synopsis: satoru gojo is spoiled and arrogant. he's also the next in line to inherit his family's fortune. his father sends him far away in a small town for a week in hopes that he'll 'change' for the better. instead of the usual five-starred hilton hotels, he stays at a local inn and starts to befriend the owner's daughter.
tropes: small town romance, christmas au, golden retriever x black cat
MILESTONE EVENT || MILESTONE MASTERLIST
contents: fem!reader, spoiled rich boy!gojo, acts like an ass to everyone but hopelessly falls in love with you at first sight, feels like a really bad hallmark movie, mentions of wealth class differences, reader isn't a tsundere - she's just indifferent for the most part and introverted
word count: 7.5K (idk i will uh make the fics shorter in the future)
a/n: thank you anon for requesting this!! idk if this is what you wanted but hopefully you like it!! :3 everyone also give a round of applause to @popponn for beta reading this big mess LMAO
Satoru Gojo has a lot of expectations, but this certainly isnât one of them.
He isnât particularly excited about spending a week away from his big city penthouse to be rotting in a small town motel in the middle of nowhere but, his father, CEO of Gojo Corporations, heavily insisted that he âneeds thisâ and that âitâll be good for the companyâ â whatever that means. Satoru is confident that his father thinks heâs incapable of running the family business after last monthâs run with the paparazzi and his third fling of the month. It wasnât his fault that they got caught doing drugs at one of Zenin's parties, everyone else was doing the same thing, it just so happened that the cameras were only focusing on him.Â
Well, thatâs what he gets for signing up to be the son of one of the richest men on Earth.
âYou need to start taking this seriously,â he recalls his father slamming his fist down at the desk before throwing a bottle of Henessy at the wall. âI donât want this company to go bankrupt just because I have a son who only thinks with his dick.â
Ouch⌠but heâs not wrong about that.
So now Satoru finds himself driving up a winding road somewhere very deep in the mountains. Exactly five hours away from the city. And, for the past three hours, all heâs been seeing are miles and miles of pine trees, sheets of snow, and â he had recently learned this from Suguru â sugar shacks. Apparently when youâre out over a hundred miles into wilderness territory these sap houses are littered everywhere. The fact that Satoru is beginning to count more shacks than designer cars on the road is really starting to get to him.Â
âThis whole thing is so fucking stupid,â Satoru has also been talking to himself throughout the journey in order to not lose his mind. âHe couldâve just sent me door to door caroling instead of whatever this is.â Satoru doesnât know how to sing well, but he does know all the lyrics to âBaby Itâs Cold Outsideâ and that usually gets him all the tips. He wonders if he can manage to make a small side hustle when he starts wasting his week here.
He takes a sharp turn up around the hill before finally recognizing a big red sign with the name âMistle Townâ as seen on the postcard his dad left him before leaving. It takes him another five minutes of driving through said small town, which is quite literally something out of one of those really bad holiday movies that his mom would force him to watch when he was little, before arriving at the inn. Upon arriving, Satoru is noticeably disappointed at the lack of valet assistance and, the size and design of the inn, is rather lackluster.Â
First, it just looks like a regular white farmhouse. Maybe having a max of ten rooms, none of them being penthouse sized, Satoru assumes. There are a couple of flowerbeds out front, all covered in a couple of inches of snow, and thereâs subtle signs of holiday decor slowly bleeding its way outside. He sees someone dressed in an oversized puffer by the entrance, arms occupied with red tinsel and large white ornaments, and figures that the first nice thing heâll do is to help out a random stranger â just to prove something to his dad.
Satoru parks his Rolls Royce in a spot furthest away from everyone else in the parking lot and sends a âim alive and wellâ text to Suguru, because heâs very much so going to be in frequent contact with him for the remainder of the trip, before heading up.
âNeed a hand?â He points out the obvious but still manages to throw a smile as if heâs already fixed the situation unfolding in front of him.
Satoruâs presence seems to pull you from your busy trance. You wiped your body around, nearly smacking the damn tinsel in his face, and made a small surprised noise.
âIâve got it,â you muffle out and he looks entirely unconvinced but, whatever, he tried anyway.
Satoru gives you a few encouraging pats on the back before heading inside, failing to realize his strength and causing you to lose your balance, making a few ornaments tumble to the ground. Thank god theyâre all plastic though.
He pretends to not hear you yelling after him as he enters the double doors, immediately greeted by the scent of roasted coffee beans and leather. Itâs the precious hour in the morning where nobody comes by, right after the cleaning staff had just finished vacuuming, when he struts in. He immediately spots someone vaguely familiar by the front desk. Long black hair, a red poofy bow tie in the back, and a distinctive scar across her face. The woman isnât working alone, a man with another facial marking is next to her, brewing two cups of coffee by the espresso machine.Â
Satoru looks at the woman again and outwardly smiles. âWhat are you doing here?â
âUgh,â Utahimeâs composure immediately falters at the sound of his voice, not that itâs a big shock. âHelping the family business, what else?â she throws back with a certain sharpness to her tone, and waves off the casual talk. âHave you even mentally prepared yourself for what youâre getting into?â
Satoru simply shrugs and saunters over to a nearby seat by the counter. âNah, honestly just planning to fuck around till I get back.â
Utahime flushes a little, though itâs mainly from frustration. âSatoru Gojo, you really areââ
âUtahime,â the man next to her speaks, handing her a cup of coffee, and slides Satoru a freshly brewed one, too. âI can explain the details to him, if you would like?â
The older female rubs the bridge of her nose and exhales a long, overdue sigh. âPlease do, Choso.â
âYeah,â Satoru leans into the counter, lips pointed down at this new face. âPlease, do tell.â
âYouâre basically our little Santa helper.â A new voice rings out from behind him. It spooks Satoru from his seat and he whips his head around to be met with your narrow eyes.
âHuh?â
âAlso think of this as an unpaid internship.â You start laughing when he gags on his own saliva at your statement. âOkay, you donât have to be so dramatic about it.â
Satoru swallows. âU-UnpaidâŚ?â
Now itâs Utahimeâs turn to speak, she huffs and tosses a couple of stockings into his arms. âYour father sent us a lengthy email a few days prior regarding your bratty behavior. So, of course, we came prepared.âÂ
âPreparedâŚ?â He feels the fabric in his hands and whines at the grainy texture. This is so not 100% real wool.
If Satoru thought he had any chance of actually taking over his fatherâs company, because he knows the difference between supply and demand, heâs wrong.
Customer service is not his forte. Heâs always thrown emails and sponsorship paperwork at his many assistants, and Satoru doesnât even know his own email log-in password. So, when you walked up to him first thing the next morning with a brown apron, the innâs logo large and embroidered in the center, telling him how to function all these coffee machines that heâs seen behind hundreds of counters, it invoked some fear into his already wrecked nerves. Plus, no one dared to warn him about the clientele during a holiday rush.
âI want a venti peppermint frappe with two pumps of chocolate, three pumps of hazelnut, replace it with almond milk, one shot of espresso, and top it off with a drizzle of caramel on top.â
He slumps against the counter. âYou sure you want all of that?â
âCan I please get a half dozen sfogliatella and a cannoli?
He starts picking at his cuticles and sneers. âSorry, I donât speak Italian.âÂ
âMy change is supposed to be five dollars, you only gave me three back?â
Satoru groans. âYouâre trying to scam me, arenât you?â
By the end of his four hour shift, Satoru feels like heâs just done more charity work than heâs ever done in his life â actually, maybe this could also be comparable to the time where he did the ribbon cutting ceremony at Chanel; gotta support small businesses, right?
âGojo.â Youâre seated across from him behind the counter, arms crossed and pursed lips.
He barely spares you a glance as he idly plays whatever shitty mobile game thatâs number one on the app store. âMhm? What is it?â He clearly knows youâre upset, your voice practically screams âI will end youâ in the most monotonous way possible. But can you blame him? Of all places, Satoru does not want to spend his winter break here.
You jerk your head to the side, fingers rhythmically tapping away on the counter, clearly unimpressed. âIt hasnât even been a full day and youâve managed to piss off every single customer.â
Satoru expression shifts, brow creasing, and sighs, grabbing a handful of mint chocolate from the freebie candy jar by the register. âDonât be dramatic,â he rolls his eyes and shoves three pieces in his mouth before jabbing a finger at a young man. âI didnât piss him off!â
You glower, cheeks slightly puffed out. âThatâs Yuuji and heâs practically a family friend and Chosoâs little brother, so he doesnât count,â you explain before adding, âPlus, heâs literally nice to everyone. Youâre not special.â
And for a second, Satoru considered arguing that fact. Having been born into wealth, granted whatever wish he wanted, his butlers and maids are always on speed dial, thatâs the lifestyle heâs used to. Placed on this tiny rock called Earth just to take over it one day, is what his father used to always say to him. But how can he, Satoru Gojo, take over when heâs stuck working a minimum â scratch that, unpaid â wage job as punishment?Â
Instead of fighting, Satoru slumps against the counter and pouts, like a little kid who just got their toy taken away. You and your sister Utahime have a clear advantage over him, by somehow being close, yet distant, friends to his family. Maybe karma is real.Â
âIâm putting you on ski lessons later.â
Satoruâs ears perk at this. âOh, so I get some employee benefits, right?â
You roll your eyes, digging deep in your pockets to pull out a sheet with his name next to a list of others. âWrong. Youâre in charge of teaching five year olds how to ski.âÂ
âHuh?â
Somehow that sounds even worse than being a barista. Kinda.Â
By the end of his first day of unemployment, Satoru tries to convince himself that a full change of scenery is nice. Well, he has to convince himself, otherwise heâs stuck dreading each coming day for the rest of the week.Â
âTired yet, Gojo?â
You flop down on a spare armchair in his room, squishing his Canada Goose jacket underneath. Heâs too tired to yell at you to get off and tumbles onto his bed, feet dangling off the edge, letting out a loud groan when his face immediately makes contact with the rough wooly blanket. Surprisingly to him, everything just feels so comfortable that the quality of the products doesnât even cross his mind.
Sure, the air in the room is a bit musty, and he can feel his cheeks flaring up from the sudden change in temperature and the dull aching nag in his legs from demonstrating ski tricks to toddlers, but thereâs an odd sense of fulfillment swelling in his chest just about now. He almost suggests taking over Chosoâs lesson but, according to the hotel pamphlet, thereâs going to be an ice fishing tournament tomorrow and he kinda wants to check that out, too.
âExhausted,â he mumbles into the sheets, eyes squeezed shut. Satoru wiggles his body around for a few moments before slipping out of his snow boots and stares out the window, noticing flickering green and purple lights in the night sky. âWoah, are thoseâŚ?â
He hears you laugh beside him. âYeah, northern lights. We see them all the time during the winter.â
âOnly seen them bitches in âPolar Expressâ.â Satoru finds himself saying whateverâs on his mind right now, his brain too whipped out to control his mouth. âYou guys are lucky to see this every night.â
âI know youâre all pooped out from today but,â he feels the mattress dip by the edge and your fingers poking at his thighs. âDid you wanna head up to the balcony and watch them for a bit?â you say this experimentally, waiting for his reaction.Â
Satoru might be a stranger to most natural phenomenons, having to zone out all the time whenever he did go on family vacations to a fancy national park when he was younger. Though, during the short time of spending his time here, it makes him think about packing up and leaving behind the fast paced city life for a bit of natural beauty and brightness.
âCarry me?â
âDonât be ridiculous, youâre like a giant.âÂ
He manages to gather some energy to sit up on his elbows. âYou should at least have some form of hospitality to a family friend, you know?â
You eye him for a long moment, and then finally huff, breaking the contact to kick your feet into the festive carpeted floor. âAlright, just donât lean your whole body weight on me.â
âWouldnât count on that.â
Both of you end up tumbling onto the balcony rails around one in the morning. As expected, Satoru couldnât keep to his promise, throwing his ridiculously long arms around your shoulders, and whining the whole way up the stairs. Itâs not his fault that the inn didnât have an elevator installed. In all, itâs not a bad day â a bad night, even.Â
You straighten him against the railing before throwing a blanket over him. The fabric is thick and heavy, and Satoru forgets the ache in his limbs as he watches the way your eyes focus, eyebrows knitted, when youâre making sure he stays bundled up against the winter air. Once upon a time, Satoru never wouldâve thought he would actually enjoy being in the company of someone whoâs actively trying to teach him a lesson.
âOkay,â you say suddenly, almost like a reminder that you need to breathe, and pull away from him once heâs wrapped tightly like a swaddled baby.Â
You both sit in silence for a moment, and Satoru feels the urge to fill all that silence. He supposes maybe thatâs why most people find him so annoying. He never really shuts up, always wants to add the last comment to everything. Though, with the help of Suguru by his side, itâs gotten slightly easier and bearable for others but, when his head is big and full of loud thoughts, itâs so hard trying to calm the buzzing noise in his head and â
âGojo, look,â your pointer finger darts at the illuminated skyline in the distance and he snaps his head, following the trail, before gasping.
He feels your other hand tugging at the blanket when he finally makes out two faint bright lights in the distance. You squirm slightly next to him, to the point where your shoulders touch, and Satoru finally breathes, because suddenly, thereâs heat rushing in. The loud, rough winds around him seem to die down and heâs aware of the slightly gazed expression on your face as you look into the far distance.
âDid you make a wish?â he finds himself whispering.
You grin. âYeah, gonna make you work here for eternity,â you reply back in good natured spirit.
Something stirs inside Satoru. Something important. Well, Satoru-level important, so in the grand scheme of things, not very â but still. He unravels parts of his blanket and throws it over your head, making sure that it messes up your hair, and laughs when you throw him another pout.Â
âDid you make a wish?â you adjust the blanket so it covers your shoulders, moving a little closer to him, avoiding the cool breeze.
Satoru nods but presses a finger to his lips. âNot telling, though. Might not come true if I do.â
âOh, shoot. Maybe I shouldâve kept mine a secret then.â
He rolls his eyes and nudges your waist with an elbow. âYou will definitely not see me here again.â
Satoru realizes, very fast, that his life has become very different, very quickly. And it might not be the bad kind of different.Â
Over the course of the next few days, heâs practically glued to your side as youâre showing him all things related to hospitality that his father tried to drill into him when he was a pre-teen. Obviously, it didnât work at the time. Satoruâs known for being defiant just because he wanted to, and eventually his father stopped with the after school etiquette lessons. You, on the other hand, unfortunately have him tied around your fingers.
âYou need to tidy up the edges more, Gojo.â
âThereâs barely a wrinkle in these sheets!â He points at the bed sheet on the mattress, the one that heâd been working on for the last ten minutes in vain while you stood next to him with slightly concerned eyes. Itâs a room service type of lesson today and, even though Satoru has never made his own bed before, heâs positive that he didnât leave behind any smudges that might catch anyoneâs eye.
âDid you check tuck in the sides? Or are you trying to get off easy for today?â You say, thereâs a mild accusation in your tone when you speak, smiling as you step aside.Â
And, despite the warm smile, Satoru frowns a little, because guess who forgot to tuck in the sides?Â
When Satoru ducks his head around the mattress and sees a good loose chunk of the sheets hanging off and groans when youâre right. âItâs not my fault that theyâve made them so big for no reason,â he replies, somewhat embarrassed, rubbing the back of his head and messing up his already ruffled hair.
You roll your eyes and stick a tongue out. âYouâre getting the hang of it though, maybe even faster than Yuuji when he first offered to help.â
He flushes at the unexpected praise and quickly fixes the sheets, turning his whole entire body away from your sight. âBetter than Yuuji, right?â
âOh? So, you only work better with compliments, Gojo?â You sound amused, as if a lightbulb just popped on top of your head. Â
Satoru flattens out the bed once more, strangely now feeling satisfied with the final outcome before turning around, sticking out a tongue of his own. âOnly if itâs from you,â he answers, honestly.Â
You laugh, and hopefully itâs not at him. âI thought you would be more annoying to deal with.â
âSo, Iâm just regular amounts of annoying?â He points out, with a fake frown, his fingers fiddling with the edges of the sheet.
You turn your gaze, seemingly in deep thought, before responding with a small shrug and grin. âPossibly a perfect amount of annoying.â
Satoru feels the blood rushing to his cheeks, again. âWell, of course, itâs the perfect amount because Iâm perfect,â he replies, instantly, but suddenly heâs shy and feels the need to go to the next room to fix their stupid sheets before he combusts in front of you.
âGojo,â you say, almost hesitantly.Â
He swallows and rubs the back of his neck, wiping off evidence of his sweaty palms. âYeah?â
âYou missed a spot,â and your pointer fingers direct at the far right corner of the bed frame. He mustâve pulled the sides too hard and it caused the other side to flip over. Ugh, heâs not cut out for this at all.
âIâm⌠uh, still better than Yuuji, right?â
âMhm, getting there, Gojo.â
By day four, Satoru has surprisingly adjusted to the rules and responsibilities. Heâs not entirely sure whatâs gotten him mildly well behaved, Suguru is a bit surprised by the daily updates being less⌠aggressive and whiny. What started as long vent paragraphs about the lack of heated flooring and needy customers, soon turned into photo albums of kids face planting into the snow and unconsented selfies with you in the background. Satoru absolutely makes sure you end up looking the worst out of the two because heâs gotta let his best friend know whoâs the prettiest and heâs definitely racking up a blackmail album of all of your worst moments in case anything happens in the future.Â
Itâs closing time and he just got back from the reindeer shed out in the back, covered head to toe in all things hay and snow. First things first, and no one bothered to tell him, but reindeers smell bad. Like, really bad. Especially at the end of the day, where their pens are covered in shit and countless carrots and apple bits from the little kids overfeeding them. Satoru is vaguely aware of the fact that he smells, just like heâs vaguely aware that the hotel lobby is oddly quiet from the usual banter between you and the usual workers.
Utahime and Choso are sitting by the cafe bar, seemingly deep in conversation about ordering more supplies for next week. Satoru thinks about interrupting their session with probably an unrelated dumb question, but the idea dies when Utahime notices his presence and motions him to come over.Â
âYou stink,â Satoru casts a half-glare at Utahime and begins picking out some of the scattered hay pieces stuck to his sweater.Â
âFor the record, I became good friends with Rudolph and Vixen today,â he grumbles back and Choso throws him a pat on the back.
âHey, I donât mind your stink, by the way. Smells kinda nice,â Choso offers up, but Satoru only shoots him a very unhappy look.
âIf you think I smell nice then Iâm really worried about what you think smells bad,â then he turns over to Utahime again, whoâs engrossed in whatever is on her clipboard right now. âSo, what did you need from me?â
âMy sister,â she starts and taps away at the clipboard before handing it over to him. Itâs pages upon pages of invoices from the past month. âCould you hand this to her? She should be in the back.â
âYou treating me like an errand boy?â
Utahime scoffs. âWhat? Donât wanna see her?â
âNo, I do,â he responds, a bit too fast for his own liking, and straightens out. âUh, is that all?â Satoru hopes his face doesnât betray how much heâs a bit excited to interact with you, given that today was a full day out in the trenches, and he absolutely needs to hear you say his name at least twice a day in order to have a good nightâs sleep.
Choso is trying really hard not to laugh, and Satoru takes it as a sign that he currently has a cheesy smile on his face â go figure. âOne of the corner rooms upstairs requested a weighted blanket, mind also doing that too?â
Thereâs a certain relief that floods through Satoru and he thinks maybe he can take on a few more tasks for the night if that means spending a little more time with you, even if his body is screaming that he needs to take a two hour long shower.Â
âHey,â he starts to say when he rounds the corner, âWhereâd you put those weighted blankets again?â
Satoru expected to walk in on you neck-deep in paperwork. Youâve mentioned earlier in the week that this year would be the busiest and thereâs a bunch of stuff due. Something about end of the year tax returns and inventory counts, it all goes out his ear but he remembers something similar that his father told him in a prior conversation. He thinks he could probably help you figure out some of it, but that might be a bit much.
What he walks in on, thought, is you sitting in your little makeshift office. Youâre on your laptop, the screenâs tilted just right enough that he gets a glimpse of what youâre looking at. Youâre looking at flights and hotels, even got a whole spreadsheet on the second monitor. From what heâs seen of you so far, you didnât come off as the type to talk about your future that much.
His voice catches you by surprise and your expression flickers from something vaguely focused to embarrassment real quick. You hastily close out the tabs and go back to the hotelâs homepage.
âWhat is it, Gojo?â And thereâs this awkward, oddly frantic moment of you fumbling around with the keyboard and mouse, like a teenage boy whoâs just got caught looking at porn.
âAh,â Satoru thinks seeing your flustered side is rather adorable, to say the least. âYou tryinâ to plan a vacation or something?â He struts over to your desk, placing a firm hand onto the back of the chair, and thereâs this smile on his face that just screams âgotchaâ.
Your face scrunches up but itâs not out of annoyance. âKinda?â
Even with a grumpy look, itâs a good look on you. Makes you kinda dark, brooding, and beautiful, and it turns your eyes into dark storm clouds, or some other weird, waxy poetic shit that Satoru canât figure out the words to. Either way, Satoru thinks you look cute and canât stop noticing your little facial movements. Youâre more expressive than you would probably imagine.
âOoh, where to?â
You sigh and start playing with your thumbs. âMalaysia. My friend told me great things about it and Iâve been meaning to go for a while now but time and money are always iffy.â
âMakes sense, I can imagine that being an inn assistant doesnât pay all the bills.â
That was probably the wrong thing to say. You huff and glare, an icy-death glare, at him. If looks could kill, Satoru is sure that heâll be six feet underground by now.Â
âWeighted blankets are on the second floor closet by the laundry room,â you answer his initial question curtly before shutting the laptop. âDonât stick your nose where it doesnât belong.â
âIt was just a question,â he mumbles slowly, and maybe even a little dangerously. âIf moneyâs an issueââ
âGojo.â Your voice is fixed and rigid, one that leaves absolutely no room for debate. âYour dad was right about you; you always just fall back to your fame and wealth.â
As youâre busy staring, Satoru realizes that youâre kinda being a total ass to him right now.
âThatâs not fair,â his voice is rising and canât seem to put a stop to the words spilling out. âDonât bring my dad into this conversation.â
âOr what? You can go back to your privileged life anytime you want. This is just a field trip for you while others actually have to try hard and make a living.â You spit out.Â
âNo one forced you to become an inn worker, you know? If youâre so worried about money then you couldâve just found another high paying job.â Satoru wrinkles his nose and his volume continues to rise.Â
You immediately offer him a dark glare and it comes off in a cut-throat way that shuts Satoru up mid thought. The rest of his counters die in his throat when you start making hand gestures at the office exit and he gets the hint: âleave before I lose my shitâ is the calling he sees.
And it works, because he finds his tone shifting a little, awkwardly kicking the floor and backing off. âWhateverâŚâ
That was last night and, by now, Satoru is realizing that heâs kind of a giant asshole and the guilt is slowly eating away at him. Was he always like this? It couldnât have been â heâs only met you a few days ago, and this is only meant to be a quick, âvacationalâ, getaway. Sure he might be a bit selfish and a dick, but he had been able to function perfectly fine before all of this, hadnât he?Â
Satoruâs not really sure.
Itâs noon, and heâs lying in bed. Choso had asked him to cover his shift at the cafe, and heâd agreed, readily, even though itâs supposed to be his day off, because youâre working. Choso had texted him, though, saying that you had simply said youâd work the entire shift by yourself.
Of course. Itâs absolutely not funny anymore.
Satoru sighs. Heâs going to apologize, thatâs for sure. It wounds some of his pride, yeah, but whatever, this tension between you guys, though, isnât worth it. He finds himself wasting his entire morning away rotting in bed. There are things that he could be doing, that he looks forward to, like feeding the reindeers or demonstrating basic ski moves to little kids. Choso and Yuuji totally got him addicted to yelling out âpizzaâ and âfrench fryâ at every chance he gets. They also got him addicted to a shitty relationship forum they both browse, but somehow the idea of reading other peopleâs relationship drama, when heâs facing drama of his own, is kinda mentally exhausting.
On second thought, maybe he should post on that forum, actually.
It might not be such a bad idea.
