#gojo fluf

[stvvryy]

⋆.𐙚 ̊ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

smau: the jjk men are upset that reader forgot to give them a kiss goodbye

⋆.𐙚 ̊ 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃, 𝐒𝐓𝐕𝐕𝐑𝐑𝐘 2025

[sixeyesonathiel]

what happens when gojo satoru sees a tiktok that says “she won’t marry you if you don’t bake her cookies” and takes it way too seriously?

a/n : satoru in a small ponytail. that’s it. i am so ill.

it starts with a tiktok.

some ridiculous, pastel-filtered, bubbly-voiced thing that popped up on his for you page. satoru wasn’t even paying attention at first—phone half dangling from his hand, his long legs stretched across the couch, socks mismatched, one slipping off at the heel. eyes glassy from too many cursed reports. a headache blooming behind his infinity.

then he hears it:

“she won’t marry you if you don’t bake her cookies.”

the video loops, endlessly.

satoru’s entire body tenses like he’s been struck. won’t marry me? the phrase echoes. his thumb hovers above the screen, then slowly lowers it like he’s disarming a bomb. he watches the video again. and again. and again. each repetition more damning than the last.

because here’s the thing—he’s already imagined it. you, in white. your name beside his on every formality. the tiny domestic moments. the matching toothbrushes. your socks in his drawer. the way you scrunch your nose at strong coffee but drink it anyway because it reminds you of mornings with him. gojo satoru, known for his irreverence, hasn’t taken anything seriously since he was sixteen—except you.

so, of course, he can’t take any risks.

within five minutes, he’s spiraling. tabs multiplying like cursed spirits. “best cookie recipes to make her love you.” “is baking a love language.” “can cookies be legally binding.” he’s skimming mom blogs and side-eyeing user reviews like they’re jujutsu intel. he gets into an argument with a reddit user named sugarboi92 about sea salt ratios. he forgets to blink.

you’re across from him on the couch, knees tucked to your chest, headphones in, humming softly to yourself. your lips move slightly with the lyrics. you don’t even notice the way his blue eyes flick toward you every thirty seconds, like he’s checking the stakes of the mission. his gaze lingers on the slope of your shoulder, the arch of your brow when you’re concentrating. the way you curl your toes slightly when you're content.

the next day, the kitchen is chaos.

flour in his hair. streaked across one cheek like warpaint. he’s tied his hair back, sort of—a stubborn, barely-there stub of a ponytail held by one of your elastics, fraying loose at the crown. his bangs still refuse to behave, fluttering messily over his forehead. he’s in your apron. pink. frilly. a cartoon cat winking on the chest. it rides up awkwardly over his broad frame, and he wears it with the dignity of a man crafting destiny.

his sleeves are rolled to the elbows. his forearms flex as he stirs. his fingers are clumsy, smudged with brown sugar. a smear of chocolate ends up on his temple. he mutters under his breath with each step, reciting the recipe like a curse formula. every so often, he glances toward the door, listening for your footsteps.

jazz plays faintly from the speaker. something soft, velvety. the smell of vanilla and browned sugar hangs heavy in the air. when he spins to check the oven, his socked foot slips slightly on a patch of spilled butter—he stumbles, catches himself with infinity, then growls, “no, no, no—these are for my wife.”

satoru tries. he really tries. he measures, levels, even uses your little kitchen scale. but halfway through, impatience wins. he eyeballs the butter. forgets the baking soda. adds too many chocolate chips. licks the spoon like it might tell him what love should taste like.

the cookies come out uneven. some puffed too tall. others thin, laced with caramelized edges. a few… a few are better left unnamed. but he arranges the best of them on a plate, forming a heart that leans to the side like it’s shy. he pipes icing across the center: “marry me?”

it’s crooked. a little desperate. but honest.

the kitchen is still warm when you shuffle in, rubbing your eyes, hair sticking up from sleep. your sleep shirt hangs off one shoulder. you freeze mid-step, blinking slowly at the sight of him.

he’s standing like a statue—plate in both hands, held up like an offering to a divine force. his hair is coming loose, white strands falling into his eyes. powdered sugar dusts his collarbone.

“...did you bake?”

your voice is raspy. amused. your brows lift slightly.

“for you,” he blurts. “they’re… hideous. but they’re made with love. and maybe some shell. tiny bits. character-building crunch.”

you blink. then smile. soft and slow. your hand comes up to stifle a laugh, but it slips through anyway—light and warm. he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a century.

you take a cookie, nibble it, eyebrows rising in playful surprise. “not bad. crunchy. very... bold.”

he grins, triumphant and sheepish all at once. “bold like my love.”

later, you’re curled into him on the couch, your fingers idly twisting the hem of his shirt. his hand is at your waist, thumb rubbing slow circles over your hipbone, grounding himself. the crumbs from the cookies are scattered on the coffee table, forgotten.

satoru murmurs into your hair, “you would marry me even if i didn’t bake, right?”

you hum, teasing. “maybe.”

you don’t see the way his jaw tightens slightly. how his hand stills. how his eyes lose focus, staring somewhere into the middle distance.

that night, he doesn’t sleep.

by 3 a.m., he’s back in the kitchen. hair tied up again, face set in grim determination. this time, he double-checks the measurements. preheats the oven properly. watches every timer like a hawk. he sifts the flour twice. levels every cup. wipes down the counter with surgical precision.

because gojo satoru might be the strongest sorcerer alive—but when it comes to you, he won’t risk anything. not even with cookies.

he knows the video’s probably a joke. he knows you’re not the kind of person who’d break up with him over a batch of chocolate chips. he knows tiktok is 90% lies and 10% cat videos with manipulated audio. but what if it’s not? what if, deep down, there's a part of you that really does want warm, homemade cookies from the person you love? what if someone else bakes them for you first?

that’s not a chance he’s willing to take.

not when he’s already seen every future where he loses you—and in none of them did it start with cookies. but maybe that’s why it’s so dangerous. maybe the end begins with small, quiet things.

so he bakes.

and love, unlike cursed energy, can’t be tamed. it pulses, wild and unscripted, without binding vows or techniques—just a heart stupid enough to keep trying.

[pupkashi]

a/n: it’s 4 am and i miss gojo,, there is no rhyme or reason to his drabble, just vibes and yearning

masterlist

thinking abt laying in bed talking with gojo even though the two of you are beyond exhausted unbeknownst to the other.

your head is resting on his chest, your hands playing with his as you both giggle about something stupid. the moonlight is leaking through the blinds and the rain is loud enough to be heard easily.

satoru doesn’t care about how exhausted his body feels and how his eyelids have been drooping for the past ten minutes. he wants to spend all the time in the world with you, no matter how tired he was.

but even the strongest succumbs to sleep, and despite his best efforts he’s dozed off in the minute of silence that engulf the two of you.

“toru?” your voice is soft, and at the lack of a reply you can’t help but smile. there’s always a part of you the is relieved when satoru sleeps. finding comfort in the fact that your lover can finally rest, free of all problems from his life as he lays in bed with you. his white lashes kiss his cheeks, pink lips parted slightly.

“g’night angel boy” you whisper, moving softly and closing your burning eyes. truth is you were beyond exhausted, but you’d be damned if you didn’t stay up talking to satoru on the rare nights he was home early. you’d never tell him though, knowing he’d try and get you to sleep hours before he’d be able to.

it was something the two of you always kept from each other, telling the other a white lie on how much energy you still had. continuing the night with ‘I’m not even sleepy yet’ or urging the other to put another movie or episode on, the night is young!

there was an inkling on either end that the other was lying, but neither of you voice your suspicions. instead the two of you would cuddle up, talking to each other until one of you inevitably fell asleep first.

(satoru always likes to think he’s better at staying up than you, but he seems to always be the one to fall asleep first. he blames your comforting aura and nectarine voice.)

[215-luv]

Everyone, please remember that there are still Palestinians who are suffering and are reaching out for our help.

[seeingivy]

the tortured poets event is sick bc how am i supposed to choose just ONE 😭😭 gimme everything 💳💥💥💳💥💳💳💳💥💥💳💥 okay what about "no im not coming to my senses" with gojo... 🫣 that annoying ass man 😪

no i'm not coming to my senses x satoru gojo

**part of my tortured poets concert event

--

“y/n. why are you kissing santa claus?” 

the sound of the little feet pattering into the kitchen sends an instant wave of regret down your spine, as you pull back, your hands still warm on satoru’s shoulders as you turn to your left. and without fail, the nocturnal prince, megumi fushiguro, is standing at your side, looking up at you with curious eyes. 

“megumi! you…you’re still awake?” you ask. 

it’s a rather daft question to ask. only because he’s obviously awake, obviously awake because he’s standing right in front of you, where he’s just caught you kissing satoru, still clad in his silly santa claus outfit that he insisted on wearing for christmas eve. 

megumi gives you a small nod, before his eyes suspiciously dart back and forth between you and satoru. out of your peripheral vision, you can see that the latter is very pleased with himself, mostly in the fact that most of the tricks he had planned earlier in the night, the ones that he took far too much effort in organizing despite your warnings, had actually worked. 

megumi really believed that santa claus was real. 

satoru gojo had a natural aptitude to take things a little too seriously. most of the times, a little too far. naturally, the first christmas that megumi and tsumiki were going to spend with you was not an event that he was going to spare or take lightly, at least not without a decent amount of fanfare first.  

what started as an innocent trip to the mall to find matching pajamas left with satoru buying the pair a new wardrobe of designer items, despite your insistence that they wouldn’t really be too fond of them. he figured that toji fushiguro had never bothered to buy the two of them presents, so him buying the obscene amount was justified as he was simply just catching up. 

and while the gifts were mostly innocuous, the entire ordeal that he had planned for christmas eve was the cherry on top. it involved robbing you of your sleep so that the two of you could eat half of the cookies that tsumiki and megumi left out, to imprint little hooves into the yard and footsteps leading up to the tree, and stuffing the stockings that you had purposely left empty for the past two weeks to paint a perfect picture. 

except, satoru gojo refused to stuff the stockings in his own clothes, because according to him, the eyes in the back of megumi’s head would catch him in the act. and if it meant that he had to buy a whole costume to prove his point, it was the very least he would do. 

“are you cheating on gojo sensei?” 

“no! of course, i’m not cheating on satoru.” 

satoru shoots up out of his chair, his hand firm on your shoulder, as he leans down and shoots megumi a pointed smile.

“yes! of course, she is.” satoru responds. 

you shoot satoru a confused look. he doesn’t relent in the slightest, from whatever shitty game it is that he’s playing, and instead opts to give you a peachy smile, before pushing your hands off of his shoulders. 

“she’s been naughty this year.” he responds. 

“what? no, i haven’t. satoru’s just…” 

“who’s satoru? i’m santa claus.” satoru seethes. 

megumi gives you a shrug, before padding out of the room, as you shove satoru and whisper under your breath.

“what the hell?” you whisper. 

“what?” 

“you…you can’t just tell him that i’m cheating on you.” you state. 

“well, i can’t exactly tell him that i’m dressed up as santa claus either, can i?” satoru responds. 

“oh my god, satoru. get your priorities straight. come to your senses a little bit this…this is insane.” 

“no, i’m not coming to my senses. he has to believe in santa, this is important. this is the pinnacle of childhood itself.” he murmurs. 

you pinch the bridge of your nose, the two of you pushing away from one another as megumi pads back into the room, a jacket slung over his shoulders. 

“can we drink hot chocolate?” he asks. 

“sure we can. i’ll put it on right now.” you murmur, lifting him up so that he’s sitting on the counter by satoru. 

you shoot him a glare, one that’s enough of a warning that he needs to retract what it is that he’s just said, as you reach for the fridge. 

“so. about what you saw.” satoru starts. 

“you were kissing, y/n.” 

“no, i wasn’t. she had something in her eye.” 

megumi frowns. 

“well, you said yipee after, so i hardly doubt that’s true.” 

you swallow down your snort. 

“that was a joke. i was just…trying to make her laugh…but that’s besides the point.” 

“why are you trying to make her laugh if she’s being naughty? that doesn’t really make any sense, does it?” megumi deadpans. 

you place the glass of steaming hot chocolate next to megumi, taking one chance to ruffle his hair, before reaching for your own cup. satoru makes a move on your mug, leaning just close enough to beckon for a sip, as you shake your head at him. 

“what gives?” he asks. 

“i don’t share my drinks with strangers, santa.” 

“oh. right. well. i’ll just be on my way out then. have gifts i have to deliver. because you know…i’m santa and all.” 

you shoot satoru a peachy smile. 

“off you go.” you gesture. 

satoru gives you a confused look, before mouthing to you when megumi’s busy looking away. 

really? 

you give him a nod in response, watching as he very begrudgingly scoots his way out of the hallway, accompanied by a very loud slamming of the door as he leaves. you turn to megumi, who gives you a rather blank expression. 

“does he really think i’m stupid enough to believe in santa claus? or that you’d cheat on him?” 

“evidently so.” 

megumi rolls his eyes. 

“how long do you think it will take him to come back?” megumi asks. 

you shake your head. 

“he’s far too committed to the bit now. my guess is breakfast.” 

“dinner.” megumi states. 

you lean back against the counter. 

“ten bucks?” you ask. 

“deal.”

[junosmindpalace]

“on the count of three. one…” 

“it’s not fair. i got a lot of chips.” 

“two…three!”

at once, four bags with spooky illustrations were turned upside down, and at once, the sound of wrappers crinkling and solids crashing onto the joint up desks in the centre of the classroom created a mass of unpleasant sound.  

“satoru, get away! your pile will mix with mine!”

the bags were shaken extra thoroughly to make sure nothing was caught or remained inside, and were then discarded on the floor with loud swooshes as they cut through the air. 

“oh, come on.” shoko stared in exasperation at the boys' heaps of various candies, chocolates and bags of chips. “why do you two always get the biggest piles?”

“they can’t resist my charm.” gojo puffed out his chest, while suguru only gave him a deadpan look. 

“ready to count?”

the group nodded and the overlapping crinkling noises resumed as hands dived in to sort through the seas of treats of all different sizes and colors. 

halloween, out of all holidays, was one your second year group was always particularly enthusiastic about. it had become a sort of tradition to dress up and go out trick or treating in the neighbourhoods near the school, only to meet back later in the evening to tally up each individual’s candy amount and see who ended up with the largest haul. 

the rules were simple: whoever had the largest combination of candies and chocolates won. chips did not count.

satoru and suguru were usually neck and neck in this competition to you and shoko’s immense frustration. suguru had won the first year, satoru the last. the slimey bastards knew the best neighbourhoods to visit and which suckers would be the easiest to charm into receiving a larger haul. 

you, especially, were determined to claim a victory of your own, taking into account all the best neighbourhoods yourself. you were quite satisfied with your haul this year, and felt that it might be able to rival your friends’ usual heaps.

“a hundred and seventeen!” satoru was the first to declare, slumping back in his seat with a proud smirk and his arms crossed over his chest. “try beating that.”

“ninety six.” shoko groaned as she threw down the last piece of chocolate into her counted pile, reclining back in defeat. 

“one hundred and seven.” suguru finished with a similar defeated tone, leaning a hand on his cheek. 

“a hundred and twenty!” you cheered when you finished your count, jumping in joy over your victory. you were right. this year's haul was fruitful. satoru straightened in his seat in disbelief with a loud “what?!” as he hovered over his seat to examine your pile. 

“whoa, off by only a few? some bad luck.” shoko chuckled as she reached across the desks toward your pile. “it’s about time someone else got the lead over you two. let me have a chocolate bar.”

satoru huffed, collapsing back into his chair and pressing his cheek up against the table as he watched you start to dig into your pile of goods. 

“you two needed to be humbled.” you stated matter of factly as you tossed a piece of chocolate into your mouth. your makeup was starting to wear off, accessories of your costume removed and set down somewhere in the classroom after a tiring night out. 

“don’t get so proud, now. you won by one.” satoru grumbled through the plastic fangs in his mouth. his cape draped lazily over his figure as he slumped, shielding him in a sort of mourning figure. 

“still won.” you rebuttled simply and proudly, shooting him a sickly sweet smile as you turned your nose up at him. satoru’s lower lip jutted out in frustration. suguru watched the exchange with raised brows and a roll of his eyes. 

“you had a hundred and twenty five.” suguru said suddenly on his walk home from the school with satoru, their hauls secured back into their bags at their sides. satoru had taken out his fangs and was sucking on a lollipop when he turned his head in confusion.

“huh?”

“you had a hundred and twenty five candies by the end of the night. i heard you counting on our way back. why’d you say otherwise?”

satoru blinked owlishly before taking the lollipop out of his mouth. he stared up at the dim yellow street light as if in thought.

“well, y/n was really eager to win. embarrassingly eager, even.” satoru rolled his eyes. “seemed certain of their victory.”

“so?” 

satoru was quiet for a moment, still staring up at the sky. “i didn’t want to ruin that.”

if there were ever times suguru was caught off guard by something satoru said, this moment took the crown. he stared in surprise at satoru’s reflective expression, his pale cheeks tinted pink from the cool crisp air.

this expression however, got satoru defensive, and he stubbornly turned back toward him with a defiant look on his face. “what about it?”

suguru eventually blinked and straightened. “nothing. that was nice of you.”

“now i’m regretting it though.” satoru tried to diverge, sticking the lollipop back into his mouth. “with all that bragging.”

