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madaqueue · 25 days

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Dripping in Gold | Chapter 1

synopsis: finding a job was never easy, and why even bother trying after you meet satoru gojo, a man with mysterious and exorbitant wealth, who wants nothing more than to spoil you with it? the only caveat to your little arrangement is that it can never, ever, become personal.

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au, sugar daddy gojo. language, angst, light smut. alcohol mention, masturbation (f). 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.6k

a/n: IT'S HERE AHHHH hope y'all like this one :)

series masterlist | next chapter

God, I need to get a job.

The afternoon sun filters in through the blinds as you scroll through your phone, trying to distract yourself from the reality of your future. You graduated college months ago and still have no idea what you want to do or how to do it. Application after application, shitty interview after shitty interview, and you’re still no further into the career that’s supposed to be the rest of your life.

Sighing, you prop yourself up on your elbows in bed to take in the space around you - clothes were strewn across the floor of your studio apartment, dirty dishes piled in the sink, empty takeout containers from restaurants you certainly couldn’t afford to be eating at. It was all just too much.

Eh, I’ll get around to it, you think, laying back into the pillows and returning to your phone. You navigate to check your bank account, just to see the damage that months of unemployment have done.

“Balance: $68.06”

Shit. That’s not even enough to make rent this month, and even if you did have a job lined up you’ve already asked your landlord for one extension on your payments and he did not seem very open to the prospect of doing it again.

Trying to shut out the thought of possibly losing your apartment, you move over to Instagram to quiet the dread building inside of you. Scrolling through posts of your friends on yachts, traveling the country, eating expensive dinners with expensive-looking people, you only feel like more of a failure.

How are they able to do it? I mean, sure, they at least have jobs, but none of them pay well enough to do this, right?

You hover over one of your friend’s pictures, trying to recognize the incredibly well-dressed, albeit much older, man she’s seated across from. As you zoom in, it suddenly clicks - her new jewelry, the expensive bottle of champagne, fresh nails, styled hair - and you remember your conversation with her the last time you saw each other.

You were both out at a bar and she kept buying rounds of shots for you and all your friends.

“Dude, not to be a total dick, but how are you able to afford all this?” you shout over the music blasting through the speakers.

“Oh m’god, you aren’t gonna believe it” she slurs slightly, “there’s this app where rich guys pay you to just go on dates with ‘em, I jus’ gotta keep lookin’ pretty and they pay me so much.”

“Don’t you have to, like, fuck them though?” you ask, curiously raising an eyebrow.

“Only if y’wanna! You’re not really supposed to, but they pay you a lot more!” she grins.

At the time you pushed the conversation to the back of your mind and promptly forgot about it after a few more drinks, but now the realization crashes over you.

No, there’s no way. You try to shake the idea out of your mind - were you seriously considering getting a sugar daddy before getting a job?

She did make it sound pretty easy though…and I mean, it’s just dates, right?

You hesitantly pull out your laptop to search for the website she had mentioned. There’s no harm in just checking it out, you try to rationalize. Before you know it, you’ve set up a profile and have picked out a few pictures of yourself that make you look particularly hot - you out at a bar, you on the beach, you with your friends.

After you finalize your profile, the screen suddenly fills with pictures of, frankly, less-than-attractive older men. You roll your eyes and scoff at your own stupidity for even considering this idea, starting to shut your laptop before something catches your eye in the corner of the screen.

Bright white hair and piercing blue eyes look back at you through the computer. Holy shit, he’s hot, you think as you move your mouse to click on his profile.

Bio: “My name’s Gojo, but you can call me yours 🥰 23, casual only”

Okay, so he’s hot, rich, and practically the same age as you? You feel like you’ve struck gold. Besides, he only wants something casual, which is all you’re interested in anyways since you still need to focus on finding a job eventually, but this could at least help you financially bridge the gap between then and now.

Swiping up, you decide to just send him a message and hope for the best; after all, the worst he can say is no.

You: Gojo, I need you to be fr with me - does that pickup line in your bio ever actually work?

Sighing, you move to close your computer as you wait for him to respond, but a message pops up almost instantly.