Or maybe he could reach out to Suguru and ask how to apologize?Â
His best friend is a bit more grounded and attuned with other peopleâs feelings compared to him, afterall. Satoruâs not good at this stuff and heâs always just cut others off whenever they do argue, but this feels different. And, well, for the first time in forever, Satoru is desperate.Â
âI fucked up big time and I need to apologize, help me out here?â
Suguru scoffs over the line. âWow, what happened to saying âhelloâ or âhow are youâ?â
Satoru rolls his eyes. âHi, hello. How are you? How do I make a sincere apology?â
âIâm good, thank you. Now, for your request, depends on how big the fuck up is.â
He bites his tongue, finding the right words to essentially not sound like a huge dick but, no matter how he wants to rephrase it, the outcome is the same. âI mightâve implied that sheâs poor and needs someone to take care of her?â It sounds so stupid, so mean, and so degrading now that heâs saying it out loud.Â
He hears Suguru sucking in his teeth and sighs. After a couple of pauses, his best friend finally speaks. âThatâs pretty fucked up.â
Satoru frowns. âOkay, yeah, it is,â and he sits up in his bed when a snowball makes an impact against the window. Itâs Utahime. And, currently, sheâs throwing him the nastiest glare that a woman has ever given him in his life. âUm, Iâll call you back, buddyâŚâ
âWhat? I havenât given youââ
âDonât have time for unwarranted advice right now.â
âYou called me!â
âBye!â Satoru ends the call before shuffling towards the window, swallowing a hard lump, and inches the glass panel just small enough for him to hear coherently and not big enough for her to punt him across the face. âLovely morning, isnât it?â
But Utahime is in an obvious shitty mood and Satoruâs lack of charming antics arenât going to work this time. âIâm going to apologize, I promise,â he tries to insist.
âThis is all your fault,â she immediately gets to the point and it makes him shrink back just a tiny bit. Heâs starting to see that the bluntness runs in the family. âJust get your ass to work.â
âBut my shift doesnât start tillââ
âDoesnât matter,â Utahime starts to form an even bigger snowball and raises it to the window panel. âAss out of bed, now.â
Okay, so as much as Satoru had tried to tell himself that this week wouldnât be bad, itâs really starting to get fucking awful.
Everyoneâs in a shit mood. Yuuji tries to crack some jokes but the usual crowd isnât having it. Youâve been throwing Satoru dirty looks while working behind the cafe counter together and heâs been put on drink duty â which is his worst nightmare â while youâre attending to the customers because youâre young and cute enough for them to be nice to you. Satoru has spilled hot coffee and chocolate on himself like four times so far, and the shift just started. Heâs terrified that the rest of this week is going to be like this.
âCan we talk?â Satoru whisper shouts over the espresso machine.
He sees your shoulders tensing up but immediately relaxes them afterwards. âDid you hear something, Yuuji?â
The boy looks up from the bar counter, itâs his day off and heâs catching up on some homework, but the seemingly growing tension thatâs unfolding in front of him is making it painfully hard for him to focus on anything engineering related. Yuuji scratches the back of his neck before darting his eyes back and forth between the two of you. Normally, he would be the voice of reason, but Satoru doesnât blame him when he shakes his head.
âN-Nah, mustâve been the wind or something...âÂ
Great, heâs been reduced to an air draft.
âMhm, thatâs what I thought,â you agree without missing a beat. As the next customer in line spends an eternity holding everyone up, debating whether to get the seasonal muffin or french toast to go with their drink, you continue, âThought I heard a rotten brat for a second.â
He absolutely doesnât expect the harsh insult. Satoru widens his eyes at the outburst and thereâs a small pause, the silence ticking in between everyone, and heâs sure that youâre glaring him down somewhere in a small reflection on the counter.Â
Satoru debates whether to call out your name and shake some sense into you, but Yuuji quickly swallows and makes a motion with his hands to his throat, a universal signal saying â âI wouldnât test the waters, if I were youâ.
And, after the customer finally decides that they didnât want any pastries with their coffee order, you finish the transaction before announcing that youâre going on a small fifteen minute break to âstretchâ. Though, anyone could see that youâre planning to cool off before you manage to actually blow up in Satoruâs face.
âHow the hell am I going to talk to her?â he groans to Yuuji once youâre finally away. Heâs managing the cash register and, surprisingly, finishes taking the remaining orders quite smoothly compared to his first day. At least he can pat himself on the back for this.Â
âYouâve really pissed her off, dude,â Yuuji replies and Satoru just rolls his eyes because thatâs all heâs been hearing from everyone else all day today. âYou should talk to her when sheâs not⌠charged up.â
âWay to point out the obvious.â Sometimes he forgets that Yuuji is a bit oblivious. How is he doing so well as a mechanical engineering major?Â
Yuuji makes an audible âpopâ and whistles. âWhat did you even say to her?â
Satoru groans into his hands. âDid she not tell you?â
âWell, she wasnât exactly in a chippy mood to talk about anything this morning â outside of work, that is.â
âHereâs a little TLDR version: mightâve said something classist.â
âMightâve?â
âOkay, definitely said something classist.â
âThenâŚâ Yuuji drums his fingers against the counter, deep in thought. âYâknow, whenever me and Megumi fight, I always invite him out to the movies to try and cheer him up. Might not be applicable to you butâŚâ
Satoru blinks. âAre you suggesting a date would help?â
âMaybe not a dateââ
âNo, Iâm sorry for calling you dumb, youâre so rightâa nice date might work!â
âYou never called me dumb, though?â
âYeah, okay, whatever you say, kiddo.â
Satoru unravels the ribbon on his apron and throws it in Yuujiâs general direction, not caring if he tossed the stained uniform directly in his face. He hops the counter and pats the younger male on the shoulder, flashing him a genuine smile because, hey, maybe Yuuji actually is smarter than he looks.
âGonna totally invite you to the wedding.â
Itâs no secret that Satoru Gojo hasnât been on a proper date in a pathetically long time.
He has swiped right on a number of highly influential celebrities and figures on dating apps before. Matched with nearly all of them. Gone onâŚmaybe a lot of first dates with not a lot of second dates coming right after. Who cares though, everyoneâs just there for the photos and followers anyway. Satoru knows that heâs attractive and that he personally loves big, lavish dates but, at this point, he knows you enough to understand you absolutely hate big gestures.Â
After a short winded conversation with Suguru and Utahime, separately, Satoru has concluded on not buying you first class tickets to Malaysia.Â
âAre you trying to get her to hate your guts?â Was the general consensus of the conversation with said people.Â
So, whatâs the next best option if he canât fly you out to Malaysia? The answer is pretty simple â bring Malaysia to Mistle Town. And no, heâs not going to be relying on his black card for anything, even though the back of his mind is telling him otherwise.Â
Choso blinks several times at Satoruâs printed out proposal. The colorful letters and Google image photos of beaches and coconuts slapped poorly onto the document screams back at Choso and Yuuji, bright and early on Christmas Eve.Â
Itâs unusual for Satoru to be bouncing excitedly in place for someone other than himself. So this catches everyone off guard.Â
Yuuji whispers something intangible to Choso, but Satoru is able to make it out as, âDo we even have coconuts here?â
To which Choso replies, âItâs winter, so I donât think so.â
And Yuuji moves onto the next question in queue, âWhat should we do about the lack of palm trees?â
A patient sigh from Choso, âWe could always trim the pine trees outside?â He lamely suggests.Â
âItâs a good idea, no?â Satoru jumps right back in, completely missing the flat vibe from the brothers. He frowns. âWhy are you guys giving me that look?âÂ
And, like his best friend and your sister, the brothers throw him a confused head tilt.Â
âWell,â Yuuji weakly starts, âYour plan âProject: Bring Malaysia here in hopes of Y/N falling in love with meâ doesnât really sound that great⌠even on paper.â
Satoru grins, fully expecting that to be the response. âIâll order the things, donât worry about it. I just need to borrow your lungs for this project.â
Yuuji scratches his cheek in confusion, laughing nervously again. âOur lungsâŚ?â he echos.Â
âHow long do I have to keep this dumb blindfold on, Choso?â
âU-Um,â Choso shoots Satoru a brow as he carefully guides you through the hotel lobby.Â
Itâs currently decked out from head to toe in all things yellow, green, and pink beach themed inflatables. Choso and Yuuji reminded Satoru last night that maybe two flamingos wouldâve been enough to get the message across, but seeing that he ordered a whole colony? Yeah, heâs sending the rich boy prayers as he reels you in further, avoiding collision with the colorful balloons and seven-foot tall palm trees, too.
âChoso?â
He squeezes your shoulders when Satoru shoots him a thumbs up. âTen seconds.â
Satoru quietly walks over to both of you, tip toeing so the sounds of his loafers are minimized against the flooring. Once heâs inches away, Choso retreats off into a different room, mouthing to him words of final encouragement, which Satoru gladly took.Â
You appear restless under the blindfold. âI swear to god, if I take it off and thereâs a giant pile of reindeer shit in the middle of the lobby I will actually kill somebodyââ
And Satoru quietly debates whether or not he wants to keep you like this for a little while before revealing the big surprise. Seeing you flustered and confused is a very cute look on you, after all. But, heâs gotten you this far and it would absolutely kill him to leave you on such a bad notice. Itâs now early evening, and the sunâs just starting to set enough that the golden rays illuminate your features from this angle. It takes Satoru back to his first private meeting with you on the balcony and he remembers why heâs even doing this in the first place.
Carefully and slowly, he slips down the blindfold and softly calls out your name. âHey, take a look around you.â
Your eyes are blown wide when you see his face. Anger and frustration dissipate from your face when you soon realize that Satoru carries a soft expression. He watches as the emotions wash off as quickly as they came. Then, you finally take a look around your surroundings and gasp. âYouâYou did all of this for me?â
Satoru tenses a little, a bit on the edge. âYou want the short or long answer?â
You donât notice because youâre too preoccupied with the numerous fake flamingos around you. âOn second thought, maybe no answer would also work.â
He laughs at this, slightly, before turning shy again. He feels silly, ashamed, and it makes his cheeks flush. âI wanted to say sorry again for what I said earlier.â
âYou finally want to talk about it?â
He looks at your idle hands and then back to your face. When he sees that you don't move them away as he inches closer, he takes both of them into his palms, giving them a tight squeeze. âYeah, I was a big idiot and I thought I was trying to help in the beginning but I just soundedâno, I amâa giant ass.â Satoru concludes.Â
The atmosphere grows quiet and heavy again. The air humid and thick despite the opened windows and youâre looking at him. Then, there are tiny little smiles that break out on your face, like freckles and stars in the sky.Â
âYouâre such a pillow princess,â and he outright blushes ten shades darker at the nickname, âyouâre lucky youâre cute.â Coming from you, thatâs as good as a love confession.
I like you, he thinks, but doesnât say it. He really likes you and doesnât want to fuck this up.
But, everyone knows that Satoru Gojo is a child at heart.Â
Satoru doesnât know who gives in first; realistically, it mightâve been one of those stupid, rare, impossible moments where itâs completely shared. Suddenly the gaudy blow up palm trees and inflatable pool blur from his vision and he feels the world roaring around him when your palms rest on his cheeks. He ducks his head down but youâre the one who closes the distance between.Â
You taste like strawberries and lavender, smell like warm cocoa, and feel softer than any sherpa blanket heâs had. Satoru closes his eyes and his vision goes white, his hands shakily snake around your waist, pressing you hard against his chest as if you might disappear at any moment. Satoru sighs into the kiss, it feels pleasantly warm, that throb in his chest, itâs a slow, steady thrum of simmering desire and comfort. Heâs pretty sure heâs adding way too much tongue, the drool and saliva that comes dripping between you two will be uncomfortable soon, but for now, it adds to the blissed out, satisfaction youâre both basking in.
Finally, you pull away, shortening yourself a good several inches from planting the rest of your feet on the ground. Your eyes are glossed over, watery and looking at him without vexation. âYouâre something else.â You say, but thereâs no bite.
Satoru doesnât speak for a moment. Heâs too focused on the feeling of your warm fingers sprawled all over his heating face. Too focused on the dull pulse of both nervousness and infatuation slowly spreading through his body because youâre giving him that look. This all feels romantic and stupid, he thinks.
âIâm sorry, again.â The words are quiet, hesitant, and Satoru almost regrets them the moment he speaks.
You shift around a little, now dancing on the balls of your feet, but the grasp you have on his cheeks is still relatively firm, even applying a bit of more pressure as if itâs your way of showing reassurance. You tip your head; your eyes are so vivid and bright, it sends a shiver down Satoruâs spine. In this moment, he remembers every single thing between them in shocking detail â the awkwardness, the tension, the frustration, the dumb banters, and suddenly heâs overwhelmed.
âIâll forgive you if you give me a private city tour,â you laugh. âAnd come back to work with us again next year.â
Satoru offers a small smile. âUnpaid?â
âWill you say no if it is?â
He hugs you tighter, a chuckle bubbles in his throat. âI donât think I can say no because itâs you.â
Though, while some might think that Satoru is the real loser here for being whipped so hard over a small town girl, you know that deep down the real loser is you. Because you managed to have the son of a CEO wrapped around your fingers and now you will never know peace again. But youâre not really complaining; instead, youâre working even harder to save just enough to eventually see your dream destination while Satoru whines and sends an ungodly amount of selfies everyday when heâs back home. And you wonât allow yourself to get snappy because, well, youâre very much head over heels for him, too.
Š 2023 DOOBEA. do not copy any of my writing and translate/repost.
.ŕłŕż serial killer!gojo x detective!reader: fucking the serial killer you're supposed to be arresting might be the best (or worst) decision you've ever made.
contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, public sex (in an alley), p â> v, orgasm denial, fingering, he cums inside, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, lil' bit of dumbification, hair pulling, squirting, dirty talk, manipulation/coercion, mentions of murder (he's a serial killer what did u expect), non-sexual mentions/usage of guns, probably more. 3k words.
author's note: wrote this instead of writing my research paper and studying for my math final. if this flops i will actually become the serial killer /j. anywaysss tagging @satoruhour @screampied @satorena.. and yes, the "season 2 coming soon" in the banner means something ;)
âlooks like your little killing spreeâs gonna have to come to an end,â you muse, crossing your arms and cocking an eyebrow at the man across from you. he grins back at you, and itâs almost unsettlingâhe looks a little too smug for a killer whoâs just been caught.
âi donât think so, sweetheart,â the man responds dryly, leaning back against the alley wall, features relaxed and at ease. heâsatoru gojoâhas been your target for a couple weeks, and now that youâve finally cornered him, you find yourself feeling a little⌠unfulfilled. usually, when you caught criminals, they begged for mercy and showed a little more emotion than what satoruâs shown so far.Â
also, the criminals usually werenât this good-looking.
you maintain eye contact with satoru while you carefully reach into your coatâs pocket, withdrawing your phone and unlocking it. unexpectedly, satoru doesnât make any move to stop you from dialing the number to your boss, instead smiling coyly as you do so.
âso, youâre one of those guys who donât care what happens to them?â you ask, tilting your head as you hold the phone to your ear. satoru shrugs and his grin only widens the longer your phone rings. ten seconds pass before your phone tells you that the number you dialed is currently busy, and satoruâs muffled laughter becomes unbearably suspicious. you narrow your eyes and involuntarily take a step back. âwhatâs with the smile?â
satoru scoffs and dips his head, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step towards you. âyâknow, youâre rather brave, cominâ out to catch a serial killer all by yourself. and in the middle of the night, too.â he stops advancing when he sees you pull a gun out of your pocket and hold it up threateningly, a look of warning in your eyes. âokay, okay, relax. iâm not gonna do anything to your pretty face.â
âwhat did you do?â you ask suspiciously. satoru widens his eyes in mock disbelief, as if heâs completely and utterly shocked that youâd ever accuse him of anything.
âbesides the fifteen separate counts of murder? not much, really.â
âiâm not an idiot,â you snap, cocking the gun and aiming it at his head. âyouâre not the one in control here, satoru gojo. spit it out before i put a bullet through your skull.â
satoru laughs and holds his hands up in surrender. âfiesty, arenât we? itâs alright, i like my girls with a little fire in them.â he tilts his head to the side and looks you up and down, eyes lingering on parts of you that suddenly make you feel naked, despite the coat covering most of your figure. âput down the gun, sweetheart, then we can talk.â
you wait a second, scanning satoruâs overly relaxed face before cautiously lowering the gun. âwhat are you hiding?â you ask again, eyes hardening.
âa lot of things. but i think youâre talking about what i did to your boss, right?â
âyou have five seconds before i shoot you.â
satoru makes a face and then rolls his eyes dramatically. âfine, since youâre beinâ so pushy about it. i killed him, obviously. youâre a smart girl, shouldnât you have figured that out by now?â when you donât immediately answer, satoru sighs and shakes his head. âand here i thought that the girl whoâd been tailing me for the past week would have a little sense in that pretty head of hers. looks like i was wrong.â
âshut it,â you snap again, re-dialing the number and letting your phone ring for fifteen seconds. when nobody picks up, you internally curse and think about what to do next. dialing 911 would be worth a try, but the look in satoruâs ice-blue eyes makes you think otherwise. despite the gun in your hand, something about him makes you entirely certain that he could overpower you, even if you landed a shot on him. and even if you just shot him right now, heâs been shown in the past to be able to function fine with a bullet through his chest. thatâs how two of your subordinates lost their lives to himâby underestimating your cityâs notorious killer.
so you decide to bide your time.
âran out of options?â satoru asks smugly. he raises an eyebrow when you slide your phone back into your pocket and exhales a laugh. âyou gonna wait for a big, strong man to rescue you? âcause iâm right here, honey, and i could be your savior.â
âthat was actually the shittiest line iâve ever heard,â you scoff, rolling your eyes at the self-satisfied look on his face. âare you seriously proud of that one?â
âwell, it worked.â
he pushes himself off the alley wall and towards you so fast that you hardly even have time to process it, and before you know it, youâre the one pressed to a wall with a gun to the side of your head. satoruâs other hand grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head, and his face is close enough to the point where you can feel his breathâwhich is unexpectedly mintyâon your cheeks as he grins down at you. âyou really think iâd use a line as shitty as that if i didnât know itâd make you lower your guard? tch, you really shoulda known better.â
you use every curse word youâve ever heard in that moment and grit your teeth, rapidly thinking through all the possible ways you could get out of this situation, but nothing comes to mind. youâre quite literally stuck in between a rock and a hard place, with a gun pressed to your head and with your limbs out of commission.Â
satoru clicks his tongue and widens his eyes at you, leaning in closer. his lips are uncomfortably close to your own as he traces the gun down the side of your face, cold metal brushing against your heated skin. ânot gonna fight back? thatâs no fun.â
âthe fuck you want me to do?â you snap irritably, glaring up at him and curling your hands into fists. satoru tightens his grip on your wrists and cooes a sarcastic apology to you, taking his time looking you up and down again. if you didnât value your life, you probably wouldâve said worse, but seeing as you were the only person in this ridiculously isolated alley, it wouldnât be worth much.Â
âi dunno. didnât that detective academy or whatever teach you anything?â
you roll your eyes again, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you consider the possibility of your eyes getting permanently stuck in the back of your head just because of him. âyâknow, youâre not giving me a whole lot of options.â
satoru laughs. âif i did, thatâd defeat the whole purpose, wouldnât it?â
at this point, death would be preferable to hearing his idiot talk any longer.
âso, iâm gonna be the one asking the questions from now on,â satoru continues, clicking his tongue disapprovingly when you scowl. âif you behave, i wonât hurt you that badly, âkay? keep that in mind.â
âthought you liked your girls feisty.â
âoh, thatâs true,â satoru muses thoughtfully. âyeah, never mind, you can be a little bratty. i need a reason to fuck you stupid anyways,â he grins after a moment of consideration.
âwhat the fuck?â
âyou heard me, sweetheart,â satoru cooes, feeling his pants tighten as he watches your eyes widen. your âtoughâ demeanor drops for a split second, and satoru canât help but want to fuck it off again when it returns. your scowl deepens and you frantically think through all your options again, but there isnât a whole lot you can do at this point.
âif you wanna stay alive, youâll be a good girl and you wonât scream,â satoru murmurs, leaning in closer and pressing his lips to yours. you grit your teeth and try to shove him away with your shoulder, but it doesnât do much. satoru smiles against your lips and hums softly, pulling away with an almost affectionate look on his face. itâs so at odds with who he is and what heâs done that you drop your guard again, wanting to believe that he really will keep his promise not to hurt you.
satoru sees the shift in your features and smiles tenderly, all traces of his borderline-sadistic look gone. he studies your face for a moment and kisses the corner of your mouth, letting his lips linger for a second before he pulls away again. âiâm gonna let your hands go now, mâkay?â when he drops your wrists, they fall limply on his shoulders as you warily study him, eyes wide with confusion. itâs jarring, the way he just⌠changed personalities within the span of a couple seconds. âiâm not gonna hurt you, pretty,â he breathes, dropping the gun and letting it fall to the floor with a loud thwak. âthisâll be a lot more fun for me if you donât resist, yeah?â
oh, fuck it.
âokay,â you murmur, ignoring every siren going off in your head. you donât really have any other options, and honestly, nobody was going to walk by and get you out of this sticky situation anytime soon. and satoru was pretty attractive⌠and you could just arrest him afterwards, right?
as if he read your mind, satoru smiles and promises, âyou can handcuff me after iâm done with you. just let me have a little fun one last time, baby.â
yeah, itâd be a stupid decision to believe the sweet-talker towering over you. thereâs no way heâs just going to let you drag him off to jail, but thereâs a reason heâs stayed out of the grasp of the law for so long. itâs hard to live a life as on-the-edge as being a serial killer, but the reason satoruâs survived for this long is because he knows how to use his words. he knows how to make a person go against every warning in their head, and he knows how to get what he wants.
which, for tonight, includes you.
âyou have thirtyâno, twenty minutes,â you mumble, knowing damn well that this would be the end of your career as a detective. whether or not you dragged satoru in after all this, you could never continue your work knowing you had sex with the biggest serial killer in the city.
satoru laughs and kisses you again, lips trailing down your face and settling on your neck. âhavenât i already made it clear that iâm the one in control here?â he muses as he slips his hands under your coat and tugs it off. it falls to the cold ground and bunches up around your feet, leaving you in a button-up shirt and flowy, dark pants. âcâmon, letâs get these clothes off you.â
within a minute, the rest of your clothes save for a black lacy pair of undergarments join your coat on the floor, and the chilly nighttime air nips at your skin. âiâm cold,â you mumble, feeling yourself involuntarily tense up everywhere but where satoruâs hands cloak your skin. satoru laughs in response and presses his knee to the spot in between your thighs, and something in you snaps at the point of contact.Â
âyou really are an idiot, arenât ya,â satoru scoffs, hand sliding down to your waist. his fingers latch on the waistband of your panties and he tugs them down, exposing your already-wet pussy to the cold evening air and his eyes. âlettinâ a serial killer fuck you in a dark alley⌠what kind of detective does that?â satoru spits on two of his fingers and slips them inside you, instantly groaning when he feels you clench around him. âfuck, you gotta be the tightest pussy iâve felt in a while,â he mutters, white hair falling into his eyes as he looks down shamelessly. âdo you not have sex with other guys?â
âdonât have time,â you swallow what wouldâve been an embarrassingly loud moan as his fingers go deeper and deeper. how long are this manâs fucking fingers?
âaw, look at you, youâre so cute,â satoru cooes, smiling down at your scrunched up face. you look back at him through squinted eyes, hips starting to roll against his fingers. itâs trueâyou really havenât had time to have sex given your already-insane schedule. itâs almost like you spent more time tracking the man whoâs now knuckle-deep inside you than sleeping, but the slutty part of your head tells you that it paid off.
