scribiel

[scribiel]

Ok I have another theory about this "Otherworldly visitor"

Sylus was originally from Dawnbreaker's world

The experiments done on the girl who would have been Dawnbreaker's MC failed, killing her

So the scientists moved on to experiment on baby Sylus instead

That's why they're so similar and he finds a kindred spirit in our world's MC

He came to this world after completely fucking up his own world. He needs resources from this world that have been depleted in his world

If this were true, that means there is a link from Dawnbreaker's world to this world and that Dawnbreaker really is without an MC in his world :')

[scribiel]

I mean.. sure, Sylus is hot.

But when Rafayel said he's fully aware that the ultimate symbol of devotion is giving himself completely and, as he put it, allowing himself to be trapped,

it was just the sexiest thing ever.

[scribiel]

“i would rather die than to love you from afar„

rafayel would tuck your hair behind your ear and looks at you with loving eyes when you fall asleep listening to his ramblings.

rafayel who acts defiant and dramatic for the fun of it, he adores seeing you grin and laugh at his silly behavior.

rafayel relishes the warmth of your hand intertwined with his. although you may not remember him from your previous lives, he'll make sure to cherish you in this life anyways.

rafayel, who's heart overflows with love. he would do anything to stay by your side, even if it means giving up everything he has for you.

___

xavier, who puts himself on the line for you. your safety is his top priority.

xavier who rarely ever refuses you. he can't, he can't find himself refusing you. ask him anything, and he would do anything in his power to give it to you.

xavier, who would always get hurt and never go to the hospital. he always comes to you with one or two more wounds that you scold him for getting. it isn't his fault he keeps on getting hurt, maybe he just wanted to see you.

xavier would fall asleep everywhere, and sometimes even on you— if you let him. you may not see it, but his eyes is practically brimming with love for you.

___

zayne, who gives you gifts as a sign of his affection.

zayne treasures the memories you guys make together. he keeps those memories close to his heart, loving you despite being cursed with the pain that comes along with it.

zayne who gets flustered when you catch him eating sweets. although he is a doctor himself, he can't resist sweets— which makes you giggle at the mention of that.

zayne, who boldly holds and kisses you. he doesn't care if his love for you will kill him, he would rather die than to love you from afar.

a/n: this might be occ and inaccurate LMAO. had to use the fandom wiki to make it seem accurate as possible. i haven't played the game in a while so ^^

[scribiel]

＃LOVE AND DEEPSPACE !! ♡ — HOW I CRAVE YOU IN THE MORNIN' (RAFAYEL X READER).

#. synopsis! — rafayel doesn't really like mornings, but heaven knows he likes you .

#. characters! — rafayel.

#. warnings! — none .

#. word count! — 1.3k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

Rafayel has never been a morning person. He likes to watch the occasional sunrise if he wakes naturally to catch it, but heaven knows he’s loath to pull himself out of bed before he feels good and ready. You, on the other hand, don’t tend to have the luxury of sleeping in until whenever you please. The life of a Deepspace Hunter often requires early starts, and now that you’ve woven your life so tightly between the threads of Rafayel’s, he’s seldom excluded from the harsh ring of your alarm coercing you out of bed, out of your dreams of sweet nothings, and into the real world (which is often much less pretty.)

You don’t even have to open your eyes to know that Rafayel is already pouting at the mere thought of your departure, and your suspicions are confirmed when he snakes his arms around your waist, groaning.

“Baby,�� he mutters, “don’t go, the bed gets so cold when you leave.”

You sigh.

“Have to,” you murmur, still half asleep. “Work.”

“Call in sick.”

“I’m not sick,” you answer, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You know my work is important for more reasons than one, Rafayel.”

“I do know,” he sighs, though it’s clear he’s less than happy about agreeing.

In fairness, you’re not particularly happy about this either. You love your job, worked hard to get it and climb the ranks within it, but man, sometimes you wish it were possible to pay the bills with currency earned cuddling in bed with the man nuzzling into your neck like a kitten. 

“Then don’t ask me to call in sick,” you laugh, turning your head to press a soft kiss to his warm temple.

He groans again, though you know he appreciates the affection.

Gently and with great reluctance, you pull yourself from Rafayel’s embrace, though you can’t help but take a moment to marvel at the way early morning rays of light filter through the curtains, playing on his delicate features. His eyes like marbled sunsets lazily find their way to you, still heavy with sleep, peering up at you in a mixture of love and discontent.

“You’re a menace to my sleeping schedule,” he grumbles playfully.

“Consider it payback for all the nights you’ve kept me up too late,” you answer jokingly, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’ll have you know, keeping you up at night is a vital part of our relationship,” he pouts, but there’s an unmistakable glint of mischeviousness in his tired gaze.

You giggle, knowing he’s joking (at least in part.)

“I’ll make it up to you,” you move closer, cupping his cheeks in your hands and leaning down to peck his lips. “Promise.”

“You better,” he mutters.

“Don’t I always?” You inquire, fingers feathering through his soft hair.

“Yeah,” he acknowledges in a semi-rare moment of complete sincerity from the man who often goes through the world half-wittingly. “You do.”

You smile, soft and warm, leaning in for another lingering kiss, savoring the warmth and familiarity of Rafayel’s touch. His arms reach up, wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he’s hesitant to let go.

“Be safe, okay?” He says.

“Always,” you nod.

Before, you might have mistaken his concern for a lack of trust in your abilities, but you’re well past the point of pointless misunderstandings. Rafayel may be an artist, and he might spin his words like golden threads from time to time, making you read between the lines, but your sincerest assessment of the moment tells you he’s said exactly what he means. He wants you to be safe, wants you to come home in one piece, and you let him steal another quick kiss before standing upright.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you add, hoping it might soften the blow of your departure.

His playful pout returns.

“You seem to doubt the depth of my ability to lament over your absence,” he states.

“I don’t doubt it at all, but I’d rather you find more enjoyable ways to spend your day,” you laugh.

He sighs dramatically.

“Bring back something interesting from your adventure,” he suggests, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. “Maybe something I can crush up, turn into paint.”

“Need I remind you what happened the last time you used an oddly sourced item for pigment?” You ask incredilously.

Rafayel rolls his eyes.

“Need I remind you that that’s precisely how we met?” He counters.

“Still,” you sigh, “I’d much prefer you not be endangered by your paint. Stick with oils and acrylics for a while. For my peace of mind.”

“Is that concern I detect from you, my little hunter?” Rafayel grins.

“Of course it is,” you reply honestly. “You might be pretentious and obnoxious, but I love you. I’d never want you in harm’s way.”

His teasing smirk softens to a genuine smile at your sincerity, and he stands, taking a moment to stretch before reaching out to caress the curve of your jaw with the top of his index finger.

“Obnoxious and pretentious, huh?” He chuckles lightly. “Thank you for the glowing evaluation of my character, darling. But, because I do happen to love you as well, I’ll let that little dig slide, —and I’ll do my very best to stick to safe and traditional mediums, at least for the time being, just for you.”

You can’t help but smile at Rafayel’s good-natured reply. His gentle touch lingers on your jaw, and you lean into it, relishing in the softness of his affection.

“Very much so appreciated,” you answer amusedly. “I’ll consider it a personal victory if we can avoid any and all paint-related Wanderer incidents for the forseeable future.”

Rafayel gives a curt nod.

“A noble goal, my dearest hunter,” he says. “Now go forth and fell any pesky Wanderers intent on disturbing the peace of our humble city of high-class electronic developments, bringing back tales of wonder and triumph.”

Heaven knows he has to be the most dramatic man you’ve ever met, but you couldn’t imagine him being any other way.

You play along and give him a mock salute.

“Yes sir, at once.”

Rafayel stifles a laugh, clearly pleased by your participation in his theatrics. He thinks for a moment that this life he lives with you is nothing short of fantastical, —the kind of comfort he only dreamed of just years ago, and now here you are before him, like some kind of angel he’s terrified he might wake up to find was a figment of his deepest desires all along. But his worries are quenched by the way your lips slot so perfectly against his own as he leans in, kissing you sweetly.

“May the cosmic forces be ever in your favor, my love. Return not only with tales of triumph, but also interstellar souvenirs for my viewing pleasure and artistic inspirations if you happen to stumble across any. Preferably ones that will not curse our modest seaside home.”

You laugh, and it makes his heart stutter.

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for cosmic trinkets,” you assure.

You’re thrumming by the time Rafayel pulls you in again, pressing you closer to his chest. There’s nothing he has to say to fill the silence, and you let your eyes close for a moment, awash in the silent exchange of understanding so deep it could rival the cosmos. Beyond all the playful banter and the theatrical mannerisms, there’s love here, and that’s really all you could ask for. Worries about your safety, concern over Rafayel’s tendency to attract bad omens, —they dissipate in the face of this connection that buzzes like a live wire.

