#Satoru Gojo x female oc

[lovedrunkheadcanons]

Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Fic) Read on AO3

Rated M

My Dearest Duch,

I come with the most splendid news. After some thinking, I have decided to spend holiday in Tokyo next week and will be paying you a visit. How marvellous! I know it’s been a while, so why don’t we catch up over a nice cup of tea. I’ll write later in lieu of my arrival. Keep the kettle on for me.

Till then, Butch (C.T.) XoXoX

Hannah’s eyes hungrily re-read the letter for the fourth consecutive time at breakfast. The parchment was dated three days ago, but she wondered whether there was a mistake. It had been almost two years since they last spoke with each other. Why on God’s green earth would Cressida want to see her? Here, in Japan of all places? Hannah was flummoxed. Her whole life she had been tossed around Europe like a crumpled brown paper parcel, constantly hopping from one dilapidated convent to the next, hidden away from the world, and not once had her cousin come to visit her, much less pick up a pen and write a letter, but there it was. In her hand. ‘Duch’ and ‘Butch.’ Blimey, those were names she hadn’t heard in ages.

“Are you feeling alright, ma’am?” Makoto said, genuine concern in her tone. “Is the food not to your liking?”

Hannah looked up at the housekeeper setting down a fresh pot of coffee and hurriedly folded up the letter, slipping it back inside its Graveur linen envelope, the two Thames sirens waxed in the center.

“Oh, no, not at all, Makoto-san,” Hannah said, a little startled. She gave the housekeeper a small smile. “The food is quite good. Delicious even. No need to make a fuss.”

“A fuss?” Satoru yawned, at last emerging from the hallway. “Better not be a fuss.”

Hannah watched the Six Eyes wielder stride into the parlor and kneel down at the low table, rubbing his tired eyelids. It was officially late June. Unlike most mornings when he came in wearing a plain tee and sweatpants, Satoru had chosen instead to wear a loose fitting, dark ebony yukata, a matching obi tied around his waist. The weather bring hot, there was no nagajuban. The front showed off his bare neck and collarbone rather handsomely.

Then she saw his eyes land on the envelope.

“What’s that?”

Hannah grew tense.

“N-Nothing,” she lied, her eyes deflecting off his collarbone, and hid the opened parchment under the table on her lap (as though he couldn’t see). “Lady Inumaki has invited me over for lunch again. That’s all.”

Satoru let out a soft grunt, and began piling his bowl with rice and strips of raw tuna, dropping the topic. Makoto poured coffee into his mug. He took a bite of food and glanced timidly at his wife sitting across.

“So…How’d you sleep last night?”

Hannah met his gaze and quickly shied away.

“Fine,” she answered. “You?”

Satoru also looked down, shrugging.

“Fine.”

They were both liars. Truth was neither of them had gotten any sleep. Following the kiss, the train ride home had been excruciatingly awkward and their conversation brief. All they managed to get in wordwise was a quick “Goodnight” before dashing inside their respective rooms. The awkwardness had yet to settle, turning almost frigid. Like a giant wall of ice had been forcibly wedged between them, impossible to break. They were no better than strangers.

Their odd behavior made Makoto uneasy as she prepared breakfast, but the housekeeper hadn’t the slightest inclination what was going on. Her young master and mistress had been getting along so well lately. What could’ve caused such a disturbance?

Taking a couple bites of rice, Satoru fiddled with his plate and coughed into his fist.

“I’ve been assigned another mission.”

Hannah looked up. “Oh? Where to?”

“Okinawa. There’s been another curse sighting.” He said this with the least amount of enthusiasm. “My flight leaves this afternoon. I could be gone awhile, so you and Makoto will be in charge of things till I get back.”

Hannah bowed her head, looking at the table. “I see.”

“You sure you’ll be alright?”

She shrugged. “It’s no different from all the other times. Makoto and I will manage fine on our own.”

Satoru gave a nod. “I’ll have my cell. If you need me for any reason —”

“Don’t hesitate to call,” Hannah finished, having heard this speech a thousand times, but she struggled to hide her disappointment. “But do hurry back, please.”

Satoru couldn’t help but chuckle. “Aw, why so glum, Princess? I thought you’d be happy having the place to yourself again.”

Rather than laugh along with his joke, Hannah shook her head and went back to eating her meal.

“It isn’t the same without you here.”

There were a million and one ways to interpret that single sentence, but they weren’t going to discuss it then, choosing instead to finish their breakfast in relative, albeit less awkward, silence.

The kiss was not brought up.

With Satoru gone, Cressida arrived at the Gojo estate not two days later.

“Duch!” she cried gaily, rushing to take off her shoes after Hannah’s polite request (those heels would ruin the tatami). Elegant in an eau-de-nil Chanel suit and bowler hat, Cressida set down her bulky looking briefcase and purse, her many charm bracelets jangling like bells, and kissed her young cousin on both cheeks. “My, I guess what they say isn’t true. You really can make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”

The sorcerer's wife tried not to wince at the backhanded compliment and wished Satoru was there with her. While the rift between them had not abated, his presence would’ve been a great comfort because Cressida hadn’t changed one bit it seemed; posh, beautiful, and conceited as ever. Her ‘sow’s ear’ comment was in reference to the kimono. Hannah had chosen a tsumugi instead of a yukata. While the jacquarded silk wouldn’t keep her cool from the summer heat, it would, with any luck, leave an indelible impression on Cressida, who wasn’t shy about her love of expensive clothing. The kimono itself was light blue and covered head to toe in paisley motifs, while a black fukuro obi, filigreed with gold medallions and phoenixes, secured her waistline. The combination was pleasing, but more formal than necessary, yet somehow Hannah knew her cousin wouldn’t know enough about Japanese customs to call her out on it. As the cherry on top, Makoto suggested she wear a pair of dainty Georgian style earrings, plated in gold.

“Cressida,” Hannah greeted apprehensively, finding it strange she no longer had to curtsy when addressing her cousin. “I hope your flight wasn’t long.”

Lady Cressida shriveled her nose. “My flight was dreadful, thank you for asking. I tried convincing Papa I take another boat, but naturally he said no. Seems he has forgotten a Thames’ place is in the water, not the air.” Smoothing her skirt, she walked over to the Jakuchū painting of the Gojo family tree, looking interested, but was unable to read the gold kanji scrawled along the branches. She then turned around to look back at Hannah and clapped her hands together. “Anywho, show me around this charming little house of yours, Duch. I want the full royal tour.”

Hannah led Cressida through the many washi-paneled rooms and rush-covered hallways, giving more or less the same history lesson Makoto had given her when she first entered the ‘little’ samurai house. She showed her the kamidana room housing the bronzed Buddhist altar, the English dining room, the reception hall decorated with the tokonoma alcove and three katana swords whose hilts were carved of jade. However Cressida, like a military sergeant blessed with a watchmaker’s eye for detail, took her time inspecting Hannah’s closet, checking to see it ticked all the essential boxes. She went through each rack and drawer one by one, making selections, taking careful notes, before finishing her inspection with a curt, “Yes, I suppose these will do.”

The wardrobe having passed the test, the two women put their shoes back on and enjoyed a short promenade around the gardens, and as they walked, Cressida shared with Hannah her recent travels. She had sailed many oceans, yachting at Monaco then South Africa then finally Thailand, spending her year on a never-ending holiday, with exception to her recent flight to Japan. “I’m staying at the Seiyo Ginza,” she dolefully carried on. “Have you heard of it? I found their wine selections most superb.” Hannah said no, doubting the hotel Cressida was residing at was cheap. If it wasn’t £1,500 a night and over five stars, then her cousin wanted no part in it.

Makoto had tea and a light meal waiting for them in the reception hall. Kneeling at a low table, Hannah could better appreciate Cressida’s new haircut. Her once long raven locks had been shorn into a chic bob, the edges curling around her face, making her look like a 1920s flapper. The Chanel suit only enhanced the effect. “Oh, can’t tell you how relieved I was to chop it all off,” she delighted, looking through the end of a compact mirror as she reapplied her favorite red lipstick. Cressida had no qualms being fawned over and adored. “Always hated having long hair.” She smashed her lips together and placed the rouge back in her purse. “That bloody harp.”

Hannah visibly perked up. “You brought it with you?

Cressida closed the lid of her mirror in dramatic fashion and rolled her bewitching blue eyes. “Of course I brought it with me. I'm its keeper now, aren’t I?” She traded in her compact mirror for an enameled cigarette case. “By the way, do you mind if I have a light? I know the Japanese aren’t antagonistic towards smoking.”

With some reluctance, Hannah gave Cressida the go ahead to light her cigarette. The tobacco leaves were infused with cloves, emitting an incense-like aroma, snapping and crackling from the flame. Apparently they were a popular brand from Indonesia, but Hannah slid open a second partition wall in case the fragrance lingered. Makoto would have a fit.

“And Atticus?” she said upon sitting back down. “Have you heard from him at all?”

Cressida sighed insouciantly and took a generous drag. “Last I spoke with my brother, he was in Egypt. You remember that archeological dig they uncovered back in March, the one believing to be Queen Nefertiti’s lost tomb? Made international news?” She pointed her cigarette at Hannah. “That was Atticus. As you can imagine, Papa was quite pleased, but he’s never satisfied for long after a heist. Sent him to South America to begin scavenging the Pacific for shipwrecks. I assume that’s where he is now, but who knows. We don’t talk much these days.”

The Thames heiress reached for a lone plate and flicked her ashes on it, and Hannah saw one of the many charms on her bracelets, the initials V.A. dangling from a gold chain next to a lock and key. Sympathy welled within her. She said the next sentence aloud without thinking.

“I’m sorry about Vera.”

Cressida's body ceased all functionality, her complexion turning pale like a dead person’s.

The room became quiet, save for the ticking of the clock. Perhaps she’d been over analyzing, but Hannah swore she saw her cousin’s bottom lip quiver for a second, then stiffen in a hard line. Cressida knew how to keep her emotions in check, but those pained blue eyes staring back at her were the eyes of someone who had experienced an unbearable loss. Hannah regretted her words.

“Gosh, I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No!” Cressida snapped out of her stupor and took her cousin’s hand. “Please, I want to talk about her…I…I don’t do it enough honestly.”

The story was a sad one. Lady Vera Avery was one of the sorcerers who died at the Louvre last October alongside Ivan Lebowitz. She was Lord Belgaven’s only daughter and Cressida’s best friend since childhood, however Hannah discovered the true nature of their relationship by accident, on the night of Cressida’s coming-out ball.

Wasserton, with its Roman colonnades and grand marble staircases, had been a product of the late 18th century sometime before the Napoleonic Era. Alexander Thames II had been the genius behind its construction, and being a brilliant architect, had incorporated a bevy of secret passageways and tunnels that connected possibly every room and cranny, including the servant’s bedroom Hannah resided during her visits. She had found the hidden door under the rug at six years old. Fast forward eight years later when Hannah was again staying at Wasserton - by then her third visit - she had used the same hidden door to sneak around the mansion and watch the opulent ball happening downstairs. Like Cinderella trapped in the cellar, she had not been allowed to attend.

High above where no one could see her, Hannah watched the opulent party from the air vents. She hummed dreamily to the music as lords and ladies waltzed and fox-trotted effortlessly around the ballroom, diamonds sparkling, flasks of champagne bubbling, laughter and merriment being had. There was an endless flow of conversation milling about which greatly excited Hannah. She paid rapturous attention to the young gentleman asking the young debutantes to dance and tried imagining a world where Elizabeth Thames had not lost her virtue to an unnamed man. Then perhaps a dashing young suitor would be asking her for a dance. Sadly, it was not to be.

At the stroke of midnight, Hannah made the lonely return to her room by candlelight but soon encountered a bump in the road. Apparently, she was not the only one scurrying around the walls like a mouse that night. Someone else was utilizing the tunnels too.

And it wasn’t merely to snoop.

Hannah would’ve avoided them if she could, but the two debs were blocking her way. Caught in a rush of passion, they had already stripped themselves of their gowns, white chiffon piled on the floor, tiaras slipping off, lips locked in a searing kiss, under the pretense they were alone. They were not.

Vera spotted Hannah first and froze like a deer in the headlights, parting quickly from her lover.

“What is it, love? What’s the matter?” Cressida turned around to see her cousin standing there, staring wide-eyed and .

The cat was officially out of the bag.

Like members of an exclusionary club, the British haut monde bestowed nicknames to each other, a simple way of indicating who was in and who was out. Few questioned why Cressida went by the name “Butch,” naively assuming it had something to do with her expertise sporting a hunter’s rifle, or her passion for equestrianism, or the cavalier way she held her cigarette, acting more tomboy than ‘posh girl.’ Lady Cressida Thames? A lesbian? Why, don’t be ridiculous. She didn’t fit the stereotype. Her raven black hair was far too long and lusciously curled. Her clothes, ultra feminine with nothing less than Parisian couture and three-inch heels, face dolled in a full head of makeup to accentuate her tempting blue eyes, which she used to flirt with the men almost as much as she did the women. Stunningly beautiful. This in mind, no one suspected Cressida’s sexuality to be anything other than straight. The nickname “Butch” was nothing more than a bit of harmless fun, an inside joke, a gaff.

