#gojo satoru series

[planetnini]

ONE — MAYBE I COULD FIX HIM ?

with the week you're having, you don't have it in you anymore to deal with anymore bullshit and take it out on your asshole of a roommate gojo satoru (3.8k words)

content. cheating (we don’t do the cheating), named ex: hiroto, shoko is an extremely good judge of character, geto suguru the man that you are, gojo is a bit of an asshole, reader goes off at the end (rightfully so) <33

Whoever said that if you do what you love, you'll never work another day in your life was a liar. Sure it was a well-meaning sentiment and while it filled your soul with some semblance of hope on some days, it was the main reason you were struggling with your degree and drowning in work. 

So much for dreaming big…

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” the girl questioned. The smoke from her cigarette created an odour that permeated the air as you let out a sigh, leaning back on the wall.

“That shit’s gonna kill you one day.” you muttered moving your head toward the cigarette in between her fingers as you turned your attention to the scene in front of you, waiting for her to finish.

“Make sure I have a nice funeral.” she chuckled before puffing out a cloud of smoke as she pulled the cigarette away from her mouth. When you didn't laugh at her comment, she just stared at you. Your eyes were closed and breathing a little jagged as she observed. Did you think she wouldn't notice?

Ieriri does not reveal much about herself, but everyone that was friends with her knew she was deathly loyal and cared for her friends in a unique way. She put the stick up to her mouth inhaling as she spoke, "You look like shit.” 

“You know how my afternoon lectures are.” she sighed.

She put out her cigarette in the ashtray bin and tucked her hands into her pocket. She was not at all convinced by your story. 

“Hold it Missy.” she demanded and of course your feet stopped in its tracks before her, “Tell me what’s wrong now.”

“I’ve been hearing things about Hiroto.”

You don’t think you’ve met someone that hated Hiroto more than your best friend herself. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as you mentioned your boyfriend or as she called him ‘he-who-must-not-be-named’. She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, her lips pulling into a pout. She always had a thing for the dramatics.

"What else is new? Hiroto is a scumbag."

"Ieiri!" you scolded, frowning at her choice of words. 

She scoffed with a shrug before she linked your arms in hers and started walking toward the cafe. You had no idea what she had against Hiroto. He was the most popular guy in your university, and he was the one everyone wanted to be with, but it came as a surprise when he chose you. He had eyes for you, and you couldn't understand why anyone would want you of all people so he asked you out one day and you didn't have the heart to say no. Even if you had liked him at the time, which you didn’t, you still couldn't have said no, it would have been an opportunity wasted. He wasn’t the nicest guy but you would say he treated you well so you defended him every time.

“I still don't understand what you see in him.”

You smiled faintly, “As much as you doubt him, he really does care about me."

You could tell that Ieiri didn’t approve. She never made her opinion on him a secret, and you don’t expect her to start now. 

She rolled her eyes again and sighed, "Yeah, well you should really find someone better, like a certain someone."

It was your turn to roll your eyes at the thought of who she was referring to: a certain white haired roommate of yours. 

“I hope you’re not trying to suggest who I think you are?” you stated as she gave you a sly smirk before shrugging.

“Have things with Satoru been better?”

You paused, contemplating on how to respond as you both walked into the cafe. You turned your attention to the menu as you stood in line. Your eyes scanned over the pamphlet you received when you walked in as you also looked at the assortment of baked goods and pastries. 

"I still can't quite figure him out." you muttered as you stared at some of the menu items.

Her curiosity was piqued as you said this, already knowing what she would order as she stared at you now. "What's he up to now?" she asked.

When you got to university, you opted to follow your dreams and your heart and while you looked forward to finishing your degree, reaching your dreams and goals was expensive, which was something you had known as a teen. It explained why you had to get a job that definitely does not pay minimum wage and why you had to room with Satoru Gojo, as per Ieiri’s request, just to be able to do what you love.

At first, you had thanked Ieiri for convincing the prestigious Gojo Satoru to be your roommate at the start but when he moved in, you were less than grateful.

Gojo Satoru was a scion of a wealthy and successful family making him the epitome of privilege: rich, handsome, and effortlessly at the top of his class without ever needing to study– he pretty much had everything handed to him on a silver platter. 

The first few months were turbulent, to say the least. Gojo acted like a spoiled prince, which was not surprising, always expecting things to be done for him and showing little regard for your personal space or boundaries. Arguments were frequent and inevitable but you shouldn't be complaining, he was the one paying most of the rent. 

Entitlement dripped from his every pore but then something shifted. With you trying to assert your own space and independence against his behaviour and actions, it was as though he had picked up on your growing frustration and decided to turn over a new leaf or whatever. 

It started with small gestures- he'd clean up after himself, occasionally ask if you needed anything from the store, and even helped out with chores around the apartment. These moments, though rare, caught you off guard. You couldn't help but wonder if it was all an act, a facade he put on simply because you were sharing a living space. Deep down, you were convinced that the 'nice' Gojo was just a pretence to keep the peace.

Yet, there were times when you couldn't ignore the fact that he seemed genuinely concerned about you, though these moments were fleeting– hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and his usual arrogance.

“He is just utterly unpredictable." you sighed as you put a hand over your eyes in frustration.

"Sounds like Satoru." she chuckled.

“I don’t know, it just feels like he’s nice to me because I’m friends with you.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow, a hint of concern in her eyes. "Are you saying he's being fake around you because of our friendship?"

"Yeah, sometimes it feels that way. Like he's just putting on a show."

Shoko's lips pulled into a small frown, her eyebrows knitting together, "That doesn't sound like him at all. Maybe he's just trying to be friends with you."

You had been so focused on the topic at hand, you hadn't realised you were at the front of the line.

You shrugged, "It's probably nothing.”

"Stop thinking about Satoru, you’re holding up the line." she scoffed as she smiled at the cashier.

You gave the worker an apologetic smile before turning to the person behind you, "Sorry, about that."

After ordering your favourite drink and some pastries, you approached a small table to sit. “I don’t know. I mean I guess Gojo and I are friends but still, I’m a bit suspicious.”

“I don’t think he would do something like that for my sake.”

"It just feels like you're trying to get him on my good side, I wonder why that is." you hummed with a tilt of your head, raising your brows at her.

"I think my best friend just deserves someone better." she shrugged with a pout.

"And Gojo is 'someone better'?" you scoffed.

Her hesitance was telling and you could see the gears shifting in her head, "That's like asking if apple juice is better than orange juice."

You rolled your eyes at her and looked around the café. The coffee beans alongside the soft humming of the machine, muffled speaking, jazz that played through the speakers really defined the atmosphere. Perhaps this place would become a regular study spot if they nailed just how you liked your drinks. 

“Thank you for coming with me by the way.”

“No problem.”

You had a small smile on your lips as Ieiri decided to fold the receipt she had in her hand into origami, your eyes leisurely scanned over the cafe's charming layout but then, as fate would have it, your heart suddenly felt like it had been gripped by an icy hand, causing it to skip a beat.

The cafe that once felt spacious now seemed to shrink around you, constricting your senses. Your gaze, once idly roaming the room, had fixated on an all-too-familiar figure.

There, amidst the warm, cosy ambiance of the cafe, sat Hiroto. He was not alone. He was sitting across from another girl, their faces close. A rare smile was etched across his features, who was she to be able to make him look at her like that? He had never looked at you that way… 

Maybe it was a friend?

Ieiri, perceptive as ever, noticed the abrupt change in your expression. Her eyes followed your gaze instinctively, and when she locked onto what you were seeing, her face transformed from one of carefree enjoyment to sheer disbelief and anger. 

Their smiles were flirtatious and you could feel the creeping feeling of fear settle in your bones.

They were completely engrossed in each other, oblivious to the world around them as they leaned in for a kiss. Definitely not a friend.

Ieiri was right. He was a scumbag.

Your mind couldn't quite grasp what was unfolding before your eyes, reality not even seeming real for a second.

Confrontation was the last thing on your mind. You didn't want to cause a scene, not here, not now, even if every fibre of your being screamed for justice.

Shoko's fingers tightened around her origami creation, crumpling it as her anger flared up. Her eyes locked onto the two with an intensity that could have scorched the room. 

She had always been vocal about her disdain for him, and this seemed like the perfect moment to let it all out. Without hesitation, Shoko started to push her chair back, her intention clear: she was going to confront Hiroto, give him a piece of her mind, and let the whole café know about his deceit. To berate him for everything he did to you, everything he did that you were too blind to see. You sat there in silence, your heart heavy with disbelief and betrayal but instinctively your hand reached out for hers. You shook your head ever so slightly, silently pleading with her not to make a scene.

“We can't just let him get away with this." she whispered back, her frustration growing by the minute.

Shoko's anger was palpable, and her lips quivered with the words she wanted to unleash but she respected your unspoken plea, if only for now, and reluctantly sank back into her chair waiting for your order number to be called out. Once you received the drinks and pastries, the two of you continued walking back to your shared apartment, the weight of the situation heavy on your mind as a tear slipped from your eyes. You had no goddamn appetite now.

The evening had taken an unsettling turn for you. After returning from a troubling encounter at the café that you wished you could just forget, you found yourself back in your cosy apartment that you shared with the Satoru Gojo, the most popular boy on campus.

As you pushed off your shoes and set them by the door, you overheard some of Gojo's friends chatting in the main area. Forcing a smile, you greeted the people in the room as Ieiri followed behind you, making her presence known as she greeted them as well. You placed the bag of pastries on the table, knowing that for certain, Gojo would inhale them when he got his hands on them.

“Hey, do you have a smoke?” Geto asked Ieiri as he looked over his shoulder. Next thing you knew, Geto had moved to sit across from you at the island counter while you sipped at your glass of water, mind wandering back to your jerk of a boyfriend. “How are you?” he inquired, patiently waiting for your response.

“I’m alright, thanks,” you mumbled, trying to muster a genuine smile in response to his concern. 

Geto waved a hand in front of your face as your thoughts drifted. Suddenly, you were locked into eye contact with him. Leaning down to eye level, he asked, “You sure you’re okay? You look a bit tired,” a playful chuckle escaping his lips.

You sighed a little before shaking your head resolutely, “Just had a terrible fucking week.”

Geto chuckled, “Tell me about it.” he scoffed, commiserating with your struggles. Although he didn’t know the full story, it didn’t matter, you were seen for a second and it felt good, "I swear they have it out for us."

Ieiri was best friends with both Gojo and Geto in high school. You never really understood their dynamic at all but the brief interactions shared with Geto had been enough for you to come up with a comprehensive answer. 

Many people around had said that Geto was like the sun personified, radiating this warmth and light wherever he went. His presence had an undeniable magnetic quality, drawing people toward him but he could leave an indelible mark on anyone in his presence. It was quite possible that what was true, made you smile a little.

Gojo's friends continued their lively chatter, sharing stories and laughter and it wasn’t until you heard the tap turn on that you realised Gojo is standing right next to you drinking water aswell.

“Hey. You smoking or what? I don’t have all day, Suguru,” Shoko chimed in, her voice cutting through the conversation.

“That shit will kill you one day Suguru.” he muttered next to you.

“Funny. You said the same thing to me today.” Ieiri commented and you could feel all their gazes land on you.

“I guess we’re a lot alike.” Gojo joked and you feel yourself smile at his words as Geto and Shoko shared a look.

Geto cleared his throat, a hand coming up to your shoulder, “Things will get better, I promise.” he smiled as both he and Shoko exited the apartment for their smoke.

The atmosphere inside the apartment shifted slightly as you were left alone in the kitchen with Gojo.

“What was that about?” he spoke, regarding the comment that Geto had just made. 

You turned your attention to Gojo and shook your head dismissively, “It’s nothing.”

“You sure? You can talk to me, you know?”

“I know,” you nodded, “It’s nothing, really.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” he took another sip of his water. 

You paused for a moment, “If I knew you had guests over, I would've brought them some as well.” you stated, pointing at the pastries from the café in the bag.

Gojo raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "So those pastries are for me?" he inquired, his playful tone evident.

"Don't push it." you scoffed, your heart warming at his teasing for just a second. There is suddenly a nagging feeling that tells you he is just being nice to you due to the circumstances.

You clear your throat as you tear your gaze away from him, "Are your friends staying for dinner? If they are, I might skip."  You weren’t exactly feeling like yourself, and would rather not be spending time around people you hardly knew. You were just getting warmed up to the man next to you anyways.

“They’re not staying over. Even if they were, I don't really encourage skipping meals.” Gojo replied, his tone shifting between genuine concern and playfulness.

You can’t even force yourself to smile at his concern, you wanted to keep the discussion going, but your recent experience at the café had left you feeling on edge. "I guess I’ll see you at dinner then." you teased, your playful tone masking the underlying curiosity you had about his intentions. Did he truly want to be friends with you or was he doing it just out of pity? 

He nodded at you and you retreated back into your room to grab some clothes but the voices of his friends drifted into your ears.

“Was that Hiroto’s girlfriend?”

“Yeah.” you heard the familiar white haired boy reply.

Their conversation had been about you, and you knew it. Trying to push yourself to stop them from eavesdropping, you shook your head and continued at finding some comfortable clothes for tonight. You needed to do something to take your mind off the events from earlier.

"Wait, seriously? I thought he was dating someone else."

Their words cast a shadow over your thoughts and only amplified your bad mood. You clenched your fists, trying to push down the mixture of anger and hurt.

“I don’t know how she’s still with him.”

The weight of their judgement had hit you harder than ever, especially after what you had witnessed earlier. As you contemplated confronting them about it, you could hear the hushed murmurs growing louder, escalating your frustration as a couple of voices interject. 

“She’s kind of pathetic. Don’t you think so?”

You weren't ready to hear them belittle you any further, so you decided to retreat to the sanctuary of the shower, hoping the water would wash away the bitterness. 

You turned on the water, stepping into the shower trying to drown out the sound of their voices echoing in your head. You wished you hadn't noticed how little effort Gojo made to defend you. Perhaps you were wrong to think the two of you were friends to begin with and considering his track record, maybe you shouldn’t have been so lenient to think he was different.

As you emerged from the shower, refreshed but still vulnerable, you were in the confines of your room as you messaged Shoko about what had happened. You knew she would give her a piece of her mind when she saw him next. You laid in bed, letting out some breaths steadying your heartrate as you heard Gojo call for you from outside your door. You weren't prepared for this, not after what you just heard between him and his friends.

With your emotions still raw and your nerves on edge, you slowly opened the door to find Gojo standing there, his usual confident demeanour softened.

His presence in the dimly lit hallway was both comforting and disconcerting. You met his gaze, your eyes holding a mixture of anxiety and frustration.

Gojo's voice was gentle but laced with concern as he spoke, "I sent my friends home.”

You nodded, not even bringing it in yourself to even berate him for being an absolute asshole to you when he thought you weren’t listening.

“I noticed you've been quiet since you got home. Is everything okay? Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?"

Your emotions, a turbulent whirlwind of hurt and anger, surged within you. With a deep breath, you finally found your voice, but your words came out sharp and accusatory, "I don't appreciate it Gojo," you began, your tone wavering but determined, "I know what you and your friends say about me when you think I'm not listening."

Gojo's brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about," you continued, your voice quivering with anger.

You could see Gojo's expression shift from confusion to realisation, and a pang of regret flickered in his eyes. His usually playful demeanour had vanished, replaced by a sombre and sincere expression.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispered, his voice sincere but unsure of how to proceed.

You felt tears well up in your eyes replaying the pain of your boyfriend cheating on you and the callous things they said behind your back. The disappointment of his apology settled in- he’s only sorry because he got caught. 

“That was the last thing I expected from you.” you spat out. "I thought…” you let out a deep breath, your words hanging with every ounce of pain that you’d felt today. You shook your head as you continued, “I thought we were friends."

"We are." he declared, his eyes wavering now. With guilt or concern, you couldn't tell but you knew he didn't really care.

"We're not." you emphasised, still burning with the fury of all the events that transpired today. "Every day, I see you look at me with those eyes that say how pathetic you think I look."

Gojo's brow furrowed in frustration with himself. He wanted to say the right words, to offer comfort, but he struggled to find them. He stepped a little closer, his hands outstretched towards you. You stepped back, your heart pounding erratically, and he instantly retreated.

“You have no idea how much it hurts but I guess I shouldn’t have trusted you to begin with.”

Without giving him a chance to speak, you shut the door with trembling hands. You felt a thud against the door on the opposite end and you could hear him muttered a few curse words as you slid down the surface defeatedly.

His face that was etched with guilt and regret. That look was embedded in your head as you let the tears slip down your face. He gave a resigned sigh before turning away and trudging off towards the kitchen to make dinner– alone.