As you finally pull away, you meet his gaze and find nothing but softness there, replacing all the prior amusement and tiredness from before.

“Return safely, my angel. Our oceanside abode awaits your triumphant arrival,” he takes your hand, brushing his lips over your knuckles. “And so do I.”

[scribiel]

The way they sometimes sneak a look at mc's lips makes me feel things y'all 🫠💕

[scribiel]

love and deepspace men when you keep telling them you love them

ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel fluff fluff and fluff

zayne

“is that how you’re going to reply to anything i say today?” he asked in a serious tone, although the slight twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed him. you smiled just a tad wider, gaining a reaction from the man whose lap you’re sitting at. “i love you,” you say once more, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. zayne just looked at you, he gazed at you so adoringly with eyes that told you millions. a hand cupped your jaw as you leaned into the touch, his hand felt warm. his thumb rubbed your cheek, then he let out the slightest smile to himself. “i can never win against you, can i?” he asked, kissing your lips as you could feel his smile against yours he mumbled, “i love you too.”

xavier

xavier offered you his sweetest smile as he stared at you. “i think i like this game.” he pulled you close, his arms around your waist as he leaned it, his breath ghosting over the skin of your cheek. you laughed at the ticklish feeling. “and i think i love you,” you replied, grabbing a hold of his face with both of your hand to stop his mischievous movement. xavier smiled once more, to a point where looked like he’s practically beaming. “again,” he whispered. “i love you, xavier.”

he chuckled happily, the sound filled your chest with an overwhelming sensation. “again?” he rested his forehead against yours, a gorgeous smile still loyal on his lips. “i love you so much, xavier.” xavier closed his eyes, as if basking the happiness that he thought could last for two eternities. he pressed a kiss on your lips, “i love you.” he pulled away before leaning in once more. “i love you, (y/n). always.”

rafayel

he looked almost smug on the first one, a coy smile painted his feature. “i know that,” he said as he crossed his arms, looking a tad too proud of himself. “rafayel, i love you,” you said once more as his demeanor changed slightly from the confident man to someone who looked a little unsure. “oh.. uh.. y-yeah you said that already,” he rubbed the back of his head, a pretty color of pink rose to his cheeks. you chuckled quietly at the expected reaction. you put your arms around his neck as you once more said, “have i told you that i love you so much rafayel?”

his blush now has spread all the way to the tip of his ears. “yes, yes you did, enough please!” he face palmed, trying to cover half of his face which proved to be futile since he left enough space so he could still look at you. “you never have mercy on my poor heart,” he mumbled, finally reciprocating the embrace. you squinted your eyes, expecting a certain sentence to be said back. “fine, fine. i love you too. happy?” he said, teasing. you exaggerated a frown as he laughed. “i love you, (y/n).” he said sincerely, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

[scribiel]

Maybe The Real Treasure Was You.

content warning : satoru gojo x fem! reader , written in epistolary and implicit form , basically getting out from an abusive person to a breath of fresh air (satoru)

Satoru, will you forgive my soul, for it is already tainted by dirt and unimaginable things? Let me explain it to you. There was a point in my life where I was a pawn, a robot, a puppet with strings; my whole life I had been that day, ordered and knew no destination, prize, and something to die for but his order. 

When I passed through the point of no return, I met you there. Strange. And long story short, we had the same destination. But you, you didn’t choose that destination because someone ordered you to, but because you wanted to. For once, I wanted to know what freedom would taste like. And all I knew was that one of my strings broke off.

Along the journey, my master passed away. I no longer had a purpose of living, a destination to obtain, and a place to call home. Then there was you, telling me, “You’ll be alright. As you know”—your finger tapped my left chest, my heart— “you should always make a home in your own self. We are always on our own.”

I almost lost it, but amidst the chaos and everything that was collapsing, you were there. You kept it together. I was, until this day, wondering how could someone so strong, yet so gentle and soft to keep me from falling apart? 

But you, you were not like my master. Your hands kept me together, yet never held me down. You gave me advice from your rationality and what you saw fit, but you never forgot to inquire about how I thought and felt about it. You said it was a discussion. For two people. For middle ground. For the comfort we share. For the sake of us both. 

But what were we back then? Teammates? Friends? Partners? I didn’t know either. But, thanks to you, I knew what freedom was; how it felt to be seen, heard, and appreciated felt like; how easy it was to roll your opinion off your tongue without being strangled after. You had given me the taste of fresh air, clear water, and freedom. And all I knew, I wanted to latch onto you for the longest time.

But, Satoru, there was lots of damage my master had done. Irreversible. My hands had touched, hurt, and done unspeakable things in the name of his, for the sake of him. Yet, you never once hesitated to hold them. I was ashamed; you were the kindest being to ever touch me to the deepest core of my existence: my heart and soul.

Satoru, the dragons were nothing to me when you stood by me; I stood tall. I was so ashamed for who I was; therefore I wanted to change who I was to be the one who’s deserving to call you home. I was more ashamed when you gave me wings. You helped me to fly. You gave me your strength whenever I lost mine. You strengthen every weakened part that I had. Polished any dull edges of me, making them the shiniest of me. You told me, “It’s a good thing that I met you. I really really enjoy your companion. I hope you want to keep me company after we reach our destination”—you held your chin, a smirk painted across your face—”and maybe let’s have lots of adventures on our own?” 

I am forever grateful, Satoru. My answer was, is, and will remain ‘yes’. I am nothing without you, but with you, what I am is a different thing. You are such a wonderful magician, making all my scars as if they were never there. Back then, I didn’t care anymore whether we were going to reach the destination or not. Because you’ve become my destination. A starting, an ending, and everything in between. You have become someone whom my heart, now, always calls and longs for.

any feedback is welcome here

[scribiel]

Hopeless Confusion

“

I wish upon a star,

For another life where we are together

”

You sat down on the dinner table again, a meal for two, yet only one sat. A house for two, yet one only visited. Why are you still here? The melancholy loneliness fills your heart with ice, you stare at the meal you prepared and watch it start to become cold. No one touched it, not even your own. The table cloth was set perfectly, with proper utensils for two people. None of them were used, the time you spent all alone. It hurts.

You look up at the clock, the time wasn’t important anyway – especially when your mind lingered for something else. Your gaze flickered outside, waiting and anticipating an arrival that would never happen. The sky has a gradient from porcelain blue to coral orange. Blue, just like his eyes. 

The silence you shared with no one but your own, your bloodshot eyes’ vision blurs. Something wet rolls down your cheek, although you didn’t move. The tear drips onto the table cloth, your pupils followed down to where the tear fell.  Maybe he’ll come back, that mix of hope and denial remains pinned in your head. Soon another tear slipped out, you helplessly choked out a sob. 

It’s been 192 days, you still came here and set the dinner table and pretended he was there. Hoping that he will one day return from his slumber. You weren’t the most patient person. For him, you could wait forever. 

Counting the days was worthless, it didn’t bring him back. It only aggravated and abated your delusional coping mechanism. Your heart didn’t want to move on, you didn’t want to live a life without him. The thought of acceptance has slowly faded from your brain. You couldn’t accept that he can’t come back and shower you with affection. You couldn’t accept that you won’t be able to caress the side of his cheek and hold him dearly. The strong smell of cologne that he owned was useless now that it was only an empty scent with no warmth.

Yet, you knew it. The only thing that could set him free was death itself. 

[scribiel]

Bad Omens — Ryomen Sukuna x fem! Reader

cw // explicit content , toxic relationship , blood , stalking , manipulation , gaslight , misspellings and grammar errors (sorry, english isnt my first language)

Three months into the relationship, it was beautiful. You began to unravel many sides of him: the clingy one, he didnt want to let you go in public places, which you found cute; the jealous one, for simple reason such as a waiter hitting on you, which ofc, again you found it cute. You noticed that he was so posessive yet so loving, which made you think it was cute and tolerable.

Eight months into, you started to realize that Sukuna had loved you enough to show you his true colors: tough love. There were times, he didnt give you shelter when you were vulnerable. You thought, 'oh, maybe that's his way of loving. To strengthen people he loves.'

And you thought, that was okay. Maybe you really needed that. A hands to strengthen you, not to share your tears and burden.

Sukuna told you how much he hated to see you cry. So you never did.

The love grew stronger, but so did the jealousy and other bad omens he showed. There was once, where you accidentally set his jealousy on fire, then he cornered you—just as usual— you couldnt lie to yourself that it was hot. But, then he pulled a sudden move that put you in a shock. He punched the wall next to your head. And it wasnt once. He had to do it again. Again. And again. Until he pulled it, placed it next to his body; and you saw red blood dripping from his knuckles.