Ah, but looks can be deceiving.

While she may have had every reason, Hannah did not rat out Cressida to her uncle, and in doing so had formed a secret alliance. That was also around the time Cressida began calling her “Duch.” She meant it as a term of endearment, and Hannah understood that now, but there was a time when she took it as an insult. An illegitimate, Hannah would never become a duchess or inherit a title. So when it was revealed that she was to marry the Gojo heir and not Cressida, Hannah thought her uncle had gone barking mad. Cressida Thames was his only daughter and pressed with every advantage; looks, money, prestige, and more importantly, magic. She had all the ingredients required of a sorcerer’s wife. It was expectant upon her to marry well, and perhaps that was what Lord Thames had up his sleeve. Sorcerer families needed heirs to keep the bloodlines going. For his daughter, that meant female lovers were out of the question, making the circumstances surrounding Vera’s death almost too suspect to ignore.

“My father did it. I know he did,” Cressida said bitterly, jaw clenched. “He knew Vera wouldn’t survive the mission and persuaded the Association to send her anyway.” Her hands balled into fists. “Someone betrayed us.”

“Not me,” Hannah blurted without meaning. “It wasn’t me, I promise.”

Cressida offered her cousin a strained smile. “No, Duch. I know it wasn’t you, but you see,” she swallowed the lump in her throat and took a staggered breath, “Vera was my everything, and now that she’s dead I feel lost. My one great happiness is gone.”

Hannah solemnly bowed her head. Much could be said about sin and damnation, about marriage belonging solely to one man and one woman, the New Testament and the Old. Hannah knew all the theological arguments, she knew Matthew 19 and Mark 10, but she also knew God was love. And if God was love, then was it right to suggest that those who abided in love, also abided in God? Did Cressida’s unwavering love for Vera amount to anything? Hannah often pondered these questions, but kept them buried in her heart. Now was not the time for philosophizing.

“I’m sorry, Cressida.” she said, but knowing what else to say. “I truly am.”

Cressida unfurled a handkerchief and wiped an escaped tear from her eye.

“Yes, well, crying about it won’t do us any good. Let’s change subject before my mascara runs.” She sniffed and rummaged her purse for another cigarette. “Talk to me about this elusive husband of yours. Is he descent?”

Hannah withheld little. She told Cressida almost everything. The night he saved her from the curse on her way back to her dorm; Their morning jogs and training sessions; Watching movies together; The tumultuous night at the theater; The baseball game, the indirect kiss, then the skyline of Tokyo, followed by the actual kiss; Her lack of self-confidence, which was directly linked to her virginity. And in the midst of her rambling, Hannah for the first time contemplated how many partners Satoru has had.

“I hate to break your heart, Duch, but men like him don’t come wearing chastity belts. I wager he’s plucked the bloom off every rose in the garden.”

Hannah's heart plummeted at that. “You really think so?”

“Think so?” Cressida said with a laugh. “I know so.”

But how? Hannah found herself wondering. Was that really a fair judgment, to accuse someone of being a roaming Lothario without ever having met him? Satoru was secretive, yes, but as far as Hannah knew, he’d mentioned nothing of past lovers. And while he happened to be a shameless flirt, the gestures never quite reached the levels Cressida was implying, either that, or her husband had taken great care not to sweet-talk the ladies whenever she was around. Even still, the assumption felt off. Everytime Satoru went away on a mission, he always returned the day he had promised, not at a designated time of course, but usually before sunset. When he wasn’t away, he spent most of his days relaxing at home and training with Hannah. And more recently, they had begun the long, overdue process of renovating the estate; shoji panels needed replacing every few years, and since they now were in the rainy month of June, they had begun checking the 200 year old house for leaks and mildew. In the past week alone, they had invited a flood of carpenters, gardeners, inspectors, and financiers into their home, and Hannah was tasked with more work than before, seeing to that the property was kept ship-shape. There were people to see, correspondence to answer, checkbooks to balance. Satoru couldn’t have time for lovers. They were far too busy. But still there was that unsettling voice in the back of her head, relentlessly badgering her: “You won’t measure up. He’ll find someone better."

Hannah looked up at her cousin for guidance.

“What do I do?”

Cressida rested her cigarette on a plate and propped her chin. “Hmm, you said he kissed you, didn’t he?” Hannah nodded. “Yes, but how did he kiss you?”

“W-What? What does that have to — ”

“Did he force himself on you, Duch? Threaten you? Touch you inappropriately? Men can be dogs when it comes to that sort of thing.”

Hannah vehemently denied this. “No, no, he didn’t force himself on me at all. In fact he…” she paused. “He apologized afterwards.”

Cressida raised both brows, looking astonished. “Really? That’s rather odd. You sure it wasn’t your imagination playing tricks on you?"

Hannah shook her head. “No, I remember now. He said, ‘sorry’ before teleporting us back down.” He had said it so softly in fact she almost didn’t hear him, but Satoru had said it: “Gomen.”

“Heavens, then it must be serious.”

“What’s serious?”

The Thames heiress picked up her cigarette again, choosing not to answer and inhaled another puff of tobacco-clove.

“You know, I slept with a man once,” she confessed, veering slightly off topic. “Just to try it. See what all the talk was about.”

Hannah was in the middle of taking a sip of tea, and being unprepared for the comment, nearly had it go down the wrong pipe. “And…was it nice?” she coughed, clearing her throat.

Cressida gestured with a lazy, sinuous shrug.

“No, not really. He was a bit too soft for my tastes. Almost like riding a miniature pony.” She made a wry shape with her mouth. “Only I couldn’t decide whether he rode me, or I rode him.” Then breaking into a great bellyful of laughter, she threw back her head and gave Hannah a knowing wink, but poor Hannah couldn’t find it in herself to laugh along.

“I wish I knew what I was doing?” she huffed, frustrated by her inexperience. “I know nothing about men.”

Cressida let out a snort. “Men aren’t complicated, Hannah. And they certainly don’t apologize after kissing someone unless their intentions are forthcoming, so I wouldn’t reach for the lifejacket just yet. Be honest with him and he’ll be honest with you.” The Thames heiress finished her second cigarette and stood up. “Anywho, I didn’t come all this way to gossip. I’ve brought you something.” She walked over to Hannah, carrying the bulky briefcase she came in with. It looked heavy. “Consider it my late wedding present.”

Hannah gave her cousin a skeptical look as she set the leather case down beside her and returned to her seat. Lying it flat on the ground, Hannah unjoined the clasps, popped open the lid, and gasped.

Inside were two tiaras: A kokoshnik faceted with emerald cabochons and rows of diamonds, mimicking the appearance of fish scales. Hannah recognized it immediately. This was the tiara adorning her mother in many of the portraits at Wasserton, including her favorite that hung in the East library, pairing nicely with the emerald necklace that now sat in a glass case in her closet. However, the other tiara she did not recognize. Its garland structure bore semblance to curling ocean waves crashing into the sea. Tiny briolette diamonds hung off the edges like sparkling water drops. She could hardly speak, they were so enchanting.

This was no simple wedding gift.

“Cressida, how on earth did you get these?”

The heiress looked mighty pleased with herself.

“Why I smuggled them, of course. Had to make sure Papa wouldn’t notice anything gone awry. Lord knows he has enough jewels. I dare say, my accomplice was rather thorough this time. He even managed to forge the signatures.” She whipped out the selling documents from her purse and placed them squarely on the table. Signed on two black lines was Hannah’s fake signature alongside Lord Thames’. “I believe these now legally belong to you.”

Utterly mystified, Hannah carefully pried the emerald diadem from its velvet moorings, admiring the lapidarist’s fine handiwork, shifting it side to side to watch the fire dance inside the precious stones. The weight felt both heavier and lighter than expected. She didn’t know much about jewels, but she knew these gems were of the highest quality.

“I can’t wear them in public, you know?” she admitted woefully, twirling the diamonds. “It isn’t appropriate for people outside the Imperial Family to wear tiaras.”

“So?” The heiress shrugged. “I never said you had to wear them. The point is that they’re yours.”

“Why though?” Hannah insisted. “You’ve never shown charity to me like this before? Why bother now?”

“Because.” Cressida’s face became frighteningly stern. There was a storm in her ocean blue eyes that could not be quelled. “I never got to thank you properly for safeguarding Vera’s virtue back then, and while we may not have treated you as such, you were a Thames before you were anyone else. I don’t care what the law states.” She tapped the selling documents with her long manicured fingers. “This is as much your birthright as it is mine. And besides.” Her voice lowered. “They took my one great happiness from me. They don’t get to take anything, from anyone, ever again. Mark my words.”

Having nothing more to say, Hannah looked down her lap and continued admiring her mother’s tiara. Cressida may have been vain and stuck up and unfairly judgemental, but her loyalty held no bounds. She could be trusted.

“And Hannah?” the heiress added. “There’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Hmm?” Hannah looked up from the tiaras.

Cressida leaned over the table, dropping to the softest whisper. “You haven't told them the truth, have you? About…us?

Hannah knew what Cressida meant and grew solemn. “No,” she mouthed. “I’ve said nothing.”

“Good.” The heiress nodded approvingly. “You know the rules: Audi, vide, tace.”

The sorcerer’s wife tried hiding her dismay, “Yes, Cressida,” and looked down at the tiara in her lap. It felt heavier than it did a second ago as the Latin emptied her mouth. “Audi, vide, tace.”

Chapter Contents

[yessirplease69]

❝Domain Expansion: Love❞

Synopsis: You are Gojo Satoru's only weakness. When the bearer of the Six Eyes discerns that your life is in jeopardy, he will do everything to keep you safe.

෴ Genre: fiction, fanfiction, mystery, dark fantasy, short story, one shot, romance, imagine.

෴ Content: husband!gojo satoru × wife!reader, jujutsu society, sorcerer!reader, angst, fluff, sensitive content, bloodshed, suggestive (mature content), satoru gojo!yandere, satoru gojo!tsundere, this takes place shortly before the shibuya incident arc, reader has a maternal relationship with megumi, pregnancy.

෴ Word Count: 3.4K

— Oi, I ain't revised it yet, so sorry if there's any mistakes! Hope u enjoy it 🤞✨

Satoru Gojo is the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer in existence. However, the moment he sees you, his beautiful wife, unconscious on the battlefield with nearly incurable wounds, this man's world crumbles completely. Suddenly, all of his physical and mental energy is being drained, even his enthusiasm to exorcise curses vanishes. He is motionless in place, trembling enough with wide eyes under the black blindfold, and even though they are hidden, they scrutinize all the blood leaving different parts of your body. Minutes ago, there was a stupid and arrogant smile shaping the face of the confident man all the time as he killed horrendous creatures. A countenance of terror overtakes his face now. He feels his legs weakening, his feet seem to be too far from the ground, and he remembers that he is not manipulating the space to make it levitate. He is feeling weak for not having been able to arrive in time to protect you, this emotion has intertwined with him. Especially since Satoru Gojo never even had a weakness until you came into his life.

His heart is beating rapidly and his breath is so intense that all the curses around him are impacted by the reaction of the mighty man among them. Time frenetically ceases as the strong cursed technique is creating an invisible barrier in the air and continues to repel the malevolent creatures that persist in their futile attempt to touch the bearer of Mukagen and Rokugan, while he himself is left vulnerable like a puppy that has just lost its owner.

Didn't she use the reverse cursed technique to stay healed?

Why...

"Satoru." The presence and hesitant voice of Nanami become noticeable at a certain distance. The tie-wearing sorcerer clenches his jaw, too tense as he sees you in a deplorable state. Nanami fails to try not to show all his agony. Witnessing one of his closest friends on the brink of death equals the feeling of having his heart cut with the cursed blade he carries.

Amid the scene, Satoru is lowering the blindfold covering his eyes, the white locks of hair cascading as the black cloth falls. The fabric hangs on his neck before revealing the orbs, the bright blue darkening as a storm brews within them. A lost and distressed gaze is exposed on his face, as if you somehow took his emotions along with you.

"My wife shouldn't be on that suicide mission." The tone of voice of the Jujutsu High teacher is harsh, firm in the way he usually imposes on a very serious subject. A power which makes the walls vibrate when he is arguing with Gakuganji. He is so angry.

As he melancholically walks towards you, the semi-grade 1 curses around him are exploded in a matter of seconds. There are parts of physical structures scattered and fluids like blood painting the ground at this moment, justified by the power of his ability to manipulate space.

"I should've just isolated her from the world, maybe locked her on the 15th floor of a building and then acted as if I didn't do that." A small sad smile forms on the edge of his mouth, he is imagining how you would laugh at this idea if you were conscious now. You would probably find it absurd and put him to sleep on the couch.