You stayed in your room until you heard the door to his room close after a couple hours of distracting yourself: with studying, messaging Shoko how much you hated Gojo, and cleaning your room. Retreating from your bedroom as quietly as you can, you see a plate of food he made for you wrapped up with a small post it note on your favourite drink next to it.

I know you're still mad at me, but I hope you don’t skip dinner. Eat well, you'll need the strength... ᕙ(‾̀◡‾́)ᕗ

You scoffed at his note, scrunching it up, putting it in your pocket. It was all just lip-service.

As you sat there alone, your eyes welled up with tears, and you could feel your composure slipping away. The weight of the day became too much to bear. Your heart ached, the hurt and betrayal coursing through you as you sobbed softly.

What a terrible fucking week.

tags! @stsgluver @pandoraium @cottonheadedninnymugggins @satoryaa @bbyxxm @itsthemodelinme @sattosugu

notes. this is not proofread. i don't think the last half of this is as good but... we move!!! i'm sick and wanted to give back with the first chapter since i have some free time to write now <3 it gets better i promise, please comment and give me some love (or feedback), thank you :)

#yours truly nini #n: bewitched #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru series #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru imagine #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk #jjk gojo #jjk fics #jjk series #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fics #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru #shoko ieiri

[ryujnn]

⊳ akuma ﾟ｡ ⋆ i’ll count the stars tonight.

⊳ chapter summary ﾟ｡ ⋆ after gojo and the reader tell tales from the past, they begin to grow closer with one another — just not as close as the date for the reader’s fight.

⊳ chapter warnings ﾟ｡ ⋆ gojo’s domesticated. swearing. more sexual tension. intrusion. info about the readers clan. no major warnings yet.

⊳ note ﾟ｡ ⋆ omg the fight??? who’s gonna win??? omg???? rika returns???? why????? so many questions!!!!! i hope you all enjoy, send me your asks about how you feel about the chapter or any questions!

tag list. visual + character board. prev. next.

The night is hushed, full moon blooming over the jungle trees standing to its highest statue — the wind singing it’s favorite tunes once it approaches midnight. If phones weren’t available, the routine of the dark would be it’s very own clock.

The sounds of fresh leaves that have fallen from the saplings being crushed by bare feet was the only interrupter. With each step followed a larger one about thirty seconds later, yet the second pair of footsteps were slower and heavier.

“Stop running, Rika!”

A guards voice was scary on its own, but the heavy military grade weapon that he held like a flower increased the sweat that grew on the woman’s palms — the same woman who was running from him.

Rika, a woman with beautiful long hair that fell down her back — an amazing frame and a unique sense of cursed energy, had been running from the guards of the Shio clan; with her newborn baby in hand.

“Tell me about your clan.”

“A new generation starts after the fight between two siblings. The winner gets to knock up five different women, marry their pick of the bunch, and train those kids for their own fight.”

“Out of those five kids, the two strongest will compete and the other three will marry a woman and have one child. Their children don’t fight, the weaker siblings basically get a pass — they just have to have one child in case one of them were a bearer of five.”

Gojo’s eyes were on the ground as he soaked up this information about your clan. He could’ve learned this if Himari would’ve died any later, but he enjoys hearing it from you nonetheless. You guys don’t talk, especially not like this — deep and personal.

“How do you know what power they have?”

“Eye color. Heterochromia eyes are space, Blue for water, Brown for earth, Green is air, — Amber is for fire. Pitch black eyes are for bearers of five.”

“So—”

“Not yet, Mr,” You lean forward to set your glass down, keeping yourself warm by cuddling up with your cardigan. “It’s my turn to ask questions.”

Aware of his word, Gojo can only tell you so much. There’s things he cannot share, that he can’t explain or tell you until a certain time — and he refuses to lie to you, especially about some of the information you want to know.

So, he’s honest.

“I can’t morally tell you why I married you. I kept a promise. I can tell you later on, when the time is right,” Satoru’s keeping his eyes on you, waiting for an expression to change. It’s just so hard to read you. He can’t tell if he’s pissed you off or if you didn’t hear him at all. “Can’t tell you how I know Himari, either. I can answer anything else, I’ll be honest with you.”

Personally, you’re not sure if you wanted to know why he married you.. or even how he knows your mother. The information could be bad, could send you into a spiral, and having all of that before your fight probably isn’t the best idea.

So you nod. Just a meek nod, no smile, no frown, not even a twitch to your eyebrows. It’s a nod, and Gojo feels a little more to ease. You’re not arguing about? Something’s definitely changed.

“Where were you?”

Your husband takes a moment to look down at the fabric of his pants before speaking up.

“My best friend died,” He answers, keeping his attention on his sweats. “I had a lead about him, not a good one, just some information I was too afraid to look into before, but after he died I supposed it was time for me to follow it.”

Best friend? Gojo Satoru had a best friend? This is news to you. You assumed he was close to everyone, and you’ve heard him refer to people as his friend but never his best friend.

“Visited his family, made plans for his body — saw some of my old friends, too.” You’ve never seen Gojo so calm and reserved. He’s clearly trying to keep himself together, not show too much of how he’s feeling. You, in a way, understand it. “He was a horrible person, but I cared for him. Trusted him.”

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you make the decision to stand up from your seat and make way to your husband. You sat next to him, keeping a comfortable distance, and whispered…

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Five words he’s heard before, but in a split decision he decides he likes it better when you say it. He likes to hear those words with your soft voice, with your unimaginable presence.

“I don’t expect you to cry, or to tell me everything that’s going on in your life. I married a very busy man — but if anything, don’t keep that stuff bottled up,” You notice Gojo has yet to look at you, and you’re okay with that, because he’s hearing you and that’s all that truly matters. “I’m one to talk, but death is a scary thing. It’s hard to lose someone like that. So talk to me whenever you want, even if it’s in a letter or if you text it.”

Those last few words pulled a chuckle from Gojo. He leans back, finally looking over to you with his piercing eyes — lips turned into a small smile. “You want me to text you even if we live in the same house?”

“Didn’t stop you before.”

It’s tolerable, you two. Little jokes, little reinsurance and even the slightest bit of communication. It’s a long way from when you first were married, and even if progress is small — it’s worth it.

“Wanna ask me anything else?”

You shake your head, much to your husbands surprise. “I’ll wait for you to explain to me… when the time is right. Why you married me, how you know my mother. I’ll wait.”

“How about you? Anything else?”

“I’ll learn it,” Satoru huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’d rather learn than to find everything out in one sitting. I don’t think my brain can handle it.”

You chuckle, shaking your head with a small smile on your face. “We’re not that bad.” Standing up from your spot, you start walking over to the kitchen.

And for the first time, Gojo feels his chest warm. The heat starts in the middle of his chest and grows out to his shoulders — heart beating softly yet he’s so warm. You laughed at him… let alone smiled? It was the prettiest thing he’s seen, the prettiest thing he’s heard.

Now all he wants to do is make you laugh and smile again, just to experience that feeling one more time.

Such a small moment ruined by the ringing of your phone. It’s sat on the table in front of Gojo, vibrating against the wood, and he’s who shares a look with you. He’s already scanned the contacts name — and when you speak of the devil, he shall appear.

“It’s your father.”

You wrinkled your forehead, furrowing your eyebrows. Your quizzed expression definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by your husband — who shares almost the same face — but you’re confused because your father never called you, personally.

This could possibly be the first time he has ever called you.

“Answer it.”

Satoru reaches forward and grabs your cellular device, sliding the button across the bottom screen before setting it on speaker. “Y/N’s phone.”

“Ah, Gojo! Nice to hear from you, son. Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s busy right now, can I take a message?”

“Busy…?” A crude laugh leaves his lips. “I thought your honeymoon was over!”

“I’ll leave it up to your imagine, Sousuke,” Gojo’s growing a bit irritated for some reason. Maybe it’s the fact he doesn’t like this man, the way he treated his own wife and daughter — or that he’s questioning the whereabouts of his wife when he hasn’t been concerned about anything in her life. “What’s going on?”

There’s silence for a second, even a bit of rustling. There’s a faint ‘c’mon dad’ in the background that catches Gojo’s attention. But nothing shocks him more than this.

“There’s a banquet tonight and Y/N needs to be there. The whole family is coming, extended and conjoined — she needs to be there tonight for… her clan.”

Gojo looks over to you, and the confused expression on your face switches into a coy smirk. You placed your hand over your mouth, stopping any laughter that threatened to bubble out. This is the first time your father has ever made you laugh.

Your husband is confused, but after a few extremely awkward seconds of silence wedge it’s way between you three, you send him a thumbs up and a quick nod.

“We’ll be there.”

There’s a breath that huffs on the other side of the phone, and Sousuke’s tone switches to a perkier one right after. “See you later, son.”

The call ends.

“Are you gonna tell me why we’re happy to see the man that almost killed you when you were born?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at Ichiji’s face once he heard Gojo’s words, replicating the :O perfectly.

“You’ll find out soon.”

And he will. Gojo enjoyed the thrill, the little secrecy between you both about this… but personally, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you — and that’s real reason he didn’t push for more information. Too busy staring at you. A beautiful spaghetti strapped gown, black, complimenting your skin and figure. You both decided on wearing black, considering this was short noticed — but you still managed to look stunning in his eyes.

Gorgeous, long hair curled and lying down your back, almost how it was for your wedding. Simple makeup, yet it sparkled — and Gojo loved when you did your makeup with sparkles. He loved your hair. He loved your frame, your attitude. He loved so much about you.

“I think we’re almost there, Gojo—”

“Satoru.” He corrects, catching your attention. Looking him right in the eyes, just how he liked it. “Call me Satoru from now on.”

As quick as you looked at him, you had to look away. Your face was burning, heat rushing from your cheeks to your ears. Knowing the type of man your husband is, you refrained from letting him see you blush for the reason you’d simply never hear the end of it.

“Whatever.” Is all you could bite back, and Gojo sat beside you with a smile, knowing the effect he had on you.

Either it was the stupid smirk he sports like an accessory, or it’s the fact his suit jacket is rested on his lap while his white, button up shirt has three buttons popped open, and his sleeves rolled up to show off the bracelet on one arm and the watch on the other. He knew his affect, he knew who he was.

He was Gojo motherfucking Satoru. Married and in love.

Assigned guards open the momentous, large doors to your family’s event room, revealing the football field sized area — with most, if not all, seats filled with people. Some you have never seen, some people you’ve been introduced to.

Your anxiety triples for some reason. The small huff that leaves your breath, wiping the sweat from your palms onto the material of your dress doesn’t go unnoticed by Gojo… because he’s had his eyes on you since you left your shared home.

He wiggles his hand to yours, intertwining your fingers together. Stunned, you turn to send him a questioning look, one he reciprocates (in a mockingly way) and leans down to your height.

“Gotta keep up our facade, don’t we?”

He’s right — as much as you hate to admit it, he’s right. It leaves you no choice but to nod, plaster a smile that’s not so fake anymore, and wrap your arm around your husbands back.

“We sure do.”

You both share a smile and walk down the steps into the room, capturing the attention from everyone surrounding you. They stand and welcome you, clapping at your arrival. Part of you asks if it’s for you — or your entirely famous husband.

And for some reason, once you’ve scanned the room and noticed half the women twirling their hair, applying more lipgloss or even trying to stand in a sexy manner, all for the attention of your husband, it grapples you some energy.

Enough energy to smile back and place your free hand on his chest, rock of a diamond glistening on your finger from the bright lights that lit the room.

Once the attention died down, everyone returned to their seats, and you and Gojo made your way over to the bar. Though they weren’t serving alcoholic drinks, the seating looked nice to you both. But before you could even get over there, you were stopped by two men.

The two men in your life aside from your husband.

“Y/N!” Sousuke claps his hands, looking down at you with a small smile — obviously forced. He’s about Gojo’s height, maybe an inch or two shorter. That doesn’t stop his from pushing his chest out, trying to match his statue. “Son.”

“Sousuke.” Gojo responds.

“I’m glad you two could join us tonight,” Sousuke takes a sip of the whiskey brown drink out of his glass, hissing at the taint taste after. “Just gotta keep you muzzled, don’t we? Don’t need you ruining another family event.”

To anyone else, these words from a father would cut their daughter in half — completely breaking them. But you’re used to it, it doesn’t personally upset you anymore, and it goes into one ear and out the other.

“I’d watch my words, Sousuke,” Your voice is a bit lower, not wanting to catch any attention around you — keeping that pretty smile on your lips. “Wouldn’t want me to leave, would you? Right? You needed me here tonight to keep up your ‘perfect father’ persona.”

Then it finally clicks. Gojo understands why you found the situation funny — a father who hates his daughter yet needs to use her to seem like he’s the best father someone could ask for. It’s a fake. He’s a phony.

Satoru thinks it’s hilarious.

Now the other man decides to speak up, taking a bold step next to his father.

“He doesn’t need you.” Ryou adds.

You yawn, fanning your eyes from tearing up, bored expression reading your face. “A bitch and his boy, tale as old as time,” You squeeze Gojo’s hand, giving him a quick look before turning your attention back to your father. “We were headed to the bar. Do me a favor — don’t ever step in my way again. You’re both critically annoying.”

Now walking around your brother, who’s fighting back the urge to grab you by your hair and stab you in your jugular, you and your husband were finally able to reach the bar.

You both take seats next to one another, and he quickly takes this opportunity to look you in the face with a smile — a proud and genuine one.

“That was… strangely attractive.”

“You think so?”

He nods, almost hypnotized in your eyes. After a moment of just gazing at one another, you roll your eyes and lean forward to tap his leg.

“Maybe I’ll call you bitch boy from now on.”

Gojo hums, taking a sip of water from his champagne glass. He sets it down next to yours. “What do you wanna eat tonight?”

It sounded so domestic of him to ask, slightly causing your eyes to widen as the sudden question. “Uh,” You pick up your glass, swirling the tap water around. “I can cook something.”

“You’re not burning my rice cooker again.”

“Well, that’s mean.”

“Thank you all for attending tonight, it was an honor and a pleasure to see so many familiar faces,” Sousuke stands at the mic, hands rested to his side. He’s wrapped in a designer suit, one that he’ll throw away right after using it because ‘real men don’t rewear clothes’. “Now that our night has come to an end, I have a special announcement to tell you all about.”

“Mark your calendars, request time off, set a reminder, and grab your popcorn — watch the Shio Clan’s Generational fight next week, here in this very room.”

The crowd gasps, all clapping their hands together to the amazing news. You, on the other hand, watched with wide eyes, catching eye contact with the man who birthed you, smile at your reaction.

Why is he telling them before you?

And so soon? The fights usually doesn’t happen until the end of the year!

You can’t possibly do anything big in a week.

Seven full days? That’s your warning time?

You’re absolutely pissed.

He laughs into the mic, raising his hands up in surrender. “I won’t hold up your time! You all get home safe — and I’ll see you here next week!”

Everyone around you begins to stand from their position, gathering their belongings to hit the road. The Shio household is located in the backroads of bumb—fuck and it’ll take anyone twenty minutes minimum to find their way out of here.

You, on the other hand, stand from the stool you were sat in, turning to go give your father a piece of mind. Maybe even kill him in front of everyone he knows and spit on his dead body. All until a gentle yet firm grip catches onto your wrist, stopping you from going anywhere.

He spins you around, forcing you to look into his vibrant blue eyes, which strangely bubbled your anger down the slightest. Just a sprinkle.

Gojo drops your wrists and raise his palms to your face, cupping your jaw gently. “He’s not worth it. Keep this anger you have, use it next week.”

“Satoru—”

“Find somewhere and bottle it up. Close the bottle and store it away. Use it at the right time,” The more he looks at you, the more you look at him, it doesn’t feel like you’re pretending anymore. You couldn’t even tell if there were people around anymore, and you didn’t care. “We can do a lot in week. And after that when you kick bitch boy’s ass.”

You chuckle.

There was that pretty sight, pretty sound. The laugh that followed your heaven sent smile. He’s so giddy he got you to do it again, he’s even smiling along with you.

Silence. It seems to be the thing between you two. A comfortable silence. Like getting into bed when it’s raining; after a warm shower; the shiver you have when you’re about to sleep. Or like trying your favorite food again for the first time in forever, reminding you of the sweet memories you had before.

You melt. Melt into his hands as he cups your cheeks, and for the first time, you take a step forward to bury your face into his chest. He moves his hands to cup your head, burying his fingers in your head of hair.

“Thank you.” You whisper. Loud enough for him to hear it, big enough so he’d never forget it.

Satoru sets his chin on your head, throwing his arms around you. “Don’t mention it.”

“If I’m sleeping in your bed again, the air has to be on,” You’re sticking the key into you and Gojo’s home, unlocking all three locks before pushing the door open. “You’re so warm, I was sweating in that bed.”