Seeing horror in your face, Sukuna suddenly looked down, He didn't have courage to look you in the eyes, but somehow, his hands managed to cup your face. He placed a soft kiss upon your forehead as he whispered softly, "I am so so so sorry. But you have to understand that it was also your doing. I was so scared to lose you."

He continued, "I cant lose you. And please please don't leave me."

You set into shambles. "I am so so sorry, Sukuna."

His words had gotten into you. Maybe bcs it was the feeling when someone didnt want to lose you, or the sense of belonging, or just a blind devoted person in the name of love.

There were many times you fought. Most of the fights were caused by how wierd his ex behaved, Uraume. You told him that it was very unusual to have your ex do whatever you ask. It was more like a master and servant not like a romantic relationship. But, again, he shook it off. And the way he acted—the i never want to lose you, the i love you, the possessiveness, the clinginess— made you believe that he loves you.

One day, you told this to your friends—Satoru and Suguru. Shoko couldn’t be there due to an emergency operation she had to perform— and both of your friends agreed that it was very weird for Sukuna and Uraume; and he might not love you that much. But you opposed their opinion, you firmly assured them, “No! I do think he treats me the way I deserve to be treated.”

Suguru frowned. “That isn’t love.”

You shook your head. “It’s tough love!”

Suguru looked concerned. “You know, you should really run away. Stat.”

You got home and Sukuna was frowning. He was irritated. You thought something was wrong with his day … or you did something that made him irritated. Satoru’s jacket. On your shoulder.

Oh. Wow.

He stood up from the sofa, began to walk toward you, caged you in the corner. His knuckles brushed against your cheek. “You know I don’t like it.”

He whispered in your ears, “I saw the guy with the dark hair taking you home. What a whore. Wearing another man’s jacket and taken home with a different man? And then come home to me?”

“What?! You saw?!” You realized he was stalking you.

You pushed him, getting out from that corner. “We should break up!”

Two steps away, and Sukuna grabbed your wrist, a little too tight that it made you whine from the pain. “There’s no breaking up with me.”

You tried to shake his grip off, trying to pull back your hand. “Let me go!”

Somehow, you managed to. Three steps ahead, he pulled your hair, and it made you turn around and face him. And his hands swiftly moved to your neck, applying a small pressure to your neck. It was a reminder about who was in control. You could feel the air start leaving you, making you feel dizzy. And when Sukuna realized, he took the chance by whispering sweet nothings, “You know I love you. And I can’t live without you.”

Suguru’s words flashed in your mind. You really should run, but Sukuna’s words started to corrupt your mind, leaving you no choice but to be in chains. You cried, mourning for the sanity that was left in you. All you thought was how helpless you were.

You cried, “Your ex! Cant Uraume just get away from you!? Fuck … you are insane, Sukuna.”

“I love you,” he repeated. “You should know that you made me behave like this. I am losing my head at the thought of you leaving.”

Another bad omen that you chose to ignore the moment he continued his sentence, “And I’ll harm anyone who tries to take you away from me. Even both of your beloved friends.”

So then, your wings of freedom had just been chopped into small.pieces. You felt his hands moving to your cheeks, cupping them and wiping the tears away. And back to the starting point of the cycle, he kissed you again, rough and aggressive, like a man who had not known to feast at all. The problem was you melted from his touch again, you felt your heart beating faster. So then you closed your eyes and kissed him back. It was painful, yet thrilling. So bitter, yet so sweet. Heart beating, be it adrenaline or love, you couldn’t care less. You could only feel this good, confused, as if your head was in cloud nine, with Sukuna and Sukuna only.

“I’ll show you why Uraume shouldn’t be your concern.”

You realized, like many nights you had fought with him before, the solution always came to one place: the bed. Angrily did the deed; leather whip; and handcuffed.

And this morning, you woke up because you heard Sukuna was moaning your name. Or perhaps it was just a dream. But when your vision became clearer, you saw Sukuna rocking his hips against Uraume, he was doing it with her while moaning your name.

Handcuffed on the bed, you couldn’t escape or run. As he realized you had woken up, he stopped and pulled out from Uraume. He smirked at you. “I take back my words when I said tears don't suit you. It does.”

Sukuna walked to you and started kissing you. “You see what I did? Fucking her and only you in my mind. I could never dare to do you if you are unconscious”

Tears flowed more and more, and he licked them. You saw Urame approaching the bed. “Master Sukuna ordered me to please you more as he does the deed with you later.”

“See? She doesn't mind. She’s a servant and you are a lover. My lover.”

The moment Sukuna’s knuckle brushed softly against your left cheek, you had come to realize that you were a bird with wings chopped into pieces in a red and bloody cage

[scribiel]

masterlist

hello, there! and welcome to my account!

a brief information about me : goes by marella and ella for short | she/her | 21+ 🔞| i write and read | english is not my first language; therefore, please pardon any of my grammar mistakes and misspellings | byf/interact please check my carrd

likes, reblogs, and share are very appreciated! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

reach me through direct message/tellonym

table of content

Jujutsu Kaisen

Satoru Gojo

scrutiny is one of your ways of loving (fluff)

The Sound of Love (angst)

NIGHTIANGLES (angst)

New Year's Day (fluff)

My house of stones, your ivy grows. And I’m covered in you (fluff)

Suguru Geto

thank you is also a form of saying i love you (fluff)

Sukuna Ryomen

Bad Omens (🔞 explicit content , toxic relationship , blood , stalking , manipulation , gaslight)

[scribiel]

Ahhhh!!! You really are talented for making it feels so real, so close to home. Thaank you for writing 🥹🥹🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻.

MARRIED ON PURPOSE

- gojo satoru x reader

"for one, i can show you incredible things!" jujutsu, madness, heaven, sin. the strongest sorcerer is sure to show you all of that during the whole duration of your six-month marriage contract.

genre: marriage of convenience, enemies to lovers, crack, fluff, slight satosugu angst/comfort, kamo!reader, very suggestive. gojo clan is portrayed as very traditional, meanwhile kamo clan is rather unpleasant here

note: the unholy amount of times i've edited this story *sigh* but okay i must drop it here or else i'm going to keep editing it and losing my mind. despite my misgivings and all, i really had fun writing this and i hope you enjoy it! wc. 5k !

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Some would say... marrying Gojo Satoru would be living the dream.

“Don't look that sour now, wife.”

“…sigh.”

A playful nudge at your side, a lighthearted voice— “You're going to make them question our veeery happy marriage, you know… We don't want that now, do we?”

But to you, it was more like nightmare dressed in a daydream.

It was peak comedy because why would you put marrying Gojo Satoru in your life plans? He was incorrigible, a child trapped in a man's body, and there was also the very fact that you hate him. His only redeeming trait was being born in the esteemed Gojo clan, and now held the title of the strongest.

You know you must have accumulated karma, but out of everything else, why must you end up in this predicament?

Hailing from the great clans of jujutsu society, both of you know well that marriage is the essence to make the clan greater. And when it involves the big three clans, its importance amplifies even further.

It was just that you two were too rebellious to follow it through, for one reason or another. Everyone knows Gojo Satoru was faithless to any woman, and you were not exactly thrilled with the idea of marriage as a whole.

He was the one who came to you, proposing this insane idea of a temporary marriage.

"Look at it this way," Satoru said with a wry grin, contrasting your puzzled frown on that fateful afternoon. "It's either me or Zen'in Naoya for you, isn't it? It's so clear which is the better man."

That was what grated you the most. You would be damned if you married the misogynist.

"What do you get from this arrangement, really?" you questioned begrudgingly.

His name would give you security, stop the harassment from your clan, and maybe even a better life, but you didn't quite get what he'd get from the offer he willingly extended to you.

Satoru flippantly shrugged. "Nah, you are not exactly my type, but you're still far better than the boring puppet my family have considered to be my wife."

"Who?"

"Don't remember her name. All she goes on about is that she'll be the good wife and mother of my child. Ew."

Seven hells. You scowled. Gojo Satoru and his penchant for chasing the thrill. Boring women would kill him before an actual curse would.

"And hey, for one," he shot you a smirk, visibly smug. "I can show you incredible things!"

"That's not the point! Gojo, do you even realize—" your voice rose, pulsating with righteous fury, "—how serious all of this is? My life, your life! We're going to be stuck—together!"

"Six months," he blurted, tilting his head slightly. His sunglasses slipped down just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his sparkling eyes. "It's enough time to work through our shits, and by then if you have enough, we're through."

At that time, it seemed feasible. Both of you tolerating each other to avoid a much worse match.

. . .

BACK TO PRESENT—barely a week ever since you were paraded around as his wife, now you and Satoru were stiffly poised in the studio in your formal garbs, capturing your official wedding photos.

