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satoruhour · 9 months

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HIS FAVOURITE W— STUDENT !

a/n: dilly / @crysugu i am losing the pwp war i needed the lore to be in this HELP. anyway !!! professors bc i cannot stop my mind from spiralling while starting my university classes — im not entirely proud of this but eehhh ….

wc: 4k

warnings: ultimately semi-public sex for all, unprotected sex, cumshot, standing doggy, brief oral (m receiving), brief f! masturbation, brief fingering (gojo), geto is a professor who is also a camboy, camgirl!reader, f! and m! masturbation, mentions of bad dragon’s cumtubes, brief fingering, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink (geto), pussy slapping, spitting (on yo pussy), pet names, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, tit play, fingering, implied f! masturbation (nanami), mentions of murder, stripper!reader, riding, degradation, calls you ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, calls you ‘mama’ once too, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), deep-throating, slight face-fucking (toji), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GOJO

professor gojo was… an interesting teaching figure. he didn’t have a set way of doing lectures or tutorials, nor was his feedback on assignments entirely coherent, but he was fun and unorthodox. he was also hot as fuck, as you’ve heard from your friends, but you never really got the deal even after seeing his photo on the university website or from miles away entertaining some starstruck student. his classes were always left with no vacancies, too, only able to see what your friends meant after stepping foot first into the lecture.

you were a tad bit early, greeted with gojo sitting at the front with his legs propped up on the desk as he shot you a nonchalant greeting and you think maybe you should’ve signed up for another lecture group, but then he speaks and the air is knocked out of your chest. professor gojo is charismatic when he teaches about art, design and media, captivating everyone with the stark white hair and blue eyes, but he’s clever with his glances because you aren’t realising he stares at you more than anyone else.

aren’t you in your second year? how did he not see you anywhere last year? why did you just sign up?

the smiles he gives you are sweeter than others, the words more sugar coated with lilts in his voice and you’re chastising yourself for not being any different from everyone else, soon turning into the girls who ask for extra tutoring sessions and sidling up to him on campus — at least you’d get the full experience.

“oh! sweetness, what are you doing here?” you’ve managed to get gojo just as he leaves his office, standing outside for quite some time thinking if you’d really want to do this. several lecturers and professors have already walked past asking if you needed anything, but no matter how much you wanted to say professor gojo’s name, it always turned into something like waiting for a friend.

“oh— uhm, professor gojo, just wondering if the grade for that major project is really set in stone?”

gojo makes a show of thinking, but you know you’re asking for the devil himself when he replies yes with a stifled grin and you’re asking if the two week period of appealing works for the major you’re in.

“you can submit other collaterals as an appeal but it might either boost your grade or bring it down,” the professor leans down with a sick smile on his face, because he’s had so many people outside just like this, nervous from his advances and yet not going through with what they thought they could do. but this time it’s you, the you who he imagined taking on his office desk or even in a lecture theatre for everyone to see, who wants the words to fall from your lips just so he could be your knight in shining armour.

“is there really no… other way to appeal?” you swallow when gojo switches the position and gets you in exactly where he wants you: your back facing his office, his face dangerously close to yours while his eyes slyly catching the way your thighs rub together.

gojo smirks to himself when you knock down yet another cup of stationery on his desk after “discussing” ways you could improve your grades, nails making unsatisfactory noises on the wooden desk while he can hear your cunt gush around him, made obvious from the squelch of your hole and he’s muttering praises into your neck from behind.

“this what you had in mind, baby?” just another girl in his roster, getting ruined just for a grade that wasn’t even that bad. what you didn’t know is that you were the only girl, getting professor gojo so hard in lectures and tutorial classes just from the sight of you that to finally have you — it’s a sweet reward. you shiver when his hand reaches to your front to rub at your clit and you’re grasping at nothing as moans leave your lips.

“y-yeah, professor—” gojo is filthy, lewd, lifting your leg to prop up on the desk just so he could get deeper in you, your pussy everything he imagined and more as he continues to fuck into you. you’re warmer than his hand, than some hookup’s mouth from the club, clenching around his cock so tightly his hips stutter.

“f-fuck, angel, tryna snap my dick off?” you let out an incredulous chuckle at that, hips moving back to meet his while the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass fill the room. your juices are coating his length so well, too, that gojo’s eyes lock on your cunt that sucks him in over and over again, the spread of your pussy lips just amplifying his moans. the other spreads your cheeks and sighs at the translucent ring of cum at the base of his cock, hips fucking up to hit your sweet spot that you’re cumming with a shock down your spine — so hard, so deep, so intense that you’re jolting from the orgasm with whimpers of his name. gojo never truly is done with you after pulling out to cum on your ass, however, and you aren’t either.

there’s a thrill that runs through his veins when you back him up onto the sofa, a glimmer in your eyes that suggest you’re as intoxicated on him as he is on you, a sultry gaze taking over your shyness from earlier before he’s pushed onto the cushions.

“thank you for the meal, professor,” you giggle and gojo swears he’s reached his death when your mouth first closes around his still sensitive tip and he whines loudly, hearing your fingers fill your drooling cunt as your hand squeezes out leftover cum from before. a hand runs through your hair and your cockdrunk face is enough for him to see white—

professor gojo thinks you look heavenly between his legs.

✶ GETO

you sigh echoes throughout your dorm room, ending the stream and collecting your keep for the day as you grimace at the mess you’ve made on your sheets. it’s not like it wasn’t pleasurable, but on some days you’re wondering how long you truly need to serve gross men on the internet for it to be enough to pay off your university fees. sure, there were a few attractive people who commented and tipped you, but that was the extent of it. it’s not long before you can only think about cleaning up and taking a big fat nap, but a video in the sidebar catches your attention.

it seemed like a casual stream — no script or planned storyline apart from a heavily tattooed arm taking up half the screen, his pelvis just slightly off the thumbnail. he was faceless, too, filming rather from the chest down which was also inked, something that sends a chill to your core.

it’s only later when you’re slipping your dildo back into you as you watch this stranger pump his cock, guttural groans and slick noises filling your airpods that you realise the dragon wrapping around his arm looks awfully familiar. you’re so blissed out by pleasure, focusing on the needy moans that the man lets out before he cums with a grunt, so much cum leaking out from him. you’ve reached your high too, but you have no time to admire the stranger because it seemed like he was in a hurry, but not before you’ve caught a glimpse of his lip ring.

you know why he looked so familiar, now, standing in front of him in his office while his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, something he doesn’t do often. geto suguru doesn’t wear his lip ring in lecturers either, and now you think you know why because they match the video you’ve seen just last night. you aren’t even entirely sure why you were called in, and you think maybe it’s because you “accidentally” sent a friend request, but you’re taken aback when he asks you if you’ve already selected a tutor to be your mentor throughout your major project.

“surprised? i sent out the email a week ago, love.” you try not to let the name get to you, and the confession lingers at the tip of your tongue.

“y-yeah! i saw it, professor geto, just—”

everyone was no stranger to professor geto’s striking looks, always turning heads with his unconventional gauges and long hair that probably should’ve landed him in a modelling agency in the first place. except, he’s opting instead to teach linguistics, a fitting major for him to talk of the history of language and its formation of it, even slipping in some latin and greek to show its origins but you can hardly listen when all you can focus on is the tight pull of his shirt around his body while his hair falls around his face and you think maybe it was a bad time to think if his hair falls out of his bun while he rails someone. you hope soon it’ll be you, just so you can confirm it for yourself with no other reason involved (you’re a fucking liar).

geto clears his throat and you swallow and the flex of his forearms only distract you further, the dragon on his arm seemingly laughing at your torment as it moves along his skin — the other doesn’t miss your dilemma, staring at you for your answer with a dark stare and enjoying the effect he had on you. your brain doesn’t respond fast enough, though, and you’re blurting out the first thing as you watch the curve of his mouth turn in either distaste or satisfaction; you weren’t sure.

“i saw you stream yesterday—” and you slap a hand over your mouth, wanting to run immediately, but you didn’t expect him to smile after a moment of recognition, making the connections to your account until his mouth falls open just a little.

“you’re the little cutie who sent me a request last night, aren’t ya?”

as he asks the question you hoped he wouldn’t ask, you find there’s nothing on your mind except maybe seeing his tattooed arms wrap around you — and you did. they looked so much better up close, leading from one thing to another in that stuffy office soon they’re looking especially good with how he’s currently dragging the tip of his cock along your folds, collecting your slick as you hold onto his biceps after confessing sin after sin about you from—

“i’ve jerked off to your videos.” a burn on your cheeks when geto sets you on his office table, palms leaving hot trails along your thighs and skin. he lets you play with his bulge, hands probably forming bruises on you from how you relieve the tension in his pants.

“the way your cunt wraps around that dildo — makes me wish i was there fuckin’ your pussy instead.” a gasp and a moan when he preps you with both fingers as he sucks hickeys into your neck and plays with your tits, pinching your nipple that has you clenching around him.

“didn’t miss how you like to be bred in your videos too. think maybe you need some real cum, princess,” geto’s button up shirt is pried open by now, trousers just barely pulled down below his hips because he has a lecture in about half n’ hour. though, he wanted your pussy all to himself and if 27 minutes was all he was granted, he was going to make full use of it. geto groans into your hair when your legs wrap around his middle and he’s reeling at how he’s been watching your videos for the longest time and yet, nothing compares to having you fall apart by his hands.

a quick glance to his watch tells him fifteen minutes, eyes flitting back to the squelch of your cunt around him and he smiles smugly at the whimpers he knows so well. he’s sure it’s imprinted on his brain by now but his dick still jumps at the many variations you’ve let out during the 27; he’d commit every single one to memory. “professor— s-shit!”

geto angles his hips up, the curve of his cock hitting that spot just right that your back arches and you let out a drawn out moan, “yes, baby?”

“w-wan’ your cum in me, suguru,” you’re pleading with a drunk little smile and your face is twisted into such pleasure he’s only seen through pixels that geto cums almost immediately with a pained laugh seeing the real thing, hips stilling as he fills you up, up, up to the brim with hot, white semen that geto feels embarrassed to climaxing so quickly. but what can he do? when his favourite camgirl and student asks to be bred, it’s only natural.

how could he possibly say no?

✶ NANAMI

“does that mean the poem is written from the cross’ perspective?” your hand shoots up in hopes of interpreting the text correctly, but also because, just maybe, that you wanted to impress a little someone at the front of the lecture theatre. beside you, you can hear the gasp of your friend along with the eyes of various other students. “sort of like— personification?”

nanami points to you with his glasses that he’s long removed, a small smile on his face. it’s not like you’re trying too hard, but of course you know your shit fairly well. you always have in every class, it was just a bonus you were so attractive that all nanami could think about was spreading your legs right on this desk. “yes, almost. anthropomorphism, something that was very common in poems or works written in old english.”

you were sceptical about professor nanami at first, especially since he was a lecturer who was transferred here from overseas only three months ago and is technically quarter of a white man, but he held command of the japanese language well enough for you to understand, both in speech and concepts. you were more interested in the lecturer himself though, piqued from the moment he explained his grandfather was danish and you turn to your friend, explains the blonde hair, doesn’t explain how he’s so insanely fine, giggling quietly to each other the first day.

as for your major, it was texts after story after poem, but you enjoyed it alongside giving your own input in class — something you knew would help your participation grades. you’ve raised your hand in more ways than one, always coming up at the end of lectures with a question, stopping him in hallways to show him the book you were currently reading. so that’s why you were confused when you were called to the front of the lecture theatre after everything’s over. it couldn’t be bad, right?

it wasn’t bad, it was much better, especially when nanami’s got your legs on either side of him on the lecture theatre desk while he takes his rightful place between your legs — somewhere he’s always longed to be. both the front and back doors are locked, with only your soft, muffled moans filling the room. but nanami has no shame, slurping up the juices that drip from your pussy loudly, possibly staining the desk below him. he’s cared before about the condensation of his drinks but when it comes to your sweet, sweet cunt? he doesn’t give one fuck.

“taste so good, sweetheart,” nanami moans wrapping a forearm around your thighs and just eats. he flicks his tongue over your clit, while the other hand goes up to squeeze at your tits, kneading and playing with them while you’re still at awe at the man on his knees, at how you’ve gotten one of the hottest professors in the university eating out of your pussy like it’s the last meal on earth.

you’re snapped out of your daze when nanami lands a few slaps onto your pussy, brown eyes boring holes into your skull. but this stare is different, as opposed to glaring down the mischievous boys who can’t stop making noise, this is…

“pay attention when i eat your little pussy, angel,” the demanding tone has you shivering, a small grin stifled when he nods in deserved approval and continues his assault. fingers slip in before you have time to react and your head is thrown back so hard it bumps against the wood but you don’t care, clamping down around his fingers. nanami’s pace is unforgiving, sucking hard on your clit while he pumps them in and out.

“feel good?” nanami asks through slurps as he catches your eye, licking one last stripe before gathering his saliva into a ball and he spits onto your clit, sight so lewd you clamp around his fingers. he admires how the way the glob of liquid runs down your cunt and mixes with your arousal that he can’t wait for it to be his cum instead.

“better than…” your voice trails off when he rubs in his spit, a thumb on your bud while he continues to move his fingers and your thighs are already trembling from how nanami knows all your sweet spots in such a short period of time. nanami simply chuckles at your sensitivity, meeting you halfway as you sit up to feel his lips against yours and he whispers against your lips—

“what were you gonna say, baby?”

you’re heaving for oxygen as he adds a third finger and you’re just hoping he’d show you his fucking dick already. hot breath fans across your lips and you smile to yourself seeing how your words affect him.

“better than fucking myself with my fingers thinkin’ it’s your cock, prof.”

✶ TOJI

it was nine in the morning, and toji could already feel a headache forming from the amount of absentees in his class, simply sighing before pulling up the details for today’s lecture, eyes unknowingly looking for you in the large lecture theatre. he finds that you’re already looking, clad in a cardigan and tired eyes — no doubt from trying to reach his deadline earlier than usual. toji found that you liked to do that, the first one to always submit your essays and assignments, so that’s why he knows what game you’re playing at when you’re asking the difference between first, second and third degree murder when you already know their definitions.

he would know — you got full marks the other time.

“hm?” toji only hums when he sees your enthusiastic face and a quick look down to your lower half shows how your legs spread naturally for him. the professor only licks his lips before he spots your underwear, entertaining you for now as you stare on earnestly, while nothing is actually entering your brain. that’s okay, though, you’re smart.

toji can count on one hand the amount of times you manage to catch him off guard, but he didn’t expect both of those times to be on the same day. it was a busy night at the club, trailing behind professor gojo, bored, until the clock hits 11 and the shift changes, some dancers retiring for the night whilst others make their way out. they emerge with pumps and skimpy outfits, but toji still hasn’t found someone worth wasting his loaded bank account on until you’re stepping out in a corset and garters and toji whistles lowly, eyes travelling up your person unforgivingly before he hears a small gasp.

his curiosity is piqued at the small noise, only to be greeted with your widened eyes and taut muscles at having seen your professor at the strip club you work at, but with a clap from somewhere backstage your body moves naturally into a professional stance, and perhaps a little more sluttily than other days.

your professor was hot, of course you would work twice as hard, twisting your body around the pole while you show off your assets — things you were covering just this morning in professor toji’s lecture. he taught criminology, a minor that you were trying out in your second year of uni and if it didn’t work, you’d drop it, but no matter how much you complained about the class, the green eyes that bore into yours in lectures always seem to ask you to stay. you never really knew whether he was looking at you or not.

at least now, you’ll make him.

toji’s hands tightened around the wad of cash he planned to waste tonight, all put on hold just from watching the way you put your body on display. he wouldn’t have imagined seeing you tonight at the strip club he let gojo drag him to, but he’s almost glad he’s here when you seem to be only dancing for him, all focus on the other patrons lost.

your eyes are still locked with toji’s, reminding you of the times in the lecture theatre where green was all you could see, a smile creeping on your face when one of your girlfriends behind you whispers that the man with the black hair and tight shirt wants a private session with you.

that’s all it took before you feel toji’s hands on your ass later in the private room, pulling you to his front with a smirk. “what’s a sweet girl like you doin’ here?”

you roll your eyes as you feign annoyance. your heart was pounding along with the music, finally being able to feel his toned body from the front., “cut the crap, prof. you booked me for a reason. what, here to talk about my grades or something?”

“what? can’t see my favourite student?” you scoff with a small smile.

“and how did you know i work here?”

“i didn’t, but seeing you work that pole,” toji grins, landing a smack on your butt before grinding his very obvious, large bulge on you and he’s loving the way it seemed to stimulate your clit, “i need ya to show me what i’ve been missing, mama.”

toji groans later while you’ve got his cock in his mouth, on your knees in front of him while you’re fisting the places you can’t reach. you take most of him easily, feeling the tip of his length reach the back of your throat. there, your eyes flick up to him, doe eyed and pleading. it isn’t long before you feel his hips bucking into your mouth and the cute twitch of his cock in your mouth, moaning around him as you knead his thighs, dragging him closer with what little strength you had.

“dirty fuckin’ slut, huh?” toji mumbles out breathlessly, tightening his grip around your hair before you start bobbing your head again, a plethora of lewd noises alongside the slurp of your saliva and his pre-cum mixing only makes your panties wetter and sends your cunt clenching around nothing. “who knew my cutest student was such a whore?” your head reels at the degradation, sucking in your cheeks even more while you slobber over him. toji swears under his breath when your tongue sweeps over his tip, collecting his pre-cum.

“it’s s’big in my mouth, professor,” giggling, you bob your head faster as the other’s noises increase in volume, and he’s left to tap the side of your skull, causing you to tilt your head in question. the vibrations of your moans has him grinding into your mouth, shutting you up until he’s cumming down your throat with a loud groan. toji spills so much into your mouth that you have to swallow twice, pulling on your jaw as you show him the remnants of the cum still on your tongue.

“’m sure they have it somewhere in the conduct about professors not having sexual relations with a student,” toji chuckles when he sees you peel off your underwear, eagerly wrapping his arms around your waist. “or even something about cutting corners to get your grades up…” it’s a little soft, trailing off when he feels you drag his tip along your pussy and he’s mesmerised with how your dripping folds accommodate him easily.

you pout in dramatics, thighs tightening around his when you take inch after inch of him before you’re bottoming out. there’s a deep sigh coming from you before you’re moving your hips lazily, a certain slur to your words that already show you’re drunk on your professor’s cock and toji only smiles.

“yeah, but my grades are perfectly fine,” you whisper with a small whine when toji squeezes your ass, something he never thought he’d get a taste of.

“plus, we’re not in the classroom now, are we, professor?”

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risuola · 9 months

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YOU CRYIN'? — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

You and Gojo know each other since high school, and since then, you also hate each other. He bites and you always bite back, the constant argument creates tension that everybody, except you two, seem to notice. One time you said too much, causing Gojo’s self-control to snap.

cw: smut, unprotected sex, creampie, cursing, mentions of bullying (Satoru is a meanie, ok?), overstimulation, enemies to lovers kind of vibe, I feel like the "you cryin'?" line in itself is a warning if you heard the dub version of it, reader discretion is advised — 1,4k words

» PART TWO

"You cryin'?", Satoru taunted, thrusting his hips relentlessly into yours, with a handful of your hair in his unforgiving grip. Standing behind you, with one hand digging into the supple flesh of your side to steady himself, he was pounding behavior into you.

You and Satoru Gojo have a history of never-ending venom-spitting and it's safe to say you hated the man and the man hated you with passion for years now. It started in high school, where you just couldn't stand how full of himself he was, looking at everybody from above as if he was so much better than everyone and yes, you are aware of how powerful of an individual he is but the arrogance that came with it was just unbearable. Much more you liked his closest friend Suguru, but as years passed, you found yourself working closely with Gojo more and more often, because you decided to stay at Jujutsu high in Tokyo to help students learn. You were strong enough to be considered a high 1st grade sorcerer and everything you achieved, you earned by hard work and stubbornness but that didn’t stop the know-it-all from bullying you, no. He had an awful habit of pouring more fuel into the constant fire of argument between you two and you never owed him, always biting back. That being said, your constant bickering with Satoru successfully brought you to where you were now.

Pressed against the wooden desk, sweaty and exhausted as your body was chasing the fourth orgasm with no break in between. It was a torture – the way he was slamming his cock inside of you at the pace that left you breathless, it hurt from overstimulation and burned with pleasure at the same time. You always acted tough, but now you couldn't stop the tear rolling down your cheek as his grip on your hair tightened and his teeth sank into the delicate skin between your neck and shoulder.

"You’re really cryin’”, he grinned teasingly and turned your head more to the side, kissing the tear away. Delighted at the sight, Satoru pulled back and flipped you over so he could see your pretty face when he pushed his girth back onto your swollen insides, kissing every oversensitive spot on his way while hooking your thighs over his hips. You dug fingers into his skin, leaving crescent moon shapes of your nails engraved into his flesh and you once again could feel his pace picking up. Naively, you grabbed at his hip, trying to slow him down but with no effect.

"So pretty, fuck, when you cry like that," he grunted, kissing along the salty trace on your face and down your neck to see the bruising mark of his teeth was already blooming with reds and purples. "Think you have few more in you?", he asked and the thought of few more orgasms terrified you. "You'll have to, 'm nowhere near to be done, wit' ya," a chuckle echoed in his chest and you couldn't tell if his objective was to kill you in the most humiliating way possible or what.

"N-no," you protested and he laughed once more, pulling out almost completely.

"No?", Satoru grined in his usual, annoyingly handsome manner but you barely saw him through the collage of stars in your sight, "'ts too bad you've been naughty lately. Need to fuck some behavior into you."

"Gojo-", you whined, helpless against his muscular body as he was ramming ruthlessly, abusing your swollen oversensitive insides to your limits.

"Nuh-uh", he wrapped his slender fingers around your throat, putting no pressure, but redirecting your head so you looked him in the eyes and you could drown in the crystalline blue tones surrounded by thick snowy eyelashes if you wouldn't know better. "That's not my name, sweetheart."

"Go to hell, Goj-, fuck", you whined and he thrusted harder, your back was slamming against the wooden counter but he was unbothered by the echoing pounding sound that clearly was indicating what was happening in his office.

"That's. not. my. name.", he growled, accentuating every word with a particularly sharp thrust and it was enough for you to drown in the haziness.

"Sa-, uh", you tried, but his pace was unforgiving, his cock fucking you dumb but he hummed teasingly, encouraging you to speak. "'toru- fuck. Satoru, please."

"There we go, wasn't that hard now, was it?", smiling, the sorcerer lifted you up, angling his hips upwards, his cock reaching even deeper although you thought it's impossible. The blunt head kissed every spot inside you and you felt another orgasm approaching. Satoru groaned at how your walls were flexing around his girth and this time, he chased his own, the first one, the one he's been denying himself in order to drive you insane.

He was panting heavily, groaning against your neck, profanities slipping through his mouth as he twitched inside you. Suddenly he grabbed you harshly, nails digging into your trembling thighs and he lowered himself on the expensive leathery chair, giving you a slap to the tender skin, silently ordering you to work. You straddled him, supporting your hands over his shoulders and you pushed him against the back rest, surely bruising his muscles with the harsh grip you had on him. You were desperate to finish him off, to put an end to the torture he’s subjected you to for talking too much. At this point you don’t even remember what caused his composure to snap, what has gotten you into the endless spiral of agonizing pleasure with a man you despised. The man that now you were riding with the last bits of your power, fighting the mind-numbing rush of your own release to bring him to his and you could tell how close he was. Satoru’s jaws were clenched, his fingers were digging harshly into the tender skin of your sides and his hips were bucking up uncontrollably, desperate to reach the blissful relief. His abs were flexing, cock was twitching and his tone became ragged as he groaned what sounded like your name entwined with endless amounts of fucks and yeses. His eyes closed shut and he threw his head back, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that began uncoiling in his entire body. You grabbed at his white hair, smearing open mouthed kisses all over his throat and collar bones, and your movements stuttered with your dripping pussy squelching for the nth time. That was enough for Satoru – he gave in, allowing his muscles to contract one last time as he spilled his load into you, filling you completely with warmth and you were quick to come right after him. Your ups and downs became sloppy, uneven as you slowly ride your highs out and finally, you raised your hips just enough to have him out.

Falling back heavily against his body, you leaned your head over his shoulder in hopes to calm the panting. You felt your heart drumming against your ribcage, you felt the concoction of juices running down your thigh and dripping onto Satoru’s legs, but you couldn’t care less. With his hands releasing your flesh that he was squeezing unwaveringly, you felt your body finally relaxing, your mind coming back to senses and it slowly came to you, what just happened.

Never, not even once in your life, you considered even willing to kiss Gojo Satoru. Yes, he’s annoyingly handsome; yes, his eyes are the most beautiful, magical blue crystalline spheres nature could ever create, and yes – there was a tension between you two since the day you met him, or at least everyone around always pointed that out but you never truly considered him an option and yet, you not only kissed him, but spend god-knows-how-long fucking him – or rather being fucked by him.

“You have to misbehave more often”, he teased, finally able to form his words coherently and you looked at him, eyes still cloudy but you could tell with no mistake that his lips were curled up in a smirk. You almost heard him smirking, that’s how obvious it was. You blinked, clearing your vision to take in his view. Gojo’s face was blissfully tired, he still was breathing though his mouth and the snowy peaks of his hair clung artistically to his sweaty forehead. He was stunning like this, so fucked out, he looked like he’s high and you took few mental pictures of his handsome daze. You also noted to yourself that you, indeed, need to misbehave more frequently.

» PART TWO

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yandere-daydreams · 4 months

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Title: Nursle.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo Satoru x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 3.4k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Mentions of Pregnancy, Implied Stalking, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Lactation, Slight Breeding Kinks, Daddy Kinks, Mentions of Abusive Relationships, and Age Gaps (Gojo is 20, Reader is 35+).

[Part Two]

A few days into the new school year, you decided that Gojo Satoru could not be Fushiguro Megumi’s primary guardian, despite what the paperwork filed by the former claimed. Honestly, the fact that Megumi’s name had been misspelled in every conceivable way across the aforementioned paperwork should’ve been enough to make that clear, but after a decade of teaching, you’d learned to pick up on the smaller signs; a certain discomfort that passed through Megumi's expression whenever you asked about his homelife, the lapse before a half-hearted answer whenever you posed a question to Satoru as to Megumi's preferences. It didn’t necessarily mean anything bad was going on, just that something was going on - something you couldn’t ignore, not completely.

Four weeks into the new school year, you decided that Fushiguro Megumi did not like Gojo Satoru. All your students were at the age where they were suddenly eager to distance themselves from any adult they could call an authority, but Megumi was the only one still in your classroom hours after the school day ended, the only one who stayed for as long as you could afford to let him. Sometimes, Satoru would make an appearance, loiter outside of your classroom or pass time with the best attempts at small talk someone nearly two decades your junior could make, but Megumi made a habit of ignoring him and try as you might, you'd never had the heart to be very strict with your students. The only days he didn’t stay to help you (as much as a nine year old could help anyone do anything) were the days when his sister was free to pick him up and, much to your relief, Satoru was nowhere to be found.

Two months into the new school year, you found yourself on the doorstep of Gojo Satoru’s listed address which, notably, was not the dingy flat you’d dropped off Megumi in front of whenever he stayed too late to justify letting him walk home alone. Instead, you gaped openly at the skyscraper in front of you, as tall as the eye could see and pouring out the kind of people you couldn’t help but want to get away from. You’d called ahead, let Satoru know you’d be making a home visit to discuss some of your concerns about Megumi, but for as long as he’d kept you on the phone, he’d never bothered to explain why he would ask you to meet him in a place like—

“You’re early, Miss (L/n).”

You stiffened, glanced over your shoulder to find Gojo Satoru – dressed in his usual plain, black uniform and unaccompanied by the student you’d come to discuss. He greeted you with a wide grin, a lazy nod, and you returned it with a purse-lipped smile and a tightened hold on the strap of your messenger bag. “Well, I’d hate to waste your time.” You toyed with the idea of meeting his eyes, but your gaze skirted over the pitch-black lenses of his sunglasses and settled firmly on the collar of his button-up. “And you don’t have to call me that. It makes you sound like one of my students and—” A slight pause, a nervous laugh. “I think you might be a little too old to blend in.”

Satoru’s grin only widened. With only your own paranoia as warning, he strung an arm through the crook of yours, dragging you towards the entrance of his looming tower. “I think it’s got a nice ring to it, Miss.”

Something sharp pricked at the back of your throat.

In hindsight, it might’ve been easier to do this with the nine year old.

You kept your teeth grit and your smile plastered on as he led you through the lobby – all shining crystal chandeliers and glistening marble floors – and hauled you into a gold-gilded elevator, the kind that would’ve let you know you were somewhere you didn’t belong under normal circumstances. You watched in stomach-knotting, heart-stopping terror as the numbers ticked up, up, up, until the mirrored doors were sliding open and you were stepping into the living room that could’ve swallowed your shoebox of an apartment whole. Your heels (blocked, low, practical – the only pair you’d found the strength to wear since coming back from your leave) clicked against the bare tile floor as you stumbled into the remarkably open space, his furniture sparse and largely utilitarian. You spotted one of Megumi’s drawings on a low coffee table, a pile of Tsumiki’s hairbands forgotten on an otherwise empty bookshelf, but any other signs of life were either nonexistent or exceptionally well-hidden. Any hope you had that Megumi and Satoru’s situation might’ve just been that of a young, overburdened guardian and his slow-to-warm ward evaporated immediately. Those of limited means tended not to live in penthouses that cost triple your annual salary in rent.

If Satoru noticed your growing anxiety, he didn’t seem to pay it any mind. With an exaggerated yawn, he strode past you and collapsed onto a leather couch – too pristine to have been recently visited by two hyperactive children. When you stalled near the entryway, he let his head lull to the side, his tinted glasses falling low on the bridge of his nose. “You don’t have to be shy. There’s plenty of room – not that I mind the view, if you really wanna stand.”

You took a deep breath and let it out in a long, labored exhale. He’s practically a kid, you reminded yourself. You could only be thankful you hadn’t gotten him a couple of years ago – otherwise, you’d be dealing with an actual child.

Reluctantly, you squared your shoulders and perched yourself on the far edge of the sofa. Satoru immediately closed the distance, draping his lanky arms over the back of the couch, his fingertips just barely brushing against your shoulder. You pulled your messenger bag into your lap, opening your mouth as you looked for Megumi’s file, but Satoru cut in before you could start your well-practiced monologue. “This is your first year at his school, right? I’d remember if I saw a teacher as pretty as you around campus.”

“It’s my first year back,” you corrected. “I’ve noticed Megumi very introverted for a boy his—”

“Let me guess – maternity leave?”

Your lips quirked into a tight frown. Fighting the urge to cross your arms over your stomach self-consciously, you sent him a withering look out of the corner of your eye. “I’d rather not talk about my personal life, if it’s all the same to you. Like I said, I’m not here to waste your time.”

Your tone was clipped, your voice strict, but Satoru’s only response was an airy chuckle, a careless grin. “I’m not in a rush,” he said. “But you’re probably eager to get back home to your baby girl. I know you try to spend time with her on weekends.”

This time, you didn’t try to breathe. Letting your bag fall back to your side, you moved to stand, but Satoru was quick to catch you by the wrist, to pull you back down with a single, playful jerk. Your bag fell off of your shoulder, hitting the floor and spilling open at your feet, but you didn’t reach for it. He was stronger than he looked, and you already knew everything you had to about strong young men with more power than they knew what to do with. “I’d really rather not talk about myself when Megumi is—”

“Can’t be easy, leaving her all alone like that. Did you ask your neighbor to babysit again, or was it that brat of a teenager you call up on weekends?” His hand fell to your thigh, and you immediately regretted wearing a dress, let alone one that ended well before the knee. You’d wanted this to seem causal, unintrusive, but as his fingertips bit into the plush of your thigh, you regretted not going straight to the police as soon as you noticed something strange. “Can’t be easy, not having a husband to dote on you and the little princess anymore.”

You keep your eyes on your feet, on one of the manilla folders spilling out of your bag. Megumi's name was scrawled messily across the upper right corner in red pen, because red was his favorite color and you knew he would see it every time he helped you organize paperwork for your other students. “I appreciate your concern, but we’ve managed to take care of ourselves.”

“I know.” He was close, too close. You could feel his breath, hot and humid, against the shell of your ear. “It’s just that I think I might just be able to take care of you a little better.”

“I think I should leave.” You spoke slowly, your tone flat, factual. Like you were talking to a child, or a dog, or worst of all – a man in monks' clothing, ready to worship at his own alter. “Before either of us does anything we might regret.”

Satoru let his lead lull forward, his fanged smile biting into the corner of your jaw.

You tried to bolt, but it was already too late.

It happened too quickly for you to process. One second, you were writhing in your own skin, your favorite student’s neglectful guardian pressed into your side and the next, you were on your back, splayed over the length of his couch, Satoru’s knee between your open legs and his hands on either side of your head. Your body reacted before your mind, trying to run, to resist, to get away from him, but Satoru’s hand was on your chest before you could so much as sit up, keeping you trapped underneath him without a trace of effort. “You can stop working so hard, momma.” His glasses had fallen away completely, revealing eyes as blinding as the cloudless sky and as unfeeling as raw ice. It was hard to remember why you’d ever thought a man like this could ever have anything to do with a boy as sweet as Megumi. “Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you.”