“that’s how you sound, you know.” 

if suguru wasn’t busy keeping going over a game plan for securing a large haul, perhaps he would have been able to catch on to the tender look on satoru's face as he basked in your enthusiasm over the decorations and the costumes and the atmosphere. if suguru wasn't keeping track of his own pile, maybe he would’ve been able to spot satoru gently placing a handful of his own chocolates into your bag while you, at one point, left it unattended. and maybe if he wasn’t so amused by satoru’s "distress" over being outdone, he would’ve been able to catch on to the small smile that danced on his lips as he watched you celebrate your victory and enjoy your favorite chocolates. 

maybe if suguru wasn’t so tired he’d would've been more attentive, use the clues to make a connection that would make excellent blackmail. but the night stretched out longer than usual and he was already thinking of all the missions he’d be out on due to the onslaught of curses produced tonight. 

this was to satoru’s immense relief. and as he parted ways with suguru, he reflected back on their conversation and hoped that you had been too enamored with your victory to notice anything either.

[notiddygothgf]

PROLOGUE

★ pairings: nanami kento x f! reader

★ synopsis: In the search for solace, Nanami stumbles right into the arms of an exotic dancer. In the search for money, an exotic dancer finds more than she bargained for. In the heat of the moment, a contractual relationship turns into something more. (or; the one where sugar daddy!nanami is sweet on his girl)

★ c.w.: drinking (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: OMG! im so excited to finally start publishing this fanfic. ive been sitting on it for a minute. DISCLAIMER LOL I dont condone the behavior observed in this story (even if I myself would have done it in a heartbeat) anything for papa nanami. im so normal about him (I have daddy issues). if ur new around here, say hi! if you've read my other ffs then welcome back teehee. chapter is not beta'd. we die like men. (I would recommend listening to the song while u read)

★ w.c.; 3k

my kinda love; chapter index

THE HORRORS. He dreamt about them often. Most of his dreams were of a similar nature; long, detailed, brutal. Bloody, at times. When he wasn’t kept up by the memories, he was dreaming about them – as if they had followed him into his slumber. When he woke up, his burdens were heavy on his shoulders. He would repeat this cycle every day.

He was compensated rather well for his traumas. Well was an understatement. Maybe it wasn’t… after all, no amount of money could ever possibly make up for the things he had seen.

He repeated the same cycle every single day.

“Nanami?” A soft voice shook him out of his reverie. It was his therapist – a woman of short stature with long, brown hair and a business-casual outfit on. 

He raised his brows, doing his best to appear as if he had been listening the entire time. “Yes?”

“I asked you if you’ve had any romantic pursuits recently,” She answered. Her smile was warm, patient, but the clipboard in her lap said otherwise. He was paying for her time. “Any efforts to let new people into your life…?”

Nanami’s face wore a blank expression. He fiddled with the hands folded neatly in his lap. “As in… dating?”

“Dating counts, yeah,” She nodded. She tapped the edge of her purple pen against the page rhythmically while she awaited his reply. 

He thought of the innumerable faceless women he had spent the evening with. He thought of warm mouths, soft lips, and supple bodies; Countless beautiful women he had tricked into thinking they had a chance at something more than a one night stand. Every time a potential suitor came along, he found himself being scared away by intimacy.

Not sex. He was no stranger to that, nor to its remarkable ability to take his mind off of the stress. It was what lurked in the shadows that daunted him – the lingering touches, the good morning messages, the heartfelt gestures. He could handle it when he was the one dishing it out, but the moment the energy was returned, every single time, he would find himself running away.

It was a dangerous game. He knew he was an evil, cold-hearted, bad man. A part of him wished he could have done right by those select women he had courted (for rather brief periods of time). The more sensible part of him knew he simply didn’t have the time nor the energy to confront his issues and commit to a single woman. 

So he continued to ignore his problems – finding comfort in a warm bed and a warm body whenever he could. Sex made for one hell of an emotional crutch when it was the only thing that seemed to make you feel anything other than indifference.

Indifference. That was the only thing he felt these days. That, and the rush – the pursuit of animalistic passion in favor of neglecting his personal qualms. The temporary escape from his permanent issues.

“I’ve had quite a few,” He answered after a pause that seemed to stretch on for a moment too long. “Commitment is a bit of an issue for me, still, but I’m making an effort to work on it.”

Only partially a lie.

“That’s great, Nanami!” She smiled. She clicked her pen against the page, scribbling something down before she turned her attention back to him. “Tell me more about that effort. Have you been letting those emotional walls down?”

He fought the urge to grit his teeth together at her inquiry. If you can call ghosting three women in the last month and a half letting walls down.

“I’ll be honest,” He sighed. Sitting back in his leather loveseat, he crossed one leg over the other. “I’m starting to believe I’m unable to open up to another person on that level.”

“Don’t say that, Nanami,” She scribbled something down. Her eyes weren’t even on him when she uttered this. “I think you just need to put yourself out there a little more. Ease yourself into that intimacy you typically shy away from.”

Put myself out there.

He thought again of the countless women he had been with.

“Forgive me for being vulgar,” He admitted. “But I think I have enough sex.”

“Not that,” She laughed quietly, shaking her head. “Intimacy and sex are two completely different things, Nanami – though they often intersect. You should try exploring non-sexual intimacy with a partner.”

“Non-sexual intimacy…” He reiterated. The term felt foreign as it rolled off of his tongue. “What do you mean by that?”

Was that what he had been missing? Non-sexual intimacy?

“Letting someone be vulnerable with you – being vulnerable with someone. The softness, that stuff that makes a relationship more than just physical. Other than love, that is,” She answered. Her manicured fingers smoothed over the page before flipping it. She was like clockwork. “There’s something healing about having a soft and, in your case, feminine presence in your life that you can be vulnerable with.”

“I’ve thought about it, but I’ve never acted,” He said. Casting a sideways glance at the analog clock on her desk, he asked, “Does that make me selfish? Shying away from non-sexual intimacy because I don’t understand it – even though I allow myself to indulge in sexual intimacy?”

“It makes you human, I think,” She smiled softly, writing something else down. Her brown eyes flitted up to meet him with unfounded warmth. “You should try letting someone in, Nanami. Might be worth a shot. What do you have to lose?”

Everything, was his first thought.

“I suppose you’re right,” He sighed anyway. 

The faint buzz of the neon sign before him grew louder as he approached it. It was hardly audible over the deep buzz of the bass coming from the other side of the door. The words “Cat House” blinked periodically, illuminating his tired face in its glow each time.

“You’re taking him to a strip club?” Nanami grumbled. Still, shutting the door of the sleek black vehicle behind him, he glanced at the glowing pink sign. “The kid is turning 21.”

After his white-haired-blue-eyed long-term-acquaintance stepped out from the other side of the SUV, the driver pulled off. Gojo wiped his hands off on the fabric of his suit. “Not just any strip club! My favorite strip club!”

“You’re a regular,” He sighed, shaking his head. “Of course you are.”

“You, my friend, need to learn how to have some fun,” Gojo hummed. He brushed past Nanami, making his way to the stairway that undoubtedly descended to the entrance. “Yuuji’s gonna love it!”

Nanami followed after Gojo, flicking his cigarette onto the ground below his feet. His footsteps crunched against the gravel pathway. “If this is what your definition of fun is, I don’t think you should have been the one planning out his birthday.”

“What would you have done? Take him to an arcade?” Gojo waved him off. He nodded towards the door the two men now stood in front of. “Kid’s 21, not 12. Let’s go inside.”

"Hard pass," Nanami answered calmly. He straightened his tie out, suddenly feeling rather overdressed for the occasion – especially considering the kind of establishment this was .

"Yes we are."

"I have better things to do."

"Like what? Moping and pouting at home?" Gojo interjected, reaching for his  arm – which Nanami quickly pulled out of his grasp. “It’s Yuuji’s birthday. Go celebrate with a lapdance, or something.

Gojo grabbed his arm again. Getting the strong feeling that he would simply try again if he pulled his arm away, Nanami let him.

“I will be doing nothing of the sort,” He grumbled. Still, he allowed Gojo to pull him into the entryway.

A low and seductive saxophone medley poured out from the speakers, and Nanami nearly considered turning back there and then. Gojo – with Nanami in tow – approached a rather scantily clad woman near the door. 

“Hi, doll. Party for Itadori?” He asked.

The hostess nodded. Gathering a few menus, she stepped out from behind the counter – wearing nothing more than a micro skirt and a bikini top. “Right this way,” she said.

The two men followed her into the club. Everything – everything – was pink. As pink as Yuuji’s hair, with red chairs and booths scattered throughout. It looked like the place had been designed by fucking Cupid himself. There were dozens of dancers strutting around the place – all of which wore tiny skirts and tight tops. 

Nanami didn’t miss the way Gojo’s eye’s trailed over the hostess’s ass while she led them over to their booth.

“The dancers here are phenomenal," Gojo said to him, raising his voice so that he was louder than the music. The stage was surrounded by at least 15 tables, all of which were packed with very excited-looking men. Conveniently enough, their table sat front-and-center to the stage. 

"Can I get you started with something to drink?”  The woman said, gesturing to the booth. “Or would you like to wait for the rest of your party?”

Gojo sank into one of the cushiony chairs at the table, and Nanami did the same. The cushion was a bright red velour. It was soft – he really didn’t wanna think about what sort of stories the chair could tell. 

“A strawberry margarita for me, please– extra dirty,” Gojo answered. He didn’t even have to look at the menu. Fuckin’ party animal.

The lady nodded, then turned her gaze to Nanami.

He had to think for a moment before he asked. “Do you have wine?”

“Yeah,” She hummed. “What kind?”

“Merlot, please,” He answered. “Bring the whole bottle.”

The lady nodded, and again, he caught the way Gojo shamelessly stared at the woman's ass as she walked away. Once he was certain they were alone, he asked his eccentric friend, "The drinks any good here?"

"You ask that after you order a whole bottle of it?" The man chuckled, crossing one leg over the other and rather conspicuously nudging Nanami’s leg with his foot. "They’re alright. The key is to get wasted enough that they taste better.”

That’s terrible advice. Nanami knew better than to try to argue with Gojo. He had long since learned his lesson. Instead, he tried to see the bright side of the whole situation. Perhaps this night out would help him take his mind off of everything

Yuuji and his friends had arrived only thirty minutes earlier, and they were already drunk. They were cackling loudly – so loudly that they were beginning to draw attention. Gojo, wiping away tears from laughing so hard, was clapping his hands together in amusement.

There was a brief moment of silence, during which Gojo went for the tequila bottle and poured everyone another round of shots. The clear liquid seemed to catch the light just slightly, just enough that it glistened as he raised his glass.

“Lovely students, gather ‘round!” He slurred, a drunken sparkle in his eyes. He tapped the side of his glass with a metal fork – the resulting clink cut right through the laughter.

The group hushed as all eyes focused on him. “I want to make a toast!” He announced after a dramatic pause. He glanced at poor Yuuji, with his “birthday girl” sash and matching tiara, and proclaimed, “I wanna thank all of you for gathering here to celebrate our beloved birthday girl’s special night!”

All eyes turned to Yuuji, who wore a dopey, beaming grin.

Gojo stood up from his chair, bringing the glass of tequila with him. Nanami watched with moderate intrigue – only because there was a 50% chance that his alcoholic beverage could wind up all over his shirt. 

“To Yuuji!” he declared, raising his glass high.

The group raised their glasses together. For a moment, Nanami felt a warmth in his chest – a rare moment of contentment amidst all of the chaos. Everyone was okay. They were here . Happy.

“To Yuuji!” They echoed.

He raised my own glass a moment too late, then threw it down the hatch. The bitter taste of the liquor as it flowed down Nanami’s throat and warmed his chest was not unwelcome. 

 Yuuji, however, nearly gagged on his, swallowing slowly before erupting into a fit of coughs.

Laughter erupted once again, and Nobara affectionately patted Yuuji on the back. As the group continued to revel in the celebration, the lights dimmed.

"Oh shit, I think the show is starting," Yuuji exclaimed.

"Quiet down, everyone! Gojo chimed in, his usual exuberance heightened by the alcohol.

As the lights dimmed even more, the atmosphere shifted. The group settled into their seats, anticipation filling the air. Yuuji, still wearing his birthday girl sash, looked around with wide eyes, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

The curtains gracefully rolled open just a moment later, ushering in a pulsating beat as a shadow emerged from the stage's depths. Gojo couldn't help but nearly roll his eyes at the sheer absurdity of it all. Gliding effortlessly to the stage's forefront was the dancer, adorned in a fetching ensemble—a pretty pink G-string paired with a matching corset adorned with little embroidered hearts. Her hair was styled into two low pigtails, and from where Nanami stood, he couldn't deny she was, well, kind of pretty.

The rhythmic beat filled the restaurant as the dancer began to sway her hips, accompanied by the provocative lyrics.

‘Tell nobody I control you

I broke you just to hold you,’

She placed a hand on her shoulder, trailing it around her neck before seductively sliding it down her glimmering, scantily-clad chest. The spotlight painted her feminine silhouette with hues of pink and red, and Nanami couldn't resist letting his gaze drift a little lower.

‘They can’t tell, but I love you,’

Grasping the pole behind her, the dancer executed snakelike hip movements. Her hands remained wrapped around the pole as she pressed her back against it, biting her bottom lip in a tantalizing squat. Legs opened, hips gyrating, she beckoned the audience forward. Nanami's eyes dropped below the belt once more as her body rippled enticingly to the beat.

‘Cause you’re loyal, baby,

I love when you’re submissive,’

She was undeniably gorgeous. Her attire accentuated her curves, and her movements exuded confidence and sensuality.

‘Love it when I break skin,’

Gojo, in his usual flamboyant manner, clapped his hands and whistled at the dancer. Nanami turned to him, eyebrows raised in surprise, as if silently conveying, "She's hot." Gojo simply smiled in return.

‘You feel pain without flinchin’...

So say it…’

She stepped around the pole, so that her long, athletic legs were spread in front of it, her back was straight, and her hands were clasped around the pole above her head. She demanded attention – something reflected by the hoots and whistles resonating throughout the room.

‘Give me tough love,’

Slowly, she slid into a squat.

‘Leave me with nothing when I come down,

My kinda love,’

From there, she crawled onto her hands and knees, arching her back, rolling her hips against the floor in a way that had Nanami’s eyes blinking rapidly. She grinded and crawled, eventually transitioning onto her back, where she backbended and then cartwheeled onto her feet again.

‘Push me and choke me ‘til I pass out.’

His jaw would have been on the floor if he didn’t have an image to uphold.

Returning to her confident strides around the pole, she stopped to roll her body against it, smoothing her hands over her smooth bottom, eyes scanning the audience. Sliding her hands up her inner thighs, she flipped her hair up and then rolled back up slowly. She dropped down into another squat, then – spinning on the balls of her feet – she rolled over the floor, kicking her legs up into a split, hands on the ground, back arched.

‘ We don’t gotta be in love, no,

I don’t gotta be the one, no’

She’s amazing, he found himself thinking.

She rolled onto her stomach, pushed herself back onto her knees, and arched her back – all while running her hands over her torso, her waist. Her hips rolled forward, making a little riding motion that made Nanami reconsider his harsh words towards his comrade earlier in the evening.

‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight’.

Spinning around to face the crowd on her knees, she crawled onto her hands and knees. She arched her back slowly, sensually – in an almost feline fashion – with her ass and heels pointed up.

She pushed herself onto her feet, hands holding her heels, rolling up slowly again – this time dagging her hand up the length of her smooth, long legs. She reached for the pole, rolling her body against it.

‘Push me down, hold me down,

Spit in my mouth while you turn me out,’

Is she even going to use the pole? Nanami wondered. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. It looked difficult – something he could never imagine himself being able to do. And, shit, for what it was worth, she was putting on one hell of a show without it.

‘I wanna take your light inside,

Dim me down, snuff me out,

Hands on my neck while you push it out,

And I’m screamin’ out’

She hooked her leg around the pole – as if she had heard Nanami’s internal inquiry, and flipped up onto it. In one smooth motion, she seemed to defy gravity. Her legs were pointed up, straight towards the ceiling as the pole rotated slowly. Then, before Nanami could catch his breath, her legs split open.

‘Give me tough love,

Leave me with nothin’ when I come down.’

She looked so fucking… perfect, so remarkable. He found himself entirely hypnotized by her. Her back was arched, pressed up against the pole – hell, her whole body was bent backward. He had never seen someone do an upside down split in mid air with only their hands as support, let alone do it so effortlessly.

‘My kinda love,

Force me and choke me ‘til I pass out.’

Her eyes scanned the shouting crowd with a seductive expression. She wrapped her legs around the back of the pole. Then, still upside down, she relaxed her grip on the base of the pole, sliding down until her hands met the ground. 

He was surprised her breasts hadn’t spilled out of their containers by now.

‘We don’t gotta be in love, no

I don’t gotta be the one, no,

I just wanna be one of your girls tonight.’

In one fluid motion, she opened her legs and cartwheeled away from the pole. She sauntered up to the front of the stage again, sliding her hands up her hips, her stomach, her chest, her neck. Nanami’s eyes followed her hands hungrily on their journey up, and then again on their way down, down, down. With her hands on her knees, she sunk into a squatting position. 

‘We don’t gotta be in love, no

I don’t gotta be the one, no’

Nanami gaped at the stage. She was absolutely stunning. Her body moved with grace, and her long legs worked those heels in a way that left his head spinning. The way her hands gripped the pole ignited a desire in Nanami's fingers to reach out and touch her.

‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight, oh.’

Strutting to the stage's front, she sank back down to her knees, this time facing away from the audience. Slowly, she bent over backward, bridging off the stage into the audience. What struck Nanami the hardest wasn't the sparkle of her chest or the way her hair framed her pretty eyes; it was the way she looked right at him.