At that time, it seemed feasible, but now, it felt like a chore, as you realized that conversing with him either spiked your blood pressure so much that you wouldn't even be surprised if you ended up with hypertension or completely sapped your energy that you were left exhausted.

"Come on, show a smiiile," Satoru said in a sing-song voice, gesturing toward the camera as it flashed for the pictures. You were beyond appalled, shooting a glare in his direction.

"I am smiling, Gojo."

"Liar. You're pouting, wifey~"

Sigh… this really is going to be one hella of a ride, huh?

MONTH ONE, and you found out that Gojo Satoru is apparently as mad as people made him out to be.

"You've got to be kidding me!" you fumed, right after he hauled you into one of the rooms in his grand, traditional estate. Your glare pierced through him, a blood vessel ready to burst. "We never agreed on ‘consummating’ the marriage!"

You wrote him a goddamn contract. And the three conditions of this chaotic marriage are: one, it would only last six months; two, no personal feelings involved; and three, nothing borderline disturbing.

And this, you concluded, was the height of what could be called as disturbing.

"We will not," Satoru replied with a hint of disdain, grimacing, as if the notion didn't sit well with him either. The audacity! "We're just going to make it as if we are—"

"And why?! Why should I do that?!"

"Why else? Because my old fart believes that we indeed haven't done so."

"Then it's your fault? For failing to convince him? Why turn it into my problem!"

"Because, dear wife," he drawled, his tone taunting on the final note. "Now we're on the same page, in case you have forgotten."

Great clans and their hollow expectations spare no one, not even Gojo Satoru. They place importance in the most banal things, such as the continuity of sacred bloodlines and such.

The only alternative wasn't appealing either. Should you be found out that you married only to divorce... sigh, you didn't even want to know how big of a scandal it would be. One thing was certain: your clan would chop you to shreds.

You really had no choice, huh?

"Five minutes," you warned, glaring at him. "Make it loud. Make it so that no one wouldn't question this anymore."

Oh and sure he would. As Satoru pulled that shit-eating grin, you were in for another ride. You waited out until several maids were nearby, left the wooden door ajar, and began the show—

His hands wrapped around your waist—the feeling was peculiar, but you ignored it—and you let him pull you near that open door. He snuggled his face on your neck—his hair tickling you in the process, but you ignored that peculiarity again—as he started making suggestive noises. "Mm, you're so pretty, darling."

You could hear those maids gasp in surprise. And to add the flavor, you faked a moan.

This is... kinda fun? A twisted part of you suddenly found satisfaction in fooling the maids. A smile tugged at your lips as you shoved him away, and Satoru eyed you in surprise and irritation.

"Husband, you're... insatiable," you worded languidly, and he immediately caught on your act, grinning. "Anyone can walk by, you know."

"Oh? But that's the point." Satoru's bright blue eyes twinkled with utter mischief, and even you couldn't deny the exhilarating rush. "I want them to know."

And suddenly you got this very brilliant idea. You swiftly moved past him and sent the books and trinkets on his desk flying to the floor, causing questionable noises.

"Oh my!" a girlish voice exclaimed.

"The master! And the lady!"

Satoru shook his head, thoroughly entertained. And you rolled your eyes. Those nosy maids would finally have enough now, and this charade would end—

"What's happening here?"

The old fart. Both you and Satoru grunted in unison. You really thought you would leave it up to the maids to spread the word, but then you were taken by surprise when he wrapped his hands around you and flung the door open, slamming you against it—and damn it hurt!—offering everyone a front-row seat to your charade.

The maids squealed. His grandfather raised a righteous, demanding eyebrow. You wanted to scream.

"Hey, gramps," he greeted jovially, breathless, his grip on you tightening and you felt heat radiating from his palm. "Ah, sorry, opened it by accident—the wife here is feisty, you see."

Your veins felt ready to burst. Was this a part of his plan all along? How would you show your face before your grandfather-in-law now that he had seen this... atrocity?!

"So, yeah, we'll resume our business!" Satoru, the idiot, said it as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "See ya!"

With that the door slammed shut, but oh no, it was not the end.

"Mmmph!?" you protested, unintentionally loud and eyes widening in alarm when Satoru muffled your mouth with his hand.

The rotten bastard! You found it nearly impossible to breathe, shooting daggers at him. "Mmmrgh! Mmmrrgh!"

"Oh... so that boy really does it huh," you heard the elder mutter in thoughtful manner from outside—and you were in disbelief at how trusting he was—before rounding the stunned maids and barked, "What are all you doing here? Go!"

You nearly sagged with relief when Satoru loosened his grip slightly, allowing you to breathe, as his meddlesome grandpa finally stalked away. Done. This horrible act was over! But wait, why did he still had his hand on your mouth?

"That went splendidly!" he snickered, appearing rather pleased with what had unfolded. "Now, if only we work together like this more often—"

This is… my life now, you lamented the reality. The feeling of his calloused hand on you made you feel things, honestly speaking, but another emotion—and impulse—currently overpowered that.

Seething with resentment, you fiercely chomped down on his hand hard, causing him to swear and pull his hand out of you.

"You—you devil! You bit me!"

"Serves you right!"

Okay, he was bad. He was insufferable. But to be frank, sometimes it wasn't all chaos.

And what's more, by MONTH TWO, you realized that being married to Gojo Satoru also comes with several perks.

"Miss, please, you're trespassing—"

You looked at the police with the haughtiest look you could muster, unamused. "Don't you know who I am?"

"No, but it shouldn't—"

"I'm that man's wife," you declared regally, motioning towards a certain tall shuttlecock a few meters away. "Is that not clear enough for you?"

For one, no one can look down on you anymore, because should they try, you have the power to raise your chin high and declare yourself as the wife of the infamous sorcerer. The very moment you did, that nosy police stopped yapping, and let you through.

The cursed boy, Yuta and his classmate had just been trapped inside a barrier a curse user pulled down, and you were assigned to look into this case by the headquarters. As much as it boggled you—because certainly, the strongest sorcerer was enough to investigate this—you still had to do your job.

“What is this?” you asked Satoru, who was observing something far beyond what your measly ordinary eyes could see. “What happened here?”

He turned to you, all with bandaged eyes. “Hmm? Oh, you’re here too?”

“Don't act surprised. Answer my question, Gojo.”

"You’re too uptight, wifey," Satoru's lips curved upwards playfully. He had taken to addressing you with pet names as of late, if anything, only to get a rise out of you. "Isn't it the time for you to start calling me by my given name?"

You let out a weary exhale, exasperated. "I'm serious, did you find anything? Who is behind this?"

"Nah, nothing for you to worry about," Satoru waved his hand dismissively, grinning. "More importantly! Let's head back and have dinner! My treat!"

You weren't that oblivious. You noticed things too.

"What do you want tonight? Sukiyaki? Sushi?" he hummed nonchalantly. "Or shabu-shabu?"

You gave him the stink eye. "Is that all you think about? Food?"

"As a responsible husband, it's my duty to feed my wife, no?"

"News flash: temporary wife."

"But still my wife, regardless. I overheard you earlier. Being Mrs. Gojo is convenient, yeah?"

You ignored how a part of your jolted at the emphasis he placed on that word, grunting. "Nah, it's meh."

Call it a feeling or hypothesis. It was similar to how he treated his students. He always said the dumbest things, but it actually served to make them feel at ease.

Then it occurred to you, could this be actually his attempt to change the subject?

"You can't cheat your way out of this." You shot him a pointed look. "You know something. Tell me."

"Hmmm? And what would I get in return?"

"Don't make this difficult. I'm on this assignment too!"

"Nah, if you call me by my name, I might consider it."

Hah. You should really read a parenting book one of these days. Taking on your husband was more or less the same as facing a kid.

"Satoru," you tested, the name rolling out of your lips far easier than you thought. Somehow, using his given name felt like some sort of a leap of faith.

He stopped right in his tracks, turning to you. His glossy lips quirked into a meaningful smile, and you felt funny.

"Wasn't that difficult, was it?" he winked, and you covered the strange heat creeping onto your face by rolling your eyes and huffed.

Needless to say, he still didn't tell you even a clue. You finally gave up, thinking that if he insisted on not disclosing it, then so be it. You trusted him on this, even as he turned your help away, and you hated admitting it, because, well…

You’d trust him with your life. He knows how to handle this better than anyone.

Being a a woman in Kamo clan is, in fact, not any better than in Zen'in—you're regarded more as a commodity than a human being.

"When will you bear the child of the bearer of Six Eyes?" in your father's eyes, you were but a tool to tie the Gojo at his hip, and your worth probably wasn't even twice of Noritoshi's. You had known he would ask this when he summoned you to Kamo ancestral home, and you weren't that naive—you had asked Satoru to join you too. But your father had insisted him to stay at the foyer, while he dragged you into his chamber.