You shouldn’t have been so worried about the dress. It didn’t matter how long your skirt was, not when the cheap material fell apart so easily under his eager touch – your bra and panties discarded with just as little thought. You panicked, started to kick and shove and thrash, but his hands were already locked over your hips, keeping you pinned to the couch as he bent down and buried his face between your thighs. However young you’d thought he was, he must’ve been younger; his inexperience shining through in the overzealous way he nipped at the inside of your thighs, how hastily he laved the flat of his tongue over your slit. His pace was rough, his technique nonexistent, but you couldn’t remember the last time you had time to touch yourself, and you hadn’t slept with someone else since…

This time, when your mind went blank, you were the one willing away fractured thoughts and bitter memories. You didn’t want to acknowledge the twisted pleasure Satoru was forcing onto your body either, but it would’ve been impossible to ignore the way his teeth grazed over your clit as he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, to not hear the slick sound you just couldn’t seem to believe a part of you would make as he forced two fingers into your tight pussy. You threw your head back, clenched your eyes shut, but no amount of aversion could seem to block out his throaty laugh, to make the reverberations his deep voice sent pulsing through your cunt anything short of unbearable. “Needy little thing,” he muttered, pulling away just far enough to press a lingering kiss into the apex of your hip. “Bet he was neglecting you even before you ran off. Is that why you had to leave him? He didn’t know how to treat a pretty thing like you?”

You would’ve given anything to make him stop talking, but you didn’t have a chance to try and bargain. While his fingers pumped mercilessly into your pussy, his mouth pushed slow, wet kisses into the rounded curves of your stomach, your midriff, your chest. He noticed it before you did; saw the thin trail of thin, near-transparent fluid running down the curve of your chest before you felt the telltale soreness in your breasts, managed to draw a connection between that and the shallow, airy moan Satoru let out as he ran his tongue over your leaking nipple. He took long, agonizing seconds to lick up the spilled milk before his lips found the closest nipple and finally, he latched onto you properly.

He was worse than your newborn. It was an awful thing to think, it was a terrible thing to have to think, but it was true. He was rough, and clumsy, and noisy – groaning as he lapped and sucked, eager to swallow down anything you had to give. Drool seeped out of the corner of his mouth, whatever pain he might’ve alleviated immediately replaced as the fingertips of his free hand kneaded into your swollen tit. By the time he pulled away, he was panting, scissoring open your pussy with enough force to leave your toes curling, your thighs twitching, little involuntary whimpers slipping past your lips despite your best efforts to choke them back.

He didn’t so much earn your climax as drag it out of you, piece by fractured piece, broken moan by stuttering convulsion. Your hands shot to his head, fingers soon knotted through messy white hair, but he didn’t seem to care, didn’t seem to mind, his attention devoted entirely to spreading open your cunt and milking your chest dry even as the last of the aftershocks faded and the first pangs of overstimulation began to set in. When he did pull away from you, it was with an exaggerated smack of his lips, a teasing nudge of the heel of his palm against your clit, a cocky smirk that reminded you of the expression Megumi would sometimes draw onto his doodled stick figures as they were hit with simplistic, two-dimensional cars or torn apart by black and white wolves. That was something you’d meant to bring up during your conversation with Satoru – Megumi’s tendency towards more violent forms of creativity, how it could be an early sign of emotional unrest in children too young to properly express themselves. Now, you could only wonder why he didn’t draw Satoru more often.

You were barely conscious by the time he drew back working one arm under your back and another under the bend of your knees. You let your eyes fall shut and, by the time you found the strength to open them again, you were on your back, dark satin sheets underneath you and Satoru above, snowy hair providing a much-appreciated barrier between you and those terrible eyes. This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from meeting his prying gaze, and he welcomed your bleary stare, drinking you in for one second, then another, before dipping that much lower and slotting his lips against yours. The kiss was surprisingly gentle – all slow tenderness and delicate warmth. Your mind flitted back to dark eyes and pitch-black hair, pointed teeth and deceiving smiles and you willed yourself not to think at all.

You heard fabric shift, felt his hands curl around your thighs. With an aching sort of slowness, he pushed your knees into your chest, leaving you spread open and vulnerable below him. You felt the head of his cock press against your slick entrance, heard a raspy groan trickle past his lips as he thrust into you – bottoming out in the same stroke.

He didn’t wait for you to adjust to his size. With his face buried in the crook of your neck, he rutted into you with short, brutal thrusts; never pulling out of you entirely, never happy unless his cock was abusing the deepest pocket of your wet heat. Immediately, it was overwhelming – too much stimulation being forced onto you too quickly with too little preparation. Your hands fell to his back, your nails biting into his skin as he fucked into you with a jagged kind of desperation. His cock scraped against something soft and spongy inside of you and you cried out, arching against him. “I can’t— It hurts, Gojo, slow—”

“C’mon, baby, you can do better than that.” His voice was low, airy. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss into the corner of your jaw, rolled his hips and pressed himself that much deeper into you. “What’s my name? Who’s takin' care of you from now on?”

It was more an act of desperation than anything; a broken plea that you could barely recognize as your own voice. “Daddy,” you sobbed, shrinking against him. “Please, don’t cum insi—”

You were cut off by an unabashed moan, the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you. His hips pressed into yours, his thrusts growing shorter, more violent as he pumped something warm and awful into your pussy. At the same time, his thumb found your clit, pushing harsh circles into the vulnerable bundle of nerves and bringing your exhausted body to its second climax. Your vision burnt white as your cunt clenched around him, as his thrusts turned labored and languid, as collapsed against you – limp and boneless. Idly, almost lovingly, he nuzzled into the side of your neck, letting several seconds pass in silence before sighing, the pinnacle of satisfaction. Eventually, he picked himself up, resting his weight on his elbows as he cupped your face. “Pretty girl. I think the brat’s got a crush on you, too – always going on about his favorite teacher, telling me to keep my dirty hands away from you.” He laughed, shook his head. “Think he’ll be excited to have a younger sister?”

You didn’t answer, but Satoru didn’t need you to. He was already picking himself up, already pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck as he straightened his back, staring down at you with eyes that must’ve gone lifeless years ago. Eyes that, despite your best efforts to ignore their similarities, you couldn’t help but feel that you’d seen before.

“Speaking of, I think it’s about time we checked on our baby girl.”

Less than an hour later, you found yourself in your makeshift nursery; the corner of your bedroom occupied by a crib and a few shelves of miscellaneous supplies. You sat on the foot of your bed as Satoru held your daughter in his arms, rocking her as she sniffled and threatened to cry. You’d taken a taxi back to your apartment – called up and paid for by Satoru, of course. He’d given the driver your address before you so could so much as process where he was taking you, something you were currently choosing to ignore.

“She looks just like him.” His tone was light, his smile soft. He gestured to your daughter’s curly tufts of dark hair, her brown eyes – both only a shade away from black. “It’ll get worse as she grows up. He was always like that – couldn’t stand to let anyone else be the center of attention.”

You felt sick. Black spots still danced in the corners of your vision, and it took all your strength just to choke something coherent out. “He’ll never meet her. I’d die before I ever let him put his hands on my daughter.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He flashed you a grin, then turned back to your daughter. “I’m gonna keep both of you safe, be such a good daddy to both my pretty girls.” He pulled her that much closer to him, pressing a ginger kiss into her forehead. “You know, you really gotta open up more. I tried as hard as I could, but I don’t think I ever managed to catch her name.”

That made sense. You tended not to use it, when you could help it, when you were strong enough not to think about the man who’d given it to her – the man who’d tried to take yours, before you’d gotten away from him and and his monsters. You weren’t feeling very strong right now, though.

“Himari,” you mumbled, the sound of it alone still enough to steal the air out of your lungs, to leave the taste of blood heavy on your tongue.

“Geto Himari.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #gojo x reader #gojo x you #yandere gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #yanderecore #yancore #yandere gojo

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celesteleoves · 4 months

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“DAMN, IT FEELS GOOD TO HAVE YOU.”

gojo satoru X reader.

summary: satoru never fails to showcase his love for you, even in the most serious moments.

warnings: none, just fluff!! (profanities are used…)

a/n: there is mentions of satorus infinity and before anyone corrects me on how it’s used, for the sake of this work, let’s ignore that. please send requests aswell!

“i like your eyes.” the 17 year old boy mumbled as he gazed into your eyes, your cheeks flushed and you pushed his head away.

“shut up, satoru.” you turned your face away from his as you two sat on a roof, admiring the sunset.

“never. life is a thousand times better when i’m with you. everything about you is like a refresher to me. damn, it feels good to have you.” satoru whispered as he pulled you closer to him by your waist, lifting his arm to move your hair out of your face.

you stared at your lover, mouth agape at his words. satoru never failed to showcase his love for you, even when you two were “just friends”. it’s different now, you have a label on your relationship.

you’d pray he’d stop with the sappy moments at some point, they almost bring you to tears everytime. he made you feel like you were worth more than you actually were.

“satoru, baby, enough. i’m gonna start crying.”

so, as the years went by, satoru never stopped showering you with those sappy moments your teen self adored to the core.

you two walked alongside each other, your students were training with the second years which meant you two could take a little walk around jujustu tech.

“your ass looks good in that uniform.” satoru spoke up, making you blush furiously.

now, his compliments were a bit outrageous, but some were sweet!

“gojo!”

“gojo?! not satoru, sheesh babe you’re hurting my heart.” he clutched his heart in fake agony as you rolled your eyes and lightly shoved his shoulder, expecting not to be able to touch him.

his infinity was off. normally, he has it on at all times. you’ve grown accustomed to the random moments where you two are together and all of a sudden you can no longer touch him because of the barrier his infinity creates.

“what’s up?” satoru notices your furrowed brows and frowns, his blindfold masking the adoration and worry that is present in his eyes.

“nothing. was just thinking about stuff.”

“you’re pretty when you’re concentrated on something. gosh, you’re always pretty.” satoru grinned as he walked closer to you, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

“i-” your words were forced to come to a halt when satoru’s phone rang.

“hello! gojo satoru speaking. oh. right now? alright. y/n and i will be there in a second.”

you tilted your head in confusion as he hung up the phone, making a disgusted noise.

“meeting with kyoto and the higher ups, for the exchange event.” satoru sighed and pulled you close to him, quickly arriving at the meeting room.

you sighed aswell, following satoru into the room as he loudly announced himself.

“hey! thought we had a meeting two days ago. what’s up with this? you interrupted my precious time with a pretty lady.” satoru faked cried as your face flushed, moving to take a seat beside shoko who was already rolling her eyes at his behaviour.

“take a goddamn seat, satoru.”

“woah, don’t get too feisty! not here!” satoru kept making jokes, your laughter being muffled by the arm of your uniform as you fake coughed.

satoru turned his attention to you, grinning even wider when he noticed you were struggling to stay formal.

he wasn’t making jokes for anyone else to laugh, he just wanted to see you smile. your perfect smile lightened up the whole room. it’s a shame you have to hide it around the higher ups when you are in meetings.

satoru tuned out everything principal yaga was saying, staring at you. he admired how concentrated you looked and how carefully you were listening to yaga’s words. he was talking about the students and you cherished them with your whole being. their safety was first priority and you always made that very clear with those around you.

he admired you, admired your motherly instincts you have that you claim to not have at all. he couldn’t wait to settle down with you, his beautiful wife. you weren’t married, you couldn’t be in a world like this. yet, he always called you his wife.

“gojo satoru, you ought to start listening as of right now.” yaga scowled and satoru leaned back into his seat, folding his arms as he grinned at yaga.

“sorry, yaga! i’m too focused on my wife’s beauty.” satoru grinned even wider at his words as he watched you from the corner of his eye.

you gasped, covering your face with one hand as you listened to satorus uncalled for words.

“alright, you two, leave. we can discuss this later, y/n please smack some sense into him.” yaga tiredly said as he waved you two out.

satoru was up in a second, dashing out the door with you.

“satoru! that was so uncalled for!”

“i know, that’s why i said it.”

“you’re such a little-”

“tease? ooh! didn’t know we were getting frisky in public spaces now.”

“satoru!” you laughed in disbelief and shoved him again as he giggled, following you down the hallway with love in his eyes.

“i love you,” he paused as you stopped and turned to him, “that’s why i say stuff like that, you deserve compliments every second of the day and i will continue to give them as long as i’m breathing.”

“you’re such a sap, i love you too.” you said with a soft tone, embracing satoru in a hug which he gladly returned, lifting you up and laughing.

you laughed alongside your husband, a man who you swear to be with until you can no longer breathe.

a/n: this was so lazy, yikes. there’s a shit ton of spelling errors but i’ll make up for it in my next work! please send requests aswell.

#jjk fluff #jujustu kaisen #jujustu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen drabbles #jujustu kaisen oneshot #gojo satoru fluff #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n

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clamenstell · 4 months

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thinking about lovesick!gojo

- lovesick!gojo who fell in love with you when you held his hand in comfort when he was upset from being scolded by the higher ups about something reckless he did.

- lovesick!gojo who noticed the way you understood that he was still young and even the strongest made mistakes, which is okay as he's still learning.

- lovesick!gojo who started noticing little things about you, like how you pick your nails when nervous, how your eyes light up when talking about your interest, how you tap your pencil in thought when working in class and when you smile, little dimples appear on your cheeks.

- lovesick!gojo who gets butterflies in his stomach whenever you giggle at his terrible jokes while suguru and shoko both roll their eyes in annoyance.

- lovesick!gojo who jokes around even more in order to hear you laugh again, even when the others grow even more tired of him.

- lovesick!gojo who doesn't try to hide how much he wants to hang out with you, who makes up ridiculous excuses to spend time with you. "What do you mean Suguru is busy? Isn't he right there?" "HAHAHA! That's hilarious, let's go somewhere else..." as he drags your form in the opposite way.

- lovesick!gojo who falls even more when you indulge in his teasing. "Need some help?~" You roll your eyes. "I wouldn't want to bother the strongest one~ I'm sure you have better things to do." His grin widens. "It's ok, I don't mind sparing my time for you~"

- lovesick!gojo who tries to impress you everytime you're both assigned on the same mission, showing off at every chance he got and turning his head expectantly to you to see if you were watching him. "Did you see how I exorcised that curse?" "Yes, you did great Satoru.🙄" ":))))"

- lovesick!gojo who feels the pit of jealousy when he sees you conversing with a kyoto student, even more when he sees you laugh at something he said. You were suppose to laugh at his jokes, not a random nobody's.

- lovesick!gojo who appears right by your side in the middle of your conversation, sliding an arm around your waist, pouting and batting his eyelashes. "Baby, I thought we had something special :((( 🥺🥺🥺" "Satoru what the fuck."

- lovesick!gojo who grins in victory when the kyoto guy leaves in panic from seeing the affectionate display, but frowns when you scold him for disturbing your conversation. It doesn't matter, he still won and now your attention is on him instead :)

- lovesick!gojo who loves sharing sweets with you. Whenever he bought pastries from your favourite bakery he will always get extra to share with you. He especially loved seeing your face light up whenever he mentioned getting your favourite pastry.

- lovesick!gojo who gets surprised when you always return the favor, always sharing baked goods you bought, even getting the extra sweet ones just for him.

- lovesick!gojo who's ears turn red at the thought of you buying something just for him, no one else.

- lovesick!gojo who swears he will marry you one day, no matter the circumstance, not even the higher ups would stop him. All he need is to ask you out first, but seeing you chuckle as you two shared a chocolate cake, he thought staying by your side is good enough for now. After all, he's not getting cured from this sickness anytime soon.

he's so 🥺❤️😍🥺🤗😚❤️😳🥰❤️ to me

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superluver · 7 months

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Together again | Gojo Satoru

wc: 1282

warnings: MAJOR SPOILER WARNING, SPOILERS FOR SHIBUYA INCIDENT ARC AND MANGA, Chapter 236, mentions of pregnancy(literally one word), FEM!Reader, Wife reader — NOT PROOFREAD

(I didnt put an exact warning because it would literallt give away what happened)

Pairing: Husband!GojoxWife!Reader

desc: You meet with Gojo after two long months

He doesn't remember much, just a blink and he was back as his high school self. A female, hand on her hip, a curious expression written all over her face. Staring at him, she tilted her head. “Satoru? What are you doing here?”

Satoru Gojo wants to laugh, like this was all some cruel joke.

Here you were, in front of him after not having seen your face(though younger) in almost 2 months since the incident in Shibuya— where you died.

He partially blamed himself. He watched you during your last moments, and selfishly, he’s grateful he didn’t actually see your death. His wife, his one and only. He smiles, and laughes as he pulls you in by your waist into a hug. “My boy did so good,” you whisper, allowing him to dig his head further into your torso as you giggle, your own fingers curling in his hair.

You smell exactly the same, like home. A home he never got to give you.

After he’s done being whiny, and well, a child, he pouts, throwing his head back.

“Aw man this is awful!” He shouts, and you laugh. The person he doesn't realize sitting beside him speaks up.

Suguru. His best friend, the one he had to kill, the one that would keep him up at night. The one that—

“Guess you were wrong.” you giggle, and Suguru stares at the two of you like you were keeping a secret joke from him.

You point at him mischievously, “He was all like, when you die you die alone, to his students, but look at the reality of it— well not really reality but still!”

He whines, “(Y/N)!!!”

Suguru breaks the ice, “How was the king of curses?”

Satoru huffs, shaking his head with a half hearted grin. He nods his head so the side, the empty seat beside him— which you take, his hand taking yours while you sit

It’s cold, just like his.

The tip of his nose hits the back of your palm, his eyes are closed before opening halflidded, staring out into the floor. His eyes peer over the overly tinted glasses, responding, “That guy was too damn strong, and he wasn’t even trying.”

It was almost mumbled, like a child complaining. Still holding your hand, he looks at Suguru, “To be completely honest, I don’t think I would even be able win.. regardless if he had Megumi’s cursed technique or not. The guy had too much up his sleeve.”

Your free hand pats his arm, laughing loudly you shake him lightly with a coo, “It’s alright, you’re my loser anyways baby,” you say with pressed eyebrows and puckered lips, almost teasingly.

He rolls his eyes, biting your hand lightly.

“I gave everything I had. Just a little sad you guys weren't there to support me, maybe you would’ve been able to give me a slap on the back to motivate me,” He jokes, shaking his head with closed eyes, imagining Suguru and yourself in the crowd of students.

“I’m glad that he was the one to kill me.” He confessed.

Somebody stronger than me. He wanted to say.

“It’s kind of gross hearing that from you, Gojo. You sound like a samurai general.”

You’re laugher bubbles up from your throat, tears forming as you turn back feom your seat.

“Kento, you’ll never change, will you?” You laugh, watching Satoru smack Nanami on the head multiple times, ruffling his hair in the process. You get up, releasing Satoru’s hand to sit in the seat besides Nanami. Smiling as the seat behind you is now empty.

Shoko.

It was for her, she was the last of the group, and you hope she wouldn't be here for a while.

“I won’t justify him, but I’ll sympathize with you.. I guess..” he mumbles, causing you to slap him on the shoulder with no ill intent, laughter from his stoicness.

“Hey!” Satoru snaps back, and you reach over and pinch his cheek.

“What I’m trying to say is, it was a fitting way to go out, Gojo.”

“You should be morw polite to your Juniors.” You chastise Satoru.

“I was already nice enough to you!” He retorts, and you tilt your head with a smile. His hand takes yours that was clipped to his cheek back in his,

“What was it like for you guys in your last moments?”

You blink, looking around the room.

“It was kind of scary,” you start, and he clenches your hand slightly. He remembers how the two of you split, you pecked him on the cheek with a determined expression, clenching your fist you told him you would be back, before warping to Harajuku. It was the last time he woult see you conscious.

You had crossed paths with Mahito, and you had it under control, until you didn't. Your weak nature, strong virtue, Satoru told you these would get in the way of you becoming a sorcerer, but you would always brush him off, telling him, I’m fine.

But you couldn’t help it, seeing a small girl in the line of Mahito’s path of destruction. Your arm was the price to pay for her life.

And, maybe you had lost too much blood, you cant remember, it’s a blur, but Satoru remembers.

Your leg contorted in a way he coulf only asume was unfoxable, your arm missing, eye streaming blood, you were dead. But his six eyes said you were alive, that you both were. And he was hopeless, tued up by the prisom realm, watching your eyes dim, he watched you die.

“To be honest, I wanted to quit with Kento, but I just couldn't bring myself to leave you alone doing all this. I don’t regret it to the end,” you smile loving at him, and he feels like vomiting.

“I would do this a thousand times over if I got to be with you every time.” You tell him sweetly, and Nanami coughs, “Enough with the sappy shit.” He grumbles.

You laugh again, and stare at Suguru. He looks back at you, and you feel your lips curling back up into a brighter smile. The man who defected, the man who left you all, he was here, and with you all.

“Once,” all attention back to Nanami. “When I was discussing with Mei-san about where I should move, she told me to move North to become someone new, and to move south to stay the person you are. Naturally, I chose South. I think it’s ironic how I died while betting on my future. But it wasn’t too bad because of Haibara.”

Haibara grins, “Aw! You’re too kind!”

“I see..” Satoru says, and you squeeze his hand back. His head snaps upward, looking right in front of him to Yaga, his voice as annoying as ever, “Yo Yaga! I thought you said no sorcerer dies without regrets!”

You laugh, and he laughs back, the room filled with laughter, Riko, Kuroi, Kento and Yu, Suguru, even Yaga.

“Now I’m hoping this isn’t a dream.” He confesses, while standing up, and you smile.

“It’s not, ya big loser!”

You shout, standing up from your chair and throwing yourself over it, crushing him. He falls back onto the ground, and Suguru jumps on top of you, Yu crushing him as Satoru wheezes, and you see him smirk.

“Welcome back!” You grin, Suguru’s face smushed next to your own. Haibara’s chin resting in between the two of yours.

He takes in the scene in front of him, everybody he’s loved all together, and finally, his arms wrap around the three of you, and he’s just so happy, that he doesn’t even Think about going back.

CLEAR MINDSET THIS IS MY REALITY NO ONE TELLS ME OTHERWISE SHUSH

1K notes · View notes

gojossocks · 2 months

Text

New Romantics

Gojo x reader 𐙚 Genre: fluff, comedy, hurt/comfort 𐙚 Summary: You are the bane of Gojo's existence, at least that's what he tells himself. You're just full of surprises and he can't help but be fully enamored by you. 𐙚 wc: 8.5k 𐙚 content: kinda enemies to kinda lovers, a bunch of high schoolers, gojo is soo out of touch with his feelings, it's in his pov, gojo is sooo down bad, PINING, badass reader, reader is in a clan too! reader smokes ! kinda screams im not like other girls in a less toxic way, jealous! gojo, heavy make out, very self-indulgent HAHA can be read as a standalone. 𐙚 a/n: my first ever series ! it's kinda long but i swear it's fun! :D

series masterlist | prologue

Arrogant. Insufferable. Patronizing. Apathetic.

The list goes on.

Granted, Gojo is nowhere near close to you. You were barely friends.

If there is one person in Jujutsu High that he likes the least, it would be you. It’s not like he resents you, it’s just that you represent everything he hated from being in a clan just like him.

From the way you strut your very expensive loafers to the way you shop to your heart’s content after every mission since your first year. Not to mention that you’re the all-perfect princess that your clan wants you to be.

“Gojo, please pass me the p-“

“No can do, shorty.” He chirps, giving you a shit-eating grin.

You glared at him before motioning Shoko to hand you the pen instead. “Gojo, you know you kinda look like someone I like.” You didn’t let him finish, crossing your arms before giving him a devilish smirk. “That cute little rat from Shrek.”

Gojo’s eyes widened at your insult but Suguru and Shoko were already snickering at him. He despises the idea that everyone seems to adore you, except him of course.

In the eyes of the higher ups and your family, you were the sweetest girl ever. Somehow, you’re always growing horns around him.

Everyone thinks that Gojo’s only messing with you whenever the two of you banter. Hell, there are some students gossiping that he has a crush on you (which he definitely doesn’t) But only Geto and Shoko know how much he actually dislikes you.

You seem so obedient with all your clans orders, following everything that’s asked of you, carrying the submissiveness and elegance a Y/L/N is supposed to have. And if there’s anything Gojo hated the most, it’s tradition. It’s why he’s in Jujutsu High in the first place, he wanted to change the system badly— and seeing you become the embodiment of the tradition he badly wants to change pisses him off.

Each time the higher ups get mad at him for not being in his ‘best behavior’, your name is constantly echoed around the meeting room. ‘You should be more like Y/L/N’ ‘Bring honor to your clan like how Y/L/N does.’

The only act of rebellion that you do is that your hair is dyed in a way that would make the higher ups frown. Your hair is recently dyed bright orange. He finds himself scoffing at the idea that you only get scolded because of a damn hair color. Gojo’s also confused with how cunning and sassy you are when there aren’t any prying eyes. Maybe you’re just doing that to seem cool.

Well, he just has to avoid you at all costs so you would stop annoying him and pestering his thoughts.

Unfortunately for him, Yaga has different plans.

“Satoru. Y/N.” Yaga announces when he was pairing up students for a mission but he doesn’t even get to finish because Gojo emits a loud dramatic groan from across the room.

“Why?” He whined, tilting his head up to create a dramatic effect. “It’s always been Suguru and I.”

“Satoru, you and Suguru need to be paired up with someone who's an expert in reversed curse technique. It’s your fault you haven’t learned it yet.”

Gojo crossed his arms and pouted. “Y/N can kiss my ass, teacher.”

“No thanks. I’m sure you don’t wash yours. I could smell you from afar, stinky.” Everyone else groaned as the two of you started another banter, forcing the meeting to be 5 minutes longer than usual— particularly because no one dares to cut off your argument (Yaga is too amused because of how much you put Gojo in his place.)

-.-

The mission didn’t go well. It was the first time you and Gojo worked together, and judging by your huge egos, your banter caused the both of you to get injured– you more so than Gojo. He was too reckless today, attempting to get a reaction out of you, which is why he got caught off guard when a 1st grade curse attacked him.

You pushed him out of the way, causing the curse to land a hit on your shoulder and right arm. Gojo stood still in his place in shock and your right arm was already injured when he snapped out of his trance. He obliterated the curse easily but the damage has been done.

You’re just lucky it was a minor injury but the fact that you did that for him, considering how you two were at each other’s necks for the longest time confuses him. It disoriented him until the both of you arrived at Jujutsu High.

When he got patched up, he stood up to apologize but you were nowhere to be found. He assumes you’ve already healed yourself due to your reverse curse technique ability but he can’t help the nagging feeling in his mind.

You were quiet today— well, ever since this afternoon. And no he’s not keeping track, he’s just not used to not hearing your snarky remarks and sarcastic comebacks at his attempts to annoy the shit out of you.

You’re just ignoring him, giving short insults in response to his own for the most part of your mission until you shielded him from that curse.

His guilt weighs on him heavily as he strolls around the school, waiting for Shoko and Geto. but really it’s just to see you. Gojo had noticed that you’re always gone the moment after your mission’s debriefing, sometimes even when you’re injured.

At last, he saw you just a few blocks away from Jujutsu High, towards the new 7/11 store that opened a few months ago. Gojo tilts his head to the side and furrows his eyebrows before deciding to follow you as discreetly as he could.

He stood near a house behind the convenience store where he could be hidden by a large plant beside it. He watched you grab a few things off the shelves and talk with the cashier, who happily greets you at the counter. You must’ve been here frequently.

1 can of coke. A box of cigarettes. Coffee.

Gojo never took you as the type who would visit a convenience store, as shocking as that sounds. He knows you’re rich. Filthy rich. You’ve always been pampered just like him, everything down at your feet because you’re the most powerful sorcerer in your clan.

Finally, you got out of the store. Gojo’s eyes widened like saucers when you went straight to his hiding spot.

“You know,” You called out, putting a hand on your hip. “It surprises me how much of an idiot you are despite being a notorious smartass. Your hair sticks out of the leaves because you’re so fucking tall, Gojo.”

“Heh.” He rubs his nape sheepishly, offering you a shy grin. “Didn’t think you’d see me.”

“Really?” You deadpan before walking away from him, back to Jujutsu High. He jogs up to your side. “Why are you hiding anyway? Spying on your rival or something?”

“Maybe.” He says lightly. It’s the first time any of you are talking normally to each other without malice. “Where are you going?”

“Somewhere.”

“Can I come?” He insisted, voice filled with excitement, leaving no hint that he’s gonna stop following you. A smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

He looks like a puppy, following you around. It’s an amusing sight, even to you.

“No.” You still kept walking, paying no mind as Gojo continued to follow you.

He feels an unusual giddiness at the thought that you hadn’t outright pushed him away because if you really wanted to, you would have told him to leave.

You lead him to the abandoned fence with the sign ‘DO NOT ENTER’ in the restricted building of the school that had remained under construction for years. It was the tallest building in Jujutsu High. You wordlessly went up to the concealed stairs at the obscured side of the building and onto the rooftop.

You sat at the edge of the building, your feet dangling off the edge. Gojo cautiously followed your actions, opting to sit next to you. He observes you as you unravel bit by bit and it’s the first time he’s seen you this relaxed and vulnerable—something that you granted him the privilege to see.

Rummaging through your paper bag, you retrieved a can of his favorite drink, Coca-Cola. As you handed it to him, a subtle surprise flashed across his face before he muttered a sincere ‘thanks.

You then opened your box of Marlboro red and lit up a cigarette, putting it in between your lips before taking a drag. Gojo observes you silently, his mouth agape. It was a revelation, discovering facets of you that he never anticipated. The act of you casually smoking, the ember casting a faint glow on your features, added another layer to the enigma that you are.

Gojo stays silent for a few more minutes or so until you notice his confusion, mainly because his eyebrows are almost meeting and he’s staring intently into the abyss.

“Are you broken or something? You usually never stop yapping.” You joked, bumping your shoulder to his.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Gojo says dumbfoundedly.

You chuckled but his question was left unanswered. He forgets about it completely because his brain short circuits when you move closer to him, taking off his sunglasses and perching it atop his head. His radiant baby blue eyes are out staring at you intently.

You give him a soft smile and point at the view in front of you. “I love going here after missions, sunset’s beautiful here.”

“you’re being nice to me. Why?”

Again. No answer. You just hummed in amusement and no words were spoken afterwards.

The sun begins to descend, casting a warm, golden glow over the view from below. The city sprawls out beneath the both of you and the skyline extends into the horizon, bleeding in hues of pink and orange. Both of you sit in silence and when Gojo turns to look at you, he feels his heart beat quickening every passing second.

You look so breathtaking as the remaining sunlight kisses your skin, creating a halo effect around you. He suddenly doesn’t know why his palms feel so sweaty and he can’t manage to land a punchline to make you roll your eyes playfully at him.

“I’m sorry I got distracted. Thank you for saving me today. I didn’t know you’d be more…” He trails off and you cut him off with a laugh so pretty enough that his head whipped to turn to you.

“Kind? Human? You think I’m just like my clan huh?” You giggled and it shocked him how light you’re taking the situation.

You must’ve gotten used to it.

Just like him.

You stayed silent for a while before speaking in a serious tone. “Just because I don’t defy my clan’s ideals freely as you do doesn’t mean I’m not against it. When you’re a woman, you have to play nice, you know? I don’t have much of a choice unlike you. I know you don’t like me but I shielded you because you’re my friend.”

It was a wonder for Gojo that he’s the only one you’re not on good terms with out of everyone in Jujutsu High. Hell, he even overheard Yaga asking you to call back those Kyoto Students. It’s a big deal because those pesky Kyoto Students are usually their rivals but for some reason they’re always looking for you.

Then comes the Tokyo students, whom he never sees not greeting you or asking to hang out with you. Come to think of it, their expressions are always brightening up whenever you’re around and he thought that maybe they’re not that welcoming to him because he’s loud. But it’s you. It’s all you.

From the way you listen intently to your friends, and your saccharine voice asking them about their day or whatever that piques their interest. You care, a lot. You even saved him from that grade 1 curse, resulting in a painful wound on your shoulder. Granted, you had the ability to heal yourself but who was he even in your life? and yet you took the fall for him.

Gojo always hated that everyone seemed to look at him as that ‘six-eyed kid from the Gojo clan’. He hated the rumors about him just because of your last name— something that he has done to you since the first time you stepped foot into the school.

He swallows his guilt and sets his pride aside. He wanted nothing more than to make it up to you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve read you wrong. I thought you were just like the rest of them.”

“It’s alright.” You say nonchalantly as possible but the voice crack at the end gives you away. Gojo chooses to ignore that. This probably means a lot to you as much as it did to him. “I mean I get it, I actually admire your passion for changing the way our clans lead the Jujutsu World. I think you have the guts for standing up to them just like that.”

“You really think so?’ He scoots closer and gives you a small smile, his heartbeat quickening faster as he feels your warmth— your thighs almost touching.

“Yeah.” You grinned back, leaning your wait to his side before taking a sip from your coffee.

“So you think I’m pretty?” He looks at you and bats his eyelashes comedically.

You snorted in response and slapped his arm lightly. “I’ll throw you off this building.”

Gojo forgot the passage of time in those 4 hours at that rooftop. The sun had already set and the moon was gleaming, already dark out. He likes talking to you but he enjoys it more when you’re the one doing the talking.

You talked about your school life, hobbies, even your life with your clan– anything that comes to mind. Talking to you is as easy as breathing. You’re just full of wisdom, kindness, and wit.

Gojo found out today that he actually likes making you laugh, something about it makes his stomach feel funny. He also found out your preferences in coffee, food, and even music.

“Don’t you dare tell that spot to anyone, Gojo.” You took one of the sweets in his hands and popped it in your mouth before giving him a teasing grin.

You’re now walking side by side on the way to the dormitory. He insisted on walking you to your dorm even if his dorm is from the other side of the building.

A chuckle escaped his lips as he matched your stride. “Yes, Ma’am.” He replied with a teasing voice, earning a hum of approval from you. You finally stopped in front of your door.

