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stellamancer · 9 months

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hey lonely stranger (won't you meet my eye?) — reader x satoru gojo

notes: yes, hello, here it is, the infamous lonely stranger fic. i mentioned the idea a couple months back to @willowser i thought i'd write it after finishing shine on the sea, but as usual, where gojo is concerned i'm eating my words. title comes from this song. i apologize for me love of weeb music. anyway. i hope you enjoy.

contains: fem!reader (no pronouns, no physical description), typical annoying satoru gojo antics, the faintest hint of possessive/jealous gojo, unresolved romantic tension, allusions to canon typical violence

wc: 6.4k [ao3 link; account required]

There are a lot of places where you’d expect to run into Satoru Gojo.

A match-making party is most definitely not one of them.

First of all, why is he even here? You have no doubt that the world’s strongest sorcerer has much more important things to do than attend a match-making party. Not that he even needs to in the first place. Even without the status and the prestige that his family name brings, his looks alone are more than enough to get people to throw themselves at his feet. That being said, his personality is definitely off-putting enough to make some marriage candidates run the other way. So, who knows, maybe he does need help finding a spouse after all.

You grimace, watching in real time as some of the bolder participants make a beeline toward him, eager to mingle with objectively the most attractive man in the room before the event officially begins. Even from your spot across the hotel ballroom you can see him basking in all the attention. Maybe that’s the real reason why he’s here.

After all, there’s no one who owns the limelight like Satoru Gojo.

Even though it is nothing new to you, there’s something about watching all these people fawn over him that makes you sick to your stomach. You tell yourself it’s because they’re being fooled by him and his offensively handsome face and not because you’re upset that he’s here.

You were actually kind of looking forward to this match-making party, but now you’re annoyed and it's all Gojo’s fault. You’ll have to avoid him as much as you can. It shouldn’t be too hard later on when everyone is free to converse with whoever they want, but before that is the speed dating portion. It’s an unfortunate inevitability that you will have to sit across from Satoru Gojo for two minutes of the hour-long speed-dating session, but maybe you’ll be lucky and maybe he’ll be one of the last, if not the last person for you.

In hindsight, you feel like you should have known better than to hope that luck would have your back when it’s always, always favored Satoru Gojo.

At first, you think it's merciful, sparing you from having to deal with him first. It would have really sucked for you to go through all your speed-dates in a Gojo-induced bad mood. But as he comes closer and closer one two minute interval at a time, you start to wish that you'd started with him first, and just gotten it out of the way.

Despite the threat of Satoru Gojo looming over your head, you do your best to focus on the people who come to your table. Two minutes is not a lot of time at all. Some seem to realize that and try to squeeze as much talking as they can in that amount of time. Some are paralyzed by it; awkwardly floundering for the hundred twenty seconds given to them. There are a couple people that you manage to enjoy a nice, albeit short, conversation with. Despite that, you still find yourself sneaking glances in Gojo's direction, hyper aware of the dwindling number of people sitting between you.

The man sitting before you now, Tasuke Tomoda, you think his name is, leans in toward you and gestures for you to do the same. He's the last person separating you from Gojo and he's been pretty pleasant so far, so you do as he asks and move a little bit closer to him.

"So, uh, I've noticed that you keep looking over there." His voice is barely audible as he inclines his head just slightly in Gojo's direction. “At him.”

You inhale sharply. This guy is the first one who’s noticed, or, at least, the first who's decided to say anything about it. You feel a bit ashamed to have been caught, especially when you thought you’d been discreet.

Just as you’re about to offer an apology, Tomoda adds, “I’m not mad or anything. I mean… he’s quite the looker, isn’t he?”

Before you can stop it, you grimace and Tomoda catches it, his eyes widening in obvious surprise. “You don’t think so?”

You don’t need to think so; you know so— for as long as you have been unfortunate to know him, Satoru Gojo has taken great pleasure in flaunting his good looks whenever possible. You scowl and admit, your voice an annoyed sort of murmur, “His looks are fine, I guess, but his personality…”

You don't know where to begin and you don't know if you should.

Tomoda’s gaze flits toward Gojo and he moves even closer, whispering so quiet that nobody else can hear. “...yeah, he does kinda look like an asshole, doesn’t he?”

You reel backwards, laughing so loud that everyone else can hear. Embarrassment flashes throughout your entire body when you realize that both couples on either side of you have gone completely silent and four pairs of eyes are now on you and Tomoda. Oops. Immediately, the both of you bow your heads in unison to one couple, then the next (with you taking great care to not look at Gojo).

Once their conversations resume, you give Tomoda an apologetic smile. “Sorry ‘bout that."

"It's fine!" Tomoda gives you a good natured sort of chuckle. "I'm just glad to have gotten a laugh out of you."

You blink, confused. "Why?"

His cheeks turn a light shade of pink and you think it’s kind of cute. “Well, it’s just that I think—"

You lean in.

"—that you're really—"

The bell signifying to change partners echoes throughout the event hall, startling Tomoda out of whatever he was going to say.

Has it really been two minutes already?

Tomoda starts to rise to switch seats, but he looks conflicted, like he still wants to say his piece.

"Wait," you tell him and you're not sure if it's because you want to delay Gojo's inevitable arrival or because you actually want to know what Tomoda was going to say.

He stops, his mouth half open. Tomoda stares and you see the hesitation swimming in his eyes. It only lasts a second though and his mouth shuts as he makes his decision. He takes a deep breath and—

"Excuse me!"

Your stomach lurches at the sound of the playful voice you know far, far too well. Tomoda looks like his soul is about to leave his body rather than his words. Slowly, reluctantly, you both turn your heads to look at the interloper.

You’d tried not to pay too close attention to Gojo when he’d walked in, but with him practically in your face right now, your eyes can’t seem to help but be drawn in. It feels like he really went all out tonight. His suit fits him perfectly, accentuating his long legs and slender yet built figure. The colors compliment his pale, flawless skin, his snow white hair and his infamous sky blue eyes. Gojo’s entire look is completed with a pair of sunglasses, over which he’s peering down at you and Tomoda.

There’s something about the amused glow in those dumb eyes of his that manages to royally pisses you off. You scowl at him, but he ignores you, his expression unchanging as he directs his attention to Tomoda.

"It's my turn now, you know," Gojo points out and while his tone is friendly enough, both you and Tomoda can clearly hear what Gojo is actually saying.

Leave.

"Right! I'm really sorry about that!" Tomoda exclaims as he basically leaps out of his seat and scrambles over to the next table. His table mate stares— not just at Tomoda, but at you and Gojo as well. You can feel the pair on the other side staring too.

Fucking Gojo.

He is completely and unwholly unbothered as he plops down in the seat opposite you, a self-satisfying smile plastered to his face. Annoyed, you cross your arms over your chest and huff, “Did you really need to cause a scene?”

“Hey, you started it,” Gojo says with a chuckle. “Actually, I think you were so loud that everyone heard.”

“Shut up,” you hiss, throwing your most venomous glare in Gojo’s direction, hoping that, for once in his damn life he listens.

Naturally, he doesn’t.

“So, what’d that guy say that was so funny?” Gojo’s tone is casual, almost nonchalant as he leans in your direction. He reaches up with one hand to adjust his glasses, pulling them down just enough to reveal the shocking blue of his eyes staring you down.

You know he means to disarm you this way, to make you spill, but you manage to hold your ground. “Who knows? That’s between me and him.”

Gojo tilts his head to the side, still smiling as he responds. “Oh? You into that guy?”

“And if I was?” you ask, your words nearly a challenge. In all honesty, you don’t know if you can say if you’re into Tomoda or not. He’s certainly made the biggest impression out of everyone you’ve talked to so far and you wouldn’t be against hitting him up during the free talk section of the event. Who knows? Maybe you just need to talk to him a little more to find out.

“Hate to break it to you, but it’s not going to work out.”

“You don’t know that,” you shoot back, feeling defensive because Gojo doesn’t know. There’s no way he could. His stupid Six Eyes can see a lot of things, but the future is not one of them.

“I do actually,” Gojo responds simply. His voice is even, with none of his characteristic smugness woven in. That being said, you think you catch the meaning in his words and it angers you even more. Just because you’re a sorcerer that doesn’t mean your dating pool needs to be confined to the members of jujutsu society. You know a few sorcerers who have dated, and even married non-sorcerers.

“Wrong! You don’t know anything,” you insist viciously and if you were anywhere else you’d be just about ready to start throwing punches. You’ve never beaten Gojo in a fight (except maybe once, but you don’t count that because you know he threw that fight), but he’s always down to brawl with you.

“I happen to know plenty of things,” Gojo grins at you, pleased and you watch, in real time, as his delight turns devious. “Like I know that you were checkin’ me out earlier.”

Your entire body heats up and you’re not quite sure if it’s from rage or embarrassment. Another eyeful of the smirk on Gojo’s face is enough for you to decide that it must be rage. “I was not.”

“You so were,” Gojo teases, infuriatingly gleeful in his retort. “I totally get it, and it’s completely okay if you want to tell me how sexy I look tonight.”

“Hell no!” you almost yell, ignoring the growing heat in your stomach. Has it been two minutes yet? There’s no way that this clown’s time isn’t up yet. You glance at the big timer the event’s organizers have set up and… you still have half a minute with this fool.

It’s going to be the longest thirty seconds of your goddamn life.

“Come on,” Gojo nudges at you in that playful tone of his, seemingly determined to use every second he has to annoy you. “Don’t you want to tell me?”

“For someone as confident as you claim to be, you sure are desperate for validation,” you dead pan.

He ignores you. “Okay, okay, since you're feeling shy, I'll go ahead and say it: Satoru Gojo is the hottest guy here!"

You think you're going to hurl from all the second hand embarrassment. It's not like it's unnatural for Gojo to be so unashamedly confident but at an event like this you think it's probably a big no-no. "Gojo?"

“Yes?” He sounds chipper, like he thinks you’re going to compliment him after all, but when it comes to Gojo, you live to disappoint.

“Why the hell are you even here?” you ask in exasperation. Gojo has fifteen or so seconds left but you figure you might as well get something out of this exchange with him, “I doubt someone like you has a need to come to things like this, so why?”

A surprised look flashes across Gojo’s features, but he quickly conceals it behind a mischievous smirk. "You jealous?"

He punctuates his question with a wink and you roll your eyes. "As if.”

“Uh huh.”

Five seconds left. “Maybe the jealous one here is actually you.”

You don’t entirely mean it when you say it; you really intend to make one last dig at Gojo before he moves on to the next person. Plus, you don’t even really think it’ll affect him all that much, things like that never really do. At least, you’ll get the last word here.

Or that’s what you think. You should have known better.

Gojo flashes a smile at you and for a few seconds you completely forget what breathing is. You’re used to playful smiles and teasing smiles, but the look that he’s giving you right now is different somehow. There’s something about the curve of his lips, about the borderline gentle glimmer of his crystalline eyes that sets your heartbeat into a frenzy.

Just as you remember how to breathe, he speaks, stealing your breath away all over again, “Who knows. Maybe I am.”

The bell finally rings, telling you that your two minutes with Satoru Gojo are now over, but you barely even register it— your eyes fixed on the man before you.

Just like Tomoda, before him, Gojo lingers, and he looks almost a little pleased with himself. The familiar expression snaps you out of your stupor and you glower at him, shooing him away like he’s unwanted.

Like you don’t want him to stay.

Like you don’t want to ask him what in the world was all that about.

Because you don’t, you really don’t. There’s no need to, you tell yourself. It’s just another one of the whacky mind games Gojo likes to play with you.

But even as the next person sits down across from you, you can’t get the look on Gojo’s face out of your mind. Even as they introduce themselves, the only thing you hear are Gojo’s last words.

“Who knows. Maybe I am.”

That’s crazy talk. He had to be fucking with you because there’s no way. No way that Satoru Gojo, of all people, would feel jealous.

Even though you know that, you can’t get what he said out of your mind and before you know it, the speed dating section of the match-making event is over and you don’t remember a damn thing about anyone who came after Gojo.

You’re annoyed. You’re so fucking annoyed that you wasted so much damn time thinking about that stupid blue eyed bastard, but it’s fine. It’s completely and totally fine, because you still have the free talk session. If you’re lucky, one of the people who came to you after Gojo will be interested enough to come chat you up and give you the chance to make up for the fact you had temporarily lost your mind thanks to one Satoru Gojo.

And if you’re unlucky… Well, you’re confident in the thought that it should be fine to seek out Tomoda. In fact, you decide to do that first. Better to just go for it than wait around. You survey the ballroom that you’re all in and you catch sight of the man off to the side, looking around somewhat shyly.

Is he looking for you?

You don’t want to get ahead of yourself, but it’s a nice thought. Nice, but… You shake your head; you don’t want to think about him right now. Before the traitorous thoughts can sneak back into your mind, you march over to where Tomoda is standing, tightly gripping the cards in your hand. At the beginning of the event, the staff had handed these cards out, instructing everyone to fill them out so that you could easily exchange contact information with anyone who caught your interest. And since Tomoda’s the only one who qualifies, it’s only natural that you give him one.

A relieved smile spreads across his features when he notices you and it makes you think that he really was looking for you after all.

You offer him a small smile of your own. “Hey.”

“Hi!” he squeaks and his expression turns a little sheepish.

You tilt your head in confusion. "What's up?"

"Just… a little surprised that you came to find me.”

"Huh? Why?"

Tomoda frowns, looking conflicted and, finally, he answers in a slow voice. "Well, that really handsome looking asshole seemed like he was really into you."

You blink.

Huh.

Huh?

Huh!?

You nearly double over in laughter. No offense to Tomoda but the thought is just flat out ridiculous. Satoru Gojo is into you? No way. Absolutely no way in hell. Not in a thousand, no, a million years would Gojo seriously—

"Who knows. Maybe I am."

Suddenly, your mouth is dry, your laughter dying in your throat as Gojo's words echo in your head yet again. There's no way he was serious then, right? He only said that to mess with you, to get the last word in, because there's no way, definitely no way…

You take a deep breath to compose yourself. Tomoda is still there and you're grateful that he hasn’t walked away thinking that you’re completely out of your mind. You take another breath, just in case, before you attempt to say anything. "What makes you think that?"

"Other than the obvious?" Tomoda asks, his tone a touch dry, and you frown, remembering how Gojo had made a scene earlier.

"...yes," you finally grumble when you realize that Tomoda is actually looking for an answer. "Other than that."

For some unknown reason, he seems hesitant to say anything further, but you gesture at him, urging him to speak. "Well, he… I noticed that he kept looking over at you after his turn.”

"That's because—" you start but then stop short when you realize that you actually have no answer. Your brain goes into overdrive trying to think of some kind of explanation, some kind of reason as to why Gojo would possibly…

"Who knows. Maybe I am."

The words are louder now. Almost deafening.

Still, you try to block them out.

"That's because he said something before we switched," you say desperately, like you’re grasping at straws. "I think he was just trying to fuck with me for the hell of it and, I don't know, maybe he kept looking to see how good of a job he did?"

Your lame explanation doesn’t seem to convince Tomoda. It doesn’t really convince you either. You rifle through your thoughts, trying to find some other possible reason, but everything you find seems to support Tomoda’s claim that, somehow, some way, Satoru Gojo is into you.

Tomoda looks like he’s trying to figure it out too, his expression contemplative. "...do you mind if I ask you a question?”

"...go ahead, shoot."

"You two knew each other before this, right?”

"Unfortunately," you admit begrudgingly. "But I didn't know he'd be here tonight."

Tomoda hums and nods his head slowly as he takes your words into consideration. He pauses, and then starts nodding again, quicker this time and you wonder if he’s figured something out. His expression shifts and you recognize this look; it’s the same as earlier when he was leaving your table. There’s something he wants to say, but he’s not sure if he should.

You have the distinct feeling that you're not going to like whatever it is, but still you push him to say it all the same. "What is it?"

Tomoda stares at you. Given the fact that this is a match-making event, you would expect some level of agitation or annoyance on his part, but the only thing you see in his bright, kind eyes is a curious glint. "Are you into that guy?”

No.

That's what you expect to say because that’s what you always say, but when your lips part to answer Tomoda's seemingly innocuous question nothing comes out. Yet the word remains there, stuck to the tip of your tongue and you don't understand why.

Maybe it’s the earnest look in Tomoda’s eyes or the strange and irritating feeling that’s been lurking in your chest ever since Gojo spoke to you earlier, but something, something is holding your denial at bay. More than that, it’s bidding you to actually be honest with yourself.

Because deep down you know the answer, and, worse than that, you know it isn’t no.

The truth fills your mouth, the shape of it uncomfortable and heavy in your jaw. It’s almost too much to handle, to keep in; one slip of the tongue and you’ll end up spilling it everywhere. If that happens— when that happens, you won’t be able to take it back.

When that happens, you won’t be able to deny Satoru Gojo any more.

And truthfully, the thought of it frightens you. That’s why you’ve kept your feelings buried deep inside you. That’s why you’re here at this match-making event, seeking a love that doesn’t scare you shitless. That’s why you keep denying Satoru Gojo’s presence in your heart.

Are you into him? Do you have feelings for him? Do you love him? You think the more important question here is are you truly prepared to answer these questions? Are you honestly ready to confront the feelings you’ve kept deep in your heart and the reality that comes with that?

When it comes down to it… you’re not.

Not here and not now.

You clamp your jaw down and forcefully swallow your feelings, condemning them back to the confines of your heart. They settle there, still uncomfortable, still heavy, but you’ll deal with them later, when they are not threatening to free themselves from the cage of your mouth.

Decision made, you look Tomoda in the eye and declare, “No, I’m not.”

He stares back at you and you can tell that he doesn’t believe you. Not one bit. But if anything, you are stubborn, persistent even. You swing one arm toward him, thrusting one of your contact cards in his direction as an offering, a prayer that, even for just a little bit, he’ll indulge your delusions.

Tomoda looks conflicted, like he’s biting his tongue and his gaze flickers between the card and your face. Finally, it stops on your face. His eyebrows furrow together in what is clearly concern, “Listen, you don’t—”

He stops short when you throw up your other arm, presenting the rest of your contact cards to him. You mean to send a message in the gesture, though honestly, at this point it’s probably futile. Still, you have to try.

Tomoda’s eyes ease down to the three cards fanned out before him, but he makes no move to take any of them. Instead, he sighs, clearly sympathetic when he looks at you directly. You see yourself reflected in his eyes and you look more desperate than determined.

Once again, he opens his mouth to speak, but this time you beat him to the punch, and you plead, “Please.”

Tomoda doesn’t move.

“Please,” you insist.

He continues to hold your gaze before, eventually, his shoulders slump, a clear sign that he’s given into you. You smile wryly; this man is truly too kind for his own good. Hopefully, he lives a long, happy life, free from the curses that plague your day-to-day life.