“So take your clothes off this time.” He responds nonchalantly, brushing past you to shut the door and lock it back.

You roll your eyes. “Pervert— Oh my god!” You shout, jumping in your spot.

Gojo kicks the door shut, grabbing you by the material of your dress and pulling you behind him. His infinity is switched on and he’s scanning the home for the reason you screamed.

How did anyone even get in here?

Until his eyes fell on the woman seated on your couch. The playful demeanor he sported now drops, back into the man he was whenever he was dealing with cursed spirits. Back into Gojo Satoru — not your husband or the man that was falling in love with you.

“You know who I am?”

The woman nods to his answer, she looks as petrified as you are.

“So you know I can kill you before you can blink again, right?”

She holds her hands up in surrender, shaking her head at his threat. “Please don’t… I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

Maybe you were stupid to believe her, but with a man like your husband threatening to take her life and the shakiness in her voice absolutely shattered your heart, you grabbed onto Gojo’s hand and walked forward the slightest, keeping close to him.

“Who are you?”

“I’m… Rika.”

💭: @torufilms @luckimoon  @96jnie  @clreamon @creolequeen11210 @michikoyuu @patchi-chi @chieeeeeee @shadowarchon n @willowsversion  @weebotaku21 @regalillegal @rahhhhhrs @luckimoon @chuurroo @xiaosie @gh0stwish @ayatoru @zohraaa @dazailover1900 @catoru-gojo @justwinterlights  @lightblueexorcist t  @nakachuchu @96jnie @clreamon @emissaire @vernasce-blogs @michikoyuu @oi-loverboy @holeyahsama  @vynlover27 @mnoaeiu @ginger0322 @prettyroxy @softiebadbitch @planetmarz @sugurugetosbitch @reiners-milkbiddies @bebetiny @tojisprincess @coquettemaiden @lovemarvel16 @shuxjodie @sssatorus @chosos-mascara

#jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru oneshot #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru series #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk fluff #jjk series #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk headcanons #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen series #gojo x you #jjk gojo #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen x you #akuma #gojo smut #gojo fanfic

[zairene]

SYNOPSIS: y/n is invited by the new york times magazine to introduce herself to the world of fame. it seems that audiences around the globe have been buzzing to know the scoop behind this new model that’s made a brilliant entrance into the industry.

WARNINGS: none!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: alr working on chapter one 🙇🏾‍♀️

WORD COUNT: 628

SERIES MASTERLIST + TAGLIST FORM

“YOU READY TO START, Y/N?” THE LADY HAD previously introduced herself as amelia. recently, you had gotten an email from her company giving you an offer to talk about your life story for millions. at first, you were hesitant about the idea. you had been able to maintain a private yet mysterious persona, not much was known about you but the wikipedia page that was made that’s easily accessible to anybody. you didn’t bother to try to get it taken down since the information on it was accurate and nothing too personal about your life.

nobody knew about your family life, whether or not you had siblings, or your relationship status even, and you never confirmed or denied rumors unless you had to because false things being spread about you was inevitable, and you honestly couldn’t care less. you only let the public know things you wanted them to know. although, this invasion of privacy would be good for your career, said your manager. it would let your supporters know who you are and learn they can somehow relate to you.

“yeah, i’m ready!” you said, trying to keep a smile that was so obviously forced on your face. you tried to be genuine because she wasn’t a rude woman. she was quite nice, maybe you’d invite her out for a drink or two sometime.

beforehand she gave you a brief rundown of how this was gonna go. she records your conversation, and they take everything you said and put it in a magazine. you agreed and before you knew it amelia pressed the recording button in front of you.

“so, y/n, let’s start simple, yeah? do you have any hobbies? things you like to do in your spare time?”

“well, yes. i like to sing sometimes and i’ve always been painting since i was a little girl. i’m more of a traditional painter, but i wouldn’t mind trying things out digitally.”

she shook her head and wrote some notes down, before looking back up to you with a smirk.

“singing? well, is there a possibility that you could pursue a career in singing?”

you chuckled. “maybe, but i don’t wanna set expectations too high right now. so i’ll let everyone decipher that on their own.”

“alright alright. well, it’s not a secret that your looks have caught the eyes of others. and it leaves a lot of people wondering if you would ever date a fan?”

your eyebrows furrowed. “i honestly don’t know. that’s the problem with being… famous, i guess? you never really know anyone’s true intentions with you. they could lie and say they don’t know me from anywhere but they have. and they are only trying to get with me because they see how that can be a benefit for themselves and not because they like me, for me. so, i’m not saying i wouldn’t, but i just don’t prefer it.”

she shakes her head, her lips pressing against one another. “that’s understandable. there are cruel people out there. but, on a more positive note, there’s been a buzz in the media. it’s being said that someone, i won’t name, might give you a run for your money, y/n.”

“oh, seriously?”

“seriously. he’s known for his modeling internationally. you may be running the united states, but currently he’s running the world. how do you feel about that?”

you thought for a second. running the world? now how the hell can anyone possibly do that? and how haven’t you heard of him? “well, um, i’m not sure, especially since you didn’t give me the name.” you laughed, and she followed. “but, this isn’t his territory, it’s mine. so why should i be worried? you said it yourself. i’m running the united states… right?”

🏷️ EXPOSURE TAGLIST :: @sapphicshav @goldenglow149 @pnkweb @fadingpalacebonkpsychic @laylasbunbunny @plutoruins @intheewrld @idklol237 @whats-humanity-lol @nyfwyeonjun @vaebae99 @blackunecorn @tojisrightnut @fiannee @aboutkiyoomi @4kh

-> if you weren’t able to be tagged, please let me know if you changed your url or just wanna be removed. thank you!

#[♩] irene’s works. #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen series #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x black reader #gojo satoru x black fem reader #gojo satoru series #gojo x reader #gojo x black reader #gojo x black fem reader

[boqorka]

How to Love Someone: A Comprehensive Guide

oving someone is an experience that everyone desires, but it is not always easy to navigate. The emotions, the connection, the vulnerability, and the commitment that come with loving someone can be both exhilarating and overwhelming. In this article, we will provide you with a comprehensive guide on how to love someone deeply and sustainably.

Understanding Love

To love someone, you first need to understand what love is. Love is a complex and multifaceted emotion that can be expressed in many ways. Some common expressions of love include affection, admiration, respect, trust, and empathy. Love is not only a feeling, but it is also a choice and a commitment.

Building a Strong Connection

A strong connection is the foundation of any successful relationship. To build a strong connection with your partner, you need to invest time, effort, and attention. Some ways to build a strong connection with your partner include:

Communication: Open and honest communication is crucial to building a strong connection. You need to express your thoughts, feelings, and needs clearly and listen actively to your partner.

Quality time: Spending quality time together, doing things that you both enjoy, can help strengthen your connection and create lasting memories.

Intimacy: Intimacy can be physical, emotional, or intellectual. It involves vulnerability, trust, and acceptance.

Shared values: Having shared values and goals can create a sense of purpose and meaning in your relationship.

READ MORE:

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo-satoru-x-reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader romance #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader series #gojo x reader imagines #gojo x reader scenarios #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader angst #gojo x reader angst #gojo satoru x reader romance #gojou satoru x reader romance #gojo satoru series #gojou satoru series #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen romance #jujutsu kaisen series #jujutsu kaisen x reader series #jjk #jjk x you #love #romantic

[sttoru]

thinking of dating older bf!satoru. . .and i’m talking like you’re in your early 20’s and he’s in his early 30’s.

the way he texts at the start of your blooming relationship is super attractive somehow. like the most simplest of texts would get you weak in the knees. texts like ‘good morning, sweetheart.’ // ‘how’s my pretty girl doing?’ // ‘there’s my gorgeous girl.’ // ‘rise ‘n shine, sleepyhead.’ // ‘it’s okay, baby. i understand.’ // ‘you never fail to amaze me, huh.’

or when you’re being very risky via your messenger app, older bf!satoru is definitely the type to say ‘careful.’ // ‘you’re gonna get me in trouble.’ // ‘you’re being quite brave today, doll. // ‘aww, how adorable of you.’ // ‘mhm? that so?’

also . . . gives you money out of the blue. randomly. doesn’t question it at all. or sends expensive gifts your way too without you asking. older bf!satoru would text you stuff like; ‘here’s some money, gorgeous. want you to spoil yourself for me today, okay?’ // ‘just a little gift.’ // ‘you deserve a break, baby. here you go.’ // ‘got you something small.’

and then you check your bank account and it’s an easy $200 / $500 / $800 ++ added by him. or when he’s sending gifts to your apartment, it’s gonna be one of them reaaaaal expensive ones. probably ones you eyed before or had mention you liked very briefly, but didn’t get it because of the price.

definitely also the type to try and accommodate or match his texting style to yours as the months go by. kinda to match your energy. perhaps fails horribly at it, but it’s cute to see him try.

#sttoru chats. #just wrote my thoughts down rlly quick LOL #self indulgent af but if yall want any fics w older bf!satoru let me know in my inbox teeheee might even make a series of it #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #cw age gap #cw age difference

[nanaslutt]

imma need a part three to the orange fic....it's soooooo gooooood!

the highly demanded part 3~

pt. 1 & 2

contains: fem reader, teasing, dirty talkkk, oral, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, praise, pull out method, dry humping, teasing, talk of pregnancy, gojo has a breeding kink, spanking, rough sex, dacraphillia, squirting, soft at the end :3

MDNI

"I have so much to teach you." He grinned, caressing the side of your face as you closed your eyes, and leaned your face into his hand.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“Come back here,” Gojo said, grinning when you leaned forward and allowed him to connect your lips once more, slowly slotting them against each other as he moaned at the taste of himself on your tongue.

Gojo wrapped his strong arms around your body and pulled you snugly against his chest, making your cunt sit directly against his cock as you made out with him. The man underneath you jolted in sensitivity at the unexpected warmth on his bare cock, making him twitch back to life.

“Awww,” he cooed, pulling back to look between you, “They’re kissing.” He giggled, watching your slick drip against his cunt. You bit your lip when you tipped your chin down to look at what he was referring to.

The sight was so erotic, your slick was dripping onto him, leaving a trail of your cum against his dick as you rocked back and forth on him while you made out. You pouted out your bottom lip as you kept your eyes between the two of you.

“C-can you teach me how to have sex too?” you asked, finding your voice. Gojo’s eyebrows shot up, a smirk slowly creeping on his face as an idea popped into his head. “Ohhh~ I don’t know, I’m kinda tired, I’ve already taught you enough for one day.. don’t you think?” he said dramatically, making your bottom lip pout out in disappointment.

"O-oh I just thought.." You started quietly, "You're so greedy for a newbie~" He teased, making you hide your face in his neck, while his big hand came up to caress your nape, jolting your body as he laughed, "Baby I was just kidding~ no need to get all shy on me," He cooed, sliding his large hands under your arms and making you sit up fully on his lap.

He intended to tease you for longer, but how cute you were acting combined with how fucking addicting your cunt felt pressed against his now stiff cock, prevented him from continuing his teasing. "So.. you'll show me how to have sex?" Your eyes beamed as you asked, voice full of hope.

"Of course, I could never say no to you~" The white-haired man admitted, his warm hands finding their home against your thighs once more as he rubbed soothing patterns into your skin. "But before you get ahead of yourself, I still have to teach you about the other kinds of foreplay~ can't have you getting hurt because we didn't prep your tight cunt properly." He explained, squeezing the fat of your thighs.

"Others kinds of forplay?" You asked, excited for what was to come. "Oh yeah, I still gotta show you what getting your pussy eaten feels like," He smirked, "If you want I can show you how to suck a cock too."

You swallowed hard, feeling yourself clench around nothing at the thought of Gojo performing something on you that you thought only happened in porn. "D-do you actually enjoy doing.." You gestured vaguely in front of you, referring to performing oral, "that..?" you finished meekly. "Why don't I show you how much I love it," Gojo answered, a smile spreading on his handsome face.

He gripped your hips in his large hands and raised you up, switching your spots, and placing you down on the bed so you were laying comfortably against his soft mattress. He situated himself between your thighs on his stomach and threw your legs over his shoulders. "I always hear guys complaining about this kind of thing.. are you sure you're not forcing yourself?" You asked insecurely, which made him scoff in disbelief.

"Now who's saying that? I could cum just from eating pussy alone." He exaggerated, making your worries wash away at his honest words. "Making you feel good makes me feel good." He continued, "You're a smart girl, you saw how hard I got from just fingering you, do you think my dick would lie to you? huuhh?" He questioned teasingly, making you cover his penetrating eyes with your hands as your face heated up. "O-okay you're right, it was a stupid question," you said, embarrassed.

"Mhmm," Gojo agreed, making eye contact with you once more when you dropped your hands from his face, holding them against your chest as you waited for him to do whatever he was going to do to you.

"Im gonna lick your pussy now, kay?" He said, starting to drop his head closer to your exposed core after you nodded at his words. "Good girl," He praised before you felt his teeth nip at your thigh, making you wince. He smoothed over the spot with his soft tongue, licking your skin and humming at your quiet wines.

He continued peppering teasing kisses on your inner thighs, getting closer and closer to where you needed him most before he was pulling away, dropping his attention back to your inner thighs, and leaving bite marks and little purple hickeys on your skin. "Toru.." You whimpered, not being able to take it anymore, you could feel your clit throb, and your juices drip down from your hole from the delay.

"What do you need baby?" He asked, playing coy, as he kept up his ministrations, maintaining eye contact with you with that piercing gaze of his. Was he really going to make you say it? You swallowed hard, biting and releasing your lip as you tried to muster up the courage to ask him to lick your pussy already. "Don't be embarrassed about asking for something during sex, sweet thing, how else is your partner gonna know what you want?" He smirked against your skin.

Logically you knew he was right, it made total sense, but it still didn't mean that you didn't have the right to be a little shy about it. "P-please eat me out Satoru." You mumbled, just barely loud enough for him to hear it, but boy did it ring oud and clear inside his head.

"Anything for you sweet girl," He grinned, finally giving you attention where you were craving it. He closed his eyes and flattened his tongue against your pussy as he slid the appendage across your folds slowly, back and forth. Your body curled in on itself, twitching when he made contact with you. Your body jolted harder every time his tongue slid across your sensitive bundle of nerves, applying just the right amount of pressure.

Gojo moaned at your taste and lewd reactions to his tongue. The man opened his eyes again to get a good look at you, your hands were gripping the sheets hard enough to rip at just a couple seconds of stimulation from his tongue, and your head was tipped back into the pillows, pretty mouth open in a small o shape while you squeezed your eyes shut, really feeling what he was giving you.

"If you need a place to put your hands, feel free to put them in my hair, pull as hard as you like~" He informed, giggling against your cunt when both your hands came down immediately to burry in his soft strands for support. His plush lips suckled against your clit, and he used his soft tongue to expertly dart against the little bundle to add extra stimulation. "F-fuck Satoru-" You wined at the intense feeling.

You already felt like you were going to cum from the way he was treating your pussy, "Satoru w-wait," You dug your nails against his scalp, getting a good grip on his hair before you pulled him off of you, his soaked tongue hung from his mouth, "I- I was gonna cum," You said breathlessly, trying and failing to squeeze your thighs together as they were kept apart by his shoulders.

"Ohh~ you like edging yourself? How did you know about that?" He teased, licking your juices off his lips. "Huh? Edging? No, I just.. you just started.." You blushed. "Aww, are you about to compliment my pussy eating skills? If you woulda let me finish I could've made a new record," He giggled to himself, feeling his chest swell with pride, "Under two minutes, phew!" He smirked, patting himself on the back.

"Oh my god shut up.." you rolled your eyes at the man between your legs, his silliness easing the tension in the air and giving you some confidence back, "It just felt good was all, I didn't want it to be over so soon." You explained, absentmindedly playing with his soft hair between your fingers. "Who said it has to be over when you cum once?" He asked, raising his eyebrows at you. "Ill keep fucking you with my tongue till you tell me to stop, cum as much as you'd like." He said like it was obvious, fully ready to be between your legs all day and night if that's what you wanted.

"So can I get back to eating your pussy now orrr?" He asked, poking his tongue against your inner thigh and tickling you with it. You opened your mouth to speak but opted to just give him a short nod of approval instead. He instantly jumped back into action, he snaked his thick tongue into the tight ring of your cunt, slurping up any juices he fucked his tongue in and out of you, as his slender nose rubbed at your clit deliciously.

"S-shit ngh- S-satoru-" You wined his name repeatedly, using his hair as leverage to grind your clit harder against his nose while he tongue fucked you like his life depended on it. Gojo alternated between using the appendage inside you and sucking your little clit into his mouth, occasionally pulling his lips away to spell his name against the bundle of nerves, making your body jerk underneath him.