“Thank you Goj-”

“Satoru.” He cut you off, his voice suddenly softening. As you tilted your head inquisitively, he found himself breaking into another warm smile. His cheeks ached from smiling too much this evening. “You can call me Satoru instead.”

“I like saying Gojo, especially when I yell your name when I’m mad at you.”

“Are you mad at me right now?” He wiggles his eyebrows, earning a playful roll of your eyes in response.

“No.”

His demeanor shifted then, almost like he’s surrendering his vulnerability to you. “Then call me Satoru.” You could almost hear the plea in his voice.

You sigh in mock defeat, your lips curved into a smile as you relented to his request. “Okay, Satoru.”

-.-

“You’re barely hanging out with me anymore, Satoru. Have you found my replacement already?” Suguru says, smirking as he watches his best friend’s eyes widened— a blush adorning Satoru's cheeks.

Satoru fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, causing Suguru to smirk at him. This behavior definitely did not go unnoticed by his best friend. Rarely did Satoru ever get nervous and Suguru was all for it.

“I was just busy, Suguru. You missed me that much? I didn’t know I am participating in a homosexual relationship with you—” He retorted, attempting to deflect Suguru.

But Suguru wasn’t one to let him off the hook easily. “Busy hogging Y/N?”

Satoru scoffed, giving him a look of disbelief. “Pffft. Nah. Of course not. We’re friends!” He insisted, though the way his gaze momentarily flickered away betrayed a hint of something more.

It has been nearly 6 months since that evening on the rooftop. Satoru and you have been attached to the hip ever since— or to phrase it better, Satoru has been attached to you ever since. Somehow, you’re a lot more similar than he thinks and because of that, you just know each other a lot deeper.

He also finds himself doing things out of pure interest like walking with you to the 7/11 store after mission just to talk to you til dusk on that rooftop, completely forgetting about his friend group’s game nights. Other times, he reaches for your wrist to encourage you to mingle with other people. He even accompanies you to your monthly shopping sprees in the city or in Shinjuku or Shibuya. He found out you love traveling and going to other places— it clears your mind, you had said. His closet is now full of clothes you helped him pick out, almost half of them you bought for him randomly.

It’s normal for friends to do that, right?

Seated side by side, Satoru and Suguru observed how you and Shoko practiced your reverse cursed technique. Satoru’s just munching on the sweets you bought for him while his best friend is clearly enjoying the view of how dumbstruck he is by you.

“Satoru,” he began. “You’re always following her around, it’s like you’re glued to each other already and you even fell asleep together during movie nights more than 3 times already. The only time you’re not with her is when you’re on missions with me or lunch. Are you already secretly dating?”

“Yeah, we’re not!” Satoru says swiftly and defensively, causing Suguru to raise an eyebrow at him. “Why are you keeping count anyway?”

“Sure, just friends.” Suguru insisted, attempting to downplay the whole situation but Satoru is already growing agitated with the way he’s being teased. Suguru gave him a devilish smirk. “What if she dates another guy?”

Satoru shuts up for a minute before muttering a quiet “… She won’t.”

“You don’t sound sure. She eventually will.” Suguru gave him an all-knowing smile and that’s when he knew that Suguru was being serious.

“Huh?” Satoru furrowed his eyebrows, casting an accusing look at his best friend. “How are you so sure?”

“Shoko said she’s going on dates.”

Oh.

So that’s why he’s been seeing you less, and you seem so distracted whenever you guys would hang out. Satoru thought that you were just busy but he didn’t think you’d actually go on dates with anyone. I mean, you’re still young right? Besides, who would be deserving of you?

Satoru didn’t notice that he was staring daggers into Shoko as you hugged her tightly. His expression darkened, jealousy flashing in his eyes before softening as he heard you laugh.

Pretty.

You look so pretty.

Since when did he find you incredibly pretty?

Sure, you were just friends but he doesn’t know why he has this urge to be with you all the time, he even wants to hug you like how you hug Shoko and Utahime. It’s just unfair that you only lean to him or give him a fist bump or when you fall asleep with your head on his shoulder.

He longs to hold you close, to see you every morning, and to be the person that makes you laugh all the time.

And when you noticed him staring you beamed at him and waved.

Oh, he definitely has a crush on his friend.

He didn’t know how much time passed but soon enough his day wouldn’t be completed without seeing you. He actually looks forward now to the meeting with different plans, particularly because you were there with him. And he basically lives now in your dorm room, candy wrappers everywhere and an array of his glasses sit beside your bedside table.

You talk about anything, even the random thoughts that come to his mind. You managed to know him better than Suguru knows him, which is surprising by the way.

But during the past week, he surprisingly didn’t see you— not even at the rooftop that you both had grown to hang out together. Suguru told him that he acts like he has a ‘stick up his ass’ but he was just worried about you. Have you grown tired of him? It all made him fidget like crazy.

Satoru caught a glimpse of your bright blue hair after your mission with Suguru. It was the kind of blue that matches his eyes. But he didn’t pay attention to it that much because of your sullen look.

He tried looking for you at the convenience store or your dorm but you were already gone so his last bet is at the rooftop, and there you are.

Your back is facing him with your feet dangling off the edge, you seem to be in your own world judging by the loud music he’s hearing. There are two packs of cigarettes by your side and a can of your favorite coffee. The sun is almost setting again and you’re just staring ahead while you hum along to the song you're listening to. The view seems so… sad. He felt something tug at his heart strings.

“You know you should quit smoking. if you keep it, you’ll never see me old handsome.” He tried to joke off before climbing the edge to sit next to you. He took off his glasses before wincing at the view, it was too bright so he decided to put it on again.

You giggled in response, he can tell that you saw right through him when you had a soft look in your face. The both of you hadn’t quite reached the stage where you’re entirely comfortable with opening up to one another.

So he tried to lighten up the mood once more, “It actually diminishes your ability as a sorcerer.”

“Says who?”

“Says yoda” He responded rhetorically before giving you a lopsided grin.

You nodded before taking out your lighter to light up your cigarette. “I only smoke when I’m stressed.” You confessed.

“Oh?” Satoru asks

“Yeah” You smiled at him, taking a drag from your cigarette, sighing when the nicotine hit your system.

“Then we’ll do something else, yeah?” He grinned at you mischievously before pointing his index. “Wait.”

With a quick rummage through his pockets, he brought out a handful of brightly colored lollipops, their wrappers crinkling softly in his hand.

“What do you have in mind?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

Satoru extended his hand, offering you a lollipop with a playful wink. “Something sweeter?”

He gives you a toothy grin—his eyes sparkling when you take it, shaking your head at his enthusiasm.

“This is ridiculous,” You laughed, amused by his antics as you unwrapped the sweet treat and popped it into your mouth.

“It works, right?” Satoru asked eagerly.

He’s been searching for alternative ways for nicotine but he couldn’t find any gum in the 7/11 store. Lollipops are his last choice.

“I don’t know. Isn’t it gum that lessens the nic addiction?” You countered, bumping your shoulder against his.

“Lollipops are an alternative,” He says defensively, though a hint of concern crept up to his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, uhm. It just gets tiring sometimes, you know?” You responded, bitterness lacing your voice. “ All the pressure. Sometimes I feel like I’m not treated humanely at one point.”

“Hey. I’ll help you okay?” He placed a hand on your shoulder before offering you a soft smile. “When you’re with me, you don’t have to please those old geezers.”

“I appreciate it, Satoru.” You smiled back at him and he found himself melting in your gaze. The sun be damned, he could live alone in your presence.

You decided to leave when it’s already half past eight. Once he helped you to his feet you looked at him shyly, and if it’s a bit lighter out he would see a blush creeping up to your face. The walk back to your dorm is silent again, your hands just occasionally brush and Satoru wondered if you think about holding his hand too.

So when you let him in your dorm like you usually do. Satoru hesitated for a moment before he mustered up the courage and asked, “Is it okay if I hug you?”

He noticed you freeze and he feared that he might have overstepped, but before he could retract his words, you’re already nodding and he instinctively wrapped his arms around you. Satoru hears you sigh in the hug and he feels like he’s floating when you tug him closer.

Satoru prayed silently that you couldn’t hear the loud thumping of his heart because he finally has you in his arms and this is all he wanted. The warmth of your body against his, the way you leaned into his touch, it all felt surreal to him.

You’ve finally let your guard down around him and he noticed you gradually open up to him when you’re feeling sad or disappointed with something. Somehow he can’t bring himself to be like that to you yet, Satoru has this underlying feeling that you’d like him less if he starts showing vulnerability.

But to his surprise, he feels like you like him more because of that. There was this instance where he’s so overstimulated after a mission because he had to take off his glasses to work on his six eyes. He started to become dizzy and everything around him was a blur.

As he sat on the couch, feeling utterly overwhelmed and disoriented after the mission. Despite his attempts to mask his discomfort with a feeble smile, you saw right through him, as you always seemed to do.

“Satoru, are you okay?” Your voice cut through the haze of his senses, casting him a worried glance.

He managed a strained smile before the brightness around him intensified, sending a sharp pang through his temples. "I'm...I'm fine," he mumbled.

“Satoru, you’re not a good liar.” You stood up to turn off the lights, only leaving the night lamp on, a soft glow illuminating the entire room, making it bearable for Satoru. He’s rubbing his temples, trying to ease the pain.

He feels a weight dip in the couch, you gently remove his glasses and place them on the nearby table. Then, without warning, your arms enveloped him in a warm embrace, guiding his head to rest against the crook of your neck, fully covering his eyes.

Now that he’s calmed down, Satoru became acutely aware of the closeness between you. He’s lucky that you can’t see how his eyes widened at your action and how flushed he probably looks right now. Well, not that he can see anything right now.

But he chooses to ignore the loud beating of his heart again, passing it off as adrenaline rush from the mission. He allows himself to relax in your hold, with your fingers threading softly through his hair, all his worries and fatigue melted away.

Gojo Satoru had never known romantic love, let alone had a crush on anyone. So maybe it was just normal for friends to hold each other when one is tired or in need of comfort.

He loves to play with your hand when both of you are alone, while he babbles about something random and outright weird just so he could ignore how you make him feel. He tries to ignore the blush creeping up on his face when you listen to him intently, like every word that he utters matters, no matter how ridiculous it was. His feet always drag him to you because after a long day, all he needs is cuddles from you— oh, and your soothing voice too.

So really, what is this weight on his chest when Shoko announced that you’re going on a date?

Why is he pouting suddenly, assaulting his food as he stabs it continuously while you are gushing about what to wear or what to say when he knows you just look so beautiful even without trying?

Isn’t he enough?

Satoru buys you stuff, he takes care of you, he knows everything about you. He’s always hanging at your dorm after school, you’re practically like a couple at this poi–

Shit.

Maybe he does have a crush on you.

“I don’t know why you’d bother going on a date, Y/N. Guys are basically disgusting.”

“Says a guy.” You rolled your eyes playfully while going through your closet.

Satoru’s getting desperate now, why are you so adamant to get on that date?

Satoru felt a knot of desperation tightening in his chest as he watched you model your top three dresses. The first dress, adorned with vibrant florals, seemed to scream "first date" with its playful charm. However, you quickly dismissed it as unsuitable for the dinner date you had planned. Next, you slipped into a simple yet elegant black bodycon dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. It was hard to ignore the bitterness he’s feeling— you getting dolled up for a random guy.

But it was the final dress that truly captured his heart. As you twirled around to show him, the white silk fabric cascading gracefully around you, Satoru found himself momentarily breathless at the sight. Your awkward smile only added to the enchantment of the moment. You look so ethereal.

"What do you think?" you asked, swaying gently as you admired yourself in the mirror.

"I—" Satoru cleared his throat, his voice suddenly dry as he struggled to find the right words. "I think I like the other one better, the black one," he managed to say, though his heart whispered otherwise.

You somehow listened to his advice and wore the black bodycon dress that he suggested.

You looked nothing short of breathtaking, a literal goddess.

It was the longest 3 hours of his life, each passing minute feeling like an eternity as he anxiously wait for your return. Despite his best effort to distract himself by distracting Suguru, his thoughts kept returninhg to you— wondering if you’re having the time of your life with your date.

A small part of him wishes that the date didn’t go well and you’ll just spent the rest of the evening eating sweets with him all the while casting funny remarks on your date but he wasn’t prepared when you came home with mascara running down your face, your lips curved into a pout, and your eyes puffy and red from crying.

Without a word, Satoru stood up to engulf you in his arms, furrowing his eyebrows as you collapsed into him. “What happened, Y/N?”

He held you close, a surge of protectiveness flooding his senses as if an attempt to shield you from the world.

“He’s a misogynist, Satoru!” You cried, your voice cracking. “So full of himself! I thought he was kind and sweet but then he just started babbling about his clan and how good of a potential husband he is. As if I want to marry him!”

“Who was he anyway?” He gently wiped away your tears.

“Naoya Zenin” You sniffled, playing with the hem of his shirt. “I’m sorry I’m staining your shirt.”

“No, no.” He whispered, brushing away the strands of your hair on your face.

He took a mental note to research on the guy that made you cry later on. He realizes that the sight that he despises the most is the sight of you crying. He never wants to see you like this, ever.

“You said you like the beach right?” Satoru spoke out of the blue, his hand tracing circles on your arm. “Why don’t we go to one?”

-.-

And that’s how Satoru managed to spend all of his monthly allowance in a week. He booked a flight for the 6 of you (of course he wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea, he insisted it’s a vacation for the six of you— him, you, Suguru, Shoko, and even Utahime and Mei Mei because apparently you’re good friends with them too)

So now here he is, about 200, 000 yen poorer. (help i don’t know if this is accurate) He wanted what’s best for you, so of course he’d spend a lot for you. It was all worth it though, when he sees you in a baby blue bathing suit that he helped you pick out. No it was definitely not because it’s similar to the color of his eyes. Blue just suits you well. (Hence, he’s also suitable for you)

“Satoru, you're going to catch flies if your mouth keeps hanging like that. Hey, are you also drooling?” Suguru pokes Satoru, who quickly straightens up when you look his way.

You gave him a sheepish smile, and he didn’t know what the fuck you’re doing to him because he feels a hard on coming his way. Shoko notices Satoru’s flushed expression but she just continues to smoke, clearly enjoying the show.

Eventually, everyone agrees to swim in the beach and try on the jet skis that Satoru had rented. What he didn’t know though, was the fact that you’re afraid of the ocean.

You were just hugging yourself while the waves crashed against your feet. The sight looks so cute but he wants you to enjoy it, so he uses his tactics to get you to join the group.

Unfortunately for him, you’re so stubborn to stay on the shore.

“I don’t want to go, Satoru! It’s not funny! I might get eaten alive by megalodon sharks or something.”

“C’mon! I’m really tall, I can protect you! Jesus, here—” His hand intertwined with yours, causing you to blush profusely. “Just hold my hand, okay? Hell, hold onto me if you like. I can carry you!”

“Your hands are uhm, really warm.” You commented, your voice tinged with embrassment.

“Oh yeah?” He smirks at you, his gaze locking with yours. “You want me to warm you up?”

“I’m gonna kill you.” You deadpanned.

Despite your protests, you ended up trusting him to pull you in the deeper part of the ocean. He even managed to get you to ride the jetski with him, the grip you had on his waist nearly suffocating him.

Satoru didn’t want to focus on the closeness between you two— your body pressed up against his back. If he does, he might lose control and drop the both of you into the ocean.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group is observing the two of you while sipping on their Margaritas.

“God, these two.” Mei Mei muttered as she rolls her eyes. “Best slow burn romance I’ve ever seen for free.”

If anyone would glance at you and Satoru, they would immediately think you’re dating, but you’re not and it’s frustrating to anyone within your radius.

Besides her, Shoko chimed in, her voice laced with amusement. “It’s so painfully obvious that they like each other. They were comparing hand sizes earlier for god’s sake.”

“Yeah, they should just fuck already.”

-.-

“Okay, so you kiss the person the bottle’s pointing at.” Utahime explained excitedly, albeit a bit drunk.

Everyone’s gathering around the crackling bonfire bonfire, the warm glow casting dancing shadows across the sand. It was now nearing midnight and you decided to play a game to end the night, which is spin the bottle. You spent all afternoon swimming and riding the jet skis Satoru rented.

Satoru felt a bead of sweat form on his brow as the bottle nearly lands you and Suguru.

He wanted your first kiss to be with him, as selfish as that sounds. He internally cursed Shoko for suggesting this game.

It landed on Shoko and Utahime, then Shoko and Suguru, then Mei Mei and Utahime.

His nervousness escalated as the game continues. Satoru was busy praying that the bottle wouldn’t land on you and anyone that he failed to notice when the bottle finally came to a stop, pointing directly at you and him.

“Ooooh” Utahime teased you, playfully poking your arm. “It’s you and Gojo!”

You laughed nervously, shooting a helpless glance in Satoru’s direction. He wanted to protest but his curiosity outweighed his embarrassment.

He wanted to know how it feels like to kiss you.

Besides, it’s just a kiss, right?

Satoru was stunned when you hurriedly pecked him on the lips before you retreated back to your seat. His mind raced as he tries to process the fleeting touch.

He just kissed you.

He couldn’t believe it when you looked back at him with a subtle smile playing in your lips.

The rest of the night was a blur for him, not because he was drunk. Satoru’s a lightweight and you know that fact, that’s why you were drinking for him.

While everyone else is playing games and talking about anything, his mind is still stuck on the fact that you kissed him

You’re his first kiss.

And he's yours too,

The gods had answered his prayers. But that was barely a kiss in the first place, do you even want it or were you just pressured to do it?

The thought stings. So he took a couple of sips from Suguru’s beer bottle until he was tipsy enough to not think about your lips on his. Yet, with each glance in your direction, the memory of your lips on his persisted.

-.-

Satoru helped you go to your room, even if he’s a bit drunk himself. Both of you were stumbling on the way to your room, but he thankfully he managed to settle you down on the bed as gently as he could. His attempt to withdraw was no use as you pulled him down with you, your grip firm yet gentle as you clutched his hand in your sleep.

Satoru admired your sleeping state, your hair sprawled out messily on the bed and you’re gripping his hand.

Your mouth slightly open as you slept, emitting soft rhythmic breaths but then you started mumbling something—it first it was incoherent until you mumbled in a slur, “I think you’re cute.”

“Huh?” Satoru questioned, even though he heard you clearly. He just want to hear it again from you.

“I said I think you look like a sack of shit. Fuck you.” You clarified, your words still slightly intelligible and laced with frustration and humor.

“Uh-huh.” He replied, feigning ignorance, his heart fluttering at your words. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Satoru brushed a few stray strands of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering momentarily against your skin.

“You know,” You started, your words slurring as you looked at him with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my first kiss. It was really good even if it just lasted a second. Thank you for today, toru.”

He laughed at your intoxicated state. You just look so adorable when you’re relaxed like this, the way your features softened and your laughter bubble up freely without a care in the world.

His gaze drifted to your lips, they seemed to beckon him to give in. He definitely wants to kiss you now.

Satoru’s heart raced as he struggled to fight the urge to lean in, knowing that it was a dangerous game to play. You decided to take matters in your own hands, shifting closer to him, your face close enough that he could feel you breathe against him.

“Please, ‘Toru.” You whispered, your lips barely touching. “Please kiss me again.”

Who was he to deny you that? To deny you?

When Satoru kissed you for the second time, he took his time to savor it. His hand reaches out to cup your cheek and brushes his lips against yours.

Your lips are warm and soft, he wanted to kiss it for eternity. Literally. He feels like in cloud nine as he kisses you deeper, slipping his tongue inside as you parted your lips, earning a soft moan from you.

Satoru weight settled against you, your bodies pressed together, breathing heavily as he connected his lips against yours once more.

You taste better than any candy he has ever tasted. He might just get addicted, drunk even.

“We shouldn’t—” He sighs into your mouth. You whimpered when he pulled away, your sweet voice going straight through his dick. “I don’t want to do this like this.”

“What” a kiss. “Do” followed by another, “You,” then another “Mean?” then another.

You were peppering kisses all over his face all the while carding your hand through his hair, tugging it a bit to earn a reaction from him. He almost lost it when you squeezed him through his boxers.

Satoru managed to pull away which he clearly struggled on doing when you pout at him, lips swollen and covered with saliva and you’re looking at him with those damned doe eyes.

He pecks your lips, both of your cheeks, and he places a final kiss on your forehead, afraid that if he does more, he won’t be able to contain himself.

Satoru wants his first time with you to be special, one that’s not hazy and easy to forget. He doesn’t want it to be a mistake, like what he knows the both of you would agree upon if you talked about it in the morning.

He wanted you to remember, have it engraved in your mind and body for weeks. Satoru wants you to want him as much as he wants you, and he can’t have that in a drunken mistake.

As you both drifted together in your sleep, he held you close, his arms wrapping snugly around your waist. It was the best sleep he had in ages.

-.-

Satoru’s fear came true when you pretended like nothing happened the next morning. When he awoke, it feels like last night never happened. Your side of the bed is fixed and the only proof that you were ver there was the ache he felt on his arm, where you were laying. Sure, he was disappointed but he’s contented with anything you give him. As long as he has you by his side.

The kiss never left his mind, though.

Not even when you reached third year and you drifted apart from him little by little. His feelings for you remains the same.

When Satoru is paired up again with you for a mission in the second half of your third year, you seem different from the Y/N he remembers. Particularly because you act like the exact person that he met in your first year.

Only, you look dull.

There are heavy circles under your eyes, your lips are chapped, and you look like you’re barely holding it together. Not to mention the only words that you utter to him are only about the mission.

He got too busy honing his skills with Suguru, but he would make time for you if only you asked. But it’s like you were gone, everytime he tried to look for you, you were nowhere to be found. It’s like he barely knows you anymore.

You started to ignore him at the beginning of the school year. He noticed that you dyed your hair back to its natural color and whenever he goes.

You became a ghost in a way, and he’s left with the pieces of you that you once had shared with him. Satoru desperately wants to reach you but how can he when you’re always away? He doesn’t see you in your meeting spot anymore, you’re not in your dorm, no one gets close to you. The only time he sees you is during meetings with the higher ups and your clan.

There’s an ache in his heart that only you can heal.

So before you can run away from him again, he followed your footsteps until you reached the 7/11 store across the street. So here you are scanning along the shelves of the store, even though he knows you already know what you’re going to buy. You still haven’t noticed him, which is confusing on his part. You must’ve been so tired.

Ah, an energy drink and a box of cigarettes.

Well, maybe you’ve started avoiding him too because of that. You know he’s going to get worried.

Satoru taps your shoulder, making you yelp. You were about to shout at him but your expression softened when you saw him. “Oh, it’s just you.”

It’s the first time in months where he actually saw you up close. He misses you so much it actually makes him dizzy. Satoru stares at you for a few minutes before you poked him.

“Hello? Earth to Satoru?”

He hasn’t heard you say his name too in a while. It felt like a breath of fresh air

“You dyed your hair back to its natural color.” He pointed out.

You hummed in response before going to the drink section once more. He observes you skimming the shelves even though he knows what you’re going to buy.

You’re just passing the time because you’re too anxious to talk to him but you aren’t really good at small talks.

So he does that for you.

As you mechanically scanned the shelves, your eyes not really registering the array of products before you, Satoru noticed the evident anxiety in your every move. Wanting to bridge the gap between you two, he seized the opportunity to make you smile.

“ah yes, there’s some items on sale here.” He declared, rubbing his chin with his pointer and thumb comically.

Your quizzical expression met his as you questioned, “I don’t see any.”

Undeterred, Satoru held up a familiar item – your favorite coffee – and flashed a grin "Here," he insisted, pointing at the non-existent 'sale' label.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "It's on sale. Look. It says, 'buy one take me.'" He gestured to the imaginary tag with a theatrical flair, his infectious grin inviting you to roll your eyes at him.

Finally, you gave him a smile and you threw your head back because you’re laughing so hard. “You’re ridiculous, Gojo Satoru.”

Satoru's heart skipped a beat at the sight of your smile, a warmth spreading through him at the sight of your genuine laughter. He likes seeing you smile. He’d do anything to see you smile. Even if it’s making a fool out of himself.

You grabbed his favorite drink and 2 onigiris then you dropped your energy drink. You walked towards the counter with him following closely behind.

After you’ve paid for the food, you led him wordlessly to the back of the convenience store towards the small parking lot and you sat on the ground.

“Besides, I can’t take you.” You broke the silence, handing him his coca-cola with a tremulous smile.

“What do you mean? You’ve already taken me for granted.” Satoru attempts to joke, but his playful expression dropped when you gave him a sad smile.

“I’m getting married next year after graduation.”

Satoru suddenly felt as if the ground had dropped from beneath him. The news struck him like a blow to the chest, leaving him breathless. He chewed on his lip as he took in your confession.

So that’s why you’ve been busy.

That’s why the higher ups paid no mind to all of his minor mishaps. His heart and mind raced, why so soon? Are you really going to let them take away your right to decide who you’ll marry?

“To who?” He said quietly, fidgeting with the lid of his soda.

“Naoya Zenin.”

A wave of disbelief washed over Satoru’s face. He had only met the guy once but he knows that Zenin is an absolute prick, not to mention a misogynist and a weakling. He even made you cry on a date. But he tried to relax his jaw and stay composed for you. “Do you want to marry him?”

“No.” Your answer was swift, the word laden with a weight he could feel in his bones.

“Then don’t.” Satoru says firmly. Both of you fell silent for a while, you being defeated with the destiny your clan have paved for you.

Could he really let you go just like that? To a Zenin asshat nonetheless?

He had always imagined that the two of you would eventually end up together, you have all the time in the world after all. So why does it feel like you’re already slipping out of his arms? He’s not even sure if you like him, despite what Suguru and Ieri keep telling him.

His train of thoughts were interrupted when you leaned your head on his shoulder. His arm instinctively finds its way around you, as if shielding you from your clan, from the world. “I wish it were that simple. Nearly everything I do for my family is never what I want. I simply can’t not do it, Satoru. I need it to keep my clan powerful and relevant. I’m the only daughter of my parents. I have to do my best to make them proud.”

“Well…” He stammers a little bit when your hand finds a way to play with his hair. “what about what you want?”

“Satoru, you know my freedom is limited." You laughed bitterly. “I’m still Y/L/N’s golden child and my clan’s on the brink of exclusion at this point. We’re irrelevant now and I’m not getting any stronger or richer. My family wants to take their place in the Jujutsu World. This is something I can’t escape from anymore even if I’d rather die than to be married to someone like him.”

“Why Naoya Zenin though?” He’s getting frustrated at this point. Why were you not fighting back? Satoru couldn’t accept that, you relinquishing your freedom for the sake of others. You have already done so much.

“He’s from a well-off clan and he’s strong.” you replied, a note of bitterness tainting your words. “My dad’s also biased with the Zenin clan so… I’m all set.”

Well, he’s a Gojo and he is the strongest. He is the inheritor of the six eyes anyway. Who is Naoya Zenin compared to him?

“Well then, can you marry someone else that’s also strong?”

You scoffed, your hand leaving his hair before you prompt to fully lean your entire weight on Satoru’s side. “Yeah, but I don’t have much of a choice in the matter. Who else would I mar-”

It’s now or never.

“Me.” Satoru blurted out.

“What?”

“Me. you should just marry me instead.”

Wanna read more?

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x reader fluff #jjk fanfic #gojo fic #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo series #gojo angst

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irisintheafterglow · 9 months

Text

Never Grow Up (gojo x you)

summary: on the first night megumi is in gojo's care, you give the kid some things to help him sleep.

word count: 2k

cw/tags: friends to lovers, mild language, mentions of toji and satoru's fight with toji, mentions of food, fluffy fluffy fluff

note: i'm such a sucker for co-parenting megumi with satoru, that's it. hope you enjoy!

likes/reblogs/feedback is appreciated <3

“Surprise! Your favorite is here now!” A melodic voice rings out behind you in the courtyard, and you skeptically cross your arms in front of your chest as you turn to face him. He pouts at your serious expression, frowning down at you over the rim of his sunglasses. “Why the face?”

“Where’s the kid?”

“I asked first, but he’s fine.” He draws out the last vowel, throwing his head to the side casually. You track his lanky, carefree movements with a narrow stare that Suguru would be proud of. “I put him in one of the spare rooms for the night.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief. “And then you just left him?”

“Like I said, he’ll be fine. He’s a tough kid.” He gives you one of those heart-stuttering sly grins, but you’re too exasperated to dwell on how handsome he looked.

“He’s four, Satoru, and fatherless. You’re not doing very well with this whole ‘mentor’ thing so far.” You shake your head, turning on your heel and heading for the dorms. Satoru falls into step next to you, still attempting to flirt some affection out of you, but you’re unbreakable. “Remind me his name again?”

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“And his dad–”

“Tried to kill me.”

“But you–”

“Killed his dad, and bought him from the Zenin clan to train here.” He finishes your sentences naturally and patiently, opening the door for you as you approach the boys’ dorms. “I put him in here,” Satoru says, guiding you through the halls to a room in the back corner of the building.

“You really put him all by himself in the back?” Your chest hurt at the idea of a little elementary school boy alone in the dank halls of the building.

“Nanami said he didn’t want to be bothered by a child all night.” Of course he did, and of course, Satoru listened.

“Neither of you know how to handle children. Where’s his sister?”

“With relatives on his mom’s side. I’ll be in contact with them at some point.” You nod, reaching for the door handle when he stops you, slender fingers wrapping around your wrist. “Whatcha doing?”

“I’m gonna talk to him, Satoru. Sorcerer or not, he’s probably terrified of being in a new place with people he doesn’t know.” A thoughtful look crosses Satoru’s face, and he reluctantly releases you.

“Fine. But be warned; he’s not the most talkative kid.” He shrugs, leaning against the dead end of the hallway to wait.

You find Megumi lying awake on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Spiky black hair falls around his face, and the blanket looks oversized for his small body. He sits up carefully when you open the door, pulling back the covers and sitting cross legged as you kneel in front of him.

“Hi, Megumi.” He’s silent, eyeing you warily with a guarded expression. You smile warmly and look at him as softly as possible. God knows how Satoru was acting with him before he came to you. You introduce yourself and watch his eyes twinkle when you mention that you’re a student at Jujutsu Tech. “I’m the same age as Satoru, that guy who brought you here.”

“He’s weird.”

You can’t help snickering, especially when you know that Satoru was probably eavesdropping from the other side of the wall. The scowl plastered across his face is probably very entertaining. “I know; he is pretty weird. But you’ll grow to like him, I promise. Are you hungry?”

“No. He bought me McDonalds.”

“I see. What’s your favorite thing at McDonalds?”

“I like chicken. He ate four burgers.” His voice stays relatively even, but the corner of his mouth quirks up when he describes the ungodly amount of Big Macs Satoru consumed.

“Yeah, he’s…like that. Well, I just wanted to check on you before you fell asleep, if you needed anything? A glass of water or something?” Megumi falls silent, eyes flicking around the room anxiously. He wrings his fingers, adjusting his seat on the bed and avoiding your gaze. He must have been nervous to be sleeping in a new place, in a bed he didn’t know and surrounded by strangers.

You redirect your attention to the open air beside you, spreading your fingers and summoning a small black portal on the floor. “I have a few things for you, if you’d like them.” Despite his hesitancy, innocent eyes peek over the edge of the bed to the void on the floor, fascinated. You reach your hand into the portal, feeling the cold air on your forearm while you rummage around for Megumi’s gifts. Your fingers find faux-fur and you pull out a stuffed gray wolf with pointy ears in a sitting position. His mouth falls open in surprise, boyish and sweet. You reach back in again a few more times, retrieving a blanket, a toothbrush, and a nightlight that cast constellations on the ceiling.

Megumi’s eyes zero in on the wolf, and you hold it out for him to take. His fingers delicately sink into the plush fur, and your heart feels a little lighter as he places it on his lap, leaning over the edge at the other goodies you’d pulled from your domain. Even if he was technically a Zenin child, to you, he was just a little boy whose curiosity got the better of him. As you continue to wordlessly hand him items, you see him visibly relax, examining the nightlight and fiddling with the corner of his blanket.

You clear your throat, keeping your voice as gentle as possible. “I know you don’t know anything about techniques yet, but if my research is semi-correct, the first shikigami you’ll be able to summon are dogs. I picked this little guy up for you to have. If you don’t like it or don’t want it, I can get you something different–”

“I like it.” His soft voice quickly cuts you off, and he hugs the toy closer to his chest as if you were going to take it from him. “I want to keep it.”

You smile at him, and he finally meets your gaze with less fear than minutes earlier. “Okay,” you nod. “I’m happy you like it.”

He’s barely able to murmur a “thank you” before the door aggressively slides open and Satoru dramatically drapes himself in the doorway. You and Megumi stare at him, unentertained by his theatrics. “Alright, kid, that’s enough chit-chat. Time for bed.”

“I am in bed.” As Megumi fires off replies, you reach over and plug in his nightlight. Little stars scatter across the ceiling in different shades of yellow and blue.

“You know what I mean. Time for you to go to sleep.”

“You just want your friend back,” Megumi states boredly and you bite back a smirk at Satoru’s reddening face. The boy looks at you, down at his wolf, and back at Satoru. “I like them better than you.”

You snort, and Satoru looks like he’s been shot, throwing a hand over his heart in agony. “Cast out by my own kin. How cruel fate is!”

“I’m not related to you.”

“That’s not the point, Megumi.”

“You said during dinner that was the whole point.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth.” Children, you think. A child arguing with a taller child.

Your hand reaches out to lightly ruffle Megumi’s hair and you rise from the floor. “Sorry, Satoru. You heard the kid– I’m his favorite.” You wink at Megumi, laying out the blanket and patting the pillow to encourage him to lie down. “Unfortunately, he’s right. It’s time for sleep. We’ll be around in the morning to get you, okay? And then maybe we can get some breakfast. How’s that sound?”