“...it’s not going to work out.”

Gojo’s voice echoes in your head once more, almost mocking you, and your hands waver just a tiny bit. You didn’t need him to tell you because deep down you already knew. It’s still annoying, but you manage to keep the disdain off your face for Tomoda’s sake.

Besides, it doesn’t mean that you can’t be friends. You think that, at least, that much should be fine.

Having finally given into your demands, Tomoda starts to reach for your cards. Just as he’s about to grasp them, another hand, pale with long, slender fingers shoots out and swipes all three cards from your grasp. Your head whips up to look at the interloper and, of course, who else do you find but Satoru Gojo, his trademark grin plastered to his face.

“I’ll be taking these,” he announces casually, slipping your cards into his shirt pocket.

You gape wordlessly at him and he continues to smile at you like some sort of angelic devil. Then, as swiftly as he appeared, he turns on his heel and walks off into the crowd.

Slowly, you turn to look back at Tomoda, who turns to look at you. He seems as stunned as you feel, but you think he recovers first. The man gives you a gentle smile and you think that he truly deserves the world— a world you can’t and could never give him.

“You want to go after him, don’t you?” he asks. You can’t even begin to comprehend why, but he sounds almost amused. Is whatever’s going on between you and Gojo entertaining or something?

Scowling, you answer, “If only to beat his stupid handsome face in.”

This time you’re the one who’s made Tomoda laugh and it alleviates your annoyance just a bit. “Go on, then, I’ll be cheering for you.”

“It’s not like that,” you say automatically.

“If you say so.”

You sigh, ready to follow after that damn idiot, but before you do, you bow in Tomoda’s direction and tell him, earnestly, “I’m really sorry.”

He chuckles again and gestures for you to go. “Get going then, you don’t want to lose him.”

You feel like there’s some kind of double meaning in his words, but he’s right; if you linger too long you might not be able to catch up to Gojo. For good measure, you bow once more before taking your leave.

It’s lucky that Gojo is so damn tall— you spot him almost immediately, at the entrance to the ballroom. You trail after him, expertly weaving through everyone else in the room, but by the time you reach the ballroom doors he’s already gone.

Damn that man and his long legs.

“Excuse me.”

You turn to face whoever is speaking to you, actually hoping that it’s not a potential suitor. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, it’s one of the event staff.

“Yes?” you answer carefully, praying that they’re not about to reprimand you for the outburst you had earlier.

“If you’re looking for that handsome gentleman, he headed that way,” the staff member informs you, pointing down the hallway. At the other end you see a large sign indicating the hotel’s garden is in that direction. It’s a weird place for Gojo to go, but then again he’s just like that sometimes. Grateful, you bow to thank the event staffer before heading in the direction they indicated.

When you walk out into the garden, it feels almost as if you’ve been transported to another world entirely. The night air is cool on your face, and the loud chatter of the ballroom is completely gone, replaced with the gentle sound of running water. Maybe there’s some sort of fountain nearby. Looking around, you step further into the garden. You’re surrounded by a canopy of trees, their branches adorn with fairy lights that illuminate the area in a soft, warm glow. You remember reading that this hotel is a popular wedding venue and you wonder if this garden is where they hold the ceremonies. It would make sense, but it appears that no one is getting married here tonight.

There’s no sign of Gojo though.

The garden is pretty big, so you keep searching. As you walk, the sound of water grows louder and soon enough you find yourself at what has to be the center of the garden. Your entire body stills, your jaw nearly dropping as you take in the sight before you. The fountain you had speculated about turns out to be much, much larger than you thought. It’s really more like a stone pool than a fountain. It’s surrounded by decorative stone structures, which seem to be fountains themselves, feeding water into the pool. Finally, you take a step closer, and you notice the fountain is illuminated, giving the water a soft, ethereal glow. Running through the center of the pool, bisecting it, is a disjointed stone pathway, the steps spaced enough to reveal the water beneath, but close enough to prevent a bridal train or anyone paying attention to where they’re stepping from taking an unwanted dip.

At the end of the pathway is a small landing, a small, square island in the middle of the pool. The edges are decorated in flowers and decorative stone lanterns. It’s picturesque and you think that this must be where people exchange their vows and promises of everlasting love.

It’s here where you find Satoru Gojo.

His back is to you, and you could, if you wanted, turn back around and leave him here.

But you don’t.

You make your way toward him, carefully stepping onto the stone pathway as if you might slip or sink into the water beneath. When you’re sure of your footing you take a step forward, then another, and another. Just as you’re about to make it to the landing, Gojo turns around to face you. He smiles, and your entire body goes still at the sight. The look on his face is far softer, far sweeter than you’re used to. If you were crazy, you’d go so far as to say that it looks almost loving.

He takes a step toward you, and then another and another. With each step he takes, your heartbeat grows louder and more erratic, the sound of it filling your ears. Your eyes are fixed on Gojo as he approaches and you wonder if his infinity is up because it almost feels like the closer he gets the slower he goes.

But eventually, he does reach you.

Gojo looks down at you and you can see that amused sparkle in his eyes as he says, “Look who decided to join me tonight.”

The sound of his voice frees you from your daze and you glare at him. “Cut the crap, Gojo.”

His lips curve, forming an expression you’re more familiar with, one you��re used to wrangling. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb; it’s not cute,” you hiss, earning you the smallest pout from him. You ignore it. “Why’d you take my cards earlier?”

“I—” he begins, enunciating dramatically, “was saving you from a world of heartbreak.”

“Were you?” you ask, your voice less of a challenge than it was before.You can tell Gojo notices from the shift in his expression.

He doesn’t say anything about it though, and he continues, his voice dropping to something more somber, more serious. “It wouldn’t work out.”

You look into his eyes, staring at the endless sparkling blue sky within them and consider arguing with him, disagreeing with him because it’s like second nature to you.

But you decide not to.

Instead, you look away as you admit, “I know.”

Gojo doesn’t laugh or gloat and it makes you wonder if your confession surprises him. You don’t check though, and continue speaking, your voice low, “Tomoda's a nice guy. He deserves a happy, normal love and that's… not something I can promise him."

For as long as you are a jujutsu sorcerer, your life will always be in danger. Every mission carries not only the risk of death, but the chance that you won't even make it home in a body bag. The stress of that, the fear of it, isn't something you can carelessly give to someone else, especially not someone you’d want to spend the rest of your life with. You’d like to think it’d be different with another jujutsu sorcerer, someone who knows the reality of the world you’re part of, but even then you have your doubts.

"So," Gojo's voice is strangely quiet and you notice there's something, some emotion you don't recognize saturating his tone, "you into that guy?"

You sigh as you answer, honestly this time, "No. I'm not."

Gojo doesn't say anything in response— no wiseass quip, no pompous remark, nothing. You don't mind, but it's very odd for him to be silent.

Naturally, it doesn't last for long.

"You know," he drawls, his tone suddenly playful. "Even though I was obviously the hottest person in the room, you looked pretty good yourself."

It feels like all the air has been knocked out of you. The compliment, on its own, is strange because you can't even remember the last time Gojo complimented you, if he ever has, but more than that, where in the world did that come from? You know Gojo has a penchant for unpredictable behavior, but this is something else.

In your shock, you turn to face him, and you realize that the compliment was just the tip of the iceberg. He's leaning down, his gaze fixed on you, the blue glow of his eyes wiping the knowledge of how to breathe from your mind. His palm ghosts over your cheek, and though he's not touching you, you can still feel the warmth emanating off it. You are hyper aware of him coming closer, his face, his lips approaching yours.

No, no, no.

It has to be some illusion, some trick of the mind, because there's no way that Satoru Gojo actually wants to—

Bewildered, you take a step back and your foot manages to wedge itself in one of the gaps of the stone pathway. You wobble, thrown entirely off balance. Seconds later, you're falling sideways straight into the water.

Gojo stares down at you, actually looking shocked for once and you wish you had your phone out to take a picture. It doesn't take long for him to get over it and he starts to laugh uncontrollably.

You glare at him like a drenched cat and raise your hand to splash at him. Weirdly enough, he lets the water hit him, his infinity remaining inactive.

"Don't laugh!" you snap at him.

Of course, he keeps laughing.

You try to lift yourself out of the water, but the river stones beneath you are too slippery for you to get a good grip. If you reposition yourself you think you could do it, but if you do your clothes will be completely drenched and that's the last thing you want right now.

With an exasperated sigh, you ask, "Gojo, will you please help me?"

He snickers, "Wow. Didn't think you'd actually ask."

You glare at him.

"Okay, okay," he steps toward you and outstretches one of his hands for you to take. For once, you don't hesitate to take it and Gojo pulls you from the water with ease, but you think that maybe he uses a little too much force as you collide with the expanse of his chest.

This is too close! You try to take another step back, but Gojo is faster, wrapping his arms around you to keep you from moving.

"Careful," he warns and you think he's teasing you. Is it just you, or is his voice just a touch deeper than normal? Regardless, the sound manages to scramble your thoughts a little. "Or you'll end up taking another dip."

"...right," you mumble, trying to straighten your thoughts. "Thanks."

You think Gojo will let you go.

But he doesn't, and the two of you remain there, pressed close. You're sure the wetness of your clothes is spreading to his, slowly messing up that expensive suit of his. Gojo doesn't seem to care though, but maybe that's because it's just water.

"...you could do it, if you wanted," Gojo's voice is barely audible.

"Huh?"

When he speaks again, it's louder this time, "Give someone a normal, happy love. It's not like you're completely broken or anything like that."

You blink, confused. What is he talking about? Then it clicks and you explain, "That's not it."

Now it seems like Gojo’s confused for once. "Huh?"

"I meant… he’s a non-sorcerer, so…" you trail off, not wanting to explain. Gojo should be able to catch your drift.

He does. “Right, right. It’d suck for your non-sorcerer boyfriend if you were to just suddenly die a terrible and horrific death, huh.”

A little too well. “I think it’d suck for my sorcerer boyfriend too, if I had one.”

“That’s probably true, but if your boyfriend was a sorcerer, then maybe you’d die cruel and unusual deaths together. That’s romantic, isn’t it?”

“Actually, I think it’s kind of morbid.”

You think you feel Gojo’s arms shift, as if his grip is tightening ever so slightly around you. But then he starts to laugh and you figure it must have just been your imagination. You don’t really get why he’s laughing, though.

"What's so funny?" You ask when his laughter finally dies down.

"Nothing!"

You sigh. Should have known better than to think he’d give you a straight answer.

Gojo finally steps away from you, taking the warmth of his body with him and you dismally realize that you rather enjoyed him being so close. Desperately, you try to tell yourself that it’s because with him gone you’re remembering how cold and wet your clothes are right now and not for any other reason.

It's going to suck going all the way home like this.

You hear the sound of rustling cloth and as you look up you catch Gojo draping his giant blazer over your shoulders. It's warm and before you realize what you're doing you're tugging it closer around you, the scent of Gojo's cologne filling your nostrils. It’s nice you think, definitely expensive, but nice.

He stares at you, the expression on his face the strangest one yet.

"What?" you ask.

Gojo merely shakes his head again and it's obvious he plans to keep this to himself too. "Come on, let's go. Can't have you catching a cold now, hm?"

He grabs you by the wrist and starts to pull you toward the garden exit. And, maybe you're imagining it, but you think you might see the palest shade pink dusting the tips of his ears.

extra scene can be found here. :3c

#satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x y/n #nikuniku fics #i have a lot to say about this fic but i will do so elsewhere #infinite loop!verse

625 notes · View notes

stellamancer · 7 months

Text

(though we may) fall apart - reader x satoru gojo

notes: uh. so this started as a vent fic and it kind of evolved into this. in some ways it kind of feels like a character study, but writing from gojo's perspective is uh. a ride. additionally, this is meant to be a companion fic to between the moon's divide, though it's not required reading (especially since this fic takes place before that one).

contains: fem!reader (no gendered terms, no physical descriptions, but implied to be smaller than gojo if you look closely enough), gojo's absolutely bonkers pov, hurt/comfort, physical violence (in which reader punches gojo), mentions of anxiety and mental breakdowns

wc: 4.3k -> [read on ao3; account required]

Satoru has good eyes.

Not just in the sense that they're beautiful— because they are: clear as the daytime sky and bright as the stars in the night. His eyes, a breathtaking shade of blue, have been a source of admiration and envy all his life, captivating and entrancing people left and right, but their sheer beauty isn't even the best thing about them.

It's the fact that his eyes let him see, let him really see.

Perceptiveness is not a skill that Satoru Gojo has ever had to learn, but one that's been thrust upon him, branded into the hue of his eyes. There's very little that he doesn't notice– that he doesn't see. From subtle shifts in body language to the ebb and flow of cursed energy, there is almost nothing that isn't laid bare before Satoru's Six Eyes.

That's how Satoru knows that something is wrong.

To your credit, you’re very good at hiding it— years of practice paying off in full. Everyone seems none the wiser when you smile and say you’re fine. Satoru wonders if they actually believe you or if they just don’t want to open that can of worms, but he can tell— from the faint, yet dissonant undercurrent in your voice that you are anything but fine.

The fact that your cursed energy is wound tightly around your form, like a protective cocoon doesn’t help your case either.

But that’s probably something only Satoru, with his Six Eyes, can discern.

He makes it a point to not call you out for your deception in front of everyone— you like to wear a brave face, so he’ll be nice enough to not tear it down in front of everyone to see. Besides, if he did that, he would lose major brownie points with you, and he can’t be having that.

Satoru watches with careful eyes as you take the first chance you possibly can to dip from the conversation the other sorcerers have roped you into about recent missions. You say you’re going to go find food, but Satoru knows that you’re really saying that you’re going to go find somewhere to fall apart in peace, in solitude.

He’s nice enough to let you have your lies, but letting you have that is going way too far.

Satoru follows after you at a distance, feeling generous enough to let you have some semblance of space as you amble down the hallways of the school. Must be looking for some secluded classroom or something. It would probably be better for you to go home— that would probably be the best place for you to cry your little heart out, but you’re probably not thinking straight.

Lucky him.

You arrive at your destination, a classroom tucked away in the corner of the building and scurry inside, not even looking back as you slide the door shut behind you. Would you have even noticed Satoru standing there if you had looked? Or would your despair have clouded your vision? Satoru’s eyes narrow just slightly at the thought of that; somehow, he doesn’t like it.

All the more reason to rip that facade right off your face.

It takes everything in him to not march straight into that classroom and terrorize you until you forget whatever it is that’s upsetting you. Satoru reminds himself that he’s being kind— being generous and letting you have a few moments for yourself. Not that he’d really know, but he’s heard crying is cathartic, so it’s probably best to let you shed a few tears before he swoops in like the dashing leading man that he is. For now, he’ll just wait at the door and give you a few minutes.

But then he hears it— the sound of a soft, strangled sob, and before Satoru knows it, the door is flying open and he’s entering the threshold of the classroom.

You glare at Satoru and he knows you’re trying your best to look as furious as possible, but the watery eyes and wobbly lips really dampen the heat of your gaze.

He shuts the door behind him before he speaks, “It’s kind of creepy to cry alone in a classroom.”

Your eyes grow wide for a fraction of a second and you scowl at him before whirling around to turn your back to him. “If you’re going to be an asshole, then you can walk right back out that door and pretend you never saw me.”

Satoru can’t help but chuckle a little. No chance of that. Not in a million years. He steps toward you, circling around so that you’re facing one another again. Leaning down, he grins and says, “Now why would I do that?”

Stubbornly, you refuse to look at him as you struggle to answer. Satoru is well aware of the fact that you and he both know that he wouldn’t do that, but he’s interested in seeing what you have to say.

Finally, you answer, expression twisted and almost unwilling as you speak, “To prove that you are the nice and awesome teacher that you claim to be?”

“Oh, but I am,” Satoru says, rising with a laugh. “You see, the students were all scared because they heard crying, and thought maybe this classroom’s haunted. Naturally, being the very brave and super cool teacher that I am, I came to check it out.”

You stare at him, looking completely and wholly unimpressed as usual. “Do you just enjoy lying?”

“It hurts me that you don’t believe that I’m concerned about the students’ mental well being!” Satoru bemoans dramatically.

“Because you’re not!” you shoot back. Something flickers in your eyes, and looking embarrassed, you quickly add. “At least not right now.”

Satoru smiles, pleased at the implications of your addendum. He's well aware that his easy-going demeanor makes it hard to believe any claims of sincerity. Most people, which sometimes includes you, think he's full of hot air— but he really does have the students' best interest at heart and he's glad to know that, deep down, you remember he does too.

"You're right," he says nonchalantly, his smile only widening as the surprise makes itself apparent on your face. He bets that you thought he would stick to the usual script: insist that he's always concerned about the students. You should know better though since Satoru revels in making unpredictable plays. "Right now, I'm concerned about you."

The completely stunned look on your face is priceless. Your lips are slightly parted, your eyes blown as wide can be, still a little red from the tears you shed before he walked in. Something about your expression is softer and Satoru wishes he could immortalize it in a more tangible sense, but for now he decides to settle by committing it to memory.

Quickly, your shock gives way to your typical annoyance, your defenses rising in response to Satoru’s earnestness. There’s something about it— about the thought of tearing them back down that's almost exciting. “You really do like lying, huh?”

“I’m not lying,” Satoru says plainly. “You are my favorite colleague, you know.”

It’s not a lie. Your eyes narrow in clear disbelief though. He would expect nothing different from you. “You know, I’ve heard you say the same thing to Nanami.”

Satoru smiles, unshaken by your accusation. “Okay, so maybe I have. Who says I can’t have two favorites?”

You give him a pointed look. “So what am I, the flavor of the day or something?”

“Sure,” Satoru agrees with ease. He likes that analogy— reminds him of ice cream. If you were a flavor, what would you be? Something with a lot of different textures? Definitely something that’s subtly sweet, though. Not that it matters, it would be his favorite all the same— his only favorite. “So what’s with the waterworks?”

There’s a split second of hesitation before you respond. “Nothing. It’s— I’m fine.”

If Satoru wasn’t sure before, he is now, more than ever; you’re not fine. In the stillness of this otherwise empty classroom it’s easier to hear the strained notes in your voice, the lie weaved into the melody of your words. He tilts his head, a wry grin playing at his lips. “So, who’s the liar now?”

A scowl blooms across your features and the sight of it stirs something in Satoru’s chest. Satisfaction, maybe? It doesn’t seem quite right, but he is pleased that he’s read you so effortlessly.

“I— just— it’s nothing,” you grind out. It looks almost as if you’re going to add something else, but you don’t, as if you think better of it. Can’t have that. Your reticence is kind of annoying, but Satoru doesn’t care all that much; he’s sure he can coax it out of you.