Just because you had seen it coming didn’t mean you liked it. "Is that all? Do you really make me come here just to ask me that?"

And what came next was like a crack of thunder.

"How insolent!"

You shuddered, hating how his voice still had control over you. You wanted to stay deviant, but you couldn't keep yourself from shaking. You thought you would have to endure this shit just like you did before, until—

"Now, now... That's my wife you're talking to. I'd watch your words, if I were you."

You had never whipped your head so fast.

There stood Gojo Satoru, your husband, in all his glory. He was smiling but it was clear that he was displeased, evident from his cutting remark, and most notably, how he had unveiled his striking cerulean eyes for all to see. Truth to be told, you didn't expect him to barge in here at all.

"Gojo-sama," your father bowed his head, displaying utter respect towards him, contrasting the blatant disrespect he showed towards you just now. Satoru paid him no heed, as took big strides towards you and seized your arm, prompting you to rise to your feet.

"What is this? Why are you yelling at her?" His voice lacked its usual hint of amusement or teasing, sending a chill down your spine.

"Gojo-sama, I apologize for my tone towards my daughter earlier. I was just trying to educate—"

“My wife. She is my wife now, and it would do you better to remember that,” Satoru asserted firmly, putting emphasis in the way he addressed you, his gaze hardening. "She is an adult. There's nothing left for you to educate her." Pausing, he added, "And the way I saw it, you were just unnecessarily rude."

"Gojo-sama, there were just certain things in our clan that—"

"Please, don't call on us again," Satoru interjected decisively with a light yet firm voice. You could swear your heart was somersaulting at the sight of him staring down your natural enemy. "I'm sure you're aware, but your daughter bears my name now, and she will get the respect she is due. I will have a word with anyone who fails to treat her accordingly."

Somehow or another, Satoru whisked you away from that hellhole, your hand tightly clasped in his. Your relieved sigh didn't go unnoticed by him, as he looked back to you.

"Have you gone soft?" he teased, eyeing you with a playful snort. "Did you forget who your husband is? You've got nothing to fear. Not even him."

"Thank you," you murmured. Your heart was still pounding and your mind blanked, rendering you unable to engage in your usual banters.

His clear blue eyes widened a touch, blinking at your display of vulnerability, Then, he wore the most innocent expression, even sporting a silly smirk—the hardness from earlier gone. "I was really cool, huh? Totally made you swoon I bet."

And in MONTH THREE, you realized, as he laced his fingers with yours, as his laughter filled the air, as calmness swelled on your chest, and as you loudly snorted at his remark, that—

You felt warm, so warm, in fact, and maybe—

"Pfft, you wish."

—maybe... being with him isn't so bad after all.

MONTH FOUR, and you finally found out that it was Geto Suguru.

Everyone knew that your husband and the criminal used to be the best of friends. You saw them during your high school days, and heck, you used to think that Geto was the better man.

You could only imagine what he must feel.

. . .

When he got back to your shared house after the whole ordeal—after he ended his best friend with his own hands, Satoru honestly didn't expect that you would be waiting for him.

"You okay?" you asked him, brows furrowed in concern. It was probably one of the very few times you had displayed emotions other than contempt towards him.

It felt strange because he was used to your jabs, and he was not sure what sort of expression he should pull now, because truthfully, now he felt empty. Blank. All he comprehended was that he had killed Suguru, that he was gone, and that was something he must do.

It would be just like any other day if hadn't just committed a murder. On someone he held dear.

"Of course, who do you think I am?" Satoru swiftly replied, sounding smug—or at least tried to. "I'm the strongest. I’m unscat—"

"No, not that." You frowned, meeting his gaze squarely. "After everything."

Satoru struggled to choose how he should react, partly because most of his energy had gone after walking Yuta back and reassuring him earlier, and by default, the two of you should be hellbent on hating each other and wishing for this contract to end soon.

"Aww, are you worried about me?" he quipped with a touch of sarcasm just because he had to, to show you that it wasn't enough to ruffle him.

Because he is still the strongest, even when alone. Especially when he is alone.

You let out a sigh, looking away. "Can't I?"

"Whoa, that's sweet of—"

"Don't fool yourself," you stated in straight-laced manner, meeting his gaze with a composed expression. "You're not okay. You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did."

You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did.

Despite himself, his smile fell, and his chest burns. What is this? Were you sympathizing with him?

Does that mean that you don't see him as the entity... that was the strongest?

Before now, Satoru remembered you as the most uncooperative Kyoto girl he had ever met. Your first meeting in high school sealed your fate as the two of you could hardly get along. You didn't mince words, you didn't take shit from anyone else—heck, sometimes when he thought of you, what came up to mind was an impenetrable diamond.

Which was why he chose you. You were someone he could trust. You were pretty in the eyes and certainly wouldn't bore him either. His reasons were purely based on logic. And after four months with you, Satoru came to a conclusion that you indeed fulfilled all his expectations, if not more.

And he felt comfortable, or dare he say, secure even. He felt like he had gained a friend, who could see past his bravado and wouldn't judge him for it.

"You're..." you sighed, casting a sympathetic glance at him, your forehead slightly creased. At that moment, Satoru couldn't help but think you were incredibly endearing, fretting over him. "...an idiot."

"Heh." I really am, aren't I?

"I never knew him well..." you chose your words carefully, hesitant. "Did you try to convince him, before this?"

He barked a bitter laugh. "I did, we even made a scene in front of freaking KFC," he remarked with a scoff. "He didn't listen to me, until the very end."

You wanted to tell him “You have done everything you could” but the words faltered on your tongue. You couldn't bring yourself to say it when you saw the faint quiver of his lips, the slump of his shoulders—the very sight of a boy grieving the loss of his friend.

Your heart pricked too, somehow, seeing that expression on him. And you once again realized that your silly, exalted husband was just as human as anyone else who made him think he wasn’t.

"And you know what he said in the end?" Satoru's tone was flippant, as if asking the most normal thing around, but carried a trace of grief, evident in the slight drop in his tone if you squinted. "He said he didn't regret it, not even a bit."

"I'm sorry," was all you could manage.

Satoru's smile was lopsided. Now that he had finally accepted it, something inside him finally bleeds, and it freaking hurts. The pain gripped his chest like a swirling inferno.

But then, you boldly clasped his hand in yours, gently tracing soothing circles on its back.

"What?" he peered at you, feeling a ghost of a smile forming.

"Consider this emotional support."

And he chuckled softly. Despite the lingering ache, despite the gloom he was sure he would carry for the rest of his life, he felt the pain was more bearable with you by his side, somewhat.

How?

You blamed it on the alcohol, because it was MONTH FIVE and you were kissing Gojo Satoru, daringly.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you rasped between kisses, breathless, as your own sinful hands plucked the buttons off his shirt. The intoxication might have played a part, but the intense heat coursing through you made it hard to think straight.

Satoru crashed his lips against yours again, consumed by blind lust. "Yeah, we shouldn't," he replied in a rush. His breath was hot as he trailed his lips down your jaw and neck next, savoring the softness of your skin.

You two had attended a banquet for the elite, and you were unbelievably beautiful. Standing by his side as his wife, you drew admiring glances, with everyone marveling at what a remarkable couple you made. The Gojo heir who was born with the legendary Limitless and the Kamo heiress, as lovely as her clan's name was powerful.

His deft hands roamed the curves of your body, exploring every inch of you. The warmth of his hands tickled something inside you as you closed your eyes to sink into this very moment. Next you knew, his bare body was against yours and you were stripped out of your evening dress.

Lust flickered in his honored eyes, as he took in the sight of you in your undergarments.

"You're really pretty, you know," he whispered. The intensity with which his eyes scanned your form made you nearly squirm. "Shame we don't always get along."

"You're one to talk," you retorted, a hint of exasperation in your tone, as you willed all other thoughts away. Thoughts like what comes after this. Thoughts like—

Is it heaven or sin, if you feel both at once?

His thumb tenderly caressed your plush lips, a hint of a smirk on his beautiful face.

He has long been thinking about your body. He was but a man, after all. He just didn't expect that you wanted this too.

There was always this tension, only this time, neither of you could hold it back anymore. Perhaps it was impulse—hell, most certainly it is, but there was another thing, something more that even Gojo Satoru still didn't dare to say out loud.

"Eager, are we?" he taunted when you leaned in, yearning for the touch of his lips on yours again.

You huffed. “Shut up and kiss me.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks at the slip of those words. You were about to rectify it, taken aback by your own boldness, but then he drew you close, silencing any further protest with a gentle hush—

"Too late, sweetheart," his husky voice entered your ears, lips curling into the most wicked smile, and you were in a trance. And Satoru was once again convinced, that choosing you as his wife was the rightest thing there was.

If the two of you went with this, then there would be consequences. Things would become more complicated, harder to sort out.