Megumi nods, curling his body around the stuffed wolf and letting you pull the covers over him. His eyes find the star-shaped projections on the ceiling and trace invisible shapes on them. Satoru’s arm naturally wraps around your shoulders as you make to exit the dorm, but before you step out, you hear Megumi’s tiny voice in the darkness.

“Goodnight.”

You can still slightly see him from the glow of the rising moon, and you smile over your shoulder. “Goodnight, Megumi.”

As Satoru walks you back to your dorm, his arm doesn’t leave its place around your body. If anything, he pulls you closer, and you let him. He’s taken his sunglasses off, allowing the light of the stars to reflect off of his hair and his vibrantly blue eyes. You always thought Satoru looked most handsome at night, and tonight was no different. Allowing yourself to consider him like you were was walking a fine line between friends and more than friends, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to cross it.

“I’m just irresistible tonight, aren’t I?” His teasing snaps you out of your love-struck daydream, grounding you back to the present. He must have caught you staring.

“You’re definitely something, Satoru.” He hums smugly, and you look at him out of the corner of your eye. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Just find it cute that I rendered you without a spunky remark for the first time.”

“You’re gonna get a lot more than a spunky remark if you keep looking like that, asshole.” You poke his side and he yelps, contorting away from you like one of those car dealership inflatables. You can’t help the giggle that falls from your lips and Satoru can definitely see the heart-eyes you were giving him. For once, the mutual flirting seemed that it might actually mean something tonight. You reach your dorm, and Satoru follows you in without invitation like he’d done hundreds of times before.

“You’re really good with the kid.” His limbs stretch out as he flops onto the covers while you slip off your shoes. “How do you do it?”

You toss sleeping clothes on the bed, debating on aiming for the white-haired idiot on it. “I just pretend he’s you.”

“That’s rude. Are you calling me a toddler?”

“That’s exactly what I’m calling you, Satoru. This whole thing is a little kid taking care of a slightly smaller kid.” You stand between his legs with your hands on your hips, and he sits up to look at you. For once, he needed to look up at you, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

“I’m not nervous, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Gojo Satoru doesn’t get nervous about anything, you know, but it was still a bold move to basically adopt a child right out of high school. Even for him.

“You’re not?” He shakes his head confidently, peering up at you with those stupidly bright blue eyes. “How?”

“Because I have you.” Your stomach does a backflip. “I never get nervous because I have you.” His hand finds its way into yours, and you bring up your free hand to caress his cheek with your thumb. You guess tonight was the night to cross the line.

“Did you just baby-trap me with a child that is neither of ours, Satoru?” Your hand cups his face, and he leans into your touch.

“Oops.” You chuckle, letting him pull you closer until he’s able to press his lips up to yours. As he stands at his full height, his hand comes to tilt your chin upward while your arms slide around his neck. You stay there for a few moments, drowning in the overwhelming presence of his body. “I think we’re gonna be great at this whole parenting thing,” he murmurs against your lips when you pull back to breathe.

“I can’t believe the way you ask to date me is with an orphan. That’s emotional manipulation.”

“I call it effective persuasion.” You shake your head at his antics, and he presses a feather-light kiss to your temple. You sigh, face falling in disappointment as you check the time.

“Alright, get out.” Your hands reluctantly press against his chest to no avail. He never turned on Infinity around you, but he was immovable on his own.

“Ouch, tired of me already?”

“That, and we’re taking Megumi to breakfast tomorrow. For all three of our sakes, you need to try to rest.”

“Scared that I’m gonna die and adopt my murderer’s kid again?”

“Don’t even joke about that. You can’t just kiss me and then die. It’s not fair,” your mumbles trail off when Satoru kisses you tenderly one last time, nudging your nose with his.

“You’re a menace.”

“I know you love it.”

“I guess I do.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk imagines #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk satoru

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dyaz-stories · 16 days

Text

you know my tongue is a weapon || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: Shoko suggests a study night, but Gojo's bored and he doesn't want to study. So, instead, he offers to play a game, when all the others have left to get some food: every time he gets an answer right, he gets a kiss.

As you soon find out, Gojo can be very good at studying, as long as he gets something out of it.

word count: 3.8k

genre: college!AU, mostly fluff i think

cw: kissing, making out, semi-public kissing, unresolved sexual tension, reader is insecure and is therefore an unreliable narrator, dry humping ig, fem reader (the word girl is used once)

a/n: first time writing for jujutsu and for gojo! any feedback is appreciated, and i hope you enjoy yourselves :)

soundtrack

prequel

Exam season is never a fun time to be on campus. Stress fills the air, the hallways, the always full libraries, even the coffee shops where people usually meet to relax between two classes. It’s the only conversation subject between sleep-deprived students, looming over their head threateningly at any time of the day and night. It’s stifling, a weight on their chest that never quite wears off.

As for you, well, you’re doing alright.

Oh, for sure, it’s a lot of work, and you’re not thrilled about it by any stretch of the imagination, but academia is your thing, so you don’t find it nearly as crushing as others do. You’re more terrified of the time period that comes afterwards, while you’re waiting for the results like Judgement day.

In the meantime, you’ve given up on trying to find a spot to study in the library, and you’ve been doing most of it in your small student room. You haven’t stepped outside in days when Shoko texts you to suggest a study night. You suspect that she hasn’t started working and intends to cram, but you take her up on the offer nonetheless.

You show up at her place right on time — you always are — with your notes and some snacks. You wait quietly after knocking, trying to make sense of the chatter you hear on the other side of the door. She had mentioned she would ask a few other people if they wanted to join, which you had assumed would be fine, but faced with the reality of it now you can feel a lump growing in your throat. Academia might be easy for you, but people… aren’t.

When the door opens to reveal Gojo Satoru, piercing blue eyes meeting yours through white locks of hair that he pushes out of his face a second later, you fully consider turning around and leaving.

“You made it,” he says, shooting you a wide grin.

“Hi,” you squeak in reply.

Gojo is a… friend. Ish. Kinda. You think. Well, he’s a friend of Shoko’s, anyway, so the two of you have hung out, socially, before. Up until last summer, you assumed he didn’t even know your name.

“Thank God you’re here,” Shoko says, appearing from behind him to grab your hand. “No one here wants to work. We need to whip these imbeciles into shape or something.”

“I’m working,” Nanami sighs from the table in the living room, where he’s sitting alone.

“I was just waiting for everyone to be here, Shoko,” Geto says, his voice soft and even, as he approaches the table.

You set your bag down, giving Nanami an sympathetic smile, and he pushes his glasses higher on his nose. When he nods at you, you’re pretty sure it’s a silent way of saying ‘thank you for not leaving me alone with them’.

“What are you guys starting with?” you ask, pulling some books out of your bag.

Everyone here has different majors, but with some classes in common. You’re not sure how efficient this enterprise is going to be, if you’re completely honest, but as Gojo lets himself fall on a chair with a dramatic sigh, you suppose it can’t be worse than if he was left to his own devices.

“I’m doing literature, algebra and physics tonight!” Haibara announces, perhaps a tad too enthusiastic. You don’t want to crush his hopes and dreams, but—

“You’re never going to get through all that in one night,” Nanami says with a frown.

“Don’t listen to him”, Gojo intervenes, “you can do anything you set your mind to.”

There are stars in Haibara’s eyes when he looks at him, but you notice the glances Gojo is stealing at Nanami, and the way his smile widens when Nanami grits his teeth in annoyance. You bite your lip so you don’t let out a chuckle.

“Do you want to start with literature with me?” you offer. “Nanami, you’ll have to handle algebra because I’m not taking any algebra classes this semester.”

The corner of Nanami’s lips curves to form a smile.

“It’s good that someone here is taking this seriously.”

“Ugh,” Gojo mutters. “Fine. Hey, Suguru, do you know what tests I have next week?”

Nanami buries his head in his hands with a pained groan, and you laugh again, lump gone from your throat now, as you move your chair to come sit next to Haibara. Gojo’s eyes follow your movement silently. When you lean over the same textbook as Haibara, shoulders brushing against his as you push a lock of hair behind your ear, his expression turns thoughtful. It’s only when Geto drops a book in front of him that he snaps out of it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do shots instead?” he asks, tone sour.

“Man, don’t tempt me,” Shoko whines as she sits down as well. “The shots will have to wait.”

Truly, Gojo thinks, sadder words have never been spoken.

Nanami calls it quits right before 10 pm. He’s tried to leave a few times by then, usually because of one of Gojo’s quips, but Shoko’s managed to keep him around until then. It doesn’t help how delighted Gojo gets by his reactions, and you can’t blame him for abandoning you. You don’t doubt for a second that he would have been much more productive without everyone else around.

“If they pass their exams, we should give ourselves all the credit for that,” he comments at your intention, right before walking out the door. “Good luck with them.”

Then he’s gone, before Gojo can start to protest about why he is not getting any encouragements, even though he’s suffering so much, and everyone is mean, and nothing about this is fun, and—

Haibara, despite his best intentions, falls asleep on the couch less than thirty minutes later. It was just supposed to be quick nap, but by midnight he’s still down, and you can’t bring yourself to wake him up. Plus it’s not like you were making a lot of progress with him anyway, so he just might be better off sleeping.

It’s not long after that that Shoko starts to get real antsy. So far, she has kept on track despite Gojo’s attempts at distracting her, but you can tell she is starting to get incredibly bored. Somehow, that doesn’t seem to be Gojo’s case, even if the way his leg bounces underneath his chair tells you he’s itching to do anything other than sit here doing nothing.

“Fuck it,” Shoko says, finally giving up. “I’m going to get something to eat.”

Geto frowns.

“Now? Alone?”

“As if anything would happen to her,” Gojo says, spinning a pen between his fingers. “She’ll be the scariest person out there.”

Geto rolls his eyes.

“I’ll come with you,” he tells Shoko, and she shrugs. “Do you want to come too, Satoru?”

Gojo lets himself fall down on his chair, looking at Geto with his head hanging behind the back of the chair.

“Nah,” he says after a few seconds of intense deliberation. “Can’t abandon the teacher here.”

You feel your face heating up.

“Oh, I mean, I’m sure I’ll be fine. If you want to go, you should—”

“It’s fine,” he handwaves your protests away. “I’ll finally get some work done without Shoko here to constantly distract me with—”

He bursts out laughing when Shoko throws her pen at him.

“We’ll be right back,” she announces, standing up. “You,” she points at Gojo, “play nice. And you,” she gives you a severe look, “don’t hesitate to hit him. I’m not joking.”

She leaves the room, escorted by Geto. Haibara doesn’t even stir when the door slams.

“Alright,” Gojo says, not wasting a second to reach for your chair so he can pull you closer to him, “it’s my turn to get my own personal tutor.” His fingers brush against your leg as he pulls you in, and you know, from how his eyes seem to drink in everything about you, that he doesn’t miss your quiet gasp nor the way your breath quickens. You’ve noticed this before, too. If he likes annoying Nanami, he seems to delight in your reactions at least as much — though he tries to make you laugh or to fluster you rather than piss you off.

“Um,” you say, with the eloquence that characterizes you around him, “what do you need help with?”

He tilts his head to the side as he studies you. You find him breathtaking, you always do, but you think you’ve gotten better at hiding it, so even if it feels like he’s looking right into your soul, you give him an easy smile.

Somehow, he is the one who ends up averting his eyes.

“How about philosophy?”

Right, the two of you share that one class on the history of ideas.

“Sure,” you say, already grabbing a book and thumbing through it. “I’ve taken quite a few notes for that class, actually, I can give them to you if you—”

“That’s boring,” he interrupts you. “We should do something else.”

You put down your book, intrigued, and something twists in your stomach when you see the look he’s giving you. He’s like a cat with a mouse, with exactly the same hunger in his eyes.

“What—” you clear your throat when your voice cracks. “What are you suggesting?”

“Well,” he leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and putting his chin in his palm, “I need an incentive to work, you know?”

You swallow. Sure.

“So how ‘bout I get a kiss for every right answer I give you?”

And you almost choke on air.

“What?” you manage to croak. Blood is rushing to your face, and it feels like your brain is short-circuiting. Your heart’s beating faster, hammering in your chest, and you feel your palms grow sweaty.

“C’mon,” he teases, reaching out to pull on a lock of your hair and twirl it around his finger, and you know, you know, he knows he’s got you right where he wants to, “help me study.”

“Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he all but purrs.

“Satoru,” you say, “what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he blinks innocently. “Just trying to find a fun way to study.”

You examine him carefully, try to figure out what, exactly, is going on behind these beautiful eyes of his. You’ve had— moments, with him. He fell asleep on your shoulder in the car once. He held your hand through a busy festival, teasing you about not wanting you to get lost, and later helped you get on his shoulders so you’d get a better view of the stage. The one time you agreed to accompany Shoko to the club, you remember his hands on your hips, his breath against your ear, the ghost of his lips to your neck. But nothing actually happened between the two of you. You’d told yourself that it was all a distraction for him, that he didn’t want more.

This isn’t exactly confirmation. You don’t doubt that it’s all in good fun still, and knowing you, and how hard you tend to fall, you should walk away while you have the chance.

But you really, really want to kiss him. Want to know what it would feel like to taste his lips, to have his body pressed against yours, to feel his hands all over you.

You always take the smart decision. This is not the smart decision. But…

“What if you get it wrong?” you ask.

Satoru blinks.

“You can, uh, spray me with a water bottle?”

You let out a brief laugh.

“Isn’t that a dog thing? That feels unethical, Satoru.”

He preens at your use of his name.

“You should take your chance,” he drawls. “Shoko says it’s really cathartic.”

You’re not sure you need catharsis, but you feel a little lighter now. It’s all a joke to him, clearly, and from what you’ve seen in the past couple of hours, he hasn’t seriously studied once. He’s not going to get the answers right. You don’t think he’s even trying to.

“Fine,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, reaching out for a water bottle and positioning your chair so you’re facing him. “Who came up with the notion of civil disobed—"

“Thoreau, 1848, but the essay was republished with that name in 1866.”

You stare. Gojo gives you a lazy smile.

“Now where’s my kiss?”

“Um,” you say. You feel incredibly awkward now. He’s leaning back against his chair, with eyes that have not left you once since he’s suggested that idea. You— have to move, now, don’t you?

Very slowly, very hesitantly, you push yourself to your feet. Satoru doesn’t move at all, and you don’t know if it relieves you or stresses you out even more. The position is quite uncomfortable, too, with you standing and him sitting down. You don’t know that you’ve ever towered over him like that. Gingerly, you put a hand on his shoulder, and then you’re leaning over him, and then you’re kissing him, and then you’re moving away as fast as you can. This was just a peck, really, a press of your lips to his that lasted a second, tops, and that you’re already trying to forget about.

You’re not a teenager anymore, and you know this shouldn’t be getting to you that much, but it’s— it’s Satoru Gojo. You’ve worked very, very hard not to think of him like that, because you didn’t want to let yourself get hurt. And now, you’ve let yourself be dragged into this so easily? Ugh. You wish you could slap yourself.

“Okay,” you say, voice more high-pitched than you’d like, but still understandable, which you’re grateful for. “Next, um, can you explain what philosopher kings are?”

Surely—

“Of course,” Satoru pretty much sing-songs. “Plato thought that cities should be ruled by trained philosophers, because only a philosopher would know and act for the good of a city.” There’s a brief pause, before he adds, “Aristotle thought that was bullshit, though. For the record.”

And then he waits. You narrow your eyes at him.

“When did you study for that?”

“I never study,” he answers lightly.

Instead of standing up this time, you scoot your chair closer to him, and you lean forward. Satoru chuckles, but humors you — even if the temptation of leaning further back to make you come to him, because you’re just adorable when you’re flustered, is great. This time, when you kiss him, though, he presses forward before you can move away, his nose brushing against your cheek as he chases after you. And oh, what a sight you are after that, wide eyed, lips parted, hands tightening on your notes.

“Next?” he asks.

“Right,” you say. You’re— not sure what’s happening here, to be quite honest. Should you stop this? You— don’t think you want to, but you’re also not sure what this charade is all about. “Um. Spinoza thought that free will—”

“—could only be reached through knowledge, and that most people never obtained it.”

Okay.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a physics major?”

He raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely amused.

“Determinism’s a pretty big deal in science, actually, but let’s not change the subject here.”

You bite your lower lip, and his eyes track the movement like he’s starving for you.

You’re feeling hot all over, anticipation burning inside of you, and this time, you can’t pretend that he hasn’t done this on purpose. That he wanted to kiss you. You can’t quite reconcile the way you see yourself with that thought — how could Gojo Satoru want you, of all people? — but you find that it doesn’t matter.

You lean towards him once more, and this time, you let yourself kiss him. Really kiss him. You press your lips to his, soft at first, but when you don’t move away immediately, you feel him pressing against you, one hand coming to cup your cheek. His teeth pull at your bottom lip, and you let out a involuntary gasp. He doesn’t waste the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, and you keep inching closer to him, hands coming to his shoulders for support. You can feel yourself melt into him, and you curse your common sense when it leads you to break away from the kiss.

It doesn’t deter Satoru, though, because as you do, his hand slides under your knee, and next thing you know, he’s pulled you into his lap. His face is deliciously flushed, pink hue under the pale skin. He looks up at you, long fingers tightening around your thighs.

“We should waste less time like that,” he says.

Shoko likes to say he’s insufferable, and you can see why. Everything all seems to come so easy to him, and you’re defenseless against the way your heart races. When his eyes are on you, it feels like you’re the only person in the world. You’re not usually the type to indulge in that idea, but, ah, what’s the harm, as long as you know how to come back to earth later on?

You shake your head as you take him in.

“How are you even doing that?” you ask, mildly peeved.

“Haven’t you heard?” he grins widely. “I’m a genius.”

You roll your eyes at him. You’ve heard about that, of course, about how he maintains stellar grades without breaking a sweat. You just hadn’t seen that in application until now. In class, he’s usually asleep, or taking great joy in bothering the teacher. You’ve never seen him try to get something.

“Well, where’s my question?”

You sigh, putting your arms around his neck. You left your notes on the table, meaning that you might be less prepared than he is, actually.

“Descartes famously said—”

“Cogito ergo sum. C’mon, rational doubt is at the heart of science. I’m starting to think you’re just trying to kiss me.”

You do want to kiss him, but you have the self-control to shrug.

“Well, if you don’t want to—”

His mouth is on yours before you can think of how to end that sentence. He kisses you hungrily, hands gripping your hips as he tries to pulls you closer to him. Your chest presses into his, and you tighten your hold around him, fingers running through his hair. He grunts when you pull on it slightly, tilts his head back a little more to give you better access to his mouth, and when his tongue brushes against yours once more, you can’t help but to rock your hips against his. The friction makes you gasp into his mouth, and one of your hands falls down to his shoulder, fisting his shirt as you try to find better support.

“Fuck,“ you hear him mumble underneath you, right as you feel him grow hard. He pushes up against you. His fingers dig into your skin, one hand slipping under your shirt to run over your skin, leaving a trail of fire behind. It moves higher, brushing against your bra.

Against your better judgement, your hands travel down his body, tracing over his muscles. You feel him twitch under you, and when you roll your hips once more, with much more intent than the first time, he groans.

“Satoru,” you whisper, though even you don’t know if it’s a plea for him to stop or to keep going.

His eyes widen, and you feel him lift you up easily, pushing you onto the table. You lean back slightly, resting your weight on one hand. He’s red all over now, from his ears to his neck. His pupils are wide, his lips swollen, his hair messy. He looks like sin.

You don’t want to think about what you look like.

“C’mon,” he says. “Last question.”

“Haibara’s in the living room,” you point out. Even you know where this is leading.

“He’s dead asleep,” he merely shrugs. He’s mesmerizing, but you note that the glimmer of amusement that always dances in his eyes. This feels— serious.

“Um,” you say, licking your lips and watching how he bites his as his grip on your waist tightens once more — like he’s holding himself back. “Confucius—”

And then, the front door opens.

Gojo clicks his tongue and reluctantly steps back as you jump down from the table, beelining for the bathroom — you know that kiss is written all over your face.

You glare at yourself in the mirror. Your body’s still tingling, and you’re aching with want, now that release has been denied to you, but you know better. You’re supposed to know better. You take a few seconds to comb through your hair with your hands, and when it no longer looks like someone’s, well, kissed you senseless, you cautiously step back outside.

“We got you some fuel,” Shoko announces loudly, before getting shushes by Geto. He points in Haibara’s direction, who’s started snoring slightly.

“Thank you so much,” you say sweetly. “I’ll— Why are you wet?”

Gojo deadpans as he looks at you but, well, there’s water dripping from his hair, down his chin, and onto the shirt your hands were fisted in just a few minutes earlier, so, you think the question is valid.

“He was splashing water on his face when we got here,” Geto supplies helpfully. “Gojo runs hot.”

“And now it’s all over my floor,” Shoko mutters. “Next time, just wait ‘til the bathroom’s free, huh?”

Gojo looks like he has something to say just on the tip of his tongue, but he glances at you and seems to swallow it back.

“If anything, I made it cleaner,” he proclaims, leaning back on his chair. “Shoko, how long has it been since you cleaned in here? We really need to find you a partner who’s willing to do that stuff, otherwise you’ll keep living in fil—”

Shoko’s pencil case lands right in the middle of his face.

“You absolute brat,” she spits out, “I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to tell me something like that when you rely exclusively on Geto to—”

The bickering continues, but you tune it out. Under the table, Satoru’s knee brushes against yours. It’s almost hesitant at first, before he leans his leg against yours, when he realizes you’re not moving away. This isn’t the smart choice, either, but, ah, you’re always, always the smart girl. Is it so bad to have a night of fun? Is it so bad that you want to know what it would feel like to have him, even if it’s just once?

He’ll break your heart, the voice of reason says in the back of your mind, but then Satoru looks back at you, checking to see if you’re laughing at how he’s making fun of Shoko and, well.

You think you’ll let him.

Any and all feedback in the form of asks, reblogs, comments, tags is highly encouraged and appreciated~ If you enjoy my work, interactions are what keep me writing and motivated!

I haven't written anything in months and I think it shows but, well, I have to restart somewhere lol, so I hope it was still fun for you and you enjoyed yourselves here for a little while. Thank you for reading <3

prequel

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you #my writing #gojo imagine #jjk x y/n

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risuola · 9 months

Text

DO YOU WANT TO STAY? — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

After the painful breakup with Satoru, your friends dragged you out for the party to have you loosen up, but the night went very wrong and very right.

cw: smut, hurt/comfort, unprotected sex, creampie, cursing, mentions of alcohol, brief violence, mentions of blood and very, very minor injuries (like scratches), little bit of post-breakup depression but nothing major; angsty vibes nonetheless, reader discretion is advised — 5,5k words

In the coldness of the dark night, you tried to get to your apartment, kick off those high heeled torture devices you’ve decided to put on earlier that day and just sink into the softness of your bed. Maybe right after washing away the concoction of cologne that lingered all over your figure, resulting from the awful experience that was clubbing with your friends. Fed up with all of the drunk assholes that tried to get into your pants with no shame whatsoever, you left, sending just a short text to Suguru. Resigned after trying to catch a taxi for few minutes, you moved by feet, cussing under your breath for the shoes you wore and if not for the filthy ground that disgusted you, you’d already be barefoot.

Padding in short, quick steps, you dumbly decided to cut the way with the shortcut that led you through the dark, stripped of most lights side-street-areas, the ones that nobody in the right mind would choose at any circumstance, but you were far from the right mind, when your feet felt like they were bathing in their own blood, with skin peeling through each and every step you pushed forward. And you thought you’re being lucky that night, seeing nobody in your way as you strode through the dark alley, before your hopes crushed in pieces as few men twice your size stepped right in front of you. Instinctively, you backed out and glanced behind yourself, thinking that maybe it still wasn’t too late to run back to the main street, but as you did that, the way closed by another wall of muscle. Trapped in the circle of misfortune, you noticed the metallic shine of bats few of them held loosely propped on their shoulders as they measured you out with their filthy eyes, grinning so wildly, you could see their teeth reflecting light even in the darkness of the alley.

“What do we have here, huhh?” one of them spoke and a mixture of laughs and chuckles, huffs and groans followed the question, along with many disgusting comments that made the horny men in the club look nearly innocent, as you thought about it.

“I’m just passing,” you said, swallowing the shake of your voice down to at least look like you were keeping composure, which you definitely didn’t. Resignation began flooding your system whilst the circle tightened around you, invading your personal space, making you feel smaller than you really were and causing your brain to forget all of the self-defense skills you had. It wasn’t much, but anything could possibly be better than just giving up, but you were already broken, doubting that any more damage could make things worse.

Just a month ago, you broke up with your boyfriend of twelve. It was heading towards the first real anniversary of your seemingly joyful relationship when everything crumbled right in front of your eyes, collapsing like a house made of cards. Satoru Gojo was everyone’s favorite – truly, everyone loved him – girls wanted to be with him, boys wanted to be him; students admired him, he was teacher’s favorite with his perfect grades, the know-it-all, the golden boy and even his enemies, that he had a lot of, would give everything to just once wear his skin and be him, be the infamous Satoru. And he was yours, for a year before the bubble burst and everything you tried to build with him shattered, along with your whole world. He was your whole world, you loved him sincerely, with all his flaws that he had quite a few, with all of his charms and wits, all of his handsome looks and every single one worn out, tired picture he hid from the outside world, but you were his inside world so you saw all of him.

When the break-up happened and the ground underneath your feet crushed, leaving you in shock so deep that you bluntly agreed to staying friends, as he briefly suggested in between his venomous spits, considering your shared group of close friends, but it turned out that staying friends after being so close and intimate wasn’t necessarily possible, at least for you. With memories of many nights filled with exploring each other’s bodies to the point of nearly passing out tattooed inside your mind, you couldn’t just watch as he poured his natural charm onto someone else than you so you quickly cut him off, removing his socials from your followings, removing him from your sight and retracting from any group activity with people that you called your friends as well. You couldn’t be in places where he was present, couldn’t see how effortless flirting was for him just days after he became free, how well he was presenting himself when you tried your best not to cry at the thought of him alone, not to say the sight of him with the crowd of thirsty girls at his feet.

It’s been a month and you still felt broken, so broken, in fact, that you were deliberately giving up fight in the threatening situation you found yourself in. It was your fault, after all, to try and cut your way short when you should never step into one of those side-alleys, aware of what Tokyo darkness’ hides. Silently, you hoped to just die here quickly, as you wished many times in the past few weeks, the heartbroken feeling slowly suffocating you inside the walls of your apartment that you trapped yourself in before your friends forced you out to club that night. And you pulled yourself together earlier that day, made yourself look presentable and even put on those fucking heels, determined to drown your sorrows in the sweet alcoholic drinks, to open up to new people, to feel like yourself once again and maybe, just maybe, find yourself a man, even if it’s just for the night because no one could replace Satoru. And you failed miserably, unable to have any fun in the crowded, sweaty space full of swaying bodies and disgusted at the thought of having sex with anyone there. You were never a party nor quickie kind of girl, you only began attending clubs with Satoru as he liked those loud musical gatherings and you found comfort alongside him, with the safe shelter of his protective arms the crowd around you seemed nonexistent and now, as the barrier of his muscles was taken away, you felt almost threatened by the drunk-dazed atmosphere so you ran away, giving in to your self-preservation instincts that clearly wore off when you turned into the alley off the main road.

“What should we do with you, princess?” one man asked, grinning widely and you felt the coldness of his steely bat underneath your chin that forced your head up enough to face him. “Oh, don’t cry, it’s gonna be soooo fun,” another added and it's at this point that you realized that a tear run down your cheek so you quickly wiped it away, wondering if it was caused by the fear or the wave of regret following the rush of memories that just a second ago flooded your system as you tried to recall why you even ended up in that situation, reminding yourself of the post-Satoru depression. “For us, at least. For you maybe not so much,” a laugh reached your ear from the back as you felt a hand gluing itself to the curve of your waist, and you flinched uncontrollably while your whole body was declining you anything above that movement. Cursing yourself, cursing the world around you, you tried to force your muscles to contract again, to move at any direction, to run if you’re lucky. Maybe the high heeled shoes could make for a weapon, maybe you could at least poke someone’s eye out, maybe you could do something, but instead, you did nothing. Squeezing your eyes shut and lowering your head, resigned and slowly agreeing to enter hell that was about to open right before you, you froze once again hearing a pained whine right behind your back. The palm that just a second ago was pressed disgustingly to your body was now gone and you were too scared to look at what happened so you stood in place, hoping that a black hole opened behind you, swallowing the man that threatened you.

“I’ll say it only once,” a voice you heard made your eyes snap open, but you kept them fixed on the ground, convinced that your brain, influenced by alcohol, fear and despair, was making things up at this point. “All of you, keep your hands off of her, understood? It’d better if y’all just run so nobody gets hurt.” You heard it again, you heard him again, the strict tone with honeyed undercurrent, and the shadows consumed your trembling figure as his towering body stood in front of you, effectively creating a barrier between you and the gangsters. You raised your head, your eyes run over the lines of his broad back until they finally landed on the messy head of snowy-white hair that even in the murky area stood out. He looked relaxed, with his hands tucked into the pockets of his varsity jacket and his head tilted slightly to the side. You took one step back but your feet met something that block it – that something being an unconscious body of a man that previously was touching your side. Stunned, you looked forward once again, only to see the scene of calculated violence playing out as Satoru easily dealt with hooligans. With quick, impressive displays of agility and strength, he put down one by one, effectively clearing the way for you to go home, but you stayed where you were until he finally finished the beating.

“Y’alright?” he asked and all you could do was nod when he grabbed your forearm, pulling you to leave the place of danger. Your body barely moved, tensed painfully and you felt the burn spreading along your skin from where his fingers were wrapped around your flesh. Forcing your legs to move, you tried to match his pace as he was leading the way towards your flat, hand still keeping a secure hold on you as he looked forward.

It’s in front of your building when you finally jerked your arm out of his grasp and he looked down at you, almost offended at how desperately you distanced yourself from his touch when before you’d lean into it instantly. Standing there, you finally locked eyes with his crystalline blue ones, that were looking down at you through the light strands of his hair and you couldn’t help but notice they’re longer than he’d usually keep them, crossing the length of comfort – as he used to call it – with the pukes irritating his eyes when below it. His seemingly neutral expression hid some tension, you noticed his brows creasing just slightly and his jaw flexing underneath the light layer of his skin.

“I leave you for what, few weeks, and you’re already getting in trouble?” he snapped rolling his eyes out of habit, but you could tell it was far from his usual teasing tone and he hated the way you were looking at him, or rather, through him. Your ability to see through every single of his little lies never annoyed him more than in this very moment, whilst you two stood awkwardly underneath the block you live in – the same one he used to live in with you, finding it convenient because of the shorter route he had to take from your place to college, comparing to the one he had from his own. “No wonder you’re in hot water when you walk naked through the shadiest alleys available.”

“I’m not naked, Gojo.”

“Gojo, huh?” he hummed in displease and chuckled bitterly at the unfamiliar sound of his last name rolling off your tongue. “That’s what you revoke me to? Not even a ‘thank you’ for saving your dumb ass a moment ago?”

“I don’t recall calling for your help,” you snapped, feeling the sudden wave of anger washing over you, as his words stung just as they were a month ago, but the angry feeling was gone as soon as it flowed in, when you noticed his hands. Knuckles stained in red, glistening in the street-lights as some spots were still bleeding after he punched down a little group of hooligans barehanded. In your defense. “You’re bleeding.”

“Another reason why you should be a little more thankful”, narrowing his eyes, he tried to hide his hands from you but you grabbed one of them and as you examined the damage, guilt began making your eyes wet, your mind unable to bear with the thought of any hurt happening to the man you still love so much it began killing you the second he was gone. Blinking the tears away, you exhaled. “Come inside, I’ll-“

“No need,” he grunted instantly, taking his hand back by force but you insisted, “please, let me at least clean these.”

Satoru started to regret the decision as soon as he stepped into your apartment, with all of the memories hitting him like a brick the moment he looked around the place. It looked all too familiar, everything so similar to how he left it a month ago, he was almost convinced you didn't change anything since that day. A blanket he bought you still hung loosely on the couch back rest, a cup from which he used to drink his morning coffee still was standing on the kitchen counter and even the chair in the living room was still pushed near the sofa, serving no real purpose for you whilst he liked to put his legs up while watching TV, being too tall to fit comfortably on your furniture. Everything felt so similar, like it was his home but now it wasn’t anymore.

“Come”, you snapped him from the trance and he followed you to kitchen island, where you already pulled the first aid kit to dress his injuries. You made him sit on the high-chair, while you kept standing on the ground and as you focused on cleaning his knuckles gently, Satoru could shamelessly analyze your features. Unable to deny your cute concentration, the corners of his mouth curled up just slightly as he noticed your brows furrow when you discovered more and more scratches along his skin. If it was his decision, he would just wash his hand at home and call it, but you always liked to take care of him and he often got home with scratches, sometimes getting them just to be tend by you, making you laugh at the unwise effort. If he wanted more attention from you, he could have asked – you always said, joking that although you’d try, you’re not sure if more attention was even possible as he took all of your mind. Now, as he looked at the precise movements of your gentle fingers, he wondered if he’s still appearing in your thoughts sometimes or have you pushed him out completely.

With a cloth and warm water, you cleaned the blood off his knuckles, revealing many little wounds that although shallow and harmless, will sting like hell when you use the disinfectant so you sighed quietly, already hating the thought of hurting him more. “There was no need for all that,” your voice was quiet enough, that if not for the complete silence of your apartment, he might have missed it. “You just got hurt.”