He leans back down so that he’s at eye level, reaching up to pull his blindfold down and reveal his eyes. Your entire body goes tense, but Satoru ignores it as he places a hand on his chin, making an elaborate show of examining your face. “You sure about that? You seem kinda agitated.”

You don’t respond right away, your gaze transfixed on the hue of his eyes. Of all the weapons at his disposal, Satoru’s eyes are the most effective against you. You’d never admit it, but you’re weak against them; the brilliant blue of his irises never failing to entrance you. It might be a little mean of him to wield them against you, but Satoru is known for being ruthless.

“That’s—” you start, the words catching in your throat before you force them out. “That’s because you’re all up in my face right now, Gojo.”

Another lie. Mostly. Some of your agitation is definitely proximity based right now.

“Then let me rephrase; you’ve been kinda agitated since you got back from your mission earlier.” His hand moves from his chin to his ear and he taps it lightly. “Could hear it in your voice.”

The revelation leaves you looking absolutely mortified. Satoru is almost delighted because he can practically hear you asking if you were really that obvious. He plays with the thought of telling you that you were. It’s not a complete lie, but not a whole truth either, after all, not everyone is as adept at reading you as he is.

You recover fairly quickly, shoving your embarrassment aside as you say. “Don’t worry about it.”

He grins a little. “Worry about what?”

Your expression shifts to the very definition of exasperation. Satoru thinks that if you were intent on keeping whatever it is to yourself it would have been better for you to just double down on saying it’s nothing and that things are fine. Unfortunately, you just gave him something new to latch on to pry you open with. Of course he’s going to use it. In clear frustration, you sigh, “Just… just drop it, Gojo.”

“I really am worried though, you know.”

You eye him warily, not bothering to conceal your suspicion and doubt. “You don’t look very worried. In fact, you almost look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Satoru’s eyes widen just a tiny bit. You most definitely don’t realize it, but his persistence is wearing you down. Even though you’re still denying him the words he’s trying to wheedle out of you, you’re no longer handing him the absolutes of ‘it’s fine’ and ‘it’s nothing.’ You’re giving him something he can work with, something he can use, like a puzzle he’s just started to figure out, so of course he’s enjoying himself. And of course, you caught him. He grins at you, guilty. “Maybe a little.”

You rip your gaze from Satoru, jaw clenching as you bite back whatever foul words you want to hurl in his direction. It’s pretty obvious that you’re pissed by what he said and while he could have lied to you, he doubts you would have believed him. Besides, Satoru’s trying to show that he’s the honest one here.

It takes you a second to wrangle your rage back under your control as you defuse yourself with one deep, deep breath. Even though you lash out at Satoru all the time in response to his antics, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you explode in actual anger. You’ve gotten close dozens of times, sure, but each and every time Satoru has seen you swallow your feelings, forcing them down into parts unknown. It’s not like he can blame you; as sorcerers, you’re trained to control your emotions because losing control could very well be the difference between life and death.

He can’t help but wonder: what would happen if you lost control? If you let your feelings— all the sorrow and all the rage, burst from your body? Would you feel better? Would you fall apart? Would you—

Would you let him see?

It’s not until that very moment that Satoru realizes how badly he wants that— to see you come apart at the seams, to be the one to stitch you back up again. The realization brings almost all thought and emotion to a startling halt, a split second of silence before Satoru’s mind is back online, the thrum of desire running hot in his veins.

“My feelings aren’t for your entertainment, Gojo,” you say coolly.

You’re right. You’re wrong. You’re misreading this entire thing. “That’s not it. Not entirely anyway.”

It's obvious you don't believe him. Rolling your eyes, you say, "Gojo, you are such a—"

"I'm not lying."

The interruption stops you short, drawing your gaze to him and finally, finally the two of you are actually seeing eye to eye. Your pupils are blown wide, defenses demolished in the wake of Satoru’s earnestness. He watches as your eyes dart around, your mouth gaping wordlessly as you try to find something to deflect, to deny him.

Eventually, a scowl returns to your face, agitation at its very peak. “You are just—! Look, I’ll be fine, okay? You don’t need to worry about it.”

There’s a note of finality in your voice that makes it obvious that you do not want to have this conversation any more. Satoru doesn’t care, even though he knows at this point the two of you will just end up talking in circles. It’s kind of annoying, and even though he could do it all day, it’s time.

It’s time to rip that mask of yours right off.

“It doesn’t matter if I need to or not,” Satoru says, his tone serious. “Because, whether you want to believe it or not, the fact of the matter is that I am worried.”

You don’t challenge his words. In fact, you don’t say anything at all, but there is a shift in your energy and something about it doesn't seem quite right. Something in Satoru’s stomach shifts uncomfortably and it takes him a second to realize why.

Your silence reminds him of Suguru.

Of all the things Suguru didn’t say. Of all the things that Suguru swallowed— his curses, his feelings, his worries, forcing them down, down, down into parts unknown until he just couldn’t any more, until they came bursting from him, like bile, like vitriol consuming Suguru, twisting him until even Satoru could not recognize his best friend any more.

Satoru had seen the signs, after all, there is almost nothing that isn’t laid bare before the hue of his eyes. He’d seen the exhaustion set in Suguru’s face. He’d seen the way his cursed energy would wind so tightly around his form. He’d seen something was wrong.

But Suguru had said he was fine. That it was nothing. And Satoru—

Satoru had accepted that. Perceptiveness is not a skill that he has ever had to learn, but what to do with that which his eyes see, to comprehend that information, understand it, and act accordingly— those are skills he’s still working on. He saw Suguru was struggling, but Satoru thought that it was fine because Suguru said so. If something was really wrong, then Suguru would have told him because—

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Satoru is quiet. You are quiet. The room is quiet. Everything is too damn quiet.

So, Satoru does what he does best: he fills the air with the sound of his voice. He prattles on and on, knowing somewhere in his mind that it might not make you more amenable to opening up to him, but he can’t stop the words from spewing his mouth, like bile, like desperation, begging you to not turn out like his best friend. “Friends talk to one another, they rely on one another, so you don’t have to feel scared or shy about it. So—”

“...shut up.”

“Huh?” Satoru pretends he didn’t hear you. Your voice is quiet enough.

“I said ‘shut up!’” you repeat, your voice far louder. You take a half step back, one of your arms winding back, your hand balled into a fist like you’re about to punch him.

Satoru lets you.

The loud smack of skin on skin contact echoes throughout the room as your fist collides with his cheek. He reels back a bit, it didn’t hurt all that much, but… “Man, you really know how to throw a punch.”

Satoru rubs his cheek a little. Now that he thinks about it, maybe he really did need that for a second there. He looks down at you and the look on your face is absolutely horrified. It looks like someone just dumped ice cold water and now you’re frozen to the spot, scared, soggy, and surprised. There’s no doubt that you thought that your punch wouldn’t connect, that you thought the hit would get lost in the infinite space between you.

Your fist drops to your side like a sack of potatoes. As it does, your energy finally begins to unravel. Like a puppet whose strings have been cut, your entire body wobbles, and Satoru steps forward, wrapping his arms around you before you crumble to the ground.

He expects you to complain about the fact he’s holding you.

You don’t.

Instead you grumble, your voice muffled by his clothes, “You are such a dirty hypocrite, you know that? Do you talk to people? Do you rely on them?”

“Excuse me, I—”

“Yeah, fine, sure, you talk so damn much that people can’t get you to shut up. But you and I both know that it’s not like you’re saying anything of actual substance most of the time.”

He smiles wryly, though you can’t see it. “And what about right now? We’re talking, aren’t we?

“I’m talking.”

“But are you saying anything?”

You scoff a little bit. “About the same amount as you, I guess.”

Satoru hums. Sounds about right. “I do rely on other people, though. You don’t see me taking on every mission, do you? Not like I can do everything on my own.”

“People act like you can.” Something in your voice sounds almost bitter and for some reason Satoru’s chest aches at the sound. “I just feel like everyone depends on you too much because you’re the ‘strongest.’ Like, what are they going to do if you’re not around?”

“Your lack of confidence in me is kinda rude, you know,” Satoru says dryly. “Do you think something’s going to happen to me?”

“...no,” you answer, reluctant in your honesty. “But I don’t want to be one of those people, not if I can help it.”

He can’t help but laugh. “Don’t think I can handle it?”

“I don’t want you to,” you admit and Satoru frowns, silent as you continue, “I feel like you’ve got enough to worry about already. I don’t want to be adding my crap to it.”

He is more than aware of the burden on his shoulders. Carrying the weight of the world is no easy feat, but Satoru has always been up to the task— accepted it, embraced it even, his waiting hands ever ready and willing to take on more.

Satoru wouldn't mind if you gave him something more to hold.

“What if I want to?” he asks, sounding a little cheeky.

You start to push on his chest, trying to free yourself from his grip. He doesn’t let you. “I don’t care."

Satoru's arms tighten around you in retribution. Your body is a pleasant sort of warm and in the back of his mind Satoru thinks that he wouldn't mind basking in it a little. "Now, that's not very nice at all."

"I don't care!" you repeat, voice still muffled as you struggle against him. "I’m not going to be responsible for contributing to any of your possible mental breakdowns.”

“I don’t have mental breakdowns," Satoru points out. He’s not sure if you realize it, but he’s very good at compartmentalizing, prioritizing his thoughts, his feelings. And more than that—

“Yeah," you say, that bitter sound saturating your tone once more. "I imagine the strongest sorcerer can’t afford to.”

“...something like that, yeah,” he says with another laugh, loosening his grip on you. But he doesn’t let you go completely. Not yet.

You pull back enough so that he can see your face, and your frown almost looks like a pout. It’s kind of cute. “Maybe you should think about it some time. I think it would do you a world of good.”

Satoru pretends to consider it. He sees what you’re saying, and maybe you're right, but he can't. He's built different from you. Different from Suguru. “I thought about it and sorry, but no can do.”

You snort, but you don’t seem all that upset by his refusal; honestly, you probably figured as much. “Must be nice to be you."

"Could be nicer though." Satoru gives you an exaggerated sigh.

You eye him suspiciously, but ultimately take the bait and indulge him. "How so? Do you want everyone to worship the ground you walk on?"

He frowns. He's almost insulted. Almost. "You really think I'm that conceited?"

"Sometimes," you answer with a sassy sort of smile.

Satoru cannot help but stare at you— at the face you're making. Committing the image to memory is just not enough. Taking a picture wouldn't be either. Satoru's fingers twitch, desperate to reach out as if your smile is something he can grab— something he can hold and keep all to himself.

He pouts, "Well, you're wrong."

"Uh-huh…"

"What would make my life nicer," Satoru enunciates slowly, mostly for dramatic effect, "is a nice sorcerer friend who relies on me, tells me their problems and thinks I'm very cool."

You gawk at him before you start laughing. Hard. So hard that tears start forming at the corner of your eyes— that, by the time you're done your breaths are labored and heavy. Satoru is a little offended because he's being honest, but that pales in comparison to the relief he feels seeing that whatever was bothering you seems all but forgotten now. It's less likely now that you'll tell him what that was but Satoru thinks it's a small price to pay to know that you're feeling better.

Besides, he has a feeling about what it could be and so there's next time.

For better or worse, there will always be a next time.

"I'm afraid you're a little shit out of luck there, Gojo," you say once you've caught your breath. "I think your standards are a little high."

He grins. "I only deserve the best, you know."

"Then maybe you should be better first."

"I'm a great friend," Satoru insists. He knows it's not quite the truth, there are ways he could be better, could have been better. For you. For Shoko. For Nanami.

For Suguru.

But he's trying. Here and now. He's trying.

"Are you?" you ask.

"Maybe you should tell me," Satoru retorts playfully. "You know, you never did answer my question earlier."

You blink and then look away, looking a little ashamed.

"You didn't forget, did you? I'm hurt!" Satoru exclaims, exaggerating as he always does.

"I didn't forget!" you say.

"You so forgot!" Satoru shoots back. "But you can make it up to me by answering me now. And no lying this time, got it?"

You scowl at him, looking petulant and it's adorable enough that Satoru is willing to consider giving you a pass if you refuse to answer. Because, even if you don't say it, Satoru knows— no matter how rude you are to him, no matter how much you bicker with him, no matter how much you deny him, he knows the truth.

He doesn't think you'll admit it.

But to his surprise, you do.

Your answer is barely audible, a quiet sort of grumble. "Of course, we're friends… I can't believe you're actually asking me."

Satoru can't help the smile that spreads across his face, elated to hear you acknowledge the friendship between you however reluctant you may be about it. Despite that, there's something, clawing at the back of his mind, demanding and insatiable. You've just admitted to friendship, but Satoru quickly realizes that that's not enough. His fingers twitch again, striving to grasp something else, something more.

"How am I supposed to know that if you don't confide in me a little more?" Satoru asks.

You don't answer. He knows that you know he has a point.

"Listen, you don't have to tell me everything." Even though he wishes you would. "But, if something is seriously bothering you, don't go running into a classroom to cry alone. Just come to me instead."

You groan. Reluctant as always. But it's not a no, and that's good enough for Satoru.

At least for right now.

"Promise?" His voice is soft and gentle, almost a plea.

Satoru couldn't be there for Suguru, but the least he can do is be there for you.

"Okay," you answer, your voice matching his and Satoru wonders if you know, if you realize. "I promise."

extra scene/epilogue

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #nikuniku fics #infinite loop!verse

436 notes · View notes

stellamancer · 7 months

Text

(un)mentionables — fem!reader x satoru gojo

notes: real talk. i used to have this really cute light blue lingerie set and that was the inspo + aleks talking about gojo's massive dick ripping through lacy panties. that doesn't happen here, though, sorry lmaoo. uh. don't know what else to say. this is part of the infinite loop ficverse.

wc: 1.3k

contains: fem!reader (no pronouns or gendered language), suggestive situations but not anything explicit, pre-relationship (one day i'll write this established relationship fic for these idiots but not today)

You think you might as well be dead.

Ultimately, you have no one to blame but yourself for this; you should have known better than to let Gojo grab the spare water bottle from your overnight bag. In fact, you should have known better than to let him anywhere near your overnight bag. It’s not that you think him the type to just go rifling through your things without an ounce of respect for your privacy; it’s just that you know that Gojo has a knack for putting you in mortifying situations as if he’s being paid to.

“Well, well, well, what’s this?”

You whip your head around so violently that you feel a pulse of pain throughout your skull, but it is quickly forgotten when you see what this is. Gojo has certainly found the water bottle you’d offered him, but, somehow, looped around the bottle’s neck is a pair of lacy, sky blue panties that you’d haphazardly thrown into your overnight bag.

There’s little that you’d like more than passing away right here on the spot.

Gojo gingerly plucks your underwear from the bottle and shoots you a roguish grin, his eyebrows lifting suggestively. “Didn’t think you were the type to wear lace.”

You scowl and march over to him, hand whipping out to snatch your panties back from him. Surprisingly, he lets you, and you ball them up tightly in your fist. “You’re right, I prefer cotton.”

“Then where did those come from?” Gojo points at the bright blue fabric peeking through your fingers.

“How is that any of your business?” you snap.

“Just curious,” Gojo says nonchalantly. He’s still smiling though, and it annoys you.

“Curiosity killed the cat.” You roll your eyes as you toss the panties back in your bag behind him.

“And satisfaction brought it back,” Gojo finishes the entire idiom. Of course he’d know the last half of it. “Since you’re saying that, does that mean you’re going to tell me?”

Your eye twitches as you weigh your options. Refusing is the most obvious and natural option, but Gojo is nothing if not persistent. He won’t shut up if he really wants to know that badly. You don’t know why he would, but then again, he probably just would pester you for the sake of being annoying. Sometimes, it’s easier to just give him what he wants so you can move on. So that’s what you decide to do, looking away as you admit, “...it had a matching bra that was really cute.”

Gojo is silent. Unnaturally so. You would have expected him to fire off some wise ass quip, so this response, or lack of, is actually a little unnerving. Starting to feel a touch concerned, you look at Gojo, and though you cannot see the focus of his gaze with that blindfold in the way, you can just tell that he’s staring at you.

You’re not sure if you should feel proud over the fact that you’ve rendered the famous motor mouth Satoru Gojo speechless.

It’s over in an instant though, as his mouth moves to finally speak.

“Show me.”

His voice is low, quiet, as if he’d breathed out the words without even realizing it.

A strange feeling runs straight down the length of your spine, leaving you breathless, the staccato rhythm of your heartbeat almost deafening you. That was unexpected; his words, his tone, all of it.

You gawk at Gojo, trying to figure what to make of it, and he is still in a way that he never is. His lips are slightly parted, and you have no doubt that he is still staring at you, but you cannot even begin to imagine the shade of his eyes right now. Is it the bright shining aquamarine of the sky? Or the dark glimmering sapphire of the sea?

You don’t know. You don’t know. You want to though; you want to know. You want to rip that blindfold off to find out. You want to memorize every shade and every hue. You want to—

When you realize where your train of thought is heading you shake your head, senses returning to you with a start. You don’t know how two words managed to hijack your thoughts like that, but you will have none of it. Back on track, you demand, “Why the hell would I show you?”

Gojo’s lips curve upwards into a familiar grin, and you’re secretly relieved that he seems to be back to normal too. “Feelin’ shy? We’re both adults here.”

You know what he’s doing, but you’re not playing that game. There’s a lot of things Satoru Gojo can goad you into, but this is not and will not be one of them. “That’s beside the point.”

“Thought you said it was cute,” Gojo says, not giving up.

“Oh, trust me, it is,” you respond. “But I’m not showing you.”

“Why not?”

“I— Gojo, you can’t seriously be asking me this,” you groan.

“I’ve seen you in a swimsuit before,” Gojo points out matter-of-factly. “Is there really a difference between that and lingerie?”

His question gives you pause. Technically, you see his point. Technically. But he’s not quite right. “You are not someone I would be showing my lingerie off to. We are not like that.”

“Meaning you showed it to that loser ex-boyfriend of yours?” Gojo asks flatly.

You actually bought the set after you broke up, but Gojo doesn’t know that. “And if I did?”

(Annoyance, white hot and all consuming eats a hole in Satoru's stomach. He doesn't get why he's so mad. It makes sense. It makes sense.

You'd dated that lame excuse of an assistant manager for nearly a year, so it would make sense if he'd seen you—

Splayed beneath him. Disheveled. Exposed. Sky blue lace hugging your hips. A soft smile playing at your parted lips, kiss swollen and hungry for more, begging for more.

God, Satoru wishes he—

His entire body feels hot. Satoru's not sure if it's the rage or something else.)

"You and him aren't like that anymore, so I don't see the problem," Gojo says with a shrug.

If you could kill Satoru Gojo you would do so in a heartbeat. "Gojo, don't be ridiculous."

"Can't help it; it's my speciality," he says, cheekily sticking his tongue out. He tilts his head to the side, and though you can’t see directly, you can just imagine the expectant look in his eyes.