Damn, he misses you and wonders why it hurts so much. His intention is to act quickly to take you to the jujutsu sorcerer doctors and stay by your side the whole time while they are taking care of you. He will not leave you for even a minute, and those are the words of Gojo Satoru against anyone. If someone dares to touch you right in front of him, he will definitely be willing to kill.

The strongest sorcerer abandons these thoughts, he does not hesitate to carefully wrap his arms around your body, holding you close to his chest. The man notices the wounds on parts of your face, your jujutsu uniform is dirty with blood and so destroyed, revealing your naked skin. The sweet taste on his tongue is bitter now, his mind can only focus on the fact that you suffered from fighting until you could not take it anymore. You resisted too much because of your undeniable strength, and on one hand he feels so proud of it. He loves showing everyone that his wife is one of the best professional jujutsu sorcerers, strong like him. But you should not be dealing with this cruel world. You are the most precious thing to him.

Satoru could feel your energy miles away, making it easy to identify your presence. But now he's not sensing any cursed energy flowing according to your emotions. It's all so quiet and calm. The powerful energy emanation should be surrounding your body as it always has, but it's as if something inside you is blocking it right now, since he can't feel your aura. It's different. He will question Shoko about this as soon as he takes your body to her for analysis.

"Do not mention it to the students, especially Megumi." The request leaves Satoru's mouth like a command. He imagines how the teenage Fushiguro would react upon finding out your condition, as you had become a maternal figure by making sure to take care of him since he was so young. The spiky-haired student is on a mission with others, and the best choice is not to disclose the information as the bad news would have a big negative impact on the boy. Gojo knows you would want that too.

On the other side of the area, the grade 1 sorcerer nods in deep silence. Nanami feels the muscles strengthen beneath his formal clothes. He is aware of the gravity of the situation, the actions and the consequences. He is not one to conceal lies, but that will be an exception he makes.

"She's losing a lot of blood." The blond man pushes his glasses closer to his eyes with his hands as he gazes at the white-haired sorcerer. He sighs deeply, containing the desperation within him. "Take her out of here before it's too late."

"Thank you, Nanami."

And that was the last thing Satoru Gojo said before teleporting with you unconscious in his arms.

෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊෴⥊

The night takes over the city, darkness has crept upon Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, and 2 hours have passed since the sorcerer of the Six Eyes emerged in the place, insane, with you clinging to his chest and enraged enough as he searched for an available doctor. Gojo laid your body down onto the nearest stretcher, his hands dirty and consumed by your blood, staining the sheets red and making a mess. 2 hours ago he was screaming at anyone who crossed his path. At this moment, silence hangs in the air like a fog, it is peaceful again behind the school doors.

In one of the infirmary rooms, you are peacefully sleeping on the stretcher. Your chest rises and falls in a steady motion, your body completely healed through the spell cursed technique reversal performed by professionals. The minor wounds and even the most serious ones - like the rupture of your rib - had vanished, and your skin is renewed under the hospital gown you are now dressed in. Sitting in a chair quite close to you, the strongest sorcerer is comfortable with legs apart, assuming a relaxed posture as he rests the upper part of his body on your legs enclosed by the sheets. Satoru Gojo is resting, his eyelids is closed and his head supported by his own arms. He spent so much time watching you sleep that his eyes were influenced by exhaustion. Satoru has no idea of the time he spent caressing your face, running his fingers through your hair, and kissing your forehead several times before settling into his current position. His neck is turned towards the ceiling, his white hair falling naturally loose. There is only a black t-shirt hugging his torso as he had taken off the jacket of his jujutsu attire since your blood had stained most of his clothes. The exposed skin of his arms is almost glistening in the light of the room.

He has kept you safe all this time, only leaving you when he realized that everything was under control. The man always ensures to protect you at all costs, even though most of the time you don't need it. After inspecting the entire perimeter and realizing that you were safe at Jujutsu High, he went to finish the mission that was according to the superiors, just as it had been ordered to you. Since he completed the task of exorcising a special grade curse, his precious time now remains only for you. By the time indicated on the wall clock, Satoru wishes so much to take you home and he only thinks about holding you close until morning comes again. Nevertheless, Shoko was quite insistent when she said that you still require monitoring by a doctor, and that for now you should stay here. What did she mean by that?

This question echoes in Satoru's mind, suddenly he awakens fully and opens his eyes as quickly as if he felt some creature attacking him without warning. A movement of your legs under the sheets does not go unnoticed by him, his blue orbs almost popping out as they contemplate you lazily waking up from eternal rest. For him, it was truly eternal.

"I knew you were here." You whisper. Your voice is weak from just waking up, but a strong smile spreads across your face when your eyes slowly open and meet the white mane. You try to push yourself up out of bed using your arms, but your efforts are blocked by Satoru.

"Babyyy! Easy, easy." Your husband gestures with his hands, a gaze of relief on his face. You're really strong, huh? He is smiling like a little boy who just tasted his favorite mochi flavor, and you are certain you see stars twinkling in his eyes. "Gee, you're already eager to fly."

"Satoru, if you don't let me get out of this bed right now, I swear I don't know what I'll do."

"When in doubt, do nothing." He is clapping consistently to highlight the idea. "Settle that cute and pretty booty down right there, I've locked all the doors and you ain't leaving here. Now tell me how you're feeling, my lovely wife. That's all that matters to me."

"Argh." A small huff of air escapes your lips while you roll your eyes towards the ceiling, defeated enough. The man right next to you is playfully disapproving of your behavior. "I'm fine, 'Toru. You know that better than I do. My skin's just tingling from someone else's reverse technique." You report during the time you notice the scars that have formed on your arm after the outcome of the cursed method. A technique that you have the experience to perform on yourself. After all, you don't carry the title of special grade sorcerer for nothing.

"Nah, don't sweat it. I'm gonna take good care of you." There's an intense gaze that matches his words. The man emits a little chuckle as he realizes he managed to tease you with that.

"And where's 'Gumi?" You inquire, more to yourself than to Satoru. Your eyes are scanning the entire room in search of finding the black-haired teenage boy. You still ponder the king of curse's intentions towards Megumi, it consumes you and leaves you with a nagging feeling.

"You're more worried 'bout him than 'bout yourself, heh." The man raises his eyebrows, indignation stamped on them. A comical expression, almost too much. "You know that tough boy is independent, he's able to handle anything. Can you chill out for a minute, lady?" Satoru's smile broadens before he proceeds: "I took care of everything already, I told him to swing by here before heading to the dorm. Didn't go into the details, of course."

"He's probably gonna be surprised to find out we're here at Jujutsu High at this time of night... Guess I must have slept for a while, right?" You touch the skin of your husband as you place your hand on his face, and give a radiant smile as you realize that there is no invisible barrier holding you apart, even though he always deactivates it when he is with you. "Hey. Thank you for keeping things on the down low. And for everything you do for me."

"Awww! You're welcome, bae." Satoru copies the way you smile, but it is quickly replaced by a grimace. He puts his hand right on top of yours, the wedding rings on your fingers colliding with each other. "Ain't nobody care 'bout me like that. What did I do to not deserve it?"

"It's like I wouldn't be worried about you even if you could move mountains with just your own thoughts." You are rolling your eyes for the second time. Once you blink, he is staring at you with a stern and intimidating look.

"I'm the one here who got the most worried 'cause you got me feelin' this way. A guy like me shouldn't have these kinds of feelings." His voice is husky and his cold blue eyes unravel your soul, the temperature is freezing you. "Don't do that again, or I'll lose my mind and kill anyone around me." The way he adresses this, it is not a bluff. It seems like an objective he would fulfill, a mission that would not require anyone's authorization, not even the higher-ups of the Jujutsu society.

"Satoru..."

"You're trying to make me a widower, hah?" His voice becomes light again, genuine good humor returns. Now he has a broad smile on his face, the eyes are nearly closing due to that action. As if he hadn't announced something so violent just 10 seconds ago. "If I tally up how many folks got worried 'bout you, there won't be enough fingers on Sukuna's hand to count it."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to do that." You are making amends, and he cannot resist gazing at your lips without stealing a quick kiss. A man clingy to his wife. "I had just exorcised a special grade cursed spirit when I started feeling dizzy. My head began to spin."

Satoru reveals a pensive expression on the face, one hand resting on his chin. The most powerful sorcerer is contemplating all the possibilities to uncover the reason behind that eventuality concerning your cursed technique.

"So, I suppose that might have been the reason you didn't recover yourself at that moment, considering you experienced signs of fainting. Your brain became destabilized." He pronounces, cautiously, witnessing you confirm the information. "Were you feeling like that before you got the fight started?"

"When we split up to head towards the mission I was feeling fine." The corner of your mouth moves, you display your teeth to the man in an attempt to reassure him. Gosh, he is being so serious about that. "Maybe I used up too much of my energy, I guess I hit my limit. That's it."

"Hmm, there's something more. It's interesting and surprising how your energy flow is strongest now." The white-haired man is examining you with a curious look.

"Are you saying I'm accumulating this more than usual? Is that possible?"

"It's a fact. And I'm the one confirming it, little sweetheart." There is a smug smile playing on his lips. "But at least you're feeling better right now, yeah?"

"Hell yeah, I feel brand spanking new thanks to Shoko's skills!" You are shooting fire arrows with your eyes towards the bold man. "Can you stop staring at my tits now?"

"I'm just checking to make sure everything's really okay." He speaks with such honesty, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours. Satoru cannot shake off the thought of how beautiful you look to him, a very sugary sweet and his favorite. You make him feel so mushy and nearly diabetic.

However, Gojo Satoru is a natural provocateur.

"You're getting on my nerves, 'Toru."

He opens his mouth to laugh out loud, giving you a wink. You also join in his laughter as he starts poking your body several times, this real jokerster tickling you. The antics are suddenly interrupted the moment someone knocks on the door. Shoko Ieiri appears seconds later behind it, revealing only the upper part of her body.

"Sorry to interrupt the lovebirds." She smiles faintly, continuing: "I need a quick minute to talk to Satoru." The experienced doctor has a lit cigarette between her fingers, she is pointing it in your direction. You see its tip sparkling at you. "And you, go rest. Don't even think about escaping from that stretcher until we come back."

"You heard that, huh? This time it didn't come out of my mouth." Gojo has one finger pointed at the tongue he sticks out.

You gaze at them and fold your arms, simply accepting your fate.

"Alright. Goodbye." You are turning your back on them and burrowing into the blanket. "If possible, turn off the light before you guys leave."

"Going to sleep without giving me a kiss? That's not fair." Satoru is shocked enough, a pout forming on his lips and a puppy dog look in his eyes. He truly displays his emotions, reminding you of how every night Satoru Gojo questions that same thing after going to bed with you. Every night, the same thing.

"Okay, you two. I'll wait outside." The woman manages to capture the attention of both of you before the noise of her high heels against the floor fades away.

As soon as she departs, warm lips land on the side of your neck and journey up to your mouth. You need to raise your head to reach Satoru's lips, his skin burning against yours like a flame. The instant his hand wraps around the flesh of your waist and grips it tightly, you understand that he would never let you escape his grasp, or his domain expansion. He is kissing you as if he were thirsty and you were the water fountain, this man is showing you how much he requires you in his life. Preferably alive, of course. Otherwise, he will make sure of it for you.

"Hmmm, get outta here. I promise I'll make it up to you with a full kiss later." You moan at the touch, trying not to show that you're shivering just to not further inflate his already oversized ego. As if it were possible to be any bigger than usual.

"Oh, is that so? You know I'll hold you to that, babe." He growls near your ear.

At the moment the sorcerer is leaving the room, he halts on his path and gives you a long look with his blue eyes. Inside them, Satoru harbors concern.

"What's going on?"

"I'm feeling sorry for my friend." Ieiri ignores Satoru, making one's way to her desk. Instantly, a breeze from outside the window extinguishes the cigarette ember in her hand, smoke spreading throughout the room. "She is truly doomed to sacrifice her life, including putting up with your strong-willed nature for the rest of her life."

"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?" Satoru wears a playful smile on his lips. He places his hands in his trouser pockets in a relaxed and unconcerned posture, anticipating a highly amusing joke.

"You have no idea what's happening, do you? And what's going to happen from now on." She sets aside the cigarette, burying it in the ashtray on the table. Gojo watches everything attentively before rolling his eyes, he's starting to get bored with all the fuss. "But I believe you may have already noticed that the train is off the rails."

The doctor is moving around the small armchair in the room. When Shoko sits down, she leans her back against the backrest and then crosses her legs, silently facing Satoru. The expression on the white-haired man's face is impassive. He wishes he had the ability to read minds.

"Y/N is pregnant, Satoru." The sound of Ieiri's sigh is loud. "She is carrying your child in her womb. It's extraordinary that the baby has survived."

Satoru Gojo's world crumbles once more, for the second time that day. Not only is his own world shaken, but also the entire Jujutsu society.