“And you might have been hurt much more than I am now,” he forced his tone to sound somewhat calm but his insides were burning. How could you say such things? How could you prioritize his well-being over your own, after what he’s put you through.

“I kinda wish I was,” you blurted out, pressing the gauze soaked in alcohol to his knuckles but it caused no reaction, as Satoru looked at you stunned. The words that just left your mouth were sinking in, and he found himself unable to speak.

“What do you even mean?” he forced finally, his voice lower and angrier and you tensed at the sound of his usual soft, melodic tone now stained with rageful undertones. “What do you mean, ‘you wish you were hurt’?”

“Pain that’s physical is easier to bear,” you replied quietly and cleared your throat, changing the subject as you finished wrapping his hands with thin, protective layer of bandage. “It should be good.”

"And what makes you so unhappy that you're that desperate for your body to hurt, huh?" Satoru asked, his face twisting in annoyance. "Surely, it cannot be me." The thought alone, the very idea that he might be the reason for you wanting to feel physical pain just to dull the mental made his insides turn with guilt but his effort to sound unbothered caused you to shut down and step back.

"No," you lied, packing up the first aid kit, looking strictly down. "It's nothing, forget it."

"It's not nothing, I want to know-"

"Not everything can always be as you want it," you snapped, walking away to put the kit where it belonged in the kitchen cabinet, silently hating yourself for the tears that moistened your eyes, hating the heartbroken feeling he fueled so skillfully with his nonchalant speech. You exhaled shakily, "y-you should go."

"Yeah. I think I should," he got up from the chair but instead of heading out, he circled the island in few large strides to catch your shaking hands and pull you into his chest. "But I won't. I need to talk to you. I have to."

"You said everything a month ago. You said enough back then, do you truly have anything to add?", the question rendered you hopeful that he's not going to say anything more because you couldn't take anything more. You were hurt through and through, your soul was crying and bleeding every second of every day since the one that broke you and you knew that you were way too close to the edge to take any more stabs of his sharp tongue and not fall down.

"Yes, I have," he kept you close but you don't fight. With your cheek pressed against his heartbeat and his strong hands secured around your shoulders and back, you kept yours down, hanging alongside your body afraid to touch him because if you’d allow your arms to embrace him, you might never let him go, risking another tear of your soul if he ripped away. "I want to apologize. For everything I did and I said then and now, and any time. I'm constantly talking shit, I don't know – fuck, I feel like sometimes my brain just shuts off. I'm sorry."

"You're what?", stunned, you forgot how to breathe and only whisper pushed through your mouth as you listened to his rambling.

"I'm sorry, y/n, sugar. I'm sorry, I've never... I didn't mean to- I don't know, I don't even know how explain it."

He spoke and your world stopped.

"What does that mean?", you asked, unable to hide the spark of hope that crawled into your voice as you breathed in his scent, absorbing his aura full of familiarity and warmth that you used to bask in every day since you got together. Your relationship always was heavily physical, it was the love language you both shared and you loved the way his hands never seemed to not be touching you, whether it was keeping you pressed against his chest or just smoothing over your hand with his fingers.

"It means I'm an idiot, that's what it means. No one ever I can love like I love you; I can't stop thinking about you, I can't sleep, god, I feel like I can't breathe. What I'm trying to say, uh... Fuck, I miss you, 'kay?"

"But you told me to go to hell", you reminded yourself and him as well, in your head replaying the cruel record that broke your world into pieces. "You told me-"

"I know", he stopped you from talking and you felt his body shifting slightly as his hand found your cheek, cupping it tenderly and lifting it so you looked up at him. Locking eyes with his light blue crystals you searched for the truth but couldn’t see anything. Satoru's heart broke once again when he noticed the intense shine of your eyeballs, wet from tears that you desperately tried to hold back. "That day I was... It was a bad day; nothing justifies it but I wasn’t thinking clearly. That day I hurt everyone around me, you, Suguru, Shoko, I even insulted Mei and she’s hard to hurt. Chain reaction of my stupidity, I ruined everything and as they forgot about it quickly, I couldn't bring myself to face you after what rolled off my tongue. And then I couldn't find you."

"I couldn't be seeing you so shamelessly flirting with everyone around you. I cut myself off", you said quietly, laying your hand over his own pressed against your cheek as his thumb smoothed over the damp skin underneath your lower lashes, wiping the salty residues away.

"I was being stupid," he sighed. His eyes lowered a little to glance over your lips, suddenly unable to resist you, losing the last bits of self-control the longer he looked at you. "It's you that I love, sugar." With that, his head lowered slowly, giving you enough time to push him away if you really wanted to, but you stayed in place, as if you were expecting what follows so he pressed his lips against yours, squeezing the gasp out of your chest and you couldn’t fight him when he was kissing you like he's starved.

The moment your mouths connected made you feel dizzy and you felt your knees buckling underneath the weight of his feeling. Instinctively, feeling you lose your balance, Satoru grabbed you by the hips and lifted you effortlessly, sitting you on top of the kitchen island and wiggling his way in between your legs to keep your body as close to his own as possible. You whined quietly, feeling the cold marble underneath your naked thighs where the dress rolled up. The kiss became messier, burning with lust and longing and you wrapped your legs around his middle, pulling him even closer, already tugging at his t-shirt that realistically you couldn’t take off because of the jacket still hugging his broad shoulders. Gojo read your intentions and pushed the garment off, breaking the kiss just for a second so you could take the black blouse off of his toned body, revealing the light skin strangely clear of any nail marks and love bites that you usually adorned him with and he wore those with pride. Your hands glued themselves to the softness of his flesh, examining the bumps of muscles flexing beneath your touch, and he crashed his lips against yours once again, kissing you messy and teethy as your tongues danced to the fiery melody of desire. Satoru was quick to encourage your dress to come even higher, his hand reached to the back, where he knew a full-dress-length zipper was waiting to be pulled down and he grinned into the kiss whilst exposing your velvety skin completely to his disposal. Wasting no time, he took you closer, smoothing over curves of your perfect figure, squeezing your supple flesh and you melted into the touch of his warm fingers with a soft whine that you couldn’t stop.

Satoru moved down, smearing kisses along your face, through jawline and onto your neck and shoulders and you couldn’t hold back a quiet moan at the feeling of his plush lips sucking spots on their way down. Brushing through his silky white strands, you allowed him to push down the straps of your lacy bra and before you noticed, it was off and on the ground as the man lifted you up from the cold counter, heading towards the conjoined living area and soon dropping you onto the soft couch, following you closely. You bounced slightly off the pillowy seats as he hovered above you, his lips glued to your skin, marking and exploring every inch as he moved down to take care of your chest and you stroked his strong shoulders, scratching them red.

Your body jolted up when suddenly you felt pressure of Satoru’s fingers over your clothed clit, as he rubbed circles over the sensitive bud while his mouth worked your perky nipples. The way his tongue danced around the pebble and how his teeth grazed the delicate skin continuously made you forget your own name, but for him it mattered only if you remembered his. Your mind became hazy, you felt like nothing else existed except for the man above you and you made your way down to unbuckle his jeans, impatiently diving your hand right into his boxers and wrapping your cold digits around his already hardened shaft. His cock was thick and leaking, begging for attention and it sprung out long when you pulled him out the trap that was his underwear. Satoru moaned against your breast, for a moment forgetting about the nipple in his mouth that he was in the middle of teasing, when he felt your grip moving up and down his length just right, spreading the pre-cum over it, and he knew he cannot wait any longer. He raised up on his knees, taking the panties off your body and finally kicking away the rest of his clothes before he fell back over you. His face met yours in another passionate, wet kiss and you moaned into it, as he worked his fingers between your folds, bullying your tenderness shamelessly and forcing many more sweet whines and whimpers from your chest.

“Satoruuu”, you mewled and he grinned at the sound of his name coming from you. “Don’t tease me so much, please”, pleading, you tugged at his hair and he chuckled at the eagerness in your tone. But he knew how big he is and even sleeping with him regularly, he more often than not had to prepare you for the stretch that was Gojo Satoru. “Don’t wanna hurt you, yeah?”, he smiled, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking softly at the pulse and you just wanted him inside, no matter the consequences. “I can take you”, you ensured, “please, ‘toru.”

And what kind of man would Satoru be if he denied a pretty lady what she wanted and if feeling the burn is what you truly desired, he was going to give it to you. Being desperate himself,he stroked his length few times more before he smeared the head along your soaked folds and aligned the tip at your entrance, already knowing he’s gonna see tears very soon. And he did – your cheeks dampened as the burning stretch paralyzed the nerves all along your body and the tearing pleasure waved over your entire existence. Satoru groaned low through his clenched teeth at how your velvety walls were squeezing around his shaft as he slowly bottomed out. “God, I love you so much,” he growled into your ear and your dead-grip on his shoulders softened, letting him know that he’s good to move so he dragged his hips back almost completely, engrossed with the way your tight pussy tried to suck him back. Hot wave rushed through your body, as he began thrusting slowly and purposefully, clawing at one of your hips to ground himself before he loses composure in the way your cunt swallowed him whole time after time. He supported his weight on the other hand on the armrest behind your head, and gven the access to his body, you allowed your hands to wander all over his well-build form, leaving scratches and crescent-moons here and there with your long nails. Your fingers moved on their own, subconsciously tracing over the familiar musculature, refreshing the memory of a body that was burned into your mind. A whimper left your mouth when Satoru rolled his hips into you quicker, picking up the pace gradually and it almost hurt how deep he reached, kissing every sensitive spot inside you and it made your mind go blank of anything that wasn’t him. You smoothed over his flexing biceps, squeezing it tightly when he adjusted the position of your hips to ram his own into them harder.

Smearing kisses along your jawline, Gojo tasted your skin with pleasured hums, drowning in divine feeling of your pretty cunt eagerly taking him in, listening to the whimpers and mewls intertwined with little I love you’s that slipped through your parted lips in breathy tones. Warmth began pooling below his stomach as he praised you for doing so well after such long time and you cried out a moan when his hips buckled up sharper and rougher. He was drunk in the godly presence that you were, intoxicating himself with everything that was you – your taste, the scent your delicate skin held, the image of your flushed cheeks glistening with tears that his size caused and those were the only tears he accepted on your face. Beautiful crystals of wetness gathering along your lashes as he split you open with the unforgivable pace he has set, pushing up against every sweet spot inside of you and making you lose every last bit of real-world connection.

Blissful daze suited you and Satoru couldn’t get enough of the sight of your fucked out expression, wearing the same one himself, as his pace stuttered due to the delightful series of twitches and flexes your pussy did around him. Your toes were curling, thighs shaking and it only made him go harder. In a messy cacophony of pants and whines, you managed to unknowingly call his name again and again, ridding Satoru of every last bit of clear-thinking as suddenly, he wanted to hear only that sweet sound of your breathless voice. The voice he’s been dreaming about for the last weeks.

His cock twitched and thickened inside of you, pressuring your sensitive walls even more as he collapsed on his elbow next to your ribcage, sliding his forearm below your arched back and reaching new angles as your hips rolled forward. His fingers curled over your soft flesh as he was slamming his pelvis into your own, his pace became messied, more rushed, as he felt your orgasm approaching. You creamed all over his shaft, the white gathering at the base of it, as your pussy tightened and squelched delightfully in waves. Your gaze was heavy and you couldn’t focus on where your hands were landing as you felt the bliss washing all over your figure. Your thighs were trembling, your nails run over Gojo’s back, leaving red marks that for sure will sting later and you held onto his shoulders for dear life when he picked up the tempo even more, chasing his own release. Smearing wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your chest, Gojo leaned into the dip above your collar bone, groaning and breathing heavily as in few more pushes, his orgasm snapped, rushing hot with his load spilling inside of you. You felt his teeth sinking into your skin right where your neck connected to the shoulder and you couldn’t help but moan once again at the new painful pleasure. His brute pace slowed down, becoming messy and languid and his body fell over you, weighing you down onto the couch. You wrapped your arms around him, keeping him from lifting up, not at all caring about his weight crashing your own. Last drops of his load were squeezed by your walls before he slowly pulled out, exhaling deeply against your skin and you laughed joyfully.

Your voice was tired, your entire body ached from the unexpected activity but you felt happy for the first time in a month, suddenly grateful for your friends to take you out that day. Satoru at first basked in the sound of your chuckle before he joined, overwhelmed by the blissful daze. Both of you were worn off, sticky and completely fucked out and yet deeply satisfied and although still far from good as a pair, it already was much better.

“Fuck, I love you so much”, Satoru breathed out, planting few soft, ghosting kisses over the imprint of his teeth that already began to bruise up, coloring your smooth complexion with reds and purples as the mark was blooming.

“Do you, uh-“, you started but voice died down your throat; you were terrified of an answer. Gathering the strength, you continued, “do you want to stay…? With me…?”

Satoru grinned handsomely as he lifted his head up and your sight met the crystalline blue gaze of his eyes. His white eyelashes fluttered when he blinked, mesmerizing you all over again with the magical look of his features, his cheeks still stained with the faint blissful flush and you looked at his face with hope. “Yes”, he finally spoke and you felt your heart banging against your ribcage, as if it wanted to jump through it and kiss him itself. “I want to stay with you. Forever.”

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iovetecchou · 5 months

Text

⌜Love To Hate You ⧸ Hate To Love You⌟ 𓂃༞♡

༞ Gojo Satoru x Reader

༞ Contains...! enemies to lovers trope, implied hidden feelings, brief mention of suggestive dreams, "princess" used as a nickname for the reader, bickering, banter, implied jealousy, suggestive, making out, groping, boners (lmao)

༞ AFAB Reader.

༞ 2,329 words.

༞ Part 1/? Part 2.

Satoru Gojo was a real thorn in your side. Ever since you started at Jujutsu High as a teacher for the first-year students your superior- Satoru Gojo, has brought you nothing but headaches.

You were an aid for his class. Principal Yaga thought Gojo needed an extra hand with keeping the students on task. Your superior had a nasty habit of having last-minute field trips with his students when he didn't particularly feel like teaching. Which... was nearly every day.

You admit you had high hopes before you met "The Satoru Gojo". Putting on your brightest smile as you introduced yourself to him for the very first time. You even bought him Zunda as a peace offering, hoping it would smooth over well with the one and only.

But alas, he ignored you.

Completely.

He swiftly took the bag of goodies from your hand before perching himself atop his desk. Gojo swung his legs in a child-like manner as he began stuffing his annoyingly gorgeous face with your peace offering. Your jaw hung agape as you watched him do as he pleased. Not having a single ounce of respect for you.

If his actions didn't prove it enough, his following words solidified it.

"Let's get one thing straight, princess. I am in charge here, so don't make yourself too comfortable."

"Princess..?!"

From that day forward, things were... rocky between the two of you.

He would step on your toes, sometimes quite literally; just to tick you off. Gojo spoke over you, correcting you mid-sentence when you were teaching the students. He would show up late every morning, leaving you to cover for his ass when Principal Yaga made his rounds. Among many other pesky things that would take you hours to list.

Gojo was infuriating. Everything he did made your blood boil. But, with all that being said... why was it that he plagued your dreams each night?

You cursed his name each morning when you woke up from a heated dream where Gojo was the star of it. He was obnoxious, loud, arrogant and cocky. So why was it that your deepest desires; even in your subconscious mind, revolved around him?

I guess the saying is true... don't hate someone too much, It might bloom into love.

But alas, you acted like those dreams were nothing but a nuisance. Facing Gojo each morning with indifference. Pretending like he didn't plague your dreams was a cakewalk, and you would guard your dirty little secret like your life depended on it.

"Rough night, princess? You look like a total wreck!" Gojo quipped. He offered you a shit-eating grin as he swung his long legs up, crossing them atop his desk. Not having a care in the world for the papers that cascaded to the floor from his sudden action.

"Speak for yourself. Smells like you've been wearing that uniform for three days now." You sighed, placing your bag atop your desk before you took your seat.

"I've been wearing this uniform for five days actually, if we're keeping count." Gojo snickered, fiddling his pen between his long fingers with ease.

"That's repulsive, Gojo." Your face crinkled in disgust as you paid him no mind. All your focus shifting toward the ungraded papers on your desk.

"I was joking, princess! You don't actually believe I'm that filthy- do you?!" He chuckled once more before his attention was brought to the door by the sound of a stern knock.

"Nanami! Whatcha doin' here?" Gojo chimed, unmoving from his lax spot.

Nanami cleared his throat before striding toward your desk, completely ignoring Gojo. You sat up from your chair to greet Nanami with a small smile.

"Good morning, Nanami!" You spoke softly. You got a small glimpse of Gojo from behind Nanami's large frame as he pretended to gag himself with a pen from your gentle tone. You scowled before Nanami's words pulled you from your offense.

"Morning, Y/N. I've been meaning to ask- would you like to go to dinner with me tonight? You've been working hard these past few months since you started here, and I'd be more than happy to treat you out."

Nanami offered you a tight-lipped smile. You felt coy from his generous offer, stammering out your quick response. "Of course, I would love to! That's so kind of you, Nanami."

Your smile was wide as your eyes averted from Nanami's striking gaze. "It's the new place that opened up in town a few weeks ago. Meet me there when you finish up here for the day. I'll be patiently waiting for you."

With that, Nanami took his leave. He spared one last glance at you from the doorway before descending the hall. Gojo was now sitting upright. You could feel his gaze on you even past the blindfold. "Looks like someone's got a hot date tonight." He scoffed.

You rolled your eyes at your superior's childish musings. "It's not a date! Nanami is just being friendly. Quit assuming that, it's weird."

You went back to grading your student's papers. The thought of this night actually being a date with Nanami now plagued your brain.

"It's totally a date," Gojo muttered under his breath as his palm rested on the side of his cheek, supporting his head.

"So what if it is? Why does it matter so much to you anyway?" You snapped. Your head shot up as you now glared at him furiously. It was only eight in the morning, and he was already getting on your nerves.

Gojo stood, turning away from you. He began writing today's lesson on the chalkboard, not daring to answer either of your questions. His reaction took you off guard for sure. Gojo always had to have the last word, so why was he clamming up on you now?

You didn't have the chance to ask him again before your students began rushing into the classroom. You figured you would drop it anyway. Focusing on class today was more important.

The day zipped by like every other, and Yuuji was the last to leave as usual. Waving goodbye with his sunny smile that you cherished. You finished up the last of your paperwork for the day before checking the clock, that hung above Gojo's desk. It was getting late. Maybe if you left now, you would have some time to change before meeting Nanami.

"Let me drive you home." Gojo's voice pulled you from your train of thought as you pulled your coat on and slung your bag over your shoulder.

"I'd much rather take the train." You sighed, making your way to the door. "Turn off all the lights and lock the door this time! Principal Yaga will have both of our asses if you don't."

You descended toward the elevator, not caring to say goodbye to your perpetual pain-in-the-ass superior. You began planning out an outfit in your mind, overthinking if you should go casual or not. But just as you were about to press the ground floor button, Gojo snaked through. He offered you a sly grin before slotting himself behind you. He reached over you, taking the liberty of pressing the button.

"I'll admit, I'm a little hurt you didn't wave goodbye to me, princess." His breath tickled the shell of your ear from where he leaned forward slightly behind you. You felt a chill run down your spine from the proximity, whipping around to face him before shoving him back slightly. Having him invade your senses like that was dangerous.

"Don't be a baby. You know I have plans tonight." You glared daggers into the tall man standing before you. Tapping your foot in annoyance the more he tested your patience.

"Plans, huh? Don't you mean your hot date with the charming Nanami? What a dashing prince he is, perfectly suitable for a princess like you."

"You're a weirdo- and stop it with that nickname. I don't like it." You huffed. Crossing your arms over your chest, still glaring at his annoyingly perfect face.

"Oh, but calling you princess is the best part of my day. You know why?" Gojo trailed off, stepping closer to you. You could feel his intense gaze on you even past his blindfold as his chest came flush against yours. Your arms going limp at your sides.

"...Why?" You genuinely were curious, but your response only seemed to make Gojo's grin widen.

"Because watching you pretend that you hate it when you secretly love it is entertaining, princess."

Your blood boiled at his response, and you could feel yourself heating up inside and out. You brought your hands up to beat on his chest, but he grabbed your fists before you had a chance. Gojo pulled your balled-up fists closer to his chest, holding them tightly.

Before you could process it, Gojo took both of your fists between one of his large palms. His other hand pressed a tricky button on the elevator, causing the whole contraption to stop.

"Gojo- what the hell did you do that for?!" You were furious at this point. Trying with all your might to free your hands from his grasp, but to no avail.

"Princess, what are we doing?" His voice lowered an octave, seeming more serious than you've ever seen him before.

"What the hell are you talking about?" You knit your eyebrows together in confusion, still attempting to free your hands.

"Us, I'm talking about us. I'm tired of playing this game." Gojo spoke calmly, bringing his face even closer to yours.

"You mean us hating each other?" You scoff, trying to avert your gaze from his face. The proximity was causing you to feel butterflies, which you couldn't help but internally scold yourself for.

"Do you really hate me, princess?" Gojo sounded almost sad when he uttered those words, pulling your gaze right back to his annoyingly handsome face.

You stammered for a moment. Shaking your head in confusion before you whispered, "N-No, I mean... I don't know. Do you hate me?" You weren't sure what compelled you to ask him those four little words. But they were out in the open, no taking it back now.

Before you could process it, Gojo closed the small distance between you both. His lips gently brushed over yours as he finally released your hands from his grasp. Expirementally, his lips captured yours. Gojo's large palms came down to smooth over your sides as he deepened the kiss.

Your eyes were blown wide from the sudden affection coming from the man who plagued your dreams and tormented your days. But you couldn't deny that it felt good, that kissing him felt right. Gojo gasped against your lips as your hands came up to tug at his snowy tufts of hair.

This gave Gojo the confidence to trail his hands lower. His palms caressed the sides of your thighs before hoisting you up. On instinct, your legs wrapped around his waist. "Hah..." You let out a small whine as your back collided with the elevator wall.

"Oh my god..." Gojo groaned deeply, letting his kisses trail down your jaw and to your neck.

"W-What...?" You mindlessly questioned as you threw your head back. Completely lost in the pleasurable feeling of Gojo marking up your neck.

"That sound you just made. So heavenly, princess." Heat pooled in your core from his honest confession. Knowing your muffled whine had such an effect on him caused pride to flood your chest.

His slender fingers felt so hot against the fat of your ass as he kneaded the flesh with fervor. His pelvis was flush against yours, and you couldn't help but gasp at the feeling of his crotch pressing against yours. All of your fantasies were finally coming to fruition. If it wasn't for how real this all felt, you would have assumed this was just another one of your dreams.

"Hey, you guys okay in there?"

A gruff voice coming from the intercom built into the elevator pulled a gasp from your lips. You hurriedly pushed Gojo away as you found your footing. "Yeah, all good in here. Sorry! Must have pressed the wrong button."

Gojo lied through his teeth as he swiftly pressed a button, putting the elevator back in motion. You could hardly look at him as you adjusted your uniform, trying to fix your disheveled state.

"Did that answer your question, princess?" Gojo's words caused more heat to swirl in your tummy.

Oh, it answered your question alright. It's safe to say his little show of affection did more than just answer it.

You zipped right past him the moment the elevator stopped at the ground floor. You felt too embarrassed to say anything more at that moment. But more than that, really. You felt as if you didn't leave now; you wouldn't have been able to resist him.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you stormed out of the school building and toward the train station. How were you supposed to face Nanami after this? Especially if he thought this was a date. Gojo was a real prick for planting that seed in your head and then kissing you fervently the same day.

As your mind ran rampant, Gojo still lingered in the elevator. He slumped to the floor the second his back hit the wall. His slender digits caressed his lips. He could still feel the warmth of your skin against his plush mouth. His heart pounded in his chest, as he recounted every detail of what transpired only moments ago. Not helping to alleviate the painful tent in his pants in the slightest.

All Gojo could think about was how badly he wanted to kiss you again, to make you his and his alone. After finally getting a taste of you, there was no way in hell he would give you up now. Gojo was determined to win you over. No matter what it would take.

559 notes · View notes

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 6 months

Text

go for it! ; yuuta okkotsu

synopsis; yuuta’s been crushing on you ever since the first group project you had together, but he’s too nervous to confess. luckily, he has some over-eager friends willing to help! step 1: ask for your number!

word count; 7.4k

contents; yuuta okkotsu/reader, gn!reader, university au, yuuta majors in creative writing and writes poetry in his spare time <3, no curses au, yuuta is a cutiepie, he’s also a loserboy, pining and longing, one-sided love, maki inumaki and panda are wingmen (but not very good ones), fluffy vibes, gojo makes a guest appearance (stay safe), literally just yuuta being whipped for like 7k words straight

a/n; im gonna have to edit this a lot i think….. but for now it should be fine :3 i love the boy!!

”you’re staring. again.”

yuuta flinches. a jolt overtakes him, running through his body, and the pen he’d been absently writing with slips from his fingers. it tumbles down to the ground with a soft thunk.

gazing up at the shadow towering over him, his eyes are wide, a little flustered; like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. like he’s expecting a smack on the head from the person in front of him.

— it’s maki.

and she looks displeased, lips pursed and a single eyebrow raised. unimpressed, as she stares him down — the same way he’d been looking at you just a second ago.

”they’re gonna think you’re a creep if they catch you, you know,” she sighs, shifting from one foot to another. carrying her bass in a case on her back.

”maki, c’mon,” comes from behind her, an even larger figure strolling up to the pair. grinning brightly, fluffy hair tousled by the afternoon breeze. ”cut him some slack!”

”salmon,” a third voice joins in. inumaki’s got some green paint staining the sleeve of his hoodie, and his fingers are dirtied with charcoal.

his closest friends, all joining him on the table they usually frequent on campus. right next to a giant tree, casting a pleasantly cool shade and obscuring the irritating brightness of the sun.

maki, headstrong and resilient. infamously rude. a music major, primarily, though yuuta knows she has more than a couple minors. if you pay attention, you can see her almost everywhere on campus, and she always does well on exams. confident, enough so that just being around her makes yuuta feel a little more secure in himself.

panda, a big kid with a big heart, always wearing monochrome clothes. ‘panda’ can’t possibly be his real name, though yuuta’s never found the courage to ask. truthfully, he isn’t sure panda even has a major, or goes to this university at all — but nobody’s mentioned it yet, and he doubts they ever will.

and then inumaki, the quiet kid, always helpful and kind. a little teasing, too. selectively mute, speaking exclusively in rice ball ingredients, but yuuta has already begun adjusting to the thought behind his phrases. an art student with remarkable talent, from sculptures to comics to paintings. he mostly spends his lectures playing games on his phone, though. and he's the kindest guy yuuta knows.

his beloved friends. the reason he can smile through each day, even when it’s a little difficult.

and maki’s right, he knows she is. if you were to lock eyes with him, and realize he’d been glancing over at you for the past ten minutes… god, he doesn’t even want to think about it. you’d be weirded out for sure, wouldn’t you?

but yuuta just can’t help it. you’re far too radiant to ever look away from, smile much too pretty.

you’re just sitting there, laughing and talking with your friends, the same as any other day. comparing hand sizes with miwa, or leaning over to whisper in mai’s ear. snorting over something momo said, or trying to understand the code kokochi’s fiddling with on his laptop. just being yourself, with people you’re close to.

and yuuta desperately wishes he could be among them. wishes he could see your honeyed smile up close, hear the melodic lilt of your laughter, breathe in the lingering scent of your shampoo. he wishes he could speak to you without stuttering, without tripping over his feet — hang out with you outside of class. just something small, like studying together, or grabbing a bite to eat.

he wishes he could get to know you.

yuuta thinks he must seem like a fool, to be so affected by your mere presence. everything comes to him so easily, when he looks at you; the pitter patter of his heart, his sweaty hands, the whirlwind of butterflies swirling in his chest. even just the way you twirl your hair or chew on your pencil is so mesmerizing.

so all he can do is stare, hopeless, a moth to a flame. basking in the warmth of your gaze, directed at your friends.

hoping one day, maybe… that warmth will fall upon him, as well.

(maybe one day.)

”hellooo? earth to yuuta!”

”see? he’s hopeless.”

”mentaiko…”

”inumaki’s right. he’s a man in love!”

”he’s a boy with a stupid crush,” maki scoffs, picking at a piece of lint on her tank top. ”and we have a study session we need to get done. the exam’s next week, remember?”

exam.

yuuta shoots up, wasting no time in grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. the ring hanging around his neck dangles with the sudden movement, and he clutches onto it.

”ah — right!” he squeaks, apologetic. ”sorry, it completely slipped my mind —”

before his mind can begin to overthink every action he’s taken these past few hours, a hand reaches out to pat his shoulder. pat, pat. reassuring and stabilizing.

inumaki smiles at him. yuuta can’t see his mouth, from behind the fabric of his hoodie, but his eyes crinkle softly; and it’s enough to put yuuta’s heart at ease.

”don’t apologize,” maki says. simple, straightforward. ”let’s just get going. i need to do better than naoya did last time.”

”you’re still mad about that, huh?”

”he only got a higher score because i wasn’t on top of my game,” she grumbles, digging her nails into the pockets of her baseball jacket. ”he doesn’t even like music. he’s just taking the course to piss me off. grown ass man.”

a chuckle slips from yuuta’s lips. the warm breeze ruffles his hair, and he holds onto the strap of his backpack, following closely behind as his friends begin to leave. sending one final glance at your figure, over by a table near the apricot trees.

and that’s when it happens.

— he looks over at you, and finds that your eyes are already on him.

a moment passes.

while yuuta struggles to find his breathing, your lips curl up into a soft smile. then you raise your hand, waving to him cheerily, teeth peeking out from between your lips. he can see it clearly, even with the distance between you.

a smile that glimmers like a jewel, in the light of the sun.

yuuta feels his lips part, mouth falling open ever so slightly. but he waves back, afraid to take too long, unable to stop the pounding of his heartbeat — smiling giddily, like a schoolgirl tripping over her feet.

his friends just watch, wholly unimpressed.

”do you think he’d notice if i threw a rock at him?”

”maki!”

”what do you like about them, anyway?”

the question is unexpected. yuuta has to do a double take, eyes straying from his excerpt of sappho 31 up to the person seated across from him. tapping her pencil on the edge of the table, resting her sharp jaw on the heel of her palm.

”huh?”

”them. your crush,” maki reiterates. ”what caught your attention? there’s got to be something, yeah?”

”oh?” panda chirps, leaning back in his chair. a teasing grin playing at his lips. “i thought you didn’t care about his silly little crush.”

”i don’t.” a huff pushes past her lips, hands reaching to fix her lazy ponytail, hair tie dangling from between her teeth. ”i’m just bored. i already know all this, anyway.”

”tuna mayo.”

”oh, are you curious too, inumaki?”

”well, out with it. why them?”

yuuta blinks. once, then twice — mind spinning in circles, as his friends await his answer.

and, truthfully, yuuta can’t pinpoint the exact moment he felt it. that burst of joy, that tinge of excitement — the puppy love that rika always spoke of. she was always good at verbalizing her emotions, in a way yuuta never could.

(he always knew he loved her, but he could never put it into words.)

and he knows that he likes you. he knows because every word you speak has him stumbling over what to say, because even a single smile sent his way makes the world feel so gentle. he knows because he’d probably throw himself into incoming traffic, if you just asked him to.

but he can’t put it into words. not spoken ones, anyhow — putting them on paper is one thing, the one thing he can do. writing out his love for you in similes and metaphors, sonettes and alexandrines. it’s how he copes with everything; writing and writing, til his fingers start to hurt. he can compare you to a dandelion, to the way cicadas buzz in the light of the sun. the scent of childhood. but it’s harder to speak it out loud, to turn the feelings into sounds — that’s maki’s specialty, not his.

why does yuuta like you?

he remembers it clear as day, but still can’t pinpoint the exact second he fell headfirst into love. it was more of a creeping realization, something soft and sweet trickling through his veins. that sinking feeling, how helplessly he fell for you.

it all started with a pencil.

in hindsight, it’s a little silly. but yuuta can’t bring himself to think back to that moment with anything other than fondness.

(your smile was just so bright.)

that day had been a disaster. he was nervous, painfully so, afraid of every single new thing he came across during his first week of uni. scatterbrained, running on almost no sleep, unsure of where to put his feet as he walked.

honestly — what kind of trainwreck forgets their pen and notebook during their very first workshop?

all that anxiety, all those hours spent overthinking, and he still couldn’t manage something so small. in the moment, he almost panicked; sitting with you, a total stranger, wholly unprepared for such a simple assignment. read a couple excerpts, analyze them on paper. all yuuta could do was stare blankly at his lap, frozen, throat dry. hands cold with sweat.

but then you smiled.

”did you forget your notebook?” you had asked, voice set to a soothing tilt. calm, not angry or impatient.

”ah — yeah, i, um…” yuuta could only swallow thickly, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. ”i’m sorry. i haven't been sleeping well, so —”

”hey, hey, it’s fine!” you chuckled, teeth peeking out from between your lips. ”i totally get it. i almost forgot my laptop at yesterday’s lecture. we can just share!”

then you pushed your notebook closer to him, inviting him in. moving your chair a little, angling it towards him. but all yuuta could think of was how pretty your smile looked, how kind your presence felt.

”here you go,” you grinned, snapping him out of his trance. ”you can use this.”

a pencil. yuuta took it from your opened palm, gazing at it in wonder. an orange-coloured, halloween-themed pumpkin design. completely out of season. the tiny pumpkin was cute, though.

such a casual kindness. but maybe that's exactly why it made his heart flutter so deeply; as if you did it without even really thinking. as if kindness comes easy, to you.

that’s probably how it began. by the time the workshop ended, yuuta knew that he liked you, and he knew that he wanted nothing more than to be your friend.

