Tumgik
#satoru gojo x you
faexoxoxoxo · 1 day
Text
ᴵ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵐⁱⁿᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃᵐⁿ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ...
Tumblr media
SUMMARY: when people ask how you met satoru, your response would be “at a club,” and while he'd smile and nod along in agreement, there was much more to the story…
PAIRING: bartender! gojo satoru x actress! reader
TW: 18+, masturbation, obsessive satoru...
A/N: part of my bartender gojo series but can be read as a stand alone, mostly satoru being a lil creepy shit... I mean fanboy!
Tumblr media
It all started with a magazine...
During his proud bachelor days, Satoru had been a faithful subscriber to various porn sites and magazines. It wasn't that he had any problems with finding women to satisfy his needs; on the contrary, women at the club were obsessed with him.
One charming grin paired with a wink was enough to get anyone flushed and ready to drop their panties for Gojo Satoru. It was all just way too easy, and with the lack of challenge, eventually he lost interest in hooking ups.
Now, this particular magazine was one of his all-time favorites, so imagine the dismay when instead of receiving the usual erotic magazine, he found the latest issue of Vogue delivered to his doorsteps. A simple error on the mailman's part, and further proof to Satoru, that one simply couldn't find good service anymore.
+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° .
Sighing with disdain, Satoru flipped through the pages. “Boring, boring, boring…” He muttered, preparing to dump the magazine in the trash. With his flawless skin and exceptional looks, what did he need this for!?
Just as he was about to toss it away, a particular image caught his eye - it was a picture of you.
Nothing much about the ad was special, except for you. Who'd been featured prominently, wearing a two-piece swimsuit and, holding up a bottle of sunscreen, with a charming smile that screamed, “Buy this.” clever sales tactic, using a pretty girl like you to promote products, and god, you were pretty. 
Satoru could feel his heartbeat pick up as he studied your face; the cheery red lipstick enhanced your features, he was hooked, and the growing tent in his pants further served as evidence of just how much.
Turns out Vogue wasn't so boring after all…
“Hmmm...” he moaned softly, sliding his hands down his sweatpants to massage his growing hard on, his eyes fixated on the outline of your curves, the way the blue bikini clung onto your tits, and how the pantie strings were tied in a cute little ribbon. It'd be so easy for him to rip the flimsy fabric off you...
“Fuck.” Satoru groans, squeezing the tip of his pre-dripping cockhole. He wasn't going to last long tonight...
+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° .
Getting you out of his brain proved to be impossible. Your face was always there in the back of his mind during whatever mundane tasks he'd been doing. In the shower, eating breakfast, at work, heck, even his dreams weren't safe, you'd wormed your way in them with the same kissable lips and sweet smile; it was like he was back to being a teenager boy with a puppy crush.
Two weeks after failing to distract himself, his resistance cracked, and he looked up your name online.
You were an actress...
That was the first thing Satoru learned. Not yet a household name, but a rising star nonetheless, with a decent amount of people seeming to enjoyed your works.
The second thing he found after obsessively scrolling through your social media accounts was that you had a boyfriend, Naoya Zenin. Now that was a name Satoru was familiar with—the regular VIP asshole at one of his clubs.
Lips twisting into a disgruntled frown, he stares at a recently posted picture of you with Naoya. What did you even see in this punk? He was an egoistical little shit...
+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° .
The following evening, Satoru sat down to watch the very first movie you had a leading role in, a typical light hearted rom-com. in it you'd played the role of a clumsy assistant, oblivious to the fact that your boss had a crush on you.
Dispute the predictable plot, Satoru couldn't bring himself to turn it off; his eyes locked onto your every expression as it shifted from serious to flustered during the romantic scenes. You were good Satoru admired despite not having much experience then, you obviously had versatility.
As the movie's plot advanced, so did the romance; simple handholding turned into kissing and making out...
Every time the camera zoomed in on you and your costar, Satoru gritted his teeth, a bitter taste raised to the back of his mouth, watching as you moaned into another man's lips. It was absurd, irrational, and he didn't even know you, so where was this anger coming from!? Why did he wish it was him on screan kissing you instead!? Why did his want to punch the fucker for touching you!?