But, he decided, as he captured your lips in another heated kiss, everything else can wait.

MONTH SIX, and you were dreading the day of your divorce.

You brought this upon yourself. Whenever you reminisced about that night, you wanted to smack yourself in the face and bang your head against the nearest wall.

This marriage has a time limit. And you were doing it out of convenience in the first place.

You weren't supposed to… goddammit—fall in love with him.

But what's done is done, there is no going back in time. Awkward exchanges and lingering stares had been gnawing at your insides these days, and you were sure Satoru too must have noticed them too. You two used to be more relaxed with each other, and he'd even flirt with you, but weeks ever since that night of drunken passion, you almost reverted back to your high school personas—ignoring each other.

This was tough. You didn't like this. And more than that, you were faced with a more pressuring matter...

Gojo Satoru, with everything he possessed, could have had any woman he wanted. This arrangement with you was temporary in the first place, soon he would forget you and flit to the next woman.

The thought made your heart ache, because you had involuntarily gave your heart away to him. Siiigh… What a predicament you put yourself into, huh?

With just a month left together, maybe you should just make the best of it.

. . .

If you thought that things were any better with Satoru, then you were sorely wrong because he too, was debating with himself often nowadays.

Days spent with you were fun and fulfilling. You irked expression somehow had made its mark in his heart. You were pretty, fit to be by his side publicly and preferably, behind the closed doors. With you, he didn't feel the need to carry this facade of being strong—he could be a clown tripping over his own trap and you would amuse him with your deadpan expression.

And ever since that night, he was constantly reminded by how soft your skin was against his. It almost drove him crazy now that he was deprived of it.

How was it the last month already? He wasn't ready to let you go yet.

When he got back home later after his class ended and found you in the dinner table setting the food, all he could muster was, "Hey. Haven't eaten?"

You whirled around to face him in surprise. "Oh... you're back. Just about to. Want to join me?"

Of course he would. And yet as the two of you sat down, it was so painfully awkward Satoru felt like he was dying inside.

Why couldn't he pull off a smart line or two? Where did his suaveness go? He was smoother than this, surely, with his colorful history. One night of passion was supposed to enhance the relationship, not to derail it. What happened to you both?

The salt was near his side when you reached to grab it and bumped into his hand. "Uh-oh."

Turning towards you, he found your spooked expression and your adorable eyes widening in surprise. "S-sorry..."

It was just freaking salt! Salt! Why on earth were you apologizing?!

Enough, he thought. This utter madness of being jumpy with each other. He'd start from his side.

Does he want you to keep being his wife even after all this ends? Yes.

Why? All reasons already listed above.

Does this mean he likes you? Apparently and supposedly, yes. Because if it isn't then he doesn't know what this funny feeling driving him mad is.

With that sorted out, then he only had one more thing to confirm. He put down his spoon and crossed his arms together. "Tell me the truth. Do you like living with me?"

His question obviously took you by surprise. "Huh? What brought this on?"

"Just give me an answer."

"You're so pushy," you grumbled, lips pursed, and he felt like you were finally back to your usual dynamics somewhat. Good.

"Sooo, the verdict? Do you enjoy being with me or not?"

Because to him, it was a resounding yes and more.

Ignoring the warmth that surged to your cheeks, you rolled your eyes. "Surprisingly, not bad, yeah," you admitted, mustering the courage to meet his gaze. "You're annoying, an idiot, a bit crazy—"

"Hey!"

"—but eventually you're still... manageable," you added, feeling your face truly start to sizzle. But covered it up by looking down and playing with your fingers as you still had more to go on. "What I want to say is... I'm glad that I agreed to this—with you—because I can’t imagine it with anyone else."

An unfamiliar tingling emotion rushed to his chest as his face too started to heat up, letting your words sink in. Is he blushing? Oh God. He sure is. And so did he feel hella giddy.

Then it’s sealed.

Suddenly he procured a piece of paper from his work uniform and showed it to you. You first saw his lazily scrawled signature before it dawned on you.

The contract. You almost forgot that you made him sign that looming piece of paper. You were almost dismayed, thinking that he would end this right then and there, but then—

“Well, then… I suppose we no longer need this.”

Riiip~

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when Gojo Satoru tore out your contract right in front of your face, the most brilliant of his devilish grin adorned his handsome face, as he took of his blindfold to see you far clearly than ever. Heavens, you are cute, he thought.

“Soooo~ seems like you’re stuck with me from now on!”

You gaped, awestruck at the blatant meaning of it all, feeling how your heartbeat started to pick up the pace, when he pulled the rag out of your feet once more by tilting his head to the side, looking at you with a winning smile.

“Let’s start over! What did they say again? Ah, yeah. Here’s to the first day of our lives!”

[scribiel]

Scrunity is one of your way of loving

Satoru Gojo x fem!reader, written in first person (reader's pov), reader is sick and satoru's worried but still tryin to hide it, fluff

[scribiel]

Well ... i had to ... rub the salt to the injury 🥹🤣 thaank you for reading and coming by!! 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

NIGHTIANGLES

Jujutsu Kaisen! Satoru Gojo x fem! reader

tags: Satoru Gojo x fem! reader, angst, illicit affairs, forbidden relationship, cheating, reader and satoru had a forbidden relationship, set up in a higher society, written in letter form/epistolary

To you, who sat beneath the gleaming golden sunlight; 

Implicit because it was all nothing but illicit.

To you, my other half,

I always thought living in lowkey was never the key. I loved writing in capital letters, shouting and screaming, declaring in high volumes, painting with bright colors. I loved the spotlight. But everything changed once I met you at the auction. It was supposed to stop there. Right after I won it. But we met again at the charity event, and all I knew was your parents had set you up with someone else. Same with mine. A typical thing that happened in an elite society.  

And then at the masquerade. Beautiful room colliding with those beautiful blue horizon wide glassy eyes of yours was something I wasn’t prepared for. It all began again with a simple dance and small talk; coffee or tea; hot or cold turned into a cascade of events. Including the ‘I didn’t know my soon-to-be-fiance-picked-by-my-parents would be there too’ event. I ran outside because he was calling me a whore for dancing with you (even though he called me in private, it still broke my heart). Then, fate arranged for us to meet at the garden. How you gave me your tux because it was cold, I was cold. You threw these stupid jokes about how ugly his nose was, how bad his tux was, how I could’ve had someone better than him. And I laughed.

You made me laugh.

We met again. Un or fortunately, we met too many times. We got too comfortable with each other.  How your hands sent me condolences because I was stupidly fighting with my boyfriend, turned into the hands who gave me affection, scrutiny to check all my underlying injuries, and the hands that should’ve never held me. 

The night you made me yours, marked me permanently, was also the night I hoped time could’ve stood still. I hoped the comfort you gave me wouldn’t be washed away in the morning. You should know, when you spinned me around in your apartment, and then you pressed the longest kiss into my temples, whispered, “I wanna marry you.”

It was also the moment you lit up all my hopes, built my dreams, and started a war between love and duty. So I laughed. “Do you think it will be possible?”

And you said it, certainly, “I’d give anything in my power to make you mine. I swear this to you.”

Oh Satoru, that moment made me sure that I could give everything up for you, for us. I could’ve ripped my heart out and put it in your hands as an evidence of love. But we kept going in spite of the disagreement from everyone. Threats after threats, we kept knitting our threads of love in the dark. Where no one could see, could notice. But for once, I was okay to live in a lowkey, write in lowercase, whisper as declaration, and paint with pale colors. I hated the spotlight, because that was the only place I shouldn’t be seen with you. Every glance we made in between the crowds, every time our hands brushed against each other, every casual ‘oh-I-ran-into-you-at-the-parking-lot’ … they were all implicit silent forms of affection. I hoped the crowds, the mass, my and your parents wouldn’t notice the sparkles in the air, and the moment our eyes lit up each time they met. 

Terrifying, how I wanted to reach someone who bathed under such beautiful light, but the world had forbidden me to reach it. To reach you. So in the end, my hands were tied. I was so scared that what if I couldn't have done anything but watched love slip beyond our reach. I watched you, love, and us slipped away. But you firmly said, “That’s not gonna happen, I won’t let it.”

My fears turned into nightmares. I had nightmares about losing you, so I prayed. All the sacred prayers only because I was scared to lose you, to lose all my sweet dreams. But I forgot that nightmares were dreams as well. All my sacred prayers brought me nothing but nightmares turned into realities. And my hopes were burned, turned into ashes. 

I grasped everything that was left (I would never return your sweater that you left in my apartment), I wanted to hold it for the rest of my life. I held it every night, searching and reminiscing about you. 