Gojo: Why don’t you find out tonight over dinner - 7:30 work for you?

A smile starts to form on your lips - this was almost too easy. The two of you briefly confirm the details of your first date before you finally shut your laptop and start getting ready.

–

Standing outside of the restaurant, you’re suddenly hit with a wave of nervousness as the reality of what you’re about to do sets in.

There’s no way this is a good idea - maybe I should just go home. No, no, I’ve made it this far, and I really do need the money.

You inhale a shaky breath as you try to steady yourself before reaching for the door and walking inside. The restaurant is beautiful, the scent of fresh bread and herbs hitting your nose as soon as your feet step onto the dark wood of the floor. The deep red walls make the space feel cozy, intimately lit with candles and a chandelier hanging overhead. You glance down at the burgundy dress and black heels you decided on since they were the nicest clothes you owned, yet you still feel slightly underdressed.

Glancing around the restaurant, the white-haired man is nowhere to be found. “Hi, um, I’m here to meet someone,” you hesitantly explain to the person at the host stand.

“Ah yes, you must be with Mr. Gojo. Right this way,” he gestures for you to follow him. He leads you through the restaurant to the far back corner, unveiling a small room that was initially hidden behind a curtain.

As you adjust to the dim lighting, you glance around the new space in front of you: a single table with roses placed in the middle, and on one side sits perhaps the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He smiles at you as those bright blue eyes meet yours before they slowly move down and up your body, taking you all in.

“Well, aren’t you a treat,” he grins before getting up to pull out the empty chair for you.

When he stands up you allow your gaze to cover him as your eyes shift up to his white locks then down across his black suit, adorned with a dark red tie that somehow perfectly matches your dress.

“You aren’t half-bad yourself,” you respond as you move across the small space to sit down.

“Careful now, don’t flatter me too much or it’ll go to my head,” he smirks as he returns to his seat across from you. He places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in his palm, staring at you.

Trying to break the silence, you murmur, “This place is nice.”

“Mhm,” he hums, eyes never leaving your face.

“So, um, what do you do?” you continue, desperately trying to loosen the pressure you feel from his gaze.

“Do you care?” he taunts, tilting his head to the side with that same smirk on his face.

“W-well, I-” you stammer.

“It’s okay sweetheart, I’m not offended. You’re here because I’m paying you, and I’m here because I wanted to sit across from a beautiful woman. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that,” he smiles.

The combination of the pet name and him calling you beautiful suddenly makes your cheeks flush and you look down at the table, trying to hide your reddening face.

Suddenly you feel a hand on your chin as Gojo gently tilts your head back up. “Eyes up here, princess,” he purrs. “After all, what’s the point of this little date if I can’t even look at you?”

Something about his touch, his voice, his words has your heart fluttering in your chest. You’ve never been nervous like this over a guy before, and you’ve barely just met him.

You swallow, trying to keep your eyes on his but it almost feels like he’s seeing into you, somehow able to view the depths of your soul. You feel naked in front of him, like he’s looking at your very essence.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally breaks the eye contact with a chuckle. “Sorry, I know I can come off a little intense sometimes. You’re just so gorgeous it feels like I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t try to take it all in.”

A sigh escapes your lips as you finally tear your gaze away from him, softly laughing at the compliment.

The rest of the date goes smoothly - he orders the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu and tells you to get whatever you want, since it’s obviously his treat. The conversation flows easily between the two of you, and you find yourself genuinely enjoying your time with him. When it comes time to leave, he thanks you for spending the night with him and gives you his phone number in case you ever want to go out again. As you part ways to walk towards your car, you get a notification from your bank.

Holy. Shit.

Your eyes widen at the screen. Gojo sent you $2,000.

You almost feel dizzy, not having had this much money at once in nearly months. Now you can pay rent and buy groceries and do all the other stuff you were too broke to do. Sitting in your car, you let out a squeal of excitement.

Unfortunately, your joy gets cut short as you go to turn your car on, the key turning repeatedly in the ignition as it stalls out.