[grartsss]

Being Gojo's assistant means....

[ewyuzu]

wrapped in warmth

gojo satoru x reader

after a long day, all you want is to collapse into bed and let the world fade away. you’re exhausted, both mentally and physically, and you can feel the weariness clinging to every part of you. you shuffle toward the bed, already thinking about the soft pillows and warm blankets waiting for you. but before you can settle in, you feel a familiar presence behind you.

"hold on," gojo's voice calls out teasingly. "you can’t just get comfortable without me."

you turn to see him standing there, a playful grin on his face as he saunters over. even after everything today, he still manages to look like he’s just stepped out of a magazine—tall, effortlessly charming, and with that signature mischievous glint in his eyes.

"i’m tired," you mumble, crawling into bed anyway. "no teasing tonight, satoru."

he chuckles, sliding in beside you with ease. "no teasing? that’s going to be hard, you know."

before you can even protest, his arms are around you, pulling you close against his chest. the warmth of his body immediately seeps into you, and despite yourself, you relax. gojo holds you like this sometimes, usually after long days where neither of you has much left to give. it’s rare for him to be this still, but in moments like this, you’re grateful for the quiet.

"you’re tense," he murmurs softly, resting his chin on top of your head. his hand comes up to brush through your hair in slow, soothing strokes. "just relax."

you try to stifle a smile, knowing full well he can feel it. his presence is too comforting, too familiar, and no matter how hard you try to stay annoyed, he always manages to pull you out of it.

"i can’t relax with you talking," you tease gently, nestling closer into his chest.

gojo lets out a soft laugh, his breath warm against your skin. "okay, okay, no more talking. but you have to admit, i’m pretty good at this whole cuddling thing."

"mm-hmm," you mumble, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as the exhaustion starts to catch up to you. his fingers continue to thread through your hair, and you let out a small sigh of contentment.

"see?" he whispers, his voice barely above a murmur now. "told you i’d help you relax."

his arms tighten around you just a little, and you feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. the world outside feels distant, and all you can focus on is the warmth of gojo's body, the gentle rhythm of his breathing, and the safety of being wrapped up in his embrace.

"you’re so warm," you mumble, your voice soft and sleepy. you can barely keep your eyes open now, and the sensation of his hand in your hair is starting to lull you into a peaceful haze.

"that’s because i’m perfect," he replies, the faintest hint of smugness in his tone, but it’s softer than usual, more tender.

"so modest," you whisper back, your words slurring as sleep pulls you under.

gojo chuckles softly, but as you start to drift off, he grows quiet. his hand slows in your hair, and he presses the gentlest of kisses to the top of your head, so light that it almost feels like a dream.

"goodnight," he murmurs, his voice barely audible now, as if he’s speaking more to himself than to you. "i’ve got you."

with those words, the last bit of tension leaves your body, and you sink fully into sleep, surrounded by warmth, comfort, and the quiet assurance that, in gojo’s arms, everything is just a little bit better.

[peachsayshi]

───⋆⋅THE WAY YOU LOVE ME (LINK TO FULL STORY)⋅⋆ ───

summary:  breaking up with your ex-boyfriend left your love life in a rut. so, you decide to start a physical relationship (no strings attached) with your close friend, satoru gojo. despite setting up rules, the two of you can't seem to keep your boundaries in check, and the lines that he's so carefully put in place blurs as your worlds slowly collide the deeper you both fall.

note: the entire fic is available on AO3. I originally had this fic posted on Tumblr, but have decided to stop updating on this platform. I do not use wattpad or any other platforms for my fics. If you see anybody else posting this story it has been plagiarized.

fic status: complete

[luvolani]

𝗬𝘂𝗷𝗶 𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗱𝗼𝗿𝗶 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿!

𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆- 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽'𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌... 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀?

𝗦𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀- strict parents.. there such a blessing aren’t they?.. well.. not when there meeting the absolute love of ur life!

Y/N and Yuji had been dating for several months, their relationship blossoming into something deep and meaningful. Their story had begun on a rainy afternoon at school. Y/N had been caught without an umbrella, drenched and shivering under a tree, her mood as grey as the overcast sky. Yuji, who was passing by, had noticed her predicament. With a charming smile, he had offered her his umbrella, sheltering her from the rain and starting a conversation that would soon change their lives.

Since that day, their connection had only grown stronger. They enjoyed each other’s company and shared countless moments of joy. One particularly cozy morning, after spending the night at Yuji’s house, Y/N woke up with her head resting comfortably on his chest. The soft glow of the morning light filtered through the curtains, and the TV played in the background, its sound barely audible. Yuji’s hand moved gently up and down her back, a soothing gesture that made her feel safe and loved.

“Hey, babe?” Yuji’s voice broke the comfortable silence.

Y/N stirred, her eyes still heavy with sleep. “Yes?”

Yuji hesitated for a moment before asking, “How come I haven’t met your parents? I mean, you’ve met my grandpa.”

The question caught Y/N off guard. A tight knot formed in her stomach at the mere thought of her parents. She had always avoided discussing them, partly because her relationship with them was strained, and partly because she didn’t want to burden Yuji with her family’s problems. But their relationship was becoming serious, and she knew that this was a conversation they needed to have.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N decided to be honest but not too revealing. “How about next week?”

Yuji’s face brightened with a smile. He leaned in and kissed her softly, his affection evident. “Yeah, alright.”

The week flew by, and the day of the visit arrived. Yuji and Y/N approached her family’s house, their mood a mixture of apprehension and hope. As they stepped inside, they were met with a cold reception. Y/N’s parents barely acknowledged their presence, their demeanor detached and indifferent. The air was thick with unspoken tension.

Dinner was served in silence, punctuated only by the clinking of cutlery against plates. Y/N tried to engage her parents in conversation, but their responses were curt and dismissive. The uncomfortable atmosphere only worsened as the evening progressed.

The breaking point came when her father, with a scowl on his face, brought up an old argument. “Y/N, why are you with him? There was a perfectly suitable man I wanted you to be with. Someone who would have been a better match.”

Y/N’s heart sank. She tried to keep her emotions in check, but the words cut deep. “Dad, I’m happy with Yuji. He’s someone who cares about me.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “Happiness? That’s not a valid reason. You’re making a mistake.”

Yuji, sensing the escalating tension, tried to defuse the situation. “Sir, I understand you have concerns, but I genuinely care about Y/N. I want to make her happy and support her.”

The argument intensified. Y/N’s frustration bubbled over, and she shouted back, her voice trembling with emotion. “You don’t understand anything! You always think you know what’s best for me, but you don’t!”

In a shocking move, Y/N’s father raised his hand as if to strike her. Y/N’s heart raced in terror. She shut her eyes tightly, bracing for the pain she anticipated.

But when she opened them, she saw Yuji standing between her and her father. His expression was a mix of anger and determination, but his voice was steady. “Sir, I would prefer if you kept your hands to yourself.”

Yuji’s grip on her father’s wrist was firm, his eyes blazing with a mix of defiance and disappointment. He pushed her father back, making it clear that he wouldn’t tolerate any form of violence. The room fell silent, everyone stunned by Yuji’s reaction.

Y/N looked at Yuji in shock. She had never seen him this angry before, and it made her heart swell with admiration. Without a word, he took her hand, and they left the house, leaving her mother in stunned silence.

The drive back to Yuji’s place was quiet, the car’s interior filled with the sound of their uneven breathing. Once they arrived, Y/N threw her arms around Yuji, holding him tightly. Her gratitude and relief were overwhelming.

Yuji looked surprised but embraced her, his arms wrapping around her protectively. “Y-”

Y/N cut him off, her voice choked with emotion. “Thank you.”

Yuji’s gaze softened, and he gently squeezed her hands. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m here for you, always. No matter what.”

They sat together in the car, the silence between them filled with an unspoken bond. Though the evening had been painful, it had brought them even closer. Y/N knew that Yuji was more than just a boyfriend—he was her partner, someone who stood by her in the face of adversity.

As they drove home, Y/N rested her head on Yuji’s shoulder, finding solace in his presence. They both understood that the road ahead might be challenging, but with each other’s support, they felt ready to face whatever came their way.

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

tags: ex!husband gojo x reader, gojo and reader both have a 3 y/o, flashback to making out, slight angst, satoru's father being on our side (maybe?), mentions of children, satoru slightly jealous, satoru and reader co-parenting

wc: 2.3k

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

You want the ground to eat you alive when you see your ex-husband, satoru making pancakes with your daughter as he once promised the night before. Saori, your three-year-old, is innocently unaware of the sexual tension from last night; mesmerized by the array of toppings in front of her.

“I, uh...” you feel awkward for intervening during this father-daughter moment. “If you need me, I’ll be taking a shower.” you add, “be good with papa, saori, ok?” when you see the two of them nod, like spitting images of one another, your cheeks tighten. making you turn your heel to the bathroom.

“make a heart for mama,” you hear your daughter giggle as your ex-husband's voice instructs, making you sigh as you’re already at the bathroom’s door.

(flashback from last night):

You don’t know what pulls you in, but you kiss him. hungrily. feverishly as your lips move against his as if he were yours, something you had decided to allow yourself to have. just this once. Satoru instinctively kisses you back, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist so as to not let you go. as if you would evaporate into thin air like smoke. he had to keep you with him, couldn’t let you leave. he didn’t want you to, not with the way you kiss him, the way your pretty fingers glide along his undercut just the way he likes it as your fingertips tug on his hair making him see stars. Your ex-husband takes the chance to press you against the wall. placing his thigh between your own, he allows his hands to travel up and down your sides, making you shiver ever so slightly as you pull him closer. the familiar heat and throbbing sensation within you pull him closer, not caring if you’d burn in the process. “Satoru...” you sigh against his lips. I want you. It’s a game of tug and pull, your mind urging you to him as he does nothing to pull back. and suddenly, you're reminded where you are. who you’re with, why you’re here, and the situation between you both makes you feel all the shame you would. you can't do this. you can’t call him yours, can’t murmur those three words, can’t do what you’d imagine in the late hours of the night. not when he's this close and this real to you. he wasn’t yours, and the realization was as bitter as your departure. “I have to go,” you exhale, pushing him away. no matter how weak your push was, satoru is off of you in an instant. pupils blown and lips swollen as he watches you walk away. heart and mind throbbing as he’s too dizzy to do anything. he’s frozen. unsure of what’s happened between the two of you. so he lets you go. even if he doesn’t want to let you. you force yourself to walk to your room where your daughter peacefully sleeps, closing the door behind you as you lean against it. eyes shut as you wrap your arms around you, releasing a small sigh of what feels like mixed want and possibly regret. what the hell did you just do?

When you return from your shower you find your daughter happily aid her father in setting up the table.

“mommy!” you daughter calls you, ecstatic over the pancakes set in display on the table, “say good morning to daddy!” and for a moment you want to slap yourself for educating your child so well. teaching her to always greet everyone with kindness. waving to satoru feels like a royal obligation before he simply waves back, resuming his attention to your daughter, explaining the different toppings he’s sorted out on the table. he whispers something to her. "... and have mommy choose her own toppings, 'kay princess?"

princess. you suddenly feel hot as you look away. grateful your daughter and ex-husband were too busy on the plates to notice you walk towards the kitchen, oddly reaching for a cold glass of water instead of coffee.

"everything okay?" you nearly jump, noticing your husband walk behind you. he reaches for a tablecloth inside a nearby cabinet.

"y-yeah, just a bit dehydrated." you explain, "your father's party will be inside, correct?"

"yes." satoru replies, "he mentioned something about having an indoor bouncy house. probably for all the kids coming."

"I didn't know you could do that, have them inside, I believe. bouncy houses were normally always outside when I was a kid. that or establishments would have them indoors."

"yeah, well I guess we'll just have to wait and see. I'm pretty sure my dad just made the arrangments inside so saori won't get sunburn. the weather forecast for today says it'll be warmer than usual."

"yeah," you chuckle dryly. "must be why I need more water." you awkwardly raise your glass a bit before looking over your shoulder, watching how your daughter neatly picks her strawberries, decorating them around her plate. "she seems to be having fun."

"yeah," your husband turns as well, "that's the goal, isn't it?"

you nod.

"we should probably join her." you say, walking past him, "wouldn't want her to feel too alone, would we?"

"are you still trying?" satoru is suddenly pulled from his thoughts by his father who holds his daughter, smothering her in affection while your ex-husband watches you across the room laugh politely at something higuruma, his father's soon-to-be lawyer, says. too close for his liking.

"yeah," he murmurs, slightly annoyed. he quickly offers you a carefree, reassuring smile when you turn to see him, eyes looking for your daughter as you stand across the room. relax, he tells you with his smile, she's fine.

your motherly stare and sigh makes his stomach swirl, shortly before you've returned to converse with hiromi while satoru turns to his father. "sorry, what did you say?"

"I said," his father enunciates, "this is my favorite grandchild."

"well, she's your only grandchild."

