just by the sound of your pretty voice.

was this how you sounded like? was this how you moaned his name? it was driving satoru mad, making him want to push that door open and fuck you just like how you wanted. but, he felt like a creep— just standing there and watching.

satoru continued to watch you pleasure yourself before getting lost in his own thoughts, not remembering his phone in his other hand and dropping it to the ground. the loud thud causes the two of you to snap back into reality— sending you into an alert state and satoru into a panicked one. he cursed himself under his breath as he tries picking up his phone to quickly scatter out, but by now, you were already by the door.

“who’s there—?!” you nearly shouted, ready to attack and defend yourself against the person. but you were caught by surprise when you made eye contact with satoru.

the room became silent, as you both awkwardly stood and stared at each other for who knows how long. the embarrassment immediately got back to you, causing your face to burn and you could barely even formulate a proper response as satoru rubs the back of his neck.

“g-gojo…” you anxiously let out, averting your gaze in another direction. you could barely look him in the eyes.

“i didn’t mean to watch- or, i mean disturb you. i came at a wrong time, i’m sorry,” satoru slips out the response, also looking elsewhere while glancing back at you several times.

“you were watching..?” your face shoots up and satoru’s face nearly went pale.

“i- i just wanted to let you know that megumi is allowed to come over saturday, he wanted me to deliver the message!” satoru switches the topic as you avoid eye contact with him again.

“oh… i see,” you reply. the atmosphere was severely awkward, and you both didn’t know what to exactly or utter. “guess—”

“need help?” he blurts, eyes lowering back to you.

“help?” your eyes remain wide in shock and you can feel your heart pulsate quicker, nearly making your legs weak. you try to avoid gazes with him, but satoru reaches for your wrist just to get your attention.

satoru can feel his dick throb knowing that your needy pussy was underneath those tight shorts of yours, being forced to act normal when rubbing your thighs together out of embarrassment. he only imagines how wet you are— no, to feel how wet you are, to really know what kind of filthy girl you are. it was turning him on, and it was obvious from the bulge in his pants.

“i mean, from the way you were moaning my name, i figured you did,” satoru replies in a hushed tone, sending chills down your spine.

the moment was cut short when satoru leans in to kiss you, shocking you even more, but you instantly melted into his lips. you kissing him back with immense passion drove satoru insane, now that he figured out he had been the one all this time. he pushes his tongue pass your lips and into your mouth, hungrily searching for your tongue. you both share several soft groans before satoru grinds himself against you, allowing you to feel his erected dick.

“feel that?” satoru whispers when he leaned his head back to catch a quick breath, only receiving a small nod from you. “‘m so fucking hard, just because of you. gonna do something about that?”

“mhm.. of course..” you shyly replied, looking up at him with those nubile eyes.

you eventually find yourself on top of satoru, completely undressed aside from your soaked panties. you were facing his hard cock that was still being suffocated underneath his pants, meanwhile, satoru was beginning to tease your clothed clit with his middle finger. it made you whine, since you haven’t felt another’s touch in so long.

satoru pushes the material of your underwear to the side, getting a good view at your soaking cunt just dying to have someone’s cock drilled inside. “so pretty ‘nd perfect,” he whispers, his breath softly blowing against your clit.

“o-oh.. satoru,” you moan, feeling his tongue lap over your slit.

satoru circles his tongue around your clit, sucking it several times before working around your wet folds and pushing slightly pass them into your sopping cunt. you can feel ecstasy pump throughout your entire body, all just from his tongue.

“fuck.. your tongue- feels s’good..” you utter through your soft moans. “always fantasized you eating my pussy out like this.. a-ah..”

“yeah?” satoru hums, bringing a finger to rub circles on your clit while his tongue messily explored your cunt, licking and slurping all of your arousal that gradually coated down to his chin. your words dumped roughly on him, making his dick throb. “fucking hell. suck me off too, angel. need to feel your mouth around me.”

you push satoru’s pants down, along with his boxers that immediately causes his cock to spring out. you hold a breath as you take his length into your hand, watching as his pre-cum leaked out. you start with a lick around his tip, gathering the pre-cum on your tongue and earning a soft grunt against your pussy from him.

pushing your head down, you begin winding your tongue around his girth, sucking several times while pumping the rest with your hand. satoru’s cock twitches several times, nearly becoming sensitive under your touch and warm mouth. he proceeds to fuck your pussy with his tongue, thumbing your clit that causes your moans to vibrate around him.

“mm- ‘toru-”

“hush, baby. ‘ts okay, don’t want ya to choke. unless you like that,” satoru whispers, sinking his tongue into your pussy again, trying to slurp up all of your wetness. his nose easily brushes against your aching hole, sending you waves of pleasure.

you push satoru’s cock further into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, trying to maintain a pace. you could barely focus due to satoru’s tongue lapping your vulva and folds, inching into your cunt as if he’s marking as his territory. the tip of his cock softly slams against your throat, slowly pooling your eyes with tears.

“don’t forget to breathe, baby. oh fuck- keep sucking my cock like that- mhm- good girl,” satoru praises, grunting as he feels your mouth taking almost all of him. you could barely even handle it, yet you’re trying so hard— it was amusing, in a cute way.

your muffled moans sync with the sloppy sounds of your cunt being lavished with satoru’s tongue, the pad of his fingers rubbing your clit faster and causing you to reach an orgasm. grinding your hips slowly on satoru’s face was enough to tell him that, and he uses his other hand to slap the fat of your ass, eventually gripping it.

“gonna cum, baby. s-shit, in your mouth?” satoru glances at you, noticing you were bobbing your head as a response.

when satoru’s warm cum shoots into the back of your throat, it causes you to orgasm at the same time. your legs twitch from the sensations, but capturing his load was the main thing occupying your mind. you’d never thought you’d be situated with satoru like this— it’s just as if your fantasies are becoming a reality.

swallowing his cum, you push your head away and inhale several breaths while coughing lightly. shortly enough, you feel satoru pulling you back against him and turning your head. after sharing a long and sloppy kiss, he pins you on the mattress, spreading your thighs apart so that he’s in between them.

from what you could see, he was still hard. very hard. his aching tip was pressed against your entrance, teasing your clit and making you whimper. glancing up at him, you could see his flushed face— full of energy, arousal, and passion.

“d-do we need lube?” you innocently inquired, which choked a soft chuckle from satoru.

“not at all, baby. you’re so wet. feel that? feel how wet you are?” satoru hums when he guides his tip along your wet entrance, hoping it’d be an enough of a satisfying answer. you only nod, giving satoru a look and he reassures you with another kiss. “i’m gonna put it in now. tell me if it hurts, ‘kay?”

“‘kay..” you nod, biting your lower lips.

satoru groans as he inserts his cock past your folds, pushing your walls apart that clenches around him each time he inched deeper. you gasped as both hands went around his biceps and your fingers press into the skin, notably marking the area. your walls fluttered around him, accepting his thick and hard cock so earnestly.

“feel okay, love?” satoru questions, glancing down at you.

“mhm.. i’m okay, ‘toru..” you reply, indicating for him to move.

satoru slowly begins to move his hips, groaning at the feeling of your pussy when his cock slips in and out. for you, his cock was already kissing your most sensitive places that had moans fall from your mouth constantly. satoru gropes one your breast, pinching the nipple with two fingers as he nudges your deepest parts.

“f-fuck! satoru- your cock feels soso good-” you cry out when his pace fastens, nearly having your eyes roll back.

so, this is how her pussy feels like? satoru was lost in his own mind, lost in the feeling of your pussy. he was already addicted, wanting to be inside you forever and be able to dump his cum into you. to him, you’re perfect: everything about you is. he loved the feeling of your soft and delicate skin rubbing against his own, aside from your pussy kissing around his cock.

“you fantasize about this too, angel? fantasize about my cock fucking into your pussy like this?” satoru huffs as his thrusts initially became quicker— rougher, nearly filling you entirely up.

“yes! yes, ‘toru. always fantasizing about it.. about you- ngh..”

you could feel a knot slowly forming in your core as his cock continues to stimulate pleasure to your pussy. you could care less about the neighbor’s ears, knowing that another tenant’s room was on the other side of your headboard. as of right now, your landlord was fucking you, just like how you’ve always imagined about. the fact turned you on even more.

satoru groans, now pounding his cock into you, deep to the point it’s kissing your womb. the sound of skin slapping circulating the air along with your moans, making the room scream perfect sex. satoru presses a finger against your lips, signaling you to lower your voice when loud knocks on the wall is heard, telling you both to shut up. but how could you?

“i can’t- ‘toru. feels so good- ‘ts too much-” you cry out, bringing his finger into your mouth and swirling your tongue over.

“naughty girl. you really want to get a noise complaint, don’t you?” satoru chuckles, before throwing both of your legs over his shoulders. well, since he’s the landlord he could just dismiss the complaint whenever it came through.

“want them to know- how good you fuck me.”

and how could satoru deny such request? wrapping his hands around your thighs and pushing them against his chest, he pummels his cock deeper into you, getting screams out of your mouth. your breasts bounced each thrust, matching the gentle slams of the headboard ramming into the wall.

the angle of the position allowed satoru’s cock to perfectly grind against your g-spot, which is already sending you towards your next orgasm. his balls slaps against your vulva as he penetrates his cock deeper and deeper, feeling your walls clench around him each time.

you don’t know how long it’s been until you’re on your knees and hands, ass in the air as satoru fucks you from behind after another orgasm. gripping onto the sheets, you repeatedly cry out his name, just to feel his dick twitch inside of you.

“you’re such a perfect girl, you know that?” satoru proceeds to blurt out compliments, caressing your skin and pressing soft kisses on your shoulder blades to your neck. right now, he was just grateful that it’s him— that he is the one able to do this with you.

“sa-satoru— ngh- i’m cumming-”

satoru was close to cumming too. he wanted to dump his next cum load into you, stuff you up to the brim and feel you milk him dry. “cum on my cock, baby. c’mon,” he encourages, pushing your hips back with both of his hands as you reach your climax.

“cum in me, ‘toru! pleasee!” you cry out next, turning your head to make eye contact with him.

satoru’s eyes wide at the sight of your lewd expression, telling him to fill you up. and so he does. he does a final deep thrust, dumping his heavy and warm load all saved just for you. satoru feels your walls pulsate around him just before he slips his cock out.

from there, you both remain in silence once more, catching breaths before satoru collapses on top of you.

“three months..” satoru whispers against your ear, utterly confusing you.

“what?”

“i’ll give you three months free of rent, maybe more if you go on a date with me.”

“that’s not fair to the other tenants though.”

“they don’t have to know.”

you giggle, turning around so that you’re completely facing him. cupping his cheeks into your hand, you lean in to give him a kiss— a more subtle kiss. “alright then. a date is settled.”

as satoru entered his apartment, he was surprised to stumble upon— a rather, agitated suguru. arms crossed over his chest, it seemed as if satoru had done something to piss him off.

“sugu—”

“do you know how many times i’ve called you? 17 times! i even messaged you and you answered none of them!” suguru rambled and satoru easily noticed fumes erupting from his ears. “you should be grateful that megumi can take care of himself.. gosh, he’s only what? seven? i can’t believe you left him home alone. what if something bad happened?”

“look— suguru—”

“ugh, whatever. i made sure megumi got to school safely with yuji. make sure you pick them up later and drop them off at [name]’s house, we have a meeting this evening,” suguru cuts satoru off again as he grabs his coat, not leaving any room for satoru to explain.

“suguru—”

“why do you look like you just..” suguru pauses once he got a good observation of satoru’s appearance. “did you drink last night?”

“wh— what? ABSOLUTELY not!” satoru defends himself.

“uh huh.. hurry up and get ready,” suguru dismisses it once more before leaving the apartment.

well, guess satoru didn’t really need an explanation after all.

LOAFGETO. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.

a/n: me after using the word cock

a/n: really short one based on that one scooby doo audio i keep hearing. the one with fred and daphne.

warnings: none other than the suggestive ending

imagine you, satoru, suguru and mei getting assigned to exorcise a curse at this “haunted house”. you guys arrived, and you didn’t expect it to be quite huge, so you decided it was better to split up.

“satoru, you and mei check upstairs. suguru and i will check the basement.” before you can say anything more, satoru leans over your shoulder and whispers “y/nnn…” your eyes widen, and you immediately know what he wants. “oh no, right, suguru, you and mei check upstairs. satoru and i’ll check the basement.” you flash an innocent smile at the two who just stare at you.

suguru narrows his eyes at the both of you and mutters “gross.” before turning away and walking upstairs. meanwhile, mei flashes you a smile, following suguru.

satoru presses you against the wall and kisses you with force. “satoru…” you pant, his lips trailing down your jaw towards your neck. “are y-you sure this is a g-good idea?” you hum as he sucks on a particular spot behind your ear. “i-it’s kinda creepy down h-here.” you look around the abandoned basement, dust and cobwebs all over. “it’s fine, baby," he says in between kisses. “don’t worry, your pretty little head.” his kisses trail even further down.

“i’ve got you," he says, his piercing blue eyes looking up at you as he’s on his knees, lifting your leg over his shoulder.

“when i let a day go by without talking to you that day is just no good.”

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

summary: you find love when you least expect.

notes/warnings: you’ve got daddy issues (oops). takes place in 2005 but there are no spoilers. nothing too graphic or sad. i just used one scene from himym.

wc: 677+ (i’m too lazy)

being alone came naturally to you; you came to this world alone, and you would die alone. it’s a harsh reality you learned to live with. that’s why you always push others away, never letting your guard down for anyone, never letting anyone get too close. you can chalk it up to the abandonment issues you had as a child, but the simple truth is that avoiding closeness makes it easier for you when they eventually leave. 

so you’d think it wouldn't be that hard not to fall in love, but he proved that impossible. you tried to stop yourself, tried to distance yourself, but everything he did made you fall further into that rabbit hole until there was no getting out.

the first time you ever felt something was when you were having a ‘breakdown’ on the stairs leading up to the dorms.  

“hey, what are you doing?” he asked, bending forward to look at your face. your eyes widened; you thought you were alone. you thought everyone else was on a mission, and there was no one in the school. so you couldn’t care less if you were crying at a public. “oh! i’m just getting some fresh air.” your voice cracked. damn it. he’s going to find out something’s wrong. “are you…okay?” he walked up next to you, but he didn’t sit on the stairs; he waited. for what? he waited for you to say okay. for you to invite him. for you to open up to him. you nodded your head, and he took that as a sign for him to take a seat next to you.

“so…you wanna talk?” he didn’t look at you; he looked far ahead. he knew you didn’t want to be seen, especially not in the current state you were in. you never wanted to be seen as weak, and that was something he admired about you. “it’s nothing really…” if it were nothing, you wouldn’t be seated here crying. “my dad cancelled on me. he…i just haven’t seen him in a long time, and we were supposed to get dinner tonight, but uh..." you paused, your voice breaking. “he texted me just now to cancel.” you felt so vulnerable right now and in front of satoru of all people.  

“it’s silly, but you know he could have called. instead of just...” you sighed, you had to stop talking, you had to stop the tears from falling. you didn’t expect for satoru to put his hand on top of yours, but then again, he did a lot of things you didn’t expect. “that’s not silly, and if you don’t mind me saying. you’re dad is a complete idiot for not calling you. he should never let a day go by without calling you.” you turn to look at him, but he’s already looking at you when you do. “because when i let a day go by without talking to you…um that day is just no good.” he’s still holding your hand, and you’re starting to think he won’t let go until you feel better.

so you sat there and stared at each other for what felt like hours. you didn’t realize it, but somehow you both had gotten a lot closer to each other than before. you couldn’t dare look away from his mesmerizing cerulean eyes. your noses almost touching until a small droplet of water fell down on your nose, another on your head, and another and another.

it started pouring, so satoru held your hand and pulled you towards the shade, both your clothes slightly damp. you looked up at him and down at his hand, still holding yours. ‘would you have kissed me if it hadn’t rained? ’ you question. he looks down at you for a moment. you didn’t know, but his mind was asking a similar question. ‘would you have let me?’ none of the questions were answered, though one thing was certain.

satoru had gotten under your skin.

not in an annoying kind of way. but in the kind of way that made you see him in a different light.

a/n: hi. this is my first time posting on here. i just miss writing and i have been feeling inspired lately (meaning: gojo has taken over my life). anyway, i’ll most probably post a part 2 since this is incomplete.

Fever | camboy! Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

synopsis: you manage a talented camboy, but your company wants you to do anything in order to make sure his stream is a success. Ugh, why is he so flirty all of the time? It's really starting to get to you.

wc: 4.6k

warnings: NSFW, MDNI, masturbating (live), strip tease, fake identity, blow job, cumming, hair pulling, facial, livestreaming blow job, slight choking

a/n: this is just something to get out there for my bbg Satoru while I work on some other things hehehe. I'm sorry if it's not the best I have a busy night and wanted to post something!

Things were going terrific at your job, in fact managing had never been easier. You tap the end of your pen against the hardwood table, watching the screen in front of you intensely. Pale fingers twist around the belt you’d picked for tonight’s show, pulling the dark leather free from the loops. Electric eyes glance into the camera and your incessant tapping halts. One shaky breath later and the figure on screen stands from his chair, undoing the button of his breaches. They fall off his hips, revealing a tight pair of black boxers. His sweater is thrown to the side next, your eyes following the lines of his muscles. The flushed pink of his nipple particularly catches your attention. A distracted hum rumbles through your throat as you lean back in your chair. 

He slides down into his chair, a black and gold mask covering the majority of his face. What a shame. Your eyes narrow as he glances at the chat, donations streaming in like a group of cats playing with a mouse. A smirk plays with the corners of your mouth as the air changes almost instantly. “Like what you see? Wachin’ me through that screen?” His eyes are trained on the camera. The tip of your pen rests against your bottom lip as you observe. Money floods in while many excited wealthy heirs comment on what he should do next. 