ââm gonna cum,â you whine pitifully, squirming around satoruâs fingers as he curls them inwards, making you clench around him even tighter. a shiver runs over your body, starting from in between your thighs and spreading all over you as satoruâs fingers move back and forth inside your soaking wet cunt. âg-gojoââ
âcall me satoru, baby, and youâre not cumming until i say you can.â with that, satoru withdraws his fingers from your pussy with a pop! and grins at the way you glare at him sullenly. he mockingly pouts and licks his drenched fingers clean, tongue lapping up your essence. âheh, donât worry, iâll make you cum more than you knew you could once youâre stuffed with my cock.â
although youâve determined satoruâs âpromisesâ to be dubious at best, he fufills this one after heâs spread your legs wide open and positioned his cock at your entrance. âthis might hurt, baby, but remember, no screaming.â after you nod in acknowledgement, satoru slips his tip in and watches, amused, as you try to close your legs on reflex. âuh uh, keep âem nice and wide fâme,â satoru tuts disapprovingly.
and true to his word, it hurtsâa dull ache spreads throughout your legs as his dick goes farther and farther inside you, reaching places you hadnât felt in a long time. satoruâs hands settle somewhere on your waist as he pushes himself deeper, ignoring your gasps and pleas for him to slow down a little. your shaky hands move to his hair and you unwittingly pull on it, somehow eliciting a soft groan from satoruâs lips, and somewhere in the back of your mind you think that of course a serial killer has a hair pulling kinkâit just makes sense.Â
âs-satoru, it wonât fit,â you whisper, feeling satoru hit an especially tight spot in your cunt. even with how wet you are, it just feels like you canât possibly take any more of himâhe might as well be ten feet inside you, given the pain in your hips. but, as expected, satoru only smiles tauntingly down at you and murmurs words of encouragement as he somehow pushes past the barrier and gets all the way in amid your pained whimpers.
âyeah, thatâs it, knew you could do it,â satoru says sweetly, voice coated with poisonous honey. now that heâs all the way in, the ache from your waist down starts to fade into pleasure, especially as satoru starts moving himself in and out to get you used to the feeling of his dick. âjust like that, pretty girl. jusâ like that.â
soon enough, he sets an unexpectedly harsh pace that makes your back arch off the cold, brick wall behind you, and even as satoru tries to keep up his âcool serial killerâ act, you can hear his quivering breaths as he gets close to cumming. âshit, i forgot how fuckinâ good it felt to fuck a cunt this tightââ he mutters through gritted teeth. ââm gonna cum inside, âkay?â
you nod breathlessly, chasing your own pleasure and not actually listening to the words satoru murmurs in your ear. at this point, it didnât matterâall your pathetic little head could think about was satoruâs dick, and somehow, you forget that heâs a killer when he cums inside you. itâs hot and thick and it almost knocks you overâwhen was the last time you felt this good, if ever?
the coil in your stomach snaps and you cum with him, nodding along to satoruâs praises on how well youâre taking him. you squirt all over his painfully hard dick and suck in a sharp breath as you do so, body trembling from the force of both of your orgasms.
âsee, that wasnât so bad, was it?â satoru murmurs when you both come down from your highs, stroking your hair almost tenderly. you bob your head in response, face warm and eyes unable to properly focus. he stuffs his fingers back inside your puffy cunt and scoops the cum dripping down your thighs back inside, mumbling something about not letting a single drop go to waste. âwho knew the pretty detective iâd had my eye on would be this good to me?â he cooes, grinning snarkily.
satoruâs earlier promise floats through your head and you force yourself to look him in the eye. ây-you said youâd let me arrest you after,â you breathe, back still pressed to the wall as satoru surveys you amusedly.
âoh, sweetheart, youâre in no condition to be giving orders,â satoru says condescendingly, pulling up his pants and grinning at you. his cheeks are still flushed red, but whether thatâs from the cold nighttime air or from the heated sex, you donât quite know. âwe should do this again sometime,â he continues conversationally as he picks up your coat for you. despite the fact that youâre still naked and trembling, satoru drapes your coat around your shoulders and helps you button it up.
âbut you saidââ you protest, but satoru cuts you off with a raised eyebrow.
âyou didnât seriously believe me, did you?â satoru tuts, shaking his head. âiâm a serial killer. iâm not gonna turn myself in just âcause of a detectiveâs pretty pussy, baby. you shouldâve known better, doll.â satoru wraps an arm around your limp shoulders and tugs you in for a kiss, lips pressing firmly against your own for a couple seconds before he pulls away with a satisfied smile.
gojo x f!reader are in a semi established relationship aka idiots in love. reader is a teacher/sorcerer. reader is referred to as future wife in jest. angsty to start but gets sweet at the end. italics indicate readerâs internal thought. this is v self ship coded bc a girl has been Experiencing. wc 1.2k
divider thanks to @/cafekitsune
Why did I agree to stay and do this job in the first place?
The thought ricochets between the walls of your skull like a speeding marble, rolling so quickly itâs nothing but a technicolor blur that will settle wherever it wants when all is said and done. You donât have the luxury of a distraction tonight and after a terrible day, your confidence and what feels like your sanity is in splinters. It has felt like this for months if you dare to be honest with yourself and now the unavoidable wall of your own mind is in front of you.
The too hot shower you just finished that left you breathless and warm cheeked didnât rinse away anything except for the external grime. Your brain itself still feels thick and heavy, temples pounding while you shrug the robe wrapped around you to the tile floor below. It is far from your favorite thing to shower on campus but you had the intention of washing all the misery off and leaving it here rather than dragging it back to the currently empty apartment you share with Satoru. Heâs off on another mission hours and hours away from you and your bed feels like a labyrinth when he isnât sharing it.
A little voice in your head convinces you heâs taking these missions solely to get away from you in this state and you can hardly blame him. As hard as you work to keep a smile on your face, you fail more often than you succeed. The weight of said failures and struggles makes your head even heavier, resting atop your neck like a crown of thorns.
Itâs late and you havenât even bothered to think about how youâre going to get home from campus, still decompressing from your first solo mission in a while after being looked at by Shoko for minor bruising. The mission was completed successfully but it merely added to the weight of the loneliness and hurt youâve been feeling. Being responsible for ending suffering you didnât create is a heavy burden.
Your phone pings on the wooden bench in front of the lockers near the shower and you grab it, sniffling. Glancing at the screen, you gnaw your lower lip and a tear streams down your cheek. Youâve cried so much lately it never comes as a surprise when you start again.
Satoru: call me?
Normally his message and the use of the winking cat sticker in addition to the words would make you smile but you canât find it in you to do that tonight. Of course, heâs already heard about your failures. Youâre certain your employer, friends, and community keep him on speed dial to come and gather your pieces when you canât keep them together. You have doubts about how well meaning their intentions are; everyone loves a downfall after all and yours feels closer every day.
You: still at the school and canât talk. love you, be careful.
Someday Iâll push him away and it will stick.
One day, soon you imagine, Satoru will decide everyone was right about you all along. Youâre avoidant and selfish, a mess on a good day. Your bones are good but the flesh that covers them is rotten as a discarded plum, falling from the branches of the only home it has ever known, at the end of spring. You are no good. Not like him, even in his shades of light gray morality. Not like your fellow sorcerers. Not like your students.
Your phone pings again.
Satoru: why are you making me suffer???
Satoru: please please please please please~
You place the device face down and focus on changing into the extra set of clothes you always keep in your office. Sorcery is messy work and your shaking fingers fasten each of the buttons on the simple white top.
Why do I keep doing this?
Vibrations make your phone move across the wooden bench and you jump, picking it up with a sigh.
âWhat?â
A chuckle from the other end, one that instantly makes the tension in your shoulders relax, isnât as unwelcome as you assumed it would be when you refused to call him. You picture his smile when he laughs, the dimples you love to press your thumbs into. Even your tortured mind conjures memories of the delicate crinkle of his nose when he grins and the cleft in his chin.
âSomeone has her sassy pants on today.â
Sighing, you let the world roll off of your shoulders. Finally.
âTechnically I donât have any pants on right now.â
âWithout me?â He sighs and then remembers you said you were still on campus. You hear him shift wherever heâs at and you sit down on the bench, preparing to put your pants on, holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder. âWhy are you pantsless on campus? Is there something you need to tell me?â
A snort escaping in response, you smile for the first time in what feels like days. Truthfully it has only been a few hours, youâre a pro at keeping up appearances at the very least, but each has felt more and more forced.
âNope, just had to wash off some gore and didnât want to bring it home with me. Theyâll probably ask us to break the lease if we start washing curse chunks down the drain.â
He chuckles again and you want to be frustrated with how carefree he seems but find it difficult to hold his good nature against him.
âArenât you considerate?â
Sliding your pants on, you stand in a fluid motion and hop to settle them in place on your hips, fastening the button.
âSomething like that,â you mutter. Sitting back down on the bench, you cut to the chase. âWhen are you coming home?â
âWhy? Miss me?â
âTerribly.â
You respond flatly and suddenly your phone chimes, a request to video chat coming through from Gojo. Answering it, you donât bother to hide the wistful smile on your face and he grins at you from your bed at home.
âWell come home then, Iâve been waiting for you.â
âYou could have led with the fact youâre there.â
He twists his mouth to the side and shrugs. Rolling your eyes, you smile back at him. Itâs impossible to stay mad at someone you love so much it threatens to tear you into pieces when heâs gone for too long.
âI wanted to surprise you and it looks like I still managed to do it.â
âYeah, you still manage to do that a lot.â
âOh stop it, you might make me think that my future wife actually likes me.â
Giggling, your face warms at the insinuation heâs making. He can tell youâre feeling better now that his eyes are on you and the relief he feels is immeasurable.
âHurry, Iâm getting bored and you know what happens when I get like that.â
You know better than anyone that a bored boyfriend spells nonsense so you pack up the last of your things, ready to leave your troubles behind on campus just as you intended to start with. Self doubt, suspicion, distrust - itâs all gone as soon as he gives you his grace to carry on.
âDonât get antsy, Iâll be there soon.â
Another irresistible chuckle comes through your speakers and you feel lighter than air by the time you disconnect from the call and prepare to head home.
Heâs the moon that guides you through the darkest nights and tonight is clearly no exception, his cool and disarming light shining through all of your cracks to remind you things are brighter than you think.
synopsis: a bad idea disguised as a practical joke turns into something way deeper than you intended it to be.
wc: 1.1k
cw: just good ol fluff!
a/n: happy late birthday to my baby daddy and man of my dreams gojo satoru. i have to marry this man. i have to i have to i have to. anyways. enjoy reading this cute little fic i wrote, meaning i thought abt gojo proposing as a joke and vomited this out. enjoy!
it starts, like all things involving gojo satoru, with a bad idea disguised as a practical joke.
you're sitting across from him, in a restaurant thatâs not too fancy, more of a family-type deal. he's forgone his blindfold in favor of his square-framed glasses, but his uniform is still on. he insisted on treating you to dinner after you exorcized an unregistered special grade on your own. however, with gojo, things can't always be so easy; he always adds his patented gojo twist to things, and this time the twist is this terrible joke.
âcome on, it'll be funny!â he whines, from across the table.
âyou want to propose to me in this restaurant for free food? when you make well over six figures a year? and have full access to thousands of years of old clan money?â you ask, incredulously, reaching to take a sip of your drink, suddenly wishing you had gone with a stronger option.
âyes, exactly. what's not clicking?â
âuhmmm, all of it?â
âlook it'll be funny. you could even say no, then you can run out and i get free food as pity points,â he smiles at you, and you find it hard to keep saying no. âi mean, they'll probably all call you heartless and tell me i deserve better but that's fine.â
âokay and if i say yes, what about a ring? or the fact that we're not even together? how is anyone going to believe you?â you ask, thinking you've backed him into a corner, until he just sighs softly, keeping an easy smile, and reaches into his pocket. he pulls out a black velvet box, and shakes it a bit by his head.
âyou think i hadn't planned for that?â he asks, smirking in your direction, trying to hold back laughter at your aghast expression, you drag a palm over your face, finally conceding.
âokay. fine! fine! justâŚtry not to embarrass me. please?â
âno promises! also the waitress is coming this way, so get ready. tears are optional but preferred.â
you roll your eyes at his statement, your gaze following him closely when he stands up and walks over to your side of the table. you look around desperately hoping that no one will actually have their attention drawn to you but the thing about gojo is wherever he goes he commands attention. consequently, when he stands at a whopping 6â7 everyoneâs already looking, and when he drops down on one knee in front of you, holding that little velvet box in front of you, you catch peopleâs smartphones shooting up immediately, great. and you're sure the vision of jujutsuâs strongest sorcerer, taking off his sunglasses and holding up a ring box to you would haunt you forever. you think right under reverse cursed technique in his list of talents, they should add acting, because the look in his eyes almost feels real.
the way your name falls so delicately from his lips, before he clears his throat, feigning nervousness. the way he struggles at first to look you in the eyes, the ring sparkling in the dim lighting. he starts:
âyou are truly the most beautiful woman i've ever met, inside and out. to know you and love you is a pleasure too great for words, and i want to continue living in it every day. will you marry me?â you roll your eyes, but the smile across your face is genuine, maybe he was right, maybe this is funny. so you have no issue, saying yes, throwing your arms around his neck as he spins you around, delicately sliding the ring onto your finger. the two of you giggle all the way back to jujutsu tech, containers of your free leftovers in hand.
and so it becomes a tradition.
satoru continues to propose to you every time the two of you get the chance to have dinner together, and despite all your better judgment, you laugh and say yes every time.
and what started as a joke, turned tradition, starts to morph into something else.
satoru notices it on a summer day. you're out with the students, supervising them as they spar. the sunâs been beating down for days, he's standing beside you his eyes trained on your hands. your left ring finger has a tan line, it's from that ring. you're not wearing it, you returned it to him last night, forgetting to give it back after dinner and then desperately trying to get your schedules to align for at least five minutes, but he'd been out of town for a week and when he finally got back late last night to find you working on paperwork in your office, he didn't know why it felt like his heart sank when you slid the ring off and put it in his hand.
now, the box feels heavy in his pocket (when did he start carrying it all the time?) and he looks at you with so much adoration that had his blindfold not been on, he'd look like a love-struck puppy to any passerby. you'd been wearing the ring so much it's left a mark on you, it's obvious you'd been wearing it, the tan line a stark reminder that it was there; and something about it makes satoru wish he could make the next proposal permanent. you turn your head to him, smiling softly.
âthe first years are something else this year, gojo, did you see yuuji and maki spar? they're going places,â
and he's not sure why but before he can stop himself he's blurting out:
âlet me take you on a date.â
you sputter and falter, turning fully to look at him, âare you being serious?â
he nods, that goofy smile of his making you weak to his every whim, it's the same one he gave you that night at that dinner table; the same one that made you start this tradition.
so he takes you out, and then that becomes a tradition. still every day, he thinks of the way that ring looked on you whenever he slid it on your finger, and how he felt rejected every time you gave it back. he'd clear his schedule if he knew he could have dinner with you, just to see the smile you couldn't stop whenever he got down on one knee.
satoru doesn't propose anymore. he figures the next time he does it, he should be serious about it since you're his girl now. on a tuesday night, you're sitting with him on the couch, your legs are thrown over his lap and he looks at you, focused so intently on a book you've been dying to finish, the bookmark always staying near the end as you get called into emergency exorcisms, and he knows. he fishes that ring out of his pocket, the same one he gave you in that restaurant almost two years ago, and there's no fanfare, no cameras, no theatrics. he just opens the box, looks at you, and says,
âhey baby, let's get married.â
and just like the first time, you smile and say yes.
synopsis: a bad idea disguised as a practical joke turns into something way deeper than you intended it to be.
wc: 1.1k
cw: just good ol fluff!
a/n: happy late birthday to my baby daddy and man of my dreams gojo satoru. i have to marry this man. i have to i have to i have to. anyways. enjoy reading this cute little fic i wrote, meaning i thought abt gojo proposing as a joke and vomited this out. enjoy!
it starts, like all things involving gojo satoru, with a bad idea disguised as a practical joke.
you're sitting across from him, in a restaurant thatâs not too fancy, more of a family-type deal. he's forgone his blindfold in favor of his square-framed glasses, but his uniform is still on. he insisted on treating you to dinner after you exorcized an unregistered special grade on your own. however, with gojo, things can't always be so easy; he always adds his patented gojo twist to things, and this time the twist is this terrible joke.
âcome on, it'll be funny!â he whines, from across the table.
âyou want to propose to me in this restaurant for free food? when you make well over six figures a year? and have full access to thousands of years of old clan money?â you ask, incredulously, reaching to take a sip of your drink, suddenly wishing you had gone with a stronger option.
âyes, exactly. what's not clicking?â
âuhmmm, all of it?â
âlook it'll be funny. you could even say no, then you can run out and i get free food as pity points,â he smiles at you, and you find it hard to keep saying no. âi mean, they'll probably all call you heartless and tell me i deserve better but that's fine.â
âokay and if i say yes, what about a ring? or the fact that we're not even together? how is anyone going to believe you?â you ask, thinking you've backed him into a corner, until he just sighs softly, keeping an easy smile, and reaches into his pocket. he pulls out a black velvet box, and shakes it a bit by his head.
âyou think i hadn't planned for that?â he asks, smirking in your direction, trying to hold back laughter at your aghast expression, you drag a palm over your face, finally conceding.
âokay. fine! fine! justâŚtry not to embarrass me. please?â
âno promises! also the waitress is coming this way, so get ready. tears are optional but preferred.â
you roll your eyes at his statement, your gaze following him closely when he stands up and walks over to your side of the table. you look around desperately hoping that no one will actually have their attention drawn to you but the thing about gojo is wherever he goes he commands attention. consequently, when he stands at a whopping 6â7 everyoneâs already looking, and when he drops down on one knee in front of you, holding that little velvet box in front of you, you catch peopleâs smartphones shooting up immediately, great. and you're sure the vision of jujutsuâs strongest sorcerer, taking off his sunglasses and holding up a ring box to you would haunt you forever. you think right under reverse cursed technique in his list of talents, they should add acting, because the look in his eyes almost feels real.
the way your name falls so delicately from his lips, before he clears his throat, feigning nervousness. the way he struggles at first to look you in the eyes, the ring sparkling in the dim lighting. he starts:
âyou are truly the most beautiful woman i've ever met, inside and out. to know you and love you is a pleasure too great for words, and i want to continue living in it every day. will you marry me?â you roll your eyes, but the smile across your face is genuine, maybe he was right, maybe this is funny. so you have no issue, saying yes, throwing your arms around his neck as he spins you around, delicately sliding the ring onto your finger. the two of you giggle all the way back to jujutsu tech, containers of your free leftovers in hand.
and so it becomes a tradition.
satoru continues to propose to you every time the two of you get the chance to have dinner together, and despite all your better judgment, you laugh and say yes every time.
and what started as a joke, turned tradition, starts to morph into something else.
satoru notices it on a summer day. you're out with the students, supervising them as they spar. the sunâs been beating down for days, he's standing beside you his eyes trained on your hands. your left ring finger has a tan line, it's from that ring. you're not wearing it, you returned it to him last night, forgetting to give it back after dinner and then desperately trying to get your schedules to align for at least five minutes, but he'd been out of town for a week and when he finally got back late last night to find you working on paperwork in your office, he didn't know why it felt like his heart sank when you slid the ring off and put it in his hand.
now, the box feels heavy in his pocket (when did he start carrying it all the time?) and he looks at you with so much adoration that had his blindfold not been on, he'd look like a love-struck puppy to any passerby. you'd been wearing the ring so much it's left a mark on you, it's obvious you'd been wearing it, the tan line a stark reminder that it was there; and something about it makes satoru wish he could make the next proposal permanent. you turn your head to him, smiling softly.
âthe first years are something else this year, gojo, did you see yuuji and maki spar? they're going places,â
and he's not sure why but before he can stop himself he's blurting out:
âlet me take you on a date.â
you sputter and falter, turning fully to look at him, âare you being serious?â
he nods, that goofy smile of his making you weak to his every whim, it's the same one he gave you that night at that dinner table; the same one that made you start this tradition.
so he takes you out, and then that becomes a tradition. still every day, he thinks of the way that ring looked on you whenever he slid it on your finger, and how he felt rejected every time you gave it back. he'd clear his schedule if he knew he could have dinner with you, just to see the smile you couldn't stop whenever he got down on one knee.
satoru doesn't propose anymore. he figures the next time he does it, he should be serious about it since you're his girl now. on a tuesday night, you're sitting with him on the couch, your legs are thrown over his lap and he looks at you, focused so intently on a book you've been dying to finish, the bookmark always staying near the end as you get called into emergency exorcisms, and he knows. he fishes that ring out of his pocket, the same one he gave you in that restaurant almost two years ago, and there's no fanfare, no cameras, no theatrics. he just opens the box, looks at you, and says,
âhey baby, let's get married.â
and just like the first time, you smile and say yes.
my love, mine all mine | tooth rotting fluff, honeymoon. 0.4k
a/n: just a lil something about trans people being in love. i had non binary reader in mind, but this is for anyone who likes hange. am i back to tumblr? who knows...
Hange Zoe is a lot of things.Â
Impulsive, for starters. Curious, too. They have a need for knowledge and thirst for discovery that you havenât seen in anyone else, ever. They are kind, too â perhaps too gentle and bright for this world. A heart so full of love, constantly pumping with passion: for science, for life, for you.Â
âCould youâŚ?â Zoe wordlessly asks, holding a bottle of sunscreen and pointing to their naked back.Â
âYeah, of course.â
Itâs a small hotel room, filled with minimalistic furniture. Basic, white and beige. Still, for the last couple of days, Hange has managed to make a mess of it: thereâs books, clothes, and bags. It doesnât bother you, however. It only makes this trip more endearing.Â
Your hands are sticky from sunscreen, yet you smile at them, feeling your loverâs warmth all over your palms. It stains you, beautifully so.Â
âAll done, love.â
Hange turns around, cheeks tainted pink and a smile blossoming on their face. The typical oval glasses that adorn their face are discarded on the bedside table. Now, their gaze is blurred, but they still smile at you.Â
âThanks, pookie.â Hange kisses your cheek, placing a hand to your waist. You giggle at the stupid nickname they gave you a couple of years ago, after your third official date. âI love you.â
You smile, stupidly.Â
âI love you.â
The gold rings adorning both yours and Hangeâs fingers is only proof of how much. You remember confessing your undying love for them before taking them on a date. Honestly, you have loved them ever since you were born â no, actually before that. Because thereâs no way you came to this world, willingly or not, for any other reason than loving Hange Zoe.Â
âYour turn now, babe.â
Taking your shirt off, you turn around.Â
Zoe repeats the ritual once performed on them, the caring and loving hands now helping protect your skin from the unforgiving sun that will eventually face you today at the beach.Â
Their touch comes along with memories, of times in which you would stare in the mirror and not recognize yourself, times in which love sounded like a lie instead of a promise, times in which you couldnât picture yourself happy. Or alive.Â
Thereâs still a bit of sunscreen staining your wedding ring, but you donât care. Your love for Hange is splayed all over it.
pairing: missionary!gojo satoru x f!reader
wc: 3.0k
where satoru speaks for god, and your body speaks for itself.
warning: 18+ NSFT, tw sacrilege/religious imagery, heâs kinda scummy, praise, oral (giving and receiving), unprotected sex, lil' bit of manipulation, probably too many biblical references idk
note: love priests, but what about weird missionaries? this was supposed to end darker but i was like eh maybe next time
You did not go into this life thinking you would end up dating a missionary.Â
You didnât open the door expecting to actually accept the pamphlet he handed you, decorated with crosses, or to look him dead in the eye and nod when he told you to give him a call when you wanted to find faith again. You didnât think he would answer when you did, either, not after he saw the interesting face you gave him.Â
But you called, anyway.Â
You call, Satoru answers â itâs what he told you God does. You call and He will answer you. Did you get to that part?Â
You didnât pay a lot of attention in your read, not really interested in religion or finding God, but it was Satoru that intrigued you enough to open it. Something in his eyes, or whatever they say.Â
Phone calls became regular occurrences. Sometimes, he would even call first, having mundane conversations before tacking on a Bible quote at the end so it didnât seem so unprofessional to talk to you for so long.Â
Agh, Iâll have to call you later. Remember that Heâs the bread of life and whoever comes to Him shall not hunger!
And then youâd sigh, and then heâd hang up.Â
But eventually, he insisted on meeting you for coffee. So you did, hesitant when you got there, but you were soon settled. He wasnât in that cross logoâd t-shirt that he wore when you first met him, nothing like that at all. Instead, he was wearing normal clothing â crewneck, pants that for once didnât belong with a suit, sneakers.Â
âHey!â he said. âSorry Iâm a little late. Trafficâs insane, isnât it?â Then he talked to you, and not once did he mention his job.