"I know, and I should blame you for these shortcomings. I thought I'd have another by now. it's one of the things that is wrong with your generation, your perception of divorce. when I was your age, marriage was forever. through thick and thin. not this." and satoru can only sigh, reminiscing of times where he too thought forever was with you.

(flashback):

"sounds like somebody loves me." "somebody does," satoru grins, tightening the grip around your waist as the two of you lay in soft sheets, away from the world in a last-minute romantic weeklong getaway trip. he smiles, "and somebody said yes to marrying me. lucky girl." "is she?" the humor in your tone makes him laugh. "I don't know... I think she's very brave to do that, sacrificing herself, what a hero." he chuckles, "maybe... maybe she deserves a statue? a medal?" "a bracelet would be just fine after that ring you just got me." you grin. "silver or gold?" "oh, you know me. white gold obviously." "I know. I just love that look in your eyes when I do that to you." "do what?" "mess with you." "you're so mean." "I know, but you love me." "unfortunately," he dramatically gasps at your word, making you stifle a laugh. "I'm kidding, satoru. just... be nice for the rest of the night. will you?" "can do, princess," he grins, "want me to get you that new purse you saw at the mall the other day?" "you don't have to buy my feelings, you know." "I know, but I like making you feel like you can get anything you want. especially from me." he kisses the top of your head, "that's my job." "and mine?" "to love me, of course. and to feel loved." "anything else?" he hums. "maybe give me a baby. if we're both ready, that is." "you really want one?" "with you? of course. not to mention you'd look beautiful all swollen..." he kisses your cheek, "...sensitive..." he kisses your chest, squeezes your hip, "godly... and they say women have a pregnancy glow." "mmm... what if I don't have a glow? what if I'm all-" "impossible. you already have a glow. always. pregnant or not. besides, how could I not worship you when you're carrying my child? you're doing the most important job of all, and I'd love you regardless. baby or not." "you're doing too much satoru." "mm... that's because I love you." "you do" you whisper, cupping the back of his head, fingers between his locks as you pull him closer, "so so much."

(flashback):

"do you think we'll last forever?" you ask, softly above a whisper in the comfort of your shared bed. it had been 3 days since your arrival to tahiti, a week-long romantic getaway where satoru proposed on your first night of arrival. too lovesick to wait. as you're laid at his side, satoru takes your hand and kisses your fingertips, lazily at the back of your hand. "why do you say that?" he tries to mask his tone with humor, "already having second thoughts after I proposed?" "no, no. not at all," you blush, "I just... I worry, is all, satoru. you know how things happen." "you know they can't go wrong. not when I love you like this," he says, rising up to place soft kisses behind your ear, "not when I've proposed already. even my dad knows, you know. so it's serious." "he... he does?" "of course," he holds back a laugh, "he mentioned marriage the minute you left, first time he saw you." he chuckles, "even the stars might be in our favor. everyone might as well be." you hum, holding him close as you nod, mindlessly basking in the warmth he gives you. "are you having second thoughts?" "no... just... worried for the future." you admit, "sometimes... I feel like I'm dreaming when I'm with you. like I'm bound to wake up and all that I've grown to love will one day disappear." you chuckle nervously, "sorry. it's the nerves." "we'll be fine," he reassures you, "and don't apologize. this is probably my fault for not reassuring you enough. so why don't you lay back and enjoy yourself while I make my future wife feel good, yeah?" he kisses the crown of your head, "it's about time I please my girl, mm?"

not much happens that day. saori's grandfather treats you kindly as possible, and as much as you try to deny it, you suspect he's upset with satoru over something. you worry it must be about him staying over with you, or the fact that he has a girlfriend and he stayed over his ex-wife's. you worry his father might see you differently, but the man treats you all but the same. taking time to ask what saori's interests have been now that she's older. satoru's father makes a mental note, keeping his granddaughter's interests as ideas for future gifts. the man held some likeness to satoru; he loved giving gifts. it was one of the few things that tied father and son alike.

"how has he been with you, now that you're co-parenting?" your father in law asks. from a distance, you watch satoru nod at something nanami kento, the finances leader department chair, says. the two of them were moderate friends. you'd known since he was invited to your wedding. it wasn't until after your divorce that you've stopped speaking with him. your social groups have all shifted as a result.

"he's been fine," you tell him, "we... we try to be flexible about it. I don't want us to be like most stereotypical divorced parents. making our child choose one or the other or imposing damaging habits," you say, feeling yourself go on autopilot as you hold your daughter. she seems to be wanting to take a nap. "satoru and I try to make it work."

"forgive me for asking," your in law gently intrudes, "but... what of his mistress? has he-"

"-he's been doing his best," you tell him. "he... I don't really get into his other personal affairs, but..." you bite the inside of your cheek and swallow, feeling dryness in your throat. "he seems to be serious with her."

"and... do you mind?"

"I worry about saori." you tell him. "all I care is about her. I just..." you sigh, trying to find the right words, "I just worry about her one day feeling like she was the spare child, or her feeling cast aside." you furrow your brows. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do as a mother, and I don't know what satoru plans to do either." you pause. "I just don't want to overwhelm him, I suppose. with work, being a dad, and navigating a relationship, I..."

"you worry about making him feel like he's got too much on his plate."

"yeah." you exhale, "the last thing I want is to distance us more than what we are." following your eyes, your in law speaks.

"I understand your concern. from what I've known, my son was always in love with you, and I'm certain he still carries some of that love for you and your child. my question is, would you consider starting fre- oh," your in law pauses, surprised to greet his son. "you've returned."

"it's almost 3." satoru says, turning to you, "saori's nap time. has she...?"

"she wants to, but she's kind of struggling with the ambience of so many people around her..."

"I can take her to bed," your ex-husband suggests, "my dad has a private room above this floor. we can have her rest there."

"then I'll go with you," you say, standing as you carry your daughter. "I'm a bit tired myself, if that's alright."

"no, yeah." your ex-husband thoroughly nods, motioning you to join him, "I'll show you where, yeah? I suppose I could also use the minute. this room feels a bit stuffed," and when you turn to face your in law, you note he's already gone. wondering if he's left to talk to another executive or grant his son a minute alone with his ex-wife in hopes of...

"just follow me," he says, and you do.

[bemylife]

Just an hour 🕰️- Gojo Satoru

At 6 am she was standing in the bathroom in front of the mirror brushing her teeth.

Wanting to have a productive day, she tried to stay true to herself and wake up earlier to freshen up while her other half was still lying around in their bed.

I'm so tired, she thought to herself.

The reason? Well, somebody wouldn't stop talking about his students' drama and love stories up until bedtime.

After brushing her teeth lazily, she washed her face quickly with water and started putting on moisturizer, hearing Satoru groan all the way from their room.

‘Babyyyyy? Where are you?’ Came a mumble from the man.

Stretching, he looked around the room trying to locate his girlfriend but with no success.

With half open eyes and a half functioning brain, he started pushing back the covers to stand up and search for his lover.

He followed the light to the bathroom and leaned onto the door frame of the bathroom, only half opening his eyes to look at his baby.

‘Baby?’ he said in a small voice

‘Hm?’ She answered, busily continuing her morning routine

Seeing as she didn't pay much attention to him, he came up behind her, craving their morning nearness, hugging her and encircling her torso

‘Why are you up so early, I already miss you’

‘Satoru, I have so many things to do, so I wanted to wake up earlier than usual’

‘But not at six in the morningggg’ he said whining a little while hiding in her neck from the lightning in the bathroom.

‘Let's go to bed for at least another hour, hmm?’

‘Noooo’

‘Pleaseeee?’

That please was very convincing, especially because Satoru started to push his hands past her sleeping shirt to her chest, pulling her shirt up and caressing her breasts.

‘Just an hour’

he whispered kissing down her collarbone, while she felt herself giving in already

‘Okay, if it's just an hour’, she breathed out a sigh, turning slightly to look at his desperate eyes.

And how could she resist him?

He was temptation personified.

Of course, she had to succumb to the temptation of

The Satoru Gojo

[siriuslysatorusimping]

Everyone, meet Kurisaki Rinko, Special Grade 1 Jujutsu Sorcerer from Kyoto

If you haven’t already, you can read Another Level to meet Rinko for yourself!

Another Level Masterlist | Kiko’s Masterlist

A HUGE thanks to @breiterart for bringing Rinko to life in JJK art style! I’ve been so fucking excited, and can’t believe I’m finally getting to share it with our lil corner.

It’s been just over a year since I started writing Another Level and Rinko began cementing herself as my favorite OC.

Thank you to everyone here in our lil corner who’s fallen just as in love with her as I have.

There will be more to come in the future, and I’ll also be updating Rinko’s profile once I get my laptop back!!

[metaphorspears]

[📢 SOUND ON!] Watch me turn my Gojo fantasy into a movie-

Writing fanfic in 2024 be like:

✅ reader name & gender inserts: yes

✅ avatar visuals, scene, music, voices: yes mommy

✅ emoji to facial expression: f*ck yeah

My thoughts are flowing out of my brain and I've never had a more satisfying writing experience. I'm happy I live in 2024 with great technology built for writers 💚

Recommend joining their Discord to access the app (iOS & Android), hang with other writers and the super active devs<3 https://discord.gg/n7XVSgCPtu

[lovedrunkheadcanons]

Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Pic) Read on AO3 

Rated M 

Hannah waited for the little honeybee to lap up the rose pollen on her finger, its velvety yellow body tickling her skin as it licked and buzzed. After a minute or so, the task was finished, and bidding a fond farewell, the little honeybell turned herself around, flicked her small antennae at the generous human in thanks, and flew off.

“You’re welcome,” Hannah chimed as the insect departed, possibly returning to her hive with the saddlebags of fresh pollen clinging to her legs.

Honeybees were such amazing creatures; Never stopping, never tiring, hurrying from one pollen-filled bloom to the next. Unafraid of new opportunities. Hornets and wasps, however, were mean spirited and highly aggressive, as were German dark bees and the African “killer” bees. Common bumblebees were often mistaken for their honeybee cousins, but were not the same in both size and mannerism and could not produce honey. Other honey-less, distant relatives included ants, sawflies, and the noblest of all hymenoptera, the praying mantis, but none worked harder, nor carried as much environmental importance as the honeybee, which was why Hannah loved them so. The same golden insect emblazoned all over St. Peter's Baldachin and who’s wax was used in making Paschal candles were a gardener’s best friend. It was said that a single bee colony could pollinate close to 300 million flowers in a day, meaning if there were no honeybees - or bees in general - there’d be no flowers. If there were no flowers, there would be no flower gardeners. If there were no gardeners the world would be a much darker and less beautiful place. Crops would fail, as would roughly ¾ of all flowering plants without some sort of human intervention. Not good.

For this reason, Hannah's affection for the honeybee was insatiable. They could do no wrong in her eyes and not once had she been stung. Mother Nature’s little helpers.

Having done her good deed for the day, Hannah wiped her hands over her dirty overalls, put her gloves back on, and picked up her gardening shears and disinfectant wipes. The roses weren’t going to trim themselves.

Last week was spent tirelessly transplanting the roses from Jujutsu High to the Gojo estate. These were the same roses she had planted her first week; the night she was attacked from returning to her dorm after dark. Hannah had woken before sunrise carting the wheelbarrow and a shovel. Finally August, the rose shrubs were now rose bushes and had prospered beautifully in their foreign environment, taking on a deep reddish-purple hue reminiscent of merlot. To minimize any damage she might incur, Hannah surgically dug a moat around the thorny rose shrubs with the shovel, avoiding the delicate root hairs, and used her gloved hands to (again very carefully) unearth each prickly rose bush from the soil. Technically, it was not advisable to transplant roses in the middle of summer when the flowers were beginning to bloom and the sun was at its hottest. They were also covered with leaves and very heavy (for her). Hannah worried the whole procedure would stress the plants, causing them to go into “transplant shock,” but these were no ordinary roses. They would endure, and once all six roses had been successfully uprooted, she enlisted the help of Mr. Aoyama to wheel them up (yes, all the way up) the hill to the house.

They had placed the bushes in their own individual pot. Hannah’s homemade compost wasn’t ready. So she bought a light soilless mixture made of peat moss and perlite instead. Excellent for retaining moisture, yet allow for water to drain properly from the drilled holes at the bottom of the containers. In the end, the hardy roses not only survived the shocking ordeal, but thrived, their ruffled petals blooming like plumage, untraumatized by the event. They weren’t going anywhere. If the attracted honeybees were any indicator.

Hannah ran a disinfectant wipe over the blades and went back to trimming, cutting at a clean forty-five degree angle right above where the stem met another leaf. The clipped rose was then transferred to a water bucket with the others. So far, she had enough roses to make a bouquet for the English dining room. They hardly ever ate in there, but the wine-colored flowers would pair lovely with the oak furnishings.

She began humming a tune. A shadow eclipsed her as she clipped another rose off its stem. She felt a weight land on her braided crown, something like lips and a nose.