"I’m not showing you.”

Gojo pouts. If he thinks that’s going to convince you, he may as well quit his job as a jujutsu sorcerer and start a career as a stand-up comedian. “Do you really think it’s fair to let dumb losers see the supposedly cute lingerie when super cool and strong sorcerers like me get left in the dark?”

“Life’s not fair,” you dead pan at Gojo. Though it’s not like someone like him would really get that. “And he’s not a loser, you are.”

“Oh, so does that mean you’ll let me see?”

“I—” You start before grumbling. This is getting nowhere. At this rate the both of you will be bickering back and forth until the end of the night and you, for one, would like to have dinner (not with Gojo). “You know what, fine. I’ll show you, but if and only if, we run across some freaky-ass curse that melts clothes.”

You think your proposition is impossible. In fact, you're sure of it. So much so, that you think Gojo will call you out on it.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he grins with eager childlike excitement. "Really? You serious?"

You don't get his reaction. He does know that the chances of that happening are basically one in a bazillion, right? But then again, Gojo is a complete weirdo so you don't question it. Shrugging, you answer. "Yeah, sure."

Finding said freaky-ass curse that melts away just clothes sounds damn near impossible, so you don't see the harm in agreeing. There's basically no way you'll run into one, meaning no way you'll be giving Gojo an eyeful of your cute lacy sky blue lingerie.

You find out that Satoru Gojo must be the luckiest bastard on the face of the planet, because you end up eating your words two weeks later.

gojo why are you so pathetic lmao.

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #nikuniku fics #infinite loop!verse #idk what else to say #in case anyone was wondering #the bra in question was a lacy racerback bra #actually he shouldn't be let near that #bitch is gonna break the front clasp omfg

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stellamancer · 8 months

Note

hehehehehehheheheehehehehehehehehhehehehe

💘 ,':^)

THANK YOU MODAAAA. u always got my back. even if while writing this i had a mental crisis and forgot how to write gojo LMAOOOO

fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss

Gojo points at the humongous parfait pictured on the backside of the menu and grins widely at the waitress. “We’d like to order one of these, please!”

She hesitates, her eyes shifting between you and Gojo and you can’t help but get the feeling something is amiss. Are they maybe sold out for the day? That’d suck, but if that’s the case, then it can’t be helped since Gojo did say that it’s the restaurant’s most popular item. Slowly, the waitress speaks, “That item is a special couples only item, so when guests order it, we ask them to…”

She trails off, but you get what she’s saying: she wants proof that you and Gojo are dating.

Which is impossible since you and Gojo aren’t dating, not even close. You could barely even be considered friends.

You look at him, and you half expect him to bat those perfect eyelashes at the waitress, asking her to make an exception this one time, but instead he is staring at you.

Batting his eyelashes at you.

What the hell are you supposed to do?

Kiss him or something?

“Don’t be shy,” Gojo tells you playfully, looking like he’s having the time of his life.

“I—” you start, but then stop, unsure of what to do. Do you play the part he wants you to play: a partner feeling shy about public displays of affection? Or do you chew him out for not telling you the conditions of getting the parfait that you both came here for?

Surely he knew, there was no way he couldn’t have since he’s the one who suggested coming here.. If anyone should be performing any sort of PDA it should be Gojo, not you.

You’re fine with settling with a different, marginally smaller parfait.

Sensing your answer, Gojo sighs dramatically. “You can barely keep your hands off me at home, so I would’ve thought one little kiss in public wouldn’t be that bad.”

He’s such a liar; you’ve never even been to his place.

“Oh well.” His tone changes, becoming suddenly nonchalant. “So, instead of that parfait, can I get thirty of your chocolate strawberry parfait?”

The waitress blanches and you think you might see her soul trying to leave her body. You don’t blame her, you’re feeling pretty faint yourself. Thirty parfaits? Is Gojo serious?

You look at him again and he turns to you, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen a serene smile look so ominous. It’s not so much that he’s being serious about this, but more than he’s betting on you to do what he wants.

Damn him for essentially holding this girl hostage for just trying to do her job and damn you too for not being able to stick to your guns.

It’s fine, it’s whatever, it’s just a kiss.

You slam your hand down on the table and half standing as you lean forward to kiss Gojo. Your mouth collides with his and he goes completely still. Is he surprised? He wasn’t seriously goading you into just giving him a simple kiss on the cheek, was he?

The kiss lasts only a second before you whip your head from Gojo’s to look at the waitress who’s gawking at the both of you. “We’ll get just the one couples parfait, okay?”

She gulps and nods before rushing off to put the order in.

You sit back down and Gojo laughs, “I knew you loved me, after all!”

That comment earns him a scowl. “No, you knew that I wouldn’t let you make that poor girl put an order for thirty parfaits in.”

He merely smiles and that all but confirms it.

“You could have just told me, you know, before we got here,” you grumble.

“Yeah maybe, but where would be the fun in that?”

#namoda vibes #ask games #nikuniku fics #gojo x reader #gojo x you #i'm literally like how do i write gojo again???#i'm not used to this dynamic LMAO #i should have gone with the other idea #i should have not let them KISS #i wouldn't even call that a kiss

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stellamancer · 6 months

Text

for the love of god, please don't perceive me.

barely proofread. established relationship. written with infinite loop!verse reader in mind, but can be read stand alone, especially i because i think they'd hate to be perceived too.

You roll over, turning your back to Gojo. He whines out your name but you ignore him. Dumb pricks like him do not get attention at bedtime.

Doesn't stop him from trying though.

He whimpers like a kicked puppy but you remain steadfast. You're used to these tactics of his— you can ignore them. Gojo should realize that too.

And he does, because he changes them.

You feel him scooch closer to you, the warmth rippling off his body calling to you like a siren song. It's hard, but you do not lean into him; you won't give him the satisfaction.

Then you realize Gojo has gone silent and in your experience that is never a good sign. You don't say anything. You don't budge.

Everything is completely still.

And then it's not.

Your entire body tenses up when you feel Gojo's hand at your back, sliding your shirt up as high as your stillness will allow. He cannot seriously be—

The bed groans as Gojo moves closer, his hand keeping your shirt secure as he approaches you. A shiver wracks your entire body when you feel the searing heat of his lips against your skin. You try not to move, try not to show that his actions are having an immediate effect.

He pulls away for a split second before going for another one, kissing a spot just beneath the first one. Gojo's other hand finds your waist, his fingers gripping you tightly, almost desperately, as he presses his mouth to your skin again.

With each kiss he moves lower and lower and lower still.

Your heart is beating wildly in your chest. It's so hard to stay still, but you must, you must, you must.

And then Gojo's mouth kisses the band of your pajama bottoms. He drags the hand on your waist down to your hip, fingertips dancing over the section of skin just above your pants. He traces the edge of them, before his fingers slide under to—

You can't take it any more.

You start to roll away but he's faster, grabbing you and flipping you around so that you're facing him. Gojo's legs tangle around yours as he yanks you close, arms winding around your form, trapping you in.

"Dammit!" you hiss.

"Got you now!" he gloats, cheeky, every bit of sensuality abandoned and thrown to the wayside now that he’s got you in his grasp.

Defiant, you flail around, trying to free yourself but it only results in Gojo's grip going tighter and eventually you give up and go completely still as if that'll get him to loosen his grip.

It doesn't.

"...so, how long are you gonna play dead for?" Gojo finally asks. He sounds amused, but there's something else in his tone— faint but enough to put you on edge. There's no doubt that he's planning something.

You don't want to, but you should say something; who knows what Gojo will do if you don't. Intent on feeding him some smart-ass remark, you tilt your head up only to find you've played right into his hands.

As soon as you move, so does Gojo, closing the distance between you to press his forehead to yours, angled so his lips are just hovering over yours.

You freeze. Gojo's breath is sweet, almost intoxicating, and suddenly you are at war with yourself. Instinct bids you move in closer, hungry and desperate for a taste of him, but your mind keeps you still, knowing that he's insatiable. You'd be going for just a taste but he would be consuming you whole.

"You alive in there?" he murmurs and the phantom touch of his lips makes it hard to focus. "Or do you need me to bring you back to the land of the living?"

Yes. No. Both words, both answers duke it out on the tip of your tongue and you don't know which one will come out on top.

Does it even matter? You know the real winner here will be Satoru Gojo like always.

The thought of it burns you a little. You hate letting him win and that's enough to give one side the edge it needs. "No."

He chuckles and you can tell he's not surprised in the slightest. "Oh yeah? Prove it."

You know what he's trying to get you to do, in fact he couldn't be more obvious. Truthfully, there's a part of you that wants it too—to feel his lips on yours, on you, breaths mingling as you grasp at him, fingers tangling in his hair while he tugs at your clothes, desperate for as much skin on skin contact as possible.

But there's another part of you that wants to deny him. It's the force of habit, really, the denial almost ingrained in your soul, hard-written into your body like your cursed technique. There's no reason to deny him anymore, not when you've become intimate like this and yet…

You cannot help it.

You wish you could take a third option.

(You wish you were more honest.)

There's little else you can do like this, angled and positioned for the kiss that Gojo has cornered you into. You feel his lips shift as he exhales, as if his grin is widening, as if he knows that you're realizing how inevitable the kiss is. That makes you only want to fight it more.

You just don’t know how.

“You know,” Gojo murmurs after a couple moments of silence and inaction on your part. “You’re not doing a good job at proving that you don’t need me to give you the kiss of life.”

“Shut up,” you grumble. “The fact that I’m responding should be enough for you.”

Gojo hums, making it look like he’s considering what you’ve said. You know better though, especially when he says, “...nah.”

“You are so…” you trail off as Gojo moves impossibly closer, his lips are feather light against yours and any normal person would probably consider this a kiss.

Not Gojo, though.

"So… what?" he probes. "Cool? Awesome? Irresistible?"

"None of the above."

Gojo’s arms and hands shift, his grip clearly loosening. For a split second, you consider taking the chance to see if you can free yourself from him, but you’re no fool; you know better— this is just preemptive positioning for whatever he has planned.

This is checkmate, then.

Gojo chuckles and you wonder if maybe he can read your mind as he says, his mouth hot on yours, voice a low timbre that stirs something deep in the pit of your stomach, “Guess I better prove it then.”

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #nsft #nikuniku fics #the nsft tag is mostly a precaution #nothing happens #maybe one day #but for now i will continue to do these kinds of things #infinite loop!verse

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stellamancer · 8 months

Text

hey lonely stranger (won't you meet my eye?) — extra scene

note: this is less an extra scene and the other side of part of a scene. i was going to put it in parenthesis like that one bit in lip smackless, but didn't pan out. also thanks to @/namodawrites for helping me double check gooj characterization since my regular beta was playing bg3 LMAO.

wc: 663

Satoru is used to your denial. When you're with him, it's part of who you are— ingrained into your soul, hard-written in your body like a cursed technique. He finds that he doesn't mind all that much. It's kind of entertaining, really, especially when he's realized how much you are at odds with yourself when you reject him.

You constantly deny him and yet you are more aware of him than you are of anyone else.

It's honestly hilarious.

So, the relief that fills his lungs when you say those three words, when you air your denial, albeit not for him for once, surprises him a little. Satoru can say, with the utmost confidence that there was absolutely no way that you were into that guy, even if he made you genuinely laugh, even if he was the first person you sought out when you got the chance. He only asked you again to give you the chance to make peace with the truth.

Besides, if you're going to be into anyone then it would have to be—

You're not looking at him. Your gaze is turned away from him, distant and unfocused. It's like your thoughts are wandering the night sky, drifting into the cosmos. You let the words out but are you thinking about it still? A happy, normal love? He thinks you would know better than to think you can find it lurking among the stars.

Not when you can find it here on earth.

With him.

You're not looking at him, but Satoru wants you to. He wants you to look at him. Not at the sky, not at the stars, not at some stranger who doesn't have a place in your present, let alone your future.

At him.

Satoru knows you would hate it if you knew, if you realized, but it is so easy to get your attention, to draw in your gaze. All he has to do is say the right thing (or maybe it'd be more appropriate to call it the wrong thing) and your eyes will be on him in an instant, your gaze fiery and intense.

"You know," he says, amused at the thought of the expression you're going to make. "Even though I was obviously the hottest person in the room, you looked pretty good yourself."

It's not a lie. It's clear that you went all out for this event, taking great care in making sure you looked your best— dressed in clothes much nicer than anything he's seen you work in. Satoru's even willing to bet you tried your damndest to actually get a full night's rest.

His words work like a charm and you whip your head to face him. The look on your face is interesting; dazed, amazed. He's not familiar with this expression of yours and he leans in to get a better look. Without thinking about it, he reaches for your cheek, his fingers stopping short of your skin. For a split second, your eyes flit toward his hand, clearly aware of how close he is to touching you. Satoru's eyes trail down to your lips and he wonders if you've been using the lip balm he gave you. It looks like you have, with how soft and plush your lips look, but he should make sure— he wants to make sure.

It's then your denial, your rejection comes out in full force. You take a step back and next thing Satoru knows you're falling into the water.

Huh. He thought for sure this time you would have accepted a kiss from him.

It's okay, he thinks, it's only a matter of time. Besides, the view of you right now, stunned and almost mortified is a worthwhile trade.

It's actually hilarious.

He starts laughing and you give him your usual scowl, splashing at him in retaliation. He doesn't mind, he'll let you have that much because one day, one day soon he'll get that kiss from you.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #jjk x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #nikuniku fics #i literally just wanted to write the 'you're not looking at him. gojo wants you to look at him' bit #it got longer than intended #also grandma over here just discovered the make small text button omg #also gojo pov aaaaa it's hard that one wip i have that is from his pov is gonna be hell LMAO #infinite loop!verse

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stellamancer · 10 months

Text

between the moon’s divide (satoru gojo x reader)

notes: uh. a week ago i thought to myself ‘oh i want to write a kiss scene’ thinking it would take me a day or two but no it took a week of me agonizing over... everything lmao.

contains: gender neutral reader, gojo is taller than the reader (as usual), some kind of tension, and finally kissing!!

wc: 2.1k

It’s sometime past midnight when you run across Satoru Gojo standing in the school’s courtyard.

Unable to sleep, you’d taken to the halls. It’d become a habit by now, wandering the corridors like a restless ghost until sleep could evade you no longer. You’d actually been heading back to your room when you’d seen him, statuesque as he bathed in moonlight. You’d been vaguely aware that Gojo was not much of a sleeper, but you’d never run into him on one of your nighttime strolls.

You come to a stop, observing Gojo as he stares up at the moon. It’s very odd for him; to be still, to be silent.

Naturally, it doesn’t last for long.

“Finally here for our romantic moonlight rendezvous?” he asks, his tone playful, his gaze still fixed on the moon above.

You can’t help but feel mildly annoyed that he’s noticed you at this distance. “As if. I was just wondering if maybe you were thinking about returning to your home planet.”

Gojo hums as you step out onto the courtyard, approaching him. "And leave you here? You'd be lonely without me.”

You wait until you and Gojo are standing side by side to respond, not sparing him a glance as you retort, “Actually, I think you’d be the lonely one.”

At first, you don’t think much of the words that come out of your mouth. It’s habit to take anything Gojo throws at you and hurl it right back at him. The words play back in your mind as you tilt your head up to gaze up at the moon. It dominates the midnight sky, larger and brighter than anything else in the expanse above. Something about it reminds you of Gojo, strong, brilliant, and—

Lonely.

“You think?” he asks, sounding almost amused, as if you’d said something funny.

“Probably?” you answer. "Though, I don't know, maybe your home planet is full of more Satoru Gojos and you would all be one happy collective, feeding into each other's egos and all that."

The thought of more than one Satoru Gojo, much less a whole planet full of them is enough to make your head throb with pain. The world has enough problems with one alone.

"...and what if there's no one else there?"

You blink, and turn your head just slightly toward Gojo. He's still looking up at the moon, his expression almost melancholic. Something in your chest aches at the sight and you look back at the moon as if that will ease the pain.

It makes sense for him to think like that, to think his home planet would be deserted— all your lives you've been told how he's unique, how he's special, how he's the one and only Satoru Gojo. The thought, the notion that there could be another like him is near incomprehensible.

(There was one, someone, who came close and he—)

"Then don't go."

The words are barely audible, escaping your mouth like a whisper in the breeze. You're not even sure if you actually said them because under normal circumstances you'd keep such words to yourself, bury them deep inside your heart like a well-kept secret because in Satoru Gojo's hands those three words are little more than ammunition.

And as much as you loathe the thought of giving him something else he can weaponize against you, you think he needs it right now. Even with the weight of the world on his shoulders, his hands remain ever empty, ready and willing to take on more burden. If you're going to give him something to hold, it might as well be something he can find some measure of joy in.

You expect Gojo to cut to the chase and start teasing you. Hesitation is a foreign concept to him, especially with the prospect of something new to play with, but he is uncharacteristically silent. Against your better judgment, you turn your head back toward him and find that he is no longer looking up at the moon.

He’s looking at you.

Your breath stills in your chest. The bright gleam of Gojo’s eyes is a curse in of itself, rooting you to the core. You’ve never been good at dealing with Gojo like this. Stupid as that blindfold of his looks on him, it acts as a buffer, as a shield. You want to look away. You have to look away before the shocking hue of his gaze pulls you in, traps you, ensnares you with no hope of escape.

Gojo moves, shifting into a position that brings him down to your height, facing you fully as he unleashes the full power of his stupidly brilliant blue eyes on you. He leans just the slightest bit in your direction. Your heart rate climbs higher and higher as he inches closer. A voice in the back of your mind tries to remind you, to reassure you: this isn’t the first time that Satoru Gojo has pulled this kind of trick on you, and it won’t be the last. He’ll creep closer and closer toward you, taunting you, teasing you, but the space between you will forever remain infinite.

But then he presses his forehead to yours and all bets are off.

You need to get away from him. Now. You take a step back, to put some space in between you. It might be finite, but some space is better than none. But even though you’ve taken a step back you find that you are no further than Gojo than you were before, your foreheads still pressed together.

What in the world? You swear you took a step back.

Something in your peripheral shifts and your eyes flicker down for just a second, catching the corner of his mouth twitch. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Then it clicks. You’re so used to seeing him using his technique to push everything away, to make himself untouchable, that you often forget that it’s not the only thing he can do. HIs power doesn’t only repel.

It attracts too.

Your heartbeat grows erratic at the realization that the once infinite space between you is now all but obsolete. Like this, you’re far too aware of him; aware of his hair, brushing softly against your face, aware of his breathing, echoing loud in your ears, aware of his lips—

“...what are you doing?” you finally manage to whisper after what feels like an eternity.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you nearly regret them. The question is begging for trouble, inviting it and the inevitable teasing from Gojo. But still you ask— you have to, you need to. It feels counterintuitive, but you need the distraction of his answer and the annoyance it’s sure to bring to cut through the thoughts, the feelings that are threatening to swallow you whole.