+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° .
Safe to say, Satoru never watched any more of your works in the romantic genre again; his heart couldn't handle seeing you with another man...
What he did watch were interviews; he'd spent hours getting through every single one from the time of your debut, memorizing all of your preferences, from your favorite color to how many kids you wanted to the most used brand of perfume, shampoo and lotion.
He even bought a batch of perfume for himself, spraying it on his pillows and sheets, and using the lotion as lube whenever he'd fucked his fists to your pictures.
Eventually He'd lost count of the nights he spent lazily stroking his aching cock and imagining it was your little hands, or pretty lips on him ... those fantasies always ended with his cum splattered on his abs and the sheets. Not that Satoru minded the mess; he just wished he could have you there with him instead, longing to know how it'd feel to stuff your tight holes full of his cum...
Soon enough, his phone's wallpaper changed from the blank blue to a picture of you from your photoshoot for Vogue; he even hung a few posters of you in his closet, a little shrine dedicated to his one and only.
+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° .
It took some time for Satoru's best friends to notice his twisted obsession with you.
Shoko was the first one to point out how unhealthy it was, “At this rate you'll end up becoming a stalker, and getting charged for harassment.” she'd stated after finding out about his little collection.
“Just fuck a couple of chicks and get over this one, buddy.” Suguru advised, not knowing of his blue-eyed friend's various failed attempts at doing just that.
Satoru had tried to fuck someone.
The girl was one of his regular clients, tall, slim, hot, and pretty confident. She'd flirted with him a couple of times, and he'd indulged in it, thinking, why not?
He took her to dinner and had a fancy hotel room picked out just for the occasion. But when he finally had her in bed, he couldn't go through with it. She felt wrong; her eyes weren't the same shade as yours, her laugh wasn't like yours, and the way she talked annoyed him, so he left.
He'd tried this a few more times with different women, but it always ended the same.
The closest he'd come to getting his dick wet was in his private room in the back of the club. She had the same hair color as yours, and Satoru thought if he'd pretend hard enough, she could be you.
But then he made the mistake of moaning out your name instead of Sasha, or was it Simona ? ... well, he didn't remember, but whoever she was had left him with a harsh reality check, and a red slap mark on his face.
So He stopped trying after that.
The next woman Satoru fucked would be you or no one else. Sure, you had a boyfriend; sure, you didn't know he existed, and sure, there was a chance you never would, but he was convinced, with enough money and time, you would find your way to him.
Until then, Satoru would spend his nights imagining what it'd be like if he could get a chance to show you just how perfect he was for you, and pretending like you were his all the damn time . . .
Tumblr media
✎⁠ I'm trying to get out of my writing slump so hopefully this was a good start (ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠) asks are open for feedback and ideas so feel free to send me thoughts <333
✎⁠ likes, reblogs, and comments are very appreciated ♡
✎ the dividers are from @chachachannah header is from @chromesaine on pinterest
Tumblr media
391 notes · View notes
gojokitkat-5 · 2 days
Text
When GOJO SATORU sets his mind to eating a woman out, he proves to be a master of female pleasure...
🔞 WARNING! NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS 🔞
Tumblr media
He would usually start by wrapping one powerful arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, while his other hand firmly grips your upper leg near the knee. Using his considerable strength, he tilts your pelvis towards him, effectively opening you up wider. Given access to your juicy pussy, he wastes no time diving in, utilizing his long tongue to gently lick the outer lips. Soon his hands move down and using his thumbs, he parts your folds, exposing your swollen clit.
"You're so turned on for me, aren't you?" Gojo teasingly commented with a devilish grin stretching across his face.
Your boyfriend continues where he left off and teases your sensitive nub with flicks of his tongue before circling it expertly, applying just enough pressure to draw forth delicious sounds of arousal from you. Meanwhile, his pointer finger dives deep inside your tight hole, finding your G-spot and massaging it in sync with his actions on your clit. Determined to bring you to your breaking point, Gojo adds a second finger, curling them both to reach deeper inside you. As his tongue batters your clitoris with quick, sharp flicks, he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of you with increasing speed and force. The combined sensations are so overwhelming that your inner walls clench around his digits.