Tonight was just a strip tease, to get people excited for next week’s show. He clicks his tongue, scanning the comments with the ego of a beautiful person getting attention. It was well deserved, he had a knack for this whole selling himself thing. Luckily enough, you’d secured your position in managing his shows. 

You glance at your watch, raising a brow at how much time has already passed. You swipe at a button that signals for him to finish the show. His eyes deviate from the lens slightly, most likely noticing your message. A cocky head tilt and a slight raise of his brows later he’s wishing everyone a good night. Once the camera is off, there are still viewers fluttering around in the comment section with excitement. Well, excitement in more ways than one. 

The door across the room creaks open just as you’re shutting the laptop in front of you. The man that was just on screen now stands before you, now covered in a fuzzy black robe. He groans as he flops down on the sofa across from where you sat. “Good work tonight.” You mutter, clicking your pen closed. He huffs, letting his eyes slowly take in your figure. 

The intensity of his gaze makes you shift uncomfortably in your chair. “I didn’t do much,” His robe slips open slightly as he shifts into a more comfortable position. “M’looking forward to next week. They’re goin’ to go nuts.” He grins to himself. 

You nod in agreement, scrolling through some of the comments on your phone. “You have some big names wanting to see more. Keep up the good work.” You meet your reflection in the black screen of your phone. Your face is stern, almost cold. “Well,” you shove the device into your purse, lifting the corners of your mouth in a pleasant smile. “I’m headed home. See you tomorrow for our meeting, which you totally remembered is at 8?” 

His white fluffy hair almost sags as he curls his lips at the mention of an early morning meeting. “Yes ma’am.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. Your mouth ticks in an amused grin, but before he can look up your face goes back to the usual. 

“Goodnight Satoru.” You turn on your heel, reaching for the knob of his apartment door. The night air welcomes you with a melody of traffic and scents that make your stomach growl. 

Mornings were your favorite time to visit cafes. They always seemed to have the best windows that let in the warmth of the sun. You’d arrived earlier than planned with the objective of planning Satoru’s next show. Yet, here you are, basking away in the sun with your eyes shut. If someone passes by they might think you’re asleep – to be honest you wish you were. “Were you so bored without me that sleep was the only option?” Your eyes flutter open, everything a bit too bright for your liking after being in such a peaceful state. 

With the intent of shutting the door behind you, there’s an accidental connection between your eyes. Satoru stands, striding toward his door. He grabs the edge, taking it from your hand. “Goodnight YN, get home safe.”

Satoru stands in front of you, a loose black silken shirt hanging from his frame. He’d tucked the bottom into his fitted black jeans. Laced through the loops was the same belt as last night. Your throat suddenly feels dry as you motion for him to take a seat. He gracefully obliges, scooting the wooden chair under the table. You’re about to start some small talk when his knee brushes against yours. The words you were about to say were fleeing from your brain. You clear your throat, hopeful that it’ll clear your thoughts as well. 

His legs were long, that much was obvious from the sheer height of the man, standing at about 6’3 when he wasn’t slouching. It was slightly alarming to you as it occurs that you’ve seen how muscular his thighs are. Thick and a creamy pink color, untouched by the sun. Your throat bobs as you swallow hard, trying to erase the image of his half-naked body from your mind. Every nerve in your body is attached to the single focal point where your bodies connect. A tingling sensation builds on the back of your neck. 

Warm, he was so warm – like the sun. He stretches his leg further to your side of the table, trapping your legs between his. The buzzing on your neck seemingly drops lower until it bubbles around your tense thighs. You tilt your head, allowing your lips to roll into your business smile. “Was there too much traffic on your way over here?” You question, hoping that talking about mundane things will slow your heart rate, which was honestly annoying you more than much else that had happened today. 

It’s not the first time you’d wanted to be between his legs. Sucking on that perfect cock of his while it blisters your swollen lips. Saliva mixed with pre-cum as he shoves it further down your throat, moaning your name mixed with a melody of explicits. His hands are tangled in your hair, messing the perfect way you’d styled it to appear more professional. Your eyes are rolling back in your head with each choppy thrust into your mouth. You can barely breathe, the only thing keeping you grounded was the tight grip you had on the back of his thighs. 

“But that was pretty much it…” Satoru trails off, drawing his brows together slightly. “You even listenin’?” He waves a hand in front of your dazed expression, ultimately snapping you out of whatever daytime fantasy that was. Your thighs clench together as a slick heat seeps into your core. Satoru doesn’t appear pleased with how you’d practically ignored him. Time to put on your smile again. He clicks his tongue, leaning onto the table. “Think you can get away with that pretty smile of yours?” His voice is low, that intense stare of his lowering to your lips. 

You grab the cup of coffee you’d ordered earlier, bringing the now cold liquid to your mouth. The smooth caramel taste runs down your throat, a light moan of satisfaction breaking the silence. Satoru watches with kept attention, drawing the line of your lips on the cup. Fuckin’ distracting is what it was. “Get away with what Satoru?” You tilt your head, setting the delicate cup back down. It clinks against the tea plate. 

He grunts, briskly sitting back in his chair, and crossing his arms over his chest. He takes a deep breath before looking back toward you. “That smile. It’s dangerous. You should be more careful with it around me.” His voice is low, teasing. It drives you wild.

Tilting your head, you stare at him with a stern expression. “I’ll be sure to put a warning label on it next time, just for you. In fact, I’ll make sure to file a report with HR about my smile being a workplace hazard.” You retort, rolling your eyes at his antics. 

He cocks a grin, amused by this whole scenario. "Go ahead, file the report. But you’ll have to include that you smiled first, so technically, it’s entrapment." Your face drops for a split second before you remember that HR doesn’t exist and you just got nervous about a hypothetical harassment report. 

You take a calm, detached sip from your drink. "Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to include all the evidence. Your overconfidence will be Exhibit A. Now, can we please continue our meeting?”

Satoru is silent for a beat before a cheesy grin lines his pink lips. "Oh, of course. I’m nothing if not a professional businessman. Let’s talk about what you really want to, my cock." There’s a slight glimmer in his eyes that irks you to no end, but he wasn’t necessarily wrong. 

The notebook in front of you was open to a fresh page with a title of ‘keep em’ cummin’ at the top. Fine wordplay if you do say so yourself. “Yes, well, there’s not much to talk about now is there?” The corner of your mouth twitches with pride in your snide comment. 

For a moment you think he’s not going to acknowledge your obvious lie, but then you feel the tip of his shoe on your ankle. Above the table he looks bored, distantly peering at your notebook as he slides his foot between your shoes. You’re confused for a moment as you watch him cover his mouth and turn his gaze out the window. With a brisk movement, he uses his foot as a fulcrum to briskly spread your legs apart. The action makes you jump in your seat, bringing your knees together to keep some sense of dignity. “You and I both know that isn’t true.” He studies you from the corner of his eye. “Given the chance, you’d love to be one of the props for my shows.” He tilts his head toward you, his face morphing into a smug victory.

You raise your brows, trying to conceal the way your heart jumps wildly in your chest. You wouldn’t let him win so easily. Besides, this was a professional relationship. Nothing more, nothing less. Yet, you can’t help but snap back with "Given the chance, you’d probably love for me to say yes to that, wouldn’t you? Sadly, I’m here to talk about your show Satoru, not audition for it.” It takes all of your energy to calm the thumping in case he could hear it. 

"Talking about my show? Isn’t that exactly what we’re doing? Besides, who says you need to audition? I mean, you’re practically in it already.” He’s quick to lean forward onto the table, looking you up and down. “I’ll make sure to save you a spot in the credits.” He hums, picking up your cup. He leans back, sweetly taking his time to sip the drink. “Feel free to send me a nude, that way when I’m jacking off you’ll know exactly who I’m thinking about.” Your skin heats up at his words, arousal crawling up your spine and sinking its teeth into the back of your neck. The feeling makes you straighten your back and take a shaky breath. 

You hadn’t heard from Satoru since the meeting and weren’t sure of your feelings toward that. It wasn’t your fault he wanted to throw a tantrum during an important business meeting. The whole situation had you doubting being his manager. 

A calm smile replaces your obvious loss of composure. Scoffing breathily you shut the notebook on the table. You knew Satoru was used to getting his way with women, you’d witnessed it firsthand – but you weren’t going to let his attitude go unchecked. “Oh, don’t worry. I already assumed you think about me when you’re alone.” You draw your brows together, jutting out your bottom lip in a pout. “And here I thought you were creative enough to use your imagination. How disappointing.” His smirk falters behind the cup as you push the notebook toward him. “Write down some ideas to make you not be an everyday whore. I think you can do that much, right?” At that, you leave Satoru blinded by what you’d like to call a victory. 

Your windows were glowing with Tokyo city lights, creating a sea of neon. You’re so wrapped up in watching the street below you that you almost don’t hear your phone ringing. You have half the mind just to ignore whoever is calling you at this hour, but as you glance down to read the ID your skin pricks with anxiety. Shit, why was your boss calling you? You pick up your phone, placing it on speaker as you answer the call. “Hello?” You squeak. 

There’s some shuffling on the other side, but Director Yang's all too familiar voice gruffly comes through. “Yes, Ms. YN, we’re calling about Satoru’s show tomorrow. Do you have time to discuss?” A laugh bursts from your mouth and you clamp a hand over your lips. Like you had a choice in the matter. “Are you alright Ms. YN?” He doesn’t sound like he cares at all. 

“Yes, apologies Director Yang, of course, I have time to speak.” You reply quickly. He hums, rolling the noise around in his mouth. It rings through your ears like an alarm bell. 

It sounds like he’s muttering something to another person, and then suddenly he grunts loudly. “I’m assuming you know the severity of Satoru’s success rate? We here at LustLine won’t accept anything less than 10k viewers.” Your blood chills. His introduction rate had been nearly half of that, how did they expect a new streamer to reach numbers for their second stream? Let alone their first explicit one? “You know our expectations for managers Ms. YN, success above all else. You’ll make sure to do everything in your power to ensure a successful stream.” Before you have any time to respond or – hell – ask any questions the phone line disconnects. 

You stare at the black screen of your phone for a long moment of silence. Maybe you were mourning your career or maybe you were mourning your dignity. The screen lights up with a notification. 

Satoru: maybe I am an everyday whore

Linked in his message is a document outlining what he plans to do tomorrow. He’s a fucking genius.

“You ready?” You ask, assessing his outfit one last time. He grins, straightening the waistcoat he was in. Wine em’ and dine em’. Cosplay QNA turns into a horny noble jerking off in secret while at a ball. He was in tight black pants, tall brown boots, an ornate waistcoat, and a fluffy white undershirt. His hair was neat and you’d be damned if he wasn’t the sexiest thing on this planet. Not that you’d ever let him know that.

He places the finishing touch on his face – a masquerade mask – rolling his tongue between his lips. “Hmm, maybe when I’m done we can talk about your audition. I have notes.” His smoldering smile nearly kills you as he nods toward the door. Your face scrunches as his mask slips off his face, but he fixes it quickly. It’s almost enough for you to mention something, but before you can Satoru opens his mouth again. “Well, I’m off to work. Try not to masturbate too much without me, ruins the mood,” He walks a few paces before turning back to give you one last smile. “And the upholstery on that chair was expensive.” He adds, disappearing behind the door. 

You weren’t looking forward to tonight, after whatever happened during the cafe meeting and then that ominous call from your director – moving to the States sounded better than all of this. Dread was starting to fill your stomach as you walked through Satoru’s apartment door. He was waiting there for you, costume in hand, an apology cake in the other. Bottom line he acknowledged that he may have crossed a line… which was weird to hear him say because, in reality, your brain welcomed the thought of his suggestion. It made you feel guilty – having made him pay the bill and come up with a top-notch plan all on his own. You weren’t walking away from him – not really– no you were trying to walk away from yourself. The thoughts of Satoru eating you out under the table after he spread your legs apart in front of the window. Everyone who passed by would see you, their envy disguised by disgust. It was…exhilarating. So you had to get out of there before the crazy in you got a hold of Satoru and started hearing out his crazy plans. 

Needless to say, things were a lot better between the both of you. The screen in front of you pops up with a ‘starting now’ message before Satoru’s masked face fills out the screen. All his fans should be jealous that you got to see the real thing in person. His voice is clear in the mic, echoing through the speakers and your body. You glance at the door, biting down on your lip. What exactly would be Satoru’s reaction if you sent him a little…encouragement?

A sinister smile works the corners of your mouth upward as you slip out of your blouse, exposing your flushed breasts supported by a lacey black bra. You pick up your phone, open up the camera, and meet your gaze on the screen. You blink, noting the glaze of your eyes. 

Lifting up the phone to angle down your cleavage, catching the hem of lace. Before you can think twice about the consequences of such a simple action you click the button, capturing your rosy cheeks and devious grin. You open up your chat with Satoru and send the picture without much thought. 

I make no promises about the upholstery 

You glance back to the laptop screen in front of you, noting the way Satoru’s eyes dip to where his phone probably sits on the desk. He brows flinch, furrowing for a brief second before laughing at someone’s comment. He looks distracted, his gaze trailing down to his phone every once in a while. He’s gotten to the portion where he’ll start the bit of hiding away to touch himself. He grabs his phone, muttering something about mood lighting, but you glance down at your phone to see the little ‘read’ indicator appear. His face drops – not the reaction you were hoping for – but then you see how slowly his throat bobs with a swallow. The lights switch to a dusty yellow, dimmed to give the illusion of secrecy. You can still make out the glow of his eyes, illuminated by his phone screen. 

Some comments roll in about how slow he’s being, but the majority of them are pleased with seeing his cock. Can’t say you blame them. Satoru smirks to himself, a grin so full of ego it almost makes you proud. He works his belt off, standing from his desk chair to angle his waist toward the camera. “You can’t tell anyone about this,” He whispers, sliding his breeches down his thighs. “I can’t wait any longer, you drive me crazy. I want you so badly.” He hisses out of frame, groaning loudly as he frees himself from his boxers. You’d never seen a body part this beautiful. I mean who allowed him to have such a spectacular specimen attached to his body? 

The tip of his cock is an angry pink, tapering down to a paler shade of his skin tone. Viens etched their way up his shaft, curling toward the weeping head. He kept it well groomed and his hip muscles that fed into the base of his cock nearly sent shivers down your spine. He grips it with one hand, barely covering the length. Fuck, this was turning you on more than you’d hoped. Satoru is just about to start moving when his mask comes undone around the top section. You’re back into manager mode as the left side slowly slides down his face. He must notice because he hesitates as well, but he can’t fix it – as he’s currently jacking off in front of half a million people– half a million? Your eyes bulge. He couldn’t reveal his face to that many people, it would mean the end of his career before it even started. 

Your body moves on its own as you briskly open his office door. His attention is drawn to your half-naked appearance, blatantly staring at the lacey bra. You narrow your brows, nodding toward the camera. He goes back into character, but this time you get distracted by the movement of his hand around his cock. A slick pressure nearly bursts from in between your thighs. You blink rapidly, trying to look back at the situation at hand. His mask had stilled for the moment, but it was too risky to leave. A second mask lying on the dresser catches your eye. You swallow, quickly lacing it around your face. Satoru peers at you, slowing the pace of his strokes. It’s like he knows what you’re about to do – not that either of you mind. “Couldn’t hold back either eh?” His eyes trail down to his stiff cock, aching for another’s touch. 

Just go through with it. Feed into your desires. After all, isn’t this what the CEO meant? You slowly come into frame, brushing your fingertips against the skin of his chest. He tenses under your touch, his eyes flickering to where you stand. Gently you raise your hand to cup his cheek, bringing him down to your level. His hand has fallen from his cock, concentrating on the way you move in his space. You were something akin to ethereal and pure danger. “Think you can use your theatrics for good or do you think you won’t be able to handle it?” You tease, grinning innocently at him. 

Satoru raises his brows, leaning into your warmth. “Mmm, I don’t know, we never confirmed your audition.” He brushes the hair away from your neck, spanning his large hand against your sensitive skin. “But I think I can be flexible, as long as you are too.” His thumb is running along your jaw, eliciting a breathy moan from your traitorous mouth. “Do you get involved with all your talent?” He mutters, distracted by how your eyes flutter shut. 

A devious grin takes over your plump lips as you chuckle. “That’s not fair Satoru, who ever said you were talented?” His hand shifts to the base of your neck, tightening his grip around your windpipes. Your eyes fan open, meeting his gaze. 

It’s intense and heated as he rolls his tongue over his lips. “You’re about to find out now, aren’t you? Don’t get too attached darlin’” He says the latter part loud enough for the camera to pick up. He brings his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you into his chest. “Your father would never approve of this,” His voice is strained, “but I couldn’t care less, you are heaven incarnate. Who am I to deny the pearly gates?” 

Damn, he was good at this whole improv thing. It almost knocks your brain completely off its rocker. It’s hard to think straight so the only words that come out of your mouth are; “Do not pretend this is pure. Disregard me, My Lord.” 

Satoru’s eyes light up at the use of title, the words falling from your lips making his cock beg to burrow deep within you. He was slowly losing control around you. “As you wish.” Now, usually at this time, you’d be pushing your expectations so far down. Yet, you couldn’t help but wish he’d kiss you passionately, but you were the one to open your mouth. “If you do well, maybe I’ll reward you later.” He’s pushing you to your knees and once you’re in front of his hips the whole world comes crashing into perspective. Satoru’s cock is thick and long, half of it surely wouldn’t fit in your mouth. 

He’s taking the camera off the tripod, aiming it toward you. Fuck, move your hands. You need to move your hands. Slowly your fingers wrap around the hard length of his cock. A hiss of pleasure slides out of his mouth. Watching you through the lens was nothing, seeing it in real life was going to kill him. He had to keep it together, no matter how much he wanted to spill all over your fucking filthy face. 