You expect his response to come instantly like it always does, but… it doesn't. Something stutters in your chest at the change in routine. Is he being purposely silent? Or is he actually thinking about his words before they come out of his mouth for once?

Finally, finally, he speaks, his voice low and teasing for sure, but there's something else there, diluting his tone, laced in his words. It's subtle, but whatever it is throws you completely off balance. "I thought you said 'don't go.'"

Your mouth opens. You start to speak. But no words come out, instead they are lodged in your throat— honesty and reluctance mangled together in one huge lump. The thought occurs to you to just leave them there, unspoken. But, you wouldn't put it past Gojo to try and rip them free; with that in mind you pull at the words, unraveling them before releasing them into the night air. "…I did."

It's official now: you've gone off script and you both know it.

Gojo pulls back, just enough for you to see his face clearly. You think he's going to tease you for your admission, but instead, he studies you, his eyes probing, searching. You don’t know what for, but with no buffer, no infinity between you, it feels almost as if you are laid bare before the hypnotic glow of his eyes.

Try as you might, you cannot even bring yourself to look away. You are charmed, captivated, enchanted by the spell of his eyes. Any hope for escape is gone and the only things that remain are you and the limitless blue.

Something shifts in Gojo’s expression and you wonder, distantly, if he’s found whatever it was he was looking for.

He surges forward, pressing his forehead to yours once more, angling himself, positioning himself, and his mouth, his lips—

They’re barely there. Hovering as close as they possibly can without even touching. You can feel his breath, warm and intoxicating and it’s suddenly so hard to move, to think, to even breathe with the threat of Satoru Gojo imminent and about to swallow you whole.

He could, if he wanted and you both know it, and yet…

“Not even gonna try and deny it?” he asks, and you can practically feel his lips moving with each word he speaks. His tone is amused still, teasing still, but there's something more to it. It's like a secret, a plea even, interwoven into his words and actions, loud and unsubtle in a way that screams Satoru Gojo.

You don't know why he doesn't just say what he wants right now. Maybe he thinks it's more fun to try and be coy about it. Or maybe he thinks if he actually says it, you'll refuse like you always do, because you never think he really means it when he says it.

But right now, you think Gojo might.

You think he might really want to kiss you.

This is your last chance, you think, your lips parting, your response heavy in your mouth. Whatever happens from here on out hinges entirely on what you say next. It’s not just about trying to deny what you said anymore; it's about denying whatever the hell is actually going on between you and Gojo. All this time, you've been turning a blind eye to things, adamant that there's nothing there— that Gojo is just a colleague and nothing more. And despite that, despite everything, he pushed and shoved his way into your heart like it's where he's belonged all along. Those three little words are undeniable proof that there's something between the two of you and it's awfully kind of him to let you try and deny it.

But can you?

"...no."

The realization settles in your chest, heavy yet liberating as you breathe the word into the air. You can’t— you won’t deny it, deny him.

Not any more.

Gojo’s entire body goes still, but then his hands are cupping your face, long fingers splayed across your cheeks. He’s holding you like a treasure, his touch reverent. Gojo presses his forehead to yours once more; his breath caresses you once more and you think that maybe, for the first time in his life, Satoru Gojo knows hesitation, feels it running through his veins as the space between your lips and his grows more and more infinitesimally small.

You like to pretend that you'd never given much thought to how your first kiss with Gojo would go, but you never would have thought that it would be like this— gentle and sweet. But despite that, it feels almost like your chest is going to burst as he fills your lungs, your veins, your entire being.

For just a moment, you think he’s about to pull away, and your body reacts of its own accord, reaching out for him, keeping him close. It’s at this moment that the kiss shifts into something more hungry, more desperate. Gojo’s lips part, his tongue swiping against your lips, begging you to do the same.

You do not deny him.

Eventually, eventually you pull away, dazed and out of breath, but Gojo doesn’t let you go too far, his arms wrapping around you. A silence settles around the two of you as you stand there, bathing in moonlight.

Of course, it doesn’t last for long.

“You’re really down bad for me, huh,” Gojo remarks, his voice infuriatingly smug.

You rip yourself from his grasp... or, at least, you try to. What you manage to do is free yourself enough so that you can look at his face. Naturally he’s beaming, all too pleased by everything that’s going on, his eyes shining brighter than any star in the sky.

The words you normally say, the words you usually say, try to force their way out of your mouth, but you catch them before they do. You’ve decided, you remind yourself, you won’t deny him any more.

“...guess I am,” you answer, as casually as possible, then you add, as a cheeky afterthought, “And what about you?”

The grin on Gojo’s face widens as he leans in and that’s how your second kiss begins.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #jjk x reader #nikuniku fics #i am not joking about how i agonized over this #agonized about the tension #about the pacing the flow #agonized about the tonal shift #i literally wrote and rewrote sentences over and over trying to get them to work out right #another whole writerussy into it work lmao #so god i hope someone likes it #i could have written a more passionate kiss oh well next time #i did not abuse italics this time and thank fucking god lmaoooo #the cross post will be so much easier #infinite loop!verse

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stellamancer · 8 months

Text

choux à la crème — (reader x satoru gojo)

notes: uh. see i have this thing where sometimes i get inspired by objects. or food. that's what happened. sorry, revealing the reader from this fic verse went to the kyoto school. that's because i'm biased myself lmao. i also looked up if there was a beard papa's in dotonbori. and i guess there really is. who woulda thought.

contains: sexual innuendo (licking stuff off fingers, thinking about licking/sucking on fingers)

wc: 1.6k (why is it this long???)

“Oh, hey, hey!”

Gojo’s excited voice reminds you of an hyperactive child, loud and fast. When you think about it, you don’t think there’s really not much of a difference; he's pretty much a gigantic child.

You’d been sent out to Osaka on a mission, and Gojo, for what you can only assume was his own amusement, decided to accompany you. As annoying as it was to have him tag along, his presence made the mission infinitely easier.

Though, you really could have handled it all by yourself.

With the mission all taken care of, Gojo’s taken it upon himself to drag you around Dotonbori like you’re a couple of tourists, eating through the street food the district has to offer. You’d never admit it to him, but you don’t mind it all that much; the food in Osaka is pretty good after all. Then again, as a Kyoto school alum, you might be biased.

You look over to see what it is that’s caught Gojo’s attention and you see him pointing at a Beard Papa’s— a cream puff chain. It's nothing too special; they have locations in Tokyo too, but it's not like you should expect Gojo's indomitable sweet tooth to care.

“We should go get some!” he demands, practically pulling you by the arm toward the storefront. You know when Gojo says ‘we’ he’s really just talking about himself. It’s fine though, you’re not all that hungry after all the other things he’s convinced you to eat.

Then, the warm buttery scent of freshly baked pastries fills your nostrils and you decide that maybe you’ve got room for just one cream puff.

You wait behind Gojo as he puts his order in for some ridiculous number of mini-cream puffs, but when he’s done he turns to you and tilts his head. “What do you want?”

Stunned, you stare at him. You’d fully expected to foot the bill for your own cream puff— he hadn’t covered anything else you’d eaten today so why now all of a sudden?

Sensing your hesitation, he smiles at you, but you can’t help but be suspicious of the random act of generosity. You know he can tell because his expression quickly changes to a pout. “What’s with that face?”

“I can pay for myself,” you say.

The smile’s back now, playful and amused. “I know, but just let me treat you this once, okay?”

You frown. Still not convinced.

“Or, you can just let me order for you. That could be fun! Let’s see…” Gojo whirls around to look at the menu, his expression suddenly devious. As wary as you are concerning Gojo’s intentions here, you know it’s a dangerous play putting your fate in his hands, especially when sweets are involved. “Maybe another two dozen…”

You absolutely cannot eat that many cream puffs. Granted, Gojo probably could eat whatever you don’t, but…

“Okay, okay, I’ll order!” you relent, shooting Gojo a quick glare. As usual, he’s completely unfazed, that stupid smile back on his dumb face. “I’ll get a creme brulee cream puff.”

“Just one?” the kid at the register asks, glancing at Gojo. The sheer size of his order probably conditioned them to think you’d have the same sized appetite.

“Just one,” you echo, confirming the order.

The kid nods and Gojo moves in to pay for everything on his card. You step off to the side and not too long after Gojo joins you, a yellow box filled with his cream puffs in one hand, and a small paper pouch containing yours in the other.

“Here you go!” he says cheerfully, plopping the cream puff into your hand.

You stare down at it, still warm, and then you look at Gojo. His attention is clearly on you, expectant and waiting. “You know you didn’t have to…”

He shrugs, opening the box with his now free hand and tosses one of the cream puffs into his massive mouth. “It’s fine.”

You scowl. “I don’t want to owe you.”

Gojo stops and gapes at you, before saying, sounding completely and utterly scandalized, “Is our friendship really so transactional? I thought you liked me!”

“Shut up!” you hiss. “You know what I mean!”

“Oh… So you do like me! I knew it!”

Gojo’s selective hearing has you seeing red and it takes all your self control to not waste the cream puff he bought you by throwing it at his face. “I didn’t say that!”

“You didn’t not say it.”

“Gojo…” You raise a hand and press your fingers to your temple, hoping to stave off any Gojo induced headaches.

He laughs and says, his voice light. “It’s no big deal, you know, it’s just one cream puff.”

You sigh. He does have a point. Not like he’s breaking the bank over it. “...I guess.” Pause. “Thanks.”

He grins. “You better hurry up and eat that— it tastes best when the sugar on top is still warm.”

You nod and pull the paper back to take a bite. Unlike regular cream puffs, this one is collapsed, the pastry forming something akin to a bowl where all the cream filling sits. Over the top of the cream is a layer of hardened sugar, torched so it’s dark brown and caramelized. Looking at it now, there’s no way you’re going to be able to eat this without making a mess.

“If you’re too full from everything else, I’ll gladly eat it,” Gojo teases, reaching one hand toward your cream puff, his fingers wiggling menacingly like he’s going to steal it.

“Just give me a sec!” you snap, swatting at his hand. Might as well go for it. “Thanks again.”

You shove your face into the cream puff, the sugar top crunching as you bite down. As expected, it gets messy, and even with the paper packaging, you manage to get cream on your fingers. You consider taking a second to clean them off, but now that you’ve taken a bite, the cream puff’s structural integrity is quickly failing. If you don’t finish it fast, you’re going to have a larger mess on your hands.

Literally.

Hurriedly, you shove the rest of the cream puff in your mouth, ignoring how some of the filling smears across your cheek. Once the cream puff is gone, you crumple the wrapping in one hand and inspect the other. The mess isn’t as bad as you thought and you lick the remaining cream from the pads of your fingers. It’s a bit uncouth, but it’s not like Gojo will care.

At least, that’s what you think, but when you look at him, he’s clearly gawking at you through the material of his blindfold, his hand hovering awkwardly near his mouth like he’d just tossed in a cream puff, but hadn’t moved to grab another.

Confused, you tilt your head. “Gojo?”

The sound of your voice seems to startle him out of whatever daze he’s in and reaches toward you, his voice low as he smirks, “Missed some.”

Right. Your cheek. You quickly reach up and, with your thumb, wipe the cream toward your mouth. Your tongue darts out, swiping over your thumb as it laps up the remaining cream. For good measure, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

Gojo’s hand drops to his side, limp. And though you can’t see it, you just know he’s staring again. Why? And why does it look like the tips of his ears are a little pink? Could it be that he’s… blushing?

Why?

“You… okay?” you ask tentatively.

“Yeah!” Gojo replies, and you think his voice actually sounds a little strained. “Totally okay!”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely!” he insists. “In fact, I’m so okay, that I’m going to share some of my cream puffs with you. Aren’t I so nice?”

“Gojo, I don’t actually— mmph!” you start, but he won’t hear any of it. He reaches into his box and shoves a cream puff straight into your mouth. It feels like it nearly explodes on contact, the sweet vanilla flavor coating your entire tongue.

“The cream puffs from here are so good, right?” he asks, his voice louder than usual. He’s not wrong, but you don’t know how he expects you to answer; your mouth is still kind of full.

Once you swallow, you try to speak. “Gojo, really, I—”

“Here! Have another!” he says, stuffing yet another cream puff in your mouth before you can even finish your sentence.

Now, he’s just being ridiculous. You quickly chew at it until it’s small enough for you to gulp down. This time you don’t even think about tasting it. He’s got another one prepped, ready to thrust it in your mouth, but you move out of the way. “Gojo, stop. I don’t want any more.”

His hand goes completely still. Disturbingly still, you realize. Gojo’s always moving, wiggling, fidgeting, as if he’s got too much energy for his stupidly large body to handle. To see him stop moving... It’s weird. It’s almost wrong.

You don’t know what comes over you, especially when you just said you didn’t want any more, but you lean forward and wrap your mouth around the cream puff he’s holding. The corners of your lips brush against his fingers and a strange feeling runs down your spine and straight to the deepest pit of your stomach. You think of trying to swallow the cream puff whole. You think of lingering there, letting your tongue trace the shape of his fingers. You think of—

You pull away from him, refusing to look him in the face as you finish this cream puff. Once you swallow, you say, quietly. “You’re right. They’re really good.”

Gojo is quiet. Oddly so. But then, he laughs, way too loud as he says, his voice still strained. “Told ya so.”

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #jjk x reader #gojo x y/n #nikuniku fics #i bought 4 cream puffs last night #and i ate them all #and now i want more #i want to have an endless supply of cream puffs #having another moment of #did i write gojo right?#i will continue to worry and fret over it for the rest of my life.#infinite loop!verse

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stellamancer · 7 months

Text

(though we may) fall apart — extra scene

notes: unlike the lonely stranger extra scene, this is actually an extra scene. not beta read oops.

wc: around 580

The next morning, you are greeted by Gojo's face—puffy and pouting. It's not hard to see why: his cheek is swollen.

The one that you punched.

"Look what you did!" he wails like a child throwing a fit.

"You deserved it," you say flatly. Admittedly, you do regret it a tiny bit, you did punch him as hard as you could without cursed energy. It's just you didn't seriously think it would hit him.

"My face!" he cries, ignoring you. "My super handsome, ultra good-looking face!"

It is too early for Gojo to be so damn loud. After the day you had yesterday, you’d overslept, meaning no breakfast and no caffeine: you are in no condition to be entertaining Satoru Gojo and his antics right now.

So, you walk past him, ignoring him. If he wants to continue to complain he can do it later after you’ve consumed something and are less likely to attempt making his so-called handsome face symmetrical.

Naturally, he wants to do it now.

“Heyyyy,” he bawls, trailing after you. “Don’t ignore meeeee.”

You keep walking and he keeps wailing.

And wailing.

And—

You finally snap after three straight minutes of sniveling about his beautiful face, about how you need to take responsibility and whirl around to face him. As much as you’d like to punch him, you realize yesterday was a once in a lifetime opportunity: it’s unlikely he’ll let you hit him again. Not anytime soon anyway.

Gojo goes silent the instant you face him, and to your surprise, he gently presses the bottom of an ice cold can of coffee to your forehead. When did he even get that?

“Take it,” he says, all traces of his childish blubbering from seconds before completely gone.

You do not move. He applies more pressure to the can. Not enough to hurt or anything, but enough to be insistent.

“The machine gave me two,” he tells you casually.

“Liar."

Gojo smiles, but he doesn’t acknowledge what you said and continues. “You haven’t had anything this morning right?”

How’d he know? Maybe because you'd been running a bit late. Usually, you’re pretty early. Still, you do not take his offering.

“If you don’t take it, I’ll drop it,” Gojo threatens in a sing-song voice. If he drops it, the can is going to burst, which is no problem for Gojo who can avoid the mess with his stupid infinity, but you…

His grin widens as if he knows what you’re realizing. You feel the can slip a bit against your forehead. He’s serious. He’ll drop it.

You reach up and swipe it from him and Gojo looks far too smug in his victory. Bastard.

Just as you’re about to pop the tab on the can, he asks, “Feeling better?”

Your heart stills in your chest, and your entire body with it as you remember yesterday. The can almost slips from your fingers. He… Gojo… He…. Your head whips up and he’s still smiling, but it’s a little different, a little kinder. There’s a voice in the back of your head that wonders what kind of expression he’s really making behind that blindfold of his.

Without thinking, your arm shifts, the can firm in your grasp as you reach up and try to press it to his swelling cheek. There is the smallest space there, infinity squeezing between the can and his cheek, but it slowly disappears until they touch. Gojo’s expression changes, his lips parting ever so slightly. You wonder if it feels nice.

“...what about you?” you ask, your voice soft.

Gojo’s only answer is that dumb grin of his.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #jjk x reader #nikuniku fics #should i really be putting this in the tag.....#someone's gonna get me i feel like lmao #infinite loop!verse

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stellamancer · 9 months

Text

lip smackless (reader x satoru gojo)

notes: this is a repost of a fic i posted yesterday because i was a fool an accidentally deleted it. inspired by the fact i forgot my chapstick at home yesterday and had to buy a new one. gojo + reader are both teachers/colleagues and after thinking about it, the pairing is not really implied since i have that one section in the fic lmao.

wc: 1.3k

"Dammit..." you hiss, pawing around in your bag for your chapstick. Desperately, you search, even though you know it's useless at this point; you distinctly remember taking it out of your bag yesterday because you couldn't find one in your apartment.

You consider stopping by a convenience store to buy one real quick, but in the end you decide not to. The closest one is just a little out of the way and since you overslept a little you're going you'll just barely make it to the school on time. You refuse to be late, like a certain someone that you know, so you'll just have to do without. It'll be fine.

At least that's what you think until lunch time. Your lips are dry and irritated enough to be distracting. The first chance you get, you make a beeline to Shoko's office. Surely, she has some lip balm, or at the very least something you can use to soothe your lips.

When you get there, you find you're not the only one who's come to seek her out. Gojo is here too, yapping his mouth off like he always does, seemingly unaware of the completely disinterested look on Shoko's face. Poor thing. Her eyes light up when you walk in the door though, obviously grateful for a reason to stop pretending to pay attention to Gojo.

"Hey," she greets you with a cool smile. "What's up?"

Gojo turns his head, grinning widely when he 'sees' you through that blindfold of his. Should you ignore him? You decide against it and raise your hand in greeting before directing your attention to Shoko. “Do you have any lip balm?”

“Not lip balm, but…” she reaches into her bag and pulls out a shiny tube that you recognize as her favorite lipstick. It’s a pretty color that looks absolutely lovely on Shoko. “I have this.”

“Ah…” you grimace a little. “I don’t think that’ll… help.”

She shakes her head in agreement and you groan. You could maybe spend your lunch running to a convenience store or maybe ask Kugisaki… Though admittedly, you’re a bit worried she might rib you a little for it.