(subconsciously, his fingers tap at the zipper of his backpack. the pumpkin pen is still with him, after you waved him off with a smooth you can keep it, if you want. yuuta has found that he always writes best when he uses it.)

”well?”

maki’s voice snaps him out of his trip down memory lane, and he stumbles for something to say. what does he like about you?

squirming, yuuta feels his face heat up, as he thinks of you. all he can see is your smile, the kindness in the tilt of your voice. the brightness of the grin you sent his way. warm and saccharine, like the sun peeking out after a downpour — when the streets smell like honeydew and rain.

”they’re just… so cool,” he finally sighs, a dreamy look smoothing over his face. ”they’re so nice. and their smile is so beautiful. they’re so smart, too — god, you should see the way they write — everything about them is just…”

yuuta blushes a deep red, smiling even still. lovesick. ”.. so, so wonderful.”

maki freezes in the midst of the tapping of her pencil. panda stops kicking at the foot of the table. and inumaki looks away from his phone, messing up his full combo.

a moment of silence passes. the study hall grows quiet, and yuuta looks down at his lap; suddenly embarrassed. sipping from his little carton of apple juice.

”hey…” panda starts, delicate. somehow, yuuta dreads the teasing edge to his voice. ”have you thought about confessing to them, yuuta?”

”what?” the boy in question squeaks, choking on his juice. ”no, of course not!”

”why?” maki deadpans. popping a chip into her mouth. ”you’re head over heels, right? might as well do something about it.”

inumaki hums. affirmative.

”i… don’t know,” yuuta sighs. a heavy breath, a little wobbly. meek. ”they’d just reject me, wouldn’t they? i mean…”

(you’re totally out of his league. right?)

maki scoffs, sitting up a little straighter. there’s an angered kind of affection in her eyes. ”you’re just deciding that all on your own. how would you know how they feel?”

the gaze she sends his way is intense. it always has been. there’s a kindness to it, though, something that makes yuuta want to look her in the eye — but he can’t, eyes still locked on his hands, resting in his lap. ”… still,” he manages a weak smile, somewhat sheepish. ”even if i wanted to, there’s no way i could. i’m too much of a coward.”

…

maki slams her textbook shut. the sound is sudden, loud. yuuta flinches, and a wince leaves inumaki’s lips. panda just watches her, snacking on some chips, a mild curiousity simmering in his eyes.

the girl in question gets up from her seat, grabbing her bass case and throwing it over her shoulder. then she looks at yuuta, eyes full of decision.

”— well, lucky for you, we’ve got some time to spare.”

a blink. yuuta gazes up at the girl in front of him, tilting his head in confusion.

maki sighs. exasperated. ”i’m saying we’ll help you. don’t look so resigned, dumbass.”

at that, panda gets up too — suddenly excited. ”are you thinking what i’m thinking?”

she just huffs, smiling even still. ”probably not. but let’s hear it.”

the grin on his face widens. he scribbles something down in his notebook, showing off the writing proudly. ”operation: get yuuta to confess is about to commence!”

inumaki turns off his phone. sitting up straight, arms decisively crossed, a strangely serious expression on his face. completely invested.

”wait — wait!” yuuta stutters, eyes wide with flustered shock. ”don’t i get a say in this?”

”of course not.”

”nope!”

”bonito flakes.”

”b… but —”

”alright, so here’s what i’m thinking,” panda begins, writing down unintelligible notes on the pages of his tattered notebook. ”we need to start small. we don’t want yuuta getting heart palpitations and fainting in the middle of campus, so —”

”tuna mayo?”

”yeah, that’s perfect! hang on, lemme just…”

”let me see. i don’t want you messing this up.”

yuuta’s voice comes out tiny, as it falls from his lips. more of a squeaky breath. ”guys, i really — you don’t need to —”

panda continues to scribble in the notebook, engrossed, arm hanging off maki’s shoulder as they go over the contents. inumaki nods along, walking over to them with lazy steps. yuuta’s protests go unnoticed, and all he can do is watch them mutter under their breaths.

”— okay. listen up, yuuta.”

he raises his head, and meets maki’s sharp eyes. she’s smiling, strolling over to place the notebook right in front of him. ”here’s how this is gonna go.”

yuuta looks down.

everything is written out with a pink sharpie, glittery and pretty. there are little hearts doodled out across the pages, and he can tell exactly which ones were drawn by who. all of them look messy, with the exception of inumaki’s perfect little shapes.

and there, right in the middle, lies a line of text.

panda reads it out, voice loud and cheery, while maki and inumaki stick close. all smiling, as a chill crawls down yuuta’s spine.

”step 1: ask for their number!”

plan a

”okay, so… what am i supposed to do, exactly?”

panda throws an arm over yuuta’s shoulder, and he’s enveloped by the scent of fresh sunlight. the weight is heavy, a comfort. ”we’re going with my plan first! it’s the best one, so don’t worry.”

”i don’t know about that,” maki scoffs. ”we can’t ask mai. best case scenario, she’ll laugh at us a little and say no.”

inumaki hums. he rips out a part of the notebook he’s been tasked with carrying, doodling a little face and showing it to the rest of his friends.

yuuta leans in close. it’s a cute doodle, charming. and he can tell who it’s supposed to depict. miwa kasumi.

”yeah, she’s our best bet,” maki sighs, brushing some specks of dust off her jeans. ”she seems like the nicest one in that group.”

yuuta tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. he plays with the ring hanging around his neck, a nervous tick he’s never managed to get rid of. ”wait, so…” he trails off, unsure. ”what are we doing, exactly?”

panda tugs him closer, a friendly smile on his face. ”we’re going to their friends for help!” he beams. ”that’ll be easier for you, right?”

a blink. yuuta gazes into the eyes of his friend, something soft blooming in his eyes.

they can be a chaotic bunch — but they’re still so considerate. considerate enough to know asking for your number straight out would be too much for him. considerate enough to think of his comfort, in a way no one else has bothered to before.

(faced with such immense understanding, such genuine friendship, how could he ever bear to let them down?)

”… alright,” yuuta gulps, clutching his ring as if to give him courage. managing a smile. ”let’s do this, then!”

with newfound determination, the four of them seek out miwa kasumi. it doesn’t take too long — she’s studying, going over legal codes in the library, eyes narrowed in concentration. and she isn’t alone.

”hey, miwa. muta.”

the pair look up from their respective textbooks and laptop, meeting the gaze of a certain maki zenin, waltzing over to their table. miwa smiles, but kokichi doesn’t say anything.

”hi, maki! how are you?”

”i’m good,” she answers, straight to the point; but her eyes soften a little. then she gestures towards yuuta with a tilt of her head. ”sorry, but this guy needs your help.”

”hm?” miwa shifts in her seat, meeting yuuta’s nervous gaze, as he steps forward. ”ah, you’re… okkotsu, right?”

”ah, yeah! sorry for interrupting you two…”

”no, no! please, don’t worry about it,” she grins. sweet and soft, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. ”we don't mind. right?”

kokichi still doesn’t say anything. but he nods, when miwa meets his eyes — and yuuta notices that they seem a lot softer when she does.

”so, here’s how it is…”

panda explains the situation to the pair. yuuta looks down at the floor, face flushed as he shifts from foot to foot. by the time he’s finished, miwa looks wholly invested, and kokichi looks a little less like all he wants is for them to leave him and miwa be.

”awww, that’s so sweet!!” she gushes, clasping her hands together. eyes glimmering with excitement.

”right,” maki hums. already a little impatient. ”so, basically — we need their number.”

”… ah. well, um —” miwa trails off, averting her gaze. she looks over at kokichi, but he only shrugs, going back to his coding. ”see, here’s the thing…”

with an apologetic look in her eyes, she turns to yuuta. ”i support you 100% — but i dunno if it’d feel right to just… give away their number like that, you know?” she mumbles, sheepishly. ”i think you should ask them, yourself. that’d be way more romantic!”

”yeah, but that’s a tall hurdle for a socially anxious guy…” panda mutters, patting yuuta’s back.

”still! i’m sure they’d appreciate you being direct.” miwa closes her eyes, a dreamy expression painted on her face. ”i’d be elated if someone asked for my number like that!! all stuttering and shy… it’d be so cute!”

(if anyone notices kokichi stiffening beside her, they don’t mention it.)

maki sighs, resigned. ”well, i don’t think we’re getting any numbers here. good. what kind of creep just texts someone out of nowhere, anyway?”

”i thought it was a good plan!” panda protests, pouting a little. maki shoots him a look.

”it was an awful plan. what were you planning to say? hey, i forced your friend to give me your number, but would you want to hang out sometime?” she crosses her arms with a sharp scoff. ”i’d beat your ass!”

panda grumbles a little under his breath, but doesn’t say anything.

”sorry i couldn’t be of more help,” miwa mumbles, sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. ”good luck, though! i hope they say yes!”

”thanks, miwa,” yuuta smiles, already in the process of being tugged away by his friends. ”i really appreciate it!”

plan a

plan b

”alright, inumaki’s turn. what’s your take on the situation, mister?”

the boy in question sits up straight, back resting against a tree trunk. he writes something down, and yuuta waits, patiently — absentmindedly staring at the white petals of the apricot trees on campus. pure, fleeting, sweet blossoms unfurling before him.

when he’s finished, inumaki presents the page to yuuta, and everyone gathers round. reading the writing, eyes trailing over his little doodles. panda grins, and maki strokes her chin in contemplation.

”you’re a genius, inu!”

”well, it’s probably the easiest way to go about it…”

yuuta purses his lips. it’s a good plan, he thinks; writing out a note, and passing it to you in the middle of class. that way, he won’t have to turn his feelings into sounds, won’t have to speak them out loud. there’s a safety to it, the trickling of ink across blank papers. one that’s never failed him.

”… that should work,” he mumbles, and inumaki visibly brightens. ”what am i supposed to write, though?”

”just be straightforward.”

”not seconded!” panda huffs, crossing his legs. ”you need to be dramatic. heartfelt. that’ll catch their attention!” he stops to think for a moment, a hum buzzing loudly in his throat. ”hey — why not write them a love poem? put those skills to good use!”

”a love poem?” yuuta squeaks, a slight heat rising to the tips of his ears. ”there’s no way i could do that! and i’m not skilled, i —”

a pause. yuuta bites his lip.

”… it’d just be embarrassing,” he finally mutters, playing with his ring.

(he wonders what rika would think, if she were here. what she’d advise him to do — would she like the love poem idea? probably.)

”well, you could at least try. who knows, maybe they’ll like it,” maki attempts to reassure him, chewing at a piece of gum. ”if they’re anything like miwa, it’ll be easy.”

gnawing at his bottom lip, yuuta emits an anxious hum. deep in thought. maybe you would like it, but… what if you just think it’s cheesy?

maki observes him, intently. listening to the emotions behind his silence. tapping the pads of her fingers on her knee, in a rhythmic motion. ”… at least try writing something out,” she says. ”if you can’t think of anything, then just copy some random old guy. what was his name, uh — catallas? or something?”

yuuta’s gaze snaps up, eyes gone wide. ”catullus?” he gapes, in disbelief. ”are you insane? do you even know what kind of poems he wrote?”

maki shoots him a confused look, and a tilt of her head. ”isn’t he the ’give me a thousand kisses’ guy?”

”he is, but that’s —” a sigh, exasperated. flustered, as it flows from his parted lips. then he shakes his head. ”nevermind. it doesn’t matter.”

”tuna…” inumaki mumbles, nudging yuuta’s shoulder with his head. a silent encouragement. and even with no words, yuuta knows what he’s trying to say.

just be yourself. this is your specialty, right?

write from your heart.

”inumaki…” yuuta meets his gaze, and is met with a pair of warm eyes. a friendly punch meets his shoulder, soft and delicate. kind.

”… alright. i’ll write it!”

”that’s the spirit!” panda grins. ”just give it to them during tomorrow’s lecture.”

”yeah,” yuuta nods, mustering the courage to smile. ”i will!”

when yuuta gets home that night, he makes himself a cup of coffee with too much sugar, and gets ready to write.

he listens to maki’s acoustic guitar covers through his headphones, curled up with the fluffy blanket panda gave him, and munches on a hastily made onigiri to give himself much-needed energy.

(writing with a certain pumpkin-themed pencil, basking in the scratching of lead against blank pages.)

his hands are shaking.

it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. that nervous shiver of his bones, the rattling of his skeleton. you’re sitting right next to him, so close he can smell the shampoo you use, the mint off your breath —

and yuuta can’t seem to hand you the note.

he spent all last night writing it. putting every single little drop of his love into every single little word. but that fear of rejection still remains, rendering him useless, unable to act.

you’re listening to the lecture, but only halfheartedly, absentmindedly doodling in your notebook. out of boredom, he assumes.

it’s the perfect moment to strike.

yuuta’s hands are shaking, and his heartbeat is stuttering, crawling up his throat. he takes a sip of water, hoping it’ll make the dry sensation go away, but it doesn’t work.

(just be yourself.)

with a deep intake of breath, he pushes the note over to you — not daring to look your way.

his eyes remain glued on the laptop screen in front of him, but he hears you pick it up, hears the rustling of paper as you unfold it. his heart echoes with a similar rhythm, unstable, borderline erratic. the rest of the lecture passes by slowly, minute by minute, at an agonizing pace.

when it finally ends, yuuta has to restrain the urge to run away — turning towards you slowly, hesitantly, as if just the sight of you could blind him if he isn’t careful. but you’re already looking at him. and you’re smiling.

”that was so good, yuuta!”

….

huh?

”sorry, but i honestly don’t have any feedback,” you mumble, eyes trailing over the note again. ”i like it a lot. i didn’t know you wrote poetry!”

”… ah.” yuuta stumbles for something to say. staring into your eyes, blankly. dumbly. ”t.. thank you! i’m glad you liked it.”

with a brief shake of your head, you smile, and something sickly sweet unfurls in his chest. ”not at all. thanks for letting me read it! i’m sorry i can’t really help you improve…”

mentally, yuuta falls to his knees. places his palms on the floor and dry heaves, clutching his heart. did you not get it? was he not clear enough? he wrote it with you in mind, so —

”maybe you could show it to professor nanami?” you suggest, unaware of the turmoil within the boy to your right. ”i'm sure he’ll be a great help! he can seem a bit intimidating, but he’s nice.”

”.. yeah,” yuuta smiles, weakly. ”i’ll do that. thanks again.”

for a moment, he isn’t even upset. because you flash him another bright smile, and suddenly, even the frustration of yet another setback doesn’t feel so awful.

(maybe it’s fine, he thinks. maybe this is enough; speaking to you, getting to see your smile up close. maybe he doesn’t need anything else, after all.)

”so?” maki questions, waiting for him outside of class with his other two friends. ”how’d it go?”

shoulders slumped, but still wearing a smile on his face, yuuta chuckles. it comes out sounding a little strangled. ”they… thought i wanted their feedback on my poetry.”

….

”what.”

panda attempt to stifle his laughter, but it doesn’t really work. inumaki elbows him gently, but yuuta sees his eyes crinkle, too. he breathes out a low chuckle. ”they liked the poem, at least. so i’m happy.”

a sigh falls from maki’s lips, and she waltzes over to him, a hand on her hip. the other reaches out for the note in his palm. ”let me see.”

quickly unfolding it, her eyes trail across the words on the pages, the flowery lines of writing —

and then she shoots him an unimpressed look.

”.. yuuta,” she pinches the bridge of her nose. ”what the hell is this? you didn’t even mention their number.”

panda leans over her shoulder, peeking at the text. eyes glancing over a couple lines, riddled with sugarsweet metaphors. ”uh, wow. you… really got into it, huh?”

a groan leaves yuuta’s lips, the sound muffled as he cradles his head in his hands. ”please don’t say anything else. i just wanna crawl into a hole and die…”

inumaki shakes his head, erratic, pointing at the poem with shining eyes. ”mentaiko!”

”ah, you liked it? thanks, inumaki…”

the boy in question smiles, shooting yuuta a thumbs up. he returns it with a small smile of his own.

surrounded by his friends, all he can do is bask in their warmth — and the memory of the smile you gave him.

plan a plan b

plan c

a groan fills the air, as yuuta slumps over the table. cheek pressed against the cold wood, absently kicking his legs, voice meek and defeated.

”this is never gonna work,” he mutters under his breath. eyes devoid of hope. ” i’m just not cut out for this, guys…”

”aw, c’mon….” panda reaches over to ruffle his hair, palm big and warm. ”don’t give up hope! you want to grow closer to them, don’t you?”

”i do, but…” he sighs. ”this isn’t going very well, is it…?”

inumaki frowns, sending yuuta a sympathetic glance.

”oh, quit moping already!” maki grumbles. ”we just need to keep brainstorming. isn’t it time for my plan, yet?”

”should we really even keep going…?” another sigh, heavy with fatigue. yuuta’s mind spins in circles, tiring him out. rendering him a bit cynical. ”i mean… maybe it’s fine if things stay this way.”

a moment passes. maki looks at him, emitting a soft scoff. ”what, so you’re just gonna keep pining for the rest of the term?”

”that’s the plan.”

”yuuta…” panda pouts, shoes bumping against his beneath the table. ”be more positive! just think about it; with every step you take, you get closer to confessing!”

yet another groan. this one is deep, riddled with exhaustion. muffled into the table. ”that’s the scariest part…”

before either of his friends can begin to persuade him otherwise, encourage him further, a sing-songy voice echoes throughout the air. loud, cheery — a little bit obnoxious.

”oh? did someone just say confess?”

at the same instant the sound reaches their ears, a chill runs down the youths’ spines. in tandem with each other, they raise their heads; gazes falling on a certain satoru gojo.

panda and maki are the first to act, speaking simultaneously as the white haired man inches closer.

”— no.”

maki closes the notebook containing operation: get yuuta to confess, right before their professor can get close enough to see it. then she turns towards him, shooting him a cold look.

”your hearing’s getting bad,” she hums. ”maybe you should book a doctor’s appointment.”

a pout. gojo takes a seat right beside her, uncomfortably long legs bumping against every single other pair of shoes beneath the table.

”oh, c’mon. you know i heard you.” his hand reaches out to ruffle her hair, but she smacks it away. ”you’re starting to sound just like megumi, y’know that?”

maki grits her teeth. ”guess it’s a genetic thing,” she huffs. ”now can you leave? don’t you have papers to grade?”

”don’t you have papers to write?” gojo smirks, a teasing mirth in his eyes. hidden behind his sunglasses. maki ignores him.

placing his palms on the table, he leans a little closer, lips curled up into a cheshire grin. foreboding. ”sooo… yuuta’s got himself a little crush, huh?” he teases. ”tell your favorite professor allll about it. maybe i can help!”

”professor geto is our favorite,” maki shoots back, instantaneous.

a soft huff. there’s something sour in gojo’s expression, now. ”that guy? really?”

before the two can argue further, yuuta takes the opportunity to to speak. smiling apologetically, polite and sweet. ”thanks, mr. gojo, but…”

”he doesn't need your help,” maki cuts in. so much for diffusing the tension. ”and do you really expect us to believe you get girls?”

”wha — rude!” gojo scoffs. ”for your information, i’m a natural charmer!”

…

a moment passes. then another.

”… tough crowd,” he clicks his tongue, met only with four blank stares. ”but, really — let me help! i'm your professor, you know?”

and this time, yuuta thinks that gojo’s smile looks just a little more sincere. something kind and gentle in the way his lips curl up, like a father’s affection for their children. something that makes yuuta falter.

(maki might like mr. geto more — but when it comes to yuuta, his favorite professor is a no-brainer.)

so he speaks up, again. ”we can at least hear him out, right…?” maki shoots him an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t back down. ”we’re stuck, anyway…”

and just like that, gojo brightens. it’s obvious, in the way he sits up, more alert. in the way his grin grows wider. ”right? what you need is the perspective of someone more experienced.”

”have you even talked to a girl before?”

”i see him at ieiri’s office, sometimes.”

”salmon.”

”isn’t she a lesbian? that doesn’t count. i mean, like, in a romantic context.”

”i thought mr. gojo was gay, too?”

”what? no way. have you seen the way he’s dressed —?”

gojo clears his throat, voice loud and grating. demanding attention, cutting his eager students off. ”anyway,” he chirps. ”gather round, children! i’ll tell you exactly how to ask the person you like for their number.”

”wh —” yuuta blinks. ”how’d you…?”

”operation ’get yuuta to confess!’, step 1: ask for their number!” gojo repeats, grinning ear to ear. voice rich with amusement. ”i like the glitter. it’s a nice touch.”

maki huffs. looks like she didn’t close it fast enough.

begrudgingly, the youths quiet down, finally willing to hear their professor out. and gojo seems satisfied, at last, speaking in a hushed whisper; eerily serious all of a sudden. ”ok, so here’s what you do…”

everything goes silent. yuuta strains his ears, and gojo parts his lips.

”— just ask them! easy, right?

….

”let’s go, yuuta.”

”mentaiko.”

”i heard they're serving those sandwiches you like at the cafeteria today! let's hurry before they run out.”

”ah — i was just kidding!” gojo laughs, as his students get up from their seats. ”i have an actual answer!”

maki grabs her bass, inumaki takes the notebook, and panda ushers yuuta away. they begin to walk down the hall, ignoring the pleas of the man behind them. pouting, as his shout echoes throughout the hallway.

”kids! come back!”

plan a plan b plan c

plan d

”okay, so this is going absolutely nowhere.”

relishing in the shadow cast by the giant campus tree, the four friends sit on their usual table, sandwiches in hand. yuuta takes a bite of his, tentative. a little disheartened.

”really, guys… i appreciate it a lot, but maybe we should stop here.”

maki huffs. reaching across the table, she gently smacks him over the head with her can of sprite. ”no way. we still haven’t tried my plan.”

he leans back, a little further, a hesitant look in his eyes. the sun shines down, relentless, but the air smells like rain. in the distance he sees clouds, dark, approaching at a slow pace.

an omen, he thinks. a reason not to speak out.

rika always liked the rain. she liked the scent that came with it, the puddles she could jump in. she liked shaking the branches of tiny trees, just to see him jolt and squeak as the raindrops hit him.

the ring around his neck weighs heavy on his heart. the promise of it, the oath within the silver.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!)

”earth to yuuta!”

his eyes flutter open.

the sun shines down, embracing the contours of his face. painting his world yellow. from this angle, staring up at the tree, he can see it breaking through; between the gaps of the green leaves, the white blossoms. forcing its way into his line of vision.

a flicker of hope.

”do you want to hear the plan or not?” maki scoffs, crossing her arms and tapping at her elbow. impatient.

yuuta meets her gaze, finding it in him to muster up just a little more determination. ”yeah,” he breathes. ”i do.”

a smile blooms on her face. ”good. alright.”

panda and inumaki inch closer to the pair, careful not to knock over the cans of soda resting on the table. in a mess of limbs and tousled hair, they gather round.

this is it, yuuta thinks — the final plan. if it fails, he’ll just have to keep pining from afar. memorizing your smile, over and over, until you graduate and part ways.

this is it.

maki parts her lips.

”— just ask them,” she says. ”straight out.”

silence.

a moment passes. a soft, pleasant breeze flits by, caressing yuuta’s skin. his ring sways with the wind, gently.

”… huh?!”

panda furrow his brows, leaning closer with his palms on his knees. ”i thought we agreed that was stupid!” inumaki huffs out a low affirmative noise, holding his sketchbook tightly to his chest. but maki only puffs out her chest.

yuuta tilts his head, with a soft furrow of his brows. ”didn’t you just cuss out mr. gojo for suggesting that…?”

”well, it’s dumb when he says it…” she mutters, under her breath. then her gaze turns firm. ”look — yuuta.”

when the two lock eyes, he notices a steadfast determination, glimmering in her irises. something almost burning.

”you aren’t going to get anywhere if you’re too cowardly to even look them in the eye,” she tells him, not allowing him to squirm away from the eye contact. ”you guys can come up with those convoluted plans all you want, but there’s no way you’ll grow closer if you can’t face them.”

tousling her hair, softly, maki lets out a sigh. there’s a kindness to it, distinct. he can tell she’s trying to be tactful.

”if you really want to get to know them, then you have to be direct. and you have to believe in yourself. you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that they’ll say no — but that’s just dumb.”

panda winces, under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. maybe this is exactly what yuuta needs to hear.

the boy in question listens, the eyes of his friend boring into his own. determined, confident, sincere — everything he isn’t. everything he wants to be.

”even if you don’t believe it, you’re a charming guy. we all think so,” she continues, matter-of-factly. angered affection overflowing in her voice.

”have some confidence, dammit!”

a moment passes. yuuta feels his lips part, ever so slightly. a little speechless.

panda and inumaki sit shoulder to shoulder, hands over their eyes, shielding themselves from the sight in front of them. comically, as if it’s too bright to look at directly.

”this… overflowing tough love…!”

”salmon roe…!”

maki grins, all teeth, a little wolfish. but kind. ”the worst thing they can say is no, right?

yuuta blinks. ”maki…” he mumbles, looking into her eyes, a certain sensation running through his chest. a kind of confidence. passed on from her to him — one friend to another. the most natural exchange in the world.

then he smiles. a little meek, somewhat awkward — but bright. ”yeah. yeah, you’re right!”

the lazy grin on her lips only deepens, as she gets up to her feet, dusting non-existent dirt off her jeans. reaching a hand out for yuuta to take. ”c’mon, loser. shape up. you’re gonna steal their heart, aren’t you?”

a moment passes.

yuuta takes her hand in his. ”i am,” he swallows down a gulp. willing his voice to sound even a little bit self-assured.

and she pulls him up, effortlessly, overflowing with a natural resilience. still grinning cheekily. encouraging him. ”you’re gonna go out there and do your best, right?”

”i — i am!”

another voice chimes in. ”you’re gonna finish my essay for me this week, right?”

”i am!”

…

”wait —”

maki hits panda over the head with a soft thwack. a wince leaves his lips, and inumaki giggles, quieting down when maki sends him a warning glance.

”don’t throw him off his game,” she huffs. then she turns to yuuta once more. ”let’s go find them. alright, loverboy?”

a smile blooms on his lips. grateful, to be surrounded by such sunny people. ones that make it a little easier to smile each day. ”right.”

— but before either of them can take a step forward, a warm voice spills into the open air.

”um, yuuta?”

the boy in question stops in his tracks. he feels his eyes widen, spinning on his heels, hair ruffled by the breeze — turning to look at the source of the sound.

it’s you.

you, with your sunkissed smile, that inviting voice. that soothing, soothing presence. one that has his heartbeat picking up in speed, hands growing sweaty, throat running dry. one that makes him feel a little bit feverish. and you’re looking right at him, into his eyes.

”hey!” he sputters, blinking rapidly to convince himself that he isn’t hallucinating. but you just keep smiling, answering his awkward greeting without skipping a beat.

”hi! sorry, could i just… talk to you, for a second?”

he blinks. the world stops spinning.

(you… want to talk….

to him?)

attempting to find the words, any words, he opens his mouth — but nothing comes out. not a single syllable, no vowels, not even a sound. nothing at all.

he can only stare, star-struck.

it’s not until his friends push him forward that he’s snapped out of it; they surround him, on all sides, wearing matching grins. teasing and excited.

”don’t worry, he’s all yours!”

”have fun, you two!”

”salmon!”

— then they’re off.

yuuta tries to reach for their sleeves, in a weak attempt to keep them from leaving, but they’re gone before he can even blink. leaving him all alone, with someone he can’t talk to without experiencing intense symptoms of heart failure.

he stumbles for something to say, again, but thankfully you beat him to it.

”sorry for interrupting you guys,” you say, voice set to a low tilt. apologetic. and his throat unclogs, a little.

”ah, no, it’s fine!” he smiles, maybe a little too giddy. wanting so badly to reassure you, to put you at ease. ”i’m happy to speak to you!”

…

(oh god oh no why did i say that —)

your smile widens, blooming like a flower in the sunlight. unfurling in front of his very eyes. ”me too!” you say, excitedly. ”i feel like you and i have been talking more, recently… it’s nice.”

eyes crinkling, you wringle your hands together, and look at him fondly. yuuta’s surprised he manages to keep his knees from buckling.

”i think so too!” he grins, ears pink and dimples showing.

both of you smile. the breeze curls around your hair, illuminating the colour of your eyes. yuuta stops breathing, for a moment — just taking it all in.

”so — anyway…” you murmur, fiddling with the fabric of your pants. ”um… haha. sorry, i’m — a little nervous…”

yuuta blinks.

(he knows where this is going. all the signs are there, right in front of him; the flush of your cheeks, the nervous tapping of your fingers, the hesitance in your eyes. he’s read enough shoujo manga — he knows what this means.)

and he almost can’t believe it.

all he can do is keep smiling, hoping it’ll give you even a fraction of the peace that your smile brings him. ”don’t be,” he says, voice soothing. scratching the back of his head. ”whatever it is, i’ll — um. i’ll listen, so…”

he clears his throat. swallowing thickly.

”just — whenever you're ready.”

there’s no mistaking it. your ears are painted pink, and you’re gnawing at your bottom lip. fiddling with your fingers and avoiding his gaze, with a soft inhale, clear air filling your lungs. he wonders if your throat feels as dry as his, if your heart is beating even half as fast.

”um… okay, so…” you mumble, eyes unable to stay in one place for too long. a soft bout of laughter escapes you, and he can tell you’re trying to stave off your own nervosity; it sends a pang of ache running through his chest.

he wants to tell you that there’s no need to be nervous. that he’d listen to anything you have say, absolutely anything, no matter what it is.

he wants to tell you that he’d never let you down, that he’d have to be foolish to even think the thought.

he wants to tell you that he’ll hear you out. whenever, wherever. for as long as you need.

”do you, um…”

a gulp. your eyes find his, and there’s a soft kind of decisiveness in them.

here it comes, he thinks. here it comes.

yuuta feels the heat on his cheeks, ears burning. and he hears the patter of his heartbeat, loud and heavy, echoing in his muddled mind like a mantra. but his chest feels light; fluttery, butterflies dancing around uncontrollably.

clutching the ring around his neck, subconsciously, he looks you in the eye.

they’re bright, glimmering like little galaxies — or maybe more like summer skies. painted over with a warm hue, something nostalgic and sweet, so pretty it hurts. if he strains his eyes enough, he’s almost sure he can see the swirling of fluffy clouds in the depths of your irises.

a smile rests on your lips. it's almost overwhelmingly sweet, albeit a little shy, as you part your pretty lips. voice soaked in nervosity, tingly and shaky, and something he knows to be puppy love.

a shallow, dry intake of breath. yuuta braces himself.

here it comes.

your voice spills out into the air, dripping with honey and magnolias. he thinks to himself that he’d like to hear the melodic lilt of it every single day; before going to bed, right after waking up. walking to campus together, heading back to the dorms when the sky gets dark.

just the sound alone would be enough.

subconsciously, he tugs on the strap of his backpack. thinking of the pencil inside it. his lucky charm, along with the ring around his neck — ordinary objects, both too precious for words.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!

you can keep it, if you want.)

here it comes, yuuta thinks.

a new beginning.

he strains his ears, and purses his lips, and watches your lips move as you finally ask —

”do you have maki’s number?”

(somewhere in the distance, from an inconspicuous bush, the muffled screams of three students and one professor resounds.)

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lostfracturess · 3 months

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【 ꜱʏᴍᴘᴛᴏᴍꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇꜱ 】 ch. 04

x pairing professor!gojo x med student f!reader (medical au)

x summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

x wc 7.9 k

x warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

x author's note has anyone asked for a bit of angst? dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

It had been a week since you had your unconventional date with Gojo. You were back in practical class, relieved that it didn't involve drawing blood like the last time.

Yuta surely was thankful for that.

Doctor Kento was demonstrating how to perform various types of stitches. You paid close attention, even though you knew most of the stitches by heart. When it was time for the students to try, you picked up the needle and thread, grabbed an orange and began to stitch.

You never learned to suture on fruit before, but it must be easier than working on actual human skin, right?

"Bet I can finish my stitches before all of you," Yuta chimed in, a grin spreading across his face as he expertly threaded his needle.

Maki glanced at him. "You're on, Okkotsu. But don't come crying to me when I beat you."

The two worked with newfound speed, their needles weaving through the orange peel. Yuta finished his line first. "See, what did I tell you?" he said with a smile.

Maki leaned closer to inspect his stitching. "Not bad," she admitted. "But check out your spacing here, Yuta. It's a bit off."

Yuta squinted at his work. "Ah, you're right. Gotta work on that."

"And... done!" you said, holding up your perfectly sutured orange.

Yuta turned to look at your work. "Wow, that's some neat stitching. Makes mine look like child's play."

"Impressive," Toge said.

Maki paused her stitching to glance at your handiwork. "Seriously impressive," she commented. "How'd you get so good?"

You smiled. "I had to learn a few things on my own before university," you explained. "And I guess some practice outside of class helped too."

As you finished your set of stitches, doctor Kento came over to inspect your work. His eyebrows raised as he examined the neat line of sutures. "Excellent work," he said. "And I thought you were a failure in practical class, after the mess you made with the blood withdrawal."

Ouch.

Why was he always so direct.

You and your friends were fully engaged in the session, focused on perfecting your suturing techniques. Suddenly, the door opened and professor Gojo entered. He moved towards Kento's desk, as if to retrieve something.

Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Gojo's gaze found you across the room. His eyes met yours, and a small smile appeared on his lips. You watched him as he walked over to Kento.

Maki leaned closer to you. "Oh, look, Dr. Handsome graces us with his presence," she said. "Isn't it strange how often he shows up around you?"