Only another couple minutes had gone by and you were already about to tip over the edge again, "Fuck I-im gonna cum-" You warned, moaning his name repeatedly as he moaned his aproval against you, encouragement in the form of "mhmm, mhmm," could be heard from the man between your legs.

You rode your orgasm out on his tongue, bucking your hips against his nose to stimulate your clit as he licked up all the juices that squirted from your pussy. Gojo rolled his eyes when your thighs squeezed around his head. He tried his best to work you through your orgasm while your tiny hole pulsed greedily around his tongue. Your whimpers were like music to his ears and he couldn't hold himself back from humping his own hips into the mattress for some relief.

When you started coming down from your orgasm, he didn't stop his ministrations on your pussy, instead, he increased them. He brought a heavy hand up to press down on your pelvis, keeping you in place as he sucked your clit into overstimulation, "S-tor-u-" you croaked out, your voice coming out choppy at the intense stimulation you were feeling. "W-wait It- nghhhh!" You weren't able to tell him to stop.

Gojo's cock was twitching at your body's constant jerking and twitching, trying to escape the painful pleasure of his tongue. He was well aware of what he was doing to you, but the thought that you thought he didn't know he was currently overstimulating you, was driving him crazy, he had his corruption kink to blame for that.

He pulled his mouth off of you, bringing a hand down to replace his tongue as he easily slipped two fingers inside your hole at once, the slide being eased by how fucking soaked you were. Gojo started up a brutal pace as he scissored and curled his fingers inside you, "You like that? Like when I touch your fucking pussy like this?" He breathlessly spoke, groaning when you just nodded against the sheets, barely able to mutter semi-coherent words of his name and 'yesyesyes's'.

"Good, because I'm nowhere near being done," He groaned, dropping his mouth down to your cunt once more as he sucked your clit back into his mouth and massaged it with his tongue, all while his fingers still kept their bruising pace against your g-spot inside you. Gojo was feeling pussy-drunk. He thought his cock ached when he was fingering you earlier, but now it was almost unbearable. How he felt earlier was a cakewalk compared to this. He needed to be inside of you and he didn't know how much longer he could take it.

Your head jerked from side to side against the pillows, occasionally tipping forward and cracking your teary eyes open to watch him eat you out, noticing each time that he always hd his eyes on you.

When your overstimulation died down, you didn’t get so much as a moment of rest as he quickly built you up to another orgasm. His name spilled from your lips hurriedly and slightly panicked as this orgasm felt different. It felt like it was coming from lower and deeper inside you.

“S-satoru W-ait- gonna cum, nghh! f-feels weird!” you pressed your teeth together, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to overcome the intense new feeling.

Gojo spoke against your clit as he continued to curl his fingers inside your walls, “Think you’re gonna squirt honey,” he informed you, making you internally freak out.

You’ve watched porn before before, and squirting always looked so messy and intense. You were worried gojo would be grossed out by the mess. A stupid thought considering how he was currently burying his face as deep as possibly into your cunt and smearing your juices all over the bottom half of his face and your thighs alike in the process.

“Fuck! f-ffhaaah-“ you whined, digging your nails against his scalp to ground yourself as he gave the same treatment to your thighs, his fingers sure to leave bruises at his strong grip; but he wanted you to know it was okay— he was there.

Your orgasm crashed over you harder this time, your cum released out of you in spurts as you came hard on his tongue. Gojo groaned against your clit as he fucked his fingers harder in and out of your hole, trying to milk all the squirt he could from your body.

You felt like your soul had left your body, touched the heavens, then returned when you started to come down from your high. Even though Gojo had told you he wouldn’t stop until you told him to, he read the room, you might actually see heaven if he kept going.

He raised his head up from between your thighs, kissing the plush of your legs, your tummy, your breasts, as he made his way up your body, allowing your shaking legs to wrap around his hips and press his body firmly against yours.

“Good fucking girl,” he praised, pressing his soaked lips to yours as he kissed you needily, spreading your wetness on the bottom half of your face. You tasted yourself on his tongue, making you whine, you didn’t taste bad, but you preferred the taste of him better.

Although you had just squirted all over him and came twice before that, you were still needy for more. You humped against Gojo's unclothed cock, rubbing your wet slit against him, making him groan into your mouth. "Careful," He grunted between kisses, rutting his hips back against your pussy, his tip catching under the hood of your clit and making your body jerk against him.

The both of you continued to dry hump each other, moaning and breathing heavily into the other's mouth, curses spilling from your lips. There was an obscenely lewd 'schlick' sound emanating into the room from your combined wetness. Gojo bit your lip, gasping as he took ahold of your hips and helped you rock yourself against the length of his cock. This felt ten thousand times better than your hand, his eyes rolled back in his head at the thought of feeling your cunt from the inside.

"Satoru please," You begged between kisses, holding his chizzeled face between your hands, "Fuck me, please fuck me, I need it," you whined into his open mouth, hearing him moan at your words. He really wanted to fuck you but he still needed to teach you how to suck a- "Please toru' f-feel so empty please." All rational logic was thrown out of his head as you continued your shameless begging, your orgasm must've wiped away your embarrassment.

Fuck teaching you to suck dick, you would have all of the time in the world to do that later. If he didn't feel your walls squeeze around his cock this second, he was going to lose his mind. "O-okay, okay yeah, Ill fuck you baby, gonna make you feel so good." He finally spoke, giving you one final kiss before he pulled back and flipped you over so you were on your tummy, he closed your legs together and mounted his hips over your ass, so you were in the 'pronebone' position, his favortie.

This position allowed him to fuck into the g-spot with scarily accurate precision; this is the position he went to to make girls cum without clitoral stimulation. "It might hurt a little at first, I'll take it slow." He promised, really hoping he was able to fulfill his words after he felt how soft you were around his cock. "Just give it to me, please, don't care if it hurts." You wined, pressing the side of your face into the sheets as you waited to feel his cock slide inside of you.

He was trying not to take your words at their face value, he knew you were cock drunk, you were a little out of it from your orgasms, and on top of that you were a virgin, never even having cum before an hour and a half ago. Yet still a very big part of his brain was telling him to listen to you, to fuck into your cunt with reckless abandon, and absolutely abuse your pussy with his dick.

He took a deep breath, gathering himself before he slapped a heavy hand against the fat of your ass, making you squeal at the unexpected impact. "Be patient, I'll give it to you don't worry~" He grinned, giving himself a couple slow strokes and wetting his cock with the juices that you had rubbed on him earlier. "Take some deep breaths for me baby, stop me if it's too much." He said, grabbing his thick cock at the base as he started to rub it up and down through your folds, catching it on your tight little hole.

You just wined at his words, wiggling your hips back against his, "Need to hear you, baby, promise you'll stop me if it's too much." He said, truly concerned he might get carried away once his cock finally got a taste of you. "Promise, I promise I ngghhh!" Your voice got cut off as gojo started pressing his girth into your tight cunt the second he registered your words.

His jaw dropped at how tight and warm you felt, a shaky breath left his lips as he pressed his cock deeper and deeper inside you, "Ngh- fuck-" He grit his teeth when you squeezed your cunt around him, "N-need you to loosen up for me, c-can't get inside you if you tighten up like that~" He said, his fingers digging into the sheets beside your head as he tried to prevent himself from cumming before he even fucked you properly.

"Its not m-me, you're so f-fucking big," You wined, pulling your lip between your teeth and biting down hard enough to draw blood, tears forming in your eyes at how full you felt. He was stretching you more than you expected, you knew your first time would come with some pain but this was something else. Youre so glad he made you cum several times before, or you might've been at risk at splitting in half at how big his cock was.

"Fuuck," He groaned at your words, pushing himself fully inside you until he was balls deep inside you, his hips pressed snugly against your ass as you both let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "So fucking tight fuuuck~" Gojo moaned, keeping his eyes glued to where the two of you were connected as he felt your walls pulse and twitch around him, letting you adjust to his size.

"S-atoru- ha-ah," You cried, gasping as the tears finally started spilling down your cheeks. Gojo felt bad for feeling so aroused at the sight, hoping you didn't feel his cock twitch inside you. "Awww baby, you cryin'?~" He teased, leaning over your form and kissing the tears from your face, making you whimper as his cock jolted impossibly deeper inside you, kissing your g-pot. All you could do was take his teasing as you cried and whimpered into the sheets while he peppered your skin with kisses.

"Can I move or do you need some more time?" he asked after a while of keeping himself still. His cock was throbbing with need inside you, but he promised he would be careful with you, meaning he would not move until you gave him the okay. You nodded, before giving a verbal 'yes' when you remembered he asked you to do that. "Alright," He acknowledged, pressing his lips to your face one last time before he pulled back again, stabilizing himself on the bed with his hands next to your head, taking a deep breath.

"T-thank you for doing this w-with me S-satoru." You wined, making him coo as he pulled his cock out of your pussy, slowly thrusting back in and watching you squeeze your eyes shut at the intense strange feeling of something inside you, "Thank you for trusting me~" He smirked down at you.

"God, you're taking me so fucking well." He praised, shaking his head and poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he started up a steady pace with his hips.

The squelching sounds were so much louder in your ears now that he was actually inside you. “Fuck- f-fuck” all you could do was curse as his dick abused your sweet spot. Every time he pulled his hips back it felt like your guts were coming out with him, and when he fucked his cock inside you, it felt like your organs had to make room to fit him in.

“Gonna go a bit faster, kay? It’ll feel so fucking good.” he promised, pressing his hips flush against your ass as he rotated his pelvis in circles against you. You nodded your head rapidly against the sheets, wet from your tears, “ye-yes please, fuck me h-arder.” you babbled, your mind feeling completely fuzzy at this point.

“God you’re being so good for me,” he groaned, pulling his cock out of you slowly before he slammed his length back inside you all at once. He started up a brutal pace, so much rougher than his previous one. The painful pleasure was making the tears fall from you eyes in bigger droplets, as you dug your nails into the sheets and humped your ass back against him to meet his thrusts.

“Yeaaah, fuck me baby, fuck my cock-“ he moaned, his jaw dropping as he licked his lips, keeping his eyes on your tight little hole that swallowed his cock so well.

“Yesyesyes, bounce that ass on my dick, take it- yess.” his voice echoed in the room, making your cunt pulse. You started feeling a coil tighten itself in your tummy, feeling very similar to the last orgasm you had, “Toru! H-harderrrr~” you slurred, a drunken smile plastering itself on your face as his hips got rougher against yours.

“Yeah? you like that? like when I fuck your pussy like this?” He groaned, gripping his hand in your hair and pressing your face harder into the mattress. Your body bounced under the roughness of his thrusts as you babbled out “yesyesyes, love it-“ through your moans.

“Fuuuuck you gonna cum?” he asked, biting his lip when he felt you tighten up around him, a telltale sign of your orgasm, “Tryna milk my cock? huh?” Gojo smirked, the pace of his hips losing their rhythm as he was as brought closer to his own orgasm as well.

“Y-yes, w-want you to fill me uuuu-ppp~” You slurred, not thinking about the words you were saying as they spilled from your lips on instinct. “Don’t say that shit,” he warned, feeling his balls tighten as he got closer and closer to his high, “Gonna fucking knock you up if you say shit like that~” he said.

Gojo had no interest in being a father, not right now at least. But your words planted a seed in his head, a seed of your tummy round with his kid, tits heavy and full of milk and fuck- he needed to stop thinking or he really might get you pregnant.

“Yes, give it to m-meee, please, cum in-side me-“ you cried, whimpering against the sheets when you started to cum, your back arching and your cunt pulsing rhythmically around him as he fucked you though it, whistling when he felt you squirt against his pelvis, his hips fucking the stream of cum out of you.

“So fucking dirty,” he groaned, “I’ll give it to you since you want it so bad,” Gojo was thrusting erratically now, his hips completely out of pace as you laid almost limply against the sheets, squeezing your cunt around him to help him cum, ignoring your own overstimulation. “P-please," You wined his name repeatedly, feeling his cock twitch tenfold whenever you did so.

"S-shit haaah~" His moans raised in pitch, breath coming in shorter pants as he stilled against you, pressing himself as deep as he could before his senses came over him last second, he pulled his cock out, making you whine at the loss as he jerked his hand rapidly over his dick, warm spurts of his cum landed on your ass while he groaned into the air, his eyes staring at the ropes of cum that decorated your ass, the visual making his spine tingle. "Fuuuuck, yess~" He whined your name as he squeezed his tip, making sure he painted every last drop of cum over your ass.

He leaned back on his feet, tipping his head back as the both of you heaved air into your lungs, swallowing the oxygen greedily. "Ha-ah, I think I died for a second." He giggled, patting the side of your ass that wasnt stained with his cum. "W-why did you-," You began to speak, rotating your body twords him and making his cum wipe on his sheets, "Why'd you pull out?" You finished, blushing at your question.

Gojo got off of your legs, helping you turn your body around and lay your back comfortably against the sheets before he spoke, "First off, you ruined my artwork," He pouted, referring to the cum he sprayed on your ass, "Anyways.. It's not like I have anything against you~" He reassured, "I'm sure our babies would be the cutest, and I'm flattered really I just-" You cut him off by calling him his last name, "I'm on birth control.." You said like it was something he was supposed to know.

Gojo's jaw just stayed dropped, staring at you blankly, before he crawled toward you, wrapping his hands around your hips as he hovered above you, smirking mischievously, "Ohhh~ Why didn't you say so before?" He said seductively, "Let me give you a creampie then~ We have so many more positions to tryy~" He wiggled his eyebrows at you, leaning his face closer to yours but it was stopped in his tracks, as you covered his lips that intended to land on yours with your hand.

"That was amazing, honestly, but I cant feel my legs right now, and I seriously don't think I have any more orgasms left in me." You said, gulping nervously thinking about him repeating what he just did to you. You felt him pout behind your hand, revealing his plush lips once more to your eyes when you dropped your hand.

His soft hair tickled your skin as he rested his head comfortable between your breasts, his hot breath ccaressing your skin when he sighed, "Honestly.. I might be shooting blanks if we tried to go again, so the attempted creampie would be a fail right now anyways." He giggled, closing his eyes when he felt your hands in his hair.

"Really, I'm glad I came to you for this Satoru." You said, making him hum against you. "I could think if no one else i'd rather teach." He said, enjoying the way your nails raked against his scalp. The two of you entangled your limbs together, your heartbeats and breaths returning to normal after some time. "You did so fucking well, dont forget that." He said, seconds from nodding off. "Thank you Satoru." You giggled.

"I still intend to teach you how to suck my dick by the way," He mumbled against your skin, ruining the moment with his vulgar words. You just caressed your hand against his head once more, shushing him after he spoke, "Let's not talk anymore.." You sighed, smiling to yourself as you rolled your eyes, fully intending to take him up on that promise, but for now, you needed to rest.

#this series is so good #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen satoru #satoru smut #gojo satoru fic #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru #gojou satoru x you #satorugojo #gojou satoru x y/n

[chuluoyi]

✎ baby

- gojo satoru x reader

a domestic life with your husband and baby

genre: teeth-rotting fluff, sugary dump fluff, and simply pure fluffff, baby-related, mentions of pregnancy, dad!gojo

note: inspired by this fanart by Deltapork in twitter! from the moment i saw that artwork, i just can't get this out of my head😫

and this is a part of a series of gojo drabbles i’ve planned called gojo's love entries anthology -> updated masterlist here

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Watching your husband entertain your child would never fail to make you smile.

"Aw, my cute baby!" Satoru joyfully exclaimed as he and the baby, secure in his hold, emitted almost harmonious squeals of delight. Both of them practically shared the same brain cells at this point.

And it was a sight that warmed your heart so much, especially when the old Gojo Satoru was a prick who used to made little Megumi cry just for the sake of it and always said that babies and everything that came with them were a pain.

He playfully devoured your son's plump cheeks and burst into laughter, paying no attention to the curious glances he garnered from other shoppers at the supermarket.

"Satoru, hush," you chided gently as you pushed the cart, yet still smiling all the same.

"Ah, look, mama doesn't approve," he remarked to your babbling son, wearing a playful pout. At the same time, your barely seven-month baby puckered his lips too, turning him into a perfect miniature version of your mischievous husband at his best, melting your heart even further.

"It's time for his milk," you pointed out, retrieving the milk bottle. Satoru reached for it and offered it to your baby, who eagerly latched on and started drinking.

Your precious baby continued to feed on the formula, clearly relishing it. It appeared that he couldn't get enough, with the way he drank with such enthusiasm.

"He's a hungry baby... just like you," you mused.

Satoru laughed out loud once again. "Why are you comparing a baby with a grown-ass man?"

Your son was still drinking the milk and seemed like he wanted more, but you could definitely tell how content he was in that moment.