It didnât take you very long to become smitten. He wasnât like you expected â he wasnât some rigid goodie-two-shoes coming from the Bible Belt or whatever you first thought, but he was shockingly normal. Typical guy, really, if not even better.
Now, here you sit on the couch, grinning like a child as you text him to get home.
hurry up i wanna watch this movie :L
Geez, youâre impatient. Canât you wait?
maybe iâll just start it without you then
Be a good girl and sit tight ;)
You swallow at his message, biting your cheek before tossing your phone down on the couch.
If thereâs one thing that you can say is actually different about Gojo, itâs the fact that youâve been dating for almost six months and you havenât fucked him yet.
Thereâs no issue with his celibacy for you, you can take care of yourself and he loves you in other ways, but itâs just different. What once was a large part of your past relationships is now something so insignificant, and it doesnât bother you.
But sometimes, like this one, Gojo makes it hard.
He calls you pet names that seem so incriminating, and teases you without a second thought. It drives you insane and it must drive him happy, because all he does is laugh it off while you sit in a pool of flustered embarrassment and hot cheeks.
Heâll cook with you in the kitchen, eyeing the way you frost the fresh cupcakes he just took out of the oven, so quick to grab you by the wrist and pop your vanilla-covered thumb into his mouth, looking into your eyes when he âharmlesslyâ bites the tip of it and pulls away.
( You taste so sweet, baby. Keep it up! )
You grunt to yourself, walking off to your bedroom and flopping onto the bed, staring at the ceiling and cursing your head.
You knew from the beginning that Satoru was gonna be the death of you, but you never anticipated that heâd kill you like this â when heâs not even around to watch you die.
All that consumes your mind is him; the way he smirks when he beats you at your favourite board game, or his low chuckle when you get annoyed at the way he toys with you. The way he reclines back on the couch when he gets home, complaining about something he did that day, or the way he rolls his sleeves up before he helps you make dinner.
Before you know it, youâre slowly slipping your pants down your legs, tossing them on the floor and dropping your hand between your legs.
Your breath knots when you cup your pussy, rolling your hips into your hand with a hum as you press your head back into the pillow. Youâve touched yourself, sure, but not in the freedom of your bed in a while. This is the bed you share with Gojo, after all, and thereâs obvious things preventing you from doing this in front of him.
âFuck,â you whisper to yourself, shutting your eyes and picturing all that he is. Muscled arms, taut shoulders, long fingers, piercing eyes â you spread your legs wider, letting your hand move under your shirt, whining as you grope your chest. âSatoru,â
Dragging a finger through your lips, you slowly push it into your begging cunt, picturing itâs his finger curling inside of you. Picturing that itâs Satoru, your God-given Satoru, whoâs finger-fucking you so you can take his cock later, whispering âgood girlâ in your ear and telling you to keep going. Who has stopped teasing you, and doesnât want to keep you waiting.
ââToru,â you breathe, the squelch of your pussy being the only thing in that room besides you and your panting. âOh, âToru,â
âWow, why donât you say my name like that more often?â
Your eyes go wide and you sit up so fast that you get dizzy, your fingers disappearing from your cunt quicker than they were there. âSatoru!? Whââ
âI called, but you didnât answer,â he says simply, stepping forward from the doorway, his hands in his pockets. âWhich makes sense, your phone is on the couch.â
âIââ
âAnd I knocked. You didnât hear me, though.â
You just about die.
Sitting up, you tug your shirt down, scrambling to pull your panties back up your legs as tells well in your eyes. You know that, deep down, there is nothing to be ashamed of â you were in your own bed, in your own home. Why are you so humiliated?
Gojo must notice, because he braces your shoulders with a frown, turning you towards him when you try to run off and dig a hole somewhere. âHey, whatâs wrong? Itâs okay.â
âNo,â you mumble, trying to pull his hands off of you, blinking away salty tears. His hands donât budge. âJust let me goââ
âWhatâs wrong, hm?â he asks, his voice quiet and his eyebrows furrowed. âYouâre not embarrassed, are you?â
You purse your lips, shrugging and stiffly shaking your head.
He tilts his own. âAshamed?â
You donât reply.
Gojo sighs, letting go and slowly moving over to the bed. You want to shrivel up when he examines where you laid before, sitting down on the edge and looking back to you.
Contrary to what you thought, he smiles. âCome here, okay?â
Your brain is telling you to run, but his eyes drag you back to stay. You cautiously make your way over to your bedside, stopping when youâre standing in front of him. Your legs are crossed where you stand, your arms crossed over your nipples poking through your t-shirt, trying to will the hem to be longer.
âWhat are you ashamed of?â he asks you, eyes pinning you in place in a humiliating way. He doesnât mean it, you think, but it doesnât make it any less hard.
âI-I dunno,â
âAre you scared?â
âNo!â
âGood,â he says, smiling at you again, reaching out. âBut youâre ashamed. You feel bad?â
You bite the inside of your cheek, nodding hesitantly. No, you never really feel this way, not really worried about what higher beings think of you fingering yourself in bed by yourself. But, for some reason, the thought swims laps in your head now. You want to run away.
âItâs okay, sweetheart,â Gojo says, grasping your hand when you give it to him, drawing you closer with his gentle hold. âEveryone loses track of themselves, itâs normal.â
Your lip quivers, but you nod. Fuck knows why youâre nodding, but you do.
Gojo purses his lips, sighing through them like a filter. You donât miss his eyes flickering down to the bows that peek out from under your shirt. âThere are other ways to be closer to God, you know?â
You blink, sniffling with a shrug. âHow?â
Gojoâs tongue darts out over his lip, his teeth digging into his lip like heâs stuck in thought. His legs slightly part themselves, and youâre drawn forward, closer towards him and his pleading eyes.
âI can show you.â His voice is quiet, like he doesnât want God to hear. âBut only if you want me to.â
You donât know why you donât think, but instead you just do, nodding and smiling back when he does so to you. His thumbs run over your skin, bringing you in close, leaving goosebumps in their wake; he looks up into your eyes.
âKneel,â he murmurs, holding your hands in his as he watches you slowly drop to your knees. âDo you pray?â
You shake your head. âNo.â
âSo this is just for me?â
Your eyes flicker between his face and the hand of his that undoes his belt buckle, tugging it out through his belt loops with eerily practiced ease. Do they teach that in Sunday school now? âYes,â you answer.
He breathes out a laugh, or a curse, or a prayer. You donât exactly catch it. âGood.â
Your heart skips a beat, settling on your knees as you watch his hand palm himself over his pants. He leans back on his other hand, the button of his pants popping open when his fingers fiddle with it. Then, he slides down the zipper, and you donât have to look up to feel how his eyes train on you.Â
âCome closer,â he says, voice strained and cock visibly hard. âThatâs what you want to be, right? Closer?â
âYeah,â you breathe, his thumb grazing over your lip. âSatoru,â
âI know,â he says. He reaches his hand into his pants, breathing a chuckle when your hands rest on his thighs, palming his cock before pulling it out of his boxers. Your lips are so close that you almost drool. âThis is what you want.â
âYes,â you reply, nodding like youâre just doing it for fun. âYes, Iââ
âYou know what to do, then, donât you?â
You stop dead in your tracks, your hands rubbing up and down on the top of your thighs.Â
(You suppose that, right now, there may be better uses for your mouth.)
Itâs not a very long time that you hesitate, because Gojo looks at you like thereâs no time to waste when youâre between his legs, âgetting closer,â practically drooling at the sight of him. You spit in your hand, pumping him up and down, your mouth finding him quick.Â
Gojoâs head tilts back, a low moan coming out in reverb, his eyes fixed on where your lips wrap around him.Â
âSuch a little slut,â he says casually, âjust wait âtil youâre forgiven, baby.â
You whine around him; he grips your hair with a strong hand, his jaw hanging slack.Â
You lean your head on his thigh, licking his tip, whimpering at the taste of his precum; youâve craved this â how wrong is that?
ââToruâŚâ
âYou donât trust me?â he says, barely focused, his eyes lidded with something carnal. âThis is how it works, baby, trust.â
His trustworthy hand guides your mouth back onto his cock, pushing you until you gag and your nose rests against his happy trail. âLet me do the talkin,â keep going.â
Youâre determined now â you swallow around him, drink him in like a rush of gold. He controls the pace with his hand on the back of your skull, his hips jerking forward; your mascara streams down your face and all Gojo can do is deep breathing.Â
âOh, baby,â he groans, âyou cry like an angel. Youâre so â God, gonna let me cum? Yeah?â
You canât speak, hardly can you breathe, so you just squeeze your eyes shut and nod, even though his hips were shaking and his cock twitching before you could say anything, anyway.Â
Gojo cums with a shudder and his words sound nothing like prayer. You pull at his wrist, managing to make him let go, toppling back with a cough and gasp for air, his cum on your tongue and on your lips. You lick it clean.Â
âMy God, baby,â he says, his breathing slowing again. Gojo leans forward, his hands cupping your face. âUp on the bed for me, go.â
You nod dutifully, standing, being pulled onto the rickety mattress the second you hit your feet. Your legs are numb from being bent and Gojoâs pushing them apart, his fingers in your panties and his eyes full of hunger. Isnât this sin?
ââToru, Iââ
âLook at me,â he says, his hand gripping your jaw. âDo you believe in me?â
You hesitate, brows knitting together. âYou, or God?â
Gojo smiles. âDo you believe in me?â
Your panties slip down your legs, his knuckles grazing your skin as they do. Lace falls to the floor and his lips kiss your swollen clit, gently sucking on it until you make a sound.Â
You clasp a hand over your mouth. A cross hangs over bed, Satoru grips your thighs from down the bed; God watches you from above and below.
(Yes, you say, I believe in you.)
Gojo hums into your cunt, his nails digging into your hip bones, his tongue lapping up your pussy like itâs his sworn duty. He murmurs something into the inside of your thigh, circling your clit with his thumb.
âAh, Satoru,â
âFuck, say my name,â he groans, âI need to hear it,â
You arch your back, feeling your stomach coil; his hand under your thigh, his mouth on your cunt, his thumb not slowing down â you come through the gates crashing.
âSatoru!â you gasp, crying out as you cum on his tongue. He drinks you up like wine, the bed creaking from the way he grinds his cock into the mattress, the hand on your leg massaging the flesh there until itâs red. âS-Stop, I canâtââ
âNo, you can take it, angel,â he corrects, pressing kisses up your body, pushing your shirt up as he goes. âYou can take me, canât you? Yeah, baby, you can.â
âI canât, mââ
âYes, you can.â Gojo breathes his words into your sternum, his cock throbbing against your inner thigh. âYou asked for this,â
You gasp, feeling his tip cock prod at your needy cunt, his fingers tweaking your nipple. You spread your legs further. âFuck,â
He scoffs, dropping his head as he slowly pushes into you, grinning at the way you writhe up into his chest. âYou donât think I heard you?â he taunts. âMoaning in the bathroom when I was praying? Thinking the shower hides it well enough? Desperate, and now youâre getting what you wanted so goddamn fucking bad.â
His pace is unforgiving, your eyes watering at the lack of time given to get used to his cock. You havenât fucked anyone in a while â not while youâve been honouring his âcelibacyâ â and the stretch is almost too much.Â
âSatoru! Fuck!â you cry into his hand, panting into his palm as he smiles down at you.Â
âGod, youâre so hot when you cry,â he breathes, his eyes moving down to where he disappears into your weeping pussy. âAngel tears, baby,â
âMmm!â
âHeâs watching you,â he murmurs against your jaw, âwatching me fuck you â youâre such a good girl for me,â
Gojo takes his hand away from your mouth, finally letting you breathe, his spit-covered hand gripping your hip. Your head presses back into the pillow above you, eyes fluttering shut. âSatoru, please,âÂ
âShit, thatâs good,â he groans, âyou sound so good when you beg, donât stop,â
He grunts when you clamp down on him, his thumb pressing in on your puffy clit, and his eyes shut in pleasure as you grip his forearms. Gojoâs eyes fix on your bouncing tits, your glassy eyes, your pretty face; the sight alone has his cock throbbing, let alone how tight youâre gripping him.Â
âWhere should I cum, huh?â he asks, though something tells you heâs not asking. âMaybe I should fill up this little pussy,â
âYesââ
âFuck,â he groans, a shudder going down his spine. The squelch of your cunt sucking him in is only getting louder. âThatâs it, baby, we gotta do it right don't we?"
You choke out a sob, a coil forming in your stomach. âIââ
âMâgonna cum,â he says, ignoring you, speeding up his pace. âCome on, angel, cum for me,â
You bite your lip, your stomach still clenching, the pressure building until itâs unbearable; youâre blown to kingdom come when Gojo grips your jaw, turning your head, sucking on your collarbone.
The shriek of his name you let out and the way your pussy grips him is enough to send him over, cum spilling into you until his slow thrusts push it back out, sweat pilling on your hairline.Â
Gojoâs lips kiss over the bruised flesh on your skin, up your neck, across your cheek; they reach your lips he kisses you like it started as a lump in his throat, like a prayer.Â
âThere you are, angel,â he murmurs against your temple, pulling out of you to watch his cum seep back out after him. He grins when you squirm.Â
âDo you really think once is enough to make it right?â
AM I (27M) THE ASSHOLE FOR FUCKING MY CRUSH (25F) AT MY BEST FRIENDâS CHRISTMAS PARTY?
content: geto suguru x female reader, exhibitionism, vaginal fingering, piv sex, doggy, throat grabbing (but no actual choking), terms used are sweet girl, sweetheart, baby, good girl), all lowercase. word count: 2k+
suguru knows you like him.
he knows that every polite smile and hug come from a place of wanting as opposed to casual affection towards a friend. to anyone else in your circle, youâre just being kind when you grab him his favorite drink or help him run errands with his twin daughters in tow. but, sweetheart, suguru knows. heâs known for a while, actually.
from an outsiders point of view, your relationship is strictly platonic. but if you look close enough? youâll see it, too.
you both hug like any other pair of friends, your arms wrapping around his neck as he pulls you in by your waist. your palm drags across his shoulder to rest against his neck, the slight chill of your favorite ring causes goosebumps to shift up his spine as your cheek presses against his.
from the look in your eyes youâd think you were fairly neutral about the interaction â but (again) suguru knows you like him. you ever so covertly caress his hair. your cheeks are hot as they touch his.
your blood doesnât lie.
so he feels that heâs justified in his actions. you want him and he clearly needs you. whatâs the harm in acting on such simple desires? even if itâs at satoruâs christmas party; with a full table and mid-conversation. you didnât push him away, you shifted your thighs even wider when his fingertips grazed your smooth skin. you shuddered in delight when he moved your panties to the side, knuckles knocking against the wooden chair as your sweet nectar soiled the surface.
even with his intentions clear, suguru waits for you to tell him itâs okay, fingers slowly petting your soaked lips, ignoring your sensitive bud. the idea of coaxing you from that shell of insecurity and hesitance makes his cock throb against his pants.
âsuguru? what are you doing?â your voice hurried, anxious.
his gaze stays forward, his tongue poking out from his lips to hide his smile. âhm?â he asks, voice soft and heavy with amusement. âwhat do you think, sweet girl?â
your hand is cold and damp from the glass of cider you start to chug, a bit of the liquid dripping from the side of your mouth that you quickly wipe away. your nerves are through the roof, thighs tingling as you lean a bit further back into your chair.
everyone seem occupied already, focused on the festive christmas music and mini feast in front of them. satoruâs voice is louder and slurred with alcohol. heâs arguing playfully with utahime, holding a mistletoe over her head that she fails to reach â youâre thankful that the sounds of her whines cover up yours.
you move your chilled hand to rest on suguruâs, shifting his position up to move against your clit. god, you were practically throbbing against him.
he wastes no time in rubbing the pads of his fingertips against your soft flesh, the angle causing his forearm to press against your thigh and effectively hold you in place.
you can almost hear how wet you are, feel flicks of your arousal hit the tablecloth youâre clutching and your exposed inner thighs. âso messy,â suguru murmurs, âdo you know much satoru loves these chairs? theyâre mahogany, you know.â
âsu, please be quiet.â you hiss, eyes darting to watch if anyone is aware of your deeds. after so many rounds of eggnog, even nanamiâs eyes are glazed over as he leans back and nurses another mug. heâs talking to his wife, lips closing in on her ear in a conversation you canât make out.
âbut you arenât being quiet, are you? i mean just listen to how this pussy takes my fingersâŚâ he eases two of his digits inside of you and the intrusion feels almost too good. you glance down and see his large, thick hand thrusting in and out of you. itâs obscene and better than you imagined.
the filthy sounds of your cunt sucking him in is all you can focus on as you lean forward, forehead pressing against your arm. you can even smell yourself, mixed in with the hint of cinnamon and sharp pine in the air.
âplease,â you gasp out, âthey canât know weâre doing thisââ
âshh,â he tells you, âiâm keeping watch. just let me make you feel good⌠donât think about it right now.â
despite his words, your mind is screaming for you to beg for an explanation. the man youâd been pining over for a year is fingering you at the annual christmas party, for gods sake. he canât possibly like you like that, right?
suguru was kind to everyone, protective and strong towards all of his friends. surely he massages everyoneâs scalp when they feel stressed and he presses sweet kisses to everyoneâs cheek when they need encouragement. you can only assume that he also⌠touches everyone this way, that he has had many of friends reaching their breaking point with just his fingers.
you feel the tight coil in your stomach press even harder against you, a heavy need begging to claw itself from your skin. suguru doesnât know your tells, hasnât spent hours between your legs in the same way you have⌠but heâs intuitive like that. always aware and watching even when no one else is. his hand quickly leaves from its place between your legs and before you can protest, you feel a hand gently rest on your shoulder.
âyo, are you feeling alright?â
shokoâs voice startles you back to reality but you decide to stay in place, posture rigid. she doesnât sound suspicious, not in that very shoko way that tells you she knows something that you donât. no, her voice is laced with genuine concern, a tone you recognize as something she uses with patients. you clear your throat to speak but suguru beats you to the punch.
âhad a little too much cider, i fear. iâm gonna go put her in the guest room. help her sober up a little.â
he leans in close, asking if you can stand in the same way he would an injured deer. when you nod, you feel him lift your arm around his shoulder, hear shoko pull your chair back. it isnât hard to pretend to be drunk when you already feel like your head is made of mush.
suguru is quick to move you to the side, pushing back your chair himself so that it rests firmly under the table. your dress is disheveled, but not as high on your thighs as before. your panties still rest to the side. your thighs feel sticky.
as suguru manouvers you down the hallway, you hear shoko responding to party goers about where you both were heading off to. suguru is a good guy, heâd never harm you while you were in a drunken state. they had nothing to worry about, you were in good hands.
âyou know⌠if you werenât so sneaky in your desires, i wouldnât have had to tease you like that. next time, tell me what you want.â
ânext time?â you muse, âso.. there will be a next time?â
suguru chuckles, pushing open the bedroom door and ushering you inside. when the door clicks behind you both, his hands are quickly at your hips, tugging up your dress until it bunches at your waist. you just barely hear his belt unbuckle. âyes. iâm assuming that you also want to fuck in satoruâs guest room?â
you nod quickly, at an almost embarrassing level of speed. âyeah, but we have to be quickâ!â
your voice is cut off by the feeling of your front being pressed into thick, expensive sheets. when you werenât looking at him, it was much easier. your soft whines and whimpers were too soft and muted for suguru to focus on them. but now, with his bare cock rubbing against your heat â his tip pressing against your clit and causing you to cream against his length⌠he finds himself feeling dizzy at the mere thought of you. his hand grips your hip firmly, the other lining himself up with your cunt.
âstay still fâme,â suguru murmurs, âgonna make sure i fuck you nice and deep.â
a thick, dreamy heat builds in your belly, the satisfaction of finally being beneath him. you know youâre too far gone when he finally enters you, leaning down until his hands intertwine with yours and his cock sheathes to the hilt.
âsugu!â you yelp, quickly biting your lip to muffle your moan. you can still hear the christmas music and chatter of the party, hoping they didnât hear you.
sugur presses hot, open mouthed kisses to your neck until he reaches you earlobe. he tugs on the skin, sucking it into his mouth as he begins to thrust in and out of you. âsuch a perfect fucking pussy. she needed me so badly, practically forced me in.â
your mouth gapes open as his paces quickens ever so slightly, the soft clap of his hips meeting your ass loud in the empty room. your nails dig into the soft sheets and your head twists to catch his lips in a kiss.
itâs only in this moment that you realize itâs the first one youâve shared all night.
suguruâs tongue is hot and all consuming, exploring your mouth while leaving just enough room to caress your lips with his own. âsuch a good girl,â he murmurs against them, âsuch a sweet, sweet girl for letting me fuck her like this.â
the praise makes you mewl against his mouth, the drag of his cock causing tears to pool in your eyes. he was so thick and strong on top of you. you know youâd be writhing against the bed if he didnât make you take everything he was giving you so ardently.
a strong arm wraps around your waist, reaching down to tease your clit. you gasp, choking on the spit thatâs pooled in your mouth as you fall forward and rest on your cheek. âg-gonna c-cum, su. s-so good, make me cum please!â
you hear your companion growl against your skin, soiled fingers just barely touching his cock as he brings you to the edge. âi know, baby. i know you need it. such a good girl asking for permission.â
he pants against your cheek, hair releasing from it top knot so that his bangs tickle your skin. you can smell the conditioner he uses, soft and masculine in a way thatâs so suguru you canât help but gush around him.
you cum so suddenly that you can barely talk, a silent moan is all you have to give as your mouth gapes open. âo-oh fuck!â you scream, unable to stop yourself from babbling about how good he feels, how much youâve wanted him for so long. your throat burns from the way your voice tears from your mouth, eyes screwed shut as your blood pumps vividly in your ears.
suguru moves to grip your throat, not squeezing but simply lifting your head. your eyes focus on the falling snow outside the window, blurry with tears that smear your makeup on your cheeks. âyouâre squeezing me so tight, sweetheart. gonna fill you up. youâve waited so patiently for it, havenât you?â
you nod, sniffling as you whine and hiccup. everyone at the party definitely knows what youâre doing now, but you find yourself not caring. âplease, su. give it to me.â
suguru letâs out his own moan, finally releasing a thick spurt of his spunk inside of you. he laguidly fucks you through his orgasm, a long drawn out whine leaving his lips as he thrusts into you with quivering thighs. âso good,â he moans, âso fucking good.â
it takes a while for him to stop filling you up, and you sigh when he finally releases you. your body collapses on the bed as his cock softens and you feel some of his release drip out of you, coating your tummy and soiling your dress.
ânext time,â you say, voice heavy and thick with fatigue. âwe do this at my place.â
later, when you catch your bearings, you both are greeted with two cups of water left by the door and a lewd drawing. satoruâs doing, no doubt.
suguru laughs but you, on the other hand, are mortified. you doubt youâll be able to look anyone in the eye until the next christmas party.Â
note: and here is my second submission for my darling @k9ntoâs reddit milestone collab! i struggled a little writing this one but itâs finally here. follow me if you want to see more. much love! sorin.
TODOROSIE. all original work. do not plagiarize, translate, or repost. this includes feeding my work to ai apps and sites.
observing some of these situations big blogs get into i'm glad i'm teensy and only post every like eight months. that shit's scary. i'll stick to my teeny mid pieces of fiction...
note: just had a brief, dizzying spell thinking about subtly flirting with suguru in your jujutsu high years. listen. LISTEN. *shaking your shoulders violently, tears lining my eyes* he'll take care of you. here's my take on the forever-famous perilla leaf debate
.
.
.
Suguru takes it upon himself to be grill master for the night. Satoru's too busy stuffing the little tofu bowls down his throat, and Shoko's already in a sake-induced stupor of laziness.
You try taking some pickled radish. Satoru swipes at it in 0.2 seconds and swallows it down before your chopsticks even reach the bowl.
"There's a bowl closer to you," you complain.
Satoru brightens at your suggestion, grabbing the cold ceramic and tipping the radish past his tongue. "The one you were going for looked juicier," he chews through his words.