‘ Lock me up and throw away the key,

He knows how to get the best out of me,

I’m no fool for the world to see, 

Trade my whole life just to be.’

And Nanami, normally a man of composure, felt the blood rush to his face. He felt something stir deep within his chest – a sensation he hadn’t felt in years. Her half-lidded, smokey eyes gazed into his with the intensity of a thousand wildfires—unwavering, unrelenting, glimmering. She was fucking beautiful.

Droplets of sweat slid down her chest, and she smirked before extending her arm towards him. An unfamiliar, small hand gently caressed the side of his face. Nanami's heart raced, the scent of sweat and perfume leaving him reeling for more.

Then, as if nothing had transpired, the dancer pulled herself back onto her knees and continued with her routine.

Nanami's head spun, utterly captivated. He felt Gojo tap him on the shoulder. 

“She’s good, ain’t she?” He shouted over the sultry beat.

As the bills rained down around the captivating dancer, Nanami found himself unable to tear his gaze away. Gojo's words still echoed in his ears, but a stubborn sense of restraint kept him from joining in the display of buffoonery.

Gojo, undeterred by Nanami's refusal, slid him some bills anyway. "Tip her," Gojo insisted. Before Nanami could protest further, Gojo walked away.

Left alone, Nanami hesitated, his gaze alternating between the bills in his hand and the dancer on stage, who continued her mesmerizing routine, seemingly unaffected by the cascade of money around her.

‘We don’t gotta be in love, no

I don’t gotta be the one, no’

He yearned to be closer to her. It was a strange feeling – one that he hadn’t felt before. He yearned to see her, to hold her, to…

The bills felt weighty in his hand, a tangible representation of the internal struggle Nanami was experiencing. After a moment of contemplation, he made a decision. With a determined look, he rolled his thumb over the bills one last time, then threw them up into the air.

Dollar bills danced around the woman as she moved, and she seemed to lock eyes with Nanami, a subtle smile playing on her lips. 

‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight’.

He wasn’t enamored.

No, he definitely wasn’t enamored with the absurdly pretty exotic dancer on the stage. That’s what he told himself.

And even though he had slandered Gojo for being a frequent patron of the club before that night, he joined the rank of regular himself not very long after.

a/n: hi pookie cookie bookie butts! I didnt like this specific chapter, but I never like my first chaps. thats why I make prologues lol!! the story will get much better I swear. tell me your thoughts, requests, remarks, etc in the comments, as always!! love u all <333 -Leo

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

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wanna join the taglist? | my kinda love; chapter index

[tadashisdisaster]

SYNOPSIS “You’re so Fuckin’ fake” you end up dropping your 3 year friend and get revenge by hooking up with the man she hates the most…her playboy ex…..

ᝰ.ᐟ PAIRING - College playboy, Gojo Satoru, Sweet jockey Geto Suguru, Y/N’s ex bsf, Ayame

✮ WARNING ! Teasing, rough sex, p in v, revenge sex, friends with benefits?, name calling, whore, slut, a shitty ass friend, toxic relationships, maybe corruption kink, lmk if I forgot anything

ᝰ.ᐟ AN - my bestie mootie (@candy69gurl follow her she has better content) @ me for inspo on this post ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! I thought it was so different from the other posts I’ve made, but I wanted to try! I hope you guys enjoy

You rush to your next class, taking your seat two rows behind the guy you had a major crush on, Geto Suguru. You sigh and lean on the palm of your hand. Your friend Ayame sits next to you and chuckles. “Geez girl, if you keep staring too hard you might burn a hole in the back of his head…”

You groan. “Ugh Aya! Do you see how cute he is..he’s wearing my favorite color too!” You giggle and gently push her arm. She laughs and pokes you right back. As class begins Geto pulls out a notebook and pen. Grabbing the hairband from his wrist he holds it between his teeth. He pulls his hair back in a messy bun. ‘God he’s so sexy’, you thought to yourself as you try to focus on what your professor was yapping about for that days lesson.

The lecture hall door swings open and slams against the wall a bit too hard. The male who had burst through the door winces, in fact everyone does. The professor lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Satoru Gojo! This is the 13th time you’ve been late this semester!” The professor rests his hand on his hip and gestures for Gojo to come over to him. He strides over to him with his hands in his pockets. He flashes a smile at the students. The girls —and some guys— giggle. Ayame rolls her eyes.

She glares at him in disgust then looks away. Gojo and Ayame were an item back in their sophomore years of college. They went to parties together, ate lunch together, and of course, slept together. Until he just had to sneak into another’s girls pants. Almost everyone knew the story, but no one seemed to care. It was cliche. The hot guy becomes the school play boy. You snicker at the thought.

The professor swats his hand for Gojo to sit down after scolding him. He didn’t care. He smirks and finds an empty seat, coincidentally next to his friend Suguru. It was no surprise the 2 most hottest guys in school were best friends. Gojo gives Geto a gummy smile. Geto rolls his eyes and smiles while shaking his head.

You see, Ayame knew you had a crush on Geto, but Ayame also knew Geto never really reciprocated your feelings…

“Yeah! Y/n really likes you. I just wanted to know how you felt about her…you know. I’m just trying to help her out.” She batts her lashes at him and smiles. He smiles back, a faint blush on his cheeks. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m flattered but- I don’t really see her in that way. D-Don’t get me wrong! She’s a great gal, I mean….” He looks away then back at Ayame.

Ayame bites her lip, a slight smile appearing. “She’s not really my type. Plus, I kinda have eyes for someone else…“ Ayame moves closer. Geto’s hands rest on her waist and pulls her close.

A few weeks past. Ayame was occupied on her phone more than usual. You tilt your head to the side to try and catch what she was doing. Her smile falters as she hides her phone screen. “God y/n, you’re so nosey…” she rolls her eyes and continues texting. You huff. “Sorry! You’re just so occupied on your phone as of late…my bad for wanting to know what’s happening in my best friends life…” you look away and furrow your brows. Ayame rolls her eyes. “If you really must know…I have a boyfriend.” She smiles. Your face brightens. “What’s his name!? Do I know him!?”

She looks at you then at her phone. She puts it in her back pocket and smiles. “No, don’t worry about it…” she loops her arm with yours. “Tell me about Geto…how are you and him doing?” You sigh and look down. “He hasn’t texted me back. Not since Thursday last week…do you think he thinks I’m weird…or ugly!? Oh god…” you freak out. Ayame looks down at you, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Girl it’s okay…don’t worry about it. He’s not worth your time anyways.

You both walk back to your dorm. The dorms were gender inclusive, so when Ayame and Gojo broke up, she moved in and with you. You were a bit hesitant on letter her stay since you enjoyed your privacy and your own room but you felt more secure with her being there than you have been being alone.

Ayame goes straight to her bed and kicks off her shoes, she rolls over and scrolls on her phone. She giggles. You sigh and neatly place her shoes away. You had to admit you didn’t like the new Ayame. She was meaner, stuck up, and didn’t really care about how you felt. You cringe at her obnoxiously loud ass laugh as you walk over to the kitchenette and make dinner for you both.

“Ayame…the food is ready, wanna come eat?” You’re a sweetheart, everyone knew that, and everyone took advantage of that too, except for your friend, whom you’ve been friends with for 3 years. “I’ll eat later. Can’t you see I’m busy?” She sighs and scoots away from you. You slowly pull your hand away and walk over to the table.

Late at night all you could hear was Ayame’s voice, whisper calling her secret boyfriend. You tug your pillow over your head and groan. “H-hey Aya? Can you tone it down a little…I-“ she cuts you off. “Hold on, Whatever…” and with that she goes back on her phone and continues talking in the not so whisper like tone from earlier.

You trudge to class alone since Ayame went to walk with her boyfriend early in the morning. Your lip quivers, you sniff and wipe the stray tear away.

“You crying?” You jump at the comment and turn your head so fast you could’ve gotten whiplash. It was none other than Gojo. “W-what!?” You quickly clean your face. “Me? Crying pft, no….” You look away and continue your walk, almost to the building. Gojo next to you. You stop and look at him. “Are you following me?” Gojo chuckles. “I’m pretty sure we’re going the same way no? Did you forget we’re on the same morning class, princess?” You let out a soft ‘oh right’. You process his sentence and look up at him. “Princess?” He ignores your comment and just smirks. You sigh. You didn’t get much sleep last night because of Ayame, maybe you should confront her about it when you get back to the dorms.

Gojo stops to open the door, he looks back at you and leans close to your face, and pulls his shades down the bridge of his nose revealing his icy blue eyes, as if to inspect you. “What are you-“ he squints at you. “Geto doesn’t deserve you. And I’d be careful around Ayame, she’s a slutty bitch.” He backs away and smiles, pushing his glasses up his face. You stick your finger in his face and frown, “You shouldn’t be talking because you’re the one who-“ he puts his finger to your lips to shush you. He opens the door for you, “You shouldn’t believe things you know nothing about”. You awkwardly walk in. What did he mean…?

You take your seat. He sits behind you. His heart beating fast. ‘Was she always this cute?’ He thinks to himself while flinging a piece of paper at you. You grumpily turn towards him and scowl. He smiles and waves. You turn away, your ears red.

Once you get back to your dorm you drop your bag on your bed and take a deep breath in. “Ayame? Ayame, are you here?” She comes out the bathroom. A skin tight black dress on with black matching heals and her hair done nicely. Her makeup…”Where are you going?” She puts her earrings on with strong perfume. She looks you up and down and smiles. “Out.” You give her a baffled look. “I- look, we need to talk. I nearly fell asleep in class today! I got zero sleep last night thanks to you. If you’re gonna call can you at least do it somewhere else or before it’s time to sleep?” You plead with her.

She just rolls her eyes. “God you’re so annoying y/n…” she grabs her purse, “no wonder Geto doesn’t like you…”. You think you miss heard her as you blink a few times, your heart hammered in your chest as your face turns red. “W-what did you say?” A knock at the door is heard. She opens the door and smiles. Your heart falls to the floor. “Geto…” you whisper meekly. He kisses Ayame sweetly and smiles at you. “Hey y/n, how are y-“ you brush past him and out of the room. Ayame stares at you while you leave, a pure evil smile stuck on her slutty face. Gojo was right.

You didn’t know where you were going, all you knew was that you wanted to get as far away from them as possible. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you bump into a firm chest. You don’t look at the person you bump into muttering a soft ‘sorry’. They grab your wrist. You look up tears falling quickly down your puffy cheeks. You quickly look away embarrassed. It was Gojo, what a coincidence. He lets you go, a hint of empathy flashed across his face. You begin to walk away until, “wait!, y/n…i-i knew…I-“ he rubs the back of his neck a bit ashamed. You look at him, confused and hurt. You shake your head and walk away. He sighs, torn between following you and trying to comfort you and possibly getting yelled at to fuck off, or just letting you be. He chose the second option and watches you walk away.

Ayame didn’t return to your shared dorm which didn’t surprise you. You put on a soft pink oversized sweater, white skirt and tie your hair back in a pony tail with a white bow to accompany it. You slip on your shoes and walk off to your morning class as if nothing happened last night. You go through class perfectly fine, Geto and Gojo glancing at you. Ayame who comes in late, took her seat next to Geto. She too glances at you. Her slick smile fading as you wave at her with a smile.

You walk outside to where Geto and Ayame were having your lunch later that day. “Ayame!” You walk up to her, a fake smile plastered on your face. Ayame looks at you confused. Her stomach turns. She clears her throat, why should she be scared? “Can I talk to you?” You ask giving Geto the same soft smile. She stands up and kisses Geto’s cheek making the fist behind your back tighten. Gojo slides next to Geto. “What do you think they’re gonna talk about?” Gojo nosily asks Geto who looks at Gojo then you and Ayame nervously. “I don’t know man…” you stop next to a tree. You both converse like civilized people until ‘WHAM’, both Geto and Gojo stand up startled. Geto rushed over Gojo not too far behind. Ayame lands on her bum, shocked by the punch. “You’re so fucking fake, you know that?”

She scoffs. “It’s not like you were going to make a move anyways…you fucking psycho.” She stands up. “You’re always so quick to jump to conclusions, he’s the one who asked me out, he never liked your lame ass anyways.” She looks down at you a smirk on her face. You get ready to pounce on her until strong arms hold you back. You see Geto checking Ayame’s face. She pretends to cry as he wipes her nose with a napkin. Tears prick your eyes. ‘That should’ve been me’ you thought to yourself. Gojo turns you to face him and checks on you. Actual concern graces his beautiful features. Tears fall down your face.

Gojo’s face softens he sighs and pulls you in for a hug. Geto walks over to where Goji and you were standing. He pushes you behind him. All you could do was hold onto his sleeve. They both yell at eachother. You felt so numb. Geto leaves first with Ayame. Gojo huffs and takes your hand. He sits you both down at a bench. He hands you a new napkin every time you opened your hand for one. You finally calm down, he looks at you. You looked so pitiful, so innocent. You speak.

“I was so stupid to think he would like someone like me…” Gojo didn’t know why he felt so pissed. He lifts a hand to comfort you, instead he rubs the back of his neck. I mean like, who was he to comfort you? You both were hardly acquaintances. He glances at you then looks away. “Ya know…” a smug expression tugs at his lips. “You can always get revenge…” you look at him like he’s crazy. He shrugs. “Just an idea.” He looks at you, fondly. You stand up. “I-I don’t think that would be okay…two wrongs don’t make a right…” he sights and rolls his eyes behind his glasses. He stands up and stretches. I look him up and down. He was nothing but leg. You stagger back a bit when he leans close. “Alright…if you say so. But if you change your mind…” he holds his hand out.

You confusingly put your hand in his. He chuckles. “Your phone, pretty …” you blush hard. You fumble to get your phone. “O-oh right..” you hand it to him after unlocking it. He punches in his number and hands it back to you. He walks away after patting your head.

‘Her hand is so soft..’ he thinks to himself as he snickers when you text a small hi with a cute emoticon. “Cute-“

You and gojo hand grown decently past over that last few months. He even comes over to study with you when actually he’s not even paying attention, he’s just starting at you.

“Satoru! You keep complaining about your exam that’s in 2 days and you’re not even paying attention!” You pout and look at him frustrated. He licks his lips. “I am focusing…” he looks at your lips then at your eyes. Those eyes he could stare at for hours if you’d let him. Of course you wouldn’t. He smiles, you blush. Your stomach flops. You gulp and look away.

“Stop looking at me like that idiot!” He scoots closer to you. He gives you cheeky smile and nudges you. “You know…I don’t know what you saw in Geto…I’m so much better.” He states of so bluntly. You smack his arm and get up. I puts in a false frown. “You’re so mean to me!” He says while getting up after you. You walk to the kitchenette to get a water from the fridge. You bend over to reach the cold water in the back. He leans against the counter looking you up and down. You had a nice ass he’ll give you that.

You stand up, making him avert his gaze. Turning around to offer him a water which he gladly accepts. He clears his throat. His little crush on you was only getting bigger. You sit at the tiny dining table and scroll on your phone having given up on tutoring him. He sits next to you. He gently takes your phone away.

”Y/n I-i have something to ask…” he hesitates. You look at him with interest. “He feels himself sweat. Was it getting hot in here or was it just him, or you? He rubs the back of his neck. “I wanted to ask you where do you get your study habits from?” He smile. Real smooth Satoru. Your hopeful gaze dropped. He noticed and looks at you. You stand up and fiddle with your hands.

“Oh- I thought I don’t know…” you sigh. “Never mind…” he seemed so intrigued. “What? You thought that I- what?” He asked standing up as well. “I thought you were gonna….” You don’t look at him, you felt like you were gonna explode. “Finally ask me out..?” His crush was evident. He looks at you shocked. You look at him, your face bright red. “W-well don’t just stand there and-“ he cuts you off with a kiss. His hands cupping your cheeks. You were shocked at first but slowly melt into it.

It all happened so soon. You were in the kitchenette with him kissing. Then the next thing you know your body sprawled out on the bed, legs open while he rams relentlessly into you. “G-god..why didn’t we get together sooner?” He says breathlessly into your ear. You were so overwhelmed by the feeling of pleasure you couldn’t speak.

You dig your nails into the flesh of his back. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your legs jolting back as his hips snapped back into yours.

“O-oh fuck..Toru- ngh~ Fuck, fuck, FUCKKK” He smirks, his kisses soft compared to the harsh snap of his hips. “Makin me addicted to this pretty pussy baby…” he folds your legs to your chest hitting your G-spot perfectly. You grip the sheets, a sobbing drooling mess. “Yeah, you like that don’t you? Just needed some good dick to fill this messy cunt up huh?”

He sends a wet slap on your abused clit before rubbing ruthlessly. You toss your head back in pleasure. He chuckles his hips stuttering as he groans. “G-Geto c-can’t make you feel as good as me, now can he?” You couldn’t hear him, your brain almost completely turned off. He grabs your chin. “Right baby?” You nod and babble an incoherent yes. He laughs cruelly at how brain dead you were. “Drunk on my cock huh?”

You moan so loud anyone walking past could hear. He cusses under his breath feeling you clench around him. “You gonna cum baby? Let’s cum together yeah?” You nod desperately. Your thighs shaking. He thrusts a few more time before you both cum hard. Moaning each other's names in unison. He kisses your neck softly, slowly moving to your lips.

“Round 2?” He mischievously. You laugh and push his face away.

The next day you both walk into class late. The teacher looks between you both and shakes his head. “I’m not going to ask.” You both giggle as you walk to your seats. This time next to each other. Geto and Ayame look at you shocked.