“Why’re you doing that?”

Hannah didn’t have to look up to know who it was, not that his voice didn’t give him away. Lately, Satoru liked perching his head on top of hers as a way of grabbing her attention.

“To clean the shears,” she answered, showing him the shears and wipes, his head staying nestled where it was. “Roses are prone to infection, so it’s best to sanitize the blades after each use.” She held up the freshly cut rose for him to take. “Here, smell one.”

Satoru took the multi-layered rose, aware of the thorns, and drew it to his nose. His brows shot straight up. “Woah.” The smell was so sweet and fruity he could literally taste it on his tongue, forcing him to comically choke down a cough.

Hannah tried suppressing a giggle. “Intense, isn’t it?”

The Six Eyes wielder nodded, blinking a few times. “Boy, you’re not kidding.” He cleared his throat and held the fragrant bloom to his nose once more, taking a more moderate whiff. The deep burgundy petals felt velvety soft on his skin. “Smells almost like candy.”

Hannah's smile widened. “These roses were a gift to me from Sister Edith before I came here.”

“Sister Edith,” Satoru mused in thought, rose still pressed to his nose. “You’ve mentioned that name before. Who was she again?”

“She was my Japanese instructor during my stay with the Sisters of St. Horatia. Every word I’m speaking to you is because of her.”

“Ah, now I remember. Sounds like she was quite the lady.”

“Of course. The best.”

“You must miss her then.”

Hannah’s smile slipped a crack. “Very much so,” she spoke somberly, running her hands over the rose petals in her lap. “Edith was fluent in almost every language you could think of, from Greek to Juǀʼhoan. I’ll probably never see her again, circumstances being what they are.”

Satoru’s brows furrowed. “How come?”

Hannah snipped off another rose. “The Sisters of St. Horatia is a cloistered order. They’re not permitted to leave the convent.”

“Wait, for real? Like ever?”

She turned to nod solemnly. “Like ever.”

“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“It’s the life they chose, Satoru.” Hannah rested the rose on her lap. “The Sisters of St. Horatia are unique in that they’re archivists. They specialize in preserving and interpreting ancient texts. Magical texts. It’s believed their library holds some of the West’s oldest sorcerery. Mother Superior oversees the whole operation.”

“Mother Superior?”

“The abbess,” Hannah said. “In convents, the head nun in charge is called ‘Mother Superior.’ I don’t know what her actual name is. She’s tied closely to the Association and was tasked with facilitating where I went as a child, including my education.”  

Satoru’s face perked up. “Oh right, that's what I wanted to talk to you about.”

She stared blankly at him. “You want me to join a convent?”

“Wha — No.” He seemed partially offended. “Why would I want you to join a  — ”

“Relax, silly. I’m teasing,” Hannah said, perhaps a little too happy he took the bait. “Married women aren’t allowed to join convents. As soon as they saw our marital records, I’d be swiftly booted out.”

“Oh.” Her husband’s shoulders drooped. “Well, I wanted to get your thoughts on something. See if you might be interested.”

“Sure, but can you give me a moment to finish with these? I’m almost done.”

Satoru eyed the bouquet of roses she was assembling. “Anything I can do to help?”

Hannah stopped her pruning and thought for a moment. “Actually, now that you’ve mentioned it….” She leaned over and patted the large rose pot in front of her. “I’d like to move this one up to the house, but it’s too heavy. Think you could lend a girl a hand, Mr. Muscles?”

Satoru issued her a mock salut. “Ma’am, yes ma’am,” and rolled his shoulders, biceps and triceps rippling under his shirt. “Watch and be amazed, kiddos. Mr. Muscles is gonna show you how it’s done.”

Topped with heavy soil and plant, the large clay pot weighed well over a hundred pounds. It would’ve easily taken two average-sized people to lift, but Satoru managed the feat on his own no problem, a testament to how strong he physically was. Hannah had seen him bench press twice his usual body weight with workout equipment. Yet she stayed close behind as he hobbled to the house, awkwardly carrying the pot, for fear he’d throw out his back. She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until he stationed the container near the stairs leading up to the porch. Hannah nodded. This new spot would do nicely.

“Woo, that was good,” Satoru said, wiping the sweat off his brow and looked up at the sky. “Sun is brutal today.”

Hannah agreed. It had grown considerably hot since lunch. Deciding to take a break from the summer sun, the couple collected the clipped roses and walked back inside the house to the reception hall. There on the center table was a glass pitcher filled with ice water, two cups, two damp towels for each to cool off with, and a vase to put the roses in. Makoto sure was sneaky.

“So,” Hannah said, after finishing her first glass of ice water. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”

Satoru ran one of the cool towels over his neck and chin. “Tsumiki and Megumi’s school evaluations came in.”

Hannah poured herself another glass. “And the verdict?”

He put the towel down and smirked. “Take a look for yourself.” She observed him reach inside his back pocket and pull out two opened envelopes. Curious, Hannah walked over and took them from him, re-opening each and laying the contents on the table for a better look.    

Japanese primary school evals (from first to sixth grade) were assessed by a three-tiered rank system (1,2,3), with 1 indicating the student “needs effort,” and 3 indicating the student’s grasp on the subject was “satisfactory” or higher. Hannah eyed the two report cards, noting how Tsumiki scored nothing below a 2 (“almost satisfactory”) with Music, Social Studies, and Japanese being her best subjects. Megumi also received high marks. The lowest he scored was a 2 in Music and English, with Mathematics, Science, Sports (and surprisingly enough, Art) all scoring a 3.

Below the subject lines were the behavior evaluations where teachers listed the students' cooperation in class, both towards staff and the other children. Hannah skimmed those parts, but caught the underlined text “gets into fights” on Megumi’s page. Perhaps she would ask about it later, though overall she was pleased by the outcome. 

“See, I told Megumi he had nothing to worry about,” she laughed. “He did well, and from the looks of it, so did Tsumiki.”

“Tsumiki’s scores are always good,” Satoru said. “But Megumi? His English scores? I’ve never seen them stay above a 1. It’s the only subject he struggles with on top of socializing. These are his marks now.” He revealed to her two other evaluation cards, placing them next to the newer one on the table. “And these were his marks from December and March.”

Hannah examined the older evaluations. His grades looked relatively the same, except for English, which showed a glaring 1 printed in the center box on each. His new score was 2. Megumi had improved his grade by a full number in the course of a single semester.

“Any chance you had something to do with it?” Satoru added slyly.

Hannah looked up. “I didn’t do much,” she said, shaking her head. “He understood the basics. All he needed was someone to explain them better.”

Butterflies swarmed her stomach as his lips came together, grinning so wide it seemed almost maniacal. “Good, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” Hannah blinked at him confused for a moment, but then he explained his reasoning. “I had a meeting with the school board this morning. Jujutsu High, that is.”

“Yes, I remember you telling me. How’d it go?”

He gave her a wink. “The wait is officially over. You, my dear Hannah, are looking at Jujutsu High’s new hire.”

Hannah’s eyes widened. “Really? They gave you the teaching job?” Satoru nodded and a beaming smile soon appeared on her face. “Oh Satoru, congratulations. That’s wonderful news. I’m happy for you.”

Her husband bashfully scratched his head. “Thanks. My first day won’t be till next year, so there’s still time, but that’s not all.” He lifted a finger, tapping her lightly on the nose. “The department will also be in search of a new English teacher soon.”

Her smile faltered. “An English teacher?”

“Yeah.” Satoru walked over and situated himself down on one of the cushions, leaning his elbow on the table. “Seems the current one is looking to throw in the towel. To be honest, I don’t know much about him - cause yours truly tested out of English freshman year - but apparently he’s been teaching English since the late Cretaceous or whatever, and during the meeting he asked if we knew anybody interested in filling the role,” he pointed at her, “and I said you.”

“M-Me?” Hannah squeaked.

He nodded. “Yeah, you.”

A couple seconds ticked by, the news of this proposal slowly sinking in.

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not joking.”

“You think I could teach English at Jujutsu High?

“If you wanted to,” he caveated.

“And the school board wouldn’t mind? Spouses working together, I mean.”

“I don’t see the harm.” Satoru shrugged. “It’s not like English and Jujutsu orbit in the same circles.”

“Why would you mention my name, Satoru? I don’t have a uni degree or a teaching certificate.”

“Neither do I,” her quickly husband rebutted. “I never went to university. The only certification I have is a high school diploma.”

“But that’s still more than I have. And my Japanese citizenship hasn’t been finalized. Won’t that hinder things?”

Satoru waved his hand. “Naw, we’ll find our way around that crap. We do it all the time.”

“Then what of the estate? If we’re both busy teaching, who’s going to run it? Makoto can’t juggle the work all by herself.”

“The estate is busy now because I’ve been putting off renovations for years. Once those are completed things’ll start to die down.”

“I have no credentials, Satoru,” Hannah pleaded, hammering the message home. “No references. No formal education. I don’t even know the first thing about preparing lectures or grading papers, and this would be high school level English, not sixth grade. My public speaking skills are rubbish. I’ll make a complete fool of myself in front of everyone.”

“No, you won’t,” Satoru assured, taking her hands. “I’ll be here to help. Plus, you’ll have a year to prepare, and Jujutsu High’s enrollment has been on the decline for decades. The classes shouldn’t exceed more than a handful of students at most.”

“But what if someone else needs the job?” Hannah kept lamenting. “Someone with experience who’s better qualified. I’d be selfishly taking the opportunity away from them.”

“Then that’s their loss,” Satoru tisked, rolling his eyes. “Don't get me wrong, Princess, I admire your compassion - love it even - but we gotta strike while the iron is hot here. Nobody is gonna shame you for being ambitious every once in a while. The reason I’m asking is because I think you’d be right for the job. Give you something to do besides loafing around the house all day making flower arrangements,” he tucked a strand of loose auburn hair behind her ear, his new favorite habit, and tilted her chin up to look at him as his voice grew soft. “Can’t have those good brains go to waste now, hmm?”

Hannah looked away, a flush forming on her cheeks. “Flower arranging isn’t ‘loafing around,’” she pouted, crossing her arms. “I've been outside since dawn.”

She felt Satoru bridge the gap between them, wrapping her in his embrace.

“Look,” he sighed defeatistly in her hair. “Forget I said anything. It’s obvious you're not interested.”

Rather than push him away, Hannah leaned more into him, resting her head comfortably on his chest. She felt so safe there, entranced by the steady rhythm of his heart. “I never said I wasn’t interested,” she mumbled into his cotton tee. “I’m simply questioning how it would work.”

“Oh, it would work,” he chuckled deeply, chest rumbling under her cheek. “I’d make it work.”

“You shouldn’t use your position to land me a job, Satoru. It’ll be seen as corrupt.”

“Hey, there’s gotta be some perks to being me,” he joked. “Not like I’d have to say much. You’re from England, the frickin’ motherland of English. What other credentials would they need?”

“A lot.”

He laughed and undid her braid, combing his fingers through her long shiny hair. She didn’t tell him no because it felt nice. “Just tell me you’ll think about it, okay?” he said. “Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“But what about — “

“Nope, no more buts.”

“But I — “

“Access denied.”

“Satoru.”

“Satoru is unable to take your call at this time. Please leave a message and he will get back with you after this obnoxiously long beep. Beeeeeeeeeee…. ”

Hannah slumped and let out the smallest exhale, thus giving up the fight. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”

He paused mid-beep.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Yay!” He hugged her closer, lifting her off the ground and swaying back and forth. “Knew you wouldn’t let me down, Princess. I knew it, knew it, knew it.”

Hannah couldn’t help but smile. Cheek smothered against him, he placed her back on the ground, allowing her to tilt her head up.

The Six Eyes were like twin spheres of blue abalone, shining down at her. She could see every shade and tint; turquoise, chalcedony, larimar, the sky and sea. How she adored looking at his eyes. They were none of this world. Magnetized, she found herself standing on her tippy toes, lips soft and pliant, wanting to be nearer. Words needn’t be exchanged. Satoru got the message and lowered his hands to her hips. Gravity became weightless as he propelled her upwards again, bringing their mouths together, her body melting into his sweet kiss.

It was good they had these moments to fall back on because the next few days would not be as kind. This was but the calm before the storm.

Rougher waters lay ahead.

Chapter Contents

[theelizamanelli]

Tengoku

(ongoing)

Reina Iyashi wants a normal, mundane existence until Satoru Gojo takes a special interest in her uncanny ability to bring people back to life (or so Itadori says) and offers her a job as his assistant at Jujutsu High. Tags: 18+, satoru gojo x female oc, boss x assistant, golden retriever x black cat, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, romance ao3 link chapter one chapter two chapter three chapter four chapter five chapter six chapter seven chapter eight chapter nine chapter ten chapter eleven if you want to be notified when a new chapter is posted

[str4wkinzi]

NO LONGER YOUR OWN. pt 2 :3

Sukuna x Reader :3 + a surprise guest (guess who winkwink but hes in like demon/curse form giggles)

NSFW CONTENT!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

(I had NO idea for a part 2 cuz i wasn’t thinking this far so its gonna be super sort sorry babes)

There is bootyhole stuff in this so BEWARE THE BOOTY!!!