"Because it's your baby, duh. And not only he looks like you, he's also reflecting what you've been doing to me so far, it's uncanny."

"So I've turned our son into a mini-me now, have I." He regarded you with a mischievous glint in his eye. "And what have I done to you, darling? Tell me."

"...A lot of bad things."

"Heh, is that so?"

The baby then stopped drinking and seemed to want you to cuddle him, as he reached his tiny hands towards you. Satoru handed him over to you, taking the bottle away, and you gently pulled him close, cradling him against your chest.

"Yeah. Bad, bad things," you cooed to your baby, your eyes sparkling with joy. "First you seduced me, then got me pregnant. And then you forced me to go through that painful labor."

Satoru didn't miss the way the clerk eyed him after you said that. But he chuckled anyway. "Well... in the end you fell for me, and I probably seduced you a bit..."

He paid for the groceries and then the two of you walked out of the supermarket.

"But is that so bad?" He continued with a meaningful smirk. "You seemed like you love it so there's nothing to complain about."

"Hmph."

"And then I got you pregnant... well, you wanted a baby, dear, so you can't really be mad and blame just me for it all, okay?"

The fact that you were having this crack conversation at a crossroad made you struggle to stifle your laughter, to say the least.

Your son was still cuddling up to your chest and now he was looking at you with those wide, glassy blue eyes. You could tell how much he liked and needed you, as well as spending time with you, his mother.

This is your baby with the man who loves you. How could you not love him in return?

Satoru looked at his son in your arms. “Our son is the cutest, isn’t he?”

He seemed tired more than anything though, with the big yawn he just emitted.

“He is so… defenseless.”

“Well, he’s a baby,” your husband said matter-of-factly. “That’s how babies are, darling. He’s learning how to do things and completely defenseless, so he needs his parents. You and I.”

Your baby’s eyes became a little droopy. He was sleepy now, and wanted your warmth to fall asleep.

“Let’s… protect him together, yeah, Satoru?” you muttered softly as your child settled in your embrace, peaceful and content, falling asleep.

Your heartstrings were pulled when you witnessed the expression of absolute adoration on your husband's face.

“Silly. I’m the one who will protect both of you, sweetheart.”

#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 #gojo satoru x reader #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x you #gojo x reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #look i made a fluff! #oh god i almost can't stop #...i'm thinking of a series of drabbles for dad!gojo too omg #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo x you #gojo #gojo fluff #gojo satoru imagines #jjk fluff #gojo satoru fluff #satoru gojo fluff #jjk gojo #jjk gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jutusu kaisen x reader #satoru x reader

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

--

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach. 

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her. 

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?” 

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.” 

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long. 

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore. 

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you. 

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights. 

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.” 

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you. 

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give. 

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes. 

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong. 

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.” 

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth. 

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck. 

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field. 

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed. 

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead. 

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too. 

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!” 

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before. 

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck. 

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.” 

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.” 

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?” 

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess. 

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that. 

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair. 

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.” 

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.” 

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.” 

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand.  “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry. 

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—” 

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does. 

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.” 

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done. 

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you. 

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look. 

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing. 

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness. 

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing. 

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused. 

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging. 

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist. 

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.  

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along. 

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

--

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ you're all caught up!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

--

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk gojo #geto suguru #gojo satoru angst #nanami kento #choso kamo #series #yaga masamichi #alternate universe #college #college au #soccer #sports au #fraternity #sorority #tw drinking #partying #anime #romance #smut #fluff #angst #jjk smut #long fic #jjk series #ongoing series

[gabbyp09]

#oficial art #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #呪術廻戦 #懐玉・玉折 #呪術2期 #jjk season two #jjk series #jjk season 2 #jjk hidden inventory #jjk shibuya arc #hidden inventory #premature death #shibuya arc #jujutsu series #jujutsu season 2 #jjk #jujutsu #geto suguru #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #itadori yuuji #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #nobara kugisaki #shoko ieiri #haibara yu #nanami kento #yuuji itadori #渋谷事変

[saintobio]

LONG LIVE THE VILLAINESS !

amidst the tale of sweetest love and bitterest revenge, the fallen empress is cast back ten years into the past to correct her sins and avoid eternal damnation, even at the price of betraying her once husband, the very cause of her downfall.

♱ pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader

♱ genre. enemies-to-lovers, period piece, medieval au

♱ tags. ooc, regression, crown prince!gojo, noble lady!reader, politics, classism, clan wars, religion (catholicism), misogyny, violence, war, rebellion, suggestive, smut, gore, double life, explicit language, more to be added

♱ notes. this fic draws heavy inspirations from the webnovel ‘sister, i am the queen in this life’ and manhwa of the same name. it’s basically a fanfic of that series bc i am obsessed with it :’D

♱ status. on-going (slow updates)

♱ THIS SERIES WILL SERVE AS THE THE SECOND TIMELINE -> READ HERE FOR THE FIRST TIMELINE (ORIGINAL STORY) ♱

PROLOGUE.

ACT I. THE LADY

ACT II. THE CROWN PRINCE

ACT III. THE KNIGHT

ACT IV. THE STAR CROSSED LOVERS

ACT V. THE BLESSED

ACT VI. THE SIN

ACT VII. THE REVELATION

ACT VIII. THE ENEMY

ACT IX. THE LOVER

ACT X. THE EMPRESS

EPILOGUE.

PROLOGUE 

Like plunging beneath the surface of water and then, abruptly, breaking through to the air above—your body jolted as if awakening in a new world altogether. You drew in a long breath, your eyes fluttering open to reveal the ceiling, both familiar yet unfamiliar in its greeting. Swiftly, you surveyed your surroundings, noting with growing recognition the confines of your old room within the De Roma estate. The estate! 

You were not in the palace of Caelum, but in the estate of House De Roma. A surge of realization flooded through you as you dashed towards the nearest mirror, confronting your reflection with wide, startled eyes. 

No... could it be... that you have returned to your body, ten years prior?!

In the mirror, the reflection staring back at you was not that of the notorious wife of the tyrant Emperor Satoru, but of a 20-year-old maiden, the eldest daughter of Duke de Roma, with fuller cheeks and a more youthful appearance. You could not shake the feeling of disbelief, wondering if this was all just a dream, so you reached out to touch your arms and felt the flesh beneath your fingers, trying to convince yourself that this was an unexpected reality.

Oh, you were back. You found yourself returned to your former self, a decade younger, but now armed with the knowledge of your past life's actions and their consequences. Alongside this newfound understanding, the gift of clairvoyance had also been bestowed upon you.

And for what? Why had the heavens above returned you to your body? Was it for revenge, a second chance, or perhaps punishment?

Suddenly, a loud, deafening sound pierced your ears, and a blinding white light enveloped your vision. Your body became as still as a statue, and it felt as though your soul was transported to a fourth dimension where divine intervention seemed a lot more plausible to exist.

As your soul hovered in the liminal space between life and death, you found yourself standing before a figure cloaked in billowing robes, her presence commanding and her gaze piercing. This figure was Fortuna, the ancient Caelan goddess of fortune and fate, her visage austere and unforgiving.

“Are you aware of the sins that stain your soul?” 

“Have you felt the weight of your transgressions, the consequences of your actions that have wrought suffering upon your people and brought ruin to your empire?”

Her voice echoed through the realm with the divine judgment that weighed upon your conscience, while her gaze penetrated to the core of your being and demanded honesty and accountability in the face of your past misdeeds.

“Will you atone for your sins?” 

“Will you seize this opportunity for redemption, or will you squander it in self-pity and remorse?”

As you stood in the presence of the ancient goddess, grappling with the heaviness of your sins and the daunting task ahead, a brilliant light had all of a sudden illuminated the space around you. From the heart of this radiant glow emerged the figure of Archangel Raphael, his presence heralded by a chorus of angelical voices and the stirring of celestial winds.

Clad in robes that seemed to shimmer with the intensity of celestial light, Archangel Raphael's presence commanded attention, his wings unfurled behind him in a display of resolute authority. If Goddess Fortuna was intimidating, the archangel was fearsome all the more. His gaze, intense and penetrating, swept over you with a gravity that left no room for evasion or deceit.

“Empress of Caelum,” he spoke, his tone firm and unyielding, and his voice carrying a billion years of heavenly existence, “You stand accused of grievous sins, crimes that have shaken the very foundations of your empire and brought suffering upon your people.”

There was no trace of softness in Archangel Raphael's demeanor, no room for mercy in the face of wrongdoing. His presence was a testament to the uncompromising nature of divine justice, his strictness a reflection of the solemn duty entrusted to him as an Archangel of the Almighty. This, no doubt, was the face of a true and formidable executor of justice.

And you, the subject, had angered the divine beings that guarded the Caelan Empire, so much so that God himself sent the goddess of the land and one of his archangels to mitigate your rightful punishment.

“By the decree of the Almighty, you are granted a second chance to amend your sins and redeem your soul. You shall return to the mortal realm, to live your life anew and correct the sins that have stained your soul.”

“Should you fail to rectify your past transgressions, should you stray from the path of righteousness and succumb once more to the temptations of darkness, know that the consequences shall be severe and eternal.”

“For those who squander the gift of divine mercy shall be cast into the deepest depths of hell, where they shall endure a punishment of unending torment and suffering.”

In the presence of Archangel Raphael and Goddess Fortuna’s equally stern gazes, you were keenly aware of the magnitude of your transgressions and the severity of the judgment that awaited you. But even as you trembled beneath the weight of their scrutiny, you knew that their presence also offered you the opportunity for redemption, with your only task to prove yourself worthy of divine mercy.

Indeed, it was by your very hands that hundreds and thousands of Christian souls shed their blood. Innocent lives, both young and old, were cruelly taken at your command. The citizens of Caelum who fell sick from the spread of the plague. The esteemed Caelan advisors of your husband’s primogenitors, skinned alive and speared in pikes by the Tiber River. The wrongly accused maid who suffered the indignity of serving your husband, paraded unclothed through the streets and subjected to the brutality of the pear of anguish. The gallant and dignified knight, tortured mentally and physically in the atrocious dungeon. Now, you find yourself thrust back into the horrors of your former life ten years hence. A life of a noble lady who ought not to be blinded by her destructive love for the empire’s crown prince. 

Yet, could you truly navigate this life without ascending to the position as his empress?

As you tried to commune with the divine beings afore you, a haze in your vision transported you away from the heavenly space, realizing that you were already drawn back into the reality of your chamber, inhabiting the youthful frame of a twenty-year-old daughter of a duke. You found yourself too astonished to move, too shaken to speak, and too afraid to take any action in this new lease of life blessed upon you. At that very moment, your state of reverie was disrupted at the arrival of your maid, who entered your chamber in a humble servant garb.

Milena. The maid whose life was cut short by your hand in your past existence due to petty thievery. “My lady,” she spoke with a hint of respect and urgency, unaware of the ill-fate you had given her in your past life, “A visitor has arrived at the gates and requests an audience with you. Shall I show them in?” 

Too soon? Need it truly be so soon to engage with the people from your past life immediately after awakening to your old, yet younger body? Gazing upon your maid through the mirror, you asked, “Who is that intruder you speak of?” 

She bowed her head, her stance shifting into one of apologetic deference. The way she firmly stood by your door was a message to you that the intruder was not someone you could easily reject the presence of.

“The visitor is His Highness, Crown Prince Satoru.” 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

#series: lltv #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk royal au #slow updates bc sy is prio #i will not write this in archaic english anymore ITS HARD AF #but i had to put this out there so i can remind myself to write it *sobs* #might just write this on the side

[planetnini]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* BEWITCHED

you seem to be in quite the predicament when you catch feelings for your roommate especially since you just broke things off with your ex. things might take a turn for the better if you play your cards just right, but love isn't easy…

type. multi-part series pairing. gojo satoru x fem!reader tags. roommates au, slowburn, eventual explicit content, swearing, violence, drinking/alcohol consumption, crying….. a named jerk ex boyfriend (hiroto), suguru n ieiri are the cutest friends ever (wingmen), other jjk characters will make appearances, adding specific tags for the chapters!!

— updates when i feel like it

CHAPTERS. ･ﾟ: *

one — maybe i could fix him?

two — newsflash!

three — fairplay

reblogs and comments appreciated !!! if you wanna be tagged in the chapters let me know :)

© PLANETNINI 2023 - please do not repost, copy or edit my stuff.

#yours truly nini #n: bewitched #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru series #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen fics #jujutsu kaisen x reader #shoko ieiri #nanami kento #geto suguru #haibara yu #naoya zenin

[ryujnn]

⊳ akuma ﾟ｡ ⋆ three clicks and i’m home. (05)

⊳ chapter summary ﾟ｡ ⋆ it took your anxious mind and sixty one days to realize that you were falling in love with the most secretive man in the world.

⊳ chapter warnings ﾟ｡ ⋆ sexual tension between gojo and the reader. finally some comfort followed after the angst. mentions of sukuna. not many warnings, good buildup to the next chapter.

⊳ note akuma return? i wanted to change the format as well, i hope you all enjoy this chapter! i tried to make it nice and long as an apology for being gone 4 so long!! ^^ don’t be shy to ask questions, etc. in my inbox!

tag list. visual + character board. prev. next.

Two months.

Nine weeks.

Sixty—one days,

And one thousand, four hundred and sixty hours.

That’s how long it’s been since your mother had been laid to rest.

It’s also the last time you’ve seen your husband.

What a drastic change from seeing him every day, bumping into him on the way to the lake outside his home — and even running into him the kitchen.

Truthfully, when Gojo never returned home, you didn’t expect to be so… frantic.

“Kazuha,” You brush your hair from your face, controlling your breathing from the running you’d been doing. After rushing around the house in attempt to find your missing husband, you’ve resorted to asking the cleaning ladies. “Hi. Have you seen Gojo, ma’am?”

She shakes her head, pulling her grey eyebrows together. “I have not. Is he missing? I can call the people—”

“No, no, that’s alright,” You forced a reinsuring smile, wiping the sweat from your palms onto your jeans. “Thank you, anyway.”

Once you noticed the lack of absence from your husband, everyone started to catch on. People at work whispering and gossiping about the apparent disappearance of Gojo and what he could be possibly doing.

And when everyone began to question you where Gojo Satoru had disappeared to, you always responded the same way.

“He’s out doing what he does best.”

You couldn’t tell them that your marriage was all planned, for reasons you aren’t aware of, and that he hasn’t communicated where he’d be going this entire time.

For a while, you convinced yourself that if anything did happen to the world’s most powerful jujutsu sorcerer, you’d find out about it. It would be reported and you’d be alerted about it.

But that only fueled your heart to start cracking and dropping every time your phone rang.

You opened the door to Gojo’s room, revealing the poorly made up bed that hasn’t been touched in weeks. Eyeing the bowl of candy set on his nightstand, and soaking up the rest of the sweet scent that seems to follow him out of this room.

Resting against the threshold, you had your arms crossed over your chest, secretly praying that he’d walk out of his bathroom and reveal his tall, worthy frame and tease you about barging in and not knocking.

You’d do anything to have another argument, another bicker. To hold his hand as you both walked into the school, fueling the narrative you both had. Hell, you’d even opt for another bar rescue. Where was he?

Where is your husband?

“Maki, gun. Inumaki, spear. Panda, dagger. Megumi, nunchucks.” You set your clipboard down, resting against the table behind you afterwards. “There’s water in the gun, the blades are significantly dull and the nunchucks are padded.”

“Fight.”

As the students begin to duke it out for another assessment test with a newer student added to the bunch, you rested against the surface and checked your phone once more.

Nothing.

Pathetically, you pulled up your messages with Gojo and still found absolutely nothing. Just a few messages you’d sent over the past two months.

‘There’s a package for you.’

‘My father wants to know if you have our marriage certificate hung up in the house.’

‘Another package.’

‘Mail is on the counter.’

Each one of these texts were all lies, but all you hoped for was a response. Even it was an emoji or a message you thought was passive aggressive because you cannot decipher tone through text.

Shutting your phone back off, you slipped it back into your back pocket and returned your attention to the students in front of you.

“Ms. Shio!” A man paces towards you, envelope in hand.

Each step he took towards you, your heart dropped farther and farther out of your chest and onto the ground.

How are you going to react? What if this man is relying the message that your husband had been killed? What do you say? Do you cry? Do you—

“Ms Shio, here you are.” Ruffled black hair, panting out of breath, this man looked more distressed than you were.

He bows, offering the envelope above his head.

After accepting the envelope, you tore through it until you had the paper in hand.

Who mailed death papers anymore?

Scanning each letter caused your hands to warm and sweat.. and sweat.. until there was any need to. This letter wasn’t about your husband’s death — not even about your husband, but simply a task for one of your students.