Later that day Ayame sees you alone by a vending machine trying to get coffee. She slams her hand in the vending machine. The coffee falls. You bend down to grab the can. “Thanks..” you say opening it and taking a sip. She huffs. “You little slut..sleeping with me ex?” You look at her confused. “Okay? But you’re dating my crush. You’ll get over it eventually. She raises her hand to slap you. You stare at her blankly. Campus students stare and look waiting. She hesitates and lowers her hand. “I hate you Y/N L/N .” You shrug. She walks starts to walk off. “Oh by the way… can you move out, Satoru wants to move in…” she turns towards you. She looks at you baffled. You sip your coffee and smile. She stomps off.

Gojo takes your coffee coming from behind you and taking a sip. “Hey!” He smiles and hands it back to you. “How’d she take the news?” You smile and look at her yelling and complaining to Geto.

“I think she took it pretty well.”

I’m sorry for the shitty job I did at writing this. I didn’t want to leave you guys waiting any longer 😭I swear I write better.

🏷️ @lovee-them, @jotarohat, @youngpeachbread,@blindbabycadder24, @cresolia

[theleo28]

this is so gojo coded I'm so dead

😭😭😭

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DAwCILdv5gt/?igsh=eGIwYjdidmVtbjNl

[crimsondreamprod]

Oh ho ho! Kinktober 2023 day 4, "Teratophilia" (monster hugging) is a doozy with TWO versions of Sukuna and Satoru Gojo "hugging it out"!

[cuntphoric]

it’s stupid late. like 2:43am late. the kitchen’s dark except for the fridge light and the glow from your situationship phone screen, playing a random song that you had suggested him to listen to. you’re perched on the counter, legs swinging, wearing his hoodie and nothing else, and he’s standing between your knees with a slice of leftover birthday cake balanced on a plate in one hand and a fork in the other.

"open up, baby," gojo says, waving the fork near your face as if he was the one feeding a toddler. "here comes the airplane—"

you swat at him half heartedly but open your mouth anyway, letting him feed you. "you’re so dramatic," you mumble through the cake.

"i’m romantic," he corrects, licking the frosting off his thumb. "there’s a difference."

gojo's hair’s a mess, white strands fluffed up and sticking everywhere from sleep, but he still looks ridiculously sweet. like pretty boy sweet. like maybe i’d let you ruin my life sweet. and he’s shirtless, just soft skin, warm from sleep, and low sweatpants that are hanging on for dear life.

he’s all sleepy grins and sleepy eyes and god, he’s not even trying :(

"you’re staring," he teases.

"i’m thinking," you say, deadpan.

"that's scary," he hums. "wanna kiss to stop it?"

you don’t answer. just tilt your chin up, expectant, and he leans in slowly, until he’s kissing you with cake sweet lips and smiling into it.

he pulls back just a little, presses his forehead to yours, and breathes you in. "you," he says softly, "are the best thing that’s ever happened to my insomnia."

you roll your eyes, smiling softly. "you’re so corny."

"and yet," he steals another kiss, pecking quickly, "you still wanna make out with me on a counter at 2am."

[chososcutie]

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ─── BOUND BY VOWS, TORN BY DESIRE ─── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰

pairing ── satoru gojo x reader

teaser ── your kingdoms have been at war for what seems the longest time, ancient ancestors dating back bloodlines never ceasing in their feud. but now, with the upcoming of a new age, and a desperate need for heirs with an old, dying king on the throne, you are forced to resolve and seal the peace by marrying prince satoru, of an opposing nation.

content ── fluff, slow burn, heavy angst, eventual smut, royal!au, forced proximity, arranged marriage, one bed troupe, mommy issues, jealousy, historic!au, language, mention of drinking, kissing

count ── 5k

author’s note ── thank you to everyone who voted for this series!! this is going to be a multi part story, and i hope to continue if it does well, also i think i’m going to make more series’ down the line because this was fun :)

in two days you were to marry prince satoru.

it was at the crux of the two kingdoms' warring, and father was weak and desperate in those times.

your mother had grown unusually cruel, even more so than usual, her voice sharp and reprimanding, put under pressure by the ongoing conflict that never seemed to be getting better.

you were heartbroken when they told you, but not surprised. you had hoped you would get to choose your own partner to spend the rest of your life with, but it seems cruel fate had other plans.

you had tried to reason with your mother to get out of it, that there were other ways to resolve a war other than sending off your daughter to be married to an unknown man from another kingdom, but she was having none of it.

it was really a matter of convenience. a way to set up a peace treaty, arrange a marriage, and combine two impossibly rich kingdoms? you had known your parents long enough to know they never loved in the way they were supposed to, always king and queen before mother and father, and that they’d take this opportunity in a heartbeat, no matter the cost.

you hadn’t however, known how soon everything would progress, until days later when you received an invitation in the mail, unsigned, and enclosed in a thick brown envelope, complete with the royal seal stamped pristinely on the front.

we hereby invite you to the royal marriage of… it read in rich gold lettering, looping cursive filling the page. little illustrations litter the margins, and a single grainy folded-up picture flutters out upon its opening.

when you unfurl it, it reveals the man you were to marry.

prince satoru gojo, in all his glory, wearing a pristine white and gold suit, a coy smile curving his lips, and soft, cloudy white hair fluffed up, a sword at his hip and azure blue eyes boring into yours.

for a second all you can do is stare, taken aback by his beauty.

you had heard of how gorgeous the prince was, being the talk of almost every woman in the kingdom for his good looks and charm, but you had never seen him up until now.

he was drop-dead ravishing. the kind of beauty one saw only in dreams.

“i see you’ve received the invitation.”

your mother’s calculated voice.

you quickly wheel around, her eyes fixed on you coolly. “we’ve gotten word to head to the gojo clan estate now. they will receive you there.”

“but..” you start, hoping against hope that maybe you could get through to her, and beg her not to send you off.

“please don’t disappoint us.” she eyes you disdainfully. “this arrangement means a lot for our kingdom, and it’d do you well to start thinking about what’s best for your disciples rather than your own wants.”

you stare at her. was she calling you selfish for not wanting to wed a man you had never met?

suddenly, the heavy hoofbeats of a horse-drawn carriage breaks the silent tension stretching between you two, a graceful steady gait of horses coming toward you causing you to quickly turn back to your mom, eyes pleading.

“please.. don’t make me.”

in your wildest dreams, her eyes soften and she looks at you with something different then, something resembling love, before scooping you up into her arms and kissing you on the forehead like a mother would, calling you her precious only daughter, and promising to never send you off, and what was she thinking, before calling off the wedding completely.

but instead, she stares at you, detached as if you were nothing more than a pawn in her intricate chessboard of royalty, your worth determined only by what you could provide for the kingdom.

the carriage comes to a halt in front of you, horses snorting and whinnying as you stare back at the face that looks so much like your own, only lacking the empathy you had always longed for.

“get in the carriage.” she says simply.

and realizing she’s not going to change her mind, you study her face for the last time, as if committing it to memory, that same stony unchanging expression that had been with you all through your childhood, before opening the door, and looking ahead, eyes hollow.

maybe this new husband wouldn’t be that bad, after all.

after a few hours of the carriage lurching and bumping along cobblestone trodden pathways, your head craning to look out from the slightly drawn curtains, you make it.

and just as you imagined, prince satoru's estate is big.

in fact, big didn’t even begin to describe it, with towering iron-wrought gates, and a winding driveway all leading up to a fairy-tale like palace.

statues of noble figures stand tall, outlined against its magnificence, and the castle itself is a rich ivory color, accented with shimmers of golden turrets reaching up into the sky, their tips brushing the clouds themselves.

quickly, you are ushered out, the carriage door held open for you by the coachman, and before you get a chance to take in the elegant grounds of the estate, royal servants are already waiting to greet you, all polite smiles as they advise you to follow them inside.

on the way, they tell you that you were to be properly welcomed to the gojo clan before tomorrow's highly anticipated ceremony, in the form of meeting the king and queen in charge, along with your husband to-be.

you take the chance to glance around, taking in all your surroundings, everything ancient and wooden, with small adornings of mythological figures decorating the walls along with paintings dating back to centuries-old wars, history written all across the panelling prominently.

finally, the royal attendants come to a stop in front of a long-winding corridor, leading all the way down toward an ornate wooden door, its magnificent size amongst the others causing it to stand out notably.

"this is master gojo's suite, and where you will be staying with him for the rest of your time here." says the servant nearest to you, beginning to back up slowly, the others in tow. "the king has asked that you meet with him beforehand, so you two can become acquainted. we shall leave you to it."

and with a final bow of his head, he's gone, leaving you to stand in front of the intimidating mahogany door, its broad outline almost menacing in the dimness of the passageway.

as you make your way to it, you push on it hesitantly, only to be met with resistance as it groans in protest, unwilling to budge.

you try the door handle. locked.

you look up again. you know this is the right door. so why isn't it..?

it opens so suddenly, you with all your weight resting on its frame can't stop yourself. you immediately topple over, letting out a soft oof! of surprise as you crash into something warm yet solid, your body pressing hard against it.

budging.

regaining yourself, you can't help but feel the flexing muscle under your palms, looking down to see a man's chest, his quick exhale of breath making you retract immediately.

and looking up, you're met with the sight of none other than soft white hair and blue eyes coming to blink hazily at you.

a vaguely familiar smirk curving his lips as he sets sights on you.

the man in the picture.

your husband to-be.

satoru.

"hello wifey.." he drawls out, tone almost mocking as he stares down at you, dressed in traditional heavy white robes. "i take it you're excited for the marriage?"

pointedly, his eyes fix on where your other hand is dangerously close to gripping his... lower half, so to speak.

flustered, you instantly step back, face blushing immensely. "m-my apologies my lord, i didn't mean to be so forward. i was sent here to meet you before the meeting, and.."

you notice his teasing grin seems to drop for a moment, eyes searching the halls for signs of life. once he knows you two are the only ones, his expression hardens, blue eyes becoming unreadable.

you were alone together.

"lets get one thing straight, princess. you're here to fulfill your role, nothing more, nothing less. i don't care for pleasantries. there's no reason for us to pretend we're anything other than strangers bound by a marriage of convenience."

you try to back away, eyes wide as you make a small involuntary noise in the back of your throat, but he doesn’t let you, coming closer.

"we'll carry out the duties expected of us, and that's all." he continues. "do what is necessary, but don't make the mistake of thinking i'm interested in anything beyond that."

you bristle slightly at his words. "oh, you think i want this? you think i want to be married to you? in a foreign enemy kingdom i don’t even know? because i don't! but there's no way of getting out of it, so why can't you at least afford to be nice?"

he scoffs. "nice? you and your kingdom have ruined my life! you've robbed me of any chance i had at making my own life choices, and i'm supposed to be "nice?"

"why are you acting like i made this marriage? it's not my fault! that's the whole point of an arranged marriage, it's arranged for you!" you don't even realize you're raising your voice until your words begin to echo off the vast walls, bouncing around you tersely. "and if i had, i certainly wouldn't have picked an asshole such as yourself.”

he steps closer, tilting his head at you. “careful what you say about your husband, sweetheart. or you just might get yourself in trouble.”

you know you should stop before you escalate things, but you can’t help it, jutting your lip out at him in a mocking pout. “yeah? make me then.”

in a heartbeat, he has you pinned against the wall behind you, one thigh holding up your weight as the warmth of his bulky frame surrounds you, cerulean blue eyes raking across your face steadily.

you let out a small gasp of surprise, but quickly recover, eyes narrowing on him fiercely.

he leans ever so slightly closer, crowding your space completely as his loud, sultry patchouli cologne surrounds you, alluring and familiar all at once.

his breath ghosting over your lips, is warm and cinnamon-y, as he stares down at you, eyes lidded and just daring you to defy him again.

"excuse me, mister and mistress gojo? your presence is requested now."

immediately, satoru jumps back as if stung, eyes lingering on you a moment longer, before stalking away in temporary surrender.

you push off the wall, feeling the servant's eyes on you questioningly, but not bothering to indulge him, simply brushing yourself off before rapidly following suit.

“your majesties, it is truly an honor to meet you both.” you take a small curtsy to the king and queen you were standing before, lifting your dress to show respect.

satoru rolls his eyes subtly, shifting beside you.

his father shoots him a look, all graying hair and wise crinkling eyes. “the pleasure is all mine, my dear. it’s nice to meet someone with proper mannerisms and respect for the crown.”

you smile. “yes, well i was raised in a kingdom, after all.”

beside him, satoru’s mother, the queen, grants you a kind smile, long white hair flowing around her mirroring her son's. “that you were.” she agrees. “which is why we are so honored to have you here at our own, and to finally resolve the peace that has been fleeting for so long. you have no idea how much this marriage means to both us and the kingdom.”

satoru sighs.

instantly, the queen’s eyes bore into him. “i’m sure you’ve been acquainted with your husband, prince satoru. he is just as pleased as the rest of us for this opportunity you and your kingdom have bestowed upon us, it was rather benevolent of them, and we are eternally in their debt.”

you get the feeling that they've been having disagreements with the arranged marriage, judging by their body language, and instantly the air grows thicker, more tense.

before the situation can progress however, the queen clears her throat, smiling politely at you. "why, it's been a long day, and i'm sure you're tired, sweetheart."

her attention turns toward her son, her voice holding a warning to it that you can't ignore. "satoru. walk with her to your rooms please, and accommodate her."

he nods, and doesn't even wait to see if you're following before retreating hastily, leaving you to chase after him.

finally, you find yourself back in front of the long-winding hallway leading to his─your─ bedroom, and he pauses, as if remembering something.

"we're going to have to share a bed."

your heart skips a beat, breath catching in your throat as he opens the door to reveal a mahogany bed, draped with quilted covers and over-extravagant silk pillows slightly rumpled by sleep. you had forgotten that as a married couple, it would be custom for you two to sleep together, just the thought of being in such a close, intimate space with him causing your pulse to race, whether with anger or.. something else, you can’t tell.

"no we're not." you move toward the bed, grabbing spare pillows and blankets to make your own on the plush carpet, vowing to stay as far as possible from that stuck-up prince.

you hear him sigh from where he's leaning against the doorway watching you.

footsteps pad across the floor toward you, before coming to a stop. "listen. i know this isn't ideal, but it is part of our arrangement to sleep in the same bed, as a married couple."

you gaze up at him coolly. "i'm sleeping here."

he runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "this is part of what is expected of us, and we need to fulfill our duties as a royal couple. just.. get on the bed, and face the other direction, if you must."

you ignore him, tucking yourself into the blankets you had set up with a small yawn, turning to face away from him pointedly.

all is silent for a single, peaceful moment, but then, two unfairly muscular arms are wrapping around your frame, and lifting, scooping you up into him as with a squeal, you kick, trying to get away.

one of your feet makes contact with his side, and he lets out a low grunt before throwing you roughly onto his stupidly huge bed.

"keep fighting all you want, sweetheart. i can do this all night."

for some reason, his words come off more provocative than anything, and you can't help the fact that the stern sultry purr of his coupled with it tinges your cheeks pink ever so subtly.

"i'll tell you one thing about this arranged marriage. as my wife, you are going to listen, and you are going to obey what i tell you, okay? i will not put up with attitude and immaturity.”

your cheeks warm at being scolded like a child, and all you can do is scoff in disbelief before turning over, resigned to your spot on the bed, vowing to stay as far away from him as possible.

you scoot all the way to the edge, squeezing your eyes shut angrily as tears of frustration prick at you.

just who was he to boss you around?

a few terse minutes tick by, with both of you silent, facing away from each other, the only sound being satoru's soft puffs of breath, sleep eluding you further.

you’re trying your best not to let your skin make contact with his in the slightest, but it’s proving difficult with the way his weight makes the bed dip in the middle, trying to draw you toward himself.

this was going to be a looong night.

you figure you eventually fall asleep at some point, because when you open your eyes again, sunlight is peeking through the windows, and something hard and hot is pressed stiffly against your back, insistent with its prodding.

you reach down, half-asleep, to move it away, but your hand connects with something pulsing and.. large. you trail your hand further up, eyes scrunching in confusion only to feel a small shudder under your palm, someone breathing fast and loud right next to you.

satoru.

you instantly scramble away, eyes wide, in your haste falling off and hitting the floor with a low thud.

this wakes him up, half-lidded eyes opening to take in your tangled form on the ground. “what are you doing?”

“y-you..!” you sputter out, frozen as you stare at him in disbelief.

he follows your gaze to his pants, a straining bulge printed on the front clearly.

his cheeks warm, and he looks down, mumbling under his breath. "mornin' wood.."

before you can bring yourself to speak however, two sharp knocks against the door break the awkward silence, followed by the voice of a servant outside.

"madame and master, it’s time to prepare you both for the wedding ceremony."

“ow!”

you scrunch your eyes tightly, pain washing over you in waves.

the stylist pauses, taking in your expression sympathetically before resuming to tug at your poor hair, putting it up into an intricate updo, a plaited bun with face-framing hairs and bangs, hot curlers and bobbypins attacking you left and right.

"just sit still, dear." one pushes your head back, while another tilts your face to the side to furiously blend foundation on your cheeks.

this day would only come once, in your lifetime at least, and being a royal wedding, of course, everything had to be perfect.

you and satoru were being relied on as human peace treaties to prove to the world that for the first time, your kingdoms were united, marking the official end of the war.

which is why, not only were appearances important, but also your actions towards satoru had to be convincing enough for the clan to wholeheartedly believe you two were in love, and effectively stop the fighting at hand.

so today was more important than ever that you look fully and maddeningly in love with satoru gojo.

you sigh to yourself, but suddenly your thoughts are cut off by the proud voice of your main stylist taking a step back to admire her handiwork.