"Oh, Toru," you cry out. "I can't handle anymore, please, no more!" But your plea rings hollow in the air as he redoubles his efforts, determined to bring you crashing wave after wave till you’re totally spent.
Your body quakes underneath him, the pleasure building to dangerous levels. Each time you get close to climaxing, Gojo Satoru withdraws his fingers and plunges them back in, maintaining a brutal pace that leaves you gasping for air. Despite enjoying the intensity of his ministrations, you instinctively close your legs when you feel like you cannot handle any more pleasure. Whenever you try to close your legs, he responds by harshly pushing them apart. His hands grip your thighs tightly, digging his fingers into your flesh.
“I decide when it’s time to let you go so learn to obey when I tell you to keep these beautiful legs open.”
Gojo’s words resonate through the room, filling it with an unspoken expectation of obedience. Now with his hands both busy holding your legs apart, he launches into a fierce assault on your drooling entrance with his tongue. He hums appreciatively as you writhe beneath him, savoring the sweet taste of your juices. His cock grows harder behind his pants when your powerful scent invades his nostrils, a mix of innocence and arousal unique to you.
With powerful thrusts, he drives his tongue into your hole, reaching deep to stimulate your inner walls. His teeth scrape against your sensitive skin, adding a hint of pain to the mix as he speeds up, thrusting harder and faster. Your juices coat his tongue, fueling his desire even more as he takes control of your body, leaving you moaning loudly and squirming beneath him.
“Aaahh~ Oh yeah, fuck yeah! Your tongue feels so good! Yes, right there, hit that spot again! More please, oh fuck! Mmmph! Harder, please! I'm so close! Uhnnngghhhh!... Oh god, I'm going to cum! Keep going! Don’t stop! Yes, right there! F-FUCK!”
As your boyfriend gazes at you with his Sapphire blue eyes, a hint of amusement crosses his features whenever you squirm or cry out in pleasure. It feeds into his ego, knowing that he's capable of reducing such a strong, independent woman to quivering rubble beneath him. Gojo lets out a deep guttural groan when he feels your walls begin to spasm, squeezing his tongue intensely. Your initial reaction is shock followed closely by extreme ecstasy. You let out a long, loud moan as waves of climax washed over you.
You arch your back, your hands tangled in his hair as you writhe beneath Gojo Satoru’s expert tongue: your entire body tenses, every muscle straining. The waves of pleasure crash over you like never before, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You’re utterly spent, limp and trembling under his attentions. Your inner walls are milking while his tongue is still invading greedily after he just sent you into paroxysms of delight you never knew were possible.
"Give me that tight hole, baby girl! I need to fill it up with my cock!" Gojo Satoru grins wickedly. Without waiting for a reply, he rolls you onto your stomach, placing your hands against the mattress for support. Positioning himself behind you, he grips your hips firmly before thrusting deeply into your well-used passage.
190 notes · View notes
vlrspace · 2 days
Text
there was never a time where the atmosphere was this thick with tension, gojo thinks, never with you at least.
his slender fingers dug tightly into the leather covered wheel, white brows meeting in the middle of his forehead as his cerulean eyes focus on the road ahead. how comical, of course it’s raining outside, accompanied with purple and white strikes appearing across the sky.
gojo gazes at you from the corner of his eyes, he’s desperately trying to ignore the churn of his heart at the sight of you. soft arms wrapped around your frame, fully embracing yourself and seeking comfort in a pair of arms that aren’t his. streaks of maskara coating the red apples of your cheeks, as you lean your head against the window.
he can’t decide what’s worse; the fact that you haven’t even spoke, let alone look at him ever since you two left or that he can’t find anyone else to blame, but himself.
truly, he hadn’t known about the invitation of his ex girlfriend by his parents. a vicious move on their end, just to taunt you with the thought that gojo could always do better than you.
his ex, who is a true golden girl, the definition of a perfect woman every parent desire their children to be with. however, she was far from the ideal partner, with her cunning and self absorbed nature. sure, she’s beautiful and comes from a wealthy family, like gojo, but she only ever cared about putting up a good show for the world. everything with her were non existent, unlike with you.