Of course, you think, the one time I don’t put gas in this goddamn thing. To your credit, you really couldn’t afford it, and it had lasted longer on empty before. You had also neglected the oil change, and the tire rotation, and the other maintenance the mechanic kept emailing you was overdue, but how were you supposed to pay for all that anyways? Not knowing what to do, you pull out your phone to call someone to help you. As you unlock it, you’re met with Gojo’s contact information he just put in.

I mean, he would definitely help me. And I know he can afford gas. Sighing, you call him.

He answers almost immediately. “Miss me already?”

You want to roll your eyes at his cockiness, but you really do need his help. “My piece of shit car won’t turn on, and I figured you’re probably still close to the restaurant, could you help?”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. I’ll be there in a minute.” Even after just one date, it’s like you can practically hear his smile through the phone.

As promised, he arrives a few minutes later. He drives up in a sleek, black Porsche that has windows so tinted you wouldn’t be able to see inside if he hadn’t rolled his window down. Of course he drives a nice car, you think to yourself.

“Your savior has arrived,” he smirks, leaning his head out the window at you where you stand against your car. Opening the passenger side door reveals the interior of the vehicle, which is just as nice as the outside, with black leather seats and an all-black console. “You know, this is usually the part where you say thank you.” He turns to face you as the scent of his cologne hits you, something woody and crisp.

“Thanks,” you mutter as you settle into the comfortable seat. “You can just take me home.”

“On it,” he responds with a salute.

The drive is quiet as you spiral into your thoughts. How am I supposed to get a job now if I can’t even drive to an interview? How am I even supposed to get groceries? Can I just leave my car at the restaurant? Where else would I even take it? How am I supposed to afford this? Fuck.

Gojo clears his throat next to you, pulling you out of your mind. “You alright over there, sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah, sorry,” you stutter, “just stressed.”

He glances over at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Well, what if I could help you be a little less stressed?”

“Oh yeah, and how would you do that exactly?” Looking down, you suddenly notice his hand on your thigh, his thumb moving in slow circles along your skin. The gentle sensation makes you feel flustered as heat begins to pool between your legs.

Am I seriously about to fuck this guy I just met?

Before you can say anything else, Gojo continues. “How about you use my car while I get yours sorted out for you, hm?” A look of surprise flashes across your face at his kindness and lack of sexual proposition. “What, not the offer you were expecting?” he smirks.

“Gojo, I-” you start.

“Look, princess, I want to do this. Let me help you, please?” he pleads.

“Fine,” you relent, “but I owe you one, seriously.”

“Don’t worry about it. But, if you really insist, I’m sure we can figure out a way for you to repay me at some point.” You tilt your head to look at him as his eyes meet yours, a glint of mischief in his blue irises.

After a few more minutes of him flirting with you, his hand never leaving your thigh, Gojo finally pulls up to your apartment building. Stepping out of the car, he hands you the keys and reminds you not to worry, that he’ll take care of everything. You thank him again as you walk inside - he insists you don’t wait outside while he waits for his ride home - and he sends you off with a wave.

Walking into your apartment, your thoughts swirl in your mind as you replay the events that just transpired. How did you manage to find this rich, handsome, courteous man? More importantly, what’s the catch? If he’s truly as good as he seems, why was he on that website in the first place?

Sighing, you flop onto your bed and peel off your dress, tossing it into the accumulating pile of clothes on the floor. Your skin feels warm where he touched you, a part of you wishing he had inched higher. Before you realize you’re doing it, your hands traverse down your body between your legs, gently pulling your panties to the side.

As you rub over your clit, you picture how his soft fingertips would feel against you, how good those long fingers would feel inside you, beckoning you towards your release. Your other hand traces up your chest, gently cupping your breast as you toy with your firm nipple. His name escapes your mouth as you feel yourself getting closer, eyes shut as you picture him. “Gojo,” you can’t stop yourself from moaning into the empty room as your orgasm hits you, legs shaking, the thought of him the only thing on your mind.

Your breathing slows as you come down from your high, heart still pounding in your chest.

Well, that settles it, you think as you sit up. I guess I am going to fuck him.