"perfect. absolutely perfect." the rest nod in agreement, and with a few last touches, you're ready.

and as you all head to where the ceremony would be held, to describe how you're feeling right now as overwhelmed would be an understatement.

currently, there's about two thousand people waiting for you, all elegantly dressed, their heads held high with self-importance.

even the palace is decorated for the occasion, banners and emblems of the gojo clan stamp hanging proudly over the room, while decorative flowers in vases cover every available surface.

you shift your feet nervously, waiting for your signal to walk the aisle, praying that you wouldn't trip or embarrass yourself, fidgeting with your dress anxiously.

the wedding dress in question, was a classic take on a vintage ball gown look, with a too tight-fitting cream-colored corset billowing out dramatically from the waist into a poofy, tulle skirt, and currently it was killing you as you tried to take deep breaths, its taut stiffness practically constricting your lungs.

to make matters worse, it pushed your breasts obnoxiously up, and showed off your outline far too much to be comfortable, contouring every curve distinctively.

before you can try and pull it down however for what seems the hundredth time, the renowned quality of a simple elegant instrumental begins playing, signifying your entrance, and time seems to stop.

your heels click softly on the marbled stone, each step seeming to magnify in the large room spread out before you.

highly prestigious people, who had dismissed you before as nothing but a simple child princess living in her daddy’s kingdom were now all craning their heads to get a better look at you, hushed gasps and chatter sweeping through the crowd as you pass.

slowly, you begin to make your way down the dramatically decorated aisle, and as you get closer to the altar, you spot satoru, leaning slightly, cerulean eyes focused solely on you.

he’s dressed elegantly, in a frilly suit that matches the color of his eyes, all extravagant buttons and poofy sleeves, with crisscrossing gold lace, and a white overspilling cravat on the front.

he tilts his head as if to study the dress you're in, intense blue gaze raking up and down to ravish your clearly outlined figure.

your cheeks flush, his effect on you instantaneous as unbearable though he is.

slowly, you come to stand at your spot beside him, nervous as you look around at the crowd.

what happens next, you hadn't been expecting at all.

as one, they get up, and shower you both in applause, claps as precise and unified as their owners, the sound heard all the way around the entire palace, as they all give a standing ovation to their new king and queen of a new era.

the blush creeps up your neck, and you look around at your new subjects, all of them cheering for you.

after a minute or so of this, they begin to gradually quiet, sitting back down while both you and satoru turn to face each other.

the royal priest clears his throat for attention, and begins his long winding speech, garbled words slurring together as you stare at satoru.

he was so beautiful, breathtakingly so. his white hair is fluffed up, showing his high cheekbones, and he even has a bit of makeup on him, contour and powder.

in fact you’re staring at him so intensely, so swept up in him, you don’t even realize the priest is talking to you until he’s raising an eyebrow at you expectantly, the crowd hushed.

“huh?” you hear yourself say, embarrassment pinking your cheeks.

he clears his throat, speaking a little louder. “do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better..”

when you glance back at satoru, he’s looking at the priest, but there’s a curve to his mouth, amusement glinting in his eyes.

insufferable.

you take a second to let your eyes roam the audience, and happen to land on a particular face, one you hadn’t seen before.

she's wearing a knee-length navy blue dress, one that highlights her chubby figure and pudgy stomach, and a hat which covers most of her face. her head, though covered, is bowed low, as if in shame, which stands out to you as most of the audience is gazing up, at you and satoru, heads perked for a better look.

before you have time to further analyze however, you’re snapped back to the priest who is finishing up his speech.

“..till death do thy part. do you pledge your faithfulness and devotion, and promise to be thy loving wife, forevermore?”

your head starts to spin, the weight of his words sinking into you fully. you were to be with this man, whom you hadn’t even met before yesterday, for the rest of your life. all your hopes and dreams outside of the kingdom may as well come crashing down on your head once you were to speak those forsaken words.

after today, you would be queen, alongside your husband, the king.

at the very thought of being so responsible, the words stick in your throat, face paling. you have the urge to say no, to call the whole thing off, to truly disappoint your parents and disgrace satoru’s family for eternity, because this was your life. your life, and nobody got to take that from you.

you force a smile. “i do.”

the ring-bearer comes up to you, a ring on a fluffed pillow for you to take, its band gold and cool in your palm as you pick it up, a baby blue gem encrusted with the gojo symbol across it staring back.

you had never chose, nor seen this ring in your life.

he turns to satoru. “and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to..”

you turn to satoru, expecting to see that same playful smirk, but something else has replaced it, more open and raw.

maybe he was feeling the implications too?

“..promise to be thy loving husband, forevermore?”

he swallows, pauses for a second too long, before speaking, the words cool and strangely detached. “i do.”

his ring comes, silver and chiseled with symbols of royalty, all sleek metal and polished, shining pristinely in the light. it has diamonds encrusted all over it, each worth more than a house, along with his precious initials, s.g, carved into it.

he takes it without looking at it.

“then by the power vested in me, i now pronounce you man and wife.” he turns toward satoru. "you may now kiss the bride."

your mouth goes dry, and for a second, all you can do is gape at satoru while the priest's words register in your head.

shit. how could you have forgotten you would be expected to kiss him? it was a wedding after all.

satoru's mouth curves up as he leans in slightly toward your ear, his hair brushing you. “c’mon princess, kiss your husband for the audience, yeah?”

you blush, and oblivious to all the people and the priest standing less than a foot away, he goes on, “although, don't be too good of a kisser, or i might get used to..."

before he can continue, you grab his face in your hands, pressing your lips hard against his, if just to make him shut up, and he pauses, taken aback, before slowly his hand creeps up to cup your cheeks gingerly, hesitantly leaning in to it.

the crowd all cheers around you, but you can’t even hear them anymore, all of it fading around you.

he's your first kiss.

he tastes like cinnamon and clove, like something spicy and reckless, his tongue already coming to meet yours in a brash tangle.

as quickly as he had been on you however, he draws away, wiping his mouth with that same lopsided smirk tilting his lips upward, leaving you practically dizzy.

and as the rest of the ceremony drones on, you can't help yourself from wanting more.

it wasn't enough to leave you satisfied, and now that you've gotten a taste, you fear you might not ever get enough.

after the wedding ceremony, there was to be a reception where only the most prestigious and important of people would attend.

it was held in the palace ballroom, lavishly decorated for the occasion with crystal chandeliers, and silk draped tables filled with shiny silverware, everything overly classy and elegant.

when you enter beside satoru, they're already serving flutes of champagne, people milling about amiably and making pleasant conversation.

and if you thought you were popular before as a princess, you had no idea the kind of attention being a hot topic like you were now would bring.

before you're even two steps inside, there's already people surrounding you to congratulate you on your marriage, kiss you on the cheek in greeting, and welcome you as newfound queen to the throne.

after a few minutes of this, with no sign of the crowd of people easing up, you begin to get nervous.

there's just no way you can see to get out of it, and as you start to feel claustrophobic, your body being pushed and jostled by all these people wanting to meet, you feel a warm hand on the small of your back, guiding you away from the crowd.

satoru.

“i think it’s time for a dance.” he says before grabbing your warm, gloved hands in his, and twirling you out to the center of the dance floor, where a few couples were already swaying to a slow tune.

satoru takes his hands, placing them on either side of your waist, just above your hips, a lazy smirk curling his mouth up as his touch seems casual, natural almost.

it seems almost genuine, the way he flirts with you in the public eye only to blatantly disregard you in private.

well, two could play at that game.

you wrap your arms around his neck, and draw yourself closer, lips hovering above his, your front rubbing against him dangerously.

he inhales sharply, eyes flickering with heat for a second but before you get the chance to revel in the fact you could draw a reaction from him, he starts spinning you.

you gasp as he whirls you around, before starting to glide back and forth with you across the dance floor, a smug grin on his face as you try and keep up.

luckily for you, as royalty you were expected to know how to dance, and your parents had enrolled you in private lessons weekly, your feet falling into familiar steps as you swept along the floor with him.

he takes notice, hands gripping your waist tighter as he sways with you, quickening the pace. “who taught you to dance, princess?”

you can't tell if he's teasing, or being genuine so rather than answer, you glance down, pretending to focus on your steps as you try to ignore the fluttering in your chest.

and finally with one last dramatic twirl, your hands tracing delicate arcs in the air, the music crescendoes and satoru catches you in a perfect dip, your head tilting back with a flourish.

instantly, cheering erupts, the room absolutely filled with clapping and whistling as your chest heaves up and down, still in his arms.

you had been so caught up you hadn't even realized everyone had stopped to watch you two, and with your finish, you were now the center of attention.

and as you seat yourself in a chair across from satoru, the formal banquet about to begin, you finally answer his question, seemingly out of nowhere, making him come to a start as he looks at you.

"my mother put me in dance classes from a young age." you smile bitterly as the memory washes over you. "you know it's funny, she was always the most beautiful dancer in the ballroom at my kingdom, but she wouldn't teach me. said i was "too slow", "had two left feet", "didn't pick up quickly", and i was nothing like her. she had someone else instruct me, and every day i would go and practice as much as i could, in hopes of getting better and pleasing her."

"did you?" satoru presses.

you sigh sadly. "i did, but it was never enough for her. nothing was. i remember thinking when i was younger, that maybe there was something wrong with me, and that's why she couldn't love me. why anyone couldn't love me, really. i've always felt like just a mere decoration in my palace, just another step on my mother's agenda."

what he says next surprises you. "i get what you mean. ever since i was little, my parents have been telling me, "you're going to be king" "one day you're going to overtake the throne" and "think of your future kingdom", when all I ever wanted was to be a child."

he draws nearer to you. "but, that gets taken from you once you're born into a monarchy, right?"

you nod. "that, and everything else down to your way of life, your interests, your dreams.." you break off, eyes flickering down to his lips for a moment. "..your husband."

the conversation between you becomes more intimate as he leans in too, lips above yours, and just as you start to close the distance..

the distinct sound of a fork clinking against a glass.

the royal toasts were starting.

it was from satoru's father, the king, his wise, crinkled smile looking around at all his subjects. "hello everyone. we thank you for coming out tonight to celebrate the birth of a new age, as my son and the daughter of a rival kingdom have come together in marriage, forever binding our palaces as one. this marks the start to a new era."

he pauses, letting the people around break out into clapping, some cheering, before going on.

"as you are aware, i will be stepping back from my role as king, knowing our future is in capable hands, by your new king and queen.."

at that, he lifts a glass toward your table, winking solemnly.

"to satoru, my successor, my pride, and the future of this kingdom. may your reign be long, your rule wise, and may you bring many heirs to this kingdom."

wait.

heirs?

you turn to look at satoru, his face paling.

"to the future, to the kingdom, and to the continuation of our legacy!"

"long live the king!"

[carnalcrows]

EVER EVER AFTER

summary: You were supposed to marry a prince, not fall into a city full of strangers, skyscrapers, and coffee machines. But getting cursed was never part of the plan—and neither was meeting a little girl whose tired, sharp-eyed father who looked at you like you were something real. Tokyo isn’t a fairytale. But maybe, if you’re lucky, it doesn’t have to be.

pairing: robert! nanami kento x giselle! male reader

content warnings: 18+, romance, fluff, angst, smut (oral + p in a), bottom male reader, transdimensional travel, poisoned fruit, found family, light swordplay, reader wears enchanted formalwear, dragon lady attack (brief) unreliable narrator (even the author is confused).

word count: 5.2k (the lack of motivation is CLEARLY visible lmao)

better viewed in dark mode

The sun rose over the hills of Andalasia—or what you had always called home. A forest made of dream-soft pastels and impossible light, where the air smelled faintly of honeysuckle and every morning began with birdsong, where deer peeked from behind trees and squirrels held sewing needles with practised grace. It was perfect. Which, to you, meant it was normal.

You twirled on the cottage balcony, robe fluttering behind you, humming a half-finished melody. Bluebirds circled your head in swooping arcs. A pair of chipmunks tugged ribbons between their teeth, and a badger attempted—unsuccessfully—to thread a button onto a coat with trembling paws.

"Almost done!" you said brightly, kneeling beside the dress form shaped from hollowed bark and stitched leaves. “Prince Gojo is going to love this. Well… maybe. I mean—I hope he loves it. It’s just our wedding, after all.”

You paused, blinking, suddenly dizzy with the thought—your wedding.

The forest rustled its approval.

Of course, you’d only just met yesterday. But he’d heard your song. You’d danced on the edge of a waterfall. And when you’d fallen into Gojo’s arms—gracefully, from a cliff, as one does—it had just felt right. That had to mean something. That had to be love.

“Right?” you asked a passing bird.

It chirped something vaguely affirming.

You sighed dreamily, collapsing onto a bed of moss as the birds fluffed the hem of your suit. “A fairytale beginning. A prince. A kiss. And a happily ever after. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

But the forest didn’t hum back the way it usually did.

There was a pause—a stillness.

Then, from the trees—

A rumble.

The birds scattered. The chipmunks dropped their thread. You sat up just in time to see a troll barrel through the glade, teeth bared, claws glinting, eyes wild.

“Okay—not part of the plan!”

You scrambled upright, tripping over a ribbon, only to be yanked backwards by the collar as vines snared your feet. “Seriously—why is it always vines—?!”

Just before the creature could swipe you in half, something silver flashed through the air. A sword. A scream. A blur of white and gold.

Prince Gojo.

He looked like he’d leapt out of a painting—shirt torn, hair somehow perfect, grinning like the chaos was part of the fun.

“Darling!” he called, catching you one-armed while slashing the troll with the other. “I missed you!”

“I saw you yesterday—”

“Too long!” Gojo laughed.

And just like that, the troll was gone.

Vanquished. Heroic. Timed perfectly to the end of a crescendoing song you didn’t realise had started.

Gojo dropped the sword, cupped your face in both hands, and beamed. “Tomorrow,” he said, “we’re getting married.”

And you—still breathless, still dizzy—could only smile and nod.

Because why wouldn’t you?

You had everything you wanted.

Didn’t you?

The next morning bloomed golden and soft. Sunlight filtered through stained-glass leaves, casting patterns on the forest floor as woodland creatures bustled in preparation. Birds carried garlands of silk, chipmunks stitched last-minute adjustments on the embroidered sash, and even the badger from before had seemingly mastered buttoning techniques overnight.

You stood before the mirror, smoothing down the front of your ceremonial robes. Soft blue and ivory, lined with hand-stitched petals, every seam kissed by your own hands. It looked exactly like something you’d imagined as a child—what your future would look like. A storybook ending written in fabric.

Your reflection smiled back. But there was a weight behind it. No doubt. Just... static. A kind of quiet you hadn’t expected.

You shook it off. Today wasn’t for wondering. Today was for joy.

Outside, trumpets rang through the glade.

“Ready?” Gojo called, already astride a white horse, grinning like he was late to his own coronation. A dove landed on his shoulder. He winked at it.

You barely had time to laugh before someone stepped into your path—a stooped woman in a cloak, half-shadowed beneath a crooked hood. Her voice was like splintered wood wrapped in silk.

“Excuse me, dearie,” she said. “A moment, before your big day.”

You paused. The animals hesitated, feathers ruffling.

“I’m in a bit of a hurry,” you said politely, taking a half-step back.

She smiled—wide, too wide—and reached into her cloak. “Just a wedding gift.”

You didn’t see the hand until it was on your chest. You didn’t feel the ground until it was gone.

The sky twisted above you. The trees blurred, then bent, then shattered into light.

You were falling.

And falling.

And—

Your body slammed into something wet and hard. Your ears rang. Lights flashed—unnatural ones, bright and red and harsh. There were no birds. No singing. No flowers. Just the sting of pavement and a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

You groaned, rolling onto your side.

Towering buildings loomed above, steel and glass swallowing the sky.

And around you, a dozen strangers in suits and jackets walked past without even blinking.

You sat up, wide-eyed, soaked and shivering.

You weren’t in Andalasia anymore.

—

You stumbled to your feet, blinking hard against the lights. They came from everywhere—flashing boxes in the sky, windows that moved, towers made of cold silver and too much glass. The air stank of smoke and iron. The ground beneath you was not grass but something hard and grey, painted with stripes and humming faintly beneath your boots like it was alive.

A giant, glowing sign buzzed somewhere overhead in a language you couldn’t read. Another flashed to life with a jingle that made no musical sense. And still, not a single soul stopped.

People brushed past you without looking. Men in black coats talking into small glowing boxes. Girls with skirts that barely covered their knees, chewing gum and laughing too loudly. A man walked by holding a bag of something fried and orange, and no one said hello. Not even the dog he dragged behind him.

You blinked up at a traffic light.

A robot voice said something you didn’t understand.

“W-what is this place?” you breathed.

No one answered.

A car honked—an angry, blaring sound that made you spin around too fast and nearly fall again. It wasn’t a carriage. There were no horses. Just metal beasts that screamed without mouths, hurtling past in streaks of black and chrome.

“This isn’t right,” you murmured. “This isn’t real.”

You looked around wildly, hoping—praying—for a patch of trees, a trail of birdsong, anything that might lead you back. But there was only noise. Towers. People moving like they couldn’t see you.

Your throat tightened. You spun in place, chest heaving.

“Hello?” you called. “Can anyone hear me? I think—I think I’m lost!”

A businessman glanced at you briefly, eyes skimming your embroidered robes and curling shoes. He shook his head and kept walking.

You swallowed. Hard.

Your hands trembled.

And for the first time in your life, you didn’t know what to sing.

Then—

“Papa, look!” a voice cried. High-pitched. Excited.

You turned.