Whatever. You could always order more. Suguru says nothing, diligently flipping the beef in the pan. Shoko asks you to move out the booth seat because she needs to piss.
When you sit back down, Satoru is already writing to get 5 more orders of pickled bean sprouts and spicy tofu. "How about rice? Six more bowls?"
Suguru sneers. "You're a pig."
"I'm a growing boy. Okay, sixâ" Satoru hums to himself, frowningâ "and maybe some more potatoes. Do you think Shoko wants mushrooms? Because I want more mushrooms."
While Satoru contemplates Shoko's dietary concerns, Suguru drops a heap of perfectly-browned beef on your plate. "Oh. Thank you," you say, and he nods with a gentle smile.
"Let me know if you want more."
Your heart pangs a quiet beat. You nod, too, picking at the meat, convincing yourself that the heat in your face is from the sizzling plate in front of you, and not from Suguru's rolled up sleeves, or the way he carefully adds more to the pan to cook for Satoru's seemingly-bottomless appetite.
You're almost wary when you make a grab for the perilla leaves. Satoru's too good at guessing your next move. You try to prepare yourself, his quick ha!, all the leaves suddenly stuck in his chopsticks, leaving none to spare.
He's too busy chiding Suguru for burning his beef, though. Good. No sudden movements from the manchild with ten stomachs.
You try to grab a leaf. They stick together, folded over in the slick of sauce, and suddenly you miss Shoko because she's always the first to offer help. Her and her stupid small bladder.
You try again. The bottom chopstick manages to slip under one leaf, but a waitress comes by with the five hundred sides Satoru ordered, and the table rattles when he slams his hands down in excitement, bellowing thank you very much!, and your attempt is thwarted when the leaves curl again.
Satoru scarfs down three radish bowls. You try one more time.
You're almost vibrating with frustration. Did God like seeing his subjects suffer through the pain of repetition? You suppose all good things come with tribulations.
You look up. Suguru's watching you with a blank face.
"Good lord." Satoru groans through a mouthful of rice. "You've been trying to get that forâhereâ"
âclink.
Satoru's chopsticks, intercepted by Suguru's chopsticks. The poor perilla leaf stretches under the weight of their interruption. Suguru is still watching you.
"Oh," you say.
"Suguru," Satoru whines. "First my burnt beef, now this! You broke them all!"
It's true. The leaves are ripped straight down the middle, and all your meat is cold. But he keeps his eyes on you, chopsticks still a threat to Satoru's, and you don't think you've ever seen him move so fast.
Suguru's mold breaks, then. He laughs, scratching the back of his head in sheepish apology. "Sorry. Why don't you just ask for my help next time?"
"Okay," you murmur, and you grab the desecrated leaf. Suguru hums when he watches you chew. You have the distinct feeling that he's somewhat satisfied.
(Satoru yanks his hand back, grumbling something about god you're helpless in Suguru's direction. You hear the brief stomp of someone's foot. Satoru yelps.)
.
.
.
When Suguru lies down in bed later that night, he thinks of the way you thoughtfully chew your food. He dreams of perilla leaves, and what it must feel like to feel the warmth of your face with his hands.
ŕŠâŠÂ summary: gojo likes that you make him feel human. admittedly, he also likes that sometimes, you make him feel like a god.
ŕŠâŠÂ warnings: smut (18+), fingering, unprotected sex, slight dacryphilia, begging, soft dom!gojo, kind of mean gojo lol, workplace relations, reader can see curses but that's it, gojo has a god complex, dirty talk, not proofread bc i do not give a fuck
ŕŠâŠ wc: 3.1k
ŕŠâŠ a/n: i am having intense gojo brainrot. i was thinking about 'i'm your man' by mitski the entire time i was writing this btw. ALSO I LITERALLY HAD A GRAPHIC AND DIVIDERS FOR THIS BUT EVERY TIME I INCLUDE THEM this shit doesn't show up in the tags. i've given up!
Gojo Satoru has the smell of death burned into his senses to the point of complete apathy. Heâs sure that Shoko feels similarly, though as a healer and a doctor, sheâs often only met with the aftermath â the quiet decaying, the dried blood.
Gojo has encountered it all. The stench, the last pleas for salvation, the battered and torn-apart limbs. Even when the dying beings are cursed spirits suffering from the carnage created beneath Gojoâs hands, sometimes he wonders if an angel is nearby that weeps for them.
He has held grief inside his core to use as a weapon ever since he lost Geto. Nothing fazes him anymore. After the tragedies of his late teens, Gojo chooses to devote himself to his students rather than ruminating in sanctimonious thought loops. Gojo Satoru knows he isnât a god, but sometimes, when he levitates in the sky with blood on his hands, he certainly feels like one. Itâs safe to say that he may be the closest thing to one in the world of Jujutsu sorcery. Itâs nothing that he despises â heâs known since his powers took shape in the awkwardness of his child-body.
Gojo likes to think he isnât as cruel and indifferent as a god should be because of how protective he is. The warmth heâs had in his heart for Megumi alone confirms this as such, and now for Yuuji. Despite toying with the idea of divinity, he likes to remember that heâs human.
You are the only thing that reminds him of this.
Ever since Gojo had laid his eyes on you, he figured you were a delicate thing. Heâs not completely wrong â although you can see curses, you lack any techniques. After becoming an assistant at Jujutsu Tech, he had taken more than a liking to you, more than he would be willing to admit to anyone else. He also never thought that the girl who was so quick to sardonic banter with him would be so vulnerable.Â
When youâre underneath him, maybe he does consider himself a god, just for a second. And then he feels the silky touch of your skin and he canât help but wish for a life of mundanity with you until the earth stops spinning.Â
He likes that he can feel how fast your heart is beating. He likes that you become so pliant just from having his hand on your thigh.
Itâs not like he exploits the little affair you have. Itâs not that he wants to exploit you either, but the power trip that surges through him when you preen to his touch feels better than winning any battle. Itâs those big eyes of yours. Itâs a miracle you had reciprocated your attraction to him â he doesnât know what heâd do to any other man who happened to pursue you. The thought of that kind of violence doesnât make him feel any guilt. Heâd do it in a heartbeat if it meant that he could have you forever, unconditionally.
Within the few months youâve been working at Jujutsu Tech, you learn a few things about Gojo Satoru. He has an incredible sweet tooth. He cares about his students. He likes the feeling of your fingers combing through his hair. Lives for it, even, but he could never tell you that.
Thatâs how you ended up here, you suppose. Writhing and wet and oh so obedient for him.Â
You like that a man that is worshipped by all enjoys worshipping you.
âSatoru,â you whisper. The sound of your voice makes him fucking melt.Â
God, itâs so much worse when you beg. Satoru wants to be gentle with you, careful, because he knows that if all of his morals were thrown out the window, he would devour you completely, leaving bruises in your wake. But he waits, titillatingly, smirking as his long fingers grasp the flesh above your hips.
âPlease,â you whine. Your lower half bucks up into him, squirming just a little, but he grounds you with his large hands once again.Â
Satoru knows better than to toy with his prey, but the flush on your cheeks is so fucking cute that he wonders what you would look like with tears rolling down the soft blush of your skin.
âBe patient, baby,â he rasps. âJust like lookinâ at you.â
âYou look at me all day.â
âSomeoneâs got quite the attitude.â
Youâre about to protest until you feel his knuckle brush against the peak of your clit, teasingly. A nasty grin spreads across his face as he grazes his fingertips along your slit, marveling at how wet you are when heâd barely touched you.
âSo pretty for me,â he muses, mostly to himself.Â
âShould see how pretty I am when youâre inside me.â
Satoru scoffs. Despite being so human, you have quite the mouth, so much confidence in the way you move and speak that he often forgets how easy it would be to lose you. To break you. Though, of course, that privilege is for him and him only.Â
He kisses you to shut you up, but not nearly for long enough. You canât even get your tongue inside his mouth. You whine pitifully as he pulls back.Â
âPoor baby,â he coos. âSo on edge today. Whatâs got you so desperate like this, huh?â
âJust want you,â your voice is meek, which is an anomaly. The honey-sweet cadence of your words is barely above a whisper.
âYou have me.â Unbeknownst to you, you always will, whether you tire of him or not.
He makes his point by circling the pad of his thumb to your clit while his other hand claws at your chest underneath your dress shirt. The sound of your gasp has him reeling already, has his cock rock-hard in his slacks.Â
âMore,â you whimper. âS-Satoru, please.â
Youâre surprised when you feel the palm of his hand over your mouth. You whine against his hand, soft gasps dissipating underneath his touch as your eyes roll back. You feel two fingers enter your sopping cunt and it renders you brainless, docile just how he likes you.Â
The rhythmic ministrations of his fingers touch upon the spot inside your core that makes your legs shake. You like being smothered by him despite your personality. You donât even have to tell him â he knows already, heâs known ever since he noticed your reactions to him touching you casually during the working day.
The more you crave his touch, the more you become dependent on him, even when you donât realize it. You always pride yourself on being an independent soul, refusing his insistence to pay for your meals, the way you express to him quietly that you want to be able to fight back one day. You could perfect a certain violence in between your fingers just like he can if you put your mind to it. But you have too much dignity to request his guidance as a mentor or teacher.Â
He thinks about it now as he touches you. The idea of him training you to use cursed techniques. The idea of him making you in his image, shaping you like he had created you himself.
If anyone truly knew the extent of how you are the object of Satoruâs affection, of his obsession, one would render him pathetic. But he knows heâs too powerful. He knows itâs easy to make you seem like the pathetic one. Youâre already begging for his cock, after all.Â
âIâm gonna⌠Iâmââ
Thereâs a squelching sound when he retracts. His fingers are wet with your slick and youâre on the verge of tears when you feel the loss. Youâre already falling apart without his touch. It doesnât help when you watch him lick your wetness off of his own fingers.
âWhy are you being so mean to me today?â
ââm not,â Satoru purrs, licking a stripe from your collarbone to your earlobe. You try to kiss him since his face is so close to yours, but again, he restricts you. His long, slender fingers squeeze the base of your neck. âI could be a lot meaner to you, yâknow. Youâre lucky. This is mild compared to what Iâve thought about doing to you.â
âWanna cum,â you whisper. You donât even realize that there are tears falling because youâre too focused on Satoru. It isnât fair, the way heâs toying with you. The moment he relinquishes his grip, just barely, you reach over to palm his cheek. He lets you pull the blindfold from his eyes.
âDunno if I can let you. Youâre being so greedy. Such a selfish fucking girl.â He pinches your nipple as he says it. His voice is smooth, dripping like honey, dulcet in the way his words manage to make your eyelashes flutter despite how filthy the subject matter is. Heâd ruin you if he could. Perhaps, heâd ruined you the moment he touched you.
Heâs touching your clit again, but not rhythmically. You feel a sense of loss every few seconds. Heâs fucking teasing you now, but youâre smart enough to not snap at him despite how much you want to.Â
So you say his name instead. Like a hymn or a prayer. Like itâs the sweetest thing to come from your tongue. From the way your voice sounds, Satoru is convinced that his own name is a blessing just because it comes from your lips. He canât get enough of it.
You make Satoru feel human, but the way you react to him at the moment makes him want to pretend heâs a god.
âS-SatâSatoru. Oh.â
âYou cryinâ already, baby? Thought you liked it when I played with you.â
His voice is low, raspy. Almost cruel.Â
Your brain is so foggy that it feels like heâs been doing this to you for hours. You canât even form words, canât bitch to him or dominate him the way you often attempt to. Thereâs a secret part of you, deep inside, that is unlocked by the way Satoru handles you. As much as he loves control, he still doesnât know the extent of what you would let him do to you. How you wished heâd wrap a silk ribbon around your neck and collar you like a puppy. How you think you would do anything for him if he asked.
You donât even know that he would do the exact same for you.
Now, youâre at your peak again. Your legs are wobbly, senses so heightened by the way he plays with your pussy that it takes you a few moments to notice that his cock is prodding against you, bare and pink and fucking leaking.Â
Maybe if you tell him youâre close, heâll stop. You canât stand the thought of it. So, naturally, you cry instead, and the sight makes him want to keep you for as long as heâs alive. Satoru would make sure nothing slights you, and that nothing out of his control could possibly vex you. This desire usually scares him. At the moment, it doesnât. At the moment, he feels drunk with it.Â
He knows when you cum because he has you memorized. Itâs a little death, truly, because when your legs tremble and your moans fade into a sharp gasp, Satoru knows for sure that your brain has turned to mush. Your body melts against his. Maybe youâd melt right into his mattress if he didnât have more energy to play with you.Â
Gojo Satoru does not believe in a higher power, but he thinks that if one existed, one that was more powerful than him, he would thank them. He would thank them for you, the creation of you, the very essence of you living and breathing in the same wretched world as him. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, you were made just for him.Â
You recover in a succession of exhales. Blinking rapidly through blurry vision as you feel Satoruâs face nuzzling your neck, almost too domestic and sweet to bear. You had never thought of anything serious with him because of his reputation, but every time he has you like this, underneath him, you often wish that he would reassure you that he wants to keep you.
And he does. He is devoted to you in a way that feels holy. He just doesnât know how to tell you that. Satoru hopes you can figure it out just from the way he touches you.Â
And maybe, like him, youâre just above human. An angel, he thinks. A set of wings would suit you.Â
âIâ Iâ pleaseââ you strain. You feel embarrassed from the tears, but Satoru cherishes you. He kisses and licks them right off your face.
âI know, baby. I wonât make you beg any more than you have,â he sneers.Â
Youâre fucking doe-eyed, angelic when he enters you. Just the tip, for now, just so he can see how you react. It isnât the first time but you are certainly acting the part from the way your whole face screws up. Your perfect mouth parts and he touches your bottom lip with his thumb.
You whimper like a wounded thing. Like you should be begging for mercy. He hasnât dipped too far into his God-complex yet to coax that reaction for you.
And without a warning, he pushes himself into you completely, bottoming out. He groans at the feeling of your walls tightening around him. So warm. So fucking wet.
âFucked you enough to mold the shape of your pussy to my cock, huh? Feels so fuckingâ fuck,â he exhales, rutting into you with eyes shut.Â
You whine his name, clutching at him, scraping your nails across his pale back. He loves the way you need him. He wouldnât trade the feeling for anything else in the world.
Made for me. God made you for me.
You slur your words against his neck and his chest as he thrusts into you â cries of his name, of begging for more, of your usual expletives. He grins like a predator. He bends you in half and thinks briefly about breaking your limbs for the sake of his pleasure. (He doesnât. Youâre too delicate, too human.)
In reality, youâre sarcastic and sometimes brash. When Satoru has you writhing underneath him, youâre a little more shy. He wants to tease the desire from you, whatever filth that permeates in your brain.Â
âTell me what you want.â
âWantâ I wantâ aah!â
âFeels so good for you, I know. Use your words for me. I know you can,â Satoru taunts.
âWant you to make me cum on your cock. Please,â you beg. âNeed it deeper, âToru. Need you.â
âNeed me, donât you? Say it again so I can hear it.â
âNnghâ Needâ Fuck, I canâtââ
He slows the speed of his thrusts and rubs the length of your jaw softly with his palm. His other hand rubs your clit gently, making your body spasm. He tucks the hair sticking to your forehead behind your ear so he can see all of you. You and your swollen mouth and glassy eyes.
âDonât do that,â you whine.
âDo what, baby?â
âTeasing me like this. Wanâ it rough.â
âWhat else?â he breathes into your neck, palming your breast as he thrusts into you deeper.
âWant everything. Want it to hurt.â
And with that, he gives it to you. He gives you all of it.Â
You drape your arms around his body so that youâre closer than ever, both of your bodies ready to mesh into one if they could. Satoru pushes your legs up, knees bent and ankles near your ears, and he basks in the sound of your pathetic mewls.Â
âSuch a good⌠fucking girl,â he groans. ââm so close.â
âMe too,â you reply in a hushed tone. âRightâ right there.â
Satoru has fucked you plenty of times. Heâs called you a slut, a greedy whore â but he canât bring himself to degrade you like that even though he knows you like it. Youâre splayed out for him, limbs limp and grateful for his embrace. Youâre too fucking precious for him.
Youâre too dazed to think about the moral implications of your affair. It's a miracle you can't enter his mind so deeply when you're fucked outline this. Where his thoughts flash from lecherous to monstrous, yours are rendered sluggish. Thereâs almost nothing in your brain, save for him and his blue eyes and the feeling of his cock. It consumes the best of you. You welcome it with open arms.
Another kiss. Itâs mostly Satoru working his tongue into your mouth and you dissolving under his tongue. He tastes so sweet, so fresh all the time. His lips are so fucking soft it drives you insane.
âPleasemakemecum,â you cry out in a jagged mumble. âPlease. Need it so bad. Please!â
He groans in response. Youâre begging more than usual. You are frantic and desperate and welcoming his hand to shape you in his image.Â
The way he grinds into your cunt becomes more aggressive, which is easy for him. Thereâs no resistance â your pussy is so fucking wet for him in that way. The cloying heat in his pelvis spreads to the rest of his body, warmth enveloping him like hot water in a bath.
You whine his name again and it dissipates into his mouth.
âCum with me, fuck, I can feel youââ he moans. Both of you reach your peak in the way he grasps your body, calloused hands worshipping the length of your waist until his fingertips bruise your thighs.Â
His hips stutter as he indulges in his pleasure. In the sound of your hushed whimpers. In the way your nails claw across his back.Â
Both of your labored breaths fill the silence. Even in the dark, you admire the brightness of his blue eyes. They could replace the divinity of the stars themselves, you muse.Â
Both of you are hazy, intoxicated on the touch of each othersâ skin. You shiver in your skin. Youâre only soothed when he buries his face into your neck, long limbs splayed over your smaller frame.
âI should fuckinâ marry you,â he breathes into your skin.
âWhat was that?â you raise a brow.
He clears his throat. Despite the daze, heâs able to give you one of his signature cocky grins. Something flashes in his blue eyes, you think.
âI think I wanna keep you.â
If he was god, you were his seraphim, heâs decided. He almost tells this to you, out loud, because your big eyes drink him in. He knows better.
âYou have me,â you reply softly, echoing him from earlier in the night. The way he smiles reminds you of the sun.Â
Gojo Satoru knows itâs an affirmation from you, maybe even pillow talk. But he knows that sentiment to be truer than anything heâs ever known. He is yours and you are his.
For now, you donât know the half of it. Maybe someday you will.
⥠summary: you walk gojo back to his dorm after a night of drinking
⥠pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader
⥠content/warnings: major fluff, underage alcohol consumption, boyfailure gojo, gojo calls reader pretty, mutual pining, drunken confessions, kiss kiss fall in love
⥠wc: 1.4k
Satoruâs never been great at holding his alcohol.
The first time he got drunk was in secret inside of Suguruâs dorm room, late at night to ensure that there werenât any teachers (read: Yaga) lingering in the hallway past curfew. His teacher did always seem to have some sort of divine intuition whenever it came to Satoruâs antics.
He had taken one shot and subsequently spat it all out onto the floor.
Satoruâs gotten better at handling his liquor, but heâs still very much a lightweight. That isnât enough to deter him from refusing any shots Shoko or Suguru throw his way though, which probably isn't a great idea seeing how wasted your friends were. Which is surprising, because they tend to be a little better at handling their alcohol than Satoru. Chalk it up to wanting to celebrate for making it to the end of the school year.
Itâs you whoâs left to play damage control, considering how you were the only one still standing as the rest of your friends were all passed out on the cold hardwood floor of Shokoâs dorm, aside from one other person whoâs currently gripping your leg, staring up at you, pleading like a kicked puppy.
Satoru was just as annoying if not more so when intoxicated. He couldnât possibly sleep on the cold, hard, wooden floorsâŚ
âŚwhich is how you end up walking Gojo back to his dorm room. Though walking would be a very generous term, seeing how heâs using you as a human crutch, leaning most of his weight onto you as you struggle to keep the two of you balanced.
You try to usher Gojo onto his bed gently, but the boy seems to be too out of his wits to even do that properly. He unceremoniously flops onto his bed with a thud, banging his head against the wall in the process.
âOwww,â he clutches his head, pouting.
âThatâs what you get,â you laugh.
âYouâre mean.â
âMean? I brought you all the way back here when I could have just let you sleep on the floor. That sounds pretty nice to me.â
His bottom lip juts out even further, much to your amusement. His sunglasses are hanging off the bridge of his nose, lopsided. You reach out to place them on his nightstand. His warm hand envelops your wrist before you can draw back, and brings your hand to cup his cheek. Maybe itâs alcohol and your decreased inhibition, or maybe its your own volition, but you canât find it in you to pull away. You stroke your thumb against his pale, plush cheek, admiring the dimple that likes to make itself known when he smiles, just like he is right now.
Satoru runs warm. Youâd think for someone with such an icy appearance and a reputation for being a cold-blooded sorcerer, his body temperature would follow suit. Maybe itâs because that frigidness is Gojo, the strongest, the honored one, and all the epithets that have burdened his shoulders from the minute he was born. But here, with you, heâs just Satoruâ a boy with the brightest smile youâve ever seen, who canât shoot whiskey, and loves his friends endlessly.
âMy head hurts,â he whines.
âOh, you poor baby,â you faux coo, rubbing your hand against the sore spot that will definitely have a lump tomorrow. Satoru eats it up though, melting into your touch. Heâs even clingier when heâs drunk, you realize. Cute, you might even add. But the thought leaves just as soon as it comes. Youâre a lot less sober than you thought you were.
Gojoâs voice pulls you out of your drunken daze. âCan you kiss it better fâme?â
âWhat?â
âCan you kissâŚkiss me instead? So it doesnât hurt anymore?â He slurs.
âSatoru, youâre too drunk.â
ââm not!â Whatever defense he has for himself fails as a hiccup escapes past his lips. For a second, you think he might fall asleep like this, leaning into you. But then his eyes snap back open with a determined glint.
âWanââŚwanna kiss youuu,â he closes his eyes and puckers his lips, waiting for you to close the gap.
âSatoruâŚâ
Where do you even start? You thought youâd be okay ignoring the budding feeling in your chest that consumes you most days youâre with the white-haired sorcerer. Deflection is the only way you know how to avoid acknowledging whatever this was. And itâs been working, sort of. âYou canât kiss someone you donât like.â
He pouts even harder at that. âI like someone! I like you,â he says adamantly. âLike, like-like you.â
âLike-like? What are we, in kindergarten?â
You try your best to redirect the conversation, you donât think youâre ready to face the implications of the fact that one of your best friends has feelings for you. Mutual feelings, you might addâ the same feelings that have been eating away at you for months now, and the same feelings youâve elected to ignore.
He pouts for the umpteenth time tonight before he lets out a huff, falling back onto the mattress. He props himself up on a pillow, peering at you curiously. Itâs almost like you can see the gears turn in his head when he smiles deviously, both of his freakishly long arms reaching out to wrap around your waist and bring you flush against him.
You can feel the hot puffs of his breath, and you will yourself to look at him. Satoruâs eyes have always been so easy to get lost in.
He breathes out your name, sickeningly sweet. âI really do like you. Youâre so pretty and strong and smartâ it drives me a little crazy.â Your head is spinning, and the innate urge to run like youâve been doing all this time sparks through you, but the grip that Satoru has on you is too strong. âWant you to like me back, Iâll do anything,â he says honestly.
Gojoâs good at the chase, and youâre something heâs in for the long run. You can run and run until thereâs nowhere else to go, until your legs refuse to carry you a step further. Heâll always be there to catch you.
His hand traces delicate patterns along the side of your neck, still a bit too far gone to notice how your breath hitches. âIâll buy you whatever you want, Iâll get you a big house and we can live together forever. Iâll take care of you, do whatever you want. Iâll be so good to you. For you.â
Youâre stunned into silence. Your heart is threatening to leap out of your chest. It melts when you look at Satoru, whoâs looking at you with all the hope in the world. The moonlight seeping through the blinds of his window casts the most intricate waves of light, illuminating Satoruâs features perfectly.
Satoru thinks heâs holding the world in his arms right now. Heâs preparing himself for rejection, but itâs alright, he thinksâ because heâs good at everything he tries and heâs willing to try and try again and again for you, just for the chance to be yours.