Anxiously you flick your tongue against the weeping slit of his head. His grip tightens around the camera, sliding his hand through your hair and pulling tightly. “Go on darling, let’s see you open that pretty mouth of yours.” You glare into the camera but obey. 

Parting your lips you languidly drag your tongue against the underside of his angry-looking head. You glance up, checking on Satoru. His chest is rising rapidly as he takes all of you in. He shifts, gradually pushing himself into your mouth. “F-fuck,” He hisses, trembling as your wet mouth surrounds his length. He leans his head back, groaning. “You feel so good, shit, s’my pretty girl.” Heat dives to his core as a strangled moan falls from his lips. What were you doing to him? He’d never said or hell done these things until right now. He was under some sort of spell, feverishly thrusting into your mouth. 

Your lips were red, the corners of your mouth felt like they were tearing. Saliva slides down your jaw, pooling next to your knees. “S’fucking good.” Satoru haphazardly sets the camera on the desk, using his newly free hand to more accurately fuck your face. His balls felt like they were about to burst. “M’gonna cum, f’uck,” he practically shoves you off his cock, clumsily stroking his cock. “Open your mouth baby girl,” he sounds like he’s begging. You wanted him to cum, prove your efforts weren’t for naught. “S’at’s it, mmm, f’uck,” he groans as his eyes furrow. Your pretty mouth open for him, waiting patiently. God, it was driving him insane. His hand aches from the sheer force of his movements. 

You shut your eyes, feeling the warmth of Satoru’s cum splurt over your face. You drag a glob off your cheek, sticking out your tongue to lavish the sweet juice. He studies you with a dark expression. 

His stream is forgotten as he pulls you from the ground. “After all that you think I’m letting you leave? Come on, I haven’t even tried the main course.” He grabs a rag from his desk, cleaning what he can of his load off your face. He was right all along. You wanted this, no him. Even if that was just his personality of teasing every woman he came into contact with, it had gotten to you…and that was scary. You’d given in. 

It’s the brisk step back that nearly breaks your resolve. The expression on Satoru’s face is one of neediness. “I’m sorry, I must return to the ball…I can’t do this.” You briskly walk to the door, tearing off the mask and tossing it toward Satoru who is staring after you. 

You had to make your escape quick. “Wait, where are you going?” Satoru’s eyes go wide as you shut the door behind you, gather your things, slip back into your shirt, and run out the door. The worst part was rushing past the apology cake. 

You would not let this fever for Satoru ruin what you’d worked so hard for. 

Satoru Gojo and His Pet Cat

Satoru Gojo would definitely own a fluffy white cat that he spoils rotten. She would get taken to only the best salons and groomers. Dine on the finest tuna and salmon. Every time Gojo went out he’d buy her a new toy or a pretty accessory to put in her long white fur.

That’s how he met you, shopping for his baby girl. You worked at one of the shops he frequented, always giving him the best suggestions for his sweet kitty. You two became close enough for Satoru to give you his number. It was mostly sending pictures of his cat and yours back and forth. Innocent really, but there were times when the conversation would shift into something deeper. There were other times Satoru would send a picture of her laying on his bare chest or in his lap or videos of his large hands stroking the soft white fur of his cat. You weren’t sure if he was doing it on purpose, but you never thought you’d be jealous of a cat for being well taken care of.

Eventually, Satoru invites you over to his apartment so you can meet his cat. “Thanks for having me,” you’ll mutter before spotting the fluffy white feline. She’s absolutely gorgeous, prettier than any cat you’ve seen. You love animals, so of course you’ll get excited, asking if you can pet her. Satoru will smirk, coming up behind you, resting one of his large hands on your hip, the other one coming up to brush the hair away from your neck. Your skin burns from his touch, electricity buzzing within you. 

He hums, pulling you flush against his front. Your breath sputters at the hard planes of his body. “I’ll let you pet her if you let me pet you.” You turn your head against his chest to look up into his eyes, your heart rushing to keep up with your breathing. “You’d look pretty on a leash lookin’ at me like that darlin’.” 

I JUST BINGE READ ALL OF YOUR WORKS. YOU HAVE ME SCREAMING AND CRYING. The amount of detail that you put into them is MWAH the freakin chefs kiss 😘 you have been promoted to my #1, please never stop what you're doing ❤️❤️❤️

on another note, would you mind if I requested a scenario with Gojo? Maybe something about fem!y/n being from a high ranking rival clan, who the Gojo clan has despised for their entire existence. Maybe y/n has always had a crush on satoru ever since they first saw each other as kids, but since they were raised to hate each other it never went any further than a small lil crush. but now they're adults and both powerful sorcerers, her feelings kind of just pop back up out of nowhere and satoru finds it amusing how even after all this time and the things that their clans told them about each other that she would still have her little puppy crush on him. Maybe it could be like a she fell first and he fell harder scenario? i'm a slut for those oh my gosh

thank you so much!!!!

That's so so so sweet of you! Honestly, got me giggling and kicking my feet. Careful, I will propose, istg. This... turned into a monster while writing it. I came up with a silly little plan and a silly little idea to incorporate into your request and then this monstrosity was born. If I wasn't told to stop... I might've never stopped writing on this. I L O V E D this idea. Friends to lovers/1 fell first then the other fell harder I EAT UP EVERY TIME. So, here's what my whore brain wrote <3 love you and I hope you enjoy!

warnings: NSFW, MDNI, Gojo harasses the women he's actually into (he forgets how to flirt so just ends up bullying them), teasing, flirting, kissing, cowgirl, missionary, raw sex, a lot of touching, feelings...so many feelings

word count: 6.1k

The Crave | Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

“Are you sure they’ll be there? I don’t want their son to look at our precious daughter.” Your mother holds you closely to her legs, clicking her tongue in annoyance when the maid nods her head. “Unbelievable. You hear that? Do they think they can parade that freak of nature around Japan? Well, they’ll have to see our daughter as well. She’s got the normal amount of eyes and isn’t staring at everyone with those ugly blue ones.” Her tone is harsh and for a six-year-old you, it’s hard to understand why she’s so angry. You also doubted that the young boy had six eyes.

Your father walks into the room, straightening his tie with a stern look on his features. “As long as they keep him away from her, everything will be fine.”

But as you were brought into the party, still close to your mother – you saw nothing but a boy with snow white hair and brilliant blue eyes. Sure the way he glared at you was slightly off-putting, but he was just a boy. He was alone in the room, but everyone seemed to be talking about him. Even your mother shamed him behind a gloved hand. 

Your heart aches. What did he do that warranted such disgust for simply being alive? The Gojo clan and your clan had been at odds since the very conception of both. They bred powerful sorcerors for fame, gain, and wealth. He was yet another product of selfish desire, born into a role and body he didn’t ask for. His life ahead would be filled with always the underline of being strong. Somehow; being uniquely gifted gave him the responsibility to be used like a tool. You knew your fate wasn’t far behind his.

Though, his eyes sparkled like he knew some deeply funny thing about the world. That – even though his destiny was surely to be used up by his clan – there were still things to be enjoyed in the world. It made your…stomach hurt. Both a swirling breeze of cool and a stifling wave of heat. Boiled and frozen, pumping whatever this feeling was straight into your tiny brain. 

That was the first time you ever saw Satoru Gojo, and you’d soon come to realize around the age of 10 that you had developed an infatuation with him. Children surrounded you, chattering about how you and Satoru were going to get married when you were older. Of course, you blushed and stayed quiet – which in hindsight wasn’t the best idea since the gaggle of children went screaming at Satoru about how you wanted to marry him. A less-than-ideal situation because those sapphire eyes tracked you down amongst the crowd and 10-year-old Satoru smirked. You were utterly done for.

Thinking back on the encounters you’d had with Satoru Gojo, you were glad your family hated him. It gave you an excuse to hide behind that fact because still – in your 20s – his face would appear in the back of your mind. You’d heard things about the miraculous powerful sorcerer he’d become from your boss at the special unit for special grade sorcerors. Your mother called you about 30 times just today to remind you Satoru wasn’t the strongest, you were. The Gojo clan was sneaky, they didn’t care about anyone else except for their gain. Your parents had raised you to be wary of anything the Gojo clan did, one misstep, and suddenly you’d be shipped off to the States. 

It was a mix inside your stomach. The Gojos were not to be trusted and you most definitely were not allowed to interact with their heir. So when your boss comes waltzing up to you with a wide smile on her face, you know that rule is about to be broken. “YN, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Her laugh comes off rushed. Your boss knew about the tensions between the rivaling clans, working with special grade sorcerors required her to do so. Then why? Why the hell did she pass over a report with that stupid fucker’s face on it? “There’s a powerful curse roaming around Shibuya that needs the attention of,” she pauses, scrunching her face in thought. 

You sigh, the annoyance in your body pooling in your joints. “Two extremely powerful sorcerors?” You offer, the fakest smile known to mankind presenting itself on your lips.

Nevertheless, she lights up and hits her fist on the flat of her palm. “Exactly! See, this is why we have you on the team!” She exclaims with a little too much vigor for your taste. 

You watch her for a moment, noticing the way her long blue hair bounces around – almost like they were cheering you on as well. “Right…” You drag out the word, glancing at the file folder in your hand. “Why can’t Gojo handle it by himself then?” Her excitement seemingly drains from her face. You take note immediately. “Boss, how powerful is this damn thing?”

༘⋆✿

Meanwhile, Satoru had the same look on his face – annoyance. He understood having two special graders go on this mission would ultimately be the best option, but you? What sort of sick play of the fates was this? You were always so, he groans running a hand down his face, perfect. Your reputation, your battle tactics, hell even your coworkers thought you were the best. That’s insane. What kind of person even has all of their coworkers think the best of them?

He tosses your folder to the side of his desk, wanting to bang his forehead on the surface of the hardwood just to make sure he is seeing things clearly. The higher-ups were always comparing him to you, making sure he never fell behind in anything. Your clan was just a bunch of prissy stuck-up snobs… but then again… so was his. 

It’s useless, he was stuck going on this mission with you because no matter how powerful he was, he would never have power over himself. He reaches for your folder again, flipping it open. Along with the neverending list of your accolades and magnificent achievements, was a picture of you paperclipped to the stack of paper. A few beats of silence pass as Satoru stares at your face. 

After a few more minutes he grunts and shuts the folder again. He focuses on pulling the black cloth back over his eyes. The curse would be a piece of cake, especially with both of you on the mission. That’s not what he was worried about per se. The tricky part was how unbelievably pretty you had gotten to be and how there was a growing ache in the pit of his stomach. Fuck, this was going to be a shitshow. Then again, he couldn’t help but wonder – with a growing smirk on his face – if you still had that puppy dog crush on him.

༘⋆✿

“Yes, right this way ma’am.” A blonde man guides you toward Satoru’s office. He’s in an interesting outfit, not the usual sorcerer apparel. His tie is black and white forming an interesting pattern. His calm blue dress shirt is tucked into a pair of beige slacks. He’s very handsome and also looks very tired. Probably from dealing with all of Satoru’s bullshit if you had to guess. 

He stops in front of a door and you almost don’t catch how his body deflates quickly with a tiny sigh before he’s back to normal. “Before I go in, please just call me YN.” Your body moves on its own, planting a hand on his rather muscular shoulder. 

He attempts a smile, but it falters almost as soon as the corners of his mouth reach their peak. “Call me Nanami, Nanami Kento.” He extends a hand and you gratefully shake it. He seems nice. Then, he opens the door and leaning up against a desk is none other than Satoru. 

Satoru is in uniform and you’ll be damned, he looks too good in it. How can someone that lanky pull off a baggy uniform? His fluffy white hair spikes out in a messy ‘I woke up looking this good’ way. Your heart – against every inch of your being, is thumping wildly in your chest. You should’ve double-checked his file to conclude he doesn’t have six ears. What if he can hear how erratic your pulse is? His azure gaze is locked in on the man beside you. “Thank you, Nanami,” Satoru smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. You hear a grunt beside you and then Nanami starts walking down the hall. You watch him leave, wishing he could’ve stayed longer. You hear a loud cough from inside the room. Furrowing your brows you turn your gaze to Satoru, who looks irritated. “I thought you came to spend time with me YN, yet here you are not even paying any attention to me.” He complains, standing up. 

You press your lips into a thin line. “We’re not here for a playdate, we have business to do.” You reply with a lash of venom in your cool tone. Satoru glances off to the side with an airy laugh and smirk. What was he laughing about? You were growing more frustrated with every second. 

“Mmm, playdates remind me of when we were children.” He’s still looking off to the side like he’s watching a memory play out that only he can see. His gaze is back to you in an instant. “You had a crush on me, remember?” He cocks his head to the side, a teasing grin taking over his stupidly handsome face. 

Your body cools with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance. Oh, so he wanted to bring up the past? You put on your best ‘fuck around a find out’ smile. “Yeah, but that was before puberty hit and I had standards.” You answer the tone of your voice higher and sweeter than before. Satoru raises his brows as an amused expression takes over his face. “Shall we get to business now?” You snap, which only makes him burst out laughing. 

Satoru is walking toward you now and the alarm bells in your head start flashing. “Hey, before that I have a question I’ve been dying to know.” He leans down, planting a hand on the wall next to your head to be level with you. You stiffen, growing uncomfortable. Not with Satoru being this close, but with how much your body seems to enjoy it. 

Your brows knit together and a frown tugs your face downward. “What?” You fume, jerking your head to emphasize the word. Satoru observes you, that feeling in his stomach clawing its way up. His gaze falls to your lips for the slightest of seconds. 

He swallows, the vexing emotion wanted to be near you, beside you, touching you, in you. How troublesome. The only way for Satoru to get rid of this feeling was to somehow annoy you to the extent you never came around him again. Granted – you didn’t anyway, but this exception had nearly driven him to the edge already. “When you were little, did you ever create an illusion of me? Did you hold his hand? Practice kissing him?” Satoru inquires, feeling full of himself. Your whole face drops. You must be in a different world because he did not just ask you that. A garbled scoff sounds from your throat as you gape at him, utterly dumbfounded. 

You try to process what the hell is going on by opening and closing your mouth, raising your hands then dropping them again, and blinking rapidly. “Oh my God,” are the first words that you say. They’re also the next few thousand words you say considering how many times you repeat the phrase. 

By this time Satoru has dropped his arm, regarding you with a rueful grin. He’s backed away a few paces and you finally point a finger at him. “You are disgusting. You mean nothing to me. You’re such an annoying,” You’re panting, anger rolling through you in cold and hot waves. “An annoying.” 

“What YN? An annoying what?” Your eyes are going to bulge out of your head. He’s smirking again! Smirking!

“An annoying fuckface!” You scream, throwing your hands out in pure frustration. You groan exasperatedly before storming out of his office. 

༘⋆✿

Had you really called him a fuckface? What did that even mean? Satoru is staring at the ceiling of his city-rise apartment, unbelievably shell-shocked from the events earlier today. He flips over on his side. It hadn’t gone exactly like he planned, although he didn’t put much planning into the whole thing. Tomorrow morning you’d both meet up at Shibuya station to track down the cursed spirit. He should probably apologize for acting like an idiot…he groans and flips back onto his back. 

Morning comes like a weight of bricks. You’re both standing awkwardly in the station. The people passing by must sense something because none of them even look your way. Satoru points to the stairs leading to the street level. “Uh, we could always patrol the rooftops…” He’s being so awkward. It was honestly a hit to his ego. Usually, the ladies ate up his tease em’ and leave em’ tactic. As he stares at you a blood-curdling scream echoes from the street above. Dust shakes off of the parts of the station as a loud explosion shakes the ground. 

You glance at Satoru and he nods his head, a knowing smile creeping up his face. Finally, some fighting to get his mind off of whatever asshole thing he’d manage to say to you next. As you both reach the street ahead you’re met with chaos. Cars are being flung by a large lizard entity, but it has eyes everywhere on its body. Satoru is about to gauge an attack but you burst out laughing next to him. His footing stutters, eyes widening as he takes in your genuine laugh. It’s… kind of majestic. You hug your stomach, doubling over in laughter as you extend your hand to point at the cursed spirit. “Looks like,” you snort out a giggle, “Looks like you have some competition for having the most eyes.” 

Gojo is immediately taken aback by your words. A woman runs screaming past you as you wipe a tear away from your eye. “Now let me show you a thing or two.” You sprint toward where rubble and wreckage cause obstacles. You make light work of climbing atop a sizeable pile of rebar and pavement. “Hey, lizard breath! Over here!” Jumping up and down, you wave your arms in the air. Did Satoru have to do anything? You seem to know what to do. 

He watches you with a small chuckle as the monstrosity turns its bulbous eyes toward you. In the blink of its mucusy eyes, your image doubles. Thousands of you spread across the street, then start attacking the main body. Satoru grins, jumping in to join. “Think you could have all the fun without me?!” He yells toward you. 

You’re surprised he could easily see which one of you was the real one. Though, you guess that’s what all those eyes were for. You were working off of one another – working with each other. If your clans could see you now. You’re both laughing and fighting like taking a walk in the park. Surprisingly Satoru can’t keep his eyes off you. He wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted to protect you or simply because as you fought alongside him you proved you didn’t need his protection. When you were with him you didn’t rely on him. No, you could handle yourself, which made Satoru crave your attention. He was the strongest…but with you by his side, his strength would finally be supported rather than taken for granted. 

It doesn’t take long to deal with the cursed spirit and for once Satoru is glad you’re required to come back as a team to fill out paperwork. That way he could get a little extra time with you. He smirks to himself as you finish up in Shibuya. 

He likes the look of you in his office, sitting on the couch in the corner with a small table in front of you. A laptop, a stack of papers, and a cup of tea are all somehow set on top of the small space. Your hair is falling in front of your face as you crouch over to type away the report. He was supposed to be working too, but he’d be damned if he broke his gaze now. “You ever going to stop looking at me and actually fill out some of those files Mr. Gojo?” You hum, still concentrating on the screen in front of you. Of course, you’d figure out he was gawking, it’s not like he was hiding it. 