A little girl was tugging at a man’s sleeve, pointing directly at you. She looked about six or seven, dressed in a tiny school uniform and pink sneakers. Her pigtails bobbed as she dragged her father toward you.

Her father—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a dark coat and tie—stopped just short of you. His expression was… tired. Mistrustful. And unreadable.

“Please,” you said, stepping forward. “I don’t know where I am. Or how I got here. But I think I’ve been cursed.”

The girl beamed. “I told you, Papa, he’s a prince!”

The man blinked.

Then sighed.

And said, flatly, “Oh, hell no.”

The man turned as if to walk away—already fishing in his coat for what looked like a phone, his jaw tight, his whole posture radiating not my problem. You scrambled after him, nearly tripping over your own hem.

“Wait—please!” you said, voice cracking. “I don’t know where this is. I was on my way to my wedding and then a hag—well, a woman, but you know—she pushed me down a well, and now everything smells like metal and why is the sky flickering—?”

“Okay.” He stopped, hands raised. “You need to calm down.”

“I am calm!” you said, not calm at all. “This is just my very composed panic voice!”

The little girl looked up at him. “Can we keep him?”

“We’re not keeping anyone,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction. He looked at you again—really looked this time. The dishevelled hair. The mud-spattered sash. The way you stood with your hands wringing in front of you, like you didn’t know what to do without a song to fill the air.

“You’re not from here,” he said slowly.

“No,” you breathed. “I’m from—” You paused. “Actually, I don’t think it exists here.”

“That makes two of us,” he muttered.

There was a long pause.

“Fine,” he said, and ran a hand down his face. “You can come with us. Just for now. Until we figure out who you are, or where you escaped from.”

You blinked. “I didn’t escape from anywhere.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

The little girl took your hand. Her fingers were warm. Grounding.

“I’m Nobara,” she said. “You’re gonna love our apartment. It has a couch. And juice.”

“That sounds…” You swallowed, trying to think of the right word. “...Comforting.”

The man sighed again, as if regretting every choice that led him to this moment.

“Kento Nanami,” he said.

You blinked up at him. “That’s a lovely name.”

“Don’t make it weird,” he replied flatly. Then turned, gesturing for you to follow.

So you did.

Because what else was there to do?

You were lost in a kingdom that didn’t believe in magic. Your prince was in another world. Your clothes were soaked. And nothing smelled like flowers anymore.

But for the first time since the fall, you felt just a little less alone.

The next morning, you tried your best to be helpful.

You folded the couch blanket into a perfect swan. You brewed tea using what you thought was a teapot—it was actually a rice cooker. You gave Nobara an elaborate forest-style braid, complete with twigs and a flower you found in the stairwell. She looked thrilled. Nanami looked... tired.

You were in the middle of sweeping the floor with a curtain rod when the doorbell rang.

Nanami opened the door and immediately tensed. The man on the other side stood tall, dressed in a tailored black coat, hair tied back with the kind of precision that said he’d never forgotten a single appointment in his life.

Suguru Geto.

He didn’t smile. “She ready?”

“She’s finishing her breakfast,” Nanami said, jaw tight.

Geto’s eyes slid past him—and landed on you.

He took in your embroidered cuffs. Your flower-pinned sash. The fact that you were still barefoot, holding a curtain rod like a staff.

There was a long pause.

“New roommate?” he asked.

“No.”

“Dating?”

“No.”

You stepped forward, cheerful. “Hello! I’m staying here until I figure out how to undo a terrible spell that may or may not have involved a cursed well and a power-hungry sorceress. Also, your daughter is delightful.”

Geto blinked.

“...Right.”

Nobara skipped into view, backpack in hand. “Dad, this is the guy who sings at the furniture.”

“Of course he is.”

Nanami handed her a lunchbox. “Back by six.”

“Don’t give me rules in front of the furniture guy,” she muttered.

Geto’s hand rested lightly on her shoulder. “Say goodbye, sweetheart.”

“Bye, magic prince,” she chirped. “Don’t turn into a tree.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The door clicked shut behind them.

Nanami stared at it for a long beat.

“Your co-parenting seems… tense,” you offered.

“I’m going to lie down on the floor.”

“That’s fair.”

⋆｡°✩

Down in the subway, Toji checked the note pinned to the inside of his jacket. A crude drawing of your face. A Tokyo address, scrawled in angry cursive.

He pulled out a polished apple, turning it slowly in his hand.

“Should’ve poisoned the horse,” he muttered.

But he took a bite instead—just to test—and promptly spat it out.

“Ugh,” he grimaced. “Too early for this.”

Then he tucked the apple away.

And followed the scent of magic through the city.

The next few days blurred.

You tried to adjust. Truly, you did.

But Tokyo wasn’t a fairytale kingdom—it was loud and messy and fast in ways you couldn’t quite understand. The birds didn’t sing back. The mice refused to sew. And your songs, no matter how sweetly sung, only earned you startled stares and someone in a bear costume handing you a flyer for a karaoke bar.

Nobara took it all in stride. She made you a “Do Not Pet the Pigeons” sign after you got pecked in Ueno Park. She showed you how to use a vending machine. She explained what an elevator was only after you had screamed.

Nanami… tolerated you.

Most of the time.

He scowled when you rearranged the bookshelf into colour-coded rainbow order. He gave you a deadpan look when you introduced him to your “talking shirt” (it wasn’t talking, you just liked it). But he never made you feel stupid. Or small. Or wrong.

And sometimes—only sometimes—you caught him watching you. Like he was trying to solve something he’d forgotten how to understand.

Those were your favourite moments.

⋆｡°✩

Toji arrived on day four.

You were at the apartment alone, dancing with a mop (named Gregory) to a tune you were humming. You twirled toward the door just as the bell rang and flung it open with a smile.

The man on the other side was all shadows and scar tissue.

“Oh!” you said. “Are you a delivery—”

The world tilted.

You hit the floor hard, dazed, a sharp smell filling your nose as something was shoved under it.

“Breathe deep,” the man said, crouching beside you, voice low. “Apple extract. You’ll be out in thirty seconds.”

You blinked. “Is that supposed to be threatening?”

“I mean…” He hesitated. “Yeah?”

“Oh.” You frowned. “It just smells like cinnamon.”

He blinked back at you.

You both stared.

“…Are you immune to poison?” he asked.

“No, just—very good at holding my breath.”

Toji groaned. “Of course you are.”

You scrambled backwards across the tatami mat, brandishing Gregory like a sword. “Are you a bandit? An assassin? A disgruntled pastry chef?”

“I’m your fate.”

“That’s very dramatic.”

Toji lunged—and was immediately tackled to the ground by an eleven-year-old with a bag full of textbooks.

“GET AWAY FROM MY GUEST!” Nobara screamed, absolutely feral.

Toji wheezed. “What the hell—”

Nanami arrived thirty seconds later, briefcase in one hand, tie askew.

He took one look at the scene—Toji pinned to the floor, Nobara biting his sleeve, you holding Gregory like a knight in training—and sighed so hard you could feel it in your bones.

“I don’t even want to know,” he muttered.

Then calmly tasered Toji.

You never loved anyone more.

Toji hit the floor with a grunt, the taser still humming in Nanami’s hand like the ending chord of a very satisfying song. Nobara stood over him triumphantly, arms crossed, one knee planted on his back like a gladiator claiming her kill.

“That’s what you get for sneaking up on a magical prince,” she said, breathless but proud.

“I’m not sneaking,” Toji groaned, dazed. “I rang the doorbell. I had manners.”

Nanami sighed and stepped over the fallen assassin, loosening his tie. “I told you,” he said, eyes on you, “don’t open the door for anyone.”

“I thought he was delivering something!” you said, indignant. “He looked vaguely gift-shaped!”

“He had a knife.”

“It was sheathed!”

Toji coughed. “You guys are the weirdest hostage situation I’ve ever seen.”

Nanami turned to him. “You’re going to explain everything. In detail. And if the words ‘poisoned apple’ come up again, I swear to god—”

Toji lifted his hands weakly. “Alright, alright. Let me sit up first. Your daughter’s kneecap is in my kidney.”

“She’s not my daughter,” Nanami muttered.

“Rude,” Nobara said.

⋆｡°✩

After Toji was zip-tied to a dining chair (you were very proud of that knot, by the way), he admitted to working for “a certain powerful woman”—which, with a little pressing, turned into “Queen Meimei,” which then quickly turned into “look, I just do what I’m paid for, alright?”

“She sent you to kill me,” you said, arms folded, standing like judgment incarnate in your mismatched pyjamas.

“I mean, she said gently assassinate, but yeah.”

Nanami looked at him, stone-faced. “That’s not a real phrase.”

Toji gave him a lopsided grin. “It is in my line of work.”

“And where did you even get these apples?” Nobara asked, sniffing one suspiciously. “They look like they’ve been dipped in nail polish.”

Toji groaned and leaned back in the chair. “Look, I just need the guy to go back through the magic well, and everything’s fine. No more apples. No more death. No more me being choked out by an eleven-year-old.”

“Ten and a half,” Nobara corrected.

“I stand corrected.”

You tilted your head. “So... you’re not evil. You’re just... working retail for witches?”

Toji blinked. “Honestly? Yeah.”

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is insane.”

You smiled widely. “But at least now we know I am cursed! Which means if we find the well again, I can return to Andalasia and marry Saturo—Gojo. Prince Gojo.”

And just like that, the room went silent.

You didn’t notice. You were already dreaming aloud again, pacing slowly, hands gesturing at nothing. “He must be worried sick. I hope he’s okay. He’s probably searching every corner of this strange kingdom for me as we speak—”

⋆｡°✩

Gojo sneezed into a Tokyo metro map, upside-down, perched on top of a garbage truck.

“Megumi,” he muttered, “I think we’re lost again.”

The chipmunk on his shoulder did not answer.

Nanami didn’t say anything.

He just turned, walked into the kitchen, and opened the fridge with slightly more force than necessary. The door creaked like it was used to this. Like it had seen one too many magical princes show up in silk pants, talking about true love.

You stood frozen in the centre of the room, suddenly aware of how quiet it had gotten.

Toji raised a brow from the dining chair. “So. That’s awkward.”

Nobara leaned against the wall, chewing her rice cracker. “He’s jealous.”

“What?” you blinked. “Jealous of Gojo?”

She nodded sagely. “Mmhmm.”

Toji chuckled. “Yeah, buddy. He is so in love with you.”

“I—he’s not—” You faltered. “He barely even likes me.”

“He let you reorganise his bookshelf,” Nobara said.

“He cooked for you,” Toji added.

“He let you stay on the good couch.”

You blinked. “There’s a bad couch?”

Toji pointed. “You’re sitting on it.”

“Oh.”

You turned slowly, looking toward the kitchen. Nanami was still there, still pretending not to listen, still staring into the fridge like he expected it to give him emotional clarity.

You bit your lip.

“I didn’t mean to make things weird,” you said quietly.

Toji rolled his eyes. “You’re a singing forest prince. Things have been weird since you showed up.”

Nobara nodded solemnly. “He needs a push.”

“A gentle push,” you emphasised. “Not—”

She was already gone.

You heard her in the kitchen.

“Hey, Nanamin,” she said sweetly. “You still into emotionally repressed denial, or should I start calling him Dad?”

Nanami choked on his water.

You sank into the couch. “I’m going to die here.”

⋆｡°✩

Meanwhile, across the city, Gojo had decided that the best way to find you was to sing louder.

He stood on top of a moving float in a parade he was not invited to, throwing roses and belting ballads while Megumi tried to chew through his robe in protest.

“Where is my prince, so noble and kind—”

A child threw a soda at him.

“Rude,” he muttered. Somewhere above, a crow perched on a lamppost and cawed once, low and warning.

Back in her suite, Meimei tapped a finger to her wineglass and smiled slowly.

It was time for her to take matters into her own hands.

You stood by the window after dinner, watching the lights of the city flicker like stars fallen to earth. There was a moment, quiet and small, where it hit you all at once. The strangeness. The softness. The fact that you hadn’t sung in days and didn’t miss it like you thought you would.

Behind you, Nanami moved through the kitchen like a man on autopilot. Cleaning a plate. Drying a cup. Never looking directly at you.

“I didn’t mean to make things difficult,” you said, breaking the silence. “With Gojo. With everything.”

Nanami paused. His reflection met yours in the window, faint and ghostlike.

“You didn’t,” he said. “You just reminded me that... I used to believe in love, once.”

You turned. “You still do. You just don’t want to.”

He leaned against the counter. “Maybe.”

There was a beat.

Then—

“Are you going back to him?”

The question caught you off guard.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I was so sure, before. But now… there’s something about this world. It’s messy and loud and everything hurts more, but it’s also real. And honest. And—”

You looked at him.

He was already looking at you.

“I think I’d miss this,” you whispered. “You.”

The air thickened between you. You took a step forward. So did he.

And then—

“Formal invitation,” Nobara announced from the hallway, holding a sparkly gold envelope. “From Geto’s weird rich cousin. You’re all invited to a ball tomorrow night.”

You stared at her.

Nanami groaned.

“I already picked your outfits,” she added.

Of course she did.

⋆｡°✩

The next evening arrived faster than you expected.

The ballroom shimmered in warm gold and marble. The floor was polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the chandeliers like upside-down constellations. You stepped inside in a suit that Nobara had helped tailor herself, complete with lace cuffs and a soft lavender ribbon at your collar. You hadn’t seen Kento yet, and your chest ached with how badly you wanted to.

Then he appeared.

Dark vest, gold trim, hair swept just slightly off his brow. He looked uncomfortable and perfectly composed. But when he saw you, really saw you, something softened around his eyes.

“Wow,” you breathed.

He stepped closer. “Likewise.”

There was music, low and elegant.

He offered you his hand.

And when you took it, the world fell away.

You danced like you’d known each other forever. Quiet steps. A shared rhythm. A warmth you didn’t know how to carry in words. His hand on your back. Yours at his shoulder. Eyes never leaving one another’s.

When the final note faded, he didn’t let go.

And when he walked you home through the quiet streets—through alleys lit by vending machines and the distant hum of traffic—you didn’t want to say goodbye.

So you didn’t.

You took his hand.

Led him upstairs.

And kissed him like it was the only magic you still believed in.

⋆｡°✩

He led you to the bedroom like he was afraid the spell might break. The city lights spilled in through the blinds in fractured gold, brushing along your skin when he pushed your jacket from your shoulders, slow and careful. When you reached for him, it was with both hands and everything you hadn’t said all evening.

He was warm beneath your touch. Real. No prince. No fantasy. Just him.

And you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted a fairy tale.

He kissed you as if he meant to remember every sound you made. His mouth moved slowly along your jaw, your collarbone, down the centre of your chest—each touch deliberate, tender. His hands never rushed. He made room for you to gasp, to pause, to smile between breaths. He only moved closer when you pulled him in.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered.

He touched your face like he wanted to say something back, but just couldn’t.

⋆｡°✩

Clothes slipped away quietly. The warmth between you built in slow waves—hands gliding over skin, mouths tracing every curve, breath curling soft and shaky in the quiet.

It was not hurried. It was not practised.

It just was.

Every sigh from you drew one from him. Every time you reached for him, he was already there. When he finally pressed against you fully, it wasn’t about lust—it was something deeper. A need to feel known. To be held in a way that felt like truth.

You trembled. He kissed you through it. Moved slowly. Anchored you.

The rhythm you found was soft. Gentle. Like music made without notes. It built in heat, not force. In need, not hunger. Until the world narrowed to just breath and skin and the steady echo of your name on his lips.

You let go with your head tilted back and your heart aching with how much you felt. He followed, arms wrapped around you like he didn’t want to let go. As if he were terrified you’d vanish if he blinked.

⋆｡°✩

Later, the two of you lay tangled in quiet.

His fingers trailed absent-minded patterns against your spine. You watched the light move across the ceiling and listened to the city outside. For the first time in your life, you didn’t wonder if this was a dream.

You knew it was real.

And that, somehow, was even better.

The morning came softly.

You woke with Nanami’s arm still draped across your waist, his breath warm against the back of your neck. The light through the curtains was a pale gold, gentle, hesitant. The kind of morning that didn’t rush you.

You didn’t move at first.

Not because you were afraid—but because you didn’t want to disturb what felt, impossibly, like peace.

When you did shift, just slightly, his grip tightened. A subtle, instinctive pull that made your chest ache in the best way.

You turned to face him.

He blinked once, slowly, then smiled the smallest, softest smile you’d ever seen on him. No walls. No filters. Just… him.

“Good morning,” you whispered.

He answered with a kiss, quiet and unhurried, like a secret passed between you.

For a few minutes, there was nothing but the rustle of sheets, the hush of breath, and the way his hand never left yours.

Until the doorbell rang. You both froze.

Nanami groaned. “Tell me that’s not your enchanted raccoon again.”

You laughed. “Megumi is a chipmunk.”

“Not better.”

You pulled on your robe as Nanami padded to the door. He opened it—

And found Toji standing on the other side, holding out a glinting red apple in the palm of his hand.

“I come bearing brunch,” Toji said. “Very specific brunch.”

Nanami frowned. “You’re supposed to be in jail.”

“I was bored.”

You stepped into the hall, hair tousled, smile still warm from sleep. “Oh! Good morning—”

“Don’t eat that,” Nanami cut in, pointing at the apple. “That’s definitely cursed.”

Toji looked wounded. “What, just because it’s glossy and red and I’m a former assassin working for a magic sociopath? Wow. Judgmental.”

You squinted at it. “Is it poisoned?”

Toji hesitated. “Maybe just a little.”

Nanami reached for the taser.

Toji backed up. “I didn’t give it to him yet! Geez. No appreciation for dramatic timing.”