Part 1 <3 Part 3

A week later, Sukuna had never left your side. Day after day he kept others far away from you. Your friends wanted to go out? No. A boy you met asked you out? Definitely not.

He likes to keep you in his domain with him. He sits you in his lap and grabs the bottom of your face, making your lips meet his and grinding you down onto his aching cock.

In all truthfulness, he’s never felt like this towards anything. Especially a human. Maybe it’s just a phase. I mean, it’s been a while since someones summoned him.

He tried to force ask you to throw away all those other useless spell books even though they were flukes. He wouldn’t admit it, but even if they were flukes, he hated the thought of another taking you.

He was scared of one of them suddenly working and you summoning another demon or whatever.

What you both didn’t know was.. you ordered another book. You didn’t read the description. If you bought one book you got the other free but just a little while later.

You hear your doorbell ring and you open the door. You look down to see.. a box? You didn’t order anything else.

You take the box to your room, were Sukuna is laying on the bed. You take the book out of the box and it has eyes all over it..? All the eyes are looking in different directions.

“What do you have in your hands?”

You jump as you hear Sukuna’s groggy voice.

“Nothing, it’s just a book.” You reply.

When you turn back to the book all the eyes are looking directly at you. You yelp and Sukuna gets up from his position. He’s wiping his eyes, when he looks down at you holding that book its far too late.

The books already shaking in your grasp. Sukuna looks irritated as the book floats into the air. The books eyes sprout off of the book and into the air around it, starting to spin around the book as white fills your vision.

You’re still sitting on the floor. When you open your eyes after being blinded with light for a second you see..

“Hello there little human!” The man erupts.

A white haired man with blindfolds over his eyes is bending down to meet your gaze. Well, he isn’t exactly- fuck it.

You hear Sukuna grumbling from your bed and the man looks over at him.

“Ah, i see you’ve already summoned my good friend over here!” He smiles as he looks back at you.

“From the looks of it.. he hasn’t told you about me, has he? Oh well!” He says while lifting his blindfold up, exposing all six of his eyes.

“I am Satoru Gojo. And you, little human. Who might you be?” Gojo says with a chuckle.

You begin to speak but Sukuna cuts you off.

“Mine. They’re mine.” Sukuna says, getting off your bed and pulling you up on your feet against his chest. He pulls your shirt up, exposing his mark.

“My, my, my good friend here has really taken a liking to you. Thats rare y’know.”

With two 8 foot tall men glaring at each other above you, you feet below them, it’s kinda hard to think about anything.

This lasts for a minute before Gojo grabs your chin and lifts it up to meet his.

“C’mon old buddy, let’s not fight in front of this lovely thing.” He says with a grin.

Sukuna takes you away from Gojo and back into his arms.

“Let’s find a different way to settle this, okay?” Gojo adds.

“You can’t hog, Sukuna.” Gojo whines as Sukuna pushes your head down on his cock. You could barely handle one of their cocks, now you have to handle two.

With both of them fighting to get your mouth on his cock, all you could do was… nothing.

Going to one then going to the other eventually got them both close. When they both came on your face..

“Fuck, you look like such a slut.” Sukuna spat.

“You look so beautiful, human. All covered in our cum.”

The mix of being praised just to be degraded again makes how you got to this point confusing.

Sukuna loves you. He would never admit that. He’s come so low as to have humane feelings for a humane human.

Gojo has taken a liking to you already. If Sukuna likes you then he’ll love you.

You’re sitting on Sukuna’s lap, him playing with your chest as Gojo eats you out.

Sukuna loves hearing you moan he’d never admit that but he hates when he’s the one making you moan like this. He starts biting your neck while using his other hand to lift your chin up. He’s whispering in your ear but you cant focus on anything right now.

Right after you cum in Gojo’s mouth, Sukuna lays down with you on his chest. Sukuna’s arms wrap around your legs and lift them up, exposing you to Gojo.

Sukuna whispers in your ear about how you’re his while pushing his cock inside your hole. You don’t get a moments breather before Gojo begins to push his cock inside you as well.

Having just one of them inside of you was already a lot. Having two makes it even.. better? With both of them moving in a way that makes sure you stay full you can’t help the moans that fall from your lips.

With you lost in pleasure, you barely even notice how they’re glaring at each other above you. After several minutes of that, Gojo chuckles and speeds up his movements.

Sukuna notices this and speeds up his movements as well.

With them both pounding your cunt like wild animals all you can do is endure the pleasure befalling you.

You knew that this doubled as a competition to them, mainly Sukuna.

Sukuna had been whispering in your ear to not say his name under any circumstances. Gojo almost begged you to say his name.

“Don’t say his name.” Sukuna spat, almost getting cut off by Gojo.

“Say it, little human. Say my name, you already know it.” Gojo pleaded.

You didn’t quite understand why probably because they were fucking your brains out but as soon as Gojo hit your G-spot.. it was over. A loud scream of ‘Satoru Gojo.’

Gojo lifted his blindfold and grabbed your chin. He looks into your eyes for a second before chuckling and fucking you even harder. He kisses you deeply, earning a scowl from the man below you.

Yeah, he won’t like it. Gojo doesn’t care.

Groans and moans fill the space around you. Round after unending round almost seem unfulfilling to both of the men fucking you senseless.

Really, its almost as if you aren’t there. You don’t really know if their little competition is to see ‘who can cum in you the most’ or ‘who can make you cum the most.’ All you know is that your brain is completely mush by now.

With cum escaping both of your holes they finally notice you’re getting overstimulated. After they both cum inside you for the umpteenth time they stop and let you breathe.

You start to feel a pleasuring sensation right where Sukuna’s mark is. Overstimulated whimpers drip from your lips like sweet honey.

Sukuna knows its too late.

Gojo knows its just getting started.

While you’re writhing on the bed they both watch as six eyes appear around Sukuna’s mark, signaling Gojo has also claimed you.

Curses stream from Sukuna’s lips as Gojo chuckles.

STR4WZ STICKY NOTE &lt; its been 3 days gang… daddy missed all my kittens… LMAO ANYWAYS!! i had NO clue for what i should do for a part two. This js like went kablewie in my head and bam its here!! Thanks so much love you all STR4WKINZI AWAYYYY!!! 3

[d3adlyromb3ar]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。sinking lily pads master list

— series synopsis. he thrived in the sorcerer world, she was forced into it. how could two people that strayed so differently from each other become so close?

— series pairing. gojo x oc!fem!reader (main), toji fushiguro x oc!fem!reader

— series contents. heavy child abuse, torture, neglect, abandonment, angsty asf, injuries, blood/gore, depressing thoughts, suicidal ideation, dissociation, ptsd, mentions of death, jjk violence/fighting (to be added)

— series status. in progress.

oc character inspiration

chapters.

♡ chapter one. moon dair

♡ chapter two. lives left

♡ chapter three. no point in forgetting

♡ chapter four. lost fragments

♡ chapter five. this is who you've become, a monster

♡ chapter six. fear driven

♡ chapter seven. wounded

♡ chapter eight. more alike than we thought

— notes. more chapters to be added 🤍

[tripleyeeet]

NOT SO FRAGILE

SUMMARY: After a rough mission, Satoru vows to take care of his partner, even if it means emotionally stepping a little out of his comfort zone. PAIRING: Satoru Gojo/Original Female Character (Kiko belongs to @gunslingerorchid) WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, bathtub sex, fingering, penetrative sex, brief mentions of a thigh job/hand job, implied cockwarming/somno, also little emotional angst as a treat because I can't write smut unless there's feelings. A/N: Please, for the love of god, if you're going to read ANYTHING I write, let it be this. I am genuinely so proud of it. WC: 3.8K

MASTERLIST

When he sees her like this, the ache, unfortunately, only grows. As he watches her shift across the table, pulling at the fabric of her shirt with a wince, it’s like his thoughts become all-consumed. The undeniable urge to reach across and comfort becoming his only priority, leaving the rest of his gruelling tasks to rot at the back of his mind alongside the meeting they’re currently stuck inside. All of it falling to the wayside —her figure struggling to find the right way to sit on bruised hips and thighs becoming all that he sees as her small hisses of pain somehow muffle the sound of Yaga’s detailed instructions.

And deep down, he knows he should be paying attention. He’s the strongest after all, and although he’s leagues above the rest, he’s well aware that meetings like this are important, too. The information they provide serving as tools to only better his strength. So, he tries to focus. Turning his attention to Yaga —glancing at Nanami and Hitomi and anyone else who might serve to distract him from the one person he wants to stare at most. 

Releasing a deep breath, he leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest. Then, he narrows his eyes behind his mask, hardening his expression in hopes the new position will somehow make the pain of averting his gaze less awful. 

As expected, though, it doesn’t work. Instead, serving to only worsen the blow, by the time the meeting’s over he’s already a mess of grief and confusion. The stress on his face clearly evident as they all pile out of the room and go their respective ways, causing Satoru to stay behind, lingering by the door until Kiko brushes past, prompting him to pull her aside. 

“You okay?”

His tone is unnaturally worrisome. An echo of something that makes her narrow her eyes and look up at him almost stubbornly. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You don’t look fine.” 

Her face scrunches further as he gently drags her from the doorway down the hall by the crook of her elbow, her body instinctively following him to his classroom like she usually does. “You saying I look bad?”  

He scoffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “No, no, I’m saying you look hurt,” he clarifies. “Rough mission?”

Without having to see it, Kiko can tell his expression is filled with concern. Solely based on the tone of his voice —the lack of usual excitement in regards to hearing about her missions making it painfully obvious, causing her to sigh. “I’m fine, Toru.”

“You don’t look fine,” he repeats. Not because he wants to make this an argument or to poke fun, but because he needs her to understand that he’s here for her. “What happened?” 

“Mis-ranked curse,” she mutters. 

“Ah.” He nods, but still, he makes it obvious he wants to continue talking when he invites her into his room; closing the door behind them with a sigh. “Why didn’t you call me?” 

She sighs back, her shoulders slumping a bit. “Because I knew you’d be busy.”

“Not for you.” 

He practically cuts her off when he says it as if already predicting her response before she’s even given in. 

It makes her frown, despite the sentiment. A huff escaping from her lips when he starts to move in closer, weaving his hands up the nape of her neck to imbed long fingers into her hair. The proximity quickly lessening as he bends out of his tower to press his forehead to hers. 

“You know I’d drop everything if you called.” 

Again, she huffs. Her lips parting to create a heavy plume of air that hits Satoru’s mouth. The scent of her breath suddenly making it hard to focus on the fact that he’s supposed to be taking care of her. Or, rather, reassuring her that he wants to since she insists on being so stubborn about it. 

“Don’t give me that look, you know it’s true.” 

Against her better judgement, Kiko’s lips shift into a half-hidden smirk. The kind that has his chest pounding against his ribcage, threatening to crack until it can escape his chest and land safely into the palm of her hands where it belongs. 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Then call next time. Please.” 

There’s a hint of desperation in his voice, but neither of them mention it. Instead, choosing to push past the conversation altogether, they return to their usual routine of finishing paperwork behind his desk. Both of them sitting beside one another in silence until he inevitably interrupts; distracting her with whatever random thought that decides to pop into his head.

And it’s simple, Satoru thinks. Easy. 

But still, as they embrace familiarity, the thought of her injuries still linger at the back of his mind. The growing urge to caress her. To trace the discoloured splotches that line her tender skin with deft, but gentle hands— causing him to become distracted. That same thought eventually driving his fingers to rest on her thigh, drawing patterns with his thumb as he writes field reports and lesson plans. 

“What do you want to do for dinner, by the way?” 

Pausing, Kiko glances over; her eyes flicking between the squeeze of his hand and the small smile that’s suddenly begun to pull across his lips. Both gestures making her stomach twist with admiration. “Take out?” 

Satoru snorts, unsurprised. “What kind?” 

“Sukiya?” 

This time, he playfully rolls his eyes. Her expected answer making him chuckle to himself, but ultimately agrees, knowing it’s what she wants. “Fine, but we’re stopping for mochi, too.” 

She smirks. “Fine.”

After that, they fall back to their previous rhythm of work until their stomachs are aching and their eyes are drooping. The reminder that they actually need to eat and sleep forcing them to leave campus hand-in-hand, making their way to Ichiji’s car. 

“How was your mission, by the way? You didn’t even brag about it,” Kiko says, slipping inside the backseat while giving their friend in the driver’s seat a quick wave.

Before he answers, Satoru greets Ichiji and tells him where to go. “Grade one curse. Nothing special.” 

“Right, right, of course,” she replies sarcastically as she pulls the seatbelt over her shoulder. “How could I forget? Grade one’s are pieces of cake for you.” 