“If it’s lip balm you need, I have some!”

You and Shoko look at Gojo. It’s obvious by the way her expression shifts that she’s not surprised, and honestly, you aren’t either. You’re intentionally avoiding looking at Gojo’s lips right now because you know that’s what he wants, but you know that they always look soft and perfectly moisturized.

“Uh, actually, Gojo, it’s fine, I—” You can go down to the nearest convenience store. You can go ask Kugisaki. You absolutely do not need to—

He strides over to you and pulls a small black tube out of his pocket, holding it out to you in offering. You look down at it, but remain still. You don’t want it.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he tells you casually, and you swear that his voice drops an octave, but you ignore it.

“Really, Gojo, I—”

“If you don’t take it, I’ll put it on you myself~” he threatens you in a sing-song voice. If it were any other person, it would be an empty threat, but you know Gojo and, worse than that, you know that not only can he do it, he most definitely will.

Your hand whips out and swipes the lip balm right out of Gojo’s open palm. His smirks at you, earning him a narrow eyed glare.

“Could you guys not flirt in my office?” Shoko asks dryly from behind Gojo.

“We are not flirting,” you insist. She gives you a pointed look that makes it very clear that she doesn’t believe you. You groan in clear and loud exasperation. No one ever does. “Fine. We’re going. I’ll see you later, Shoko.”

Despite her words, she looks somewhat amused when you stalk out of the office, grumbling. Gojo trails after you, stopping when you pause in the hallway a little ways away from Shoko’s office.

“Are you seriously going to follow me?” you grouse.

“Yes!” he chirps. “I always make good on my threats, you know?”

Oh yes, yes, he does. You sigh. Gojo definitely isn’t going to let you out of his sight until he sees you use the damn thing. You’d like to eat lunch in peace so you might as well get it done and over with now.

Gojo’s chapstick is heavy in your hand. The tube itself is made of a black matte metal and you have absolutely no doubt in your mind that it’s expensive. The most you ever spent on chapstick is five hundred yen and that’s if you really feel like splurging. And in your opinion, there’s nothing wrong with a one hundred yen tube of chapstick. This thing must have cost at least fifty times that.

You start to unscrew the cap when a thought in the back of your mind rushes to the front, desperate to make itself known. This is Gojo’s lip balm. If you use it would that count as an indirect kiss? Your hand stills as your brain produces a mental image of you and Gojo: his arms wound around you, his face close, breath warm and sweet in your—

You banish the thought from your mind.

This is the kind of dumb thing that a teenager would worry about and you are very, very much an adult. And adults don’t think of ridiculous things like indirect kisses unless they’re maybe the lead in some kind of romance manga.

Which you most definitely are not.

You open the tube, almost furiously, like you have something to prove and bring the chapstick to your lips. Somehow, you expected whatever lip balm Gojo uses to smell cloyingly sweet, like artificial cake batter or something like that. While, the scent is sweet, it’s not overpowering like some of the chapsticks you remember using as a child (and some of the ones you’ve bought as an adult). Once you’re done smelling it, you glide it over your lips, the relief it gives you coming almost instantly.

(Satoru watches you, his gaze feeling like it’s straining through the blindfold. His eyes are tracing the movement of his lip balm over your lips.

For one wild moment, he pictures his fingers there instead, feeling the softness, the plushness of your lips as he smears the lip balm all over.

You purse your lips together, as if using them to rub the balm in before using them to make the softest popping sound. Something about it makes Satoru’s mouth go bone dry.)

“Thanks, Gojo,” you say, hoping you actually sound earnest because you really do mean it. You screw the cap back onto his lip balm and hold it out to him to return it.

“Keep it,” he tells you, his voice oddly husky.

Your eyes go wide. No. No, no, no. You cannot keep it, not when it (probably) costs a ton. You shake your head. “No, take it back. I can just—”

Gojo grins at you, amused like he always is. Part of you thinks he’s being genuinely generous, another part thinks that this has to be some kind of trick or bargain on his part. “It’s fine. You need one anyway, right?”

He’s right, but you can just get one from the convenience store on your way home or something. You don't need his. “But, Gojo—”

“Just keep it,” he insists. “Save yourself a trip to the convenience store.”

Gojo shoves his hands into his pockets and you feel like that’s his way of telling you that he’s not taking the lip balm back— that he’s giving it to you.

“I—” you start, trying to find some reason for him to take it back.

“You can’t make me take it if I don’t want to, you know,” he tells you with a snicker.

Right. Even if you threw it at him he could just put his infinity up, couldn’t he? You sigh in resignation. “...fine. Thanks. I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he says, waving his hand nonchalantly as he walks off. Once he’s gone you reach into your pocket for your phone to look up how much the lip balm he gave you costs and your jaw almost drops.

You spend every day for the next week buying Gojo lunch.

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #nikuniku fics #i am so full of shame that i have to repost this augh #infinite loop!verse

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stellamancer · 4 months

Text

gifts and promises (satoru gojo x reader)

notes: this is actually the full version of a series of blurbs i left on @shotorus's decotree for Christmas that i actually did not finish initially. uh. what else to say. i'll try and write bkg after i wake from a nap lmao. i hope everyone who celebrates is having a nice christmas!

wc: 1.2k

contains: gender neutral reader, mentions of food, eating and feeding other people, finger sucking

"Ta-da!" Gojo exclaims, holding up the cake box in his hand like it's treasure.

You stare at him blankly. "I thought you were bringing fried chicken."

"I said I was bringing Christmas food. So I got a cake."

You shake your head. To be honest, you’re not surprised, but you are a little disappointed. "No, Christmas food is chicken. you know, from KFC."

Gojo pouts as he sets down the cake box and opens it up. It’s a Christmas cake through and through— covered in whipped pure white topping with plump, red strawberries adorning the top. Nestled amongst the cream and berries is a little Santa shaped cookie with a little chocolate placard with the words ‘Merry Christmas’ written across it in elegant letters. You’ve seen this cake before— in the display case of one of the most expensive patisseries in Tokyo. Leave it to Gojo to buy an expensive Christmas cake. . "So you don't want any?"

"It's not that,” you say, watching as he grabs a fork and only a fork, which makes his intentions clear in your eyes. “It's that you're bad at sharing cake."

"Not true. I plan to share it with you!"

"Do you?"

He grins and suddenly you realize that you might have mistaken his intentions entirely. This is not good.

"Come on," Gojo nearly sings, carelessly scooping some cake with the fork and presenting it to you. "Say 'ah~'"

You eye it warily, the bite of cake that he's got just for you sitting daintily on the prongs. your gaze shifts toward Gojo and you look him dead in the eye as you respond. "No."

If that were enough to deter him then you'd never ask Santa for a gift ever again.

But it's not.

He merely pushes the fork closer to you, still grinning and you watch as some of the whipped topping oozes down the side of the bite. Wait too long and it'll make a mess.

It's only one bite, so you suppose you'll swallow your pride along with the cake and call it a gift for the most annoying man on earth.

You lean forward and take the bite, making sure to look as slovenly as possible. It doesn't matter; Gojo is elated.

Wanting to stifle the gloating that's sure to come, you swipe one of the strawberries from the top of the cake and nearly shove it into his mouth, pressing the tip to his lips.

"Your turn," you hiss.

The fork, still in Gojo's grasp, slips between his fingers and clatters onto the table. The room goes completely silent, but you barely notice as Gojo's gaze is trained on you, his speechlessness a gift to the universe.

It's at this moment that you realize the gravity of what you're doing— what you’ve done. You'd acted without thinking, only wanting to shut him up but to him and the world at large, it looks like you're feeding him too.

Alarmed, you try to pull your hand back, but his fingers wrap tightly around your wrist as he takes the strawberry from you, lips brushing against your fingertips, his eyes still fixed on you.

This is too much.

Your brain goes offline and instinct automatically takes over— instinct being to just shove your fingers in his mouth.

It does not make things any better.

Gojo moans around your fingers and you are overcome with the intense and violent desire to take the rest of the cake and shove it in his face.

You don't.

Instead, you rip your hand from his grasp, and, without a word, stomp off to the bathroom to wash his icky germs off your hands. You scrub and scrub but you can't seem to rid yourself of the feeling of his tongue brushing against the pads of your fingers.

This is terrible, absolutely terrible.

Finally, you give up and exit the bathroom, only to find one Satoru Gojo waiting outside. When your eyes meet, he grins, triumphant.

"Did you have to..." you trail off; you don’t want to say it aloud.

"No, but I thought it'd be fun," he answers with a cheeky grin.

"I hope you know that I hate you."

"You don't mean that," Gojo laughs.

"Oh, but I do."

It's obvious Gojo doesn't believe you. That's fine. You don't care. You don't need him to.

You start to walk past him when he speaks up again, but this time his voice is oddly soft. "Hey, wait."

"What?" you glance back at him and for once, he's not looking at you, but at the ceiling. It’s odd; he looks almost shy in a boyish sort of way. It’s almost kind of… "What is it?"

Gojo's hands reach into his pockets and they shift around before pulling out a small package that fits in the palm of his hand. your eyes widen. it looks like—

"...is that for me?" you ask dumbly.

"Who else would it be for?" Gojo responds and you're not sure if he sounds teasing or indignant.

You stare at him. "I... uh... but I didn't..."

He shrugs, and grins, looking back to normal. "Don't worry about it. Just bought it on a whim."

Something in you is doubtful. You don’t think about it. Gingerly, you take the gift from Gojo and he stares at you, looking expectant. Suppose it’s only correct to open it here in front of him. You tear apart the wrapping paper and beneath is what looks like a vacuum packed black disc.

“...uh thanks?” What the hell did he even give you?

Gojo laughs and you think he realizes your confusion. Possibly even revels in it. He lifts a hand and draws a line in the air with his finger— he’s manipulating his cursed energy to cut the packing around the black disc. It puffs up immediately and you can’t help but stare. It looks less like a ball and more like a palm sized Satoru Gojo plush ball.

“What the hell is this?”

“It’s a stress ball.” Gojo explains. “Thought you might need one since you’re always so agitated.”

A sudden violent urge pulses through you and reflexively you squeeze tightly at the ball in your hand. Obviously pleased, Gojo grins.

“See! You’re using it already! I knew it would be a good gift!”

As much as you want to hurl the ball right at his stupid face, you restrain yourself. No matter who or what it is, it’s not polite to throw someone’s present back at them. Especially since you know he didn’t just buy this on a whim.

Through gritted teeth, you say, “Well, thanks…”

And then your expression shifts, schooling itself into something more somber when you realize. “...I don’t have anything for you, though.”

Gojo tilts his head and shrugs. “It’s fine. I don’t need anything.”

You frown. There’s little doubt in your mind that Gojo could have a need for anything, when it feels like he has the entire world at his fingertips, but—

“But,” he says slowly. “If you’re asking about what I might want, then just promise to get me something next year.”

There is something about the sound of his voice, a grander meaning interwoven in the promise he’s asking you to make. He’s asking you about next year, about the future, when you live a life where you cannot even promise tomorrow. Gojo knows that, and yet he’s asking, he’s wanting and—

“...I guess I can get you something,” you mumble softly.

He laughs and you wonder if he thinks that the promise is a gift in its own way. “Okay, deal.”

yes, gojo gave you a fuwakororin of himself. fucking loser.

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #nikuniku fics #infinite loop!verse

115 notes · View notes

stellamancer · 11 months

Text

pairing: fem!reader x merman!satoru gojo

summary: you were excited to return home for the summer, but all that excitement is quickly thrown out the window and you nearly resign yourself to a quiet and lonely summer.

the insufferable merman you rescued, however, has other plans.

contents: degrees of social anxiety from the reader, fem!reader (no pronouns used, reader is referred to as physically smaller than gojo)

notes: uh. this was written for the teahouse mermay collab! but, uh, gonna probably spend the summer writing this because somehow plot happened. will happen. this work will end up being a roommates to friends to maybe lovers fic so please look forward to it. uh. not sure what else to say. i usually don’t post multi-part fics to tumblr, but since i don’t expect this fic to get too long i figured it would be okay this time around lmao. i expect to eat my words. anyway this fic can also be found on ao3!

word count: 4.3k

masterlist

It’s the first time you’ve been home in a while, and honestly speaking, you don’t know how you feel about it.

At first, you were excited. As much as you enjoyed city life in Tokyo, you still missed your little seaside hometown. It was your parents’ idea to come home to visit, not so much because they missed you too, but because they wanted you to watch the house while they went on a summer long trek across Europe. As luck would have it, the time of their departure coincided with the expiration of your apartment’s lease. With no intent on renewing it, you figured you might as well return home for the summer and save a little bit on rent before moving into your new place.

Once your plans were settled, you’d texted your best friend, Minori, to let her know you were coming back, but… there was something a little off about her response. It’s not like you were expecting her to drop everything at the news of your homecoming, but you thought she’d at least be a little more excited. It did bother you a bit, but you merely chalked it up to being absolutely horrendous about keeping in touch while you were away. You’re almost positive that once you see each other it’ll be like you never even left.

Besides, if she really felt that awkward about seeing you, then she wouldn’t have agreed to hang out tomorrow.

Nor would she have forgotten to mention that there was a big hangout thing that was happening at the beach tonight.

Probably anyway.

It’d been one of your old high school classmates Kyohei Shinomiya who had mentioned the beach thing. You’d run into him working at the grocery store and while you really wouldn’t have considered Shinomiya a close friend, you were acquainted enough to chat amicably as he rang up your things. Most people you’d run into upon your return had asked about your life in Tokyo, but Shinomiya was oddly excited to hear about it. You’d gotten the feeling that not much had changed in your absence— but was the city really all that interesting? Shinomiya looked almost disappointed when all your things were bagged up, his face twisted almost as if he was debating something serious. Just as you were about to walk out the door he spoke up, and you realized that was what he’d been contemplating on all along.

“Are you gonna be at the hangout tonight?”

You’d tilted your head in confusion. “Hangout?”

“Yeah! On the beach at sunset!” He’d answered, his enthusiasm renewed. “If… if you’re not doing anything, then you should totally come by! Everyone from high school will be there!”

You’d immediately thought of Minori. She hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort. Had it slipped her mind? Or maybe she forgot? Either way, with no one waiting for you at home, and no other plans to speak of, your night was woefully free.

So, of course you showed up.

Shinomiya hadn’t been kidding when he said that everyone from high school would be here. You recognize basically every person on some level— not just people in your own year, but upperclassmen and underclassmen as well. Some of them recognize you too, a few of them even stop to chat a little, politely asking where you’ve been and what you’ve been up to, just like everyone else. Once you’ve made a lap around the group, you awkwardly park yourself near the barbeque where one of the upperclassmen is grilling skewers for everyone, unsure of where else to go.

Of all the people you’ve seen, Minori is not among them. Is it possible that maybe she wasn’t invited? You’ve seen some of her other friends here, though, so it wouldn’t make sense to leave her out. You start to reach for your phone to message her to ask if she knows, if she’s coming. Given how Shinomiya invited you, in the odd case she didn’t know, it probably wouldn’t be a problem if she showed up.

Probably.

Just as you start typing, you hear someone nearby yell. “About time you showed up! You’re late!”

You happen to look up to see who this latecomer is and it’s… Minori. But she’s not alone; at her side is someone else you recognize instantly: Hayato Tsuji. It’s been a while since you last saw him, but your heart stutters at the sight, your body remembering the feelings you harbored for him in your high school years. He’s grown even more handsome now; his features sharper and more mature now than when you were teenagers. Something about the two of them together nags at your mind, but you push the thought to the side, more relieved to see your friend here than anything.

Minori’s gaze moves from the person who called out to her, scanning the area before finally landing on you. There’s no missing the way her eyes widen in clear and obvious surprise, making it apparent that not telling you about this whole thing was a conscious choice on her part.

Still, she makes her way over to you, smiling sheepishly. her eyes now avoiding yours. “Hey! Didn’t expect to see you here."

"Shinomiya invited me," you explain almost flatly.

Minori hums as if you've said something very interesting. "Is that so…?"

"Yeah?"

"I thought you'd be doing something with your parents tonight," she offers, the reason of why she didn't tell you about this hangout threaded between her words.

"No, they left this morning."

"Oh."

You could have sworn you told her that, but maybe she got the day wrong or something. It’s no big deal; Minori was probably just trying to be considerate since it’s been a while since you’ve seen your parents, but still something feels… off. It’s fine. A little awkwardness is to be expected, you tell yourself.

“Minori!” Someone else calls and she whips her head around toward the voice to see who it is. You recognize it as one of her other friends, waving wildly to get her attention. Minori glances back at you, looking a little unsure.

“It’s fine,” you say, smiling, though it feels hollow. “We can catch up later. We’re hanging out tomorrow, aren’t we?”

She stares at you, the hesitation still flickering in her eyes before nodding. “Yeah.”

You wave her off as she heads toward the person calling her and you don’t miss how her expression looks considerably lighter as she walks off. Sighing, you turn back to the barbeque, thinking to busy yourself with some food. Will it be like that tomorrow? Awkward? Weird?

You shake your head. It’ll be fine.

“Skewer?” the upperclassman manning the grill offers you one, and though you thought to occupy your anxious hands by eating you find that you actually don’t feel all that hungry.

“No thanks,” you tell him, smiling apologetically. He doesn’t seem to take any offense, though, and nods. You move away from the barbeque so that you’re not in the way of anyone who might actually want to eat, but once again you’re not sure where to go. You feel like finding Minori again is out of the question, the earlier weirdness repelling you. Maybe Shinomiya then?

You make your way around and spot Shinomiya joking with some underclassmen, laughing jovially. Should you approach? You don’t want to interrupt anything though, so you lurk off to the side, teetering back and forth on your feet. Maybe you can come back later when there’s a lull in the conversation or something.

The only other person you can think of seeking out is… Hayato. Your heart skips a beat at the thought. You can’t say you’re friends but you’d talked a few times in high school, even worked on a few group projects together. It wouldn’t be all that weird to say hi, would it?

You look around again, your eyes straining to pick him out in the crowd. While you look, your thoughts get ahead of you. He was just a high school crush, but wouldn’t it just be something, if you guys ended up talking and it just… picked up from there? Reconnecting with something akin to an old flame and things developing into something more over the course of one fateful summer… You’re sure you’ve read a story like that somewhere before and the sheer possibility of fiction becoming reality makes your heartbeat accelerate in your chest.

When you find Hayato, your entire body goes still, nerves seizing control of your motor functions. It's fine, it's cool, you try to tell yourself. You are just saying hi. You can do that. You can say hi.

And if it goes beyond that… you’ll figure it out later.

You take a deep breath and take a step forward toward Hayato, then another, then… You stop short— breath catching in your chest when you notice, when you see.