âTell me that again in the morning when youâre sober,â you whisper, as if youâre afraid someone else could hear you within the confines of Satoruâs room. Like the weight of your words were a secret you couldnât bear to let anyone else in on, except for one personâ your one and only.
You take a leap of faith. You plant your hands on his chest to steady yourself, placing a chaste kiss on Satoruâs foreheadâ a symbol of assurance of your love for himâ something thatâs been a part of you from the very moment you met him.
Satoruâs heart squeezes in anticipation. He hugs you even tighter, laughing at the yelp of surprise you let out. He has never felt as more of a winner as he does right now. âIâll tell you everything sober or drunk,â he promises, unable to contain his giddiness as you (finally!) let him pepper kisses all over your face.
âEverything, as long as itâs with you.â
a/n: gojo can not handle hard liquor so heâs drunk off of some (shots of) smirnoff ice đ
there's something about lowkey proposals that have my heart like as much as i think gojo would spend thousands on a trip somewhere with a fancy candlelit dinner and a massive 'marry me' sign on the beach, i truly believe he would just hold out the ring one day in the kitchen or something and say 'wanna get hitched?'
a/n: vela returns from a victorious (not intended) year long hiatus and very solemnly offers you the headcanons she's been desperately cooking up for way too long, enjoy <3 don't forget to reblog!
â° kento doesn't even realize he's in love with you until he's making the two of you dinner. you're sprawled out on his couch, talking about your recent mission. the two of you aren't even dating. you just end up together at the end of every day. it all feels so intimate. as he listens to you talk, he notices heâs picking out the parts you don't like, setting them to the side. he remembers when he was a kid, and his mother told him food was a labor of love. he recalls that bakery he used to frequent when he was still working a regular job, how the smell of the bread and sweets was comforting, and how the girl who worked at the counter always had a fresh loaf for him. as he's sitting across from you at his dinner table thatâs only big enough for two, he feels like his world is shifting on his axis a bit.
kentoâs always enjoyed listening to you talk; much to gojoâs dismay, you're the only person nanami could listen to for hours. you're talking so vibrantly, moving your hands to illustrate actions, and he feels terrible about the fact that he can't hear anything you're saying. instead, he's thinking of the lunches you bring for him, the way your pinky touches his ever so slightly, like some silly school kids. he thinks of how you rest your head on his shoulder when you're stuck on a long commute from a mission; he thinks of your shoes by his at the door, a spare coat on his rack, an extra cursed tool in his closet. he thinks of your easy smiles and lively laughs. he thinks of how you easily fall against him no matter how you feel, whether it be a fit of uncontrollable laughter or a collapse after a long day. you're not dating; no one even thinks you're dating, but nanamiâs heart practically swells when you seek him out through the day, placing a hand over his paperwork and telling him to take a break. he thinks of how you always kiss him on the cheek when you leave and always remember to text him that you've gotten home safely. if you're not so tired that you're sprawled on his couch with a blanket he's saved for you. he thinks about how, if he stayed working that awful job, he'd never have this, never have you, in your own unique way. he wasn't sure why he kept being a sorcerer; he just presumed that heâd work until he died. however, sitting across from you, talking animatedly about some shenanigan yuuji has wrapped you into, he feels content. it's almost like this could mean something; maybe his life is truly just a cycle, all leading to an uneventful death, but with you by his side, he thinks, it feels worth it.
â° toji is not in love with you, or at least that's what he says. however, he realizes he may be that fond of you on a quiet evening. toji never expected to find himself so soft and domestic. he'd liked you because of your take-no-shit attitude; when he met you in some dark bar some months ago, watching you turn down every suitor who came your way, he accepted the challenge. he'd find you at least once a week, always in the same spot, and he's the only guy you let buy you drinks, the only one allowed to sling an arm around your shoulders. you made him wait for it. but now, months later, you let him wrap his arms around you without a word, and you're so quiet and calm, completely and utterly relaxed, and it's so good. tojiâs hands are far from clean, he's far from the kind of upstanding guy he thinks you truly deserve, but you lay in his arms so easily, as if you couldn't care less what he's done. you drag your finger across his scars. you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth without recoiling at the feeling of scar tissue. you're almost too good to be true. he thinks of all the times you've patched him up, brows knitted in careful concentration, telling him, âthis might sting,â even though he'd walked in practically unaffected by the injury in the first place. the way you forced him to tell you what he did for a living, and even though he didn't spare the gritty details, you still seemed not to care, as long as he was coming back safe. he's come to expect you to be standing at the door, sitting at the table, or lying on the couch when he gets home. right now, you're lying in his arms, completely unaware of just how much he loves you and loves this. your hand is in his, silently twiddling with his fingers as your eyes focus on whatever movie or tv show you've taken an interest in now. he decides heâll leave it all behind for you. all of it. when he finishes this next job, heâll buy a ring. then heâll get a regular job, and finally, heâll be happy.
â° satoru realizes he's in love with you on a seemingly ordinary day. he's finished work for the day, or rather, for the last two days. he hasn't slept in three, and his head is starting to kill him, even with his reversed cursed technique. right now, he only wants to get home, eat something sweet, and collapse in bed. when he walks into his usually quiet and organized apartment, he realizes quite a few things. there's a bag of that mochi from that place in sendai that he loves, and a note beside it reads, âthe kids and i picked these up for you!â he recognizes your handwriting, messily scrawled as if you were in a hurry. next, he notices that every blanket (except for his, he silently hopes) is spread across the floor in the living room, nestled in what seems like the coziest pile ever is you and the kids. megumi is on your left, and tsumiki is on your right. the three of you are sleeping so soundly that he almost wants to kill every higher-up for pulling him away from you, from this, from his family. as he looks at you nestled between megumi and tsumiki, he realizes that's exactly where he wants you to be.
the three of you have been knocked out for a while; your limbs tangled and blankets moved. after showering quickly, he finds out that his blanket was not exempt from the fort, but he doesn't even mind as he makes his way back to the living room, scooting in next to a sleeping megumi, and he watches for a bit. studies the way your chest rises and falls, the way you so easily let the kids relax against you, the way your mouth hangs open so hilariously that he wishes he'd snapped a photo while he was still up. he feels his heart swell immensely when he finally does lay down, and megumi nestles his face into his shoulder, and you feeling the sudden movement, throw your arm across him. satoru never thought he could feel this soft. the privilege of meaning something to you, to these kids, is better than any sorcerer grade, any title, anything. when he settles down, his arm so long he can reach all the way over the three of you. he recognizes the sock you're wearing. it's black and probably way too expensive; if he squints a bit, he can almost see the custom embroidered âGSâ on every piece of clothing he owns (clan habits die hard). he can't stop the soft smile that spreads across his face. of course, you love him; you're wearing one of his socks.
â° suguru isn't the kind of guy to be surprised by his own feelings. at least before you, he wasn't. however, he finds you surprise him every day; every little habit of yours implants itself in his brain. he could spend hours just watching you do the most mundane tasks, but when he truly realizes he's in love with you, itâs early one morning. he's sitting on his bed, watching you get ready at the vanity he bought just for you, half of it your makeup and the other half various products he puts in his hair. he feels infatuated with you. your entire routine is done with so much care and attention that he can't help it. he's been watching you get ready every morning for the better part of two months. but what really gets him is the way you've changed your routine to involve him. a small kiss to his lips every morning, setting your alarm earlier so you really can stay in bed for âfive more minutes,â drinking your coffee at home because he makes it the best. always asking him, which shirt looks better? what color should I wear? rattling off all your daily tasks, turning to see suguru holding your keys, or your wallet, or your umbrella right as you begin to ask where it is. and most recently, indulging him by picking a vanity, after you complained about being tired of doing your makeup standing up in his bathroom and how the drawer you've been keeping your products in was starting to overflow. getoâs obsessed with watching you do your makeup, sitting behind you on the bed, quietly admiring the way your hand moves in practiced steady strokes. he loves the way you silently curse if you mess up your wing, he loves the way you still suck your cheeks in to do your blush, he loves the way you sit in front of the mirror silently debating on wearing your hair up or down or maybe a mix of both. he loves how you apply lip gloss, the last step of your routine. always the last step, because the goodbye kiss at the front door leaves more of it on him than on you. he watches with a soft smile and sticky lips as you reapply your gloss in the mirror in the entryway, smiling when you catch his eye in the mirror. laughs at the way you roll your eyes but don't stop him from pulling you back in the doorway, kissing you again because he âalready misses you,â so finally, you add reapplying your lip gloss in the car to your morning routine, while suguru adds loving you to his, but that was already there, wasn't it?
ââ ËââŠâ§â synopsis: after reader is persuaded into putting herself back out there by long time friend, shoko, she successfully ends up scoring a date. unbeknownst to her, though, the gods have different plansâand one of them seems especially interested in her relationship with ex-husband, gojo satoru.
or in other words: a failed date results in a night of passion amongst former lovers.
ââ ËââŠâ§â contents: 13.5k words, ex-husband!gojo + co-parent!gojo, slight dub-con (alcohol use), dumbification, overstimulation, vaginal penetration, unconventional form of contraception (pull-out method - donât do this), pussy eating + one oc for the sake of plot
ââ ËââŠâ§â note: i know this is really long and most people donât have the attention span for it but PLEASE give it a chance! this is literally the longest piece of fiction iâve ever written and iâm really proud of it :(
songs to listen to for best reading experience: donny hathaway - i love you more than youâll ever know barbara mason - iâm ready partynextdoor - showing you bryson tiller - been that way
After you divorced your ex-husband, and decided to devote all of your time to being a mother, you never really considered getting back into the dating world. Not that you didnât eventually want to settle down with someone new, but the dating world now was just soâdifferent.
Different in the sense that meeting people organically was becoming increasingly difficult. It wasnât like how it used to be in high school or college, and it really didnât take that much effort then to get a manâs number by the end of your outing.Â
When you were in your early twenties, a brush of your hand on a manâs arm wouldâve worked. An âaccidentalâ bump into someone at a grocery store or cafe mightâve ended in a quick lay. Using these tactics today, though, might earn you some weird looksâhaveâearned you some weird looks.Â
Youâre on call with a friend from college when you begin recounting something embarrassing that happened to you recently. At first, the conversation started out about all of the professors you wouldâve slept with (if given the chance), but then, one thing led to another, and she asked you something that made you wince:Â
ââHowâs your dating life been since, you know, Satoru?ââÂ
Thereâs a heavy silence from your end, and she almost thinks you hung up.Â
âI mean, if you want to share,â she splurts, attempting to approach this gently, âI know that after the divorce, I wasnât there for you like you needed, but Iâd like to make up for thatâif youâd let me.â
Shokoâs always been like that. Blunt and charismatic, but gentle and zephyr-light in the way she cares for those closest to her. Itâs a trait of hers that you admire, because not so many people would care to treat your heart with such fragility.
âNo, itâs okay. You can ask, you know, itâs not this secret thing,â you start, sighing before continuing, âit happened, and it was a mutual decision.â
Shoko hums on the other side, âWell, Iâm still sorry. I let us go without talking for far too longâŚâ
âWell, I accept your apology, even if itâs unwarranted. Like I said, it was mutual andâŚthere wasnât really an intense grieving period for me? The only thing that hurt me is that you distanced yourself. I mean, the girls did miss their aunt ShokoâŚâ you say, trying to make her feel bad but not too bad.Â
âI know, I know, Iâm a bad aunt,â she jests, then the tone shifts to something serious. âI think I was just scared because both of you were my best-friends. I didnât want to âpick sidesâ, but I see now that it was a mutual decision, so Iâm assuming you two are on good-terms?âÂ
Again, you pause, âI mean, yeah. Satoru will always be my best friend. We may not be together romantically but heâs such an integral part of my life, I couldnât do thisâall of thisâalone.â After you say it, you feel a weight being lifted off of your chest that you didnât know was even there.Â
You think nobody would understand if you told them this. You think theyâd question how a person could divorce someone whoâs supposed to be their best-friend. And with the way you describe it, theyâd probably think you were still in love with him. But Shokoâs different, she gets it. Which is why saying it to her came so easily.Â
âHe is a great father,â she chimes in, âbut you two rushed into it so quickly, I donât think either of you had time to discover yourselves after college.â
Although she canât see it, you smile. Because she gets it. Even if time did place itself in between the two of you, she was there for most of it, when things were still touch-and-go. When things were fresh, and clumsy.Â
âExactly, that was our biggest gripe,â you admit, âWe didnât afford ourselves that time to grow, and I think that hindered our relationship. We werenât husband and wife first, we were parentsâand we were young, way too young.â
âYou made it, though,â Shoko tries to brighten the mood, âyouâre both amazing parents, and I know those beautiful girls that you created are lucky to have you.âÂ
The intimacy of the conversation sends your emotions into overdrive. You quickly realize how much you missed her, how much you yearned to talk to her. To reconnect on this level.Â
A single tear cascades down your cheek, and you try not to sound like youâre crying when you say, âOk, enough about that. You wanted to know about my shitty dating life, right?â
It happened last week, the grocery store incident. You were out picking up a few things for dinner when you spotted a cute guy standing outside of the aisle a few rows from you. He was fit beyond measure, in looks and strength, and was wandering around aimlessly in pursuit of red pepper flakes.Â
Coincidentally, you just happened to be in the seasoning aisle, and like the good samaritan you were, decided to personally hand-deliver it to him.Â
You wince as you vividly recall the embarrassing ordeal that ensued immediately after.Â
âHey,â you peer from behind the aisle, with a bottle of red pepper flakes in tow. âI heard you mumbling about finding this, and you looked pretty lost, so I thought Iâd pick âem out for you.âÂ
The manâs brows furrow briefly before his lips up-turn into a grateful smile, âOh, cool, thank you so much!â As quickly as the conversation started, it ends even quicker. He gives you a final nod of endearment before heâs turning around on his heels to resume his shopping.Â
âGod, could he be any more dense? The men today really make you work for it, huh?â you mumble to yourself, pulling the bosom of your blouse down until a good amount of cleavage is on display. âOkay, alright. You got this, you got this. This always used to work, right? Yeah, men love boobs.â
Walking up to the man again, you try a different approachâa bolder approach. âNot to be a bother but I was wondering if I could-â
âBabe? Oh, there you are,â a new voice interjects. The owner of the voice emerges from around the corner and walks up to the man with a cart and a baby in tow. Youâre stunned, to say the least. All you can do is stand there and blink in complete and utter dumbfoundment. As you remain in their presence, you take a moment to analyze the woman. Sheâs gorgeous, and toned. A real model-type broad, with feline-ish features that make so much sense paired with the man who appears to be her partner.Â
Oh, you think, and apparently say aloud, too. Thatâs when the woman turns to you, finally acknowledging your much smaller, and much quieter presence.Â
âHi, can we help you?â she smiles, and itâs actually genuine. Toothy and perfect, and totally not jealous. You blink once, twice, before gathering your wits to answer her question.Â
âYeah, uh, no. I actually, uhm, was helping your h-husband. He was looking for red pepper flakes,â you mutter embarrassedly, and point to the bottle in his hand. Upon further observation, you notice that she isnât exactly wearing a ring. You find this odd, especially because his not wearing a ring is what encouraged you to pursue him. Carefully, you prod.Â
âIf I may ask, how come neither of you are wearing rings?â The couple gives each other a look, one that makes you feel like the odd man out. A look that is universally known, and without a doubt, could easily be translated to: âdid this chick really just ask that?â
Still, you smile as you wait for an answer. The woman takes the initiative. âYeah, we donât really believe in rings, isnât that right, babe?â she says so matter-of-factly. You blink again for what seems like the thousandth time, because of all things, you did not expect that to come out of her mouth. Her husband is quick to validate her statement.Â
âYeah, we think rings are unnecessary, you know? You donât need a piece of metal to confirm your feelings,â he says walking to his partnerâs side and wrapping an arm around her.Â
Disgustingly, the two give each other googly eyes before locking lips briefly. You can tell theyâre the type to probably share this information with just about any soul who asks. Today, you just happened to be that unfortunate soul.Â
âAre you married?â she queries, tilting her head against her husbandâs chest.
âI was, now we justâŚco-parent,â you purse your lips, ready for this entire interaction to be over. The woman frowns at your answer, and this time itâs not as genuine.
âAwe, well, Iâm sorry to hear that.â
âIt was actually a mutual decision,â you quip.
âOkay,â she smiles, widening her eyes at her husband to signal a departure, âwell, it was nice meeting you, and thank you for the red pepper flakes.â
The family turns away and heads to the front where check-out is. You donât even buy the items you intended to purchase, just leave your cart in the middle of whatever aisle you abandoned it and leave the store.
âOh, baby, you didnât?â Shoko asks in horror. You nod your head, still forgetting she canât see you and the way youâre sliding down against the wall.Â
âI did, and I shan't ever again,â a laugh erupts from your throat.Â
âI mean, fuck, are we getting old? âDonât believe in rings,ââ she mumbles, âDonât believe in rings, my ass! Is this what the youth are doing these days? Not proposing with rings?â
Now that you think about it, you wonder how that would even work. âYeah, right? I mean, how does that even work? âWill you marry me? But, actually, you should know I donât have a ring for you, so people will have to guess that weâre together purely based on vibes and energy,ââ you mock, in a not-so-great man voice.Â
Shokoâs laughing so hard by the end of your bit that she breaks the sound barrier, and the sound that makes on the phone sends you into your own fit of laughter. You laugh so hard it seems like a stream of pee comes out. Curse your developed incontinence after motherhood.
âGod, youâre so stupid, I canât breathe,â she says exasperatedly, and you know that on the other side sheâs probably keeling over in her bed.Â
âOh, please. I bet you havenât laughed this hard in a long time, bitch.â
âI havenât,â she cackles. This back-and-forth continues until the two of you settle down enough to continue discussing your (pee-inducing) love life.Â
âYou tried any dating apps?âÂ
Itâs a simple and valid question, but it only makes you laugh even harder. You only stop when the other side of the line goes quiet. âWait, seriously?â
âYeah, seriously. Itâs what everyoneâs doing these days! Youâre not that old, you know.â
âShut up,â you kid, â itâs just that I never considered it. I mean, dating apps feel so impersonal. How serious do people even take it?âÂ
âSure, thereâs people who use it for casual hook-ups and stuff, but a lot of people do come out of it with a relationship. Just donât knock it âtill you try it.â
âOh?â you muse, curious. You wish Shoko could see your face, and the weird little dance your brows were doing. âShoko, have you used a dating app before?âÂ
The brunette kisses her teeth. âCanât get anything past you.â
âNever.â
Thereâs a sense of hesitance but you encourage her to elaborate because âshe became estranged from you for almost a decade and needed to pay her duesâ. Sighing defeatedly, she eventually acquiesces.Â
âFine, fine, maybe IâveâŚbeen on a few dates,â she starts, ââand had a few one night stands, maybe more than a few, and maybe even dated a guy that turned into my stalkerââ
âIeiri Shoko! You naughty, naughty girl! Wait, stalker?â
âTo make a long story short, I got a restraining order on that creep. Anyway,â she segues, attempting to change the subject, âWe should make you a profile!â
For the rest of your phone call, Shoko guides you through all of the dating app basics. She offers her expert advice as you scroll through your camera roll for potential photos to use. You go through about a hundred before you finally settle on five that she really likes.Â
The one that she tells you to put first is a photo of you in a bikini. Itâs a few years old but she says you look âradiantâ and that your âtits were practically spilling out of the cupsâ. Plus, for further consolation, she says most people on dating apps are liars.Â
âEveryoneâs got at least one old photo on their profile, doesnât make you a catfish,â she quips, âjust means youâre a nostalgic person!âÂ
âRightâŚâÂ
The next one is a selfie. Youâre smiling big in it, showing your gums, and itâs genuine. Shoko says guys like those types of photos because it shows them that youâre approachable. It also won her over because itâs fairly recent, too.Â
Out of all your photos, thereâs only a select few that were taken within the year. You had to admit to her that you never really took photos of yourself anymore. Satoru took most of your candids. Still, she had a mission. And she wasnât going to be satisfied until she stuck around to see your first match.Â
âAfter the selfie you should put the one of you with the girls.â
The picture sheâs referring to is one Satoru also took. You remember that day fondly, and even now, the memories feel like a warm embrace.Â
about 8 years ago . . .
âDad, mom, look! Hurry!â Hana, your oldest, shouts. Satoru and you are sitting on a blanket up on the sand dunes with Haruki, whoâs trying her best to make a sand castleâto no avail.Â
âWhat is it, hon?â Satoru and you rush over to her, snatching toddler Haruki in the same breath. When you get to the scene, a flood of warmth washes over you upon discovering the âthreatâ.Â
âSee, itâs baby turtles!â Hanaâs squatting in the sand, watching with pure and unfettered fascination as the hatchlings crawl north to the ocean. When she looks up at you, with eyes so bright, and a smile so big thatâs missing two of her front teeth, you want to cry.Â
âOh, hon, thatâs beautiful,â you gasp, lowering to your haunches so that you can join her. Satoru is about to follow suit before deciding at the last minute to go back to the blanket. When he returns, he snaps a picture unbeknownst to you. Eventually, though, you turn your gaze to him and he capturesâwhat he used to think thenâthe âprettiestâ photo of you.
âYou sneaking photos of me?â you squint, pointing at him. He trods closer until heâs standing above you. Then he snaps another. Your headâs tilted up, and youâve got one eye open, and the other closed because of the sun. He always liked when you squinted like that because it made your nose do this cute little scrunch.Â
âYup, âcause youâre my muse.â
Youâre pulled out of your daydream when Shoko says your name on the other line.
âYou still there?âÂ
âYeah, itâs justâŚâ
âJust what?â she queries, waiting for a response.Â
âI wanna use it, but my ex-husband took it. It feels weird, you know? And do I want to use a photo of me with the girls?â
âHon, who cares if Satoru took the photo? Itâs still a good photo, and to answer your second question, why wouldnât you include a picture with your girls?â
âI donât know, I guess Iâm just afraid no one will be interested. Nothing about a picture of a mom with her two daughters exactly screams âfuck meâ.â
Shoko lets out a small chuckle but youâre being serious. âOh, sweetie. Youâre so cute. Milfs are in these days, I donât think Iâm the one getting old, I think itâs just you!â
âHa-ha, laugh at the mom,â you feign annoyance, but give her a laugh in return.
âBut seriously, please use that photo. Nobodyâs going to skip you just because youâre a mom. A lot of men on there have kids of their own, just gotta tweak your settings,â Shoko reassures you.
By the end of your call, the profile is set. You thank your old friend for the previous heart-to-heart conversation, and the time she spent helping you set up your profile.
âKeep me updated, and donât talk about mom stuff, okay? Now, Iâm not saying you canât talk about them,â she begins, âbut show these guys your personality! I know sheâs in the closet somewhere hiding next to our old slutty clubbing clothes.â Â
Then, the both of you say your goodbyes and she wishes you a good-luck on your newly established dating journey. As you lay in your bed, you give your profile a final onceover. Not too bad, you think to yourself.Â
You ended up using all of the photos she had originally picked out for you. Even the beach photo. To compensate for your old photos, though, Shoko made sure that your prompts were witty and full of personality.Â
âIâd match me, I think. No, yeah, these are funny. She did a good job.â
The following day, you open your phone to fifty notifications from the dating app. A tingle of excitement shoots through your body from the tip of your toes, to the top of your head. It takes all of your might not to squeal in the office.Â
âHoly fuck,â you whisper at your desk. The amount of notifications that you initially saw on your homescreen read â50â but when you opened the app, it showed you an overwhelming â100â with a fat plus sign next to it. âWait, are these all the people who liked me? Shokoâs gonna flip.âÂ
Getting up from your chair, you make a beeline to the nearest bathroom. Not that you have to use it, but so you can scroll through all the potential prospects without your boss seeing you on your phone.Â
Pulling open the door to the bathroom, you close it shut behind you and lock it. A few minutes pass in the time youâre able to get through about half of the people who liked you. You end up skipping a lot of them. Theyâre either too young, too self-absorbed, creepy, or just downright not your type.Â
Some stick out, though. Even trick you into thinking theyâre potential matches, but then the other shoe dropsâbecause thereâs always another shoe. Youâll scroll through their profiles, and theyâll seemingly have all the perfect traits: intelligent, witty, handsome, tallâand then, boom. You see their âdonât want kidsâ preference. Every failed match only discourages you more and more.Â
Itâs weird, because your profile preferences are set to âhave kidsâ and you even have a photo pictured with your girls. So why are men liking your profile despite that? After a few more scrolls, youâre just about ready to head back to your desk but thenâyou have a hit.Â
Your finger hovers over the âxâ at the bottom of the screen, then retracts. The guyâs profile at first impression is miles better than the rest, itâs almost too good to be true. His first photo is what piqued your interest. Itâs of him posing for a silly photo with his sons, and heâs got his arms draped around their shoulders.Â
As you scroll down his profile, you see that thereâs even more of him with his children. You take this as a green flag. He wants people to know he has kids, and that he isnât embarrassed to show them off. You admire him for it.Â
The last few remaining photos are an amalgamation of selfies and full-body photos. To the average, well-adjusted adult, looks wouldnât be a deal breaker. But he definitely wasnât too bad on the eyes, and you were not complaining about thatâespecially, after the odd men you had to scroll through to get here. In other words, he was gorgeous and still fit despite being older than you (him, respectively being in his early forties).Â
Checking the time on your phone, you realize that youâre pushing your little âbathroom breakâ. Before heading back to your desk, you decide to respond to his first photo.
