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#gojou staoru x you
kuroopaisen · 3 years
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brat || gojou satoru
➵ gojou wants you to pay attention to him. and no, he doesn’t care about how annoying he’s being. 
wc: 2k
warnings: gn!reader, gojou is Annoying, mild spoilers i guess? 
a/n: hi welcome to my gojou brainrot i would like to escape and yet i cannot,,, will i deliver more mindless fanfic? who knows! 
You sigh, turning the page of your book with an exhausted kind of resignation. Had you even comprehended what’s in the last paragraph? Or had you just let your eyes gloss over it, admiring the shape of the letters without actually taking any of them in?
Reading a book isn’t so difficult under normal circumstances; sure, you’ve got your own concentration to wrestle with, but that’s an (occasionally) tameable beast.
The man sprawled on the couch next to you, however, is not.
“Are you done yet?” Gojou hums, sticking his legs straight up in the air.
“I’ll be done sooner if you shut up,” you mumble, starting from the top of the page for what feels like the thirty-second time in the past five minutes.
Gojou’s not handling the boredom well. He’s spent the past five minutes cycling between humming Danse Macabre in an octave too high to be comfortable while swinging his legs in circles and poking your cheek as he crouches next to you on his knees.
“You’re the one who said I could come over,” he chirps, completely unfazed by your words.
“I never said that,” you mumble.
It’s not a lie. Earlier today, Gojou’d asked if you were going out tonight. You’d said no. He’d decided to take that as permission to crash at your place.
Although the onus is at least a little on you; he has a habit of doing things like this. You’ve got to be one step ahead of him if you want to win against him on a petty debate like that.
A head of white hair wriggles its way onto your lap.
“Satoru?”
“Hm?”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m bored,” he hums.
That much is obvious. But you know it’s not that simple; he’s bored, yes, but more importantly, he wants your attention. Even your chest flutters at that.
“You’re a grown man,” you smile. “Entertain yourself.”
A well-worn coquettish smile plays on his lips. “I can’t tell if you’re being lewd or not.”
You slap his chest.
“Ow!” He gasps, placing a hand over his heart. “I can’t believe you’d be so cruel to me!”
“Then stop being annoying.”
“I’d like to think I’m ‘charmingly playful’.”
“Do you take constructive criticism?” You tilt your head at him, biting back a smile.
“I would,” he muses, “if I weren’t already perfect.”
“That ego of yours is going to get you into serious trouble one day,” you grin, flicking his forehead gently.
He lets you, grinning back. “Ah, but you see, my dear,” he hums, grabbing your hand before you draw it away and lacing your fingers with his. It’s a bit of an awkward angle, but you don’t mind.
“I’m simply stating the truth.”
“Well, the truth hurts,” you mutter, “so it’s no surprise no-one wants to hear you gassing yourself up.”
Gojou laughs. His hair tickles your inner thighs and you’re almost convinced to give in. But it wouldn’t be good form to feed his ego after chiding him for it.
You’re well-aware his ego’s already gotten him in trouble – many times, in fact. But Gojou seems to have a way of wheedling his way out of anything.
And, of course, you know that his ego doesn’t come from nowhere.
Doesn’t stop it from being annoying, though. The fact it’s at least partially well-founded makes it worse.
You take a deep breath, turning your attention back to this blasted book. Gojou will just have to wait.
“Why are you even reading that brick?” He muses, tapping the bottom of the book’s spine with one long finger. “You look bored out of your mind. And, you’ve been on the same page for the past five minutes.”
“You know,” you tilt your head to the side, a sour look on your face. “‘Adult stuff.’ Upskilling and all that.”
“Ah,” Gojou grins. “Career work.”
“Mhm,” you sigh. “And some of us can’t just learn on the job.”
Although, you ponder, the thought blurred with gentle melancholy, some of us aren’t constantly risking our lives.
Gojou always tells you not to worry; he’s the strongest jujutsu sorcerer there is, after all. But even that’s not enough to lull you into an uneasy sleep, to bring you warmth when your bed is cold.
You’re never truly at ease until you feel him slip into your bed in the early hours of the morning, his arms slinking around your waist and pulling you towards him. It’s like clockwork how he buries his head in your shoulder as every muscle in his body relaxes. He always thinks you’re asleep – and honestly, it’s easier to let him keep believing that.
What you’ve got isn’t exactly a ‘relationship’. At least, not in the most traditional sense of the word. Gojou’s never pretended to offer you that. But it’s not so simple as a ‘friends-with-benefits’ arrangement.
Gojou Satoru doesn’t suit the domestic. But he relishes in it, the same way a child might enjoy playing at high tea with little plastic teacups and cupcakes made of playdough. Some might find this frustrating – the idea of existing in this grey, a dark, nebulous unknown stippled with moments of affection and vulnerability.
But there’s still comfort in it; a sense of understanding, a place to let loose and relax. Being part of this world is hard. It’s so cruel – sending children out to fight things they barely comprehend, letting them suffer and even die. And what do they have to show for it? A future of doing the same thing while also having to navigate just how shit the world of sorcerers truly is?