Losing my chances, all my dreams and hopes were buried deep by the avalanche the moment I heard you got married. So then I sat on the floor, and came to realize that all those hopes, those fairytales that kept me awake at night with shimmering hopes upon my eyes were sung by the nightingales. They would never be heard when the sun came up, only meant to be a folktale to nobody but us, the lovers in the night. 

Even now, your sweater is the only thing that gets me through the night, the thing that I keep like a sacred oath. 

P.s. Do memories flow into your brain each time you call your daughter? If they do, then you are forever cursed for naming your only daughter after me.

From me, who wanted to bath beneath the gleaming golden sunlight with you; 

From me, your other half

[scribiel]

Oh my 🥹 you are making me smile!! Thank you for coming by 🫶🏻

NIGHTIANGLES

Jujutsu Kaisen! Satoru Gojo x fem! reader

tags: Satoru Gojo x fem! reader, angst, illicit affairs, forbidden relationship, cheating, reader and satoru had a forbidden relationship, set up in a higher society, written in letter form/epistolary

To you, who sat beneath the gleaming golden sunlight; 

Implicit because it was all nothing but illicit.

To you, my other half,

I always thought living in lowkey was never the key. I loved writing in capital letters, shouting and screaming, declaring in high volumes, painting with bright colors. I loved the spotlight. But everything changed once I met you at the auction. It was supposed to stop there. Right after I won it. But we met again at the charity event, and all I knew was your parents had set you up with someone else. Same with mine. A typical thing that happened in an elite society.  

And then at the masquerade. Beautiful room colliding with those beautiful blue horizon wide glassy eyes of yours was something I wasn’t prepared for. It all began again with a simple dance and small talk; coffee or tea; hot or cold turned into a cascade of events. Including the ‘I didn’t know my soon-to-be-fiance-picked-by-my-parents would be there too’ event. I ran outside because he was calling me a whore for dancing with you (even though he called me in private, it still broke my heart). Then, fate arranged for us to meet at the garden. How you gave me your tux because it was cold, I was cold. You threw these stupid jokes about how ugly his nose was, how bad his tux was, how I could’ve had someone better than him. And I laughed.

You made me laugh.

We met again. Un or fortunately, we met too many times. We got too comfortable with each other.  How your hands sent me condolences because I was stupidly fighting with my boyfriend, turned into the hands who gave me affection, scrutiny to check all my underlying injuries, and the hands that should’ve never held me. 

The night you made me yours, marked me permanently, was also the night I hoped time could’ve stood still. I hoped the comfort you gave me wouldn’t be washed away in the morning. You should know, when you spinned me around in your apartment, and then you pressed the longest kiss into my temples, whispered, “I wanna marry you.”

It was also the moment you lit up all my hopes, built my dreams, and started a war between love and duty. So I laughed. “Do you think it will be possible?”

And you said it, certainly, “I’d give anything in my power to make you mine. I swear this to you.”

Oh Satoru, that moment made me sure that I could give everything up for you, for us. I could’ve ripped my heart out and put it in your hands as an evidence of love. But we kept going in spite of the disagreement from everyone. Threats after threats, we kept knitting our threads of love in the dark. Where no one could see, could notice. But for once, I was okay to live in a lowkey, write in lowercase, whisper as declaration, and paint with pale colors. I hated the spotlight, because that was the only place I shouldn’t be seen with you. Every glance we made in between the crowds, every time our hands brushed against each other, every casual ‘oh-I-ran-into-you-at-the-parking-lot’ … they were all implicit silent forms of affection. I hoped the crowds, the mass, my and your parents wouldn’t notice the sparkles in the air, and the moment our eyes lit up each time they met. 

Terrifying, how I wanted to reach someone who bathed under such beautiful light, but the world had forbidden me to reach it. To reach you. So in the end, my hands were tied. I was so scared that what if I couldn't have done anything but watched love slip beyond our reach. I watched you, love, and us slipped away. But you firmly said, “That’s not gonna happen, I won’t let it.”

My fears turned into nightmares. I had nightmares about losing you, so I prayed. All the sacred prayers only because I was scared to lose you, to lose all my sweet dreams. But I forgot that nightmares were dreams as well. All my sacred prayers brought me nothing but nightmares turned into realities. And my hopes were burned, turned into ashes. 

I grasped everything that was left (I would never return your sweater that you left in my apartment), I wanted to hold it for the rest of my life. I held it every night, searching and reminiscing about you. 

Losing my chances, all my dreams and hopes were buried deep by the avalanche the moment I heard you got married. So then I sat on the floor, and came to realize that all those hopes, those fairytales that kept me awake at night with shimmering hopes upon my eyes were sung by the nightingales. They would never be heard when the sun came up, only meant to be a folktale to nobody but us, the lovers in the night. 

Even now, your sweater is the only thing that gets me through the night, the thing that I keep like a sacred oath. 

P.s. Do memories flow into your brain each time you call your daughter? If they do, then you are forever cursed for naming your only daughter after me.

From me, who wanted to bath beneath the gleaming golden sunlight with you; 

From me, your other half

[scribiel]

The Sound of Love

Jujutsu Kaisen! Satoru Gojo x fem! reader tags: Satoru Gojo x fem! reader, angst, major character death, grief, a bit suggestive

Few months ago my friend asked me, “What do you think love sounds like?”. So I shook my head and replied, “Like love songs?” 

But to think about it, Satoru, I think love sounds like: 

First, it sounds like someone’s opening a melon soda can in the middle of movie night. Where I can hear you walking and opening the fridge; the clink sound from the can; and how satisfied you sound from the carbonated drink. It’s quite weird, for it’s late at night yet your eyes shine so bright; so little of light, yet so bright. That I think the stars would be jealous because I get so lost and captivated in your eyes more than I do in those stars.

Second, it sounds like the splattered water you always make whenever we are in the bathtub together. Your giggles and mine clash one another along with the water, making it sounds like a very childish activity. But whatever it is, it makes me at ease. A friend; a child; two grown adults who share responsibilities; whatever we are or we are like, as long as I am with you, I enjoy it most.

Third, it sounds like your whines. Your morning whines to be precise. You always protest that I got up a bit too early. You always say you don’t mind about the breakfast that’ll come a little too late. Yet not long after you —from behind— put your arms around me and rest your chin upon my shoulder, your stomach makes a sound. 

Fourth, sometimes, it sounds like your snore, which you usually don’t snore, but whenever the day is too much for you; you do. Sometimes it wakes me up in the middle of the night. It’s not like I mind about it, because I can stare at the face that God took time in the making. Every curve is so divine. 

Fifth, and most importantly, it sounds like a rhythm. Every now and then, we love doing it, like right now: I put my head upon your left chest, allowing me to feel the warmth from your body. I can hear the beeping sound from the air conditioner remote; you are lowering the room temperature. 

“Do you really have to?”

You reply, “Yes. Because”—there’s a mischievous glint in your eyes— “with the low room temperature, we can cuddle without feeling hot way too early, that’ll lead into a short time of hugging each other. And I hate it.”

I can see the silver band around your ring finger, which brings a smile across my face and an ease of feelings all over my senses. So, I put my arm around your body. I can feel your arms around mine, pulling me closer. 

As I melt into your embrace, I ask you, “Do you wanna know what the sound of love sounds like?” 

Carelessly, you answer, “Like whenever we make love and our moanings are combined together?”

I laugh. “No,” —I put my palm on your chest, next to your beating heart— “it sounds like your heartbeat.”

Then the silence fills the room. You don’t give an immediate response. It must’ve been quite shocking for you to process. I think you are lost in your emotion, or my words have just given you an ick. But then you say, “Oh … Oh my God.” 

I can feel your hold getting tighter as you say, “I don’t know what to say, but thank you.”

“I love you,” you say.

“I love you,” you repeat that. “I love you.”

But then I open my eyes. I feel the blanket wrapping around my body; pillows that I staked with each other  earlier so I can sleep better; and I feel no heartbeat to hear, no arms to hold, and one beating heart but it’s blue and broken. I grab your ring—that now I put on as a pendant on my necklace— and put it in between my lips. The cold sensation helps me to grasp every memory, that I hope I won't forget, of you. 

I remember we talked about a situation, more like my nightmare. We talked about what would happen if one of us died first. But I didn't know how the talk became revolving around you, your passing. 

I insisted while standing, “I’ll follow you to the afterlife.”

You shook your head. “Don’t you dare. Move on. Live your life.”

I crossed my arms and said, “Even if that happened. I don’t think I would ever love someone else anymore.”

You, sitting on the sofa, pulled me by my waist closer. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

I wasn’t brave enough to look into your eyes. “Yes…?”

You put your arms around my waist  then hugged me. I could feel the sadness from how firm you were holding me. "I … don't say that you’d never move on ... I understand that you will still love me, long after my passing. But that also means you'll miss the chances to find people who can love you just as much as I love you, people who will make you happy in ways I'm not sure I was able to make you happy too.”