You: Cute! Could never get my girls to stand so still for a photo like this now haha :)
Work goes by slower than youâd like, but finishes up just in time when you get a notification from the dating app. Youâre a little more excited than youâd care to admit. Tidying up your workspace, you say your goodbyes to your colleagues and head to the elevator. Absent-mindedly, you rush to answer his message but realize it wonât go through because of the elevatorâs poor service.
Kazuki: Oh, theyâre moody and grown now, donât be fooled. I can't remember the last time I saw my youngest smile.Â
You donât answer his reply until you get home. Actually, you do just about everything but answer his reply: check on the girls, shower, prepare dinner, pour a glass of wineâyouâre nervous, and you donât know why. But you know you should probably answer soon before he becomes disinterested. So you get comfortable in bed with your glass of wine and pull open his chat.
You: Lol, know that all too well. Kids are little assholes, arenât they?
The speed in which he reads your text is startling, you donât even have enough time to close out of the chat. Then, he responds.Â
Kazuki: Hell yeah they are!Â
Kazuki: Sometimes I want to strangle my youngest. Heâs at that age where heâs starting to rebel and question everything. I told him he was supposed to be the âeasyâ one, but his knucklehead brothers are bad influences on himâŚTell me, does it ever get easier?
You: Sounds a lot like my oldest. She used to cling to me like a koala but now sheâs the ring leader, and Iâm the enemy. My youngest still loves her mama, though (for now lol).Â
You: And to answer your question, Iâd like to think so?Â
You take a second before continuing your response. Shoko told you to keep the mom talk limited, but this seems to be working for you so far, and heâs genuinely interested in what you have to say. So for once, youâre going to ignore her advice.Â
You: Kids go through phases. It's our job to reassure them that weâre not going anywhere. No matter how much they push us away or try to, that is :)
Kazukiâs chat bubbles pop up, then disappear. You think heâs deciding on what to say.Â
Kazuki: I can tell weâre gonna get along great. Itâs nice opening up like this, you know? Talking to another parent. If I'm being honest, dating apps have always intimidated meâŚ
Kazuki: People see kids as âbaggageâ, and it really bothers me. My kids arenât baggage. Theyâre the best parts of me. And if someone doesnât see that, then we have no business getting to know each other.Â
Kazuki: Sorry for getting all sappy. Just felt like I needed to say it.Â
His apology makes you frown. It feels like a breath of fresh air to hear someone talk about their kids so lovingly, because you feel the exact same way. Youâre glad you downloaded the app, and you make a mental note to thank Shoko again later (after you debrief her about this).Â
You: Never apologize for speaking about your kids! And if weâre being absolutely transparent, that was my biggest gripe with downloading this app, too.Â
You: Iâm so glad we matched each other. Iâd like to get to know you more. And Iâm hoping the feelingâs mutual?
Kazuki: Itâs more than mutual.Â
Kazuki: Donât want to get ahead of myself but how do you feel about dinner? Thereâs a cool high-scale restaurant in the city that I havenât been to yet. Heard itâs got two Michelin stars despite opening up not too long ago.Â
The prospect of going on a sit-down dinner date has your stomach in knots. Itâs been a hot minute since the last time youâve done so, but youâre eager to know the man behind the screen on a more personal level. Plus, being treated to a high-scale restaurant with two Michelin stars doesnât seem too bad either. Youâre never one to turn down free dinner.
You: Iâd love to, but how soon we talkinâ? Gotta see if itâll align with my schedule.
Kazuki: Howâs this Friday at 8 sound? :)
The days leading up to Friday breeze by in a blur. For the majority of the week, it feels like youâre walking on cloud nine. Eventually, the conversation transitions from the dating app to exchanging phone numbers, and since then, the two of you have been texting back-and-forth everyday.
You talk about mundane things. Work, shows, movies, books youâve recently read, what your kids are up toâbut the other things? The other messages are flirty, and sexy, and filled with so much tension that it could cut a rope in half.Â
In between messages, the two of you have also exchanged a few photos. Nothing risquĂŠ or anything of that nature, just random photos of you throughout the day. The last one he sent was a few hours ago of him at work, captioned with: âCould this meeting be any longer?â.Â
You reply to the message with the âha haâ reaction, in consideration of not wanting to get him in trouble at work (even if he was the one who initiated the conversation). As the days go by, though, you make it a habit to update Shoko every step of the way.Â
Her first reaction to hearing about him was enthusiastic. That is, until you showed her screenshots from his profile. You vaguely remember her saying something that was meant as a compliment, but came out more like an insult.Â
ââOh, heâs a dad!â was her initial response, âoh, heâs a dadâŚand he really loves his kids. Youâre meant for each other.ââÂ
When you tried to ask her what she meant by that, she changed the subject. Every update since then has earned slightly more positive reactions, though.
Today, you ask her for more advice. Only this time, youâre on video call.Â
âShokoooo,â you drawl, âour date is tomorrow! You have to help me find something to wear.â The panic in your voice is so palpable, she can almost feel your shaky hands through the screen. Flipping the camera, you hurriedly pan your phone around the closet.Â
âBreathe, girl, breathe,â she demonstrates first, before telling you to repeat the same motions. âTake me to that section over thereâno, not that oneâwait, yep, there.â You amble over to the area sheâs directing you to through the phone.
âWhatâs that black little number right there?â She points. You prop the phone up on a shelf and scour through the section, tugging out a dress you havenât seen in ages (which has you questioning how she even spotted it because it was pretty far back into the closet). Walking back into frame, you hold the fabric up to your body.Â
Shoko nods in approval, âThatâs the one, babe. Try it on!âÂ
Itâd been about a decade since the last time you wore this dress. Itâd also been about a decade since you were ever this small. Looking in the mirror, you run your hands over every surface inch, every crevice of the dress, in a newfound sense of appreciation for the adult weight youâve gained since becoming a mother.Â
The dress was always stunning but it hugged everything perfectly even more so now. When you walk back into frame, your friend gives you a look of pure adoration. Sheâs so enthralled that she snaps a few screenshots for keepsaking.Â
âThank god itâs Satoruâs turn to get the kids tonight,â she says, ââcause youâre definitely getting some tonight.âÂ
You roll your eyes, reminding her sheâs on speaker phone. âOh, please. Itâs just dinner!â
âNot in that dress,â she retorts, wagging her finger in the camera. While the two of you continue to chat about the details of tonight, a knock on your bedroom door draws your attention.Â
âMom, can I come in?â the voice sounds. Itâs Haruki.Â
âCome in, hon!âÂ
After you give the ok, you turn to Shoko and mouth to her to behave. Haruki turns the knob and enters, closing the door behind her. She sees you standing in front of the mirror before you see her, and silently utters a âwowâ. Youâre just about done putting your earrings in when you join her in the other room.Â
âWhat do you think, bun? Does your mom look hot?â you spin around, smoothing your hands down the length of the dress. You wait in anticipation for her approval, because if anyone could tell it like it is, it was always going to be a kid. Your Haruki was no exception.Â
âYou look really pretty, Mom. Iâm glad youâre going out tonight, I mean, you donât really have friends so I think this will be good for you,â she elaborates, though you wish she wouldâve stopped at the compliment.Â
Still, it puts a smile on your face to hear her verbalize that sheâs okay with you doing something for yourself. You never quite discussed the prospect of getting back out there with your kidsâand not even intentionally. It just never felt like the right time.Â
âYou couldâve stopped at the compliment, punk!â you grab her, then wrap her in your arms, âbut thank you. Love you, bun.â
âLove you more, mama.â Neither of you make the effort to pull away. Instead, you both stand there. Hugging, breathing, embracing each otherâs warmth. You donât always get hugs this good, so when you do, you savor it. Drag it out until your arms and legs get all tingly.Â
Or until someone interrupts. Another knock on the door. This time itâs Hana.Â
âEw, whatâs going on?â Hana feigns a look of disgust. You know sheâs just jealous; sheâll never admit it, though. Which is why sometimes you have to force her to participate.Â
âGet over here,â you scrunch your nose, forcefully pulling her into your tight embrace. She tries to protest but eventually accepts defeat. You squeeze them both until they whine that they canât breathe anymore. Then you squeeze them some more because this oneâs for you.Â
âMy special girls,â you breathe in, taking in all of their love. Soaking it all up so that tonight you have the courage to try again. To allow yourself a love of your own. When you let go, thereâs a sniffle from the closet. It totally dawned on you that Shoko was still on the phone.Â
âTheyâre so big now, they donât even know their auntie,â she fakes a sob, blowing her nose into a tissue.Â
âMom, whoâs on the phone?â Haruki queries with a confused expression etched onto her face. It suddenly dawns on you again that although youâve been communicating with Shoko again, you havenât exactly told them.Â
âHey, you came in here to tell me something right, Han?â Your attempt to change the subject is poorly done, which doesnât come as a surprise to you considering deflection has never quite been an ability you excelled at. Nonetheless, the look of suspicion they give you after is fleeting before they explain to you in unison that their father is here.Â
âYour fatherâs been waiting down there this whole time and nobody cared to tell me?â you whisper-yell, left eye twitching to emphasize your ill-preparedness. The girls only shrug their shoulders in response, like this was something you were just supposed to know.Â
âWell, you did force us into a hug and make us do all that Kumbaya stuff,â Hana mumbles under her breath.
âOkay, enough about all that. Are you guys all packed? Where are your bags? I donât want your dad seeingââÂ
âYou donât want dad to see your date, right?â Hana raises a brow, all knowing. Sometimes she was a little too smart for her own good. You want to blame that on the private schools Satoru had them enrolled in, but really you just know sheâs just a menace in her own right. She learned that from him.Â
âI agree with the kid,â a voice chimes in. You rush to the closet and grab your phone from the shelf. Thereâs a huge, shit-eating grin on Shokoâs face. Somehow sheâs responsible for this. You donât know how yet, nor do you have proof, but you know it.Â
âOkay, thank you, love you, bye!â Before you can hang up, Shoko blurts something.Â
âTell him I said hi,â she begins, ââandnottogetahardonwhenheseesyou!â
You hang up the call and roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself because of her idiocy. When you enter the corridor, you hear a faint sound of hushed voices from downstairs. Itâs only when you round the bannister at the top, when those voices become discernible and louder.Â
You stop at the top, and when your eyes meet his, it feels like all the air in your lungs have expelled. Suddenly, youâre hyper-aware of what youâre wearing, and the fabric, and the way it clings to your body. Neither he, nor you, look awayâyou should, you want to, but you donât.Â
And in the time the two of you gaze upon the other, time stops for a modicum of a second. In this second, you and him are the last two souls in the world. At least, thatâs how it feels anyway before he breaks eye contact.Â
You shift your gaze shortly after, and put on a trained smile. Those eyes of his were always so intense. You guess you forgot over the years how easy it was to lose yourself in the crystalline pools of them. Gathering your wits, you resume your movements and saunter down the imperial staircase.Â
âHey, didnât mean to keep you waiting. Sort of lost track of time, but I think the girls are all packed,â you say, your voice coming to a decrescendo upon noticing the way his eyes trail over your frame. Theyâre unreadable, though. Indifferent, and honestly, youâre not sure how to feel. So, you begin fidgeting uncomfortably with the rings around your finger.Â
Then, he smiles. Itâs eerie and fake. âNot a problem, I havenât been here too long. But, uh,â he begins ambling around the place, touching random objects around the living room, âDidnât know you had plans. Whatâs the occasion? Going out for drinks with your colleagues?âÂ
You furrow your brows, confused with his sudden interests in your plans. It wasnât really like him to prod. âNo, actually,â you rock back-and-forth on the balls of your heels, âiâmâŚiâm going on a date,â you finish with a pursed smile. He only nods his head in response, still walking around the place touching stuff, messing with the picture frames on the mantle. Theyâre all crooked now.Â
âHow come this is the only picture you have up of me,â he asks suddenly. You know, that he knows, the answer to that. And he knows, that you know, youâll indulge in his games anyway.Â
âThe girls wanted them in their rooms. Why do you ask? You want me to go grab them and put âem all up around the house?â Again, he doesnât say anything. Just gives you a final once over before heading back to the foyer to ask if the girls are all set to go.Â
âYeah, but I canât find my tablet, dad. Can I go look for it?â Haruki speaks up. âI thought I packed it.â
Satoru looks at the time on his watch, pinches the crease in between his brows. âSure, kiddo. Can we make it quick, please?â He throws his hand in the air for emphasis, then points to his watch. Haruki nods, then runs up the stairs.Â
âActually, you go on up too and help your sister. You guys are holding up dad,â you turn to Hana and gesture for her to head up with your head. She rolls her eyes, yelling up the stairs for her younger sister to âfreaking hurry upâ.Â
You and Satoru both turn to each other with wide eyes, laughing at the nerve of those children.Â
âThey get that attitude from you, you know,â you point to him, driving your index finger into his bicep.Â
âYou sure? Their momâs got a pretty bad mouth on her, too. Or, have you forgotten?â He teases, bending his knees slightly to level his eyes with yours, intruding into your space. The smirk he dons is cheeky, too friendlyâtoo inviting. You want to smack it off of him.Â
âOh, shut uââ the sound of your phone chiming interrupts your banter. Itâs a message from Kazuki, and you open it while Satoru stands over you. Probably close enough to read the message on his own if he wanted.Â
Kazuki: Hey, I hate to do this but I donât think I can go through with tonight.Â
When you read the message, your heart drops into your stomach. There goes the other shoe, you think, fully embracing your pessimism. Who were you kidding, really? To think that tonight youâd go out and have a good time. Do something for yourself. It was stupidity.Â
Chat bubbles pop up on the screen. He has more to say.Â
He has more to say, and youâre fighting the urge to cryâto not shake out of sheer frustration while youâre still standing in front of Satoru. Because nothing would be worse than him seeing you canât even land a date.Â
Kazuki: I recently just went through a divorce, and I know that I should have informed you about this before continuing our conversationsâŚEspecially since youâve been so transparent with me about your own divorce and strife.
Kazuki: But if Iâm being completely honest, I was scared. I genuinely wanted to see this through, at first. I wanted to forget about my ex-wife for just one night. But I realized Iâve been asking the impossible of myselfâŚIâm still in love with her, and itâs because Iâm in love with her that I wonât allow myself to lead you on any further.Â
Kazuki: I think we wouldâve had a good time tonight. It's unfortunate we had to meet under such circumstances because youâre a really lovely woman, and Iâm sorry an asshole is standing you up right now.Â
Kazuki: Take care. I know thereâs a guy out there just waiting for his shot.Â
Satoru takes notice of the way your face drops as you read over the messages. Part of him wants to overstep his boundaries and take a peek at the screen. But he doesnât. He gives you your space and takes a seat on the couch, waits for you to say something first.Â
In the meantime, he studies your face. Watches intently as your eyes become glossy the more you scan the messages, watches as your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hold back from crying. He thinks he knows what just happened.Â
Taking a deep breath, you lock your phone and put on another trained smile, âWell, looks like Iâm staying in tonight.â Satoru dislikes when you do that. When you put on a fake smile and overcompensate to make others around you feel better, even when itâs so very obvious you arenât. He wishes that sometimes you would just be selfishâact out.Â
And then you continue the façade. It makes his skin itch.Â
âI was too tired anyway, guess I can just catch up oââ
âWill you stop,â he spits, rising from his seat on the couch to stand. It comes out harsher than he intended, but he doesnât regret it. You look at him like heâs got two heads as he walks over to the mantle and leans against it. His back is turned towards you, and the palms of his hands hold the crest of it. He uses it as leverage to rock on the heels of his feet. You can tell thereâs something he wants to say because of the way his jaw ticks.Â
Satoru is never one to bite his tongue, so youâre not exactly sure why heâs choosing to be so restrained. If he wasnât going to spit it out, you were going to poke. âWhatâs your problem?âÂ
He chuckles at this, rubs his chin then pushes off the mantle to stand in front of you, gets all in your space again. The movement almost sends you back but you hold your ground, tilt your chin up at him and repeat the question. Slowly, this time with more venom.Â
âMy problem? Whatâs your problem?â He breathes through his nose, his eyes flickering back-and-forth between your own. âWhy do you always pretend like youâre not lonely? Itâs okay if you were looking forward to having fun tonight. Itâs okay to be upset and be mad at the asshole who stood you up!â
With every verbal prod at you, the gap between you decreases. His feet inch closer and closer to your own and force you to retreat farther until your back hits the wall. The coldness of it causes your breath to hitch, and you try to stay calm as Satoru encroaches more into your personal space. Being on the receiving end of his passion was always suffocating, you feel exposed under the intensity of his gazeâeven more so as he continues to tear into you.Â
âWhy do you even care?!â you cut him off, eyes wide and veins pumping full of adrenaline. âItâs not your place to be so invested in my life anymore! Weâre not together, you donât have to get so hot and bothered about things going shitty for me. Iâm a big girl, and Iâm perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.âÂ
By the time you finish, youâre a heaving, shaking mess. He takes this as a sign to withdraw from your space, and goes to sit back down on the couch. When you finally settle your nerves, you join him, leaving a foot of space in between you. Thereâs an awkward silence, one that wouldnât have even happened if he just respected your boundaries in the first place. Now he feels like the asshole instead of the actual asshole who dumped you. Taking a hesitant breath, he decides to speak up.Â
âLook, Iâm sorry. I didnâtâŚIt wasnât my intention to come off so strong like that,â he begins, âI just wanted to let you know that you donât always have to pretend to be fine. Itâs not fair, you shouldnât do that to yourself.â His eyes wander over to you reluctantly, like heâs scared that if he looks too long youâll disengage from the conversation.Â
âItâs okay,â your voice is small, just above a whisper. You want to face him, but you know that if you do, you'll break into a million pieces. So you keep your gaze downward, busy yourself with the stray pieces of thread on the bottom of your dress. âYouâre right, you know. I think I justâŚI think I just tell myself to expect disappointment so that when something bad happens, Iâll know itâs not because I got my hopes up.âÂ
Satoru turns to you, and you can see him frown through your peripheral. Still, you donât face him because youâre not done talking. But you thank him silently for listening without interrupting.Â
âEven though youâre right, I donât appreciate the way you came on so strongly. Weâre not married anymore, weâre not a coupleâweâre co-parents. So if thereâs something I want you to know about thatâs outside of the scope of our kids, Iâll let you know. Otherwise, leave it alone.â
Satoruâs face softens. For once youâre being selfish, putting your foot down. This is the side of you he likes. âOkay. I respect that,â he says, âBut can I ask you something?â The smile on his face is mirthful, like heâs got something else up his sleeves this evening. Skeptical, you finally face him with a raised brow.Â
âWhat?â
âLet me take you to dinner.âÂ
You laugh in his face, even go as far as smacking his arm because you want him to know you found the joke really funny. He doesnât budge, and thatâs when you realize heâs being serious.Â
âWait, what?âÂ
âLetâs go to dinner,â he stands up, crossing his arms across his chest. You tilt your head in disbelief. Youâre just waiting for someone to tell you youâre on that old reality show punkâd.Â
âFunny, I just poured my heart out to you and now youâre making fun of me,â you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance.Â
âIâm being serious,â he reassures, âyouâre already dressed up. Itâd be a shame for it to go to waste.â His eyes are twinkling with hope, and once again, you find yourself falling victim to their persuasiveness.Â
Being under Gojo Satoruâs gaze was suffocating.Â
Giving in, you ask, âSo what are you gonna do? Drive all the way home to get dressed?âÂ
The question is genuine, but the bastard just grins. âIâm a little hurt,â he throws a hand over his heart, âdonât you know me by now? Iâm a businessman. I keep pressed blazers and slacks on me at all times.â
He swings his keys around his index finger, hoping that the promise of a spare change of clothes being in his car is enough to convince you to say yes.Â
âI donât knowâŚâ you trail.Â
âCâmon, let me take you out. I promise you wonât regret it.â
Somehow he was able to persuade you into going out. After he changed into his spare clothes, you ended up telling your girls that there was gonna be a change of plans, and that theyâd go home with their dad tomorrow.Â
Of course, before leaving, you made sure to leave some money on the table for pizza, and you also made sure to drill into their heads not to open the door for anyone except the delivery guy. You knew they knew the drill already, but it didnât feel right to leave without saying it anyway.Â
âBe good, listen to your sister, sheâs in charge,â you pinch Harukiâs cheek. Hana smirks, nodding her head in agreement with you.Â
âI will mom, I know,â she huffs, crossing her arms.
âAnd you,â your finger wags at Hana, her smirk drops. âDonât provoke your sister, be nice. Act like you love each other, please.âÂ
âFine, whatever. I guess,â she grabs the knob to the door, ready to kick the both of you out already. âSo does this mean the two of you are back together, or?âÂ
Satoru and you turn to each other before answering in unison, âNo.âÂ
âOkay, cool. Well, have fun,â she practically closes the door on the two of you, locking it after. Satoru is just as dumbfounded as you are, but then you break into a fit of laughter.Â
âThose kids, man.â
âYour kids!â you correct, pushing him playfully as the both of you walk down the pebbled pathway. He finds his equilibrium in time to unlock the car and open your side of the door. You pause before ducking inside.
âOh, how gentlemanly of you,â you jest, âAnd they say chivalry is dead.â
âHow could it be when Iâm alive?â He says matter-of-factly, closing your side of the door. He taps the top of the car before sliding across the hood to the other side. Nice to see some things never changed.Â
When he gets inside and turns on the car, he puts his hand on the back of your seat to back out. The proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to physically refrain from letting your eyes linger on his jaw, and his arms, and the face he makes when heâs trying to concentrate.Â
You try to dispel these less-than-friendly thoughts by looking somewhere, anywhere else but him. But you canât, and itâs irritating.Â
This is the second time tonight youâve been this close, and itâs only this time that you realize something about him isâŚdifferent. Earlier, he didnât really smell like anything, but you quickly notice his smell has changed.Â
Thereâs a sort of piney scent coming from him. Itâs not strong or obnoxious enough to blind your nostrils, but itâs enough for you to just barely pick up on it. You almost think it was premeditated, that he took the liberty of spritzing some on before walking you to the car. Before you separated, heâd made it a habit to wear variations of woody scents for you. If you can recall correctly, a passing comment you made about the cologne he was wearing that day is what sparked the habit.Â
Surely, this couldnât be coincidental?Â
âYou smell nice,â you blurt, filling in the silence.Â
Satoru glances at you, âThank you.â You hate that from the corner of your eye, you can see his stupid little smirk growing bigger by the minute. He already had a big ego, it didnât need to be stroked any more.Â
âDonât let it go to your head, though. You usually smell pretty rank.â
âOhhh, is that so? Guess I gotta start wearing this more often then, huh?â
âSure, do what you want,â you say, trying to remain indifferent even though youâre failing terribly to hide your smile. When the car approaches a red light, you finally decide to ask the big question. âSo where are you taking me?âÂ
âYouâll see,â he glances over, âJust know Iâm good friends with the owner, so last minute reservations weren't a problem.âÂ
The rest of the car ride is silent, save for the low hum of the music playing on the radio. When you arrive at the location, Satoru makes sure to walk all the way around to your side of the door again and open it. Immediately after, the two of you are greeted by a young male. Heâs wearing a white button down, black slacks, and a black vest with a red tie. Judging by his appearance, you assume heâs a valet driver.Â
Satoru drops his keys in the driverâs hands, and escorts you towards the entrance. The boy bows and goes to park the car. Looking around, you start to wonder where exactly this place is supposed to be. The area is dark and secluded, and from where you stand outside, it doesnât sound like thereâs supposed to be a restaurant here. You donât hear any voices, you donât even see any security or other passerbyers.Â
Still, you follow behind him like a duckling, only coming to a halt when he leads you to a door taller than the both of you. He gestures for you to back up, then raises his knuckles to blow a strong, single knock. Youâre taken by surprise when a set of angry eyes appear behind a slot in the door.Â
The pair of eyes first scan over you, then Satoru. A gruff voice is second to accompany them, âWhere can I get a good drink?âÂ
âI heard the bar down the street is nice,â Satoru answers. The hatch to the door closes, then swings open the door, and the man behind it moves aside to welcome you in.