You felt utterly silly assuming this was the worst. Not the best letter, especially for your student, but it wasn’t what you were expecting.

“Alright, thank you.”

“Megumi!” You yelled, halting the fight. All of the students paused, gladly taking the time to catch their breath and fan themselves of Japan’s heat. “Come here, please. The rest of you can continue.”

Megumi dropped his tools and jogged over to you, keeping a neutral and stoic expression on his face, one he’d normally have. He was new, different. Apparently he had a good word and a great family name behind his back.

“Yes, Shio—Sensei?”

You turned the letter towards your student, swapping it with him before pushing up from the table. “You have a task. Stevenson’s hut has one of Ryomen Sukuna’s fingers located there, and your job is to find it and bring it back here. Can you do that?”

The boy seems to light up slightly, excited to be given his first task. There’s no smile, not even a hint of one, but the way his eyes widen and he nods before you could even finish your questions shows his spirit.

You found it adorable.

“Great. Call me if anything happens, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

That didn’t take long.

“Run it past me one more time, Megumi,” Your hands are gripping the steering wheel with all your might, breaking all kinds of laws while trying to make it to your student. “Couldn’t find the finger, encountered a curse and now someone… ate it?”

“Yeah! And he’s not dead! His body took it.. he’s got all these marks on him and now— Stop looking in your pants, please!”

You were utterly confused, but luckily, you were near the area they were at. Even pulling over near the building, the cursed energy was forcing itself into your car, nearly suffocating you.

The past two months have changed you. You’ve learned more, to be more skilled, how to identify a cursed object by smell, taste and touch — you’ve even learned yourself a few new tricks you have up your sleeve.

“I’m coming up, Megumi.”

Your phone keeps its position in your car, and as you walk up the steps to the roof of the building, you reach your hand out in front of you to emit an oval — shaped black hole, revealing the orange handled katana. Your katana.

Snagging it and shutting the hole off, you tucked the weapon onto your belt, in it’s designated spot. Your boots kick the gravel on the ground as you approached the two kids idling in the middle of the roof.

“What the hell is going on?”

“I got this!” Megumi yells, crouching down and slapping his hands together. “Under Jujutsu regulations, Itadori Yuji, I will exorcise you as a curse!”

“No!” You run forward, next to your students within seconds and grabbing his shoulder. “Not yet.”

The boy with the pink hair in front of you both raised his hands to his head, surrendering. “Yeah! Seriously, It’s me! Let’s just go to a hospital.”

Both you and Megumi both contemplated on your lives. Maybe this was the ‘Itadori’ and he wasn’t affected by the curse right now. Or maybe it was… and this thousand year old curse is playing one of his old tricks to kill two sorcerers.

It was a gamble.

“What’s the situation?”

Chills. Immediate chills ran down your spine. Even if that voice didn’t appear, that whiny yet authoritative voice didn’t sing like a song into your ears, the presence alone would’ve done it.

The familiar feeling that everything would be okay.

“Gojo—sensei, what are you doing here?” Megumi asked.

“Hey.” Gojo raised his hand, smile peering down to his student. “I wasn’t planning on coming, but man, you’re roughed up. I should show the second—years.”

And there he is. The playful, funny, energetic man that only acts like this around his students. Snapping photos with an obnoxious flash on to annoy Megumi, but only in good spirits.

Until he raised his eyes onto you.

“Hi, wifey.”

The blank stare told him all he needed to know. Of course you were upset, you had all right to be, but it was difficult reading you. That stare could mean anything — that you didn’t care, that you were sad or angry, maybe even thrilled to see him.

But all he saw was a blank stare.

To you, the rest was a blur. Discussing how Itadori swallowed the finger and now he was combined with the most hated curse. Gojo attempting to beat the curse out of him, though it simply does not work and he opts for passing the kid out.

He’s ordered Megumi to take his unconscious body downstairs to Ichiji as he runs after you, who’s rushing down the steps and praying to get to your car before he musters up the energy to speak.

Even after you’ve returned your katana to it’s infinite home and tugged your keys from your back pocket, he stalks behind you. You’re not aware of the motive, but once you’ve unlocked your car door, he slips in, giving you no choice to go home alone.

And you suppose you’re should suck this in. You were just praying for him to come home, to fight with to, to tease you and move your stuff around the home to piss you off.

But he’s okay. He’s got his cellphone. Not a scratch on that pretty, porcelain skin — and he’s in a chipper mood.

Two months.

Nine weeks.

Sixty two fucking days.

And one thousand, four hundred and sixty hours.

That’s how long it’s been since your mother was laid to rest,

and that’s the last time you saw your husband.

“Y/N.”

The thick heel of your boots connected with the birch wood flooring, keeping your hands to your side, fists balled, counting the seconds until you’re in your room so you could punch something in peace.

“Stop walking, please.”

But you couldn’t get there fast enough. It was like you were walking in slow motion, or like a song’s on repeat that you absolutely hated. You were irritated and furious, all to the point where even breathing too hard was pissing you off.

“Y/N—” Gojo’s long arm extended in front of himself, grabbing at your wrist and spinning you around to face him. He uses his other hand to capture your other wrist, keeping you steady in front of him. “Can you stop walking away from me?”

“Where were you?”

That small crack in your voice, the octave dropping a pitch lower, and the fact you had your head down, refusing to look up at him told him everything he needed to know.

“Don’t cry,” He drops your hands and switches to cup your face, tucking those pesky strands of hair from your eyes. “I never wanted to make you cry.”

You raise your head to your husband, puffy red eyes looking up into his. He could point of some definite differences within the past two months, but the bags under your eyes made him tense up in his spot.

Was this because of him?

“Why won’t you talk to me?” You ask, keeping a crucial eye on your husband. Your soft cries and little hiccups between your words would normally make Satoru ‘aww’ and tease you, but he realizes that he hates it. And for some reason, the pain you’re feeling is now his, too.

“Y/N…”

“I’ve been… trying to do everything right. I try to look nice, try not to c…complain and do everything like you wanted,” Your chest is stuttering up, trying to catch your breath as you spoke and fought back tears. “All I want is… answers. Tell me why you married me, where you went, how you knew my mother… and… and who’s Suguru Geto? Why won’t you tell me any of that?!”

“I know.”

“You’re an asshole. I’ve been searching for those answers while you were off doing god knows what because you won’t tell me!”

“I know.”

“And you scared me. I looked like an awful wife not knowing where her husband was. Is that what you want? To humiliate me?”

“Of course not.”

“Okay then talk to me!”

“I’m sorry,” He lowers to his knees, resting on his legs as your followed suit. He wraps his long arms around you and tugs you into his chest. Your head rests against his chest, thumbs caressing your skin. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Stop cryin’.”

You were too emotional to realize the sudden changes between you both. He’s touching you, dropping all infinity and calling you the sweetest of names. Cuddling you between his legs, pressing gentle kisses to your head.

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

Gojo felt the smallest nod on his chest, and it’s all he needed to end the night. He’s thankful he’s home, he knows you are two — and he knows it’s time for him to give you the answers you wanted.

Or at least some of them.

Holding you close to his chest, shushing you and rocking you side to side like a baby. After you’ve cried yourself to sleep, still sniffling and curled into a fetal position; he lifts you into his arms like a princess and carries your into his bedroom.

Two months.

Nine weeks.

Sixty two days,

And one thousand, four hundred and sixty hours.

That’s how long it’s been since your mother has been laid to rest,

and how long it’s been since you realized that you were falling in love with Satoru Gojo.

Gojo stretches his long legs and long arms, hearing a few pops here and there from his bones and wakes him up nice and steady this morning. He’s missed his bed, most importantly, he missed having days off.

He looks over to the side of his bed, seeing his duvet pulled back and your body missing. For a second, he panics — but he smells the vanilla scent coming from the kitchen, and the familiar ding to your coffee pot. You’re safe.

The strongest sorcerer slips out of bed, bare feet sliding against the glossy wood of his floor and makes his way into the living room, ruffling his white hair between his fingers.

“Good morning.”

You don’t turn around once you’re greeted by your husbands voice, not until you’ve stirred your hot beverage with a straw, tasted it from the metal and tossed it into your sink when you were done.

Now facing the man you were convinced you hated, you keep your hands warm with your cup and the fluffy cardigan hugging your arms. Under that was some silky shorts and a matching bra you bought a month ago — happily wearing around the house you lived alone in.

If that wasn’t distracting enough, Satoru opted to leave his shirt thrown on the side of his bed, only approaching the kitchen with a pair on black sweats that hung by his hips. You’ve always assumed Gojo was build pretty fair. Wasn’t too alarming big like a gym head, but he was definitely carrying a good amount of muscle. It complimented his waist, his shoulders, just him.

“Mornin’.”

The air was thick. You totally ignored your husband sucking your image in because you were too busy looking at his. To Gojo, you’ve definitely changed over the last few weeks. Your hair looks healthier, you’re now allowing it down whenever you’re not working. The training payed its due with your body, your thighs growing thicker and your body’s more toned.

He’s wanting to pull those skimpy shorts down and keep his head between your legs for however long he can. Maybe leave a few marks on your skin to remind you just how sorry he was.

But he knows he’s been a bad boy, and now it’s time for him to tell you what you wanna hear.

“Ready to talk?” Gojo asks, raising an eyebrow at you. He knows you are — he just can’t help being a piece of shit sometimes.

You nod, “Yeah.” Following behind your husband, taking a gamble on which seat you’ll take for this interesting conversation.

Once you both were seated across from one another, Satoru leans back and props his foot up on his knee. “You first,” He’s crossing his arms now. “What is your clan?”

©️ RYUJNN: 03/27/2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. do not translate, plagiarize or remake any of my work! reposting my work is allowed — likes, reblogs & comments are appreciated.

💭: @torufilms @luckimoon @itxtoyll @96jnie @goldfishesarecute @clreamon @creolequeen11210 @michikoyuu @patchi-chi @chieeeeeee @parkchanyeol-kr @shadowarchon n @willowsversion @whoreforfictionalmen18 @weebotaku21 @regalillegal @rahhhhhrs @luckimoon @chuurroo @xiaosie @nonoiix @gh0stwish @ayatoru @zohraaa @dazailover1900 0 @tookiostqr @catoru-gojo @justwinterlights @kash2 @lightblueexorcist t @tuzuis4thwife @nakachuchu @96jnie @clreamon @emissaire @vernasce-blogs @tsukifv @michikoyuu @oi-loverboy @holeyahsama @sanzuandmikey @vynlover27 @mnoaeiu @ginger0322 @prettyroxy @softiebadbitch @planetmarz @sugurugetosbitch @immikasasgf @reiners-milkbiddies @bebetiny @tojisprincess @coquettemaiden @lovemarvel16 @purpleguk @shima707 @shuxjodie

#gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo saturo #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru oneshot #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru series #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo series #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk headcanons #jjk x reader #jjk series #jjk fluff #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen series #jujutsu kaisen imagines

[zairene]

SYNOPSIS: Y/N L/N IS A FAMOUS model widely recognized for being in magazines such as vogue and elle. when her career seems to be blossoming into something she’s never imagined, japan’s most famous model, gojo satoru, moves to america and all hell breaks loose.

PAIRING: model! gojo satoru x model! black fem reader

WARNINGS: lowercase intended + heavy cursing, like a lot, aave usage, n word usage, slow burn-ish, strangers to work rivals to lovers, fluff and angst. (most likely will be SFW all the way through, but if it has suggestive content, it’ll be mentioned in the chapter warnings!)

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌

🏷️ JUJUTSU KAISEN TAGLIST :: @mypimpademia @megurulvr @chinieh @jogeto @laylasbunbunny @jamies-cumslut @sapphicshav @edgyficuselastica @goldenglow149 @s-surreality @fiannee

✘ TABLE OF CONTENTS

PROLOGUE: SO WHAT’S THE SITCH?

CHAPTER ONE: N/A

CHAPTER TWO: N/A

CHAPTER THREE: N/A

author’s note: i have such a huge headache like no joke. anyways lolll! make sure to sign the taglist form if you wanna be notified of new chapters <3

#[♩] irene’s works. #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen series #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x black reader #gojo satoru x black fem reader #gojo satoru series #gojo x reader #gojo x black reader #gojo x black fem reader

[driaswrld]

🪷 — A ROYAL AFFAIR . . . THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT

LADY DRIA WRITES . . . ˚ ༘ *

🪷 dearest gentle reader, what is a princess to do when she's caught between two dashing princes, both of which are her childhood friends? — one her betrothed and the other her past love... 4.7k words.

🪷 prince gojo x reader x prince geto jjk regency/royal au, use of regency era terminology, longing and more longing.

🪷 taglist : (lmk if you want to be added or removed!) @angelshimaa @yunymphs @todorokies @satocidal @maeby-cursed @rinniessance @cinnabooonn @shegetsburned @starry-grace2 @selfishdoll @shuuennovirche @wishmemel @riaki @yazzzmints @aphroditisxc @gojorbit @izakyun @satoruoo @irisxyphium @zwtari @/lollipop974 @r0ckst4rjk @softgirlgonehaywire @lilvampirina @brianmaysclog

CHAPTER ONE. . . ˚ ༘ *

L'INCOMPARABLE.

Talks of betrothal began in the last Spring of your youth.

Under the cherry blossom trees, you sit in silence, fuchsia petals decorating the length of your hair in messy scatters.

Satoru Gojo, crowned prince and heir to the Gojo throne, picks the fallen remnants of flowers from your hair one by one as the nobles watch on.

Whispers of ‘they would make such a beautiful match’ and ‘look how the Prince dotes on her’ echo in the brush of the gardens, women whispering among themselves and the men chortling between swings of their mallets — in a near deathly game of pall mall.

“Don’t hide from me,” Satoru dips his head, breath fanning the shell of your ear. If possible, the whispers intensify, cutting past your ears and you bite back a giggle, stifling down the thought that crosses your mind, attention whore.

“I’m not hiding, your highness.” You counter, shifting to the side, your smile hidden behind a porcelain teacup, swift sips of ginger warming your cheeks.

“It’s improper, you know.” The words linger in the air between soft wisps of wind, flurries of foreign fabrics and bright layers of skirts pass your vision — and yet, all is drowned out by him.

Your anointed Prince, the attention whore.

“Improper to gaze upon my companion?” Satoru scoffs, grinning wide, toothy, dimples.

Childhood found you both tethered like bee and nectar, always close, always coming back.

At first, it was through duty, sharp tongued ten year old Satoru Gojo, a prince born with a halo and the title of the realm’s strongest to his name, meeting you, the humble princess of the Western kingdom, born in valor and sprouted in pride, a warrior’s code.

It was a disastrous first few encounters—

(—but then he was your bestfriend, and you his. )

His dear mother, bless her soul, had taken the time out to host this marvelous garden party to welcome the newest maidens into their debuts – moreso, to marry Satoru off quicker than he could leave for another battle, chasing another war – and yet, he cared not to meet with any of the women or entertain them beyond an inch of his being.

Not around you, at least.

“You shouldn’t jest about these things—!” A snort leaves your mouth, and whereas the ever uppity ladies of the palace court gawk at you in utter disbelief and mild disgust, Satoru finds himself bellowing a boyish laugh.

That was the last time he’d laugh like that with you, before a warm spring of youth turned to a burning summer, hot with passion, scorched with lust.

THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT.

Dearest gentle reader,

As all royal scandals do,

It started with an invitation.

We cordially invite you to the Gojo palace grounds to celebrate the betrothal of our crowned prince Satoru Gojo and his bride to be [name] [name].

This author finds herself compelled and rather . . . intrigued.

What a match made in heaven! Our beloved Prince Satoru and his most dearest childhood friend!

Your fingers tremble at your sides, the aura that is the strongest permeates your very being. The soft hum of piano keys coupled with string and bow becomes near inaudible – the power Satoru Gojo has on you is like a moth to a flame, lamb to slaughter.

But I assure you,

When it comes to matters of the heart —

Carefully, your feet carry you across the crowded ballroom, mass of bodies parting the instant they catch a glimpse of your eyes – that desperation is familiar in young women like you – and they pity you.

You, who should be above them, who should be the next Queen, the current Princess consort to be.

And yet.

“I’ve told you endlessly, I will take no wife!” Satoru’s voice is a staccato, bouncing off the walls of the vacant corridor adjacent to the ballroom, echoing past your ears.

Dare I say, our beloved crowned Prince

Is not the strongest.

“Some nerve you have, boy.”

Satoru’s father, the King, is a stoic man.

You’ve come to know this well in your youth. He rules firm and his word remains law. By no means is he the strongest or possesses any more battle capacity than that of any other noble, but he remains a political stronghold.

And his grip over his family — his subjects, remains unwavering.