Satoru chuckles and follows suit; buckling himself in. “Probably has something to do with your bad memory.”

She feigns offence at that, dropping her jaw. “I don’t have a bad memory!”

“You do, actually,” he teases. The softness in his voice easily showing that he’s kidding as he raises her hand to his mouth to give it a quick kiss. “Always so forgetful. I should start looking at retirement homes.” 

“Rude.” 

All he does is snort and lean a bit closer, pressing another kiss to her temple followed by her cheek. “Hey, I’m just planning for the future. I’m your boyfriend, remember? Gotta take care of you.” 

Despite the kind sentiment, his words instantly make Kiko’s mind shift. Their once playful back-and-forth becoming something that makes her chest ache as she slowly turns away, finding him too much. The constant pressure of him wanting to tend to her wounds without asking making her fall silent as they grab dinner and dessert. 

And it’s something that Satoru recognizes pretty early on into the night. The usual signs of her shutting down becoming progressively worse as time goes on. Both her body and mind drifting to places he knows he’s not allowed to go despite endlessly begging and pleading for her to let him in, knowing deep down it’s for his own selfish reasons. 

Because he just needs to take care of her. Even if she doesn’t want to accept it, he needs her to know that he cares. That he’s always going to be there, lingering in the background with a shield or a blade —acting as a stand-in for whatever tool she might need to get through the battle. No matter what he’ll be there for it. For her. Even if it’s merely to hold her hand when things get tough or to shower her with praise or exist on the same wavelength so that she doesn’t feel so alone. 

He’d do anything to make her feel good. So, when they arrive at his apartment and she looks at him with those tired eyes so empty, yet filled with a grief he knows all too well, he makes sure to give her what she needs. 

“How about I run us bath after dinner?”

It’s the first thing that comes to mind when they’re sitting on the couch, hungrily consuming their curry. And thankfully, it’s a thought that gets her cheeks to heat up as she nods and produces the faintest of smiles. 

“Yeah, okay.”

Smiling back, he drops his fork into the bowl and reaches for her hair, running his hand along her scalp before leaning it to pepper her face in pecks. The kind that tickles against her skin, causing her to laugh and swat him away. The gesture both warming his heart and making him huff, pretending to be annoyed. 

“’S’cuse you, I was kissing that.”

“And now you’re not,” she quips. “Eat your dinner. I paid good money for it.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, on my card.”

Mid-bite, she gives him a devilish, little smirk that has him falling to pieces. His heart racing while his eyes drop to stare at the pull of her lips. 

God, she’s always had the softest-looking lips. 

Even when they were younger, he used to fantasize about what they’d feel like melding against his own. How they might taste after their usual soda runs on hot summer days or late-night candy runs before curfew.

Thankfully, nowadays, he can confirm they’re most definitely the softest things he’s ever had the pleasure of touching. More gentle than fine silk of feathered down. More delicious than cheesecake or purin or—

“Toru, my eyes are up here.” 

He can already see that previous smirk of hers growing. One of his own starting to form as he refuses to part ways with the position of her mouth slowly but surely creeping further across her face.

“I can see them.”

“Through my mouth?” 

His eyes flicker up. “I have peripherals.” 

She hums before taking another bite of her curry. The motion of her mouth once again making him glance back down, focusing on the way they move as he picks up his fork to take a bite, too. 

“I don’t even know why I bother trying to deter you.”

“From what?”

“You being a slut.” 

He laughs, shuffling around a few pieces of rice as he finally tears his eyes away from her mouth. “Sorry for admiring your assets.”

“You should be.” 

“I am, I swear.” 

In mock defence, he holds up his fork and bowl, watching her shake her head and bring her legs up onto the couch to sprawl across his lap —her feet gently bumping his knees before they settle. 

Almost immediately, the familiar feeling causes him to discard his half-eaten food on the coffee table. The desire to just keep feeling her beneath his greedy hands becoming increasingly hard to deal with as he massages her calves.

“Not even gonna finish your food. Shameless.” 

He catches her shaking her head again as she shovels another bite into her mouth. Then, when he looks over, digging his digits into her flesh to drag at taut muscles, they share a knowing grin that ripples his heart. The slight glimpse of sauce peeking between her lips before she licks it away, causing Satoru to genuinely stop himself from groaning.

Which becomes a big theme over the course of the night. As he continues to pamper her, massaging her legs and cleaning up the remnants of their meal before running a bath, he has to stop himself from caving in. Knowing she’s probably still feeling a bit sore from this morning’s mission, he has to bite his tongue from making suggestive remarks and (mostly) keep his hands to himself. To be the world’s most perfect gentleman/boyfriend, even when he’s leading her to the bath before helping take off her clothes.

“Careful.” 

As he’s raising the hem of her shirt he pauses, noticing the pain on her face. The reminder of the cuts and bruises she’s now forced to sport, causing him to nod and cautiously pull up the fabric. Slow and steady hands refusing to touch her newly stained skin as he frowns at the sight.

It’s worse than he imagined. Not that, that should surprise him, really. Kiko’s always been known to downplay the worst of things. Always far too prideful to admit that sometimes she breaks, he can already feel the embarrassment of her actions spreading throughout the room. The small plume of air that pushes through her nose when he slowly reaches out, tracing his hands down the curve of her side, serving as evidence. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she says, and Satoru has to stop himself from calling her an idiot. 

“How bad does it hurt?” 

“Bad-ish.” 

He feels her twitch beneath his thumb when he traces the highest bruise. A particularly colourful patch that appears to spread across the expanse of her ribs, peeking out from beneath her sports bra in a way that makes him swallow. 

“How’d it happen?”

“Got flung through a few walls.” 

His heart aches. Her admission making his jaw clench as he proceeds to lower himself down onto the floor to get a better look. Allowing himself the opportunity to finally inspect the damage to the thing he loves most in order to prove to himself that she’s okay.

“Did you go see Shoko yet?” 

He looks up to see her shake her head, which only worsens the gnawing within his chest, prompting him to ask: “Will you go tomorrow, please?” 

Her lips press together in a thin line, but she relents, granting Satoru a breath of relief that quickly becomes muffled against her skin. A moment of weakness quickly turned act of reverence when he starts pressing soft pecks to each bruise. Treating each one like a sin he must absolve as his hands ghost her hips and the desperate hum in his throat starts to sound like a choir singing nothing but praise. 

At which point, all previous resolve becomes nothing more than a memory. The touch and taste of her skin sending waves of desire through his flesh and bones. The need to cherish her in the most simple, human way he can, causing him to look up.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” 

He sees her swallow and shake her head. The simple motion driving him further into madness knowing that she was all alone being violently tossed around for the sake of people who know nothing —not even her name.

“It’s okay,” she says. 

“It’s not,” he argues.  

Then, another huff followed by a tender kiss in retaliation inevitably leads them to put aside their differences and get in the tub. Every article of cloth stripped away in favour of skin pressed against skin as she sits between his parted legs; back to front. His body gently wrapping around her so that they stay connected. 

Which inevitably leads to wandering hands and hungry lips. Both working in tandem to praise her efforts instead of diminish them as he sometimes does. 

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he whispers into the shell of her ear. His voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver up her spine that makes him selfishly grin. “You’re okay, yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Without missing a beat, his hand dips between her thighs beneath the water and begins to spread her apart. The hum of arousal in her throat only growing when he trails his thumb across her clit and sucks her pulse, causing the back of her head to meet his shoulder just as his other fingers start to slowly slip down.

“Just keep relaxing, sweetheart. I got you,” he tells her, and like always, whenever he’s got her like this, she just listens. Sitting so still and pretty that he’s forced to groan into her ear at how uncharacteristically docile she’s become. The fire that usually stirs within her, now snuffed out thanks to the wave of his hand, pushing through her walls. Nestling themselves as far as they can before starting to pump at whatever rhythm makes her cry out the most. 

It makes him hard —the sounds she makes. All the puffs of air mixed beneath whimpers and whines. Every noise making it impossible for him to resist the urge to inevitably become self-serving as maneuvers her slit to the head of his cock and begins to push down. The added sound of a gasp causing his mouth to grace her temple.

“If it hurts—“

“It’s okay, Satoru.” 

Her tone is filled with impatience. A feeling he knows all too well, prompting his hands to find the unbruised spots on her hips and thighs to help shift her position. Both of them desperately moving to work up her core to the point where she’s just saying his name. Over and over; mumbling it out into the open air in a way that shows that she needs him. 

That, for once in his life, he can be useful to the person he loves most.

Which is a thought that only further spurs him on. As he raises his hips, following the flow of her own, he begins to pick up speed. The fight to keep a balance of comfort and pleasure weighing on his mind each time his fingers blindly move over her skin. 

He prays he doesn’t hurt her when he pistons up particularly hard. And again, when his fingers instinctively squeeze the spaces they’ve managed to find a home in. His mind slowly allowing the distraction of his own oncoming orgasm to become heavy and sloppy until he feels her writhing against him. The flutter of walls surrounding his cock making it hard to resist coming inside. 

He doesn’t know why, but his body ends up twitching the most it ever has, causing the groan that spills out to sound haggard. Like the dying breath of a priest giving his last words to God, his mouth praises her efforts. Speaking over the continuing smacks of skin and deep, heavy breaths, he worships her for ages. His body becoming a coil of pain wrapped around pleasure the longer he holds out. His mind slowly becoming a broken record of I love you’s mixed alongside intelligible phrases that become lost in the crook of her neck.

And it goes on for seemingly ever. To the point where, once they actually manage to stall out, neither of them makes any real effort to move. Not until the bath starts to cool and Kiko’s body starts shivering, causing him to sigh and gently kiss her face. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” he says, and, without having to say another word, she slips off of him gently. The soft groan he emits in response to the loss of contact making her chuckle and shakily rise from the tub.

“You’re such a leech.” 

He pouts and follows behind her, ignoring her comment in favour of grabbing a handful of her ass as he hands her a towel. “I don’t hear you complaining.” 

“Fair point.” 

Both of them grin and dry off. The previous tension between them sort of rising and falling as it often does. The urge to just grab her again coming to mind when he catches short flashes of her skin beneath the moving towel. His expression throughout the process causing her to laugh again as she wraps herself up and unplugs the tub. 

“At least, give me like twenty minutes to recuperate,” she tells him then, already reading his mind. 

In response, his grin widens while his eyes grow big. The rings of his irises practically glowing as he follows her to the bed, flopping down stomach first before turning to lean on his elbow and watch her descend onto her back with a groan. The reminder that she’s still very much hurt quickly coming to mind as he reaches for his hand. 

“Shit, was that too much?” 

She looks over, a pained expression on her face. “A bit, yeah.” 

“We don’t have to—“

She silences him with the squeeze of her hand. A gesture so simple, yet supportive that he just stops and stares, watching her smile and shake her head. “I’m not as fragile as you think I am, you know.” 

And he knows she’s right because she’s the strongest person he’s ever met. And yet, here he is reducing her to nothing but broken glass that he feels the need to put together again. A feeling he’s only had for her. A feeling that wracks him with enough guilt to look her dead in the eye and truthfully say that he’s sorry.

Which is so uncharacteristically him. With his cocky and often unfiltered attitude being the thing he’s most known for, it’s extremely rare for him to offer that kind of vulnerability. Even if he does give her the most out of anyone, the fact that he says it out loud at that moment really speaks more volumes than he realizes. The admittance of his failures making Kiko soften her expression and begin to sit up. Her body willing itself to forget about the previously asked for time of rest to press her mouth to his.

And, as expected, it’s soft. Starting as a gentle press, it slowly grows in weight as time goes on. Their mouths moving together almost lazily as she straddles his thigh. Their bodies twisting together in a mess of limbs, wrapping around each other. Connection in familiar ways that still somehow feel almost new when she nips at his lips and strokes his cock. Every combination of motion making him reach for her waist as she rocks against him, building up the slick of her thighs, melting onto his while his own collects between her fingers. Neither one of them caring about the gradual mess of come that builds between them. 

In fact, all it does is make it that much better. The slow, intimate way she builds the pleasure for both of them filling his chest with a heat he knows is love. A love he’s always had stuck at the base of his chest since he’s known her. A love that’s sometimes complicated and off-putting but for now remains unspoken and understood. 

For what seems like hours, they go again and again. Waves of pleasure followed by steady pools of downtime that go well into the night. Neither one of them bothering to care about the exhaustion that takes over when he inevitably finds himself nestled inside her once more; continually pumping as she rests on his chest, barely awake to show her appreciation.

[ambiguouslady42]

About Me

My name is Steph. I'm in my 30's. Not many people know about my love for anime OR my current crush on Satoru Gojo. I have a love for music and movies; you will see those references in my writing.

I began writing fanfic as a form to pass the time and to put ideas that randomly come up in my head. I look forward to engaging with my followers and those who want to just have a chat.

Masterlist

Member of @pixelcafe-network.