Why aren’t more of your colleagues angry about this? One counsellor isn’t enough to maintain the wellbeing of these children. Do the higher-ups even care? Well, you know the answer to that question – it’s enough to make you want to throttle each and every one of them—
“Hey.”
You clatter back to earth, met by a pair of electric blue eyes. It’s easy to forget just how striking they are; it’s like they can stare right into your very core, laying out secrets you never even knew you had.
“Hm?” You blink at him. You can’t risk him knowing you’re worried. He doesn’t stand for that sort of thing; he’ll just tease you for being concerned about him. Though, you’re well-aware that he enjoys being doted on.
“You’re spacing out,” he smiles. “Again.”
Sure, he sounds like he’s joking. But even he can’t disguise that little flash in his eyes, the slight tension in his face. It’s the same expression he has when he talks about that new student of his.
Gojou understands you better than you’d like. Every little tell, every tiny hint towards what you’re actually thinking. It’s near impossible to hide anything from him; it’s irritating, really.
But, at least he’s got the decency to leave the direction of the conversation in your hands.
You weigh it for a moment, deciding how exactly to respond. Should you play it off and throw his brattiness back in his face? Or should you pry open that conversation like the doors of an old temple?
Today’s not the day. Neither of you are ready for that.
You stick your tongue out at him. Perhaps it’s not how an adult should behave, but you don’t care. Neither does Gojou.
“I think,” he sighs, plucking the book out of your hands and tossing it across the room, “it’s time you took a break.”
You yelp a moment too late, watching your book slap against the wall and flop to the floor. It’s only a paperback – thank God – but you’re not ready to fix another dent in the wall caused by the force of mayhem known as Gojou Satoru.
“And I have been waiting long enough,” he grins, wrapping his arms around your neck and launching forward.
“Satoru—”
It’s too late. He’s got you pinned beneath him – and not in a sexy way. All six feet and three inches of him is laid flat on top of you, your face smothered by his chest.
You punch his side weakly.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” he laughs.
“Fine,” you try to say. All you get is a mouthful of Gojou’s shirt. You slip your hands up said shirt and tickle his sides.
“Hey, hey, hey—” He splutters, grabbing at your wrists.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” You smirk, continuing your assault.
Gojou whines, propping himself up by his palms and arching his back like a cat in an attempt to shake you off.
“Get back here,” you grin, lifting your torso in response.
His arms are immediately wrapped around you, pinning your own arms to your sides. You yelp in surprise, finding yourself laid gently against the couch with your face pressed against his neck.
“Much better,” Gojou chuckles, still on top of you as he nestles his head into your shoulder.
It’s not the most comfortable position, but that’s rarely a priority when it comes to Gojou. You wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t just his way of goading you into relocating to your bed for ease of cuddling (although you have your doubts that it’s the only thing on his mind).
“You want attention that bad, huh?” You chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.
“Mhm,” he smirks, bringing his head up to get a proper look at you. “I’m a busy man, you know. I don’t think you’re appreciating my free time enough.”
“And yet, you never seem to leave my damn house,” you muse. “I’m starting to think you don’t actually have a job.”
Gojou laughs, leaning down and kissing you properly.
“That’s not an answer,” you say against his lips.
He ignores you, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.
You sigh, conceding. His lips are so soft yet so persistent, somehow both desperate and playful. He’s aggravatingly good at this sort of thing – before Gojou, you didn’t really understand what it meant to be a ‘good kisser’. But of course, he manages to excel at this, too. And annoyingly enough, he’d been right to brag about it.  
He brings one hand up to cup your cheek and moves another down to your waist. It’s a surprisingly chaste move for him, but you don’t mind. You tangle your own hands in his hair, resisting the urge to tug it. If you do that, you’ll officially lose any chance of getting more reading done tonight. Although your ability to focus on anything other than him is waning quickly.
When Gojou pulls back, he’s got that look in his eyes. The one that always makes your cheeks flush, makes your heart feel a little lighter. The one that almost makes you say something stupid.
Thank God you always have your wits about you.
“You get five minutes,” you sigh. “And then you’ve got to let me finish the chapter I’m on, okay? Then I’m all yours.”
Gojou’s grin blossoms with delight.
He slots himself beneath your chin and rests his cheek against your chest. A hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him.
You smile, propping your chin on the top of his head and wrapping your arms around him.
Despite all his big talk, his irksome demeanour, even his obnoxious height, Gojou Satoru loves to be held.
You always oblige. He never asks – that’s too close to admitting weakness.
But you understand. He needs this. Sometimes he just wants to be tended to.
Being let in like this is an honour. He’s letting you be part of his life, despite his grand plans. Plans that, when he’d told you them, shifted your whole understanding of him.
Gojou represents change.
You have to have faith in him. You have to believe he’ll make good on his promises and turn the sorcerer world on its head. It’s no easy burden; and despite what he claims, even he falters in the face of something so monumental.
But despite all that, he’s still him. He hasn’t let the weight of his goals crush him; at least, not entirely. He finds the little joys, indulges in mundane delights, sees the humour in things.
Gojou Satoru wants to change the world, but he still lets himself be a part of it.
Perhaps that’s why it’s so easy to love him.
Even if he can’t offer the stability and promise of a stable relationship.
Even if he’s a little brat.
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