“I don’t care for your affairs or your crown,” Satoru’s gaze remains hard, even as he meets his father’s ire in tow, and in such a barely secluded place too. “Let one of your bastards have it, my place is on the battlefield doing what you are too cowardly to.”

Your mind runs rampant, palms pressed against the cold wall concealing your presence.

You wonder what Satoru might be thinking — if he’d be so foolish as to forsake his lineage and do away with his duty, if he’d give up simply because his fate was not his choice — he wouldn’t.

No, Satoru is good and kind, and he would see this kingdom to a new realm of peace just with his bare hands alone.

“And that is all? You wish to do away with it simply because it does not suit your childish desires? I have given you everything! And the one thing I ask of you—”

You still yourself at the near animalistic growl that leaves Satoru’s lips.

“She will never be Queen.”

It cuts through you like blades of grass, familiar, scratching at your skin softly, pinpricks of green drawing blood from your calves.

It reminds you of when you were younger, more naive and susceptible to the follies of men and matters of the heart.

“Who’ll marry you if you spend your days swinging a sword and broadening your shoulders?”

“Aren’t there girls your age you can follow around? I don’t care if you’re a princess, we’re not friends.”

“I don’t know why you’d believe he’d ever want to court you.”

Three months, thirteen days.

Your betrothal has long exceeded and broken the record of engagement wait time.

Most women would be married within the same month of betrothal, the longest and most respectable wait time being a month and a half, only due to cases of overdue dowry payments.

Three million dollars was your reverse dowry.

Paid directly from the royal treasury to your father, and four million dollars paid in return. That was how much yours and Satoru’s hands were worth to your families, a testament to the weight you’d both bear by wearing a crown.

Except, you hadn’t been crowned yet. Or married for that matter.

“—summer solstice hunt!” It’s Yuji who exclaims, voice filled with childlike wonder. Recently knighted by Satoru himself and a renowned protege of the Kingsguard, the boy is eager to please. “Who will you cast your bets on, your grace?”

The confines of Satoru’s private study function as a meeting room for idle chatting — he leaves the letters to his advisors when they are of little importance.

Or discards them entirely when he has company, like now.

You sink deeper into the cushioned seat, Satoru’s arm draped over the back of your chair. A tuft of snowy hair falls over his forehead and he breathes a chuckle, your weight curling in on itself with every rise and fall of his chest.

why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don't you want me

“It’s out of question to bet on one’s self, no?” Satoru chuckles and it earns a cackle from Yuji, who, despite himself, has already casted his own bet on his annointed Prince. “I wouldn’t want to make anyone’s head bigger than it ought to be.”

The summer and winter solstice brings with it two separate ceremonial festivals — the hunt being the most anticipated due to its cutthroat competition among nobles and peasants alike.

That, and the prize.

The winner of the hunt, the man or woman to capture the famed primordial stag — which is really a regular stag trained and bred to elude even the most skilled knights — would be rewarded a grand jewel from the Queen’s vault.

Gentle reader,

The famed jewel for the taking

This summer, is none other than—

“I’ve placed my bet on you,” you comment plainly with a shrug and Yuji beams.

It isn’t unlike you to root for one of Satoru’s proteges, the ones fairly skilled and new to knighthood – you’ve always found yourself cheering for the peonies in a garden full of roses — the underdogs full of potential . . .

Satoru glances over to you, and for a second you miss how his gaze lingers.

“You’re too kind, Princess…” Yuji sighs, near dreamily. “I will no doubt do well now that I have your favor on my side.”

( losing dogs, satoru wants to say. all you ever do is bet on losing dogs. )

“You have her bet, not her favor.” Satoru scoffs dramatically before you can even think to lend Yuji your well wishes. “It isn’t something given, it’s something won. And from a maiden, not a Princess consort.”

She’s spoken for, is all you hear though.

There’s an air of uncertainty that passes between you and Satoru that only thickens with your closeness.

A pale palm curls around the cross rail of the back of your chair and you lean into his touch subconsciously – it’s warm, secure – he’s saying, I have your favor, don’t I? Tell me I do.

—The champion’s jewel,

A wraith necklace fit for a Queen.

The L’Incomparable.

“Nevertheless, you have my good faith.” You interject, followed by a sharp inhale, and you stand abruptly from your seat. Satoru’s hand falls to his side. He knows what you're thinking.

Three months, thirteen days.

You’ve sat by and watched Satoru deny you marriage – his excuse, that he’s waiting for his coronation first – you’ve watched him continue to entertain the women around him like he’s done since he was merely a squire, plastering a smile on his face from this glass castle he calls home.

He’s close, but never too close. Stringing you on then letting you loose— it’s routine.

It’s eerily similar to your childhood.

“Yuji,” Satoru speaks, soft yet firm. The young boy is on his feet immediately and offers a swift bow to his majesty, handing his service in tow to the call. “Leave us.” Satoru commands, and just as swiftly as he came, Yuji is bowing to you and exiting through the study doors.

L’Incomparable.

The largest internally flawless diamond in the kingdom and the most expensive chain sitting in the Queen’s vault currently, worth eight billion dollars alone.

Allegedly, it was handcrafted as a gift from an ancient Gojo king to his mistress — whom he had knighted and sent off to fight in the war at her wishes once their affair had been brought to light and scrutinized.

A gift he only got to place on her corpse.

Even in death, he loved her. More than he loved his own wife and Queen.

And though many attempts had been made to destroy the necklace, it remains near indestructible.

“Something troubles you.” Satoru murmurs the moment the door clicks shut. His gaze remains strained forward on your form, from where you fiddle with the frayed hem of your gown, back turned to him.

“I simply think of the prospects of the hunt,” you retort. “There are many promising young competitors traveling to partake— I fear my Prince would simply be. . . thwarted, is all.”

L’Incomparable is not a jewel of love.

It's a sickening story of a woman who loved a man who could not love her back in the way she deserved.

A woman who took what she was given, secret meetings, hushed whispers and fleeting gazes.

And when he did, finally love her back wholly and ardently, unable to bury it behind a locked door in the dungeon he called a heart — she was already gone.

“You doubt me?” Satoru’s voice is closer now, and you wonder when he even stood up – if he'd been taking small steps toward you the entire time.

“No.” It leaves your mouth like a prayer, an oath, worship. Every ounce of confidence you have is in him. He has protected you, kept you, safeguarded your sanity and treated you with grace— “Never that.”

( —he is your friend. nothing more than that. )

He exhales, and you hear the faint sound of a swallow, the click of his tongue. Your ear feels hot with the proximity, yet, he inches closer still.

“Will you give this to me, then?” He whispers, faint, uncertain — almost desperate.

And you turn, faces inches apart, breath mingling. “What is it you wish of me, my Prince?” Your pupils dilate.

“Your Prince,” Satoru repeats, like it knocked the wind out of him. It's a common way to address the monarch, you’ve said it before as have others. “. . . asks for your favor in the upcoming hunt.”

He keeps his hands folded behind him, curled into fists and trembling. Your Prince. Yours. Yours.

He’s a gentleman. He was raised right.

This urge—

( you’re his friend. his advisor. his confidant. this is not what he wants. )

The urge to strip you down to nothing but your chemise, lay you on his desk and hike your legs over his hips, show you things you’ve only seen in dreams or read in books — like he’s done to so many women before — he promises himself he’s not a rake, he’s just a man, but when you look at him like that and say his title so softly—

( it will pass. )

“Then,” your breath slows as he steps forward, so easily leaving you pressed back against the hardwood desk, caged by him. “I will grant my Prince my favor.”

Satoru watches in earnest, places his hands on either side of you on the desk as you remove one of your gloves.

Pure white, pearl decor, lace trim.

He would've laughed if he wasn't so enthralled by such a simple thing. Satoru wants to pull the other glove off with his teeth.

“I’ll return it to you,” he says, a promise. He takes the glove as you hand it to him, leaning forward and chasing the remnants of your fingertips against his once you pull away. “When I win.”

( and maybe then, you’ll understand i am devoted to you, wholly and utterly, if only in these moments and never again. )

There's a knock at the door, brief and soft. A maid, come to drop off another stack of letters.

And just as quickly as Satoru had found himself against you, he’s across the room, opening the door.

As if you had never been there.

The only evidence that he had even touched you is the lace cupped in his palm, middle and index tracing over a minute pearl.

L’Incomparable is a jewel of longing.

Morrow brings with it the beginning of joyous festivities.

You woke to another trousseau. This time, from a distant cousin in the Easternmost kingdom.

Attached was a letter of the newest development in her love life – said development being a defected knight nonetheless.

It made you giggle.

The palace corridors are bustling with life.

Servants and attendants eager to welcome early visitors who have come for the summer solstice, robust back and forth on decorations and food and gossip and many a’ things outside the realm of possibility to be discussed in one sitting.

Your lady in waiting, Areta, whom you’ve known since your youth, creeps into your room with a grin as wide as a war banner – you immediately assume the worst, mischief is your pastime but you fear the poor girl takes ‘eavesdropping on court gossip’ to another level.

“My lady, you would not believe—” Areta huffs, journeying to sit with you on the balcony, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from her brow. “The things I’ve heard today!”

“You hear things everyday, I fear.” You indulge her, as always. And she begins to talk your ear off, all in good faith of course.

Down below in the courtyard, is the sound of smacking wood and the occasional chorus of baritone conversation.

Satoru, who should be attending treaty meetings with his father, bides his time sparring on the cobblestone with the other men of the Kingsguard – the noise wakes you most mornings.

“—talking to Julietta, you know? The girl who attends to the countess? And she said—”

You hum along to Areta’s words, eyes peering over the edge of the balcony, gaze fixed on the crown Prince.

His snowy hair is damp with sweat, Victorian style dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, every swing of his wooden sword causes a commotion — muscles in his back flexing under the sunlight, so easily seen beneath the thin white fabric.

“—that her lady told her that she heard from a cousin-in-law who works at the docks that—”

You wonder what expression Satoru has as he pummels through his underlings playfully, hardly sparring but more play fighting. You imagine he’s grinning wide, crystalline blue eyes shimmering with glee—

“—that Prince Geto is coming for the hunt!”

You choke. Audibly.

Areta is quick to shut her mouth and lend you a concerned gaze. “Princess, are you—”

“I’m alright.” You wave a hand, catching your breath. Prince Geto. If you think about it too hard, you fear your chest might burst open and spill out your insides.

Oh, fair reader, it seems

Our dear protagonist has come upon

A treasure trove of memories.

“You were, ehem, saying?” You twirl your index finger in the air as if to prompt a rewind. “About. . .”

Areta raises an eyebrow, but nods slowly. “About Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law?” The girl questions, dim.

“No!” You interject immediately, twirling your finger in the other direction. Fast forward. “The other thing— the thing you heard!”

“Oh, about Prince Geto!”

Dearest reader,

Suguru Geto enters.

A man of great mystique,

the northern Prince.

And striking opposite of

our beloved crowned Prince Satoru.

“Yes! About him—”

Suguru Geto.

In many ways you could say he was Satoru’s best friend, his greatest rival and worst enemy all at the same time.

Through solstice events, formal gatherings and other royal duties, the same way you met Satoru, you met Suguru through him.

“Well, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law works at the docks,” Areta begins again, regrettably. “You know? The private harbor where all the spirit and wheat shipments come in, but that's besides the point—”

( suguru was your bestfriend too. in every way it counted. )

“Areta.” You coo, coaxing her to get back to the main point. Why was Suguru coming for the summer solstice hunt? After being away in the North for so long, why now?

The only correspondence you’d had with him was a few letters years ago. And then he stopped writing.

“So, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law saw the Geto family's ship dock in the private harbor!” The girl exclaims hushedly and you hum to yourself, curious.

Rightfully, you’d hold a grudge about never hearing from Suguru.

But in this moment, you feel no resentment or hurt. Instead, excitement that you might see your old friend once more.

And maybe, you, Suguru and Satoru could spend the summer solstice together— just like old times.

( and that’d be enough to get rid of the heat in your chest when satoru gets too close to you. )

Faithful reader,

she could not have been

more wrong.

Four days remain until the summer solstice hunt.

Satoru is scarce around the palace in preparation for his coronation coming soon and treaty arrangements.

You, on the other hand, have exhausted all your hobbies, biding your idle time helping the other ladies at court pick their gowns for tomorrow's feast — the first of seven nightly ones during the solstice.

Another trousseau is delivered to your chambers when you wake.

This time, you’re taken aback.

Instead of an elaborate stack of gifts, a box of jewelry or even a scandalous collection of seductive corsets and nightgowns to remind you of your predicament—

There's a long wooden box, coupled with a sealed parcel.

Inside the box is a beautiful gown, deep burgundy and shapely. Fitted with a low bust cut and short sleeves. It's a mouth watering dress, one you would've bought yourself if you even knew it existed.

But you've never seen a dress designed like this before, down to the intricate details of the underskirts and the hemming.

It's almost intimate.

When you finally open the parcel, you expect a note, but there's none. Instead, inside is a pair of black silk gloves, so smooth it melts in your palms – your mind immediately goes to Satoru and the glove he still holds hostage for you.

You don't think twice before telling Areta that this is what you’ll be wearing to tomorrow’s feast.

( you ought to thank satoru for this gift by wearing it, no? )

˚ ༘ *

The lights in the dining hall are dimmed perfectly to match the moonlight.

When you slip in from the adjacent corridor, greeting visiting nobles and residents of the palace court alike, a sense of nausea floods the pit of your stomach – what will Satoru say when he sees you? Will he like how the dress looks – or rather how you look in it?

Wait, why do you even care?

You’ve never really cared for these things— it must be the tea you had earlier. You nearly feel faint.

Darling reader,

it was in fact,

not the tea.

Your thoughts don't get the chance to linger very long, as the soft hum of music slows to a halt, and everyone begins journeying to their assigned seats.

Naturally, you fiddle with your gloves, not wanting to sit down at the second table yet.

One, it would be very impudent of a lady of your caliber to be seated without a proper escort by a gentleman.

And two, even though you did decline the few men who asked to escort you, you can't help the anxiety that floods your veins when you begin to realize that so many people are sitting already and you're not!

Sure, you're a Princess, but can't a girl be a little shy?

( not that you were waiting for satoru or anything of course. )

Devoted reader,

our protagonist

is in denial.

“It pains me to see such a beautiful lady left unaccompanied.” A voice flits past your ears, so close you can taste it on your tongue — incense, sandalwood.

( oh god, no. )

Your body turns in an instant, almost too quick, and your underskirts almost trip you as the weight sends you wobbling forward.

“Easy—” Suguru Geto’s arm darts out to curl around your waist, steadying you.

“You're here—” “You’re still clumsy—”

The both of you lock eyes at your shared unison of speech, then chuckle to yourselves.

You let your eyes wander over his features, how much he's grown over these past years.

He’s still as ethereal as the royal painters would describe. Prince Geto, the joy to paint, once in an era type beauty, born to be depicted in art, they’d say.

You don't doubt that.

“You look well,” you say. Suguru glances down at you and shakes his head, as if that is too much of a compliment for him to take. “No, honestly— I don't tease, you look very. . . stately.”

“Are you trying to call me old in a polite way, my lady?” He feigns offense, tilting his head to the side a little. You cover your mouth to laugh.

You don't miss the way his eyes linger on your gloves.

( oh, the gloves ! )

“Your highness,” leaves your mouth in a whisper, half teasing, half regal, and you give a brief curtsy, which he counters with a swift bow. “Would you do me the pleasure?” You grin, extending your hand to him.

Suguru — never Prince Geto, not to you at least — had been your solace, your comfort and your refuge.

The greatest friend you could have asked for in your youth.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Suguru whispers, taking your hand in earnest, escorting you over to the table and pulling your chair out for you — settling himself in the seat across from you, on the other side of the table.

( what a coincidence. )

˚ ༘ *

Time passes in waves.

People are whispering, no doubt. As they always do about you. No matter how hushed, you always hear them.

‘Look at the poor Princess consort, sitting beside an empty chair.’

‘You’d think she’d refer to herself as Lady now instead of Consort—’

‘To think even a Princess is not immune from such things. . .’

‘These things happen when you're sold off to a future King.’

“Bitter.”

Your head snaps up at the sound, dessert fork halting mid stab into your slice of cake.

Suguru’s eyes meet yours, as if he’d been looking at you the entire time, like he reads your thoughts as his own.

The people sitting at the table alongside you both fix their attention on him, the whispers halting.

“The cake,” he leans back in his chair, shrugging strands of his hair out of his face, looking down the length of the table at the spectators, nonchalant. “It's terribly bitter.”

You think you’d open your mouth to scold him a little, to not joke about what people say, royals should never engage in such petty gossip – but instead, you smile in gratitude.