There's someone standing next to Hayato, leaning intimately into him while his arm slung snuggly over their shoulder. You know them— recognize them, because there's no way you wouldn't. There's no way you wouldn't recognize your best friend.

It shouldn't surprise you, it really shouldn't . After all, they showed up here together, you saw them show up together and yet…

You feel absolutely gutted. Questions race through your mind. How long has Minori liked Hayato? Why didn’t she tell you? Are they dating already? For how long? Why didn’t she tell you?

Why didn’t she tell you?

Minori says something to whoever she’s talking to and laughs. Hayato leans his head down to whisper something in her ear and she blushes and swats at him, embarrassed, but still with a fond smile plastered to her face. You feel like you’re a whole world away— an outsider peering in. The contents of your stomach are flipping like they’re competing in the Olympics and you realize that you’re very, very glad you didn’t accept that skewer.

Eventually, you turn away, even though you really just want to walk over there and find out for yourself what exactly is going on. The last thing you want is to start a scene though. You can just ask Minori what’s going on tomorrow; find out if this is why she’s been acting weird. She knew you had a crush on Hayato, and even though he’s still really handsome now, that was in high school. If they're dating now, it’s not like you’d hold it against her.

You start to walk off, but you bump into someone instead.

“Oh hey!”

It’s Shinomiya.

You look at him and catch his expression shift, from a smile to something of a concerned frown.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Oh, uh.” Your shock must show on your face. You try to smile, but it feels far too strained to be convincing. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

He doesn’t believe you.

“I’m, uh… gonna… go over there.” You feel so awkward that you want to disintegrate.

Shinomiya’s mouth opens slightly, brows furrowed, looking like he’s struggling to say something. “...do you want me to come with?”

You laugh in an attempt to alleviate his concern, but the sound is mechanical, fake. “Nah, I’m fine.”

Shinomiya doesn’t seem convinced, his mouth set in a frown. His expression is contemplative again, like it was when you were at the store. You take a step back, away from him and wave him off a little.

“Really,” you say, before whatever he’s thinking about just spews out of his mouth. “Just… gonna take a little walk. The... smoke from the barbeque is getting to me.”

It sounds like an excuse, but it seems reasonable enough you think. Shinomiya still seems doubtful, but he doesn’t press the issue as you take another step away from him. You give him one more smile, this one feeling a little more natural, to reassure him that you’re fine.

Because you are.

No one else seems to notice as you slip away from the group, heading toward the shoreline. The tide ebbs back and forth, the water coming up to gently lap at the soles of your shoes. You stare out at the sea, the sun nearly set over the horizon, dyeing the sky in oranges and purples. Some of the people at the hangout are probably setting up a bonfire or two so that the get together can continue into the night. You could probably go help out to keep your hands busy, but you don’t particularly feel like it.

Instead, you continue walking down the beach, further away from the chatter of all the people you grew up with, their conversations sounding more and more like a foreign language with each step. Even when you were younger, when you still lived here, you could never slot yourself perfectly among your peers. Minori was the only one who really felt like a friend to you, so her silence weighs heavy on your heart. If you had done a better job at keeping in touch with her, then would she have been more forthcoming about what was going on in her life? At the same time, it’s not like she was any better at keeping in contact with you, but…

You sigh. You’ll talk to her tomorrow. There’s no need to keep mulling over it now.

The sun has completely set now and you realize you’ve actually walked quite a distance from the hangout spot on the beach; you can’t even see anyone anymore. In fact, you’re actually probably only a few minutes from your parent’s house now, their home almost practically on the beach itself. You’re just better off going home, rather than going back. It does feel a little bit bad to have left without saying anything though, so you pull out your phone and send off a quick message to Shinomiya apologizing for leaving without saying anything and thanking him for inviting you in the first place.

You turn, with the intent of heading home, but something on the beach catches your eye.

Something unnaturally shiny.

People are generally pretty good about picking up their trash when they’re on the beach; it's a rule, after all. Sometimes, though, there are some people who forget, or just don’t care. As you approach, you figure whoever left this mound of garbage on the shore is part of the latter group, simply not caring enough to pick up after themselves.

But someone cared enough to cover it up in sand and seaweed.

You lean over, prepared to dig out whatever can and other trash has been buried when you notice, when you see.

It’s not a beer can that’s half buried here.

It’s some kind of fish and it’s huge.

You’ve heard of the very, very rare instances of beached whales, but this thing has scales, shiny, pretty iridescent scales that remind you of opals and you wonder distantly if there’s a fish this big, this pretty, really out there. More than that, though, you wonder how in the world it ended up on the beach like this. When you’ve finally cleared everything away, you realize that this thing isn’t a fish.

It’s a person.

Or half of one at least.

You gawk at the sight, your eyes traveling down the length of their body. From the waist down, they’re all fish, tail and fins and all, but from the waist up they look like a man, with arms, and a torso and a human head.

Merman.

The word echoes in your mind over and over. You shake your head. This has to be a dream. There’s no way. Merpeople aren’t real. If they were, surely there’d be some kind of record or something of them.

You raise a trembling hand, to confirm what you see with your own two eyes. Very, very quietly, you murmur an apology as your fingers reach out, brushing against this being’s waist, where their human skin meets their fish-like scales. Maybe it’s some kind of… swimsuit or something. You’ve seen stuff like that on TV. If that’s the case there should be some kind of waistband or something, but you find none. The junction between their human half and fish half is completely seamless.

The merman is real.

You gasp softly and look around. It’s only the two of you on the beach right now. What do you do? Should you just leave him here? In a few hours the tide will be high enough to pull the merman back into the water, but… what if someone comes between now and then? If they realize it’s a merman, there’s no guarantee that they’ll let him return to the sea. He could be sold off as a research subject or some kind of exotic pet. The thought disgusts you. Shouldn’t you put him back then? Make sure that he returns to where he belongs? He seems to be unconscious though, but surely he can breathe underwater while sleeping, right? You have absolutely no idea how it works.

The merman groans beneath you and you look back at him. His face is scrunched up like he’s in some kind of pain. Is he hurt, maybe? Is that how he ended up on the beach? Using your phone’s flashlight, you check his body, trying to find some kind of injury, but you don’t find anything. Could he be sick or something then?

You reach up toward his head, brushing some of the snow white hair sticking to his forehead out of the way before you press the back of your hand to his skin. It’s slightly warm to the touch, so he probably doesn’t have a fever.

Wait. Can merfolk even get fevers?

Is he maybe having a bad dream then? Or is he uncomfortable? You don’t know. You could try to wake him up, but if he’s in pain wouldn’t that make it worse?

The panic is starting to settle in your nerves. What do you do? You've never encountered anything like this before. Do you attend to him as if he were an animal? Or as if he were human? You start to reach for your phone to call someone for help, for advice but—

Who could you possibly call?

Your parents are on an airplane right now, hundreds of kilometers in the air and out of reach. You couldn’t possibly bother Shinomiya with this and Minori— The image of her laughing amongst her other friends, Hayato snuggling up next to her flashes in your mind, sudden and almost disorienting. Something ugly and frustrating wells up in your stomach at the thought but you do your best to dismiss it.

You can’t bother her with this either.

You’re all you’ve got right now.

With that thought in mind, you force yourself to take a deep, deep breath. Before you can do anything else, you need to calm down. Once the anxiety has dislodged itself from your chest, you go over the options once more. You can’t leave him here because someone else with far worse intentions than you might find him. You can’t toss him back in the ocean because there’s no guarantee that he’ll be okay if you do that. Then what else can you do?

Take him somewhere else? You glance down at the merman; his body is longer than you are tall and you’re sure that he probably weighs a ton. You wouldn’t be able to take him very far on your own, so if you take him somewhere it has to be close.

A lightbulb goes off in your head. It seems kind of crazy, but you could take him home; a year or two ago your parents renovated the bathroom so now the tub is disgustingly huge. You think it’s big enough to house this monster of a merman until you can ensure that you can return him to the sea without the fear that he might get eaten by a shark or something.

Now the question is… how do you transport him? If you had a wheelbarrow or some kind of cart then you could put him in it and just wheel him to your parents house, but…

A particularly large wave crashes against the beach and another lightbulb goes off. Your father has a really big longboard he used to use when he was a teen. Maybe you could roll the merman onto it and pull it kind of like a sled?

The idea sounds absolutely insane, but you can’t think of anything else. If it doesn’t work… Well, you’ll figure it out later.

“I’ll be right back,” you tell the sleeping merman before bolting off toward your parents’ house. You get there in almost no time flat and easily locate the longboard, tucked away in a storage room. The board’s leg rope probably won’t be able to support the merman’s weight so you grab some regular rope your father has in the storage and wedge it in with the leg rope, using it to secure the rope to the board. When you’re satisfied with it, you dash back to the beach.

The merman is luckily where you left him, unconscious and undisturbed. You toss the longboard onto the sand next to him, shoving it as close to him as you can before bending over and rolling him face up onto the board, taking great care to make sure his entire tail is on.

Like this you’re able to get a better look at his face and— he’s handsome, breathtakingly so. The sharpness of his jaw, the angle of his nose, the width of his shoulders, his collarbone, the sight of them all assembled together like this ups your pulse a bit.

You’re getting distracted.

With the merman in place, you grab the rope and start to tug your makeshift sled toward your parents’ house but, god, he’s heavy. You don’t get very far before you stop to take a break, your arms and shoulders screaming. A different tactic would probably be better. You move to the other end of the board and bend down, gripping both sides of the long board as you push.

This method works much, much better until you get to the house itself. You knew the board would only get you so far, but from here on out you’ll have to carry him. There’s no way a bridal carry will work, so you brace yourself, and after a fair bit of struggling you manage to sling this massive merman over your back.

Each step toward the bathroom is absolute agony and you’re so damn grateful that the house is only a single story. It feels like hours have passed when you finally get to the tub. You rip off the cover and toss it haphazardly to the side, but now you have a new problem: how do you get him in there like this?

You could attempt to shrug him in, but his weight combined with the fact you can’t see might result in him accidentally hitting his head on the wall or something. That wouldn’t be good. Instead, you step into the tub, nearly slipping as you step over the wall of it, but luckily you manage to keep yourself from falling. Then, slowly, you free one of your hands gripping the merman’s body to reach down and tuck his tail into the tub.

He weighs too much for your one hand to handle and this time you lose your balance.

Both you and the merman tumble backwards into the tub. You manage to angle your legs out of the way of the faucet and land against the merman’s body with a thud, the hand that was holding onto him twisted into an uncomfortable angle. Quickly, you roll around to make sure he didn’t didn’t get hurt or hit his head against anything.

Miraculously, he seems perfectly fine— as if you had gently lowered him into the bathtub.

You breathe out a heavy sigh; it feels like you just ran a marathon, but you’re not quite done yet. As much as you’d like to leave it where it is, you pull yourself up to retrieve your father’s longboard from outside. Leaving it could possibly lead to questions from the neighbors and the last thing you want to deal with is gossiping aunties.

Especially with a merman under your roof.

You drag yourself back to the bathroom after you’ve put the longboard away and he’s still asleep, grimacing a little, but still asleep. It’s absolutely wild to you that he hasn’t woken up at all. You wonder if you should fill the tub with some water. Would that make him more comfortable?

You reach over and start the faucet, making sure to lower the temperature. As the tub fills itself, you feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you, and you slump down next to the tub. Carrying the merman home really, really took a toll on you. Your eyelids feel heavy and you think it should be fine to close them.

Just for a minute or two.

It feels like the second your eyes flutter shut, they pop open again, your whole body awakening with a start. Your thoughts are all jumbled up. Why are you in the bathroom? Did you actually fall asleep here? Wasn’t the water running? Thank god your parents bought one of those super fancy bathtubs that regulates the amount of water in the tub. Surely the merman wouldn’t mind if the water overflowed but—

Right. The merman!

You sit up straight and turn your head toward the merman and sure enough he is still there. He wasn’t just some crazy dream you concocted; he’s real and, more than that, he’s awake.

He watches you, his lips curved up into an amused smile that reaches his eyes— bluer than the sunshine on the sea. Your heart hammers wildly in the cage of your chest as you rediscover, all over again, how supernaturally stunning this being you’ve brought into your house is. He tilts his head, his grin widening almost impossibly as he speaks, his voice a melodic timbre that you would almost swear resonates with your very soul.

“Well, good morning.”

next chapter →

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojou x reader #satoru gojou x you #jjk x reader #nikuniku fics #not sure what else to tag this as always tags are hard #reader is very anxious and emotional i think but #it will get better for them!!#sots fic tag

279 notes · View notes

stellamancer · 10 months

Text

pairing: fem!reader x merman!satoru gojo

contents: more varying levels of anxiety from the reader, mentions of food and eating, satoru gojo is an absolute menace

notes: part ii! um, got a little delayed because i wanted to write a kiss scene... and also because i was fretting over characterization, over reader’s characteriztion, over gojo’s... he’s really hard to write i think. nuances, you know? hoping i did a good job. also somehow this chapter is?? longer?? than the last?? i’m surprised tbh. anyway, please enjoy.

word count: 5.5k (who the hell am i???)

previous chapter || masterlist

You think you might have made a really, really big mistake.

Last night, it didn't seem like a mistake, rather, it seemed like the right thing to do. Who knows who could have found him? What they would have with him? To him? It was better to have brought the merman home than to leave him to an uncertain and possibly cruel fate. You did the right thing; you were certain of it.

At least, you were until you woke up, greeted by the merman's smooth voice and his blue, blue eyes. Ever since then, it’s just been one thing after another with him.

Don't you know that merfolk need the water to be at a specific temperature?

Don't you know that the water needs to be at a certain salinity level?

Don't you know that thing you're keeping him in is far too small?

It's only been for a couple of hours, but you're already completely exhausted trying to keep up and accommodate his needs. To be honest, it's actually kind of overwhelming and you can't help but wonder if this is what it's like for people who adopt animals just because they think they're cute or something.

Not that you would call the merman cute.

Especially not after he’s spent all morning basically mocking you for not knowing anything about merfolk. You didn’t even know they were real until last night, so how could you possibly know the optimal ambient water temperature for a merperson? But you're trying, and hopefully that counts for something. Which is why you're standing in the doorway of your bathroom, holding a platter with a single, whole, raw mackerel on it, its dead eyes boring into your very soul.

Originally, you were going to grill the mackerel in question and have it for breakfast, but you’ve been so caught up in doing this and that for the merman that you haven’t had the time to eat, much less cook. It’s fine. You and Minori planned to meet up at that cafe off the beach that she likes, so you can just eat there even if you think their food sacrifices flavor for the sake of looking disgustingly photogenic.

Speaking of that, you should probably start getting ready soon. You’re supposed to meet up in a little over an hour, and you feel a little gross, still in the clothes you wore last night, plus you have no doubt that you absolutely need a shower, but before you can do any of that, you need to feed the merman.

His gaze zeroes in on the platter in your hands, realizing you heard him earlier (as if you couldn't— he's so very loud). He seems to perk up at the prospect of eating, but it doesn't last long as a frown settles across his features. You gulp. It feels like you're in for yet another merfolk lesson.

Finally, he asks, "Is that supposed to be… food?"

You nod slowly.

"For me?"

You nod again.

"I can't eat that."

"Wh-why not? What's wrong with it?" You almost demand. In hindsight, you should have asked, especially since Mr. Merman's seemed eager to point out every misstep you've made so far. You were so sure that the mackerel would have been acceptable that you didn't even bother. It makes sense for a merman to eat fish right? What else would he eat? Seaweed? Is he maybe vegan?

"It's dead," he tells you and though his tone is plain, you can see the amusement dancing in those beautiful blue eyes of his. "Fish are best live— squirming as you bite into them, their blood squirting—"

"Okay!" You squeak, interrupting his rather grotesque description. It’s way too early for any kind of gory stuff. "Okay! Got it!"

Well, that settles that; he’s definitely not vegan.

He grins, clearly finding enjoyment in your discomfort, and you try to tell yourself, again, that you did the right thing. You're trying your best, but the fact that it doesn't seem to be amounting to anything is frustrating. The merman's constant jabs and jeers at you and your efforts certainly aren't helping.

Neither is the distinct feeling of intense hanger that's starting to claw at you.

Maybe you should have a snack before you meet up with Minori.

The merman tilts his head, and you think maybe he's trying to look innocent, his eyes big and wet, his lips barely puckered. But the mischievous look in his eyes betrays him, making it clear that his aim is just to continue messing with you. "Oh, but—"

"Unfortunately," you interject again, exasperation seeping into your tone. You can feel your hanger about to violently consume you as you hiss. "I'm rather uneducated when it comes to merfolk food culture."

He just stares at you and it feels strange that he has no quip to counter you with.

Shit. Was that a bit much? You regret your words as soon as they're out of your mouth. Despite the merman's behavior, he doesn't entirely deserve to be on the receiving end of your ire. You really should have asked about his diet. And maybe gotten yourself a bite to eat while you were getting him that fish. It's not as if you didn't know you were hungry.

You take a deep, deep breath, hoping that fresh oxygen in your lungs can keep you sane for just a little bit longer. "Sorry. Just… is there— is it really completely inedible like this? If you really want it warm or something, I can cook it for you really quick."

He seems to consider your words, and you hope his response will be favorable. "...No, it's fine like this, I guess."

Relief saturates you as you exhale. You hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath. "I promise I'll get you something better later, it's just I… kind of don't have the time right now."

The merman hums and holds his hand out expectantly. You're not sure if you should just give him the whole platter or just the fish itself; you opt for the former as you cross the length of the bathroom to give him his meal. Then you look away. He's either going to swallow the fish whole or bite into it, and frankly, you don't know if you can stomach the sight of either.

It sounds like the latter though. You start to step away, seeing this as the perfect opportunity to get ready, but that would have to start with a shower and while the shower is completely separate from the tub it is also right there. The thought of giving the merman a show while he eats is absolutely mortifying, especially when you consider how unnaturally handsome he is. Maybe you should leave a little early and swing by the bathhouse to shower there…

“Got plans?” The merman’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“Uh, yeah.”

"A hot date?" he probes, sounding like he's snickering.

Your face feels warm and you whirl around to face him, catching a peek of a bit of the mackerel's tail hanging out of his mouth. "No, I'm meeting up with my best friend."

Last night doesn't count. You barely even spoke with one another. Not that you could since she—

"You don't seem all that excited about it," the merman remarks, his eyes watching you curiously, looking impossibly bluer than before.

You open your mouth to refute the claim. To tell him that the reason you don't seem excited isn't because of Minori but because you've spent your entire morning running yourself ragged because of him. But it’s not quite true, so you don’t. Try as you might to ignore it, Minori's recent behavior still weighs on you, awkward and uncomfortable. You hold your tongue and instead say, "That's… not true."

The merman's expression is indecipherable, his icy blue gaze fixed on you. It feels like he’s seeing right through you, silently calling you out on your weak excuse of a lie.