"Only strange coincidences," you replied, but Maki's raised eyebrow told you she wasn't entirely convinced.

Gojo finished his brief conversation with Kento and made his way over to your group. The others paused, needles in mid-air, as he approached.

"Hello there." His gaze swept over the group and then rested on you. "I see you're all making good progress with your suturing."

Yuta leaned back in his chair. "We're doing our best, professor. But she over here is putting us all to shame," he said, nodding towards you.

Gojo's smile broadened. "Is that so?"

He walked over to you, a bit too close for the classroom setting. He picked up one of your stitched oranges, turning it over in his hands. "Impressive precision."

"But perhaps a bit basic for your skill level," he added, his eyes meeting yours briefly before he picked up another orange from the table. He pulled a chair up to your table, sitting down close enough that his knee brushed against yours under the table.

"Have you ever tried a subcuticular suture?"

"No, I haven't."

Gojo grabbed an unused needle and thread. "Let me show you."

Your friends gathered around, watching as Gojo skillfully maneuvered the needle through the orange peel. "Subcuticular suturing is an intradermal suture that minimizes scarring. You need a steady hand and some patience to do it."

The needle dipped in and out of the orange peel, leaving a nearly invisible line on the surface. "The key is consistent tension," he explained. "Imagine you're weaving, each pass of the needle equidistant to the last, and the thread tension must be just enough to approximate the edges without puckering the tissue."

Once finished, he held up the orange for everyone to see. "See?"

He tossed another orange towards you. Your caught it just in time. "Your turn," he said.

Gojo leaned further towards you, his leg touching yours under the table. Then you felt a hand resting on your thigh. You jumped slightly and immediately kicked him with your foot under the table.

God, Gojo, keep it professional, at least in class.

He received the message and gave you a quick, sly smile that you hoped would go unnoticed by your friends.

With Gojo still watching closely, you began to work on the orange, trying to mirror the technique he had just demonstrated. The stitch was more complex than you were used to. And it didn't help that Gojo was so close.

"Angle the needle a bit more... that's it. Now, even tension as you pull through," he said. You were acutely aware of every comment, every slight touch as he pointed out adjustments.

When you finished, Gojo examined your work, his fingers brushing lightly against your hands as he reached for the orange. "Well done," he said. "You're a quick learner. Or perhaps I'm just a good teacher?"

Sure.

At that moment, Kento approached your table, his gaze lingering on the two of you for a brief second. "Taking over my class, Gojo?"

Gojo straightened, turning to face Kento with a relaxed posture. "Not in the slightest, Kento," he replied. "Only sharing a new technique with the students."

"Well, ensure it doesn't become a regular occurrence," he said. "Managing these students is challenging enough. I don't need any additional burdens."

"Understood, Kento," Gojo said, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I'll leave the teaching to the experts, then."

He turned his attention back to you and your friends. "Keep practicing, students," he said, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. As Gojo moved to leave the classroom, he cast one last glance in your direction, his smile lingering.

After he left, Maki leaned closer to you, a suspicious look in her eyes. "You know, he looks at you a bit too long to be just your research partner," she observed in a low voice.

Your stomach fluttered. "Does he?"

Maki leaned back, her eyes studying you closely. "Yeah, It's pretty obvious."

You hesitated, searching for the right words. "We've just gotten to know each other better recently. That's all."

"Uh huh," Maki replied. "Just be careful, okay? He's your professor, after all."

The conversation came to an abrupt halt as Kento redirected the class's attention to the front.

─── ·✧· ───

Later that day, the campus was bathed in warm sunlight, the air filled with the chatter and laughter of students enjoying a break between classes. You were sprawled out on a blanket in the grass with your friends, Toge, Maki, and Yuta, basking in the pleasant warmth of the early afternoon sun.

The breeze, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass, rustled through the leaves of the trees. Birds high above scurried and chirped. The world seemed to slow down for a moment, allowing you all to enjoy this brief respite from the university's hustle.

As you lay there, soaking up the sun, your phone buzzed with a new message. Glancing at the screen, you saw Gojo's name. Your stomach fluttered. You sat up, shielding your phone from the sunlight to read the message.

[3:12 PM] Gojo: Why aren't you here?

[3:12 PM] You: Where?

[3:12 PM] Gojo: With me.

[3:13 PM] You: Just done with class.

[3:13 PM] Gojo: Done with class, but not with me. How about we change that?

[3:14 PM] You: Is that an invitation or a challenge?

[3:14 PM] Gojo: Consider it both. I'm at the cafe, and it's missing your presence.

[3:15 PM] You: How tragic. Perhaps, I could be persuaded to change scenery.

[3:15 PM] Gojo: I'm sure I can provide a few persuasive arguments.

[3:16 PM] You: Such as?

[3:16 PM] Gojo: The best coffee on campus, for starters. And, of course, the pleasure of my company.

[3:17 PM] You: Tempting, professor.

[3:17 PM] Gojo: I aim to convince. Join me, and let's see if I can sway your decision further.

[3:18 PM] You: Give me 5 minutes.

[3:18 PM] Gojo: I'll be waiting, first-year.

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. Slipping your phone into your pocket, you turned to your friends. "I've got to step out for a bit."

Maki raised an eyebrow. "Mysterious meeting with a certain professor?"

You laughed it off, feeling the warmth of a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Just a coffee break. Nothing to gossip about," you replied, gathering your things.

As you stood up, Maki gave you a knowing look, but she didn't press further. "See you later then," she said with a smile.

You made your way to the campus cafe. The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves of the trees that lined the path, casting dappled shadows on the ground. As you approached, you spotted Gojo waiting outside, casually leaning against a wall. His eyes scanned the crowd until they settled on you.

A smile played on his lips as he pushed off the wall and strolled over to you. "I was starting to think you'd ditched me," he teased, his snow-white hair falling loosely across his forehead.

"Ditching my favorite professor? Never," you quipped back, falling into step beside him. Entering the campus cafe, you both queued up to grab coffees.

"So I'm your favorite, huh?" he said. "I'm flattered."

"Well, you do make things more interesting."

"Is that so?" He leaned in slightly closer. "I'm not just an interesting professor, you know."

"Oh?" you responded, your tone feigning innocence. "Pray, enlighten me, professor Gojo."

His lips curved into a sly smile. "Well, that's a conversation for a different setting."

"Such a tease, professor."

The barista called out for the next order. "An americano for me, and whatever she's having," he said to the woman behind the counter, already reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

"You know I can pay for myself."

He glanced at you. "I know, but I don't want you to."

After picking up your coffees, Gojo guided you through the campus towards its back garden. "Thought we could use a bit of privacy," he said. "Less chance of running into nosy students or colleagues."

As you followed him, the firm pavement turned into a lush, vibrant green carpet of grass and flowers. The garden was in full bloom, with knee-high blossoms exuding a sweet scent that wafted through the air.

Suddenly, he strayed off the path and into the grass. Without a word, he lay down, almost disappearing among the colorful blossoms. He lay on his back, arms folded behind his head, gazing up at the cerulean sky.

"You're really just going to lie down there?"

He looked up at you with a relaxed smile. "Why not? It's a beautiful day. Come, join me."

Hesitantly, you sat down beside him, tucking your legs to the side. The grass was soft and cool beneath you, and the floral scent enveloped you. Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the nearby trees, casting playful, dappled shadows across the two of you.

Your gaze flicked around the area, half-expecting someone to appear. "Aren't you worried about someone seeing us?"

He chuckled, his eyes still fixed on the sky. "There's no one around. And even if there was, we're just two people enjoying a beautiful day. Nothing wrong with that."

Yeah, nothing wrong with a young, stupidly attractive professor and one of his students lying on the grass together.

You watched him for a moment.

Gojo wore his usual white button-down shirt, which accentuated his well-built physique, the top few buttons casually undone. Dark designer sunglasses adorned the bridge of his nose. His sleek white hair was tousled by the gentle breeze that caressed the garden.

As he reclined amid the flourishing garden, the shifting patterns of light and shadow played a mesmerizing dance upon his skin. He seemed to savour every ray of sunlight that touched his skin. The corners of his lips curled upward.

"We have a potential case," he began, shifting to a more serious tone. "There's a patient who might be a perfect candidate for the neurotransplant procedure."

You glanced at his bandaged hand. "Are you sure you're ready for that? With your hand still healing?"

He lifted his hand, testing its movement as he flexed his fingers. "It's healing better than expected. It has to be okay," he said. "Besides, Principal Yaga is really breathing down both mine and Geto's necks about it. He wants to see results."

"And you're okay with that?"

"There's no other way."

You pondered for a second.

"The patient's young, only sixteen," he revealed.

"Sixteen? That's so young," you murmured.

"I know, but he's a perfect fit for this surgery. He wants this chance, and we owe it to him to give our best."

Your brows furrowed.

"I know you're worried," he began. "But trust me, we'll take every necessary precaution. And this time, we have the advantage of everything we've learned so far. We're in this together, and I'll be right there by your side every step of the way."

You smiled faintly.

Gojo propped himself up on one elbow to face you. "What happened to your fearless spirit? When we first met, you suggested an approach in surgery that even I hadn't considered. It was bold, a bit crazy even."

"It was a different situation. That patient was dead either way. So it didn't really matter".

He lay back down, gazing up at the sky. "Wow, how pragmatic of you."

"Aren't you scared? That we mess this up?"

"No, not really. I trust you."

You huffed. Yeah, if only you could have his confidence.

"Why does it always seem like you're so carefree?" you asked him.

He let out a soft chuckle. "Me, carefree? Not exactly. It's more that I've stopped giving a fuck about the small stuff. Stick around in research long enough, and you'll learn to do the same."

"Stopped giving a fuck, huh?" you mused, raising an eyebrow. "That's one way to live a careless life, I suppose."

"It's not about being careless. It's about choosing what deserves your energy and what doesn't."

"And what deserves the energy of one of the most famous neurosurgeons?"

His smile deepened. "Challenging surgeries, medical mysteries and, of course," he paused, " intriguing students who keep me on my toes."

Before you could react, Gojo grasped your shoulders in a swift, unexpected move and pushed you back down onto the grass. Suddenly, you were looking up at him, his face inches from yours, his eyes holding yours in a captivating gaze. Your heart raced.

"Are you insane? What if someone sees us like this?" Panic tinged your voice as you instinctively tried to push him away, but he remained steadfast.

Gojo's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Would it really be that bad?"

He was surely insane.

Yet, your breath caught in your throat as Gojo's eyes burned into yours. You could see the raw desire in his eyes, mirroring your own.

"You're always so tense, first-year," he teased. "Need someone to help you relax?"

"Gojo, we really shouldn't—," you tried to protest. But your body betrayed you, responding to his closeness. You felt your core heating up.

His lips grazed your earlobe, sending delightful shivers cascading down your spine. "Shouldn't what?" he whispered. "Have a little fun?"

Your heart raced as his lips traced a tantalizing path along your jawline, leaving a trail of heated anticipation in their wake. "Gojo," you breathed out, torn between desire and restraint.

Suddenly, Gojo's hand reached out, grasping your wrists that were still pushing against his chest. He pinned your hands above your head, pressing them into the lush grass.

He paused for a moment, his lips hovering just above yours. "Tell me to stop," he challenged softly.

You swallowed hard, acutely aware of his presence, his warm breath, and his other hand that found its way between your legs. "Gojo, seriously," you whispered. "We're in public."

Yet you couldn't stop yourself from letting your head fall back. Your back arched into him as his fingers traced a slow path along the inside of your leg. "Thrilling isn't it?" His lips moved ever so slightly against the curve of your neck. "Didn't hear the word 'stop' yet."

Yes.

Fuck.

Please stop.

Please be the reasonable one of you two.

Because you surely were not able to.

"Gojo, this is crazy." You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to still the rapid beating of your heart. "We can't... not here."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes still locked with yours. "Then tell me to stop."

You knew you should push him away, end this dangerous game before it went any further. But the desire to give in was overwhelming. His fingers continued their slow, deliberate path, now dangerously close to your core. "I'm waiting, first-year."

His touch ventured higher, feather-light yet electrifying, teasing over your most sensitive spot between your legs. A soft moan broke from your lips. Instantly, his hand clamped over your mouth.

"Shh, sweetheart," he cautioned, his breath hot against your lips. "What if someone hears us? We wouldn't want to get caught, now would we?"

With a sly smirk, Gojo pulled back, granting you a moment to catch your breath. He sat upright. "Seems I can't trust you to keep quiet."

Your heart raced as you watched him, unable to form a coherent response. Gojo had a way of leaving you breathless and wanting more, and you couldn't deny that you were drawn to the dangerous game he was playing.

Eventually, Gojo stood up, casually brushing off grass from his clothes. "Break's over," he said, glancing at his watch. "I've got a lecture in 15 minutes."

He extended a hand toward you, offering to help you up. You took his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Standing close, your eyes locked once more, though your gaze briefly dropped, noticing something.

"You can't go lecture like that."

Looking down, Gojo sighed. "Yeah, it always happens with you. Don't worry, I'll just remember your clumsy attempt to draw blood from Okkotsu's arm. That should take care of it."

Oh, how funny.

"By the way, we're starting the surgical practice again tomorrow, right after your last class," he added. "Wear something nice and easy to get rid of."

─── ·✧· ───

You pulled on your surgical gloves, positioning yourself in front of today's human brain test subject. The sun was beginning to set, casting a crimson glow through the windows and onto the sterile surfaces of the lab.

You went straight into action. You stabilized the tissue as Gojo proceeded to implant the neurotransplant into the cerebral cortex. You breathed slowly, trying to keep your hands as still as possible.

You and Gojo worked together in silence. Every muscle tensed. Gojo successfully placed the neuroimplant in the intended location in the brain. However, when it came time to test the connection between the implant and the biometric arm that the patient would eventually use, something went wrong.

The neural signals fluctuated, failing to align with the anticipated patterns. After double-checking the connections and recalibrating the equipment, you traced the issue back to the placement of the implant.

"Looks like the placement is slightly off," you said, examining the data on the screen. "The implant is a bit too far to the right. That's why we're not getting a proper signal."

Gojo sighed. "A fraction of a millimeter off, and it makes all the difference," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the brain before him. "Let's redo this part. We need to make sure we get this right."

You retrieved a fresh brain from the lab's refrigerator. You sure were spending these brains like you get them at the supermarket.

But Gojo wanted perfection. And so did you.

You made the first incision, exposing the underlying area of the brain where the neuroimplant would be placed. Gojo followed with another incision, providing access to the targeted cortical area as you stabilized the tissue. Gojo then carefully placed the neuroimplant in place.

You watched Gojo closely. It was then that you noticed a subtle tremble in his hand.

"Gojo, your hand..."

He glanced at his hand briefly. "It's nothing to worry about," he said. "Just a slight tremor. It'll pass."

He paused for a moment and took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. You watched him, noticing the small beads of sweat that formed on his forehead.

"Gojo, if your hand isn't ready, we should—"

"I know. Just give me a second," he cut you off.

Despite his words, Gojo's hand continued to tremble more noticeably as the procedure carried on. The strain on his face became more evident.

At a crucial point in the procedure, when precision was essential, Gojo's hand shook erratically. He tried to steady it, but the tremor proved too severe. After a moment's hesitation, he abruptly withdrew his hand. He muttered a curse under his breath.

He tore off his surgical gloves, tossing them into the trash with unnecessary force. The sound of his heavy breathing filled the otherwise quiet lab.

You watched him, the room enveloped in stillness.

Gojo leaned heavily against the lab counter, his head hanging low. After a minute, he ran his hands through his hair and met your gaze. "Let's switch roles. I'll take care of the parts I can do with one hand, and you'll handle the critical aspects."

What?

"You mean I should try the implant placement?"

"Yeah," Gojo confirmed. "You've got steady hands, and we just need to ensure it's placed correctly. My hand will heal by the time of the actual surgery."

"I'm not sure, Gojo."

He walked over to you. "We'll need to practice," he continued. "I want to make sure we have every step down perfectly."

"Okay, then let's try it."

So, you prepared again, this time with you in the lead and Gojo at your side, standing close. You glanced at his hand. "Are you sure you can manage with just one hand?"

He smirked. "One hand is all I need to get the job done."

You didn't give him the satisfaction on answering to that.

You began the procedure.

"You're doing well," he said as you carefully maneuvered the tools. His voice close and calm. Every so often, you caught Gojo flexing his injured hand, working through the discomfort. Yet, he remained focused on guiding you through the process. "A steeper angle gives you better access... yes, perfect."

The session progressed more smoothly than you had anticipated. As you completed the practice run, a sense of accomplishment washed over you. You had successfully completed the implant placement.

"We make a good team," Gojo remarked. "I knew you could do it."

You found yourself smiling. "Thanks to your guidance, professor."

"Let's try again just to make sure."

You both prepared for another round of practice. As you repeated the procedure, you became acutely aware of Gojo inching closer. His focus seemed to shift away from the procedure to something other.

"Gojo what are you doing?"

Suddenly, you felt him lean in closer from behind. His breath was warm on the back of your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You could feel him subtly inhaling, as if taking in your scent.

"Did you change your shampoo?"

His question caught you off guard, causing a momentary lapse in your focus. "Ehm, yeah."

"Hm. Change it back. I liked the other one better."

You cleared your throat, trying to ease the flutter in your stomach. "We should really focus on—"

Without warning, he reached out and took the surgical tools from your hands. "We've practiced enough for today."

You turned around to face him. "We could still use some more time to—"

Before you could finish your sentence, he leaned in, closing the space between you. "I think there are other things we should be focusing on right now, wouldn't you agree?" he said, his voice a husky whisper.

He set the surgical tools down on the table behind you. Gojo inched even closer, his lips hovering over yours. "Sometimes, first-year," he whispered, his breath mingling with yours, "—it's important to know when to take a break and enjoy the moment."

In a fluid motion, he lifted you effortlessly, setting you down on the edge of the lab table. His hands were planted firmly on either side of you. Your pulse quickened as you looked up into his crystal blue eyes, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

"Hard work should be rewarded," he went on. "Don't you think so?"

You couldn't find the words to respond, your breaths growing shallow. He reached up, his fingers grasping your hair at the nape of your neck. His tilted your head back, exposing the delicate skin of your neck to his gaze.

"Tell me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your neck, "where should I start?" His mouth met your skin, planting deliberate, slow kisses along your neck. Your breath hitched.

His hands slipped beneath your shirt, pulling you closer until your chest pressed against his. His fingers began to explore the skin underneath your shirt. The sensation of his touch was like fire, sparking a heat within you that you hadn't known before.

He trailed his lips down to your collarbone, each kiss a question. "Should I start here?"

Your arms found their way around his neck, pulling him even closer. The realization that you were crossing a line was there, in the back of your mind, but it was overshadowed by the overwhelming need to be close to him.

Breathless, hearts racing, you both surrendered to the moment. He pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. In an instant, his lips found your collarbone once more, trailing down to your chest. "Or here?" His warm, wet breath brushed against your skin. His fingers dug into your hips.

"Gojo," you breathed out, unable to say anything other than his name.

"What is it, sweetheart? Tell me, where do you need it?" He placed soft, lingering kisses down your chest until he reached your breasts. The sensation sent a wave of warmth through you as he kissed the skin right above the hem of your bra.

Then, in one fluid motion, Gojo knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours. He lifted one of your legs, placing it over his shoulder. With his hand, he pushed the other away, spreading your legs apart. Unable to support yourself on the table any longer, you leaned back.

He continued, placing kisses over the fabric of your jeans, from your knee up to your thighs. "How do you like it here?"

He persisted in his journey up to your sensitive spot, mere inches away from it, his face nestled between your legs. "Tell me, should I start here, sweetheart?"

Overwhelmed, you leaned back further on the table, resting on your elbows for support. Then, accidentally, you pushed the glass container holding the brain, causing it to tip over. The preservative liquid spilled across the table, drenching both of you. You sat up abruptly.

Gojo pulled back. "Did you just spill brain fluid on us?"

"I guess I did," you admitted, still trying to process what had just happened. Here you were, in the middle of a lab, drenched in preservation fluid from a human brain, right before... well, you'd rather not think about it.

Gojo stood up, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Well, that's one way to cool down." He offered you a hand to help you stand up properly. "We should call it quits for today."

You stood, glancing down at your drenched jeans, still feeling the remnants of his kisses and touches on your heated skin.

He leaned in. "You know, if you wanted to get me wet, there are far more enjoyable ways to do it." Then he backed away with a playful smirk.

Back home, you tossed your shampoo bottle into the trash.

─── ·✧· ───

The day of the surgery had finally arrived.

You methodically scrubbed your hands and arms, the sterile scent of the hospital soap filling the room. Through the window, you could see the young patient being prepared in the operating room. He smiled nervously as the nurse inserted the anesthesia needle into his arm.

Is he more nervous or are you? Perhaps you.

The observation gallery was filling up with hospital staff and the usual press, setting up cameras to document the high-stakes surgery. The weight of their gazes, even from a distance, was palpable, intensifying the pressure.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. Gojo hadn't arrived yet. Your heart rate quickened slightly. You reminded yourself that Gojo's hand had been functioning perfectly in the days leading up to the surgery. There was nothing to worry about, right?

Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself. As you continued your preparations, the door to the washing room opened, and Geto stepped in.

"Geto," you greeted him, trying to mask your surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to wish you luck," he replied with an easy smile. "But I guess you're so prepared you won't need any."

"Thank you."

"I'll be cheering on you from the observation gallery."

You nodded. After a moment of silence, you said, "Do you know where Gojo is? He should have been here by now."

Geto's brow furrowed. "Hm? I'm not sure, actually. He didn't mention anything to me about being late."

Your stomach turned. It was unlike Gojo to be late, especially on a day like this. "I need to find him," you said, removing your gloves.

"Should I come with you?"

"No, I'll be fine."

You hurried out of the washing room, your mind racing. Where could Gojo be? Was it because of his hand? Or something else? You quickened your pace, moving through the corridors of the hospital, checking every possible place where Gojo could be.

Pulling out your phone, you called Gojo's number. But he didn't answer. You tried calling again, each ring echoing your growing anxiety. Still, silence.

You reached his office. The door was shut and no one answered when you knocked. Taking a deep breath, you cautiously opened it and peered into the dimly lit room.

The blinds were drawn, casting the office in near darkness. Your eyes adjusted, and that's when you saw him—Gojo, slumped against the wall, his legs sprawled on the floor, head tilted back.

Your heart sank as you saw him.

No.

This can't be real.

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. You knelt in front of him. Gently, you cupped his pale face in your hands, urging him to look at you. His usually sharp eyes were unfocused as they struggled to fix on you.

No doubt.

"Satoru," you whispered, his first name escaping your lips. There was no need to address him by his last name anymore, was there?

Not anymore.

His slightly glassy eyes flickered, showing a glimmer of recognition, but he seemed distant, lost in a world of his own—clouded by whatever substance he had taken.

The realization hit you hard.

"Satoru," you called his name again, more urgently this time.

His lips parted, an attempt at speech, but only a slurred, indistinct sound emerged. It was painful to see him like this, to witness the downfall of a person you respected and cared so deeply for. Your skin run cold with fear.

"Fuck, Satoru what are you doing?" you asked, your fingers tenderly stroking his cheek. You needed answers, but more than that, you needed to understand why.

Why?

Why today?

Why Satoru?

You shook him slightly, trying to get any response from him. "Satoru, answer me!"

His focus sharpened slightly, and he murmured, "God, you look so beautiful today."

You shook your head. "What are you saying?"

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm you. Right now, you needed to be strong—for him, for the patient waiting in the OR, and for the team depending on you both.

"We need to call this surgery off," you said as you tried to stand up but his grip on your wrist halted you.

"No, wait!" he said. "We can't call it off."

"What?"

"There's too much at stake. If we don't go through with it today, the project will be dead. The funding, everything we've worked for, will be lost."

"Are you insane? You're fucking high, you can't operate!"

He tilted his head up to meet your gaze. "You can."

Gojo's words hit you like a ton of bricks. "You are insane." You stared at him. "I can't do that."

"You're prepared for this," he countered, gaining a semblance of clarity in his speech. "You know the procedure inside and out. You've practically done it already."

"Don't ask this of me, Satoru," you pleaded, feeling the weight of the responsibility he was trying to place on your shoulders.

Shakily, he stood up, his hands gripping your shoulders. "You can do it," he insisted. "I know you can and I'll be there to assist you."

"Geto is also here, he should do it. "

"Suguru hasn't trained for this specific approach. He won't be able to do it without harming the patient. But you can."

"Then we call it off!" you raised your voice, feeling trapped.

"No, you should do it. You need to do this."

You stared at him, lost for words. The intensity in Gojo's eyes was undeniable, his grip on your shoulders firm yet pleading. "You are the only one who can do this now. And I'll be there to guide you. You have the skills, the knowledge. You've done it before, you can do it again."

"This is insane. You can't assist in your condition," you whispered, holding back tears.

"Give me a few minutes and I'll be ready. I swear."

You studied his face, the redness in his eyes betraying his current state. "Fuck, Satoru. Why are you making me do this?"

"You can do it, I know you can."

Silence.

You nodded.

Stepping into the OR your heart raced. Sweat broke out on your forehead. You moved as if in a trance, the reality of the situation numbing your senses. You and Gojo scrubbed up, then walked into the OR where the patient lay prepped and waiting.

You took your position at the operating table where Satoru was supposed to stand. You could feel the weight of numerous eyes on you; could hear them whispering, but no one dared to say anything. Not with Satoru Gojo beside you. No one dared to question him.

Your eyes darted to the gallery. You saw Geto rise from his seat, his brows furrowed as he stepped closer to the glass in front of him.

"Ignore him," Gojo whispered beside you. "Focus on what's in front of you."

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you turned your attention back to the patient, the ridiculous young patient lying open skull in front of you.

Then you held out your hand to Satoru. "Scalpel, please."

─── ·✧· ───

The clapping around you was a distant sound, barely reaching your ears as you stepped back from the operating table. The surgery was a success. Stress and adrenaline abruptly left your body, leaving you feeling suddenly empty and nauseous.

You run over to the corner of the OR, barely making it to the trash bin before succumbing to the overwhelming urge to vomit. Your body shook with each heave.

The whole room suddenly fell silent.

After vomiting into the trash bin, your body shaking from the sudden release of tension, you pushed your way out of the OR. You heard Satoru call your name, but chose to ignore it. You needed space; you needed to get away from him.

You rushed through the sterile corridors of the hospital. Finally reaching a bathroom, you locked yourself in, pressing your back against the door as you fought to steady your breathing.

The clinical smell of the bathroom was sickening.

The sterile exterior felt sickening.

Everything felt sickening in that moment.

You splashed cold water on your face, trying to wash away the remnants of nausea and regain your composure.

Fuck, you whispered.

Fuck.

Fuck!

Your hands clenched tightly around the edge of the sink, knuckles white with tension. Tears brimmed in your eyes, threatening to spill over, but you willed them back.

Why did it feel like your heart was being torn to shreds?

Your breaths came in rapid succession, shallow and uneven, as panic threatened to take over. But you couldn't let it. Not now. Falling apart was not an option. You forced yourself to take slow, deliberate breaths.

Inhale. Exhale.

With one final, deep breath, you pushed open the bathroom door. Pulling out your phone, you called Geto without hesitation. "Where are you?" you demanded, cutting through any pleasantries.

"In my office."

You hung up and marched straight to his office, pushing the door open without bothering to knock.

"When did you want to tell me he's a fucking addict?" You yelled at him.

Geto stood up, his hands planted firmly on his desk. "When did you want to tell me you're fucking him?" he shot back, his voice equally furious.

You didn't even spend the breath to correct him.

You approached him. "I didn't know my love life concerns you that much."

"Don't you get it? He's your professor, he's lecturing you, you're working on this project together that could shape your whole career. What was that even about just now? Why did you do the surgery?"

"Because Gojo was high, damn it! He was fucking high!" Your frustration boiled over, your hands tugging at your hair as you paced the room.

"You should have called off the surgery! What were you thinking?"

"Huh?" You turned to him. "What I was thinking? What were you thinking? Why didn't you tell me? You knew, didn't you?"

He sank back into his chair, tilting his head back as he let out a heavy sigh. "I thought he had it under control."

Was he for real?

"Under control?" you hissed. "Since when do addicts have their addiction under control?"

The room fell silent.

"You should have told me, Geto," you said as you sat down on the chair in from of his desk.

Geto leaned forward, rummaging through his coat pocket. He retrieved a cigarette and lighter. As he lit it, the flame briefly illuminated his face in a warm, orange glow. The cigarette's tip crackled softly, the smoke curling upwards in lazy spirals.

"Smoking in the office now?"

As he took a slow drag, the cigarette's cherry end burned brighter, and he inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs. A sense of calm seemed to wash over him, his tense shoulders relaxing slightly as he exhaled a thin plume of smoke into the room.

"Does it matter anymore?" he said as he took another drag from his cigarette. He leaned back, the creak of the leather chair punctuating the silence. His dark eyes were fixed on you. Wisps of smoke curled around him.

"When did it start? With Gojo?" you asked him.

His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he took another slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly as he continued to study you. Then his eyes drifted away for a moment.

"It started back in our university days," he finally said. "Satoru was always the charismatic one, the life of every gathering. Back then, it was just for fun, a way to let off steam, to unwind after exam periods."

The ember of his cigarette glowed brighter with each drag, casting a faint light on his face. "But over time it got worse. The occasional use became more frequent, and he lost control. He started needing the drugs just to get through the day. On good days, he could mask it, but on the bad ones..."

He trailed off.

"He tried to quit, to get clean, but it's... he developed such a high tolerance for it that he could easily take drugs and still function. Eventually, he became an expert at hiding his addiction."

Your stomach tightened. The truth felt like a heavy stone on your chest, and it refused to go away. Then your phone rang with a message. Startled, you reached for it. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw the name.

[5:43 PM] Gojo: Where are you?

"Message from your lover?" Geto asked dryly, rising from his seat to get something out of a cupboard.

You tucked your phone back into your pocket. "He wants to know where I am."

"Of course he wants to know." Geto remarked, returning to his desk with a bottle and two glasses. He poured a rich, dark liquid into the glasses, sliding one towards you.

"I don't really drink," you said, observing him take a sip of his whiskey.

"What a shame."

"What happens to the project now?"

Geto laughed. "The project? It was a full success, wasn't it? The neurotranplant worked. The surgery worked. The media will love the story of a young, brilliant surgeon performing such a groundbreaking procedure. They'll be even more fascinated when they find out you're still a student."

"You find this amusing?"

"Not really. It's my project, after all," he replied, taking another sip. He set his glass down, his gaze meeting yours. "They'll want you to lead more surgeries like this one, to further validate the technique."

"I don't think I can do that again. Just the thought of it makes me sick."

Your phone vibrated again.

[5:48 PM] Gojo: Where the hell are you?

[5:48 PM] Gojo: Talk to me.

You stared at the screen.

"You want to go to him?"

"No." Without hesitation, you reached for the glass of liquor, tilted your head back, and swallowed the drink in one fluid motion. The alcohol burned in your throat. "I want to leave."

"Should I drive you home?"

"No, I'm fine," you said, setting the empty glass back on the desk with a slight clink.

─── ·✧· ───

After leaving Geto's office, you made your way to the elevator, lost in thought. The doors slid open, and you were jolted back to reality by the sight of Satoru leaning against the wall inside the elevator. His eyes looked up at you.

No way.

Before you could react or step aside, the people behind you, caught up in their own hurry, pushed forward, shoving you into the elevator. The confined space forced you to stand close to Satoru, your back to him.

The elevator began its descent. The people around you chattered, but you felt that the silence between you and Satoru was louder. You could feel his presence only centimeters away. The close quarters left no room for avoidance, and you were acutely aware of every breath Satoru took.

The elevator ride felt like an eternity, each second stretching out as you struggled to maintain your composure.

"You smell like smoke," Satoru observed quietly.

"Are you still high?" you retorted under your breath, not turning to face him.

"I'm good."

"You're good?" you echoed. "How can you even say that after what happened today?"

"You're angry."

"Angry is an understatement," you replied, turning slightly.

He leaned closer, wrinkling his nose. "Did you drink?" he asked, a bit too loudly. "Are you drunk?"

"It's none of your business, Satoru."

As the elevator stopped and its doors slid open, you saw your chance to escape and quickly maneuvered through the crowd. You wanted to put as much distance between you and him as possible.

The lobby of the hospital was a blur as you rushed through it, Satoru's voice calling after you, but you ignored him. You wanted nothing more than to get away from him.

You pushed through the exit doors and stepped outside, only to be greeted by a heavy downpour. The rain drenched you almost instantly, but you hardly noticed.

His footsteps splashed behind you. "Talk to me!" he called out, his voice barely audible over the sound of the pouring rain.

You quickened your pace, the rain streaming down your face. Your heart ached as you tried to distance yourself from the situation, from Satoru, from everything.

"Enough of this crap already! Talk to me!"

"Leave me alone, Satoru!"

"Then just tell me!" he implored, his tone desperate. "Tell me, will it ever stop?"

You halted, but didn't turn to face him. The rain was relentless, soaking through your clothes, matting your hair against your face. "What do you mean?" you called over the downpour.

"Wanting you—every damn second of every fucking day. I don't think I can take it anymore."

His words cut through the sound of the rain, raw and unguarded. For a moment, you were speechless, his confession hanging heavily in the air between you. You slowly turned to face him, seeing in his eyes a tumult of emotions that mirrored your own.

"Satoru—," your voice barely rose above the rain.

"I can't ignore it," he said, taking a step towards you, closing the gap. "I've tried, believe me, I've tried. But it's always there—you are always there."