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madaqueue · 10 days

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Dripping in Gold | Chapter 10

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au, sugar daddy gojo. language, fluff, angst. kissing, mention of possible abuse. 18+, MDNI

word count: 3.6k

a/n: HERE IT IS!!!! LAST CHAPTER!!!!!! PLOT!!!!!!! thank you all for the support, this has been such a fun series to write <3 xoxoxo

previous chapter | series masterlist

Both of you awake from your fatigue-induced nap a few hours later, the morning sun now bright in the sky. Adjusting in bed, the soreness of your body hits you and you groan in discomfort. The sound is enough to rouse the man next to you as he groggily rubs his eyes.

“Good morning, again,” he laughs softly, reaching down to rub your back.

As his fingertips knead into your skin you lean into his touch, wrapping a leg around his waist under the covers.

“Sore?” he asks, intuitively reading the way you melt under the gentle pressure of his palms against your tight muscles.

“Mhm,” you hum against his chest.

He places a kiss on the top of your head, warm against the heat of your body. “Let me get you cleaned up, yeah? How’s a nice hot shower sound?” he muses idly.

You nod softly in response, not wanting to leave the cocoon of sheets that covers you both but knowing you should eventually get your day started, and having Satoru with you makes the idea much more palatable.

He shifts his weight off the bed, hooking one arm under your knees and the other behind your back to pick you up and bridal carry you to the bathroom. He takes care of everything, gingerly rubbing shampoo into your scalp, attentively rinsing suds off your body, following the trail of water with his lips as he leaves kisses over every inch of you he can find.

When he’s sufficiently cleaned off the physical remnants of the sinful experiences you two shared over the past day, he grabs one of the towels hanging on the back of your door and wraps it around your shoulders.

His tenderness makes your heart swell, the way he so kindly and gently takes care of you without you even having to ask. He knows how to love you silently, how to show his calm adoration towards you in these acts.

The two of you make your way back out to your bed as you sit next to him, leaning against his bare shoulder. He shakes his head, sending droplets flying from his damp hair across the room and onto your face.

A giggle erupts from your lips, the sound bright like windchimes to his ears. “‘Toruuuu,” you whine jokingly as the cold water splashes your skin.

“Sorry,” he blushes, shaking out one more time as you scream through a laugh.

You huff, moving to sit behind him as you pull the towel from your shoulders and place it on his head. Your hands rub it against his hair, Satoru tilting his head back as his eyes flutter closed. Through the warm sun filtering in through the blinds, you silently dry his hair, smiling to yourself at the pure, innocent intimacy of the moment.

When you finish you place a kiss to his forehead, his eyelashes flickering as a grin forms across his face.

Suddenly, a pit forms in your stomach. You’ve been ignoring it, dreading it, running from it for the past day, not wanting to ruin the joy you’ve felt with Satoru. But now it’s here: you have to talk to him.

A sigh leaves your lips, sadness forming across your features. Your eyebrows furrow as your thoughts threaten to spiral.

You can’t lose him again, you can’t. Maybe you shouldn’t talk to him. Maybe you should lie, say you didn’t have feelings for him; but how could you hide it? Things were bad when he was gone, like a dark cloud shadowing everything in your life until he came back, and now you’re supposed to just throw that sunshine away?

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks, sensing the shift in your demeanor.

Desperately blinking away the tears that started forming in your eyes as you were lost in thought, you shake your head.

Satoru wraps his arms around you, pulling you next to him. “Hey, it’s okay, talk to me, pretty girl,” he hums.

“I…I can’t,” your voice waivers.

He places a kiss to your cheek, your skin hot in frustration and fear. “Can’t what?” he asks innocently, trying to piece together what could have you so distressed.

This morning had been perfect, he cherished every second he had spent with you back in his life. Had he somehow unknowingly done something wrong, something that hurt you? The idea pained him to think about, tightening his grasp around you as he tried to push it away.

“I can’t lose you again,” you whisper weakly.

“Sweetheart, you won’t-” he starts.

You cut him off before he can continue, knowing that if you don’t say it now you may never get your chance.

“Satoru, I still have feelings for you. You were all I could think about when we were apart, every morning felt heavier, every action more painful, I couldn’t do anything without you.” Tears start spilling over your lashes as you force your way through the words. “I want you back in my life, but…shit…I want it to be you. I want us to be together, and if you can’t do that, then I don’t think I can see you anymore.”