Satoru clears his throat and glances away. “You can call me Satoru,” He pouts. When was the last time Satoru had requested a woman call him by his given name? Out of everyone else’s mouth, it was a simple endearment, but out of yours? That was something else entirely. 

You sigh, pausing in your efforts to finish the paperwork before dawn. You roll your lips into your mouth and tap your chin. “I think I much prefer fuckface.” You say, then smile sweetly. 

Satoru nods his head, pushing out of his seat. “Yeah? You want to call me fuckface or you want to fuck my face?” He banters. Your body tenses as you watch him sit on the edge of his desk. There's a pressure building in between your thighs that you can’t ignore. Your body feels like there are phantom touches caressing all of the places you yearned for Satoru to touch. 

You huff and turn away from him. “Back to this? Where’s your dignity, your charm, your manhood?” You ask. You jerk to the side, shaking your head. “No wait- that’s not exactly what I mean to say please don’t-”

Satoru is already laughing. “My manhood? Damn, you really must be thinking up all sorts of illusions in there, but,” he crosses the room, stopping in front of your table. He pushes the laptop shut with his fingertips. “The real thing is always going to be better darlin’.”

It suddenly seems very hard to swallow, so you let out an awkward laugh before gathering up your things. “Right, sure, I have to go.” You stumble over your words, rushing for the door. If you didn’t get out of this room right now you were sure bad things would happen. By bad things, you meant letting your guard down for a second around a man who was just flirting with you for the hell of it. You were a part of a rival clan, which meant he couldn’t have you. That also meant he wanted you more than the average woman. Of that, you could be certain, but you wouldn’t be some plaything Satoru could throw to the side once he’d had his fun. 

Behind you Satoru’s face had fallen, his chest rising and falling quickly as you scurry out of his office. Good, now that the real threat had been dealt with, he had some paperwork to finish. You’d be safer away from him, not wrapped up in his clan dealings and always having to live for others. For once, Satoru wanted to be truthfully selfish – sure he would go out, drink, party, enjoy one or two ladies, but in the end he was left with himself again. Satoru couldn’t save himself and he was scared that the only one powerful enough to pull him out of this desperate cry for help…was you.

༘⋆✿

A couple of months pass by without hide or tail of Satoru. Working alongside him was honestly…freeing. You weren’t held back by the possibility of someone weaker getting hurt. You groan, turning your face to the sky above you. It was gratifying being able to let loose with your own powers. Usually that many mimics will render you immobile, but you were able to spring into action right next to them. “Ma’am, a report from the Tokyo campus,” A file is passed in front of you. As you glance through the pages you turn to glance at your boss. 

She seems busy chatting away with one of the other sorcerers. You blow out a sigh and tuck the file under your arm. “Call them back and tell them I’ll be there within the hour.” You glance down at your sweats, wincing at the fact you wore such comfortable clothes to work. “Maybe make that 2.” You mutter, a disapproving scowl taking over your face. 

You ran home to change into a pair of running shoes, black leggings, and whatever shirt was on top of your dirty laundry. Unlike someone else, you couldn’t teleport, so public transportation was your only way to reach the Tokyo campus area. Walking up the stairs takes a little more effort than you’d like to admit, but when you reach the top you’re met with a shirtless Satoru Gojo and Nanami Kento training. Your jaw practically dislocates from your mouth as you gawk. They were gliding through the air and Nanami somehow had a more excited expression on his face than before. Of course, Satoru notices you first, but that allows Nanami to get a whack in. “Hey! That was foul play.” Satoru hisses, holding his cheek. 

Nanami shrugs, bending down to pick a towel off the ground. “Should’ve put your infinity back up.” He then glances at you and smiles. Your heart warms and a cheesy smile appears on your face. “Hey YN,” He waves and for a moment you’re awestruck by how handsome he is. The Lord was kind to these men. So…so very kind. Both of them were muscular, their abdomens shaped into ridges and divots. Biceps, triceps, everything went on in rippling splendor forever. You’d thought Satoru had maintained a scrawny figure, but you were certainly proved wrong and you were so glad you were. 

 “Hi there Nanami.” You walk over to him, picking up a stray water bottle on your way. You hand it to him but he shakes his head. 

“Thank you, but that’s actually his,” he juts his thumb toward Satoru and your face falls. You toss it toward the silver-haired man and he annoyingly catches it with ease. 

He glares at you, throwing his towel over his shoulder. “Yeah, thanks YN.” He grumbles. Nanami nods toward the school building. 

“If you let me wash up I can take you to Yaga’s office.” He’s back to smiling and honestly, you might have a thing for smiles. 

You latch your hands behind your back and giggle to yourself. “That would be really sweet of you Nanami.” Satoru snorts out a laugh on the other side of Nanami. You shoot him a glare. 

“Why are you callin’ Nanami by his first name but you don me fuckface?” Satoru shoots toward you, frustration twinging all of his happiness from the earlier training session. Nanami peers between you two, and then his brows shoot up with an airy laugh. 

“Oh my God you’re the one that called him fuckface? That’s so fucking funny.” Nanami laughs toward the sky, a soft sound coming from him. 

Satoru grumbles to himself, rolling his eyes like a frustrated child. “You are coming with me.” He growls, latching onto your wrist and pulling you toward the school. 

You stumble over your footing as he yanks you down the pathway. “S-Satoru w-wait oh my God!” You yell as you finally enter the building. He tosses you into the room you know to be his office. You falter backward, catching yourself on his desk. “What’s going on, what the fuck was that?” You hiss. He stalks toward you, throwing his towel onto the couch with a little more aggression than you’d like. 

He closes the distance between you, his nostrils flaring and eye twitching. “Oh so now you call me by name? Oh well, it’s too late for that now princess. You’ve pushed me far enough.” He laughs hotly moving between your legs. He’s massive and his skin is warm, you can feel the heat radiating off of him through your pants. He towers over you in an overwhelmingly torturously attractive way. 

It was hard to understand what was happening with the ringing of your heart covering all rational thought. “What are you saying? I’m not the one that made all those stupid jokes,” You mutter, looking away from him. He hisses, grabbing onto your chin and making your gaze settle back onto him. 

He laughs dryly as you blink questioningly at him. “Yeah? You had that stupid crush on me, that’s what caused this.” He spits, but you still can’t decipher what he’s trying to get at. 

Your lips part, letting out a small exasperated breath. “Listen, I didn’t mean to crush on you again, just old habits die hard I guess,” You explain, groaning as his grip tightens on your chin. His face looks tormented like some great plague has taken over his body.  

He scoffs, tossing your face to the side. You grunt with the impact, narrowing your eyes in annoyance. “Again? Haaa,” He covers his eyes with his hand, groaning softly. “You ran away from me then ignored me YN… how does that scream ‘I have a crush on you?’” The hand that was over his eyes drags down his face. You don’t have an explanation for him because you barely had one for yourself. “You must’ve sent one of your puppets to walk around the streets by my apartment, the campus, but the one thing I can’t figure out is how you got one of them to walk around in my head. I can’t see anyone except you and I’m going crazy.” His eyes are pained and his breath is labored. You finally understand. 

“Satoru…” You whisper his name with all the softness in the world, years of loving him building up into an insurmountable emotion. He turns away from you, covering his mouth this time. 

“Fuck YN, don’t say my name like that.” He hisses and you swear you can see playboy Satoru Gojo’s ears blaze a red color. “You weren’t even trying earlier, but you made me so jealous. Nanami was flirting with you right in front of me and I couldn’t do a damned thing about it. I wanted to both be Nanami and beat the shit out of him.” He slowly lets his gaze turn to you again. “I think I’m in love with you YN,” His voice is nervous, and his eyes are flittering all over your face, searching for answers. 

In love with you? Satoru Gojo was in love with…you? After all the years of your mother telling you to stay away from that boy. You were never supposed to be in this situation, especially not with the head of the Gojo clan. But you know what they say… actually, you didn’t really care about some emotional quote that would relate to this very moment because all you wanted to do – craved to do, was kiss Satoru until the sun set behind the Tori gate. 

“Our clans aren’t going to be very happy about this new development.” You chuckle and Satoru rolls his eyes. 

“That’s not an answer YN…” Okay, so he wants words. A confirmation? What exactly did you feel? Was it love? Was it something different? You didn’t have to know now, time would solidify whatever love is. All you can do is put a name to what you’re feeling.

You smile, a blossoming feeling thumping in your chest. “Yes Satoru, I love you.” You almost don’t get the words out because Satoru slips a hand into your hair and brings your mouths together in a passionate kiss. He kisses you like he’s been a starved man all his life, like he’s never wanted to kiss someone this badly. 

Satoru is obsessed with the way you gasp between kisses and how your eyes squeeze shut. “You can open your eyes, I’m the real thing.” He chuckles and brushes his thumb against your cheek soothingly. 

You weren’t afraid Satoru was one of your illusions, but rather how real this was in the first place. When you really want something you shouldn’t the whole world kind of falls away when you get that thing. When Satoru kisses you, it’s only him and that was terrifying for someone who constantly surrounded herself with things. You peek through your lashes at him anyway. “The same thing goes for me, I’m real.” You state lamely. 

Satoru blows out a chuckle, grinning mischievously. “Mmm, I’m not so sure about that, maybe you should show me.” His eyes darken and the sweltering heat you felt before nearly doubles in size and intensity.

You put your hand over the one he has on your cheek, lowering it until his fingertips brush against the swell of your chest. His brows shoot up and before he has much time to react you move it lower to the apex of your thighs. His breathing falters as he stares, eyes swimming with lust. “Come on Gojo, show me what a rival clan can really do.” The corners of your mouth lift in an enticing smirk. 

For all the time he was irritating and downright egotistical, Satoru is a good listener now. He pushes you into the desk, groaning when your fingernails dig into his shoulders. “You sure do drive a hard bargain.” His mouth tickles against your neck, kissing a trail down to your shoulder. He pauses, taking in a breath. “Mmm, you smell so good,” He mumbles against your shirt. You flush, embarrassment running hot through your veins. Did he like the smell of your dirty shirt? If you’d known the situation you’d be in right now, you would’ve put more thought into what you were wearing. 

He brings himself back up toward your face, planting a deep kiss on your lips. A selfish moan breaks through as Satoru works his lips against yours. “God, you’re so good at that.” You breathe out. A satisfied hum rumbles from his chest. 

You take in his chest, appreciating the view. This earns a chortle from Satoru. “You know, I’m starting to think you only like me when my shirt is off.” You lean into him, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your eyes widen when you realize there’s something hard pressing into your thigh. How you didn’t feel it until now is a mystery because that thing is one of the 7 wonders of the world. Satoru grunts, pulling you up and off the ledge of his desk. “Do you feel that? I think I finally understand what the elders were talking about. All I want to do with you right now is ram my cock into you until I have you writhing under me. Then finish fucking my cum into your cervix so you can mother my children. That way, your parents will have to like me and my clan, because you’ll be a Gojo.” He’s being serious right now, setting you down on the couch. 

You bite your lip curiously. “Do you plan on wedding me Satoru Gojo?” It’s a loaded question that he didn’t have to answer. It was a sweet moment and there you had to go asking a question like that. You don’t expect Satoru to sink onto one knee, take your hand, and place loving kisses on your knucks. 

He meets your gaze, electricity burning between the both of you. “May you wrap my heart around your finger one day and bear my burdens as I will bear yours.” What was even happening? Marriage? Surely this was one big dream, because years ago when you were both kids even imagining this day seemed like a far-off occurrence. This was all so sudden, but in all honesty, when have the two of you ever conformed to conventional standards? 

You were certain of one thing, you didn’t want your first time with Satoru Gojo to be on some dusty couch in the corner of his office. “Satoru… do you think we could continue…” You glance down, running your tongue over your lips. “This elsewhere?” His eyes glimmer, his mouth quirking up in a grin. 

He stands, still holding your hand. “I just basically proposed to you and all you can think about is getting in my pants. Man, rejection stings.” He tuts, shaking his head. You roll your eyes as you both laugh, a heavyweight finally being lifted. Yeah, this felt right. 

All at once you feel nauseated and dizzy. You squeeze your eyes shut, grasping onto Satoru like he was the only thing that could hold you up. “What the fuck was that?” You gasp, blinking your eyes open to find a completely different scene than when you closed them. 

Satoru caresses your cheeks, grounding you to him. “Sorry, I promise you’ll get used to it, well… maybe not, but still I’m sorry.” 

“Where are we?” You gasp, hands still clutching his arms as you peer around the living room you appear to be in. It feels less than lived in like someone staged the whole apartment – which is what you assumed Satoru had teleported you both into.

He scratches the back of his neck while nervously chuckling. “My apartment,” His gaze falls to you, taking in how perfect you look among his things. “Do you like it?” He asks with such a look in his eyes, similar to a puppy begging for attention.

You peek out the ground to ceiling-level windows, laughing to yourself. “I didn’t know teachers got paid so much.” Satoru grins, nodding toward the windows – or rather the city outside of them. 

“Oh you know, I got kind of a side hustle going on.” He shrugs, then turns to you, that mischievous twinkle back in his eyes. “You should see the bedroom.” He offers you his hand, jerking his head to a hallway. “I hear the owner hates it when the bed is made, the least we should do is go mess them up for him.” You take Satoru’s hand and let him lead you into the bedroom at the end of the hall. 

Once the door was shut behind you the playful comments were thrown aside – replaced by frantic kisses and undressing. Satoru sits on the foot of the bed, watching you in all your splendor. Your body was that of a dream, your breasts, the slope of your stomach, thighs, fuck everything about you was glorious. Satoru couldn’t remember how to breathe gazing upon you. “Like what you see?” You tease, positioning yourself over his lap. 

You brace yourself on his shoulders, settling onto your knees. Satoru blows out a choked noise. “Thank fuck I have so many eyes because I couldn’t imagine not being able to see all of you like this.” His hands are on you, running up your back, molding his long fingers into your squishy tits, and then down your side to dig his nails into your hips. “Are you okay with this?” He inquires, tilting his head. 

You smile, but a small part of you wants to line yourself up with his cock and bottom out. “I’m okay with so much more.” You breath. He understands, after all you both want the same thing right now – crave it. 

You both wait with bated breath as Satoru lets you guide him into your entrance. With all the teasing and edging closer and closer to this moment, you were far from dry. It was a little embarrassing how slick you were considering there was practically no foreplay. You hiss as his pretty cock sinks deeper into your throbbing cunt. “That’s it, that’s my good girl. You can take all of me,” His grip on your hips tightens, helping push you onto him. A strangled moan hisses out of your mouth as you slump onto Satoru’s shoulders. “Feels s’good baby. God, you’re so perfect.” He’s kissing your temple and you’re squeezing his cock with airy moans. After a moment, he bottoms out, a guttural groan rumbling from within him. “You did so good, fuck,” 

The air feels thick, heady, and fills with the wet sound of Satoru’s cock inside you. “Go-go ahead and move.” You order with a shaky breath. He starts to move, laying back to better fuck into you. You plant your hands on his abdomen, moaning loudly. His length hits every sensitive spot at once, causing you to tremble on top of him.

Satoru chuckles, then suddenly flips you both over. “Come on YN, I thought you’re one of the strongest sorcerers in Japan, you can handle me fucking you.” 

Duke Satoru Gojo Teaser!

a/n: Guys, I've written over 9k words and there's still no smut. Suprise it's another Gojo fic :,) I don't have an excuse except I'm a whore for this man and I thought he'd look really good as a Duke. Can you just imagine him in all those ruffles and tight waistcoats~ Anyway, I thought a little teaser of what's to come might be nice <3

Sitting down in the comfortable tall backed chair and spreading your legs was the easy part. Then you had to slide the skirt of your dress up so that your petticoat could be shuffled to the side. From there you steadily reached your hand down to find your needy pussy. It was so warm in between your legs, almost hot to the touch as your fingers skimmed your thigh. A gasp trickled out of your mouth as you felt the cloth that was against your pubic mound. It was already damp with excitement. You craved any amount of attention from Satoru. You wished he was here right now, watching you touch yourself. His vibrant eyes would soak in every ounce of your desire and give it back to you tenfold when he bent you over his desk and fucked you hard. He’d love to watch the tears stream down your face as you whimpered his name, formalities forgotten with each thrust. His pleasure would build and he’d greedily chase after it because your pussy feels so good wrapped around his cock, clenching every so often. 

You slip your fingers into your folds, finding the sensitive bud quickly. You bite down on your bottom lip as you drag a finger across it. How wonderfully close you already were. You lean your head back against the back of the chair and let out a breathy groan. Your fingers worked diligently as you squirmed under the pleasure. Whiny moans and the slick noise from your pussy created a symphony of ecstasy. “Satoru.” You whimper and your vision fills with his attractive body, edging you further down the line of insanity. Your climax has you clenching around your fingers and gripping the arms of the chair you were sitting in. Your breath is heavy with lust, the smell of what you had just done stinging your lungs. Panic sets in as you straighten out your skirt and head for the door. You slowly open the door and glance down both ways of the hallway. You sneak out and shut the door behind you, heading toward the secret staircase to the library. What you didn’t notice was Satoru just rounding the corner of the hallway. He catches a glimpse of you scurrying out of his office and tilts his head in bemusement. 