⋆｡°✩

But later that evening, after laughter, after tea, after something that felt dangerously close to happiness, you stepped into the kitchen alone.

The apartment was quiet. Nanami was brushing his teeth. Nobara had passed out face-first on the couch.

And there, sitting in the fruit bowl like it belonged, was the apple.

Red. Shiny. Smelling faintly of roses and honey.

You stared at it. A whisper trailed through your thoughts.

Forget him.

Forget all of this.

One bite—and it all goes back to the way it was. The ball. The prince. The perfect fairytale ending.

You reached out. Touched the apple’s skin.

And just as your fingertips curled around it, A voice behind you said, silk-smooth and evil:

“I knew you’d choose the story over the ending.”

You turned.

Meimei stood in the doorway, all dark velvet and cold eyes.

And in that moment, you knew.

This wasn’t over.

You stepped back instinctively.

The apple clattered to the floor, rolling a few inches before coming to a stop, glinting under the overhead light like something out of a dream you no longer trusted.

Meimei smiled, slow and catlike. She looked impossibly at ease, standing in Nanami’s kitchen like she owned it. Not a wrinkle in her dress, not a hair out of place. Like she hadn’t crossed dimensions to murder you.

“Not quite the fairy tale you imagined, is it?” she said. “Too loud. Too grey. Too human.”

Your hand hovered behind you, searching for the counter. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Her eyes gleamed. “Neither should you.”

Nanami’s voice rang from down the hall. “Everything okay?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but Meimei was already moving.

Her hand struck with blinding speed, a push like wind and stone. The world lurched. You slammed back into the cabinet with enough force to knock the breath from your lungs.

“You should’ve stayed in the story,” she said. “Married your prince. Let me keep my crown.”

Your vision blurred. You tried to speak—call out, cry for Nanami—but the words got lost between your heartbeat and the copper taste in your mouth.

Meimei knelt beside you, lifted the fallen apple with two fingers.

“Don’t worry,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “It’s painless. Mostly. And after midnight, no one will remember you anyway.”

You reached for her wrist.

She offered the apple.

You hesitated.

And that was all she needed.

She pressed it to your lips—gentle, deceptively so—and the moment your teeth sank in, the world tipped sideways.

The floor vanished.

Your limbs went cold.

And then everything went black.

⋆｡°✩

Nanami found you less than a minute later.

The apple was split open on the tile. Your body lay crumpled against the cabinets, motionless. Too still.

For a second—just one—he couldn’t move.

Then he was at your side. Kneeling. Shaking your shoulders. Repeating your name over and over like it was a prayer he was too late to make.

Your eyes didn’t open.

Your chest didn’t rise.

Nobara screamed from the living room. Toji cursed. Someone called Geto. But all Nanami could do was hold you—arms wrapped tight around your limp frame—while the clock on the wall ticked closer to midnight.

And nothing happened.

⋆｡°✩

They gathered at the ball.

Meimei, radiant and smug, stood on the highest balcony like a queen crowned by cruelty. Gojo arrived too late. Nobara cried so hard her nose bled.

And Nanami—quiet, steady, breaking in the worst way—pressed one final kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” he whispered, broken.

And just as the clock struck twelve—

You breathed.

Your fingers curled in his lapel.

And your eyes opened.

⋆｡°✩

Meimei screamed.

She transformed—claws, wings, teeth. A dragon in heels. She lunged for Nanami. For you.

And you, in your borrowed suit and bare feet and messy hair, picked up the nearest decorative sword and ran.

You climbed, ducked, and dodged. She followed. Fire at your heels. Wind at your back.

On the rooftop, it ended.

One wrong step. One well-timed slip.

She fell.

And you watched as the last petal of the old story turned to ash on the breeze.

⋆｡°✩

The next morning was warm.

Gojo returned to Andalasia. Geto stayed behind, promising to stop being dramatic about joint custody. Toji left Tokyo with a train ticket and a new appreciation for tasers.

You opened a small fashion studio.

And Nanami?

He stood beside you, hand in yours, watching Nobara chase pigeons down the street.

“Are you really staying?” he asked.

You looked at him.

Smiled.

“I already am.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

Taglist: @zolass @edensrose @tamias-wrld @ilovesugurugeto69 @planetxella @mazettns @longlivegojo @midnight-138 @literallyrousseau @vimademedoitt @useless-n-clueless @flatl1n3 @hikaurbae @lexkou @razefxylorf @abrielletargaryen @coco-145 @eagleeyedbitch @deathofacupid @gayaristocrat @porcalinecunt @whatsaheartxx @thecringes2000 @sageofspades @g4vcat @itsrandompersonyall @blvdprn @blueemochii @sappychat @onyxxxxqq @axetivev @s1llygo0s3 @crazydirectioner2000-blog @thestarsallowed @honey-valentin3 @academiq @gaozorous-rex-blog @idkmissgurl @sooniebby @seomn

[pupkashi]

i think satoru would be so insanely cliche and giddy when the two of you start dating

he would buy you a bouquet of red roses and chocolate, sending you red hearts and changing your contact name to “sweetheart <3” or “my lover” his heart doing flips when he read you’d changed his contact name

angel boy <3, it read, he couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the night.

he would take you out to the movies and then for ice cream afterwards, he’d let you borrow his hoodies and blush when he saw how much larger they fit on you

he would write you love letters, telling you how much he liked you and how he was so happy with you, random doodles on the sides of the papers

anytime you’d leave sticky notes for him or write him a letter back he’d tuck it away in a chest in the back left corner of his closet, smiling anytime his eyes landed on the chest.

he’d walk you or drive you home all the time, sharing an earbud with you, having you on the inner part of the sidewalk and slipping his hand in yours, smiling bashfully when you intertwine your fingers with his

he would do everything in his power to make you happy, running out of your house for ice cream after you mentioned wanting it one (1) time

he is just such a hopeless romantic, chasing after the feeling of warmth and love that you gave him, the feeling of normality that you gave him.

satoru didn’t feel like the head of the clan or the strongest sorcerer in the world as you pulled him to watch the light show in the cold december air, or as you intwined your fingers with his while he walked you home.

a/n: hi hi friends !! something short and sweet since i didn’t have time to work on a longer one shot today , i hope yall still enjoy !!! lmk what u all think :3

masterlist

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

[rawjutsu]

chapter three.

pairing: snow leopard hybrid!gojo x bunny hybrid!femreader

keep up here

the days leading up to your heat have been nothing short of torture. you’re hot—constantly. even with the apartment’s a/c blasting like it’s mid-winter, you keep swiping sweat from your hairline and upper lip, burning from the inside out. your fur-lined ears twitch in irritation, and your fluffy tail keeps flicking like it’s trying to shake off the tension simmering under your skin.

the worst part? satoru offered to stay over at nanami’s earlier than planned.

“y’know, i don’t mind crashing with nanamin if you want some time… alone.”

alone.

you both knew "alone" meant you, probably failing miserably, trying not to hump everything in sight.

neither of you has brought up what happened after the grocery trip. not the quiet tension. not the way you’d shuffled off to bed and turned on your vibrator like you weren’t absolutely feral. but he knew. his ears were massive—fluffy snow-leopard things that twitched at the slightest sound. and with the way he kept sneaking glances at you the next morning? yeah. he definitely knew.

at least he didn’t know that he was the one on your mind during it. and you intended to keep it that way.

“it’s okay,” you huffed, waving off his offer. “i’ll be fine.”

satoru just nodded and dove back into his rare ribeye steak like it was the most natural thing in the world.

and that was that.

to say it’s been tense between you two would be a criminal understatement. you're constantly tiptoeing around each other—him, surprisingly, not wanting to cross any lines, and you desperately trying not to pounce. your instincts are going haywire. bunny brain going brrrrr. you’re practically vibrating.

not that you’re attracted to him. no. definitely not.

…it’s just that your brain goes rogue when heat’s coming. all you can see is a tall—very tall—muscular predator hybrid who oozes sex appeal even when he’s sweaty and half-asleep. especially when he’s sweaty and half-asleep.

and the way he refuses to wear real clothes at home isn’t helping.

you were getting ready for work one morning when he wandered out of his room, freshly woken, arms stretching high over his head. your gaze trailed along the fuzzy white happy trail that peeked out above his pajama pants—and you nearly buckled from the sheer wave of arousal that hit.

your ears shot straight up. tail twitched. whole body stiff.

satoru noticed. of course he did. his own snowy ears gave the slightest flick—like a radar catching prey movement.

he didn’t say anything, but you know he was dying to make a teasing comment.

you didn’t let him.

“you look like shit,” you blurted, and bolted for the door.

work? that was its own hell. you were practically shoving scent blockers down your throat and drowning yourself in perfume. the idea of some sleazy customer catching even a whiff of your pre-heat state? immediate homicide. you were already sensitive to touch, jumpy at loud noises, constantly fidgeting with your ears. and your tail? it refused to cooperate. kept twitching and fluffing up in defense like a pissed-off little pompom.

your manager, utahime—a black cat hybrid—shot you a sympathetic look once as you popped in yet another blocker.

you’d only asked for one week off, even though she said you could take more. but you didn’t want to lose any more pay. you were already living off rice and frozen dumplings.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

when you get home, the apartment’s quiet. satoru’s gone—doing god knows what. you’ve never even asked what he does for work. something late at night that pays him enough to splurge on imported wagyu and fancy sake. whatever.

not really hungry, you decide to knock out some laundry instead.

you gather your basket and head for the door, only to curse under your breath when you remember—satoru still hasn’t made you a copy of the building laundry room key. you huff, drop the basket by the door, and head into his room to look for it.

the second you open the door, your ears flatten.

his scent hits you like a freight train—heavy, rich, and pure. the whole apartment always smells like him a little, but this? this is different. there’s nothing mixed in. just him. raw and undiluted. a snow-leopard hybrid’s natural musk, tinged with power and danger, makes your instincts go haywire.

you take shallow breaths and tiptoe to his desk, trying not to drown in it. eyes scanning for keys. focus, dammit.

but then—your gaze catches on the pile of laundry near his dresser.

it’s stronger there. heavier. muskier.

your ears twitch. your nose flares. your thighs press together.

you whimper, barely.

you stand there, locked in place, chewing your lip—and before your brain can yell bad idea, your hand darts out and snatches up a plain white tee.

you bury your face in it. inhale deeply. moan, just barely.

his cologne. his sweat. his natural scent. it floods you. fills your lungs. swirls in your brain like smoke. your tail curls in tight, and your ears tremble from the stimulation.

you don’t know how long you stand there, just breathing him in—until a sudden, humiliating warmth drips down your inner thigh, seeping through your shorts.

you gasp. ears shoot upright. eyes go wide.

fuck.

you yank yourself away from the shirt like it burned you, grab the keys from his desk, and bolt—nearly faceplanting as you stumble out of the room, body aching and slick and mortified.

he comes home around 1 a.m., kicking the door shut quietly behind him. he blinks at your laundry basket still by the door, confused. you’re usually a laundry-and-bed-by-midnight type.

then he walks into his room.

stops.

sniffs.

and freezes.

you were in here. he knows that scent. knows how it smells when it’s just barely starting to shift toward heat. knows it’s you. his tail swishes once—slow and deliberate.

you’re still awake. you’ve been staying up until nearly 3 a.m. lately. he knocks on your door twice.

“you alright?”

no answer.

he cracks it open and peeks in.

you’re sitting on your bed, dazed, holding something white. he moves closer to sit next to you.

“…that’s my shirt,” he says softly.

you don’t respond at first. then your lips move on their own.

“i took it.”

satoru raises a brow, waiting for more. you don’t give it. so he asks gently,

“uh huh. can i know why? i mean—i don’t mind, but… why?”

you finally look at him. and he nearly chokes.

you look wrecked. flushed. pupils blown wide. ears drooping low and twitching. mouth parted like you forgot how to speak.

“i don’t know…” you whisper.

satoru’s throat works hard. his snow-leopard tail flicks once. fuck.

“y/n… did your heat start already?”

you shake your head no.

“no. but… i’m close. really close.”

silence.

he can hear your heartbeat hammering through the room. your scent is getting sweeter. thicker.

he stands abruptly, nervous laugh spilling out as he runs a hand through his hair. his ears keep twitching like he’s trying to shake off a very dangerous idea.

“okay. i’m gonna go to nanami’s. like, now. doubt he’ll be thrilled about me showing up in the middle of the night, but—oh well.”

as he turns to flee, your hand shoots out and grabs his.

he jolts. like you’ve burned him.

you try to speak. but your voice doesn’t come. only a whisper of breath.

“i—…”

he stares at you, jaw tight, terrified of what he might do if he lets his guard drop. his tail lashes once behind him—his whole body tense and alert.

then, after a beat, he gently brushes his thumb over your hand.

“you can keep that,” he murmurs. “and… you can go to my room.”

your head snaps up.

“if you need,” he adds, voice strained, refusing to meet your eyes.

and then he’s gone.

you’re left in your room, sweaty and dizzy and clutching his shirt. your ears droop as your body shudders.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

you don’t sleep.

you can’t.

you try. curling up under your own covers, burying your face into the shirt you stole—his shirt. it still smells like him. not quite as strong now, but enough to soothe your instincts just a little. your tail stops twitching. your breathing slows.

but then… it starts again.

the throbbing low in your belly. the ache crawling under your skin. your inner thighs are sticky again, your body pulsing like it’s warming up for something devastating.

you flip your pillow over, trying to find a cool spot. tug the blankets off. press your palms to your burning cheeks.

nothing helps.

you’re not in heat yet—but you can feel it coming, like a wave swelling just offshore. building. creeping up.

it’s too much. you’re too aware of your body. your scent. the way your ears droop and flick. the way your tail can’t stay still. the way your thighs keep clenching.

you’ve done this before. you should be used to it by now. should be able to handle it like a normal person.

but this time is different.

this time, there’s a scent curled up in your lungs. him. satoru.

snow leopard hybrid. apex predator. the very last person your poor bunny brain should be obsessed with right now.

and yet…

your eyes flick toward your bedroom door.

“just five minutes,” you whisper, already lying to yourself.

you tiptoe down the hall. quiet. hesitant. every nerve buzzing.

his door creaks open, and the scent hits you all over again—warm and deep and dizzying. your knees go weak. you step inside anyway.

his bed is massive. big enough for two people and then some. the blankets are a mess. pillows everywhere. the soft hum of his scent makes your mouth water. you don't even try to fight it anymore.

you climb in.

carefully.

slowly.

just to lay down. just for a moment. that’s all.

the sheets are warm. heavy. safe.

you curl up on his side of the bed, bury your face into his pillow, and breathe. a soft sound escapes your throat—half-sigh, half-whimper. your body starts to relax.

and for a few minutes… it works.

the ache dulls. your nerves settle.

you finally close your eyes.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

you don’t know how long you’re out.

but you know exactly what wakes you.

it hits like a truck.

a white-hot bolt of pain-pleasure straight through your spine, knocking the wind from your lungs. you jerk upright with a gasp, clutching the sheets, heart hammering.

your ears snap up. your tiny tail—short, soft, and fluffy —twitches hard against the sheets, like your body’s trying to work out the overwhelming pressure building inside you..

your body is on fire.

there’s no gentle lead-up this time. no warning. your heat crashes into you full-force, primal and unrelenting. you feel soaked—panties clinging to you like wet fabric, your thighs trembling. everything hurts. you’re throbbing. aching.

your nipples are stiff, sensitive against your tank top. your skin feels too tight. you’re panting like you just ran a marathon.

“no no no—fuck—”

you press your legs together, trying to soothe it, trying to breathe, but that just makes it worse. the pressure between your legs flares white-hot. your hips twitch. your cunt pulses helplessly, slick drooling onto satoru’s bedsheets.

his bed. his scent.

your body wants him. no—it needs him. desperately. mindlessly.

you bury your face in his pillow and sob.

tears bead in your lashes as your hips roll against the mattress—your body chasing friction all on its own. you’re too far gone. there’s no turning this off. you can’t wait this out anymore. you’re a mess of slick and sweat and want.

“satoru,” you whimper, voice cracking. “need—fuck, i need…”

you clench the sheets in your fists, nose still buried in his scent, body wracked with wave after wave of need.

you know you should get up. call someone. do something responsible.

but all you can think about is how warm this bed is.

how big it is.

how easy it would be for him to pin you here and take you apart.

your plush little tail twitches again. your ears press flat against your head. you're mewling now, gasping into his pillow like it’s the only thing keeping you sane.

“please…”

the word slips out before you can stop it.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

a/n: *rubs hands together very very evily*

[satorusugurugurl]

jjk men taking care of u in ur third trimester of pregnancy when things get too hard for reader???

JJK Men: When You’re Pregnant

Pairing: Nanami Kento, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Choso Kamo, Pregnant!AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: language, pregnancy themes, hormones, insecurities, fluffy!

A/N: This request was so much fun Nonnie! I love me some fluff! (I haven't had kids yet so I'm going off of movies and stuff I've read! 😅 the craving thought 100% mine from my bean I lost) 💚

Nanami Kento:

“Ugh!”

Kento heard the shout of frustration and looked up from his laptop. That sounded like his lovely wife. But it couldn't be because you were supposed to be in bed. With a soft sigh, Nanami followed the disgruntled groans from the nursery, where he found you pacing the room.

You were stunning, your baby bump straining against the fabric of your maternity shirt. A tiny onesie was resting on your bump, and you used it as a makeshift table to fold clothes. You were a stunning, glowing vision of beauty. But you should be resting in bed.

“Love, just what do you think you’re doing up?”