gojo is aware of how, unfortunately, his parents aren’t particularly fond of you and frankly, he doesn’t care.
the familiar silhouette of your home is visible in the distance and the white haired male tries to calm down his thoughts, to centralise them about making you stay with him. gojo thinks that it’s ridiculous how tied to you he really feels, how dependent he is on you and in such short time as well. six months were enough to make him obsessed with you, it’s utterly pathetic.
the buzzing of the engine comes to a stop and you get yourself ready to exit the car, but gojo locks the car before you even could reach the handle. the action makes you turn towards him, confused and nervous as you wait for him to talk.
“i’m so sorry” his sentence comes out shaky and breathless, his body wholly facing you, blue gaze never wavering away from yours. “i’m so fucking sorry” his shoulders are shaking, pools of tears leaking from the corner of his eyes.
with quiet sobs, he reaches for you, his hands carefully placing themselves on your waist, softly cradling you closer to him. the action makes your eyes widen, you’ve never seen gojo so vulnerable before. he threw his tie on the backseat the second you two entered the vehicle, along with his suit and his button up is halfway undone.
“you deserve so much better” his words are barely audible between the hiccups, his forehead gently pressing against yours as a hand comes up to wipe your tears away. “so much better than me”
gojo blames himself for the way his parents treated you at the dinner party, you realise, belittling you and throwing snarky remarks in front of everyone when his ex arrived. even though gojo stood up for you and got into an argument with his family, those words still hurt you.
“but i don’t ever want to let you go, you’re my everything. i didn’t know what home felt like till i met you, what love really was. i don’t have to pretend to be someone else when i’m with you and you make me feel whole” the desperation of his voice makes your heart break, you can feel his hold on you a little unsteady. “it’s you that i want, you make feel a better man and i love you so much it makes my heart hurt” he stutters out, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips, before pulling away from you.
“i don’t care what they think, i belong with you” your breath hitches in your throat as his words hit you with full force. not only that, but there is no hesitation in his voice and his face is full of seriousness.
“satoru..” you whisper out finally and reach for your seatbelt. swiftly unlocking it, you throw yourself at him, lips pressing against each other feverishly.
your hands curl around his neck, fingers disappearing in his white hair and you feel him wrap around your waist and move you into his lap. gojo’s tongue pushes into your mouth, salvaging every inch he touches. one of his hands cradles your cheek, thumb gently stroking your soft skin and you feel his other hand slowly moving you against him.
you’re the first one to pull away, just barely a few inches between you, gojo’s hips thrusting upwards to meet yours in the middle. both of your breaths are heavy and the atmosphere is now filled with a different type of tension. the sound of rain sounds distant, you can’t seem to care about the on going storm outside anymore. all you care about is gojo, the love of your life.
“i love you so much” your words are whispered against his lips as he leans up to capture yours in a kiss again.
if gojo wasn’t so occupied with you right now, he would laugh at his parents’ poor attempt to break you two apart. he knows his parent finally realised, how much you mean to him and the growing fear within them taken over.
satoru would do anything for you, even if it meant abandoning the great gojo empire just to be with you.
Tumblr media
@/vrlspace, 2024
212 notes · View notes
literaila · 3 days
Note
HEYYYY!! It's me again!!
I have two things to discuss today.
Firstly, have you seen those reels where Megumi reminds Gojo of Toji and he gets freaked out? So has this ever happened in the Gojo household? If yes, how dramatic does Satoru act?
Secondly, I have a request, It would absolutely make my day to see Satoru jealous. (Yes, I know we saw a it with Nanami, but can you blame a girl to want more?) Like if the reader got hit on, I am sure he'll pull something like he did to Megumi with Nobara and Yuji.
Thank you for reading this,
You are amazing and I love you.