Pausing, you look up at him through glossy eyes, the sight of you making his heart nearly shatter all over again.

Fuck, how could he explain this to you? How could he tell you everything? More importantly, would you still want him if you knew?

His gaze shifts down to his hands in his lap, his knuckles had begun turning white as he clenched them together in stress.

The words he knows he needs to say echo in his mind as he struggles to will himself into saying them. Taking in an uneven breath, he starts, “I’m sorry, but you know that’s not how this works-”

“Bullshit,” you cut him off abruptly, the harshness of your tone making him flinch. “I know that’s what you said last time, but there’s no way you believe that.”

It can’t be true, right? He acts like he loves you, the way he takes care of you, the way he holds you, the way he glows when you’re around him, the way everything in him softens in your presence - that has to be love, right?

He sighs, shoving his hands together to hide the way they’re shaking.

Reaching over towards him, you place a hand on his cheek, tilting his head towards you. His eyes are low, unable to meet yours as they begin to cloud with sorrow.

“Please,” your voice waivers, “just tell me what’s going on. Tell me you love me, or that you don’t, I don’t care, I just need to know. Please, Satoru,” you plead, “please.”

His thoughts are fuzzy, conflicted with his responsibilities and his feelings. He knows you deserve clarity, answers, but is it worth the risk of losing everything? Losing you?

“Okay,” he whispers, unable to raise his voice any further. His gaze finally lifts to yours, his lashes blinking slowly over his glassy irises.

Nervousness builds in his chest as he struggles to find the words to begin.

“Um…I guess I should tell you about my family,” he begins.

–

Ever since Satoru Gojo was born he knew he was special.

His parents used to tell him he would inherit the world, that he can and will have everything he desires. He wanted a new toy? It was bought and delivered that night. A nanny upset him? She was gone the next day. He was hungry? A buffet was prepared with his favorites. Every person who worked at his estate learned to recognize the sounds of his shrill cries, any minor distress a sign that something must be done to please him.

Throughout his childhood all he did was learn, training for the day he would be allowed to take over the family business. Every day was spent with knowledge, his teachers allowing his self-directed nature to lead them through his studies. If he was curious about plants they would stroll through the gardens, showing him which ones were edible and which could be poisonous; if he saw a word he didn’t recognize they would read old texts, working through languages with ease; if he stayed up late enough he would inquire about the stars, learning the development of the universe and the physics of planetary motion.

By the time he was twelve, he fluently spoke ten languages, could easily solve graduate-level mathematics problems, and understood the human psyche in a way that afforded him incredible control of his, and other’s, emotions.

Yet, the one thing he couldn’t seem to shake was his empathy.

Growing up he was never allowed friends, always deemed a needless distraction by his parents. They needed him to be cruel, to take and take and take in order to get what was rightfully his; after all, that was how they had managed to get to where they were. Caring too much about what others thought or felt was an invitation for disaster, one that simply could not be permitted. Besides, there was no reason for Satoru to be near anyone who was so, undeniably, less than him.

But unfortunately, Satoru was kind.

One day, his parents observed him kneeling in the garden as he picked flowers for one of his many nannies, the thorns poking at his skin until small trails of blood ran down his fingers. He presented the bouquet to her with a smile on his face, knowing he had chosen her favorite colors.

The next morning he was called into their office, a room he was rarely allowed into. The high ceilings made the space feel cold, despite the fireplace crackling in the corner.

They told him he was foolish, stupid, for what he did: someone of his stature should never dare bend before anyone, nor present them with such an indecent show of affection. She had already been fired for her indiscretion, and they assured him that he would be punished more severely for the next infraction.

He wiped away the tears spilling down his cheeks, dirt still fresh under his fingernails, as he realized what he had done, that it was his fault. He swore to be better, he promised it to them. However, no matter what they did, his parents could not seem to train him out of this awful habit of caring for people. So, they simply continued firing anyone he seemed to grow close to.

As time went on he grew increasingly forlorn, spending hours wandering through the massive estate alone. His sadness eventually began affecting his studies, so his parents reached a compromise: he could have one peer.