Feeling the conversation is over, you turn back around and take another step to leave, but then the merman speaks again.

“So, you know,” he starts, his tone adopting a flirtatious edge. “I’d be happy to teach you about merfolk culture. I’m pretty good at it, if I do say so myself.”

Your entire body goes rigid and you glance back at him, in mild disbelief. “At… teaching?”

He grins at you, as if he’s happy to have your eyes on him again. Is he starved for attention or something? The merman winks as he responds cheerfully, “Yup!”

You gawk at him. “Like how you’ve been ‘teaching’ me all day?”

“That’s right! You’ll be an expert in no time.”

You doubt that. His teaching methods leave a lot to be desired; you’d even go so far as to say he’s actually a garbage teacher. You consider telling him this, but decide not to because he really seems legitimately proud of his skills (or lack thereof). “I don’t know…”

“Come on! It’ll be lots of fun!”

You doubt that even more. “Based on everything you’ve ‘taught’ me so far, I’m honestly not even sure if I can adequately take care of you here…” You pause, then add, slowly more to yourself than the merman. “Maybe when I get back I should call the aquarium…”

It would be better, you think, to return him to the sea where he belongs. If anything, he seems well enough, and he hasn’t made any mention of any injuries that would keep him from going back. You don’t know for sure, but being in the aquarium would probably be better than your parent’s luxurious bathtub.

“An aquarium?” he exclaims and his voice is louder than usual, causing you to jump just a little bit. “You’re not serious, right?”

“Uh, well—”

“They keep a lot of different aquatic creatures there, don’t they?” the merman says before you can say anything.

“Yeah, but that means the facilities are bigger and so you’d—”

“They probably wouldn’t be able to give me the same kind of personalized care that I could get from you.”

“Maybe, but I’m sure they’d—”

“Besides,” he interrupts again, his voice even louder as if he’s trying (and succeeding) to gain dominance over the conversation at hand. “They’d probably keep me there for the rest of my life! They might even experiment on me!”

Wide eyed, you stare at the merman. Your initial thought is that the family that owns the aquarium wouldn’t do that, but you don’t know, someone else who works there might. Merfolk are supposed to be myths, legends, so it’s not completely outside the realm of possibility that if you were to dump him off at the aquarium that he’d become someone’s research project.

"You wouldn't do that to me, would you?" he pleads, staring at you, his baby blue eyes blown wide, wet with what you think, in the back of your mind, are crocodile tears, his lower lip quivering as if he’s a frightened child.

“I…” you start, trying to think of something, anything to say. There’s no doubt in your mind that the merman is guilting you. But you also know that he has a point, there’s no way to ensure that he’ll be treated humanely if you hand him off to someone else. Your stomach churns at the thought of scientists cruelly poking and prodding at him with needles and scalpels as if he were a lab rat. No matter how annoying he’s been, he wouldn’t deserve that.

After all, isn’t that why you brought him home in the first place? To protect him from such a cruel fate? If you were just going to hand him off to someone else, you should have just left him on the beach.

Slowly, you shake your head, “No… I wouldn’t.”

Pleased, the merman beams at you, his expression now the complete opposite of the pitiful look he was sporting just a moment ago. Despite his cheer, you still feel uneasy and you don’t think it’s because you’re hungry.

The reason becomes obvious when the merman speaks, as if your body was giving you a premonition, trying to warn you. “That settles it then! Guess we’re roommates now!”

You stare at him blankly, your thoughts stuttering at his words, struggling to comprehend them as if they were spoken with a foreign tongue. What did he say? What did he say? When your brain finally processes them, translates them into something you can understand, you nearly screech, the words flying out of your mouth before you can even think about filtering them. “Roommates? Who said anything about roommates?”

The merman’s eyes narrow into a smoldering gaze and you distantly wonder if he's just trying to show off the range of emotions that he's capable of. His voice drops an octave, purposefully sultry and seductive as he says, "Well, if you'd like a different kind of arrangement—"

"Shut up!" you finally snap, ignoring the electric feeling running up and down your spine at the mere sound of his voice. You don’t think you’ve snapped at anyone before, much less a stranger, but to hell with that and to him too. All morning he’s been bossing you around and while you’ve been doing you best to acquiesce to him, he keeps messing with you as if you’re his own personal toy. Maybe it really is the hanger, having consumed you, body and mind, by this point, but regardless, you’ve hit your limit with him. “We absolutely cannot be roommates! Don’t you have to return to the ocean, anyway? Won’t you turn into seafoam or something if you don’t?”

He starts to laugh and you glare at him. It probably sounds stupid, but you think you’ve heard something like that before, but then again it’s not like you actually know anything. The merman waves his hand dismissively, his lips curled up in amusement. “I know what you’re thinking and no, it’s nothing like that.”

"Okay, but that doesn't answer my question."

He gives you a noncommittal shrug. “Yeah, eventually.”

You wait, because you know there’s got to be more to it than that. Is he just doing these dramatic pauses for the fun of it? He shoots you a mischievous grin, almost confirming it, as he adds, “Should be fine as long as I go back in the next hundred years or so.”

You nearly choke on the air. One hundred years? He can’t be serious. You take a deep, deep breath before speaking. “Sorry, but I don’t have one hundred years to be your roommate— I don’t even know if I’ll live that long. I’m only going to be here for the summer, and then I’m heading back home to Tokyo.”

That should be enough to deter him. At least that’s what you think, but you also think that the merman might like proving you wrong. His smile shifts only just slightly, the glimmering in his eyes reminding you more of the sky than the sea that he calls home. “For the summer then. We can be roommates until you go back to Tokyo.”

You scowl, wracking your mind for some kind of counterpoint, but it feels like you’re fighting a losing battle in trying to argue with him. He takes your silence as a chance to attempt to further convince you. “Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re the only one here, right?”

You don’t say anything so he continues.

“Aren’t you lonely here all on your own?”

His question hangs in the air, unanswered, as you remain silent.

The truth is you’re used to it— to being lonely. You’ve been living on your own in Tokyo for long enough to be comfortable with the silence that comes with solitude. It’s no stranger, and sometimes you could even consider it a friend. But there’s no denying that maybe, just maybe you’d been hoping there would have been a little more time between your arrival and your parents’ departure. It’s fine. You’ll see them when they get back.

Besides, you still have Minori.

You can still hang out with her. Go eat at little cafes where you’re meant to take pictures of the food rather than enjoy eating it. Or have sleepovers where you chat about anything and everything. How she’s got something going on with Hayato. How weirdly nice Shinomiya is. How different life in Tokyo is compared to here. And maybe spending time with her will be enough to take the place of the silence, the loneliness that you’re grown accustomed to. It’s fine, you tell yourself, almost viciously. It’s fine because you still have Minori.

Minori, who’s supposedly your best friend.

Minori, who, you suppose, is acting strange around you.

Minori, who you’re supposed to hang out with in about an hour.

“We can’t be roommates,” you repeat, through gritted teeth as you reach up to massage your temple in exasperation. You don’t have time to deal with this right now: you need to get ready. “I don’t even know you. I don’t even know your name.”

The merman opens his mouth to respond but just as he starts to speak, you can feel a vibrating in your pocket. Soon after the sound of your ringtone fills the bathroom, echoing off the walls. You shoot him a look, silently telling him to be quiet as you reach into your pocket to grab your phone. Your stomach feels like it’s doing gymnastics, flipping and folding into itself, uncomfortably, painfully. It’s amazing your phone is still alive, having gone all night and almost all morning off the charger and you catch sight of how much the battery remains— nine percent. But that’s not the most important thing right now.

It’s Minori that’s calling.

You turn away from the merman, gulping as you swipe the green answer button on the screen. “Hello?”

“Hey.” Her voice is strained, hoarse, like she’s gotten sick or spent all night screaming.

“Are you okay?” you ask, more a formality than anything. You know the answer, but you’re still concerned.

“No, I—” She coughs. It sounds almost forced. You ignore it. “I… kinda drank a little too much last night…”

Somehow, you’re not surprised. You bite the inside of your cheek as you try not to frown. “It’s okay. We can reschedule.”

“...you sure?”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “You don’t feel well and… we have all summer to hang out.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“Okay,” Minori rasps out, then she adds, almost an afterthought. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you insist. “Really.”

You could almost swear you hear another voice in the background, one that sounds almost familiar but you ignore it. You ignore it. You ignore it.

“It’s fine,” you repeat. “We have all summer.”

“Right.”

“Just get some rest, okay?”

“Mmhmm… bye.”

“Bye.” The line clicks first on Minori’s end. Your hand drops to your side limply and your phone almost slips from your fingers.

You don’t know how to feel.

On the one hand, she really might have drank too much. You remember seeing a few coolers filled to the brim with booze last night. It’s not impossible that, after you’d left, people, people including Minori, might have really gone to town with the drinking. She definitely could have gotten a hangover from drinking too much.

But something else in the back of your mind insists otherwise, it whispers that there’s something else going on. Her behavior is too suspicious, and it’s getting harder and harder to fight off the notion that she’s doing this on purpose, that she’s avoiding seeing you, avoiding talking to you.

And that hurts.

But what hurts more is that you don’t really know why.

Is it just because you were really bad at talking to her when you were in Tokyo? Or is it something else? You could message her and ask, but you’d rather ask her in person when you can. If you can.

“Satoru.”

You startle at the sound of the merman’s voice, turning toward him. You almost forgot that he was here. He’s watching you curiously, expression unreadable. It makes you a little uncomfortable, like he’s dissecting you.

“What?” Your voice is almost inaudible.

“Satoru,” he repeats and you notice his tone is almost gentle now. “That’s my name.”

“...just Satoru?” you ask, unsure. You actually have little doubt that it’s his name, but it feels a little… too close, too personal to be using his first name when you barely know him.

The merman gives you a wry smile as he dodges your question. “You know, it’s impolite to not offer your name after someone else gives you theirs.”

He’s not wrong, but still you hesitate. You feel like there’s some unspoken significance in giving him your name, like once you do, you’ll be setting something into motion that you won’t be able to stop.

It’s just a name, just your name.

Satoru’s eyes glimmer as you offer it to him and he repeats your name back, as if he’s testing the feel of it in his mouth. Something in your chest stirs at the sound of it, a little voice in the back of your head smugly telling you that it was right, but you ignore it.

With a satisfied hum, he says, tone shifting into something more cheerful, “With that out of the way, there’s no reason we can’t be roommates now, right?”

You stare at him wide eyed. It’s completely beyond you why he’d rather spend his time here, in your parent’s bathroom over being in the big wide ocean, but it’s clear that he has no intent on giving up. Between Satoru keeping you busy all morning and Minori canceling your plans, you don’t really have the energy to fight him any more anyway.

“It’ll be fun, I promise,” Satoru insists with a smile. This one is different from the others you’ve seen from him so far and you wonder if he’s trying to take a different approach to convince you.

Not that he needs to any more; you’re already resigned yourself to your fate.

“...only until I go back to Tokyo, okay?” you relent, squeezing the phone in your hand so hard it might break. This might be a mistake, agreeing to let this merman, to let Satoru stay here for the summer, but it’s fine.

It’s fine.

Satoru beams, bright and triumphant as he echoes. “Only until you go back to Tokyo.”

One trip out of the house to the bathhouse and the store is enough to reduce the discontent you feel from whatever is going on with Minori to just a frustrating buzz in the back of your mind. You know it won’t fully go away until you and Minori actually talk about it, but with the way things are going, who knows when that will be?

Besides, you feel like your hands are going to be too full attending to Satoru to dwell on anything for very long.

You heave everything you got at the store onto the counter. Even though you’d gone just yesterday, the sudden appearance of another mouth to feed demanded another trip. Despite Satoru’s offer to teach you about merfolk culture, he wasn’t particularly helpful when you asked him (this time) what kind of food to get him. Seafood, he’d told you with a snicker, and when you probed for something more substantial than that all he said was to surprise him.

His teaching methods really do leave a lot to be desired.

You did what you could with what little he gave you. Naturally, you bought seafood, two more whole fish, and then some other things, some of them a little… unconventional. It’s fine, though, you made sure to get things you could eat just in case Satoru doesn't like them. And if he doesn't maybe that'll teach him to be a little more specific next time.

"Hey! Are you back?" Satoru's naturally loud voice echoes throughout the house. He must have really good hearing if he heard you shuffling in the kitchen, though you did slam the door pretty loud when you came back in earlier.

"Yeah!" You holler back.

"Perfect! I'm hungry!"

Of course he is. But then again, it's been a bit since he ate that mackerel earlier. Your stomach rumbles in agreement with Satoru. After Minori had called, your hanger and appetite had basically disappeared, but now it seems like it's recovered. Your stomach grumbles again, and you consider eating before bringing Satoru his food, but…

Since you're "roommates" now wouldn't it be better to eat together?

Sharing a meal with Satoru sounds like a mistake, but if he gets too annoying you can just get up and walk away. Nodding to yourself, you grab the things you'd bought to eat and some of the things you'd gotten for Satoru to try and head for the bathroom, stopping by the storage closet on the way.

You find what you're looking for— your mother's bed and bathtub trays— with relative ease. Hopefully, the bathtub tray will sit comfortably on the tub, even with Satoru's massive body in it, if not… you can probably both share the bed tray. You grab both trays and, while it's a little awkward, you manage to carry them both into the bathroom.

Satoru's lounging in the tub, since there's not really much else he can do, his long arms and even longer tail hanging off the edges. You feel bad, even though your parents' luxury tub is huge by human standards, it really is too small for him. Maybe it'd be fine if he could bend his tail the way people bend their legs but you don't know if he can. When you enter, Satoru tilts his head toward you and shoots you a lazy grin. You freeze, remembering again, how stunningly handsome he is.

And then he ruins it, by opening his mouth, eyes on the bag in your hand.

He starts to pout. "Did you bring me another dead fish?"

"They only sell dead fish at the store." You say while you set up the trays as little makeshift tables for you both. Luckily, the bathtub tray fits— just barely— but a win’s a win in your book. When that’s all done, you start to pull everything out of the bags. Satoru watches curiously as you separate your stuff from his. Belatedly, you realize you’ve only really brought him snacks and nothing actually substantial.

“So, what have we got here?” he asks when you’re done.

“Uh, well,” you point at each item, telling him what it is as you sit down next to the tub. “Dried shredded squid, some different kinds of seaweed snacks and dried anchovies.”

Satoru hums and picks up the bag of dried anchovies and examines it, turning it over in his hands. Is he wondering how to open it? You’re about to reach over and show him the notch in the bag that he needs to tear, but he gets to it before you do and rips the bag open. It’s a little impressive that he figured it out on his own. You watch as he reaches his hand in and gingerly pulls out one of the fish. He turns it over in his fingers, looking at it before popping the whole thing in his mouth. You hear the absolute barest crunch as he chews on it.

When he’s done he chucks another one in his mouth as if it were a potato chip. “Not bad.”

You beam, maybe it’s not a glowing review, but still you’re glad to have finally, finally gotten some kind of stamp of approval from Satoru.

He glances at you and his lips ease up into a mischievous smile as he plucks yet another anchovy from the bag and holds it up to your face in offering. “Would you like one too?”

You eye the anchovy anxiously and bite your lip, not sure what to say. Do you tell him? Or do you just bite the bullet?

“What’s with that look?” Satoru asks, pouting. “Do you humans not eat these?”

“Uh…”

The pout becomes more pronounced, his eyebrows furrowing together. “Did you really give me something you wouldn’t eat? How mean.”

“...you said surprise me,” you finally grumble. “I’ve only ever used those in making soup stock— I’ve never eaten them like that.”

In an instant Satoru’s frown is gone as he latches onto the last thing you’ve said. He leans forward excitedly, his eyes shimmering with some kind of predatory joy. “Is that so? That would make this… your first time too?”

He does that thing with his voice again, and your brain goes offline for just a millisecond before booting back up. “Don’t make it weird.”

Satoru smiles, unaffected by your deflection. He waves the anchovy in front of you. “Well? Gonna try?”

You stare at it. It’s not like you’re opposed to it, so why not? It’s Satoru’s first time trying anchovies like this, so in a way would it be fair. You’re drawing the line at letting him hand feed it to you, though. Leaning a little bit back, you take the fish from him and toss it into your mouth. Just as you expected it’s a little crunchy, but more than that the taste is intense and salty, but…

“It’s not bad,” you remark, echoing Satoru’s sentiments. He grins and starts to eat them in earnest, few at a time. You pull at the plastic of one of the rice balls you got for yourself so you can dig in. After a couple bites, you notice out of the corner of your eye that Satoru’s looking at you again. “Mmm?”

“What do you have?”

You swallow what’s in your mouth before you explain. “Just some rice balls and a fruit sando.”

“Why does your food look better than mine?”

“Uh,” you pause, trying to think of how to word it, “My stuff is more… complex, I guess?”

Most of what you got for Satoru is pretty simple, consisting of only an ingredient or two. He huffs, obviously off-put by your answer, and leers at you like he wants something. Then he says, petulant, “I want some.”

You’re almost startled at how straightforward he is about it. Almost.

“I… just wasn’t sure if your stomach would be able to handle more… processed human foods,” you explain. “If… if you really want, we can share. I-I just wouldn’t want you to get sick from something you ate, you know?”

Satoru’s eyes widen slightly at your words, but then he waves his hand almost dismissively, “Nah, it should be fine.”

You’re not so sure, but if he says so. “Okay…”

“So, what's that?” he asks, gesturing to the rice ball in your hand.

“It’s a tuna mayo rice ball. The other one I have has salted salmon.”

“I see.”

You think about the best way to go about sharing the rice ball. Would it be better to just flat out give him your salted salmon rice ball? There’s really no way for you to break off a piece of your rice ball to give him to try without basically breaking the entire thing apart.

Before you can decide on a course of action, Satoru ends up deciding for you. He leans all the way forward, getting all into your personal space so he can take a huge chomp out of the rice ball in your hands. You almost drop the entire thing in shock, and Satoru is either completely unaware or doesn’t even care as he leans back in the tub, grinning with a wicked amusement as he chews.

“That’s pretty good,” he remarks, licking his lips. Your eyes are unfortunate enough to pay a little too much attention to the action.

It takes you a moment to recover and you hand him the rest of the rice ball and say. “Okay, well, you can have the rest of this one and I’ll just have this one to myself.”

“I thought we were sharing?”

“We are,” you insist. “You’re eating that one, and I’m eating this one.”

“But I wanted to try the salted salmon one, too.”

“I… I will get one just for you next time I go to the store, okay?” you offer, hoping that will deter him from invading your personal space again and sinking his teeth into the other rice ball.

It doesn’t.

You’re so lucky that the fruit sando is sliced in two pieces.

next chapter (coming soon) →

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #nikuniku fics #sots fic tag

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