“Oh?” He mumbles to himself, his lips lifting in a devious smirk. He can’t help but feel curious as to why you would be in his office. He walks over to the door and opens it hesitantly. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the least you could’ve done was turn off the lights. Satoru trusted you enough to not even think about the possibility of you stealing some important document. Not that there was much you could get your hands on outside of the secret compartment behind one of the bookshelves. He carefully shuts the door behind him and wanders over to his desk, noticing that his chair is slightly askew. Well, that was odd, he prided himself on putting things back where they were supposed to go. Then it hits him, the fragrance of your perfume and a slight tang of some other smell was slathered all over this area. He peers down at his chair and his eyes light up with desire. A desire so strong it nearly made him feral. This wasn’t like him. Duke Satoru Gojo was known for nothing more than simple flings at lavish hotels. He never brought anyone home, to his sanctuary, his private affairs. Ever since he met you, he’d thought about your smile and how observant your gaze was. Whether or not you chose to misguide the information you gathered was really up to you, though it did amuse him greatly that you thought he was wed to his best friend. How irritated Shoko would’ve been if you had told her, he’d love to see the look on her face. What he was looking at now was even better. A small wet puddle could barely be made out in the dim light. It smelt of sex in a room never tainted by such a thing. He chuckles darkly to himself as he glances back at the door you’d snuck out of earlier. He feels himself grow more intoxicated by the smell of your sex. He wasn’t in his right mind, standing over a place where you had touched yourself. Had you thought about him? Did you leave your cum here hoping he’d find it? He touches his mouth as his cock aches to know the answer. He rolls his tongue against his lips as he imagines just how ravishing you’d look whimpering and whining under his touch. He’d fuck you so good. You’d only be able to cry out his name. “What a naughty girl.”

satoru gojo - the misconception

a small drabble

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when it comes to s. gojo, many people like to not only mischaracterize him, but also take words out of context from official media. no, satoru is not a cheater— nor would he be unfaithful. he just wouldn’t have time even for himself to enjoy an actual relationship, hints why he couldn’t be tie down.

but if he could, oh he would.

this is the same man who yearned for his best friend who he only ever had in his high school years. Barely even two years, and managed to try and follow behind the one and only person he ever felt a real, raw connection towards to.

he wouldn’t need to be pampered financially. If anything, he wanted to be showered in affection. He was weak for your kisses, how delicate and soft your lips usually were, how the two of you cuddled up together and the amount of attention you give him. Even if it was barely a minute.

he would be hopelessly devoted to you. He could give you his own beating heart to you if he could. Even the strongest could be weak. He would kiss the feet you walk on, not physically— or maybe. Satoru cares too much. Even if he never shows it, he find himself loving more than he should. And even with his doubts and his own fears of committing as well as loving, he will still find himself loving you. even if he forced himself to try and tell himself he was better off alone.

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a small lil note on gojo thoughts lololol . tired of the cheating scenarios of my king who would probably yearn even in the next lifetime

𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 - 𝘀𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘂 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼

sypnosis. your dreams with Satoru coming to an end after the 'shinjuku showdown' fight aftermath.

contents. hurt/no comfort, canon-typical violence, blood, major character death, emotional distress, angst, fiancé!gojo.

word count. 1k

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Life had a way for screwing him over.

When Satoru Gojo thought about death, he brushed it off. The strongest can’t die, he used to say. Almost thinking it as some sort of joke or an insult towards him. He believed—deep down—that he’d be the one sorcerer to walk away without regrets. Or at least, that he’d be exempt from them.

But after the fight with Sukuna in Shinjuku on December 24th, 2018?

He realized just how wrong he was.

Even after declaring victory, he didn’t quite expect Sukuna to stop right there and then. One second of letting his guard down was all it took. One second to cost him everything.

There’s so much blood. The metallic scent hangs heavy in the air as Satoru lies on the ground he once fought beneath—his body in two halves, cleaved straight through his Infinity. He’s barely conscious now, slipping in and out. Something he never thought would happen. Not to him.

Everything hurts. God, he forgot just how bad this felt ever since his fight with Toji Fushiguro. His one and only slip up, he thought. It was almost like deja vu for the man. But not hurting as much as seeing you cry.

When he hears your voice tremble—*“I just got you back”—*something in him became aware of something he hadn’t realize yet. All this time, putting work above, rushing for the thrill of not only fighting but his goals as well made him realize it wasn’t just him being affected, but everyone else who admired him.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, voice raw and fragile. Even speaking hurts.

Years.

Months of finally having peace. Of holding your hand without fear. Of knowing you were his, and he was yours. Of talking about wedding venues and late-night takeout. And now—just like that—it was all crumbling.

You told yourself you wouldn’t cry. No. You shouldn’t cry.

He was going to make it.

He had to.

But the more blood you saw, the more you saw his eyes flutter closed, the more that belief began to feel like a fantasy.

You had just gotten him back.

You were just about to get married.

You were finally building the life you dreamed of.

You shook your head, rejecting his apology. “It’s okay. Really, it’s okay…” you whispered, your voice nearly breaking. You stood at his side, frozen. Paralyzed. You didn’t care who was watching—his students, Shoko—it didn’t matter. You were more vulnerable than ever, and all you could see was him.

Then he asked if you were mad at him. Even now, even like this, he was worried about your feelings. About where you stood. About hurting you. “No… no, don’t say that…” you mumbled, finally stepping forward to take his hand. Your outfit was soaked in blood—his blood. Your eyes were red, your face flushed. You looked like a mess, but none of it mattered.

You wanted everyone to see what had been done to him.

To feel even a fraction of what you and Satoru felt.

His eyes drooped again, and panic set in. Was time running out already? “I’m not mad. I’ll never be mad,” you sniffled. Your voice cracked again. Even through every fight, every harsh word, your devotion never wavered. Satoru managed a weak smile, relief softening his battered face. Pain rippled through him as he leaned into your touch. His eyes fluttered closed, and a shallow, rattling breath escaped him. Speaking was getting harder.

When his gaze met yours again, it faltered. You were covered in his blood. You looked completely broken. “You don’t… have to see me like this…” he whispered. The words were barely air. But you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“I love you.”

It was time.

Those words had waited too long. Always there, always understood—but never said. They weren’t casual words. Not for you. They carried weight. Meaning.

Real. Serious.

That’s why he looked so shocked.

“I love you, Satoru Gojo,” you said again, firmer this time. Your voice wavered, but it was clear.

If he wasn't in his current state, he would've probably taken that statement as a joke to deflect the tension between them. But Satoru couldn't deny the sincerity of your words, and the emotion behind them made his heart ache. For the first time in a long time, he felt vulnerable, even if he was close to death.

He squeezed your hand—weakly, but with intent. His lips parted, trying to reply, but his throat clenched. No words came.

You didn’t need them. Not really.

“I will always love you,” you whispered.

You wanted to hear it back—just once. But you didn’t ask. You wouldn’t put that weight on him. Not now.

Leaning down, you kissed him.

A soft kiss. Gentle. Barely there.

It felt like your first kiss—right outside Jujutsu High. The day when you two finally became teachers, you two also confessed to one another. The sun had been warm, and despite being adults, you’d giggled like kids.

You pulled away, lips stained in his blood, and studied his face. Your love had always been complicated. Messy. Raw. But he never doubted you. You never doubted him.

Unspoken, but always understood.

You were already thinking back.

Your first mission.

Your first kiss.

Your first time.

Your first date.

Your first everything.

You remembered the quiet talks about a future. About family. About souvenirs from the missions he will have outside of the country as a makeup. Sharing strawberry cake after midnight when you two had cravings. Making Kikufuku—his favorite—and making a disaster of your kitchen.

And then came the regret.

Not the big things.

The little ones.

Regretting the times you scolded him over trivial things.

Regretting not buying that stupid cake he nagged you about all day.

Regretting the times you said, “Not today,” when he wanted to hang out.

Regretting not savoring every single second—even though you thought you had. Because it’s always the littlest things that stay with you when you’re losing someone. The things you thought you’d always have. But you weren’t the only one with regrets.

His?

He didn’t do enough.

He worries—despite all his strength—that nothing truly changed. That the higher-ups will keep failing the next generation. That more students will die too soon. That the cycle will never end.

He should’ve done more.

He could’ve done more.

He didn’t even want to believe he was really here, bleeding out and thinking about his regrets. He wanted to laugh at himself for even thinking that way, but he couldn’t run away from it. Not anymore.

He was getting weaker. Silently he was telling himself this was really it. Fighting the urge to stay awake, his time was coming to an end. Even with death, he hadn’t felt this peaceful since the day he was born. Being the only time in his life that he was ever at peace.

The last thing Satoru feels before he closes his eyes is your kiss. And despite the pain, despite the blood and the agony— that moment where his body become unfamiliar to the feeling of comfort and relaxation—

He savors it.

He savors you.

—————————————————————————

note. this is my first time publishing on tumblr! i’ve been using my notes app as a journal and thought a small wip could be shared :). thank u xo

So you know how many of the jjk men like to tease…? Autistic reader who can’t tell they’re teasing pls 🙏🥺

Such a great concept, anon! I don't know much of autism, just that it's a spectrum, so I hope I've written this well! Also, I wasn't sure if you wanted a SMAU, so I'm just doing a regular thing <3!

JJK men x Autistic!reader

ft. Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Toji Fushiguro

TW: angst, hurt to comfort

pt. 1(?)

A/N: This isn't necesarilly autistic!reader coded, this can count for everybody! also i dunno if I'll make a second part, but we'll see.

Satoru Gojo

You were out with your boyfriend, Satoru, to a café in a more quiet part in Tokyo after a long business trip he had to take. He held your hand in his, fingers intertwining while sitting next to the other as you both looked at the menu to see what drinks and foods sparked your interest the most. You pointed at something on the menu, it was a pancake sandwhich shaped like a cat! It was absolutely adorable in your eyes, and you just had to show your boyfriend!

"Satoru, look! A pancake sandwhich shaped like a cat!"

The white haired sorcerer chuckled softly upon your excited chirping. He peered over your shoulder to see the food item that got you so excited. A little smirk formed on his lips as his sunglass-covered eyes scanned the picture

"A pancake sandwhich, huh? You're really lettin' yourself go, babycakes."

Satoru commented as he kissed your cheek. He didn't hold any malice in his tone, he was just teasing you. But to you, it felt like he thought you were gaining too much weight. You placed the menu card down, and got up. Mumbling you had to go to the bathroom. Satoru noticed the look in your eyes. But before he could ask anything, you already went to the restroom. Satoru decided to wait for you to come back, not thinking much of it. That was, until you were in the restroom for longer than usual, which made him grow concerned. He grabbed his phone, texting you.

.

"Mochi? What's taking so long?"

.

After a couple seconds, Satoru noticed you read his text, but you didn't reply. He knew you only left him on read if you were either multi-tasking or if you were mad at him. He assumed the latter.

Meanwhile, you were crying in the bathroom stall, thinking your boyfriend thought you were getting too fat for his liking. You tried to calm yourself down by playing with your rings, but it didn't help much. In the midst of your crying session, you could hear a familliar knock on the door of the women's restroom and a soft voice speaking from behind it.

"Honeybun? Are you there? Can you come out for me, please?"

You let out a shaky sigh, stepping out of the stall. You quickly washed your face and dried it with a paper towel before stepping out, avoiding your boyfriend's concerning gaze. He gently took your hand and lead you out of the cafe to a side alley before speaking

"What's wrong, sweetpea? Did something overwhelm you? You can talk with me, I'll listen"

Satoru stated, a soft smile on his lips as he tried to comfort you by rubbing a thumb over your knuckles, waiting patiently as you gathered the courage to voice your thoughts.

"Toru? Do you think I'm gaining too much weight for your liking?"

You avoided his widening gaze when the words fell from your lips. Satoru was silent for a second before speaking up, his voice soft

"What? Of course not, babycakes! You're perfect to me, so what makes ya think that?"

A lump you didn't know was in your throat got swallowed as a red blush crept on your cheeks from embarassment and endearment. Of course Satoru thought you were perfect, he always told you that. But his words just felt so mean to you..

"Well.. When we we're ordering and I showed you the pancake sandwhich, you said I was really letting myself go.."

Your boyfriend's blue eyes widened as guilt slowly filled them, he totally forgot that you had a hard time taking hints like sarcasm and teasing, taking things often too literally. He carefully wrapped his arms around you, holding you in a gentle embrace as he hid his face in your hair

"I'm so sorry, babycakes. I was just teasing you.. Didn't mean to make ya feel bad 'bout yourself.."

He mumbled, kissing the crown of your head. You hugged him back, sighing as you hid in his chest. You both stayed like that for a while until Satoru spoke up, a smile on his lips

"Cmon, babycakes. Let's go get those pancake sandwhiches. I'm starving"

It's save to say that Satoru would be trying his best to hold back his teasing comments for your own sake and self-esteem

Suguru Geto

Suguru walks after you in one of the bustling malls of Tokyo. Your boyfriend was internally disgusted by all the filfthy monkeys around you both, but he didn't let his distaste show. After all, today was supposed to be a fun shopping outing for the both of you since he has been preoccupied lately. Meanwhile, you happily gaze at the shop displays to see which shop you wanted to see first. Eventually, a cute display caught your eye. It was a beautiful layered dress with white frills at the edges. You headed towards the display and showed it to your raven-haired boyfriend

"Suguru, look how cute that dress is! Wouldn't it fit so well with my new shoes?"

Suguru switched his gaze from your beautiful face to the shopping display. He let out a soft huff, imagening you in that dress. It wasn't exactly your everyday style, but he knew you could make anything look good.

"Someone's feeling a little bold today, isn't she?"

Once those words left his mouth, you couldn't focus on what he was saying next. Did he think you wouldn't look good in it? Did he hate the dress? Was he making fun of it, of you??

Your racing thoughts distracted you from how he said you'd look good in it. Your feet simply dragged you away from the display. Suguru's eyebrows knitted together in concern as you suddenly left without a word. What happened? He couldn't tell. Your boyfriend wasted no time in following after you.

"Darling, what's wrong? I thought you said you liked the dress? Don't you want to get it?

He was met with silence, which he didn't like. He firmly grabbed your wrist, but still making sure not to hurt you.

"Sweetheart, I asked you something. The least you could do is answe-"

You suddenly pulled your hand out of his grip, telling him to leave you alone as you ran into the busy crowd. Suguru was concerned, what happened? Did he do something wrong? He honestly couldn't tell. When he tried following after you, he eventually lost you in the large crowd. Frustration and concern bubbled up inside him. The raven-haired cult leader sent out some of his smaller curses to search for you across the mall.

Meanwhile, you were infront of some sort of bookstore, panting heavily from how fast you were running. You felt like crying. Suguru's comment made you confused. He never said something like that to you, so it made you feel sad. You knew you shouldn't have just run off like that and give him an answer, but your emotions got a hold of you.

Still upset, you decided to head to a cafe across the bookstore and order yourself something to cheer yourself up. You sat on a sofa and ordered your favorite. A few minutes later, you got your drink and were about to enjoy it as much as you could until you noticed something out of the window.

It was one of Suguru's curses, jumping and pointing at you. In the distance, you could see Suguru approach. When he saw you through the cafe's window, he seemed relieved. Suguru flicked his wrist and the curse dissapeared as he made his way inside.

You sheepishly averted your gaze, your eyes filled with guilt. Suguru sat next to you and wrapped and arm around your waist, pulling you closer

"Oh, sweetheart. You're alright.."

His voice was filled with relief as he tenderly kissed your forehead before placing a hand on your soft cheek, his eyebrows still slightly furrowed.

"Why did you run away, love? What's going on? I wan't you to tell me the truth."

A sigh escaped your lips, averting your gaze as he cupped your face so tenderly. It made you feel bad about not telling him before.

"Well, when I showed you that dress, you said I was getting bold.. Do you think I'd look ugly with the dress, Sugu?"

Your boyfriend's eyebrows raised, realizing why you reacted like that so suddenly. He felt stupid now. He completely forgot you can't easily tell when someone's just teasing you.

"Oh, Y/N, I didn't mean it like that! I was just teasing you, I think you would look wonderful in that dress, my pretty girl."

Your cheeks reddened a little, feeling silly because of the way you reacted..

"I'm sorry, Sugu.. I should've told you earlier instead of acting so childish.."

Suguru smiled softly, kissing the top of your head while rubbing your back tenderly

"It's okay, pretty. 's not your fault." he mumbled, grabbing your hand in his.

"Let's go back to that store, and you can try out that dress to see for yourself how pretty you'll look, alright?"

And with a smile, you nodded. Quickly paying for your drink before walking hand-in-hand with Suguru to the shop. Guess this day will have a good end after all.

Toji Fushiguro

You and Toji had been dating for a while. You were aware of what he did, and that he wasn't always home because of it. But you didn't mind taking care of Megumi when he wasn't there, you loved the kid with your whole heart!

Today was one of those rare moments when Toji was home. Megumi was fast asleep and you two decided to have a cozy night in, watching TV. Though, you weren't really focused on the show in front of you, instead, you were talking Toji's ear off about a comic series you read with Megumi the other day. Toji listened to your every word, though it didn't look like he seemed interested, he was, really. He was happy whenever you and Megumi found something you both enjoyed, it made his heart swell despite the aloof exterior he always tried to keep.

Middle into your info-dumping session, Toji interrupted you

"Yeah, ma, sounds really interestin'. How 'bout we continue watching the movie, yeah?"

To Toji, it didn't feel like he said anything wrong, he just wanted you to also focus on the movie a little since you kept on asking him to see it. But to you it felt like he was dismissing your info-dumping. A seed of insecurity was planted into your head as the idea of Toji finding your constant chatting annoying gnawed at the back of your mind. So much to the point that you just zoned out.

Toji looked down at you, mindlessly staring into space. He waved a hand infront of you, but when you didn't react he called out to you

Eventually after the fifth time of him calling, you snapped out of your 'trance'. You looked up at Toji who seemed a little concerned

"Hey ma, y'r alright? You were kinda out of it just now"

You gulped, nodding your head while averting your eyes. You didn't feel so good, so you got up, saying you had to go to the bathroom.

Toji was a bit concerned, but he figured you just needed to wash your face or something.