Suguru Geto was introduced to him the next day, the boy from a nearby school who similarly showed intellectual promise, and the pair immediately became close. Satoru had never had someone to be around like this, someone his age with his interests, and he cherished the new relationship they formed. Eventually, he learned to call the boy his friend.

Although Satoru spent most of his time continuing his education, every free moment he had he would spend with Suguru. They grew up together, sharing in the experience of boyhood, one Satoru had long since forgotten.

When he turned 18, his parents informed him that he needed to gain further experience before he would be allowed to inherit the company; after all, he had spent his entire life at the estate, and while he had learned immeasurable knowledge from the library full of texts, he had not yet had the opportunity to see how the world truly functioned.

So, Satoru and Suguru moved out, into their apartment together. Of course it was no problem as his family owned the building, and nearly every building in the city, in addition to the power companies, the car companies, the manufacturing plants, and effectively every other corporation in the area.

While nothing explicitly had their name on it, the Gojo family owned the majority of capital across the country, and they truthfully preferred it that way as it allowed them to work in secrecy. Other, more selfish groups tried to overtake them, but their pride always cut their time short in their desperation to be known, to be recognized. The Gojo family instead valued privacy, security, and trust.

It was for this reason that Satoru was never allowed to marry.

Not only because his family wouldn’t dare to fragment their wealth, but also because no single person could ever be deserving of the being that is Satoru Gojo.

In being born special, he was forced to sacrifice normalcy.

–

These thoughts, these ideals, were ones he had to accept from an early age. Every ounce of affection he felt for anyone was a weakness, a flaw, something that he should rid himself of. As a result, he lived a lonely life, despite the material pleasures he was afforded. The only person who could ever understand him was Suguru, yet even he struggled to connect with Satoru in the way he craved.

So, he chose to fill his life with pleasure anywhere else he could find, the most direct route often leading to sex. He could easily separate his emotions from the actions, never daring to let the cracks of his heart show. He walled up his feelings with rules, assuring himself that so long as he followed his self-imposed commandments he would be okay.

Yet, when he met you, it’s like the foundation started to crumble.

He swore he only spent time with women to fuck them, yet you two didn’t even hook up after your first dinner; he swore that there would be no second dates, yet your car broke down, so of course he had to help you; he swore he wouldn’t get attached, yet he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about you every moment you were apart.

He swore to never let things get personal, yet here he is, in your bed, telling you everything.

–

“Satoru?” Your soft voice tethers him back to reality.

His skin feels hot as you wipe away the tears he didn’t even notice were spilling down his cheeks.

“Mhm?” he croaks, his voice hoarse after talking non-stop for what felt like hours as he recounted his life, his struggles, his feelings, to you.

Placing a gentle kiss to his temple, you continue stroking his hair out of his eyes from where it had fallen as he spoke to you. His gaze is still downturned towards his lap, the only place he had been looking as he couldn’t bring himself to face you as he bared his soul.

You reach a hand out to his, holding his shaking palms as your fingers intertwine. “Thank you,” you whisper, “thank you for telling me.”

He nods weakly, trying to stop himself from spiraling: you hate him, you think he’s evil, awful, untrustworthy, unlovable, you never want to see him again, fuck, should he just leave now and save you the trouble of saying it? He ruined it, he ruined everything-

“I love you,” you quietly blurt out.

For a moment, everything in his mind goes quiet.

You…love him?

His eyes flit to your face, meeting your gaze for the first time since he started sharing the story of his life. His lips are parted slightly as he takes in uneven breaths, his cheeks still damp with tears. The sight almost breaks your heart, how fragile he looks, how afraid. You want to throw your arms over his shoulders and hold him but you’re worried the action might cause him to shatter before your eyes.

“Really?” is all he can bring himself to mutter.

“Yes, Satoru,” you hum, the way you say his name so sweetly making his heart race. “I love you.”

And then, his lips are on yours. One of his hands goes to the side of your face, holding you as if to prevent you from slipping away as he kisses you tenderly. You feel the cool wetness of his cheeks against your skin, his lips warm as he leans into you.