âFollow me, please.â Once he closes the door, he begins guiding you down the dimly lit hallway. After making what seems like your hundredth turn, you eventually reach a staircase. The man gestures for you to go on ahead, and you think this is him implying where the three of you will depart.
âThank you,â you say softly, disappearing down the stairs. Satoru isnât too far behind, keeping a pace between you. As you near the end of the long, narrow hallway, a stream of white light brightens up your whole path. It leads you down to another door like a beacon of light, and when you reach it, you can hear voices, live music, and dishes clanking on the other side. Itâs bustling with life. A huge, joyous smile plasters across your face. Itâs almost child-like in appearance, like you havenât seen something this cool in a long time.Â
Satoru stands beside you and winks. âWhat dâya think? Any idea yet where we are?âÂ
âI think this is fucking cool, and hm,â you take a second to mull it over, âare we at a speakeasy?âÂ
âSmart girl. Now come on.â Stepping back, you allow him to pull open the door, and when he does, there isnât a word to describe the atmosphere of the place you step into. All you can do is stand there in astonishment. Before long, a man walks up to you.Â
âWelcome, what is the name you reserved under?âÂ
âGojo.â
Nodding, the host instructs you to follow after him. He leads you to a private seating area, somewhere far in the back thatâs secluded from the other patrons. The space is much bigger, and much more extravagant. You know youâre only sitting way back here because Satoru is who he is. And in all the years youâve known him, his connections were just another party trick in his arsenal.Â
The hostess seats you, then Satoru, and tells you that a waiter will be with you shortly.Â
âThis is nice, really nice, but is itââ
âLegal?â he finishes your sentence, âdonât worry. Itâs a modern speakeasy-style restaurant. Thereâs nothing illegal going on here, promise.âÂ
While you wait for your designated waiter, your focus shifts from the man in front of you to the man singing on the stage. Up until now, his voice was white noise in the background, but then he started singing a tune scarily reminiscent of your pastâand your breath catches in your throat.Â
If I ever leave you, baby
You can say I told you so
And if I ever hurt you
You know, I hurt myselfâŚ
Turning your gaze back to Satoru, you squint your eyes mirthfully in disbelief. You wonder if this is just a funny coincidence, if this is the universe playing her tricks, but you know deep down, that coincidences and Gojo Satoru donât belong in the same sentence.Â
You open your mouth to speak, but quickly close it when you see the waiter approaching from the corner of your eye. He greets the both of you with a polite smile, then sets down two glasses of water.Â
âGood evening, Iâll be your waiter for the night,â he says, placing a menu in front of you, âCan I get you fine folks started off with a bottle of wine?âÂ
Satoru nods, tells him to bring the best bottle of red they have and then gestures for him to come closer so that he can whisper something in his ear. All the while, you sit back in your seat observing, clicking your nails on the table until the server pulls back and bows.Â
When he departs, you immediately lean in over the table, and ask, âJust how much time did you have to plan all of this?âÂ
Satoru feigns aloofness, taking a sip of his water, âWhat do you mean?âÂ
You roll your eyes, gesturing at the stage with your eyes. Then, as if suddenly coming to a realization, he goes, âOh, that? Yeah, I had nothing to do with that. But isnât it funny theyâre playing our old song?âÂ
Now heâs smirking, with his elbow leaning back on the chair, and a gaze so piercing, youâre certain youâll crumble into nothing unless you look away. So you do, avert your gaze back to the stage and sway calmly.Â
Is that any way for a man to carry on
Do you think I want my loved one gone
Said I love you
More than youâll ever know
More than youâll ever know
âSo funny,â you counter.Â
Eventually, the server comes back with a bottle. â1982 Chateau Latife Rothschild,â he holds it out to present, âIs this alright?âÂ
Despite the years spent with Satoru, and the many elitist events you often attended with him, your knowledge on wine had never surpassed anything but surface level. You knew the difference between good wine and cheap wine was the taste, but your taste buds had grown accustomed to store-bought, so if anything, store-bought tasted like heaven to you. Anyway, though, you nod your head and urge him to pour a glass.Â
âThank you,â you smile, before gently swirling the glass and bringing it up to your nose to smell (something you only know to do after being the odd man out at so many company banquets). Satoru waits for you to sip your glass before he sips his. The way you melt into your seat is a silent assurance that youâre pleased.Â
âThis is great, youâre amazing,â you tell the server, who seems pleased by your compliment.Â
âGlad to be of service, miss. Are you ready to order?âÂ
Dinner goes by smoothly. In fact, it goes by so smoothly, you and Satoru finish the entire bottle of wine. Now you sit at the table, bellies full, faces flushed and sore from laughing, and now you find yourself telling him about the grocery store incident. If you had half a mind (a sober one), youâd shut up right this second to save yourself from the embarrassment. But you donât. And Satoruâs very persuasive when youâre tipsy.Â
âKeep going,â he leans in, hand nestled under his chin. Heâs completely invested in the story. Actually, as soon as he heard the words âstoreâ and âcute guyâ, he just had to know more. And you begging him to change the subject didnât help, not when the sadist in him loved to see you so embarrassed.Â
âFine,â you hiccup, âIt was so - so bad, Toru.â He doesnât miss the way you slip and call him by the nickname youâd always reserved for him. It makes his heart race, and god, does he miss the way it sounds spilling from your lips. But he ignores the feeling, and refocuses on your story instead. Which, by the way, was proving to be a task in itself because his eyes couldnât stop drifting back down to your lips. So soft, soâ
âAnd then she said âwe donât believe in rings,ââ you whisper, fist coming down on the table. The sound it makes nearly sobers you up, and you realize just how loud youâre being despite your table being secluded from others. Giggling like a kid, you continue, âI mean, how fucking insane is that?!âÂ
âSomething as bizarre as that could only ever happen to you,â he replies, laughing along with you, âthose people were crazy.âÂ
âThe craziest,â you agree, throwing your head back in another fit of laughter. Gradually, the two of you begin to settle down, and once again, you find your attention being drawn back to the man on the stage. Only this time, heâs making an announcement.
âGood evening ladies and gentleman. Tonight Iâve got a special request,â he says, looking out into the audience. Looking at you. âThis oneâs for a very special lady who, from what Iâve been told, is a great mother that needs to start doing things for herself.âÂ
The singer steps out of the spotlight and hands the note to a server. Your server. Then he begins to sing, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. It was your wedding song.Â
[...] I donât even know how to love you
Just the way you want me to
But Iâm ready (ready) to learn (to learn)
Yes, Iâm ready (ready) to learn (to learn)
âNow this one? This one was me,â Satoru leans forward, and you swiftly turn your head to face him. He smiles as he watches your face go through ten different emotions before ultimately softening. It warms your heart to see how incredibly planned this evening was, despite the amount of time he was given to work with. Even so, it kind of scares youâbecause then that meant this was a grand gestureâthat this was his way of saying something. And you werenât too sure if you wanted to hear it. Your gaze drops to your lap, and Satoru frowns.Â
To fall in loveÂ
To fall in love
To fall in love with youâŚ
âLook at me,â he says softly, but you donât. âHey, look at me.â He reaches over the table to take your chin in between his fingers. The touch alone feels electric. Sends liquid hot lightning down the column of your spine. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, and like always, itâs suffocating. Theyâre so wide with hope, and so, so gentle in the way they hold you. The longer you gaze upon them, the more you convince yourself itâll be okay if you surrender to them.Â
âItâs been years since weâve divorced,â his voice is shaky, almost strained, like heâs actively thinking how to choose his words carefully, âand when we sat down that night, I thought it was what I wanted, too, you know? And for a while, it was,â he reaches a hand across the table to rest atop your own, âbut you gotta knowâŚyou gotta knowâyouâre it for me. Thereâs no one else on this Earth that I want to start over with. Youâve always been the beginning and end of my story, and Iâll be damned if I let another man start one with you.â
Your heart is beating faster than you can even process what heâs saying. The only thing youâre focused on is not passing out in the middle of this damn restaurant. But then heâs squeezing your hand, and your focus is drawn back to those piercing, pale blues that even put crystals to shame.Â
âSo what do you say?â he says, so softly, so tender. âCan we try again?â
Waiting for your reply, he squeezes your hand again. Itâs like your soul is wandering the line between death and the living, and his touch is the tether that brings you back. In the background, the tune of the song sung at your wedding gives you a push of courage.Â
I donât even know how to kiss your lips (kiss your lips)
At a moment like this
But Iâm going to learn how to doÂ
All the things you want me to
Yes, Iâm ready
(Are you ready?) Yes, Iâm ready
To fall in love
To fall in love
To fall in love right now
âYes.â
The walk back to the car is hurried. Aided by both, years and years of built up tension, and the liquid courage currently bubbling in your systems.Â
The race back to his apartment is even faster. You thank the gods silently that itâs within close proximity to where you just were.Â
Once you get there, make your way past the doorman and concierge (who both give the two of you a knowing look), go up the elevator, and finally get into his loftâitâs over. Years of restraint, years of pretending, wantingâyearning, come crashing down.Â
Thereâs barely any time to close the door before heâs pushing you against it. His lips trail down the column of your neck, then come up to kiss your jaw, until eventually, they find your lips. And when they do, itâs instantaneousâthat familiar feeling, the feeling that feels almost like falling.Â
Once again, for what felt like centuries, you feel again the rush of helplessness. The push and pull of the tide. It brings you down, down, down to the bottom of the ocean floor, and itâs unmerciful.Â
Kissing Satoru is like being shocked with ten thousand volts of energy. Like all this time youâve spent not kissing him, has been costing you your life, and heâs the only one who can deliver you salvation. Itâs all teeth and tongue for a minute. Messy, and sticky, and nasty. A true testament to the desperation brewing in the pits of both your stomachs.Â
The sensation of it all has your knees going slack, and thatâs when he saysâ
âJump.âÂ
Obeying, you do just that. Jump right into his arms, and wrap your legs around his torso like youâve done so many times before. The way you feel now is the way you used to feel before then, too. Like you were made to fit like this. To be held in his arms like you were molded from the same clay.Â
Carefully, he adjusts his grip on your body. Keeps his palms planted on the bottoms of your ass, and begins the trek to his room. He struggles a bit getting there because you havenât stopped kissing since entering the apartment, but he figures it out after a stumble or two (which resulted in a bitten lip and you apologizing profusely through giggles).Â
âThe turbulence up here is crazy, donât blame me, blame the pilot,â you jest, kissing down his neck to make up for it.Â
âIâll make sure to let him know,â he jokes back. As soon as he gets to the bed, he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You try to bring him down to your height but he stops you, wags his finger in your face playfully before using it to push you back into the bed. His fingers start to play with the fabric of your dress, and then his face takes on an indifferent expression. The same one from earlier that night when he first saw you walking down the stairs.Â
âCanât believe you were gonna wear this for himâŚâ he trails, lifting the fabric up slowly, eyeing you while doing so, âas if this dress doesnât mean something.âÂ
Of course, when Shoko chose it, its significance did make you falterâbut in your defense, not once did you ever anticipate for him to see you in it. And you especially didnât expect for him to remember it, the last time you wore it was almost a decade ago.Â
âI didnâtâŚâ you start, a smile creeping on your lips, âthink you remembered?â
ââCourse I did, how could I not?â He says more sharply than intended, taking offense. He takes offense because he spent the better half of the night showing you he remembered. The little things and everything else in between. Couldnât you see that?
âIt was our 4th anniversary. Bought you this dress and fucked you in it that same night. Funny how the second time Iâm seeing you in this dress, the circumstances are the same except only this time weâre divorced,â he says, crawling over your body. âGuess I gotta show you just how much I remember.âÂ
With that, he slips a hand under your dress, pulls your panties to the side and runs a finger down your slit. Oh-so-willingly, do you spread your legs for him. Itâs almost subconscious, the way your body responds to him. And he revels in it. Lets his fingers work you, feel you, bring you to ecstasy. Then he heightens your pleasure tenfold when he kisses his way down your body, and takes a seat before you on his knees.Â
Unceremoniously, he pulls your body to the edge of the bed. Takes his time slipping your panties down the length of your legs, then kisses the insides of your thighs, before finally stopping at your mound.Â
Slowly, he lowers himself to your cunt, kisses your clit softly. Once, twice, three times. The pace in which heâs moving is killing you, to say the least. But you know heâs savoring the moment, making up for all the years he spent not kneeling like this between your legs. So you let him; let him caress you all over before he comes seeking the honey-sweet salvation dripping from your core.Â
The second his tongue makes contact with your heat, you find yourself clamping a heavy hand over your mouth. âFuck, Toruuuu,â you drawl, back arching off the bed. Pleased with his abilities, he smiles smugly, using this as an opportunity to push himself even deeper. Up and down, he licks at your slit, uses his fingers in tandem with his tongue to prod at that spongy spot he knows you love.Â
âTastes,â a harsh suck, âso good,â another, âbetter than I remember.âÂ
You know heâs talking, but his words fall on deaf ears. Youâre so caught up in your own high, you donât even take notice of the obscene sloshing sounds coming from your pussy, or the moans youâre making. All you can do is lay there and take it as he takes, and takes, and takes from you.Â
Soon, you find your orgasm cutting through you like a knife, and you come with a strangled cry that has you biting back tears. Satoru talks you through the whole thing. He lays his head down on your thigh and continues working you with his fingers until you start to shake from the overstimulation.Â
For a few, you lay and stare at the ceiling. You think you can see the Milky Wayâand all the constellations that make it up. It feels like your soul is floating beyond your physical body, and you donât come back down to Earth until a sharp, stinging sensation brings you back. Did he just?
âDid you just bite me?â you lift your head, peering down to see the evidence. In all its glory, there it was; a red ring smack-dab in the inside of your thigh with teeth imprints. Looking at Satoru, he grins.Â
âHad to get you back from earlier,â he says, sitting back on his knees. You attempt to kick him with your foot, but he grabs hold of it. Pretending to be wounded, he gasps, âIs this how you treat the man who just gave you a soul-shattering orgasm?âÂ
You roll your eyes, but to your dismay, it only encourages him to continue.Â
âFuck, Toru,â he mimics, âoh my god, Toru. You fuck me so gooââ
âAlright, enough!â you manage to kick him this time, laughing as you bring up your hands to cover your face. âKeep carrying on like that and I wonât let you fuck meâŚâ Youâre serious in your bite, but heâs smirking. Like he knows youâre full of bullshit.Â
âYeah right. You and I both know I make you feel too good.âÂ
Feeling bested, you scoff, though, thereâs no real weight behind it. While he begins to remove his shirt, you sit up and replace his hands. He relinquishes control and allows you to unbutton it until the item falls haphazardly to the floor.Â
Heâs so beautiful, you think. Still so chiseled, so perfect after all these years since youâve last seen him like this. At his most vulnerable. The only difference now is that there are more freckles littered across his skin. Back then, heâd say they were signs of aging, and heâd hate them.Â
But heâs older now. More mature. So much so that he even winks at you when you trace your fingertips over them.
âThey suit you,â you whisper.Â
âYeah?â
You nod your head, âmhm.âÂ
Continuing your ministrations, you begin removing his belt. He holds your gaze the entire time it takes for you to unzip his pants and pull them downâand he doesnât once shy away when you discover the wet spot on the front of his briefs. Slowly, delicately, you remove the soiled item and let it fall down to the floor with the rest of his clothes.Â
Still looking at him, you take hold of his length and fist him once, twice, experimentally. A dribble of pre oozes from his slit and you bring it to your mouth. All the air in his lungs expel into the air when you lick it off with your tongue, and god, he thinks he could come from that alone.Â
God, heâs missed you. Missed your touch, your lipsâthe way you hold him with your eyes like heâs something worth being gentle with. Nothing could ever compare to you, not even his own hand.Â
As soon as youâre about to take him in your mouth, he stops you. Pushes you back down onto the bed and slots himself between your legs. âNo more playing, Iâm tired of playing,â he breathes, lowering himself down until half of his weight is on top of you.Â
Guiding his cock to your entrance, he pushes past your folds with little resistance. The feeling of your cunt squeezing him in has his arms wobbling like jelly, but he musters enough strength somehow to stay up. You, on the other hand, are close to tears.Â
The more he eases himself in, the more you feel like youâre being stretched open (despite him previously prepping you). If you were being truthful, this wasnât a complete shock to you. Youâve known that heâs always been big, but something about tonight feels different. Or maybe itâs just been too long since youâve had something more than just your own fingers.Â
Even so, you try your best to ignore the burn of the stretch. You throw your arms around his neck and invite him deeper into you, hooking your legs around him so tightly that it renders his limbs useless. For a minute, all you can feel is the weight of him inside of you, and his chest against yours as they rise and fall asynchronously.Â
âToru,â your voice is just barely above a whisper, but enough to make the hairs on the nape of his neck stand. âMake love to me.âÂ
Heeding your request, he begins moving. Painfully slow, he unsheathes himself from you until only the head of his cock is inside, then pushes himself all the way back in with force. Again, and again, he repeats this motion. Pulls out, pushes in. Pulls out, pushes in, until he decides to increase his pace and set a steady rhythm.Â
Every thrust into you is meticulously calculated. Sharp, and forceful, and not once does he disrupt the rhythm. He listens carefully to the sounds you make. Even listens to the way your breath hitches when he hits a spot right. Everything heâs doing is perfectâand itâs to no surprise. Deep down, you know that Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand. Heâd know it if you were all old and wrinkly. Heâd know it if his soul reincarnated. Hell, heâd know it blind.Â
âMissed this,â he grunts, burying his head into the interstice of your neck, âmissed you,â a kiss to your neck, âmissed us.âÂ
The veracity of his words render you speechless. Heâs already professed his feelings for you tonight, but it feels even more real now that youâre beneath him. To be loved by Gojo Satoru was a feeling many couldnât say they had the consolation of knowing. Only a few in his circle could hold that positionâbut only one person in this world could truly ever know his love to its fullest extent. You.Â
Satoru continues his mindless rambling, âI love you,â a thrust, âitâs always been you,â another, âwas always going to be you.â Leaning back on his heels, he pushes your dress all the way up to reveal your breasts. Now itâs him who sits back and admires this time. As if he were reacquainting himself, he traces the planes and pastures of your chest with an eager hand. He runs it up and over each mound, squeezing and kneading the flesh experimentally.Â
Then, he dips down and kisses the space between them. Sucks and licks until the skin bruises, and he has evidence to prove tonight actually happened. Eventually, he withdraws from your chest and returns his focus on easing his cock in and out of your cunt.Â
âSo beautiful,â he says, but itâs more to himself than anything. Youâre so lost in your own pleasure, he doesnât even think you can hear him. âWant you to cum on my cock, know you can do it, baby. Know you can,â he grunts, taking your hand and intertwining it with his own. Letting his head fall into your neck, he begins to quicken his pace. Fucks into you with everything heâs got and willing to give.Â
âToru,â you finally manage to say, ââm so close, keep going. Do it - do it inside.âÂ
Do it inside. Do it inside. Do it inside. The thought is tempting, too tempting. It makes his dick twitch inside of you, and he swears if you say it again, heâll actually do it. But he knows better than to listen to anything you say out of delirium.Â
âTrust me, sweet girl,â he cradles your face, to which you lean into, âI want to - I want to so fucking badly. But we both know youâd regret it later.âÂ
Whining, your lips form into a pout, and the sight is so cute, he canât help but to kiss it off of you. Compared to your kiss earlier, this one is much sweeter. Slower. More relaxed. He kisses you with the intent of making you dizzier than you already are, and itâs scary. Even so, you donât pull away. You allow him to drink you up. Like your lips are the only source of water around, and heâs been quenched for days.Â
Finally, with a few more thrusts, you reach your climax. The pressure building in the pit of your belly pops like a balloon, and everything goes white. âToru!â you shriek, arching off the bed and trembling in his grasp.Â
Using your arch as leverage, he keeps his hands underneath your back and continues to ram into you without abandon. Youâre a babbling, wet mess at this point, and your cunt squeezing around him only encourages him more.Â
âFuckfuckfuck, âm gonna - âm gonna,â he curses, balls beginning to tighten. Quickly, he unsheathes himself and fists himself the rest of the way. With an impassioned moan, he climaxesâspurting thick, white, ropes of seed all over your abdomen. Then, falls onto your limp body with a grunt, chest heaving rapidly, and slick with perspiration.Â
By this time, youâve settled down enough to form a proper sentence. âThat wasâŚâ
Satoru huffs, catching his breath. âYeah.âÂ
Still spent, he continues to lay atop you. And you, having nowhere else to go, let him. The two of you lay comfortably in silence like this for a long time. Just you tracing shapes into his back, and him purring into your neck. Both of you know you should be getting up, but neither of you make an effort to do so. In this moment, time is transcendent. There is no rush to move when time stands still for you.Â
Soon, that silence is broken.Â
âI love you,â you say, and thereâs no elaboration. Not even a recant. In fact, you say it so nonchalantly, heâs not even sure it was real. You say it like youâve never been more certain in your life, like itâs the easiest thing youâve ever had to do.Â
âReally?â he queries, almost pathetically like the mere idea of you loving him is something unattainable. You look at him like heâs got two heads.Â
âYeah, youâre my best friend. Iâve always loved you,â you admit, pausing your ministrations on his back, âI just had to relearn how to love you.â He smiles at this, hums into your neck to keep from crying.Â
âIâm glad we found our way back to each other,â he mumbles into your neck, âso where do we go from here?â
âFrom here we take it slow. Weâll learn together what it means to be individuals, and then from there weâll see where it goes,â you say matter-of-factly, âno more repeating past mistakes.â
âAgreed,â he nods, âwhat will we tell the girls?â
Thatâs when your eyes widen and you sit up, forcefully pushing Satoru off of you.Â
âWhat did I say, whatâs wrong?â he queries, sitting up on the bed. He watches you rummage around the room maniacally, head on a swivel as you run out of the room and return with a purse. You pull your phone out to see a slew of missed calls and messages.Â
âWe forgot to call the girls!â You yell, showing him your phone screen of missed calls. Gojo jumps up to join you, one leg already sliding into his pants.Â
âShit!âÂ
Noticing the state of your appearance, you pinch the skin between your brows. âSatoru, I canât wear this! You got cum all over it,â you groan, pointing to all the splotches of white. He tells you to wait a second before disappearing into his closet, then he comes back with a fist of clothes and throws it at you.Â
âI canât wear this either, theyâll wonder why Iâm wearing your clothes!âÂ
Satoru runs to you and pull the dress off of your body, âWeâll wash it!â he screams, disappearing again out of the room, and to where you imagine, the laundry room. When he returns, heâs out of breath and panting. Itâs only then do you realize how insane he looks with half his shirt buttoned, and his pants twisted around his hips. A giggle escapes your lips.
âWhat are you laughing at? Chop chop,â he claps, ushering you into his bathroom.Â
Yeah, youâd be lying if you said you didnât miss this idiot.