So when you didn't come out the bathroom after 15 minutes, he got up and knocked on the door, being careful to not wake Megumi who was asleep down the hallway

"Everything good there, ma? You been there for a while now.."

Truth be told, everything was not good. You couldn't help overthinking about what he said, which lead to you subconsciously scratching your lower arms. You didn't hear Toji calling out for you until the door was suddenly kicked open.

There in the doorway stood Toji, who got onto his knees infront of you, holding your hands

"Hey, hey, ma. What's wrong, huh? Why y'r scratchin' yerself? Come on, talk to me, sweetheart."

You managed to look up at Toji, blinking a few times and taking some deep breaths before speaking

"It's.. It's just- God, Toji- do you think I'm.. annoying? That I.. talk too much?"

The raven haired man's eyebrows knitted together at that question, one of his hands went to caress your cheek with his thumb while the other still held your hand

"Hah? Course not, ma. What makes ya think that?"

You look down at your hands before looking back up at Toji. God, you felt so embarassed, and for what? You didn't know. You let out a shaky breath before replying

"Well.. When I was talking to you about the comics I read with Megumi the other day, it felt like you were dismissing me cause I talk to much.."

Toji let out a huff when you said that, though it wasn't one of annoyance. He gently wrapped his big arms around you, bringing you close

"I'm sorry, dollface. Didn't mean to make you feel that way. I love hearing ya talk, ma. But I wanted to have you focus on the movie 'cause you kept asking to see it with me."

That made your cheeks flush in embarassment, you hid your face into Toji's chest, mumbling apologies which earned you a gentle swat at the back of your head from Toji.

"Don't apologize, dollface. Now, how 'bout we watch the movie another time and you tell me all about those comics, yea?"

When Toji saw you nodding your head, he grinned and picked you up over his shoulder, which made you squeal in surprise. The assasin went to grab the doorknob, but then realized that he had kicked it down...

Guess you two will have to go door shopping tomorrow..

a/n: spidey reader and gojo here!! typical story where gojo is the rich popular guy and reader is a nobody but also the spidey ))

cw: a lil bit of angst, barely any violence, THE UPSIDE DOWN KISS YES ITS A WARNING AND A SPOILER UGH idc

his father had told him that it wasn’t safe for him to walk around the town without any security. and the man is probably right, because every night, as gojo lurks in the corners of news in hopes of seeing something new about the local hero who insists on being called “the spider-man”, he realises that there is a lot of bad things happening in town.

yet today he isn’t going home like he usually does; after hanging out somewhere in the city with at least on of his father’s security guards walking somewhere behind him, geto and shoko; or when he just goes straight home because he doesn’t really want to do anything. now satoru is alone, just slowly roaming around with nothing to do and free of eyes on his back, with music in his ears as the darkness falls over the city.

he feels melancholic, really calm and tries to enjoy the rare moments of being alone as much as he can. some could say it’s disrespectful and not really smart of him to lie to his father and security about his whereabouts, but he doesn’t care.

that is until he finds himself in some neighbourhood he’s never been to before. it’s a place that radically differs from where is home is (if you could call a place on top of a skyscraper with a ‘gojo inc.’ logo on it that is in one of the popular boroughs of tokyo a neighbourhood); the buildings are small, the the streets and corners are dirty and shady looking, and satoru starts feeling uncomfortable as soon as he realises that he has no idea how to go home because he wasn’t really remembering the path he used.

satoru could call his dad, but he isn’t going to do that, too proud to admit to the old man that he kinda messed up. he considers it when he spots a group of men following him, though.

it’s not long before his name is called loudly and the only thing he can do is run forward, with his heart beating in his throat as he hears the three men getting closer and closer. just as he stops at the sight of a dead end his heart stops along with him.

“didn’t expect to see you in our territory, rich boy.” says the man with a scar on the corner of his lips. satoru is pretty sure the other one in the back with snakelike eyes is ready to lunge at him at any given moment, and the one with stitches all over his face by the latter’s side looks at him as if he’s a meal.

“don’t be so unwelcoming, toji, i’m sure he came with presents! right, satoru-kun?” he somehow manages to get a hold of the boy as the snake eyes rips his bag off of him. gojo is sure he is going to get bruises because of how he struggles under the hold of the guy, but all of his instincts scream for him to run away so he tries and tries.

satoru figures they know him because of his father and the press conferences that the older gojo forced him to attend as the future heir of gojo inc. he always dreaded those days and instead tried finding some joy in the events that the companies would hold after the conferences, sneaking in geto and shoko to mess around—

before he can say anything though, there is a fifth person joining the party.

“ah-ah-ah, aren’t you guys ashamed? three against one seems a bit unfair, does it?”

satoru’s heart nearly springs out of his chest as soon as he recognises the new voice. and soon the source of the voice lands behind the three men, the shadow of their figure enhanced by the street lights. he wants to record this moment so bad juts so he can show it to geto and fangirl about how cool you are, but he is frozen into his place, still under the hold of one of the guys.

the scarred one turns around to face you and you shoot your web right into his chest, tugging him closer to land a punch on his adam’s apple, effectively knocking him down. jumping high in the air, you claim the other two with webs and land back down, making them slam down with a loud thud. they fall unconscious while the other still writhes in pain, but gojo still catches his sharp eyes on himself.

your voice brings him back, “you okay?”

he nods, readying to give his thanks to you, but you interrupt him once again.

“let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

you open your arms and motion for him to step closer.

“hope you’re not scared of heights,” you smile under the mask, wrapping your arm around his waist as he wraps both around your neck. he finds it cute how you are still smaller than him even though he’s seen you demonstrate your strength countless of times in the videos you yourself or others posted, enough to know that you can crush him easily too. “hold on tight!”

flying through the city feels even more freeing than walking around without any supervision. and the scenery changes so fast he can’t keep up; his neck hurts from looking around and his throat is sore from all the screaming(satoru forgets about your ears probably dying of overstimulation because of how loud he was screaming right into them). but you laugh along with him nonetheless, flying up on your webs and then just letting go. he grips you tighter every time you do that.

you put him down in a different neighbourhood and he looks around deliriously, trying to find you. he can see the gojo inc. from his spot so he figures he now has an alibi for where he was all day, and satoru also figures that you probably know him if you chose this spot.

but he doesn’t really care about that; adrenaline is still pumping through him and excitement glimmers in his eyes as he saves the previous moments in his brain, still looking for you. you aren’t gonna leave without a goodbye, right?

turning around with a sigh, he is met with your masked self, hanging upside down from the staircase.

“you shouldn’t be walking alone in those places when it’s this late.”

“were you stalking me?” satoru grins widely, stepping closer to you.

“i was just in the neighbourhood,” you shrug a little awkwardly, giggling. “as i always am. y’know, friendly neighbourhood spider-man and all.”

satoru chuckles, expression softening, “you’re amazing.”

“not everyone thinks so,” satoru remembers people in local interviews and police calling you a vigilante and a nuisance, with reasonings such as ‘there is no need to rob police of their work’(well if police did their work there wouldn’t— shut up, satoru) and ‘i don’t feel protected by a spider looking thing’ (geto, that’s so dumb though! oh my god) and so on.

“well, i think that you’re amazing and incredible and i really admire you.”

your masks’ eyes widen in surprise and you nod in gratitude, looking away from. but your gaze is back on him when he steps a little too close to, so close his eyes are on the level of your chin and lips. that gives satoru an idea.

“i want to show you how grateful i am,” his twitching fingers ghost over your neck, looking for the seam of your mask. “can i?”

“i don’t think it’s a good idea…”

but satoru doesn’t listen, swallowing visibly before he slowly tugs off your mask, revealing skin until he reaches your nose. he is already doing something out of line, he has to appreciate the fact that you’re even letting him this close and not punching him in the face.

your lips look pretty, he notes, pretty enough for him to lean in and plant his over them.

so soft and plump, he sucks on your lower lip, tugging it back a little just to feel you lean forward, catching his lips and him off guard. a smile appears on his face as he caresses the sides of your face, your jaw and neck, but he has to pull away to let both of you breathe.

his breathing is deep and heave, eyes still focused on your lips, thinking of tasting them once again, but you don’t let him, nudging his chin with your nose as if bringing him back to reality.

satoru places a final kiss on your jaw and pulls back, not forgetting to fix your mask.

“you should give me your number.”

you laugh sweetly, shaking your head, “i’ll see you again, pretty.” and leap off, leaving him alone to calm down his burning body.

only 38 missed calls from his dad manage to cool him down, his blood literally running cold at the realisation of what’s waiting for him at home.

⋆˚✿˖° ❝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

⋆˚✿˖° ❝𝗜𝘁 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗱𝗲𝗱❞ ⋆˚✿˖°

────୨ৎ────

Gojo Satoru X reader

Geto Suguru X reader

────୨ৎ────

3. Men who listen to mitski

The way this took so much effort because i wanted a funny chronically online scene for the reader but then remembered it was 2006 and had re write like half of it

if you missed the last chapters —>masterlist

₍^. .^₎⟆ The next day, you found yourself training with Gojo, as usual. The air was thick with the sound of shuriken slicing through the air, but something was off. Gojo’s movements weren’t as fluid as usual, his energy wasn’t as contagious.

“You’re a little off today,” you commented, narrowly dodging a sudden flurry of shuriken that came your way. You grinned, trying to keep the atmosphere light, but it was clear something wasn’t right.

He flashed you a grin, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Am I? Maybe you’re just slow today,” he replied, his voice teasing, but there was a strange sharpness to it that made you furrow your brow.

You took a step back, studying him carefully. This wasn’t the usual Gojo. The playful tone that usually had you laughing was gone, replaced by something more… tense. But you didn’t want to focus on it. You were here to train, not to try and read his mood.

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked, trying to keep things casual.

Gojo didn’t answer. Instead, his grin morphed into something more teasing, his eyes glinting with a strange intensity. “So, last night… you had fun with Geto, huh?” he asked, voice casual, but the words cut sharper than they should’ve.

You blinked, surprised. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gojo shrugged, his expression light, but there was a tension in the air that you couldn’t ignore. “Oh, nothing,” he said. “Just noticed the jacket. You two seemed… cozy.” His grin was still in place, but there was something more biting about it now.

Your stomach tightened. That was the second time he’d mentioned Geto today. You didn’t know what was going on, but it didn’t sit right with you. “It’s just a jacket,” you said, trying to laugh it off.

His eyes narrowed, and the playful façade slipped for just a moment, revealing a flash of something deeper something that made you uncomfortable. “Hmm. Sure. But you know, you could’ve asked for my jacket. I thought we were closer. Guess I was wrong,” he muttered, almost to himself.

You felt a knot form in your chest. What was this? Why was Gojo acting like this? You weren’t even sure what was going on between you and Geto, but it didn’t feel like you’d done anything wrong. Yet, Gojo was making you feel like you had.

The next barrage of shuriken came at you, and you barely dodged in time. One grazed your shoulder, and you winced, irritation bubbling up. You tried to shake it off and focus on the fight. “Are you gonna keep throwing these until you get it out of your system?” you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady despite the unease creeping up your spine.

Gojo tilted his head, his eyes sharp. “What, are you mad?” His tone was light, but there was an edge to it now. “I just didn’t expect you to be all… buddy-buddy with him. It’s cute though, you two matching. Really sweet.”

You gritted your teeth, frustration flooding in. “What’s your problem, Gojo?”

“My problem?” He threw another shuriken at you, sharper, faster than the others. “You’re my problem. You—” He stopped himself, clearly realizing too late he’d said something more than he’d meant to. “You know what? Never mind. Just keep dodging.”

Another barrage came at you, but you avoided them with ease, though your patience was starting to wear thin. You weren’t going to let him throw you off track, but you could feel the growing tension between you.

“Gojo,” you began again, trying to force some calm into your voice, “What’s going on with you today?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he just stood there, his usual nonchalance slowly returning, but it was forced, like he was trying too hard to keep up the front. “Nothing,” he muttered, his tone flat. “I’m just messing with you. Nothing’s going on.”

You narrowed your eyes, seeing through the cracks in his mask. There was something he wasn’t saying, and it was frustrating the hell out of you. “Look,” you said, taking a deep breath, “If you’ve got an issue with me or with Geto, just say it. I’m not gonna guess at what you’re thinking.”

Gojo flashed you that signature grin, the one that always made you feel like everything was fine, like nothing was too serious, but this time it felt like he wasn’t trying to comfort you “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m just here to make you sweat. Keep up.”

But there was no real challenge in his voice anymore. His movements were slow, almost lazy, and you could tell he wasn’t really pushing you anymore. He was holding back, but you had no idea why.

The frustration was bubbling up inside you, a sense of unease you couldn’t shake. “Don’t give me that. You’ve never acted like this before.” You stepped forward, trying to keep your tone steady, but it was hard with the emotions swirling. “So, what’s going on, Gojo? Why are you acting like this?”

For a moment, Gojo’s grin faltered, just barely, before he quickly masked it with another casual shrug. “Nothing,” he repeated. “I’m just messing with you.”

You stood there for a moment, unsure whether to push further or to drop it. The problem was, you couldn’t drop it, not when you could see something shifting beneath the surface. You had no idea if it was jealousy, frustration, or something else entirely, but something was off, and it wasn’t just with him.

You bit your lip, trying to push the sinking feeling down. Maybe today wasn’t the day for answers, but you knew Gojo had something on his mind.

Then, just as you were about to take another step, you felt the sharp sting from your shoulder, the spot where the shuriken had grazed you earlier. You winced, holding your arm as you glanced at Gojo. He noticed, immediately dropping his teasing demeanor and stepping forward.

“Hey,” he said, his tone suddenly soft, all traces of the previous tension gone. “Let me see.” His voice was unexpectedly gentle, and you could hear the concern, even though he was trying to hide it.

You hesitated for a second before pulling your hand away, letting him check the cut. Gojo gently ran his fingers over the wound, his touch surprisingly careful. His usual cocky grin had disappeared, replaced by a quiet intensity as he inspected it.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his brow furrowed slightly.

You shook your head, a little stunned by the sudden shift. “It’s fine, Gojo. It’s just a scratch.”

He didn’t seem convinced, still looking at the injury like it was more serious than it was. “Still,” he muttered, “don’t want you hurt, okay?” he lets out a small sigh “especially by me.”

You watched him, confused by the sudden change in mood. A second ago, he’d been throwing jabs at you, both literal and verbal and now here he was, tending to you like it was nothing.

You tried to read him, but Gojo’s face was a mask again, the playful grin returning even if it didn’t quite match his eyes. “cmon let’s get it wrapped up,” he said, his tone returning to its usual cocky cadence.

You stayed silent for a moment, trying to piece everything together. But Gojo didn’t seem to want to dive any deeper. He gave you one last look, and you could almost hear the unsaid words in the air between you, but he turned away quickly, dragging you without another word.

You followed, still holding your shoulder, the weight of everything left unsaid hanging heavily in the air.

—

a few years previously

It was a warm summer afternoon, the sun casting a golden glow over the playground where you and Gojo had spent countless hours together since childhood. The two of you were sprawled out on the grass, the faint smell of fresh cut grass mixing with the summer air. You lay side by side, heads tilted back, eyes staring up at the sky, watching the clouds drift lazily by.

“Hey, remember when we used to pretend we were superheroes?” Gojo asked, his voice light, as if it was just yesterday that you both had made up all kinds of ridiculous adventures.

You chuckled, turning your head to look at him. “Yeah, and you always insisted on being the most powerful one, even when I was clearly the more strategic one.”

He shot you a teasing grin, his white hair falling messily across his forehead. “Well I am the most powerful so I had to be the strong one. You needed someone to protect you.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Please, I was always the one saving you. You had no idea how to plan. I was the brains of the operation.”

Gojo laughed, the sound carefree, like it always was when the two of you were together. “Fine, fine. You were the brains, and I was the muscle.”

“Yeah, I can’t fight you on that one,” you agreed, smiling softly.

The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence, the memories of childhood games and adventures playing in your mind like a movie you couldn’t stop watching. It felt strange to think about how things were about to change, how high school would be the next step for both of you, separating you from the simplicity of these carefree days.

“Hey, you think we’ll still hang out after we start high school?” Gojo asked suddenly, his voice quieter now, like he was considering something a little more serious than usual.

You shifted, propping yourself up on one elbow to look at him more closely. “Of course we will,” you said with confidence, though part of you was unsure, a little nervous. “We’ve been close since we were little. That’s not going to change just because we go to high school.”

Gojo turned his head to face you, his blue eyes unusually soft. “Yeah, but what if everyone else is… different? What if we’re not as close as we were?”

You smiled, giving him a small, reassuring nudge. “Gojo, we’ve always been close. No matter what happens, that’s not going to change. We’re always going to be us.”

He smiled back, a little brighter this time, though there was a flicker of uncertainty behind his eyes that only you seemed to catch. “Yeah. You’re right.”

You both lay back down, your fingers brushing for a moment before you settled into the grass again, the sound of the wind in the trees the only noise filling the space between you. It was moments like these that made you feel like time would never move forward, like nothing could ever pull the two of you apart.

As you both lay there, it was clear, no matter what high school would bring, you and Gojo would always be close. That bond was unshakable. And even as life would change, as it always did, you knew that it would never quite change the way you felt when you were together.

—

After practice, the tension that had settled between you and Gojo still lingered, but it was quieter now, more subdued. The usual spark in his eyes was a little dimmer, his usual cocky grin tucked away. “Hey,” Gojo finally spoke, breaking the quiet, though his voice wasn’t as playful as usual. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You’re apologizing now?”

He shrugged, running a hand through his messy white hair. “I don’t know. Just… being a little much today, I guess. Got in my own head for no reason.”

You glanced at him, still unsure what was going on. “You’ve been weird since practice. What happened?”