( bitter. everybody's so bitter in this place. )

“That's quite unfortunate.” A familiar voice rings out, your fork sliding out of your hand to rest on the edge of your plate. “I hoped it would be rather sweet tonight.”

When you look over your shoulder, Satoru is already at your side, bending a knee and outstretching an open palm to you. “My Princess.”

He looks. . . disheveled.

Not completely out of order, it's something so small — so minute that only those who know him well would be able to point it out. From the crease of his vest to the shaky rasp in his voice—

And the woman in your peripheral stumbling back into the dining hall from the garden entrance on shaky legs. . .

( so that's what he was doing. )

“Your grace,” leaves your lips in a whisper and he kisses the back of your palm before sinking into his seat.

The way he presses his middle finger against his bottom lip like he’d been burned by the silk makes you raise an eyebrow. Does he not even have the common courtesy of pretending to like the gloves he gifted?

“I’m pleased you took time out of your busy schedule for us regular people.” Suguru chuckles, and Satoru’s mother, sitting near you all at the head table seems far from pleased.

“Well, a small act of kindness goes a long way.” Satoru parries and you force a smile, stabbing your dessert once more. “Especially for someone as regular as you, Prince Suguru.”

If you had initially thought this would be a quaint rekindling of an old childhood friendship, you never felt more wrong than in this moment — the air settles thick between you three.

“Isn't the future King Gojo just so kind?” Suguru addresses you, and you swallow, stifling your laugh.

“I pray for your marriage. . .” One of the Dukes seated at the table jests, to which you fiddle with the hem of your dress, the burgundy falling over your palms as a chorus of laughter ensues.

Marriage.

Suguru notices your gaze on him – or rather far away – and he smiles to snap you out of it. “Lady name?”

Just then Satoru’s hand reaches for yours under the table, halting your fiddling with the fabric, his grip steady and soft.

“Princess Consort.” Satoru interjects with a flat lipped smile, which could be perceived as kind, but to Suguru. . . “She changed titles.”

When was the last time someone called you by your name and not Princess consort? Always that. Not even Princess name.

“Pardon me,” you mumble beneath your breath, your grip on your dress going slack. You shrug your hand free from Satoru’s grip, abandoning your seat in an instant.

Satoru rises from his chair only four seconds afterward.

“Name—” he calls to you, following you out of the dining hall and down a vacant corridor.

Your footsteps evade him as he chases after you wide steps.

But he stops dead in his tracks when he hears you slam the door to an empty side room shut.

My dearest reader,

brace yourself for the

next publication.

Your kind author

bids you farewell.

#⋆ 🪷 A ROYAL AFFAIR ! ˚ ༘ * #👑 TSCC — series. #★ driaswrld #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fic

[itostea]

care for me? (gojo x wife! reader)

——————————————————————————

in which you’re forced to share a bed with the husband you’re convinced hates you

warnings: there’s only one bed!!!! suggestive bc it’s gojo, they’re both a bit confused, pic from lving yamada kun at lv999

a/n: part of the gojo’s wife series (i recc you read the fic before this one to understand some things), also i’m posting this stuff on my phone now since i’m on vacay …meaning format will be extra ugly💀💀

——————————————————————————

“What exactly did you say to make the principal Gakuganji agree to us on a mission together?”

You think Gojo or rather your husband, doesn’t really understand how fast he actually walks. With the way he towers over every civilian in Japan and how much longer his strides are, you’re almost certain that his pacing is far from normal. It gets to the point where you’re jogging to keep up with him, a huff escaping your lips in exasperation.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head over that, ‘kay?” He gives you a lazy smile and with the blindfold wrapped around his head, you can’t exactly see the way he glances over at you–gradually shortening his steps for you to catch up.

You choose to ignore his comment about “your pretty little head” and instead sigh. “Sator–I mean ‘Toru,” you say carefully, gauging the way he gives a satisfied smile at your correction. After the moment you both had in the kitchen at a dangerously late hour, he insisted you call him a nickname.

He gave some recommendations: my hubby, my king, the strongest and most handsome husband. Naturally, you refused to call him those nicknames in public and even denied him the joy in private. So to avoid his needless whining, you compromised and decided on “‘Toru.” The way he brightened up that day made you feel giddy all over but you brushed it off with the fact that you were just glad he was actually talking to you.

“You didn’t do anything bad right?” You inquire, shooting him a glare.

“I think what I did was reasonable!” He chirps, reaching in a bag of candy to plop some in his mouth—the same bag he insisted on getting before you both went on the mission. You can’t help but feel a bit meek when his fingers inch towards your mouth and he gives a toothy grin, beckoning for you to open. You breathe out an annoyed huff, slightly parting your lips to let the sugary treat on your tongue.

He smiles, leaning forward to let his fingers linger in the plush of your lips. “Good girl.”

The way your breath hitches is visceral and you feel the pricks of embarrassment probe at your skin. Your eyes avert from his and you quicken your steps, trying your best to hide the fact that Gojo Satoru was having an effect on you. You miss the way his smile widens at your reaction.

You still avoid his gaze when he catches up. “You know I’m the one who cleans up after your mess whenever you piss the higher-ups right? It’s me who gets the scolding!”

“Scolding? Would you believe me if I told you stuff like that won’t happen again?”

You pause, analyzing how he flashed a coy grin. Immediately, your eyes narrow. “Gojo Satoru.”

“It’s ‘Toru to you,” he voices, chuckling at how your frown deepened. “Relax. I didn’t do anything that bad. Just did enough for them to stop annoying my wife.”

You choose not to linger on how easily the words “my wife” falls out of your lips but it’s hard when he went so far just for your wellbeing. Your mind drifts to his lips pressed against your forehead, instantly regretting it as you feel your neck growing warm. You shake your head, trying to dispel the thoughts from multiplying, earning a curious look from Gojo.

Before he can ask why you went quiet, you stop in your tracks, looking at him with an expression so cute he nearly feels himself fall over. You click your tongue. “‘Toru. You annoy me more than them.”

He whistles, looking at the sight of the abandoned hospital–the location where the S-grade assigned to the both of you curse lies hidden. “Harsh.”

-

The lady in the front trembles as she inputs the data for the two of you. Her eyes scan Gojo’s wide grin and your blank expression that seems even more menacing with the red splatters on your clothes. You blink, tilting your head. “It’s not my blood,” you try to reassure her but that only seems to worsen her fear.

“R-Right!” She squeaks. “One room for Mr. Gojo, correct?”

Gojo nods with a hum, taking the keycard from the lady’s trembling hands. He gestures for you to follow him, walking with so much bravado that any onlooker doesn’t even question the bloodied state of your uniform. “You should’ve been more careful,” he says. “You made a mess.”

“Not everyone has infinity you know?” You mumble, following him into the hotel suite. Your eyes scan the seemingly fancy interior and furniture, not paying much attention until your eyes lock onto an unmistakable sight.

“‘Toru. Why is there only one bed?”

His disinterested hum only serves to make you grow more baffled. He shrugs off his jacket, cracking his neck with a hum. “That’s odd. I could’ve sworn I said two beds. The lady must’ve messed up seeing you all bloodied up. Must’ve scared her real bad huh?”

You’re almost certain that this predicament has brought you more stress than any mission you’ve been sent. And you’re amazed–no bewildered, that Gojo’s not even batting an eye at this.

“Oh? Don’t tell me you’re getting all shy now that you’re sharing a bed with your husband.”

“We’ve never done that before!” You squeak out, dropping your bags on the floor.

That was partially his fault, he thinks. Even so, he keeps his mouth shut. “You have any extra clothes you can wear?”

Even in your frenzied state, you still process the question, blinking in recognition. “No…”

He shrugs. “Then you can wear my shirt,” he points to the white button-up. “Might be gross but it’s better than nothing right? Besides that makes us even now. I got to see you shirtless when—”

“‘Toru!”

He grins an easy-going smile. “Ya know if you’re not comfortable with sleeping on the same bed as me, I can always sleep on the couc–”

“No!” You say a bit too quickly, straightening yourself out when he raises a curious brow. “No I mean like, I don’t mind that much. Besides, I don’t want you to hurt your back on the couch…”

“That’s the only reason?” He smiles and it’s not hard to realize he’s teasing you.

You nod, resolute despite your sweating palms. “Yes.”

“Then…” he shrugs. “You can take a shower first. I’ll leave the shirt near the door. Promise I won’t look. Unless you want me to.”

You can only give another nod, shooting a glare at his shit-eating grin. You take off to the showers, clasping a hand over your mouth as you silently scream in embarrassment. The warm water makes your skin feel hotter to touch and you only try your hardest not to dwell on the details. It’s just a night on the same bed together. Nothing more, nothing less.

You wish you could have kept that confidence huddled in your blankets–watching your snow-haired husband crawl into bed. You try not to linger on his bare torso for too long to be considered healthy and have to physically restrain yourself from jumping when his hand grazes your thigh.

He’s not wearing his blindfold or shades, meaning you can really see how his eyes watch your every move in interest. He leans closer, making you bite a squeak down. “You’re hogging the blankets.”

“Huh? Oh yeah,” you laugh awkwardly, throwing the fabric off your body for him. Gojo Satoru doesn’t have a favorite art piece but you in his shirt might just take the spot. He licks his lips, seeing how you unbuttoned a few buttons near the collar for more room–how you avoided his gaze. Cute, he thinks.

He raises a brow when you lay on your side, covering yourself in the blankets until you’re a heap of fabric. His lips twitches into a smile when he sees the way you curl up into yourself. Then again, he chooses not to mention it when he feels himself growing drowsy.

You’re not sure how much time passes but you can hear Gojo’s gentle breathing fill the room. You bring a hand to your legs, trying to ease away the goosebumps forming on your skin. At first, you assumed they were from nerves but now, you’re almost certain it’s because the hotel’s blasting the AC. And oddly enough, Gojo seems completely unaffected, even able to sleep peacefully.

You sigh, turning to face him. You’ve always known your husband was an attractive man but it’s not fair for him to look so good even while sleeping. His lashes are long and you find yourself staring a bit too long at his lips. Again, your mind drift to the moment when he pressed those same lips to your forehead and instead of being filled with embarrassment, you’re filled with a feeling that squeezes at your heart.

Subconsciously, you’re reaching for his face, grazing a finger down his cheekbones to the corner of his lips. His skin is smooth against your touch and you’re almost jealous that his skin was perfect too. You continue to map your way to his jawline, mesmerized at the sight.

“Enjoying the view?” He mumbles, his eyes closed though a smile crosses his face. You’re about to retrace your hand away from his face but he’s quick to clasp one around your wrist. You nearly squeak when he leans closer to your palm, his eyes finally opening to peer into yours. “Eyeing me when I’m asleep? I didn’t know you were such a per—“

“I’m not!” You yelp, snatching your wrist away from you him with a flushed face.

He hums, propping himself on his elbow to watch you. “Hm? Now you getting all embarrassed on me after you felt me up?”

“I did not feel you up.”

He merely shrugs with a grin. “It’s all good. I think you’re pretty cute too.”

You didn’t know it was possible to be this flustered until you shared a bed with Gojo. “I only touched you because I was cold!”

That wasn’t entirely a lie either. When you felt Gojo’s face, his skin was warm under your touch and you wondered if the rest of him was like that. Naturally, you refrained from thinking even further or else you really wouldn’t sleep a wink.

To your surprise, you feel see him pat the spot besides him. Your lips fall apart as you continue to stare. He only shrugs with a lazy smirk. “What? A husband has to make sure his wife’s comfortable right?”

It’s hard to say no when you feel the cool air of the AC bite into your skin—your limbs trembling. You hold his gaze for a few seconds, sighing as you scootched closer to him. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling your frame closer until you’re against his torso.

You try not to dwell on the fact that you can feel how his muscles move against your shirt—or rather his shirt; how he nuzzled his face in your neck, breathing in your scent that this scene felt so naturally domestic.

You squirm in his embrace, shifting your hips around to find a more comfortable position. His arms immediately squeeze you tighter, making you squeak. “Stay still,” he says lowly against your ear.

“You’re holding me too tight,” you whine, wiggling your hips again. This time, his hand squeezes your hip.

“Yeah? Well if you don’t stop squirming, I’ll have another problem to deal with.”

“What—“ You say before the realization hits you and you’re left spluttering like an idiot. Your head turns to face him and you immediately regret it.

His blues bore into yours and you see how his lips twitch as if trying to hold back a laugh. “I—“ You start, turning away from him with your stomach doing flips. “Okay,” you squeak, clenching your eyes shut at your response.

He only grunts in response, spooning you with his chin atop of your head. Minutes pass and you relax in his arms. “‘Toru?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you being so nice to me right now? I thought you hated me?”

“What?” For the first time, he sounds awake. He leans up so you can see his hues peering down at you. You watch bemused as a tortured expression crosses his face for a second. “(Name), I don’t hate you. I never hated you.”

Your bewilderment grows. “But you…you never talked to me.”

He smooths a hand through his hair. “Can’t say I don’t have some regrets about that.”

It’s the same like last time, when the two of you were in the kitchen. He’s looking at you so tenderly that you can’t bring yourself to look away. “I care for you,” he continues, trying to pick his words thoughtfully. “Much more than I want to.”

He still peers down at you, so close that you almost think he’s about to lean in for a kiss. You observe him with a wide-eyed look, only letting out a little gasp when you feel his lips press against your forehead again—the feeling familiar to you. Gojo resumes his cuddling shortly after, squeezing your hip once more. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

You widen your eyes, remaining silent. You’re at a list of words, momentarily left speechless. Even so, you reach down to press a hand over his on your hip, squeezing it lightly. “I know.”

Gojo thinks he sleeps the best when you’re besides him. You’re soft against him, fitting perfectly in between his arms. He thinks, there’s no way he was going to let this moment pass—and he was a man who kept true to his wishes. The next time he was going to sleep in his house, he was going to do it with you by his side.

BONUS:

“‘Toru…”

“What is it again?” He grumbles, though there’s no bite in his tone.

“Why couldn’t we just teleport home instead of going to a hotel?”

A brief silence follows.

“Go to sleep.”

#satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #fluff #arranged marriage #gojo’s wife series

[nhoirr]

It was the year of spring when you got the most lamest confession you've ever heard.

all from a man you'd never expect—nobody ever did expect that GOJO SATORU had the time and capacity to fall in love.

what a surprise, because he was too.

"go out with me," he states more than questioning.

like a giddy normal teenager that was not the most handsome man in the world—the, gojo satoru asked you out.

infront of everyone; without shame, oh but full of smugness that makes you want to reject him just to see his pride fall.

but perhaps the from shocking event did the thought not come to you that day, not when the pressure was all time high.

"This.." you start and the crowd quivers in their boots, boys and girls alike already demanding their victory from the bet, "this is what you greet me with after ignoring me for weeks, satoru?" the said man stiffens with his posture, and as if the bouquet of flowers he held felt the shift of the atmosphere—it dramatically wilted.

"oh, c'mon that was just—" he knew reasoning was futile when he gulps the words down his throat again, catching the way you glare.

and you spin your heel around. guessing with how he hangs his head low, you think he's discouraged enough to let it go and take the rejection.

but the man you knew was always so annoying, so stubborn.

you hear a call of your name but you don't snap your head like your-all-time-secret-is-out kind of surprise, but it's because the dumbest man spoke the dumbest words you've ever heard.

"I, the heir of the gojo clan, am insanely inlove with you!"

the crowd goes eerily silent, like time was frozen but not in a romantic way. It was embarrassingly awkward that you could hear the sound of a pin drop.

"what?" you spat out in disbelief, not comprehending his words and he takes it as another sign to repeat himself to you.

"I lik—" you stop him from talking by slapping a hand to his mouth, glowing eyes shimmering with the brightest smile known to man, "yes yes, don't repeat yourself!" you exclaim almost immediately.

your breath hitches in your throat the moment you feel his hand grasp your wrist, the one that covered his mouth and he points a finger to speak, muffled by your hand, "dso yu asekpt?" you could faintly make out the words he said—do you accept?

it syncs with the voice echoing at the back of your head ever since he confessed.

and yet, the answer always remained the same.

so you drop your hand from his mouth, catching the way his eyes follow your every move—perhaps enough to notice the hesitation, and he worries for the words you'll speak with such an expression.

quickly he starts before you speak, "Its fi—"

"I like you," he gets cut off, jaw slacked and unmoving in shock.

he blinks once or twice, but the crowd reacts before he can, waking him enough to respond back.

with a lopsided grin and dusted cheeks, he speaks again too—he thinks could be lost to the noise of the crowd, but with how close you were, he thinks you'll be able to hear even a whisper.

"I like you too."

©nhoirr — DO NOT COPY NOR PLAGIARIZE MY WORKS!

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