“I love you too,” he whispers into your mouth, not daring to separate for even a moment.

He loves you. You love him. For right now, that’s all you need.

–

As your relationship continues to blossom over the next few months, you and Satoru become more and more comfortable with the situation. Of course there are a few growing pains - he stops paying you, obviously, but he still manages to treat you every time you go out. You’ve come to terms with the fact that his family will never know about you, but you’re not sure you’d want to meet them anyways given how they treated Satoru, the emotional turmoil they caused him.

Eventually the two of you move in together, in the same building as his old apartment he shared with Suguru so he doesn’t have to be too far from his best friend, and of course he gets the penthouse unit. As you carry in the boxes of your belongings, you can’t help but realize just how little you own compared to him, but you don’t mind, especially because Satoru spends the next few weeks taking you to new stores everyday, letting you pick out any furniture or decorations that make the space feel like yours. In the back of his mind, he remembers the house where he spent his childhood, one that always made him feel like a guest, and he never wants that for you.

For the first time in your life, things are easy.

Since Satoru’s family owns the building, you don’t have to worry about paying rent (an irony that is not lost on either of you given how you met in the first place). He’s also able to use his money on anything his family deems ‘necessary for his survival,’ and to him the only thing he needs to survive is you, so of course your every wish is taken care of - nice meals, travel, clothes, anything he could think of to spoil you with.

Finally, he feels like he’s using his past, his family, his wealth, for good. Every time he sees you smile he feels like he’s doing good.

But deep down, in the corners of his mind, he knows he can’t continue like this forever, the knowledge of his family one he can’t suppress. Eventually they’ll find out, they’ll cut him off, or worse, they’ll make him cut you off. He can’t go back, he can’t work for them after he’s seen the life he could have with you; so, he starts planning.

On the one year anniversary of the day you officially started dating, the day he confessed everything to you, the day you decided you still love him in spite of his past, he decides it’s time to tell you.

Satoru finds you in your shared bedroom, leaping onto the mattress next to you and wrapping his arms around your body.

“‘Toru,” you giggle, the nickname never failing to make him blush.

“I have a surprise for you, sweetheart,” he smiles, peppering your face with kisses.

When he’s covered every inch of your skin in soft pecks, he rolls off the bed and grabs something from the back of the closet.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, his back turned towards you. Covering your eyes with your palms, you patiently wait as he rummages through your shared belongings.

“Aaaaaand open!” he proclaims.

Standing at the edge of the bed, he holds out a piece of paper, a toothy smile plastered across his face.

“It’s…” you trail off, leaning forward and squinting at the small print, “an email?”

Confusion is evident on your face as Satoru waltzes toward the bed, grin never faltering. “It is,” he confirms. “Read it.”

Holding the paper out to you, your eyes quickly scan over the words.

‘New Hire: Satoru Gojo’

‘Welcome to the school!’

‘high school teacher’

‘starting next Monday’

“Satoru…are you…are you going to be a teacher?” you ask quizzically.

“Mhm,” he hums excitedly, now kneeling next to you on the bed.

“I’m happy for you babe, but why?”

“Because…” he trails off, “if I have a job, then…then we don’t need my parent’s money.”

The realization sets in as your eyes meet his.

You open your mouth to speak, but before you can, he continues.

"You’re my everything, and every day I’ve gotten to spend with you has been better than the last. I want to keep loving you, keep being with you, everyday for the rest of our lives. You and I both know that’s not possible with the threat of my family looming over us, so I…I did this.”

His eyes scan your face, desperate to see your response, his heart beating so fast it feels like it might burst out of his chest.

Without you even realizing it, he had wiped the skies clean of the cloud that had been shrouding you for the past year. The threat of his family was like an invisible weight on you, always there, wherever you went. A part of you knew he had to go back, had to return to the evil that tried to ruin him, to make him just like them. But now, he doesn’t - he doesn’t owe them anything, he doesn’t have to be anything or do anything - he just has to be yours.

When you smile up at him, he swears he feels the warmth of the sun.

“I love you,” you murmur, reaching your arms up around his neck before pulling him into a kiss.

“I love you too,” he whispers, “forever.”

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