Gojo sighed, glancing ahead as if unsure how to explain himself. “I don’t know. Maybe I just didn’t like how things were last night. With Geto, I mean. I wasn’t mad, but… I guess I felt a little weird about it.”

You blinked, trying to piece it together. “Weird how? You think I did something wrong?”

“No, no, not that,” Gojo said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s just that you two seemed so… comfortable. It’s like I wasn’t part of the picture, y’know?” He stopped walking for a second, looking at the ground like he was thinking it over. “I guess I just got a little insecure about it, but that’s on me, not you.”

The confession hung in the air, and for a moment, you were silent, letting it sink in. “You don’t need to worry about that. I mean, we’re all friends, right? Geto and I… we were just talking. Nothing more.”

Gojo’s eyes softened slightly, and he nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know. It was dumb. But sometimes I get caught up in my own head, and things just get weird. I don’t want to make things uncomfortable.”

You smiled gently, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s fine. Just don’t go making assumptions, okay? If something’s bothering you, just talk to me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Gojo flashed a small smile at that, but it wasn’t his usual smirk. It was quieter, more thoughtful. “Yeah. I guess I need to stop overthinking stuff.”

You both continued walking, the silence between you now more comfortable. “So, are we good now?” you asked, breaking the quiet again.

Gojo nodded. “Yeah, we’re good. I’ll try not to be such a pain in the ass next time.”

You laughed softly, nudging him with your elbow. “Just don’t be a jerk. That’s all I ask.”

He grinned then, the familiar playful glint returning to his eyes, though it was tempered with something more sincere now. “Deal. But you know you love me anyway.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Sure, sure. You’re my idiot.”

Gojo chuckled, the tension between you now feeling like a distant memory. “Yeah, and I’m fine with that.”

The two of you continued walking, The day had just started and nobody like gojo could make you feel so much in such little time.

—————

Shoko Ieiri never asked to be the unwilling audience to whatever tragic, slow burn, one sided romantic drama her two idiot best friends were trying to pull off. But alas, here she was in the front row seat to the disaster. So let’s present a four part mini opera of watching a dumpster fire puke out babies.

Act One:

It was another regular morning at Jujutsu High. The classroom was quiet, everyone minding their business, trying to get through the day without anything too ridiculous happening. Wishful thinking. Because on the other side of the room, Y/n was drumming their pencil against the desk, humming a tune.

Gojo leaned in, ever so smooth, flashing his usual grin. “Hey, Y/n, what do you say we grab lunch together? Just the two of us?”

Ah, there it was. The daily delusion. Shoko sighed, resting her chin in her palm, waiting for the inevitable crash and burn.

Y/n turned, their face with confusion, not with realization, but pure, innocent excitement. “Gojo, don’t we all eat lunch together everyday? that’s like a no brainer.”

Gojo’s grin faltered for half a second before he recovered. “…Yeah… sure, whatever. You’re just so fun to be around, Y/n. It’s never a harm to ask” He threw in a wink, as if that was going to help.

Shoko took a slow sip from her water bottle . Pathetic. Then looking at her bottle, the stickers all plastered were from you every time you go out to the city in tokyo. You always bring back one for her

Looking back up you were already turning away to her direction. “Hey, Shoko, did you watch that episode of Nana I was telling you about? It was so good!”

Gojo blinked. Shoko stared.

Amazing. That was a direct hit. Instant death. No jujutsu technique needed.

Gojo slumped over his desk, muttering something about how he was right there and you could talk about that show with him while Shoko just smirked. This was getting entertaining.

Act Two:

Between classes, everyone filtered through the hallways, chatting, stretching, or plotting how to sneak past Yaga’s next lecture. But Shoko? She was once again a reluctant bystander to whatever foolishness Geto was about to attempt.

Geto, the smooth talker, slid in with an almost dramatic tone. “So, there’s this new café that opened up downtown. Maybe we could check it out later today? I’m know you’d love the desserts.”

Now, a normal person would recognize this for what it was, an invitation, a clear attempt at spending time together, possibly even a date.

Y/n was not a normal person.

“Oh! I love desserts! But—” They suddenly stopped, looking deep in thought. “Oh! I still have some cookies left from last week’s batch. I should probably finish those before they get stale.”

Geto blinked, his calculated charm thrown completely off course. “Uh, yeah. I guess that would be a smart thing to do.”

Shoko stifled a laugh. Geto, you absolute fool. You thought you were different?

He tried again, nudging them slightly. “But if you do decide to ditch the cookies, I’ll happily accompany you”

Y/n grinned. “That sounds fun, but I really do love my cookies.”

And there it is. Another fatality.

Geto sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Right, right…”

Act Three:

By the afternoon, the four of them had gathered in the courtyard, basking in the rare moment of peace before things inevitably went to hell again. Shoko, once again, sat back to enjoy the train wreck unfold.

Gojo tried first. “So, I was thinking… We could go out for ice cream later. Just the two of us.”

A good attempt. Direct, casual. Maybe this time?

“Ice cream? Oh, that sounds fun!” Y/n nodded, and for a brief moment, hope glimmered in Gojo’s eyes. But then.

“Though I should probably focus on dinner first. Maybe I should stop by the store later for ingredients.”

Gojo smiled, but it was strained. “Yeah… sure, ingredients for dinner.” He shot Geto a please, I’m dying here look, but Geto only shrugged.

Geto leaned in, voice smooth as always. “Honestly, you should just let me take you out to dinner instead. We know by now I know all the best spots. No need to worry about cooking.”

Y/n blinked before smiling. “Oh! That’s so sweet of you, Geto! But, I swear, I’m so bad at picking good places”

Here it comes, Shoko thought, already knowing where this was headed.

“—Like, I thought that noodle place last week was a great idea, and then it was super salty, and—”

Geto chuckled, exasperated. “Yeah, well, that’s why I said i’ll just take you to the best places. No more bad decisions.”

“Wow, you’re are so thoughtful!” Y/n beamed. “Maybe we should all go together, huh? That would be fun!”

Gojo and Geto exchanged a silent look.

They’re not gonna make it.

Shoko sighed, tossing her cigarette away.

Act Four:

Later that afternoon, everyone was gathered at the training grounds, but the real battle had nothing to do with cursed techniques. It was the ongoing war of Will she ever take a hint?

Spoiler: No.

Gojo leaned toward Geto, whispering, “This is getting ridiculous. I should just straight up ask.”

Geto sighed. “Nah. If she’s not getting it now, she never will. just need to wait for the perfect moment.”

Meanwhile, Y/n practically skipped past them, grinning. “Hey, Gojo, Geto! After training, you wanna come watch me try this new recipe I found? I bet it’ll be fun!”

Gojo and Geto exchanged yet another defeated glance before sighing in unison.

Shoko exhaled, flicking her lighter open and shut. Idiots. All of them. But at least it was entertaining.

Maybe one day they’d figure it out.

…Probably not.

—-

The sun beginning to set as you and Geto found yourselves finishing up with the day’s training. Most of the students had already scattered, and Gojo had disappeared to God knows where, leaving just you and Geto alone in the training grounds.

You were still bouncing around with that same vibrant energy, talking about all sorts of things, mostly food, as usual. Geto watched you for a moment, a smirk on his lips. He had tried so many times to ask you out subtly, to flirt here and there, but you were always too distracted by something else, too bubbly to catch the hints.

He sighed softly, running a hand through his black hair. It wasn’t that he wasn’t enjoying your company, it was exactly the opposite. You were easy to be around, your endless energy infectious, and his patience had reached its limit.

You turned to him, noticing the way he was looking at you. “What’s up, Geto? You look like you’re thinking hard about something.”

He took a step closer, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made you blink in surprise. “Alright, enough of this.” He said it bluntly, no more jokes or subtle hints. “Listen, you and I are making ramen tonight. Just us. No Gojo, no distractions. We’re doing this.”

You tilted your head, completely oblivious to the seriousness in his voice. “Ramen? Ooh, sounds fun! Wait, do you mean like, together together?” You asked, your enthusiasm growing.

Geto felt a small chuckle bubble up. “Yeah, together together.” He mimicked your tone, feeling a little ridiculous at how long he’d been trying to get you to notice the actual intentions behind his words. “Just the two of us. We’re cooking. No interruptions.”

It finally clicked. He could see the sparkle in your eyes as your face lit up. “Oh! That sounds amazing! I love making ramen! We can make it super spicy, and I’ll bring the snacks!!”

He paused, staring at you for a moment as the realization hit him: Maybe he had been going about it all wrong. You weren’t the kind of person who needed subtlety or flirty comments to catch on. No, you needed directness.

“Exactly,” Geto said, a little more softly, his usual teasing smile playing on his lips. “Just you and me. No distractions. We’ll make the perfect ramen.”

You bounced on your heels, the excitement in your voice palpable. “Yes! I’m so down. Let’s make it a fun night! I promise I’ll keep the kitchen mess to a minimum… well, mostly.” You laughed, already imagining how the night would go.

Geto shook his head fondly, a warm smile finally tugging at his lips. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

As the two of you walked off together to gather ingredients, he couldn’t help but feel a bit lighter. Maybe it wasn’t about trying so hard to get your attention. Maybe it was just about spending time together, letting things unfold naturally. Tonight was a start, at least.

And as you skipped ahead, chattering excitedly about ramen, Geto’s heart did something strange, something he hadn’t quite expected. Maybe this was the way to get closer to you after all.

—-

The quiet hum of the city outside was drowned out by the bubbling broth on the stove and your excited rambling about spice levels.

Suguru found himself watching you more than actually cooking. You were fully in your element, tossing ingredients into the pot with reckless confidence, tasting as you went, adjusting flavors with an enthusiasm that made him smile.

He wasn’t sure when it had started, this thing where he always tried to pull your attention toward him. maybe it was when he first laid his eye on you. He could never tell. Being around you warped his sense of composure Maybe it was back when Gojo first took an interest in you loud, obnoxious, and always draped over your shoulder, demanding your attention.

Suguru had done the same, in his own way. Casual compliments, lingering glances, even slipping little jokes into conversations that only you would catch. But no matter what, you never seemed to pick up on it. If Gojo did the exact same thing, you just laughed, played along, as if it was all part of the game.

Had you ever noticed that Suguru was trying just as hard? That he had been fighting for your attention this whole time?

“Suguru,” your voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. You were holding a ladle out to him, expectantly. “Taste test.”

He blinked, then leaned down, taking a careful sip. The broth was rich, spicy, just a little too much heat but that was exactly how you liked it.

You grinned at him. “Good, right?”

He licked his lips, letting the flavor settle before nodding. “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

Your grin widened as you turned back to the stove, humming to yourself.

Suguru exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. Maybe all this time, he had been making things too complicated. Maybe it wasn’t about trying to win your attention over Gojo’s, or proving something to himself. Maybe it was just about moments like this standing next to you, cooking together, existing in a space that was just yours.

He reached over, plucking a noodle from the pot before you could swat his hand away.

“Hey!” You huffed, glaring playfully. “Patience, Geto.”

He smirked, chewing as he leaned against the counter. “I’ve been patient for a long time.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was warmth in your expression. “Well, it’s paying off now, isn’t it?”

Suguru paused. Then, a slow, genuine smile spread across his face. Yeah. Maybe it was.

—

Suguru smirked as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he watched you fuss over the ramen. The way you were talking fast paced, slightly dramatic, and full of over the top confidence reminded him of someone else.

“You know,” he said casually, “I’m starting to think that when Gojo isn’t around, you just turn into a mini version of him.”

You froze mid-stir, turning to face him with an exaggerated gasp. “Excuse me?”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “Think about it. You get loud, overly confident, and act like you’re the star of the show. Sound familiar?”

You pointed the ladle at him, scandalized. “I do not act like Satoru.”

Suguru chuckled. “You literally just did the dramatic gasp he does whenever someone insults him.”

Your mouth opened to argue, but then you paused, replaying your own reaction in your head. A look of horror crossed your face. “Oh my God.”

“There it is,” Suguru teased, laughing. “Acceptance is the first step.”

You groaned, dramatically slumping against the counter. “This is terrible. I can’t be like him! I have dignity!”

“Uh huh.” Suguru rolled his eyes. “Keep telling yourself that.”

You grumbled under your breath as you went back to stirring the ramen. “I don’t even wear ugly sunglasses like he does.”

“Yet.”

You whipped around and flicked a droplet of broth at him, making him dodge back with a laugh.

“This is slander,” you huffed, but there was amusement in your eyes. “I’m way cooler than Satoru.”

Suguru hummed, pretending to think. “Eh. Debatable.”

You scoffed, shoving him lightly. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here I am, spending my night with you instead of doing literally anything else.”

You paused at that, blinking up at him. Suguru realized a second too late how genuine that had sounded.

You tilted your head. “Is that your way of saying you like spending time with me?”

Suguru clicked his tongue, turning back to the counter to hide his face. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, mini Satoru.”

You snorted, bumping his shoulder before going back to the ramen. “Whatever you say. Regular boring sized Suguru”

He sighed, shaking his head but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips.

He wasn’t sure why, but something about this moment felt… different. The usual teasing from Gojo was absent, no one else was around to interrupt, and for once, he had your attention all to himself.

“You keep staring,” you said suddenly, not looking up from the pot.

Suguru blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah? Maybe I just like watching you cook.”

You snorted, finally glancing at him. “You’re just waiting for me to mess something up, aren’t you?”

“Now why would I do that?” He grinned, but the truth was, he hadn’t even thought about the mess you were inevitably going to make. His mind had been too preoccupied with something else something he hadn’t quite figured out how to say yet.

You waved a hand at him. “Okay, okay, taste test round two.” You scooped up a bit of broth and held the spoon out. “Be honest.”

Suguru leaned in, lips brushing the spoon as he took a slow sip. Your eyes were locked on him, waiting expectantly.

“…It’s good.”

“That’s it?” You frowned, tilting your head. “Just ‘good’?”

Suguru held back a chuckle. “It’s really good.”

You beamed. “That’s better.”

Silence settled for a moment, broken only by the occasional bubbling of the pot. Suguru knew he should say something should bring up the fact that he wasn’t here just because of the ramen, that he wasn’t just tagging along for fun. But the words felt… stuck.

He’d spent so long trying to get you to notice him, to see him the way he saw you. But Gojo was always there, taking up space, making everything a competition. Suguru had been competing without even realizing it.

Maybe it wasn’t a competition at all. Maybe it was just this.

“You’re thinking really hard about something again,” you pointed out, nudging him with your elbow. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Suguru scoffed. “Very funny.”

“I am funny,” you shot back before turning back to the stove, humming to yourself.

Suguru hesitated, then reached out, lightly tugging at the sleeve of your uniform.

You blinked, looking up at him in confusion. “What?”

For once, Suguru didn’t try to be subtle.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

You tilted your head. “thank you? what do you mean”

He chuckled. “for… being yourself. with me, I’m glad it’s just us.”

Your expression softened, and for a moment, Suguru thought just maybe you finally understood what he meant.

You smiled. “Me too.”

And for now, that was enough.

You and Geto leaned back in your chairs, full and satisfied after your surprisingly successful attempt at making ramen. The kitchen was a complete disaster, a few stray noodles on the floor, and broth splashed in places you definitely didn’t remember spilling it

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you grinned. “Okay, I’m not gonna lie… that might’ve been one of the best meals I’ve had in a while.”

Geto stretched his arms behind his head, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. “I’ll admit, I’m impressed. This turned out better than I expected. Though… I’m still not sure how I feel about all the weird internet jokes you kept throwing in.”

You gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? Those are top tier. Don’t act like you didn’t laugh when I said, ‘I like turtles.’”

“I laughed because it was random,” he said, shaking his head, though amusement flickered in his eyes. “Honestly, I’m starting to think you spend too much time online.”

You scoffed. “Hey, just because you don’t appreciate the beauty of Charlie the Unicorn doesn’t mean I have a problem.”

Geto groaned. “That was disturbing. You made me watch a video about a unicorn getting its kidney stolen.”

“It’s iconic,” you corrected. “If you don’t know about Charlie, You don’t deserve the internet at all”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s kinda the goal.”

You shook your head in mock disappointment. “Wow. So you’re telling me you don’t even check MySpace every day?”

“Nope.”

You gasped again. “You don’t even… wait, do you even have a MySpace?”

Geto smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Oh my God. You don’t, do you?” You pointed at him. “You’re a MySpace hater.”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t say I hate it. I just don’t see the point of telling the whole world my favorite song and ranking my friends.”

“You are so lucky we made good ramen, or else I’d be rethinking this friendship.”

He shrugged, completely unbothered. “I’ll live.”

You slumped dramatically in your chair. “This is honestly tragic. You probably don’t even know about ‘Peanut Butter Jelly Time.’”

Geto rolled his eyes, but he was clearly holding back a laugh. “I know about it. And I regret knowing about it.”

“You just have no taste,” you said with a grin, finishing off the last bit of broth in your bowl. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to educate you properly. By the end of this year, you’ll be quoting ‘The End of the World’ without even realizing it.”

He gave you a side glance. “If that happens, I need you to know that it’s entirely your fault.”

“Obviously,” you said proudly.

Geto shook his head, his smirk softening. “Still, I gotta admit… all this internet nonsense? It makes you you.”

You paused, stomach flipping slightly at the unexpected sincerity in his tone.

“Wow,” you teased, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. “You’re getting all sentimental on me now?”

He shrugged. “Just telling the truth.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You’re still insufferable.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning a little softer. “You love it.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “If you say so. But I’m still not forgiving you for all that slander against early internet culture.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find some way to get back at me,” Geto said, moving to clear the dishes like it was no big deal. “But for now, I’ll give you the win. The ramen was good.”

You leaned back in your chair, watching him. “You’re not half bad yourself, you know.”

He met your gaze, smiling in that quiet, knowing way of his. “Maybe next time, I’ll teach you how to cook something special. Not just ramen.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You just wanna flex your superior cooking skills.”