You jumped, dropping the onesie you held in your hands. “Ken!” you sighed, placing a hand on your lower back as the muscles strained. You scared me!” Your husband's eyes widened as you grabbed the crib, spreading your legs slightly to bend down.

“No! Darling, stop!” Nanami quickly rushed in, dropping down to pick up the onesie. You heard the doctor say you need to be resting. What are you even doing in here?”

“I need to prep the nursery.”

The keyword was needed. Not want or desired; need. And it was a word Nanami had come to know very well over the last eight and a half months. Just like you needed sauerkraut and how you needed tart frozen yogurt at two in the morning. This was your hormones and maternal instincts.

“Ah, you're nesting again.”

The nesting started simple: when you were making the nursery, building the crib, and preparing for your daughter's arrival. Not that you were so close; it seemed you were nursing again, even more now. Glancing around the room, Nanami took in the small load of fresh, dried baby clothes he had planned on folding before finding the diapers and wipes on the changing table.

“She’s going to be here soon. I know it, so I need to hurry up and get ready, " you said, feeling out of breath, which is standard these days.

Nanami could see the exhaustion on your face. He said nothing as he gently took your hand and led you to the rocking chair, helping you sit. You have a breath as you ease into it, watching your husband kneel next to you.

“Love, I understand you have this primal need to nest, but you also need to rest, and that’s the doctor's order.”

“But there’s still so much to do.”

His gentle hand reached out, copying your cheek. “And I’m here to help you. I helped make our darling girl, so I fully intend to help you with everything else.” His tongue gently caresses your cheek, sending a swarm of butterflies fluttering to life in your stomach.

“Kento.” You whisper as big tears, dreaming down their cheeks, followed by a hiccup. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Now tell me what I can do to help.”

“I want to put all the clothes in the dresser and stock the changing table.”

Nanami wasted no time in precisely what you asked, and once that was done, he looked over his shoulder at you. “What else?”

“I wanted to clean and organize the living room.” Nanami headed to the living room, leaving you with tiny socks. Thirty minutes passed before Nanami came back into the nursery.

“All clean out there; what’s next, Love?”

For the next two hours, your husband helped you with your motherly instinct nest., no matter how minimal or massive the task was, from cleaning the bathrooms to opening all the baby bottles. Nanami never complained or looked like you were asking too much from him. He was so helpful that you felt yourself relax more until you sank back into the bed with a smile, relaxing with the pillows.

Nanami fluffed the pillows for you and covered you with a blanket. His smile was so gentle, and his eyes slowly trailed to your stomach. Seeing him smile so fondly melted your heart.

“Come here.” You tugged on his shirt, padding the spot next to you. Without asking why, your husband kicked off his slippers and hopped in bed beside you. “Thank you for all your hard work today; you put all my nerves at ease.” Gently took his hands and placed them on your baby bump. “The two of us appreciate everything you’ve done.”

There was a furnace in your husband’s eyes as he rubbed your tummy gently before leaning down, pressing a kiss between his hands. “I would do anything and everything for my girls.” Because I love them both very much. Much more than words and actions can describe.” You were about to start crying when you hissed out a wince as your daughter kicked your husband.

“I think that was her telling you she loves you too.” You whispered, running your fingers through his soft blonde hair.

“I love her too.” Honey, brown eyes met yours. “And I love you.”

“I love you too, Kento.” That evening, you lay in bed, the house cleaned to perfection, as you and Kento lovingly waited for your darling little girl to arrive.

Gojo Satoru:

“Damn.” You cursed as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You ran your hands down the white and blue floral print maternity dress you wore. People talked a lot about the first and the second trimester: the morning sickness, the cravings, the growing baby bump. But the third trimester had you looking at yourself in a different light. Your body had changed so much while you carried your son; sometimes, you barely recognized yourself, and it did not often make you feel like staying in. “Toru— do we have to go out?”

Your husband suddenly stood by your side, hand held in front of him, and eyed you up and down. “Why? Do you feel alright? Dizzy? Contractions?” You couldn’t see his eyes behind his dark sunglasses, but he was eyeing you as if you were going to shatter. “Do I need to call the doctor?”

“No, no, no, okay, baby.” Relief tag at his mouth as he pushed his sunglasses up to rest on his head.

“Oh good, but why are you asking if we must go out? Do you not feel like going out on the date?”

Going on a weekly date has been recommended by your OB/GYN. She pretty much told you to have as much fun as you could for the next nine months because when your little boy came around, alone would be a thing that was scarce for the first few months. So, of course, you made it a point to go out and do something every Saturday morning. Your little dates were so much fun; you’d have breakfast, shop, and maybe watch a movie. But those fun little dates were beginning to make you feel more like a hassle, especially now that you were nine months pregnant and felt like the size of the house.

Every time you leave the house, the hospital bag must be loaded with you. It took you forever to put on your shoes, and every time your son decided to play kickball with your bladder, you were waddling off to the nearest restroom. Saturday morning dates were less fun, and you felt like they were more of a chore for your husband.

“I want to go, but—” you said out loud, your hands rubbing your baby bump. “I’m having a hard time putting on my shoes.”

“Oh, well, that’s a simple fix!” Your boyfriend has led you to the kitchen, where he pulled out a chair padding the cushion. “Mi, you love cheesy, my Cinderella.” He lifted your sandals, slowly slipping one on before he turned your other foot and slipped the other shoe on. Now we head to our carriage and find the finest breakfast restaurant in Tokyo.”

And you weren’t sure what it was. It could’ve been him calling you his Cinderella, or the fact your shoes were fitting a little too tight nowadays, or maybe it was the fact he was taking you to breakfast, which was something you had been craving all day yesterday. Or it could just be the damn hormones. Satoru blinked, looking up at you, and you didn’t bother to answer his question, and when he met your eyes, he was a mess with a blubbery, teary face.

“Baby? Oh sweetie, what’s wrong?” His concern only made you cry harder. “Sweetheart!”

You wiped your eyes, but no matter how hard you tried to stop, the tears ran down your flushed cheeks. “I—” hic, “I’m sorry—I just feel bad!” The chair beside you scraped against the floor, and when you could look through blurry eyes, you found Satoru sitting right in front of you, gently holding your hands. “I’m not a burden anymore. Always needing more time, I slow down is just, ugh, I’m sorry!” Satoru sat back, nose wrinkling at your words.

“Baby, what are you talking about? You’re not a burden.”

“I-I take too long to walk. You have to put my shoes on, and I constantly have to pee!”

“Sweetpea! Honey, I don’t care if I have to put your shoes on, and I’ll wait for you as long as you need me to. Plus, I hold your bags when you go to the bathroom. I don’t mind doing all those things and one million more because you’re carrying our child. You’ve been through so much: the cravings, hormones, and changes to your body. You truly are incredible.”

Satoru held his breath, watching as tears streamed down your pretty cheeks. “You don’t mind waiting for me? Even though I look like a walking house?”

“Okay, no.” Your husband’s hands flew up, copying both sides of your face. “You are not the size of the house. You’re beautiful, and I love your body. I’m not sure what kind of guy cares about shit like that. But I would love you no matter what. Whether you gain or lose weight, I love you for you.” His thumbs brushed away your tears. “You might not see it, but you are stunning.”

You sniffed, relaxing, leading into his touch. “Really?” Hesitantly, the tears finally stopped.

“Yes! My goddess, you are a radiant vision, sunshine, and human form. And you are a perfect vision.” Satoru’s continue to caress your flushed cheeks. “If I’m being honest, I love our dates on Saturday mornings because I get to be seen next to a beautiful woman like you.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I think you’re confused because I feel like that with you.”

“Is that so?” Smiling as he dropped his hands to your tummy, caressing it lovingly. “Looks like our kid locked out. He’s got two hot parents.” The teasing in his eyes faded. “And he’s going to have the best mommy in the world.”

“And the best, Daddy, " you added, placing your hands on top of his.

“And he’ll be loved immensely.” Satoru pressed against your tummy before kissing your hands. “So what do you want to do, sweetheart? Do you want to go out, or would you prefer to stay in?”

“Well, seeing as you went through the trouble of putting my shoes on for me, let’s go on our date.”

Satoru fist pumps the air before placing his hand on your lower back to help steady you. “Come on, sweetie. I’ll take you to eat wherever you want.” You enter your fingers as you slowly head out of the house towards the car.

“Seeing that it’s your son, he wants French toast.”

“Yep, there’s no denying he’s mine!” Proudly announced as he squeezed your hand tightly.

Geto Suguru:

“Ow, ow, ow!” You paste around the kitchen, hands on your hips, trying to focus on anything other than the ache in your back.

Upon hearing your cries of pain, your boyfriend is around the corner, slipping on the hardwood floor. “What?! Are you okay? Is she okay?” Suguru grabbed your waist, surveying you for any injuries.

“No, we’re both okay.” Suguru visibly relaxed at your words, dropping his head slightly as he tried to catch his breath and calm his racing heart.

“Then why were you saying ow?”

The muscles in your back, your boyfriends, they seized up, screaming in pain. “Nngh!” Your teeth together, grabbing Suguru’s wrist and squeezing as your back twitched and strained. “I-It’s just my back; our little bean isn’t so little anymore.” There was nothing but pure sympathy on your boyfriend’s face as he watched your face contort with pain.

“Oh baby,” he sighed slowly, stepping behind you. “Let me help you.”

You weren’t sure if a massage would be the best thing to do right now. Every nerve in your back was burning with red-hot pain. Laying down in bed didn’t help, and sitting on the couch made it even worse; walking around was the only thing that seemed to alleviate some of the pain.

The thoughts of his thumbs rubbing into the muscles driving you mad had you squirming out of his reach. But due to the nine-month pregnant belly, you were sporting, you weren’t able to move as fast as you had been before. Your attempted move away was futile as Suguru grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you back into his chest.

“Suguru, please don’t give me a massage right now. My back is killing me, and I feel like if you touch it, it’s going to make it worse.”

“Shh, I got you.”

You shut your eyes, waiting For the inevitable pain, as he trailed his hands down the side of your arms before sliding down over your tummy. His hands never ventured back up to your shoulders. Instead, they slid further down underneath the baby bump, resting there for a second. Realizing your back wasn’t in danger, you opened your eyes, glancing down at your tummy as dark strands of hair fell over your shoulder, hair that belonged to Suguru.

“What are—” Without giving you a chance to finish your words, Suguru gently lifted your baby bump slightly, allowing him to hold your daughter's weight, giving your back some much-needed rest. “Oooh~” the relief Washed over you like waves at the beach, “Oh, that feels so good.”

“Yeah, I’m so glad to hear that.” His thumbs brushed over a little sliver of skin as your shirt scrunched up over your tummy. “I saw this little trick online.”

You could feel the pressure being relieved from your muscles, back, and hips. Ten pounds lighter, you felt like you could finally relax with that weight your boyfriend was holding. With a happy sigh, you leaned further against his back. It felt so good.

“You are so amazing. Carrying our baby, thank you.” Soft lips gently trailed over your cheek, running over your jawline as your boyfriend held your daughter's weight off your body. “I’m so thankful for everything you’re doing for us.”

“You're welcome.” You turned your head slightly, pressing a kiss against his lips. “Thank you for being so kind and patient with me.” Your daughter stretched out, leaving you wincing again.

“I just wish there was more I could do for you.”

His words left you feeling baffled. “Suguru, you’ve already done so much. You baby-proofed the house, you put together the crib, which was a nightmare.”

“At least it wasn’t from IKEA.”

“You also go out of your way to get me anything I crave. No matter how gross it is.”

“I don't know. Your last request for hotdogs and cold cream of mushroom soup nearly took me out.”

You moaned in delight at the mention of your late-night snack from a week ago. “It was so tasty! But the point is you do a lot for me, even now,” you whispered, motioning your head towards his hands. “This is everything I had been needing tonight.” Suguru fondly smiled at you, pressing another kiss against your cheek before he began rubbing circles over your stomach.

“This is all you need, Princess?”

“Mhmm~ you, the girls, and our baby.”

“You’re sure? You would let me know if there was anything else I could do for you, right?”

You nodded your head, inhaling the earthy, minty scent that belonged to the father of your child. “I would, but I’m happily content with right here and now.” Suguru felt his smile widen as he gently began easing your bump down so he could properly turn you around to kiss you. But that was his first mistake. A rumbling growl sounded from you, and your eyes shot up toward him in the dark, warning rage.

“Don't you even think about moving your hands.”

“Oh,” He seized up at the apparent anger in your voice. “Right, sorry, baby.” As he continued to hold the baby bump up for you, he could feel the rage leaving your body as he relaxed back against him. Suguru felt like he wasn’t doing enough, but he could tell by the gentle smile that graced your pretty face that he was doing everything he needed for you at that moment. And he didn’t care how he would be standing in the kitchen holding the weight up for you as long as you both were together and happy to do whatever you needed.

Choso Kamo:

Your husband had gone missing, and you weren’t sure where he ran off. One second, he told you that he was heading outside to meet his brother for something, and the next second had turned into two, which turned into an hour, and you were beginning to wonder where exactly he was or what he had gotten himself into. Usually, this sort of thing wouldn’t have bothered you; he was always running off to do stuff with his brothers. But your little one, due any day now, was feeling restless.

They were kicking and punching you in the ribs and bladder, and the typical tricks you use to soothe the little to relax are turning out to be useless. The only thing that seemed to calm them down nowadays was Choso’s voice. He did not even need to do much; as long as he was in the vicinity for your baby to hear, they relaxed almost instantly.

You hated to interrupt his bonding time with his brother, but at the same time, he would like to sit on the couch without feeling the urge to pee, so you just went to the bathroom. The need to sleep and relax somehow fueled you to push yourself out of the recliner and begin waddling around the house in search of Choso or Yuuji.

The last time you saw them, they were heading out to the garage to talk about anything and everything, from Yuuji’s schooling to everything that still needed to be done for the baby's arrival. But all of that can wait for now; right now, you need the comfort of his voice.

Heading out to the garage side, rubbing your tummy as your precious baby shifted again, pulling out a sound of discomfort from you. You couldn’t wait for them to be born so you could hold them, and you were eager for them to stop playing Twister with the inside of your uterus. Just a couple of weeks were left, but Choso was your secret weapon in the meantime.

“Cho?” you asked, looking around the garage. “Babe?”

The car was in the driveway. Both doors to the backseat were left open. For a minute, you felt your heart rate spike because you didn’t find Choso nearby, but before you could panic over what may have happened, a flash of pink hair popped out from the car.

“I don’t think that’s right, Choso.”

“I know, it's just—” Your fiancé got out of the car, scratching the back of his head in apparent annoyance. “How do people do this?”

“I’m as clueless as you are. Maybe I should call Megumi; he’s smart. I bet he could figure it out.”

Choso gently slammed his head repeatedly against the side of the car with a sigh. “This should not be this hard.” You stood off to the side out of sight, and your restless son started to set up the sound of his father’s voice. “We need to figure this out, Yuuji.”

“Why don't we just ask Sis?” Yuuji question referring to you. “She has friends with babies, but doesn’t she have nieces and nephews, too? She would probably know how to put in a car seat.“

Oh, so that’s what they were doing out here. Poor boys had probably been struggling to put it in this whole time. Well, luckily for them, you know how to put in a car seat.

Before you could begin treading down the driveway to help them, Choso shot up, looking at his little brother from across the car. Dark strands of hair bounced as he shook his head. “No, we’re going to figure this out.” you and Yuuji eyed Choso with confused looks.

“Why not Cho?”

“Because she needs all the rest she can get. She hasn’t been sleeping well, but I can do this. I want her to rest. I want to help out with things like this. It’s at least I can do.” the fondest smile plastered his mouth. “Since she’s carrying our baby.”

“Oh, Choso,” you whispered, fighting my tears. He’s been so sweet and attentive during the pregnancy, but he’s been putting in all the effort for the last few weeks. He was cooking, cleaning, taking care of you, packing the hospital bag himself, and, on top of all that, cooking all the meals, making sure he was tending to everything for you. Not a day passed that you didn’t receive a foot or back massage. Was it even possible to fall deeper in love with a man you would spend the rest of your life with?

Yes, it was.

Although the tears were blurring your vision, you could see the understanding on the younger boy's face. “I guess that makes sense.” Yuuji stretched his arms above his head. “But can we please call Megumi?” your fiancé nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, that's fine.”

Seeing that they both had it under control, you quietly snuck back into the house and relaxed on the couch. Another thirty minutes passed before Choso came back inside. He had a wide smile on his face as he sat down on the couch next to you, pressing a kiss against your lips before kissing your tummy.

“Hey, you.”

“Hi,” Choso rested his head on your stomach, his eyes shutting as he felt your son move. “We got the car seat set up. So we’ll be all set for when the day comes.”

Your fingers toyed with his hair, brushing his dark strands back. “Yeah? Thanks for doing that; it wasn't too difficult, was it?” He turned his head slightly to look up at your face.

“Nope!”

“Good,” you looked back towards the garage, “did Yuuji leave?”

“He went to pick us dinner with Megumi; they should be back soon.”

A comfortable silence grew between you as you ran your hands further down his back. “Cho, thank you for taking such good care of us. And thanks for all your hard work.” Choso’s arms snaked around you, holding you as he shook his head.

“I should be the one thanking you.”

“Me?”

“For making me the happiest man in the world, for making me a father, for being my future wife.” His eyes were so warm and full of adoration, “You complete me. So yes, thank you, I love you.”

You couldn't help but grin as you watched him close his eyes. ”I love you too, Choso; we both do.” His smile was contagious as you found yourself following his lead, drifting off to sleep. It was the kind of sleep that was hard and peaceful because you knew you and your son were safe with Choso.

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