Right now, I am ashamed of myself, because I can’t. I just can’t. I can’t allow myself to move on. Please forgive me, Satoru. I think I can continue my life, fill it with activities to kill some time until I see you again, but I don’t think I can love again. Because even if I do that, I’ll only lie to myself and put myself in misery, and second best is all I will ever know for the rest of my life. What If I kiss others, but my lips can only taste and remember the taste of your lips. What if he pulls me in, but I curse myself because it’s not your embrace that I’ll be in. What if it’s not you? How selfish of me, but I want you and only you, because it’s you, whom my heart calls for every night. 

Satoru, sleep has become my favorite activity these past few weeks, because I can meet you in my dream. So come and visit me often, for I’ll be waiting. 

I wish I could drift to dream and be with you again for a moment, but the sun has risen and my alarm will ring in a few minutes. Don’t worry, your ring will always be hanging from the chain around my neck. Don’t worry, I am doing fine, or that’s what I think. 

But please, seriously, don’t worry. I may not be able to hear the sound of love any time soon, but I hope I can remember it for the rest of my time walking on earth.

[scribiel]

thank you is also a form of saying i love you

Jujutsu Kaisen! Suguru Geto x fem! reader tags: Suguru Geto x fem! reader, fluff, established relationship, mentions of insecurities (suguru's feeling a little insecure), written in first person (reader's) point of view

Suguru, when you told me, “I have flaws, it’s weird you know … to know that you are okay with that.” 

I stopped folding my laundry and took a look at you. “We are human, Suguru. There’s no way we can be an all rounder, no sharp edges kind of thing, Suguru.”

You laughed; I heard the bitterness in the air. “I know, Love. But you understand that sometimes, even if it’s not possible, we want to be perfect for our loved ones?”

I nodded. “I understand, Suguru”—I looked up at the ceiling—”I remember you really loved the mirrorball at our senior prom.”

You answered, “I do recall.”

I shifted my gaze at you. “You said it was so beautiful.”

“I did. Indeed.”

“Mirrorball is a sphere-like object. It’s almost a round thing, but almost. It’s not smooth; it has sharp edges, but it’s beautiful. Whatever it reflects, it’s beautiful. It may not be a perfect thing, but to its surroundings, it’s beautiful.”

You stopped for a while, eyes widened a little, and then a chuckle slipped out and heard in the air. “You remember I love mirrorball. That’s so very sweet.”

And then, there was a wave of delightness washed over me. You smiled as you added, “I only love the mirrorball and thought it was pretty because I saw you in that dress, under the flashy light of mirrorball. You were looking for me. It was beautiful. You are beautiful.”

Suddenly, I felt like the air had escaped my lungs, I choked on my own saliva. Funny. But it caught me off guard. Oh Suguru, now you must know that. I can associate you with many beautiful things to ever exist on earth, but none of them can actually represent and match the beauty you bear; soul, physical, and mind. 

Maybe because beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but let me tell you something: that you are pretty like sunset. Not the bright sunset, but the soft orange that comes along with gray clouds. And I am only the surface of the sea; for what all I am, is only able to reflect the magnificent view of yours. 

You and loving you feel so phenomenal. 

Like the rain on a summer day; raindrops under the beaming golden sun. It’s captivating. And when with you, I never not want to dance in the rain. Spinning in my best dress. And later, the golden sunray is scattered from the raindrops, and then comes many colors. Rainbow. Sometimes more; it’s so colorful, that whenever I shift my gaze, the colors are there. All of them at once. Iridescent. 

Like seeing roses bloom upon the cold white snow. It’s so distinct that no one on earth can question what lies before their eyes. No one on earth will question the love I have for you. 

You were born in February, you are the beginning to the ending of the cold, harsh, and ruthless winter. You bring spring into my life. Melting my frozen heart. You are the beginning of spring. Then, as the ice melts,  you can hear the river flowing; you can walk with a light coat with flowers and greens before your eyes; you can feel something so close to home, and then all you know is you are home. 

Although I have put you on a pedestal, you put me on something higher, perhaps you put a present on my altar, perhaps you think of me as something so deity when you say, “But you are more beautiful. No, let me correct that”—you make your way to me, putting your arms around my body; making me feel so many things, but the only thing that comes up in my head is home, because I am home, somewhere safe and sound—”you are the most beautiful thing. And I could never thank you enough. So, Love, thank you.”

I kiss your cheek gently, then whisper into your ear, “I love you too.”

[scribiel]

NIGHTIANGLES

Jujutsu Kaisen! Satoru Gojo x fem! reader

tags: Satoru Gojo x fem! reader, angst, illicit affairs, forbidden relationship, cheating, reader and satoru had a forbidden relationship, set up in a higher society, written in letter form/epistolary

To you, who sat beneath the gleaming golden sunlight; 

Implicit because it was all nothing but illicit.

To you, my other half,

I always thought living in lowkey was never the key. I loved writing in capital letters, shouting and screaming, declaring in high volumes, painting with bright colors. I loved the spotlight. But everything changed once I met you at the auction. It was supposed to stop there. Right after I won it. But we met again at the charity event, and all I knew was your parents had set you up with someone else. Same with mine. A typical thing that happened in an elite society.  

And then at the masquerade. Beautiful room colliding with those beautiful blue horizon wide glassy eyes of yours was something I wasn’t prepared for. It all began again with a simple dance and small talk; coffee or tea; hot or cold turned into a cascade of events. Including the ‘I didn’t know my soon-to-be-fiance-picked-by-my-parents would be there too’ event. I ran outside because he was calling me a whore for dancing with you (even though he called me in private, it still broke my heart). Then, fate arranged for us to meet at the garden. How you gave me your tux because it was cold, I was cold. You threw these stupid jokes about how ugly his nose was, how bad his tux was, how I could’ve had someone better than him. And I laughed.

You made me laugh.

We met again. Un or fortunately, we met too many times. We got too comfortable with each other.  How your hands sent me condolences because I was stupidly fighting with my boyfriend, turned into the hands who gave me affection, scrutiny to check all my underlying injuries, and the hands that should’ve never held me. 

The night you made me yours, marked me permanently, was also the night I hoped time could’ve stood still. I hoped the comfort you gave me wouldn’t be washed away in the morning. You should know, when you spinned me around in your apartment, and then you pressed the longest kiss into my temples, whispered, “I wanna marry you.”

It was also the moment you lit up all my hopes, built my dreams, and started a war between love and duty. So I laughed. “Do you think it will be possible?”

And you said it, certainly, “I’d give anything in my power to make you mine. I swear this to you.”

Oh Satoru, that moment made me sure that I could give everything up for you, for us. I could’ve ripped my heart out and put it in your hands as an evidence of love. But we kept going in spite of the disagreement from everyone. Threats after threats, we kept knitting our threads of love in the dark. Where no one could see, could notice. But for once, I was okay to live in a lowkey, write in lowercase, whisper as declaration, and paint with pale colors. I hated the spotlight, because that was the only place I shouldn’t be seen with you. Every glance we made in between the crowds, every time our hands brushed against each other, every casual ‘oh-I-ran-into-you-at-the-parking-lot’ … they were all implicit silent forms of affection. I hoped the crowds, the mass, my and your parents wouldn’t notice the sparkles in the air, and the moment our eyes lit up each time they met. 

Terrifying, how I wanted to reach someone who bathed under such beautiful light, but the world had forbidden me to reach it. To reach you. So in the end, my hands were tied. I was so scared that what if I couldn't have done anything but watched love slip beyond our reach. I watched you, love, and us slipped away. But you firmly said, “That’s not gonna happen, I won’t let it.”

My fears turned into nightmares. I had nightmares about losing you, so I prayed. All the sacred prayers only because I was scared to lose you, to lose all my sweet dreams. But I forgot that nightmares were dreams as well. All my sacred prayers brought me nothing but nightmares turned into realities. And my hopes were burned, turned into ashes. 

I grasped everything that was left (I would never return your sweater that you left in my apartment), I wanted to hold it for the rest of my life. I held it every night, searching and reminiscing about you. 

Losing my chances, all my dreams and hopes were buried deep by the avalanche the moment I heard you got married. So then I sat on the floor, and came to realize that all those hopes, those fairytales that kept me awake at night with shimmering hopes upon my eyes were sung by the nightingales. They would never be heard when the sun came up, only meant to be a folktale to nobody but us, the lovers in the night. 

Even now, your sweater is the only thing that gets me through the night, the thing that I keep like a sacred oath. 

P.s. Do memories flow into your brain each time you call your daughter? If they do, then you are forever cursed for naming your only daughter after me.

From me, who wanted to bath beneath the gleaming golden sunlight with you; 

From me, your other half