“Maybe,” he said with a wink as he rinsed his bowl. “Or maybe I just like spending time with you.”

Your heart did a weird little flip. He didn’t even seem to realize what he’d just said, but it hit you harder than you expected.

You blinked, covering it up with an easy smirk. “Oh? And here I thought I was the one keeping things interesting.”

He shot you a teasing look over his shoulder. “You do. That’s why I keep coming back.”

But then, with a final chuckle, Geto turned back to the sink, and the moment passed. You exhaled, pushing yourself up to help him clean. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you have this one.”

“Good,” he said with that infuriatingly smug smile. “You know I don’t like to lose.”

You rolled your eyes, but your grin stayed put. now busy packing away the leftovers from your ramen experiment, the kitchen finally settling into some semblance of order after the chaos of cooking. Humming to yourself, you scraped the last of the broth into a container, already thinking about what to do next.

“Hey,” you called over your shoulder, “we should have a movie night. You, me, Gojo, and Shoko. It’ll be fun.”

At the sink, Geto let out a small, barely audible sigh as he wiped down the counter. It was so subtle you almost missed it, but something about the way his shoulders tensed made you glance over at him. He didn’t say anything, just kept scrubbing at an already clean spot like it had personally offended him.

“Movie night?” you repeated, a little softer now. “It’s been a while since we all hung out. We can watch something dumb like She’s the Man or Napoleon Dynamite, just eat snacks and chill.”

Another pause. This time, you caught the way his jaw tensed before he exhaled.

“You in?” you asked, tilting your head, trying to read him.

“Yeah, sounds great,” he replied, but his voice was flat, and when he put the dishcloth down, he did it with way too much care like he was making an effort not to be rough with it.

Something was definitely off.

You smiled at him anyway, hoping to lighten the mood. “Awesome! I’ll text everyone and see what they wanna watch.”

Grabbing your phone, you started typing, but you kept sneaking glances at Geto. He had moved to the fridge now, but instead of grabbing anything, he just stared inside like it would tell him what to do next. His fingers tapped idly against the door, and his expression was distant, like he wasn’t really present.

You hesitated before speaking again. “Hey,” you said gently, “are you okay?”

He blinked, snapping out of whatever thought had him distracted. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Just tired.”

You didn’t entirely believe him, but you also didn’t want to push. Instead, you softened your approach. “too much ramen?”

He gave a small shrug. “Something like that.”

You hummed in understanding. “Well, no pressure. If you don’t feel up for a movie night, I can make up some excuse to cancel. Ill say gojos ego gave me a headache or something.”

That got a small chuckle out of him brief, but there. “Tempting,” he admitted, closing the fridge without taking anything. “But it’s fine. I don’t mind hanging out.”

You smiled. “Good. But if you do want to dip early or just chill instead of watching some dumb comedy, just say the word, okay?”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for the first time that evening, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a little. “Alright,” he said, softer this time. “Thanks.”

Feeling like you’d at least chipped away at whatever was bothering him, you turned back to your phone. “Cool. Everyone’s in. We’ll start at eight.”

He nodded, walking over to lean against the counter, watching as you set your phone down. He seemed calmer now, but there was still something unreadable in his expression.

“You want me to pick up snacks?” you asked, glancing at him.

“No need,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve got it covered.”

You studied him for a second, then decided to let it go. Instead, you grinned. “Alright, cool. Then I’ll focus on setting up the couch. You know how Gojo is about his pillow arrangements.”

That actually got another small smirk out of him, and he shook his head in mild exasperation. “Yeah. He acts like he needs a throne to watch a movie.”

You laughed. “Exactly! Which is why I will be taking the best spot before he gets here.”

Geto just shook his head again, but there was warmth behind his usual sarcasm this time.

You grabbed a blanket from the corner and started draping it over the couch. “Okay, so what do you wanna watch?”

He shrugged. “I’m fine with whatever.”

You gave him a pointed look. “Come on. You always have opinions about movies. What’s your guilty pleasure pick?”

He rolled his eyes but smirked slightly. “I don’t have one.”

You gasped dramatically. “Not even The Lizzie McGuire Movie?”

“Not a chance.”

“Alright, what about High School Musical?”

“Still no.”

You huffed. “You hate joy.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t hate joy. I just don’t need to watch a bunch of teenagers dramatically singing about basketball.”

“Fine,” you said, dramatically flopping onto the couch. “Then you pick something.”

He thought for a second, then finally said, “How about Pirates of the Caribbean?”

You perked up. “Okay, solid choice. Jack Sparrow is iconic.”

Geto smirked. “Exactly.”

—

You were digging through your closet, feeling content now that the tension from earlier had faded a little. “This is gonna be fun,” you murmured, pulling a blanket out and throwing it on the bed.

From across the room, Geto hesitated, watching you. The frustration that had been lingering in his expression all night seemed to finally fade, replaced by something quieter something softer.

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head to himself before heading to grab the dishes. “Yeah,” he muttered, almost too quiet for you to hear. “It will be.”

—

adjusting the TV, making sure everything was perfect for the upcoming movie night. The room was cozy, blankets spread across the floor, pillows carefully arranged on the couch. You had even set up a snack station chips, candy, and, of course, a bowl of ramen (leftovers from earlier). Satisfied, you were just about to sit down and relax when

BAM!

Gojo burst through the door like a human hurricane, his usual cocky grin stretched across his face, eyes alight with excitement.

Before you could react

WHAM!

He scooped you up effortlessly, lifting you clean off the ground like some kind of overexcited golden retriever in human form.

“Movie night!” he shouted, his voice way too loud for the small space. “It’s starting! Let’s gooooo!”

You let out a surprised squeal, kicking your legs as you tried to break free. “Gojo! What the hell? Put me down!”

But he only laughed, spinning you around like a ragdoll. “You were taking too long! We gotta get in the zone mentally, physically, spiritually—”

“You’re gonna break my back, you psycho!”

From the couch, Geto watched the scene unfold with mild amusement, lazily popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth. His expression was unreadable, but the way he leaned back with an arm draped over the back of the couch told you he was thoroughly entertained.

“Gojo, let her breathe,” Geto finally said, though his voice held no real urgency. “We do still need her conscious for the movie.”

Gojo scoffed but finally let you go, dropping you onto a pile of pillows with exaggerated care. “There. Safe and sound!”

You huffed, pushing your hair out of your face as you shot him a glare. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, you keep inviting me back,” he teased, plopping down beside you like he hadn’t just thrown you around like a wrestling dummy.

Shaking your head, you turned to Geto. “Can you believe him?”

Geto smirked. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Gojo gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like he’d been wounded. “Betrayed. By my own best friends.”

“Shoko’s not even here yet,” you pointed out, looking at the clock. “She’s late as always.”

Geto hummed. “Classic Shoko.”

“Alright, alright, what are we watching?” Gojo said, grabbing the remote and scrolling aimlessly through the DVD menu. “Because I vote Shrek. A classic. Iconic. Timeless.”

Geto groaned. “We watched that last time and we already decided a movie.”

“Yeah, because it’s good,” Gojo argued. “What else are we gonna watch? The Notebook?” He made an exaggerated gagging sound.

You rolled your eyes. “like something with actual adventure? Like Pirates of the Caribbean?”

At that, both Gojo and Geto perked up slightly.

“Oh,” Gojo said, considering it. “You know what? That is a solid choice.”

Geto nodded.

You grinned. “Great, then it’s settled. Captain Jack Sparrow it is.”

As you pressed play, the usual chaos settled into a comfortable stillness. The glow of the TV flickered across the room, casting warm shadows on the walls. The energy from earlier had finally evened out, leaving only the familiar quiet of good company.

Gojo, predictably, ended up sprawled next to you, his head resting against your shoulder like he’d done it a thousand times before. He hadn’t even asked, just flopped down with a content sigh, making himself at home.

Meanwhile, Geto had claimed his usual spot infront of you, his posture relaxed but still composed, his eyes half lidded as he absently ate from the bowl of popcorn in his lap.

Shoko, having arrived late as usual, was already half asleep, curled up on the floor in a pile of pillows. The quiet rise and fall of her breathing mixed with the sounds of the movie playing in the background.

Gojo shifted slightly, pressing closer, his arm draping lazily over your side. “You make a great headrests,” he murmured, half awake.

You huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t move away. “You’re lucky I tolerate you.”

“I know,” he sighed, fully content.

Geto, looking back from his spot, shook his head in mild exasperation, As the movie played on, the world outside seemed to fade. You, Gojo, Geto, and Shoko just the four of you, tangled in blankets, sharing warmth and quiet moments that didn’t need to be spoken aloud.

In the soft silence of the room, you felt the small, intimate moments that made this all feel so right. Gojo’s head, warm and heavy against your shoulder, the gentle movement of his hand as it brushed against your side occasionally, a reminder that even in his antics, he still found peace in being close to you. Geto’s calm presence, so steady, grounding The feeling of being wrapped in their presence was quiet, comforting.

Gojo shifted again, scooting just a little closer, his body curling into you with an ease that made you smile despite yourself. You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting there, but you realized the movie was mostly a background noise now, the quiet comfort of their presence making everything else fade away.

You absentmindedly ran your fingers through gojo’s hair, the softness of it a comforting distraction. His bright strands slipped through your fingers, each motion slow and deliberate. It was soothing his hair, the steady sound of the movie in the background, the rhythmic rise and fall of Gojo’s breathing as he laid next to you, perfectly at ease. It felt like the world outside had disappeared for a while.

You glanced at Shoko, who had sprawled herself out on the floor in a nest of pillows. Her usual indifference was replaced with a rare, unbothered expression, her eyes closed as she softly snored, blissfully unaware of the world. You couldn’t help but smile inwardly. Of course, she’s asleep already.

——

Geto’s footsteps were silent as he made his way to the door, but even in the quiet, he couldn’t quite escape the feeling that settled in his chest. He paused for a moment, glancing back at the scene in front of him. The room was still, save for the soft rise and fall of your breathing as you lay peacefully between Gojo’s arms. Gojo had shifted so that he was fully curled around you, his head resting gently on top of yours, as if you were always meant to be this close. Your soft breaths were a contrast to the rhythmic rise and fall of Gojo’s chest, which seemed impossibly calm despite the chaos of their lives.

For a moment, Geto stood there, just watching. There was something so comforting about the image of you nestled in Gojo’s arms. It was peaceful. It was perfect. But it made something twist inside him something old, something familiar. Something that had always been there, lurking, every time he let his heart wander too far into thoughts of you.

You had always been Gojo’s, whether you’d known it or not. The bond they shared had always been clear, too strong to ignore. Geto wasn’t foolish enough to pretend it wasn’t. They’d always been together friends, partners in everything from training to missions and while Geto knew his place, he couldn’t help but want more. He wanted more than just being the second person in the room. More than always being the one to stand in Gojo’s shadow, even when he told himself it was fine, it was enough.

And yet, despite the ache, despite the pull of his emotions that made his chest tight, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. Not from you. Not from this.

His eyes softened, his gaze lingering on you as you lay between Gojo’s arms, still unaware of his presence. He wished, for just a moment, that things were different. That you could see it the way he did see him the way he wanted you to. But it was easier to be the one in the background. It was safer, less complicated.

You were happy like this, with Gojo, and Geto could never bring himself to take that away from you.

But there was always that gnawing feeling, that silent, quiet resentment that clung to him. The bitter realization that no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he might want it, he was always going to be the one left behind. The second option. The one who watched from the sidelines as Gojo took what he wanted what you wanted.

He swallowed hard, turning his back to the room, his fingers brushing lightly against the doorframe. He let out a soft, almost inaudible exhale. “Maybe next time,” he whispered to himself, his voice barely a murmur.

He didn’t give up. Not on you, not on his feelings, not on his place in your life.

But tonight, as he watched Gojo protectively curl around you, the ache in his chest was a little more difficult to ignore. And for a moment, just a moment, Geto let himself feel it let himself feel the weight of being the one who always stood at the edge of the frame, never truly part of the picture.

He pushed the door open quietly, slipping out into the hallway with a final glance at the scene. And then, he let it go for now.

He would wait.

Just like he always had.

—

The early morning light filtered through your window, casting a soft, hazy glow across the room. The sound of steady breathing filled the space, the comforting rhythm of Gojo and Shoko still deep in sleep beside you. But something felt off. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. You had been half awake for a while, the warmth of Gojo’s arm around you, the soft rustling of Shoko in her sleep, but your mind kept wandering back to Geto.

He hadn’t been with you all morning.

You slid carefully from your bed, trying not to disturb Gojo or Shoko, and crept out into the hallway, padding softly toward Geto’s room. The floorboards creaked lightly underfoot, but the house was still and quiet in the early hours. When you reached the door, you hesitated for just a moment before gently pushing it open.

Geto was there. He stood near the window, his back to you, eyes fixed on the distant horizon. His figure was a silhouette against the light, bathed in the soft golden light of dawn. His posture was still, almost too still, like he was lost in his own thoughts.

You stepped closer, careful not to disturb him, and gently knocked on the doorframe.

“Geto?”

He didn’t turn right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the view outside, but there was a slight shift in his shoulders that told you he’d heard you.

“…You’re up early,” he finally said, his voice soft, almost quieter than usual.

“I could say the same for you,” you replied, your words light but carrying a weight of concern.

He let out a slow breath, but still, he didn’t turn to face you. His gaze remained focused on the outside world.

You walked into the room, closing the door behind you gently, your bare feet making soft taps on the wooden floor as you moved to sit beside him. There was an unspoken quiet between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The room felt calm, almost sacred in the stillness of the morning.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was just the quiet sounds of the world outside and the soft rhythm of your breaths as you sat next to him, a companion in the silence. You wanted to ask what was on his mind, but you knew better than to push. Sometimes, silence was the only answer that made sense between you two.

Your gaze shifted to his hair, messy from sleep and the weight of his thoughts. It wasn’t the first time you’d noticed the strands falling in a way that looked far too tangled for someone who always had their life so meticulously in order. Without thinking, your fingers reached up, brushing a few strands away from his face. His hair was softer than you remembered, even with the small tangles, and it felt calming to be this close to him.

You didn’t speak just continued brushing through his hair, your fingers moving delicately through the strands. You didn’t need to say anything; the act itself was enough. You could feel the tension in his body start to loosen under your touch, the sharp edges of whatever burden he’d been carrying softening with each stroke.

After a while, Geto finally let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing. He didn’t turn toward you, but you could feel his presence shift, becoming more grounded, more at peace. His fingers twitched slightly, but they stayed resting on his lap, not yet reaching for yours, but you felt the quiet acknowledgment between you.

“You don’t have to do that,” Geto said, his voice still soft, though it wasn’t as distant as before. “You could just ask me what’s wrong.”

You paused for a moment, letting your hand hover for a second before continuing to brush through his hair, the light click of your fingers in his strands the only sound in the room.

“I don’t need to ask,” you murmured. “I can tell. You’re always so quiet when something’s bothering you.”

Geto chuckled, a soft sound, and finally, his gaze shifted. He looked at you, his eyes soft and almost tired, but there was something there something vulnerable. “You know me too well,” he said with a slight smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You smiled back at him, your fingers still combing through his hair. “I don’t need to know everything to see when you’re carrying something heavy.”

There was another long silence. The kind that wasn’t awkward but felt like the two of you had somehow always understood each other without needing to say it out loud. The quiet hum of the outside world filtered into the room, the chirping of birds, the faint rustle of the morning breeze. It was the kind of peace that felt infinite, as if the world outside was perfectly content to wait for you two to find your calm before it continued on.

You continued to brush through his hair, and Geto’s breath evened out. There was no need for words only the comfort of this small, private moment between the two of you. You didn’t need to ask him what was on his mind, and he didn’t need to tell you. Not right now, anyway.

For a brief moment, Geto closed his eyes, his head tipping slightly toward you as he let himself be present in the peace you’d created. Your touch was grounding, like a steady rhythm that pulled him back from whatever distant thoughts had been pulling at him.

Geto rn after this chapter:

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⋆˚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

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🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

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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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Taglist: @inthedarkshadows000

Reply to the masterlist if you want to be added to the taglist!!!!!

⋆˚✿˖° ❝𝗜𝘁 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗱𝗲𝗱❞ ⋆˚✿˖°

────୨ৎ────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Geto Suguru x Reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Gojo Satoru x Reader

────୨ৎ────

oh there is another guy that’s a love interest? well let’s just let it cook for a bit first

────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.

⋆˚✿˖° 1. Unintended Study Breaks

⋆˚✿˖° 2. I’ve Played these Games Before

⋆˚✿˖° 3. Men who listen to Mitski

⋆˚✿˖° 4. How it feels to be a girl and do no wrong

⋆˚✿˖° 5. “What kind of woman are you attracted to”

⋆˚✿˖° 6. You are a Cougar!!!

⋆˚✿˖°

⋆˚✿˖°

for my other works-> MAIN MASTERLIST

College!Gojo who got his first ever girlfriend so late because he never had the time for one in high school

College!Gojo who fell so hard and so fast for you - making notes for himself about everything you like, dislike, food you love, shows you love to talk about, book you wanna read, etc.

College!Gojo who had heart eyes the first time you gave him a small kiss on the cheek, going back to his dorm and absolutely fawning to Geto about how soft your lips were and how pretty you looked and-

College!Gojo who made sure to bring you over on a day where Geto wasn’t able to bug you guys so you could hang out and make out cuddle

College!Gojo who got a little too excited when you started making out, picking you up bridal style and teleporting to his room…only to have not teleported you with him…and make a loud thump as you landed on the hard floor.

College!Gojo who was so embarrassed after, hiding his red face into his pillows as you laughed it off and told him it was fine

College!Gojo who pouted for hours since your heated moment got cut off, deciding to settle for cuddles instead

You who decided to surprise him later with a hot make out session after the nap you took together