Your heart pounded against your chest as he stopped mere inches away from you. Raindrops trickled down his face, cascaded down his striking white hair, which clung to his forehead and temples.

"So tell me," he urged. "Will it ever stop? Because I don't know if I can take it much longer."

You were both soaked to the skin, standing in the middle of the downpour, the world around you blurring into insignificance.

"It's killing me, pretending not to want you is killing me," he said quietly.

He stepped closer. His hands reached out, gently cupping your face.

Then, he kissed you.

Without warning, without permission.

Without even deciding to do it, simply because he couldn't not do it.

His lips pressed firmly against yours, molding to their contours as if they had been crafted to fit together. The world around you faded away, leaving only the sensation of his warm breath mingling with yours, the electrifying touch of his fingers on your cheek, and the intoxicating taste of his mouth.

Your hands found their way to his rain-soaked shirt, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as if you were afraid he might disappear if you let go. His mouth moved hungrily against yours, and you responded in kind, as if trying to convey all the unspoken words and feelings that had lingered between you for far too long.

As the rain poured down, you tasted rainwater mixed with his unique flavor, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. You finally gave in to the undeniable pull that had drawn you together, allowing it to consume you completely.

Because that's how it felt. Satoru Gojo consumed you.

His tongue grazed your lower lip, seeking permission to explore further, and you willingly granted access. His tongue explored every inch of your mouth, caressing and teasing, his urgency and intensity increasing with each passing second.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. Your bodies pressed closer together. His hands roamed your body with a newfound boldness, tracing the curve of your waist, the small of your back, and the nape of your neck. Each touch sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but respond in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair.

But as you kissed, the reality of what had just happened crashed over you like the waves of the rainstorm around you. In that fleeting moment, you hesitated, and Satoru pulled back.

Separated now, both of you stood there, breathless and drenched by the rain. He lowered his forehead to rest against yours. His arms remained loosely around you.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No, it's... don't speak."

You both stood there under the relentless downpour, the rain streaming down your face, mirroring the tears that had started to well up in your eyes. Satoru reached up to tenderly brush away the tears that slipped down your cheeks.

The silence stretched between you, filled with words you were too afraid to say.

Then you pushed away and turned.

You walked away.

He didn't follow you.

─── ·✧· ───

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

x a/n: let the angsty and hurtful part of the story begin haha. as always thank you for reading ♡

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved

#gojo saturo #saturo gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x female reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #professor satoru gojo #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo #jjk x you #jjk

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babypinkhearts · 3 months

Text

always an angel, never a god. - g. satoru

pairing: gojo satoru + fem!reader

summary: is he truly aware of how different he is?

warnings: angst! reader and gojo are students at jujustu high, everyone is safe!!! comfort, fluff, mentions of violence. i broke my heart a little. can be seen as foreshadowing but you didn’t hear that from me.

a/n: inspired by “not strong enough” by boy genius. i fear this is my new favorite.

demeaning is what you would call this.

watching, in something you can only describe as jealousy, as gojo satoru walks back towards you, a shit-eating grin present on his face.

it’s like this often.

infantilization would be an exaggeration. satoru doesn’t baby you per-say, but there is clearly a conscious effort made to make sure you are always behind him. he leads. he attacks. he succeeds.

and then you’re back at square one. walking together, back to jujustu high as satoru rambles about arbitrary topics. missions with him end quickly. he asks, - or, more accurately - orders, you to stay back as he takes less than a minute in exorcising whatever curses are ahead. you never question him as to why you’re always paired together. you know he has something to do with it.

“you hungry?” he smiles, an arm comfortably rested across your shoulders. he subconsciously guides you as you walk along the pavement.

you spare a quick glance at him. he looks content, that expression of satisfaction feeling somewhat bothersome to you at the moment.

“not really…” you mumble, eyes trailing off as you looked at the buildings beside the two of you.

you wonder as to why you’re beside him. not in the literal sense - you already know he’s here by pure will. but, what was the point of missions, of jujustu, when all you did was stay back and observe? you gave up any chance of a normal life for this.

you feel satoru looking at you.

you contemplate for a little, choosing to avoid his eyes. defeatedley, you briefly close yours.

your voice is quiet as you speak. you wonder if he even hears you, your voice muffled under the busy street noise.

"this has to stop, gojo."

the rest of the walk is silent.

•••

your abilities could never amount to satoru.

he had everyone beat - effortlessly, really. there was no process of acceptance for it. you couldn’t mourn the loss of something you could never have.

the god himself, picked from the heavens and placed into your world. clouding your senses, leaving only the thought of him in your head. he was impossible to ignore. the brightest of people that made you feel so incredibly dull.

he was beautiful. ethereal and worshipped. you knew you loved him, pathetically so.

it was obvious that some amount of affection was mutual. he was constantly around you, where he had clearly stated - out loud - that it was where he preferred to be. you basked in his presence.

“what movie?”

your eyes scan the two discs in satoru’s hands. a horror and a thriller. judging by the intense covers of both, you had a suspicion that they weren’t too different.

“options seem… limited.” you mumble, a soft smile on your face as you watch him in amusement. you quickly learned that satoru never really flocked towards a certain genre. he could easily watch an action movie and jump straight into a depressive drama.

“option one it is!” he grins, turning back to the TV, pressing play almost immediately after the disc is inserted. you wonder how he was always so hyper. he could be thrown a boulder the size of the earth and not seem affected. it worried you at times.

you move a little to the side of your bed, making room for him. this was a bit of a routine. a class, training, or mission would be over and the two of you would naturally be in your room afterwards, talking or watching whatever movies saturo would randomly bring.

you loved it. whatever it was. you couldn’t tell.

“have you seen this one?” you asked, heart briefly stopping as you register the feeling of his head resting comfortably in your lap. he’s so casual about it. a hand is gently placed on your thigh.

“no, i just got it last week.” he replies, glancing up at you. his glasses are off. the blue is almost frightening, too compelling to look back at. you refrain.

you hum in response, learning back against the wall as your eyes follow the bright screen ahead. you try your best to ignore the boy in your lap. it works for a bit.

there’s three pokes on your thigh about half-way through the movie.

looking down, you raise a brow at satoru.

he smiles, pleased at your attention.

“who’s more likely to die in a horror movie - me or you?”

you scoff, head tilting back up to pay attention to the movie again. you’re painfully reminded that satoru can be a little clueless at times. he’s an idiot.

“hey,” he whines, poking your side this time, eliciting a slap on the wrist from you. “i’m serious!”

you knew he meant for the question to be fun - he probably asked it because he was tired of the silence. but he was oblivious, you noticed. maybe dense. it had been a long day, you doubt he meant any harm. but, you also couldn’t help but feel he is slightly taunting you. tormenting because he knows how easy of an answer that is. a hand is raised, and you carefully brush his hair out if his face.

“you would outlive all of us, satoru.”

silence comes again.

you feel the hand on your thigh retreat, and suddenly satoru sits up.

you don’t mean for your words to come out as harshly as they do. you’re blunt at times, and it makes you feel guilty. couldn’t you humor him a little - reply back with a smile that is equally as playful? but you can’t compare to him. you don’t have the luxury to be so high-spirited all of the time.

you’re forced to look at him now, his eyes staring you down. the movie is on low volume, dialogue from the characters coming out as low hums. you’ve never seen satoru like this. he’s without a smile, and his lips are downcast in a small frown.

“i don’t want that.”

his voice sounds almost defeated, as if it’s an admission to a thought he hides from. you realize that the conversation has moved past a silly theoretical question and on to something real.

“i hate the thought of that.” satoru elaborates, closing his eyes briefly.

he’s gifted, of course. he’s aware. gojo satoru takes his confidence everywhere because he can. he allows himself to brag, because what else can he do? he can’t hide his strength. everyone knows what he is capable of. he’s not “normal.” he can’t be. when the world calls, he’s there. he puts himself in an incredible amount of danger and is never afraid because he knows he will be okay.

you can’t flaunt your strength the same, and he’s painfully aware of it. he doesn’t mean to belittle you. in all honesty, he hopes it never comes across as that, but he knows it does. you’re not weak, but why fight when he could save you? why risk it? if anything, he would take a beating for you a hundred times over. he’d give his life.

but there’s something so isolating about his abilities. again, he’s different. unrelatable, retired from any chance at normality. more-so than you. for as long as he lives, he will feel the need to protect. the fight is never over. a “god” is what he gets called the most. it’s usually playful, a joke. but hidden in those words is the reality of constant expectations he is forced to meet. a god.

“i know i can be…” satoru trails off, shifting slightly as he crosses his legs. “suffocating.”

in all honesty, since your last mission, he hadn’t stopped thinking about your words. or the look on your face.

this has to stop.

you had looked crushed. it made his heart sink.

in this world of pure danger and inevitable loss, satoru tries to keep his worries at bay. protecting you is a natural response. a weakness is pointless if it is never reached.

and he hated to admit it. an achilles heel placed directly on gojo satoru, the strongest. it made him sick.

“no, you’re not.” you quietly reply, shaking your head. you’re lying through your teeth, but you find that you really dislike serious satoru. it scares you. perhaps there’s a reason he is rarely like this. it feels as though the walls are caving in, and he’s being pushed closer to you, overwhelming you with his entire being. gojo satoru being serious feels unnatural. it’s uncomfortable. but it’s something new. a side you’ve never seen before, and you secretly thank the world that he lets you witness it.

he sends you a pointed look, a bitter chuckle leaving his lips. “don’t do that.”

you slowly nod, smiling slightly. “sorry.”

the dynamic is like this. you obey him, constantly. you’re one of his worshippers. you don’t realize that satoru ultimately does the same thing with you.

he stares at you with fondness in his eyes.

he loves you. and he thinks he has for a long time now.

but what is a god if they let themselves feel so… mortal? he can act the part. he’s defeated everything he’s touched. he’s feared, and simultaneously adored.

so why can’t he let himself have you so easily?

“i guess i’m just-“

satoru takes in a sharp breath, and your stomach drops as you watch his head bow down, evading your eyes. he doesn’t speak for a while, and you assume he is silently asking to drop the topic.

until his shoulders slump, and you can see them start to tremble.

gojo satoru was not a god.

he was mortal, human. as much as the world seemed to think he wasn’t. he tried to convince himself of the same, but it evidently proved to be useless.

you don’t say a word to him, reaching out and letting him bury his face in your shoulder. you can feel him suppressing his emotions the best he can, hyper-aware of the way you fail to feel him breathe against you.

when you turn to kiss his cheek with a feather-like touch, all composure is lost. you feel a stifled sob escape him.

satoru is mortified at the thought of losing you - losing anybody. he realized it when he finally registered how deeply he cared for you.

would being “the strongest” suffice?

he wish he could see the future.

he knows he’s been wrong. but more importantly, utterly selfish. you never asked to be loved by him. or protected. satoru easily gives into his own desires, ignorant as to how it affects those around him.

if the world saw satoru as a god, then he saw you as the most breathtaking angel.

you were more than worthy of his attention. he put you on a pedestal, out-ranking all he’s done in his life. he could live a thousand lifetimes and still want you just as badly. he wonders if that’s normal - if what he feels for you should be as strong as it is. should he be physically affected? sometimes he senses his heart pounding, the sensation intense enough to make him sick.

but he reminds himself that it’s the best kind of feeling.

how many times has he sat next to you, leaning his entire body on yours as he not-so-discreetly searches for your warmth? your touch. he’ll gladly fill his senses with only thoughts of you.

satoru’s head tilts up from it’s place on your shoulder, and he kisses you messily.

gojo satoru is selfish. and he’ll accept it.

if this lifetime is the only one he is meant to spend with you, then fuck it. fuck it all. he will let himself be greedy.

his hands are in your hair, and he attempts to pour out every little bit of emotion he has in his scrambled brain. he can’t think clearly. all he knows is that you’re kissing him back, and he’s fighting the biggest smile.

it’s heavenly.

you part from him after a while, lips swollen and face flushed.

satoru isn’t much better, his breath staggered and pupils dilated.

he attempts to lean in again, but a gentle hand on his chest stops him. satoru blinks, watching you as you let out a small laugh. you feel relieved. as if the heaviest weight has been lifted off your shoulders, and you are free and liberated.

you’re somewhat in disbelief.

this ethereal being has confessed to you. an emotion that is so incredibly mutual. reciprocated to only the strongest amount. a love so infinite that it nearly drove you mad.

satoru smiles. it intensifies.

your laugh is contagious, and suddenly the two of you are unable to catch your breath, faces pink from hope, joy, and love.

satoru will take this.

he can be vulnerable. he must let you be independent. what is a commitment to confirmed infatuation without trust?

he can let himself be human. what a miserable life it’d be without you.

after all, a “god” will be okay with his angel.

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missmugiwara · 4 months

Text

You Said To Go All Out

Summary: afab!reader x Gojo // What happens when Satoru pretends to be your boyfriend for Christmas Eve and meets your family? Need any more be said? Warning: 18+, suggestive, fluff, crack fic?, Gojo being insufferable, Gojo being a daddy, Gojo fighting toxic masculinity, slight mention of sex and pregnancy, second-hand embarrassment Note: I'm such a ho ho ho for Satoru.

✦ Word count is 4.5k. ✦

"So tell me what's off the table."

"Nothing. I want you to go all out."

You reached forward to push the doorbell. The muted chime let you know it indeed worked. Seemed like your father fixed it since the last time you visited. You cleared your throat and shuffled under your coat to appear more presentable. There was a brief period of silence as you and Satoru Gojo stood still, your hot breaths omitting little clouds into the cold winter air. A second more and Gojo let out a snicker.

"Are you serious?"

"I am. Go crazy! Give 'em that Gojo charm."

The tall man next to you tipped his head back and let out a laugh. He seemed very amused. Did you realize the effect of your words though? Maybe you were just too hyper focused to think rationally, but you did just basically give Satoru Gojo permission to be unhinged.

Something he was quite good at.

So what was the permission for? Simply put, you were sick of visiting your parents for the holidays because every damn time they asked if you had a special someone in your life yet. Of course, as the eldest of the siblings, the extra added pressure was on. Pressure that was unwarranted and unneeded. You were not sure if you could go through it again without screaming. So when Gojo saw you deep in thought instead of paying attention to your students at Jujutsu High, he asked what the matter was. As soon as your eyes laid upon him, you broke out into a smile. Eagerly, you asked if he could pretend to be your boyfriend for dinner on Christmas Eve.

Honestly, you weren't sure what he would say. Thoughts of being humiliated had not even crossed your mind - that is until he just stared at you in thought with a wicked smirk pulling the corners of his mouth upward. That look made you second guess everything.

"Why should I help you out anyway?"

"Satoru, please! I'll do anything you want!"

Your breath caught in your lungs as soon as those words left your mouth. Why did you say that? Ugh, so desperate. His teasing tone made your face flush with heat. He hummed as he leaned in, peering at you somehow through that blindfold of his.

"Aaaanything I want?"

With a nervous smile, you stared at his gorgeous pink lips and then his eyes (or at least you thought you were making eye contact). No time to rethink this. Especially with Satoru tyring to outdo your confidence right then and there. You would not let him break you. Besides, couldn't he just agree? He was an old friend anyway! This was not even the craziest thing you two had done before.

"Yes!"

"Okay. I'll pick you up at three."

He pulled back with a smile, shoving his hands in his pockets and whistling a tune. Before he closed the classroom door, he chuckled and gave you one more glance.

"Oh, this will be so good."

Fast forward to Christmas Eve. There you two were, dressed to impress and standing at your parents' door. It had been a moment, and still no one answered, so you pushed the doorbell again.

Gojo continued to press you.

"So hand holding?"

"Yup."

"Kisses?"

"Only on the cheek!"

"Can I propose?"

"Yeah, sure. I don't care - wait. You have a ring on you?"

When you whipped your head to face him, he just grinned and started cackling.

"I might." he purred, then explained the one he had was a family heirloom passed down in the Gojo clan. Naturally, you grabbed his arm and shook your head - telling him he could not just use such an important and sentimental item for this little, white lie. However, maybe your parents would actually believe a marriage proposal. You had known Gojo since you were kids, but you weren't sure if your parents would remember him that well. Would it look crazy?

"How about no proposal? That might be too much. Otherwise, just throw everything you've got into this, okay? You can talk about getting married, job stuff, buying a house, whatever."

"Can I talk about sex?"

"Absolutely not!"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you pouted at him. He gave an innocent smile in turn.

"Alright, I'll behave… for now."

He turned toward you, letting his dark sunglasses slip from his nose as he gave a little eyebrow waggle. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from smiling because you needed to be firm with him. Not laugh and indulge him. It was no good as you pulled your scarf up to cover your smirk - something he did notice.

"You dog."

"That the best you got? I've been called worse."

A small squeak escaped your throat when Gojo's hand lightly tapped your ass.

"Satoru!"

"You said to go all out."

He smirked again. You opened your mouth, about to scold him, when all of a sudden the door flung open. Your mother squealed in delight and clasped her hands together upon seeing her beloved eldest child with their boyfriend. She profusely apologized for the wait, babbling on and on about how excited she was to see everyone, how she never saw you ever because you were always off doing jujutsu work, and oh - to see Gojo-san again after so many long years was a nice treat.

"Oh, my! Look at how tall you are! You are just a gorgeous creature!"

"Mooooom! Don't!" you stomped your foot on the ground, but you were clearly ignored as your mother reached out to grab Gojo by the arm. He snickered at how embarrassed you were and turned back to your mother.

"Oh, stop, please! I can't take this!" he smirked with a facetious tone which only made your mother howl in laughter.

"And look at this! Such a gentleman! He even brought my baby flowers!"

"Oh no, the bouquet is for you, ma'am." he handed over the stunning arrangement of red and white roses, adorned with a few pinecones and some candy canes mixed inbetween them all, tied together with a golden ribbon.

"Thank you for inviting me into your home. And, oh - I didn't know good looks ran in the family."

In the middle of hanging your coat and then Gojo's, your eyes widened at that comment. Gojo was definitely overdoing it and then some! After dear old Mom grabbed the flowers, she just started laughing and muttering oh my, oh my over and over. Well, at least Gojo had stolen her heart. This could all actually be believable. She turned her back for one second to let you two finish settling in, and you slapped Gojo on the arm as he was about to walk off. Stop it, you mouthed. He froze. Then, after eyeing you up, he gave you a push in turn as you nearly toppled over since you were removing your shoes and were a bit off balance. A cheap shot. Surely, he forgot how much stronger he was because you landed into the wall silently, nearly sliding down it (you didn't want your mother to see, so you tried so hard to be mute). Gojo twitched at you form clutching at the wall and swiftly hooked his arm beneath yours to steady you as he uttered a bunch of apologies.

Your eyes met, and you growled at him. The only thing you got in turn was another smirk and a stifled laugh. So you slapped him again, this time on the chest. He squinted his eyes. And he lightly slapped your arm in turn. Then you did it again. Then he did it again. Then arms started flailing everywhere. Then it turned into some stupid little slap fight straight out of a sitcom. When your mother called, you both immediately froze. She ushered you two into the dining room and in synch, you and Gojo merrily chased after her amidst the fluster.

When finally in the dining room, you gave hugs to your two sisters - one home from college and the other home from the Kyoto Jujutsu school (a teacher like yourself) - and greeted your dad sitting grumpily at the head of the table. You introduced Satoru as your boyfriend, and of course your sisters were immediately won over at how cute and tall he was. After that settled down, you placed presents under the Christmas tree and sat next to your beloved Satoru at the opposite head of the table. Among all the small chat, your mother came bustling in with an apron tied around her waist.

She frowned at Satoru, "Oh, honey, we're indoors. Take off your glasses!"

"No!" you slammed your hands on the table, and everyone turned to you with perplexed expressions. Realizing you were making an idiot of yourself, you stuttered. Your family was not super versed in jujustu, save for you and one sister, but you didn't want to explain how Satoru… um, functioned.

"Uh… um, he has… sensitive eyes!"

Satoru chuckled, extending out a hand to lay atop yours. He hummed in amusement as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

"I have excellent eyes." he drawled out, giving a small wink as you pouted.

"Don't be so modest, sweetheart." he purred, gripping the edge of his glasses between his thumb and index finger, "Besides, I don't want to be rude."

With a charming smile, Satoru removed his glasses. They brushed ever so lightly against his bangs, the white hair perfectly rolling off them. He opened his blue eyes, batting his snowy-white lashes before his gaze turned lidded. Okay, damn - but why did he have to make it so attractive? Your sisters sat at the edge of their seats, gasping as their faces broke out into wide smiles and for some reason, they grabbed onto each other and screamed. You slapped a hand over your forehead, groaning into the sky.

"Oh, my!" your mother exclaimed, placing a hand against her flushed cheek, "Gorgeous! Just gorgeous!"

Oh, god, why?

What an attention whore. Satoru knew he was good-looking, and he could absolutely back it up. If you thought about it, well… yeah, Satoru was fine as hell! Wait, that was beside the point! He was completely milking everyone there. Through all the cries, you all turned your heads at the sound of your father scoffing loudly and slamming a hand on the dinner table.

"Ain't no way my kid's marrying some sissy pretty boy!"

"Dad!"

You shrieked, face on fire from absolute embarrassment. Your sisters followed suit. He was the one bringing up marriage first? In a panic, you turned toward Satoru - babbling out apology after apology as you gripped his arm protectively. Oh, gosh you were not prepared for this rudeness, and you had not anticipated that your family might mouth off to Satoru. Dear old Dad was kind of rough around the edges, but no one could have predicted this. Satoru just blinked and calmly cocked his head to the side, seeming unphased.

As ironic as it sounded, thank goodness Satoru Gojo had an ego.

"Sir, I can assure you - "

"Alright, pretty boy. Get over here."

You all blinked as your dad firmly slapped his napkin on the table and rose from his seat. He walked over to the living room and pushed the coffee table out of the way.

"Let's have a little wrestle! Come on, let's see what you got!"

No.

No no no no no.

Except for Satoru who was amused, you all looked upon your father in dismay. Your mother ran into the room when she heard this crazy idea, and your sisters jumped up from their seats to urge everybody to sit down. This was the epitome of the embarrassing dad trope, but to actually ask Satoru Gojo to a spar on Christmas Eve? No, this had to be stopped!

"Bet he's never been in a real scuffle! Look at the car he rolled up in. I bet he's had everything handed to him his entire life!"

It surely went without saying that Satoru had definitely been in some fights and had definitely been through some things, but now was not the time to get into those details. It appeared the situation was only getting worse.

"This is ridiculous! We want Gojo-san to come back next year! Not scare him away!"

"Oh no, Dad, please stop this!"

"Not now, honey! Daddy's about to get to work!"

He took a fighting stance. It was insanely ridiculous. This could not get any worse, but you were wrong. So so so very wrong. Satoru chuckled as he fluidly rose from his chair, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Satoru, I - I'm so sorry! Please don't do this!"

A reassuring pat on your head silenced you.

"Now, now. It's fine. Daddy's about to get to work… and your old man is joining too."

Satoru winked. For a split second, you froze under his heated touch when his hand slid down your cheek and tucked underneath your chin, giving your head a gentle shake before he pulled away. A few seconds passed to register what Satoru had just said. Your face erupted into what felt like fire at the notion that Satoru just called himself daddy. At least he whispered it so only you could hear.

"Don't hold back on me just because I'm no spring chicken, pretty boy!"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it." Satoru chided, giving a crack of his knuckles.

He paused.

"But I do need my good luck kiss from my sweetheart first."

Instantly, your eyes widened in shock, and your face went aflush with heat. "No, I don't think that's necessary… sweetheart!"

With crossed arms, you emphasized the cute petname as a warning. Poor you. That would never actually be enough to stop Satoru.

"You don't have to be shy, my love!" he stepped over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You were beyond frazzled. Now he was saying my love? Oh, he was really too much. His arms only tightened when you squirmed, and he pulled you closer. His lips puckered, and your eyes darted from them to his closed eyes to your family members staring at you weirdly for reluctantly not kissing him back. This display went on for a bit longer until you uttered under your breath.

"I said on the cheek!"

"Come on, they're watching. It's just a little peck!"

His arms gave a light squeeze.

"I could end this here and now and go home."

Right. Satoru really had no obligation to keep doing this favor, but did it have to be on his terms? Since the moment you stepped foot at the door, it was obvious he was going to torment you and behave in the most outlandish of ways. When you sharply took in a breath, you knew you had lost. He smirked. Nervously, your arms trembled as you struggled to lift your hands to his face. Quickly, you grabbed his cheeks and just pressed your mouth to his for not even a milisecond and pulled away. Satoru's arms let go of you, his eyelids drooping in a lusty manner. He smirked at the cute pout you gave him, eyebrows pulled together and everything. It was so embarrassing.

"Aw, thank you, my little good luck charm!"

Never had you wanted to run away from a family gathering so badly before. Your mom shook her head and giggled like a schoolgirl. Your sisters seethed with jealousy. Dad just squinted his eyes and grumbled in disgust.

"Oh, no you don't, pretty boy! Not in my house! Not without mistletoe!"

"Bring it on, old man."

The victor was long decided before the fight even started. You and your family watched in utter horror at Satoru and your father. You all jolted, clutching each other for support, covering your eyes, gasping, cringing, making faces as a few thwacks filled the air followed by your father's grunts and what sounded like bones cracking. Maybe Dad's spine perhaps? And before you knew it, Satoru had thrown him over his shoulder, and now Dad was on the floor.

And… Satoru was sitting on top of him.

Dad never stood a chance.

Satoru grinned, "I should have mentioned before that I'm an expert at martial arts!"

No no no no no, this could not be happening. You clapped your hands over your mouth. Dinner was over. Christmas Eve was over. Time to go home. You were prepared to high tail it out of there.

"O - Okay! I give!" your father screeched, "I'm sorry for calling you sissy! I misjudged you!"

Satoru got off him and extended out a hand to help your father up. At least he took those stupid insults with utmost grace. Mom ran forward with an ice pack in preparation as Dad cracked his back to loosen up once more. Instead of being livid… he just gripped Satoru's hand firmly in a handshake.

"Martial arts, huh? Very impressive, son!"

Oh, it was son now?

It was unbelievable that any of this was happening! Blinking off your initial shock, you ran right up to Satoru and curled your arms around his. With the fakest of smiles, you nuzzled your head into your boyfriend's arm.

"Oh, what a good fight! You're so strong, sweetheart! Now come sit down… and don't do anything!"

"Dinner's ready!"

Your father groaned as he sat in his chair, "G - great…"

Dinner went pretty normal. Satoru toned it down a notch for the time being. He laughed and placed his hand on your thigh when talking. He talked about his fancy car that all of a sudden your dad loved. They talked about Satoru's natural talent for martial arts again. He passed the potatoes when asked. He refused a glass of wine. There was some light conversation between the delicious food, and Satoru cracked a couple jokes here and there. Of course your tipsy parents laughed at everything he said and pried into your romantic life a bit more. They asked everything you could imagine, including why they hadn't heard you were dating Satoru Gojo sooner - however, Satoru was quick to explain it was all meant to be a fun surprise. At least he helped out there. It seemed he was bonefied boyfriend material.

But then, things started to go awry again.

When it was time to get up and move to the other room for opening gifts, Satoru promptly grabbed your hand and cleared his throat. As you stopped in place, you looked at him in a puzzled manner. He smirked at you, before placing a hand over his heart and sighing dramatically.

"Everyone, I have an announcement to make!"

"I knew it! My baby is pregnant!"

"NO, MOM!"

Through it all, you whipped your head to angrily meet Satoru's gaze. He held onto your hand tightly. With pleading eyes, you just silently begged him to get on with whatever this was. Because, to be honest, you were so sick of all these surprises from your fake boyfriend. Slowly, he got down on one knee. You felt your eyes widen as your jaw slowly dropped open.

You specifically said no proposal!

"I know we haven't been together for very long, but everything just feels… so right with you. Sweetheart, I love you."

SATORU, WHYYYYYY?

He pulled out a small navy velvet box. He opened it up to reveal the family ring inside he told you about only hours earlier. Now that you had gotten a better look, it was very pretty. It matched Satoru's eyes. In fact, it was a perfect copy of all the shine, all the sparkles, and all the clarity reflected in his own six eyes.

"Will you marry me?"

Although it was a fake proposal, you couldn't help the fact that your face heated up. For a moment, you clutched your free hand to your chest and your eyebrows pulled together. Your head tilted to the side as you gave him a dreamy look and such an adoring smile. When Satoru gave you a wink and whispered nice under his breath - you snapped out of it. Oh, yes! Remember this was all fake! With a slight gasp, you turned to see your family with wide smiles painted across their faces.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. For some reason, your throat was tightening as your breath quickened. Your eyebrows twitched in nervousness, and you blinked when tears started pooling at the corners of your eyes. Satoru blinked, nearly losing his happy expression upon seeing yours waver. Seeing your family like that… so happy, and all for nothing. This charade had gone on for too long now.

"No!"

Satoru's smile faded. And although all fake, you couldn't help but feel your heart rip in two at that hurt face Satoru gave. The way your heart dropped deep into the pit of your stomach upon meeting his azure eyes. You had put him through enough too. The feeling of being so sick welled deep inside your stomach.

Your family was just stunned to silence. Immediately, you turned to them.

"I'm sorry! This is all fake! Satoru and I aren't really dating! I just asked him to pretend being my boyfriend because I couldn't take another minute of you all pressuring me to find someone!"

With a deep breath and a sniffle, you looked down at the man on one knee.

"And I'm so sorry for asking you to do this! I've made fools out of us!"

With that, you ran off crying. Everyone stood in silence. The only noise made was the sound of the bathroom door slamming shut. A few more moments passed, and your mother gripped at your father's arm. There were slight tears in her eyes as well.

"Oh, I didn't mean to… we just want our baby to be happy, and… oh no, I've been terrible."

Your father rested his hand atop your mother's, "Dammit, we screwed up. I'll go talk to - "

"I'll go."

Satoru got up off his knee as he closed the box, returning it to his pocket.

"Oh, honey - "

Your mother began, but Satoru closed his eyes and gave a light smile,

"It's okay. I want to. We talk about everything."

With a blink, your father motioned his arm down the hall to point out the bathroom where you were currently sobbing in. Satoru glided down the hall smoothly, and his knuckles tapped at the door.

"Open up."

"No!" you managed to croak out between hiccups.

There was a brief pause.

"I will break down this door if I have to."

No response except for a sniff.

"I'm gonna do it!"

When you heard the doorknob jiggle, you gasped and immediately flung the door open. Satoru could most definitely break down the door, and easily too. So to save yourself more trouble for the evening, you opened it. Immediately, Satoru pushed you back inside and slammed the door behind him, locking it. You both just stared at each other for a while, until between all the sniffs, Satoru wiped a tear from your eye with his finger.

"Hey." he greeted softly with a small smile.

"Satoru, why don't you just go home?"

"I don't want to."

If you weren't so upset, you would have asked why. There was no energy for that as you were still drying the last of your tears and composing yourself. In attempts to ease the situation at hand, Satoru smiled and spoke his next words so casually. As if nothing had just happened.

"I gotta ask you a very important question."

"Right now? I don't think this is a good time."

He smiled again, seeming to ignore you.

"Will you go out with me?"

A beat.

"Oh, that's real funny, you jerk!"

"I'm serious."

He grabbed your hands in his own, looking at you with a calm and collected face. His blue eyes were slightly lidded again. Even in the crappy lighting of your parents' bathroom, they still shined. They still looked good. And Satoru looked damn good too.

"You said you'd do anything in return, and I want a date."

"Are… are you for real right now?"

"I've been wanting to ask you for a while actually."

You licked your lips at him. You titled your head to the side at the soft look in his eyes. He wasn't laughing, nor was he smiling, and he still held your hands in his own. He continued.

"So let's go on one date. And then you can decide from there if I'm being real or not."

Remember, he touched your butt. He got a kiss. Plus, he proposed to you. All that and you weren't even together. All that, even when you told him not to. If all of that happened, and you weren't even dating yet, then what would the real deal be like?

Satoru was so insufferable.

Maybe… it was all a little fun. And maybe, it did feel natural. Throughout the night, maybe you did think about actually having a relationship with Satoru Gojo. He was everything you needed and more. He was always there, and he made you laugh. There were countless memories with him. On top of that, maybe he'd let you touch his butt once in a while too. He was kind of hot, after all. Just kind of. And the butt. So with a smile, you let out a giggle.

"Yes, I'll go out with you."

A grin broke out on his face as he pulled you in for a hug. You buried your face in his chest and smiled when you reached your arms around to clutch the fabric of his shirt at his back. With a deep breath, you never realized how truly nice it was to hold him. Promptly, Satoru pulled back for a minute.

"Oh, by the way I am totally not kissing you in your parents' bathroom. Not hot at all."

He grinned again, and you broke out into laughter. You threw your head back as tears collected in your eyes from how hard you were laughing this time. Once you were able to calm down, Satoru shuffled and stuck his hands in his pocket again to pull out the sapphire ring from earlier.

"Oh yeah, will you at least keep this dumb ring?"

"I could never! That's a family heirloom!"

"Aw, please? It's old and dusty. I don't even want it." he scoffed, basically shoving it into your hands. You took a moment to study his face. He wasn't even looking you in the eye, and a pink hue was at his cheeks. A smirk appeared on your lips.

"You might need it someday."

With a wink, you placed it back in Satoru's hand, slowly closing his fingers around it. You didn't think it were possible, but Satoru's cheeks went even darker and redder in color. Unlike him, you actually knew when to stop tormenting the person you had a crush on. So you quickly changed the subject.

"So when do you want to go on a date?"

"You free tomorrow?"

"I'm all yours."

"All mine?" he purred, "I like the sound of that."

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