(I'll do anything you ask me to.)
no doubt, for the first couple of months (two years) megumi lived with satoru, every time the boy woke up in the morning with his hair deflated, or walked in the room scratching his head, or sat on the couch, or went into the bathroom—satoru had to refrain a wince.
it’s not that the likeness was uncanny… but… well, the attitude was.
when megumi had on that evil smirk—usually when one of his many plots against satoru came to fathom—it was clear that the very man satoru had erased from existence had shared some of his more… admirable qualities with the boy.
sometimes it was the way megumi spoke. the tiny little inflections that satoru was probably making up, but were also definitely there. the little sigh when he asked the boy a question or the clearing of a throat when megumi was confused.
and the eyes.
megumi’s eyes were always cold, always hesitant, always moving around, constantly looking for some problem to focus on. and his glares, and his eyebrows, and uuugch.
sometimes satoru had to run into the bathroom just to cower himself away for a moment.
and if megumi happened to knock on the door, already scowling when satoru opened it a crack, really, the gasp that came next was unavoidable.
“what’s up with you?” megumi demands, shaking his head at the older, very immature man. “can you move?”
said man would open the door as little as possible as he squeezed by, trying and failing not to stare at the little boy—who has very dark hair, dark eyes, and dark intent specifically when it comes to satoru.
none of it goes unnoticed.
so if satoru is leaning over the counter, his eyes pleading with yours, you already know what it’s about.
(you’d learned about satoru’s weird superstition about two days into becoming his co-parent).
“no,” you say immediately, going back to making both of the children’s lunch.
“i didn’t say anything.”
“still no, satoru.”
“but, please,” he falls against the counter dramatically, wide blue (alien) eyes basically perfect spheres as he widens them. “just this once?”
“it’s a supply store.”
he shakes his head intently. “that’s not the issue.”
you give him a bland look, unamused with his stupid qualms, and put the lid on a container.
“he looks freaky,” satoru whispers, conspiring. “there’s something off.”
you look over to megumi who is sitting at the table, swinging his legs and chewing on some cut up ginger.
he looks as pleasant (frowning) and sweet (irritated) as always to you.
you raise a brow at satoru, choosing not to argue with him about this. god knows you do it enough.
“do you want me to cry?” satoru asks, pouting. “i have ptsd.”
you roll your eyes. “ever heard of exposure therapy?“
so satoru takes megumi to the store to get markers and papers for a school project, giving him questionable glances from beneath his glasses, and making weird comments under his breath about psychopaths and plastic surgery.
when they get home megumi is annoyed as ever, attempting to slam the door in satoru’s face before he can walk through.
you’re, of course, sitting with tsumiki at the table and watch as this interaction happens.
megumi stomps by and tells you, “please kick him out. he’s being weird again.”
and satoru just opens the door, red faced, finger pointing at the little boy, demanding: “see?”
so, yeah. satoru suffers with the memory of toji, and his biggest ideation (hurting the six-eyes user) comes to life in the form of a little boy who now lives in his home. just two rooms down the hall.
seriously, who really won that fight?
but as the months (years) go on, satoru learns to mostly ignore the resemblance between the two. sure, when megumi wears his hair differently or says anything in that rough, angry voice satoru gets a little freaked, but so what?
(if he has to go sit in his closet for a couple of minutes it’s just because he’s tired, okay? it has nothing to do with being afraid of a six year old or anything of the sort).
still, things slowly begin to change as megumi grows accustomed to satoru’s antics, and satoru becomes accustomed to being called out for them.
(you do it occasionally, but satoru knows you’re mostly joking. you’re nothing if not the benefactor of his schemes.
on the other hand, the only other person to ever seriously call him out about his ego was… suguru.
so. there’s that.)
and eventually, satoru doesn’t even notice if megumi is looking at him with devious intent. he’s well prepared and not afraid of some whiny little kid who can’t even reach the top shelf in the fridge.
(he hides behind you, usually.)
but even satoru can’t ignore the way megumi begins to change as he grows. literally, several inches by the time he’s eight.
and then there’s the way his eyes—his cold, evil eyes—change when he’s talking to tsumiki, or you. the way he softens when you’re trying to tell him something, or when he needs help. the tiny, affectionate grin that grows on his face when tsumiki is bouncing around, so full of energy that she can’t sit still.
satoru looks at him sometimes, and he doesn’t see the gifted sorcerer killer that the boy comes from, but a brother. a son that gets to be adored by the best person in the world (him you)
that is, of course, until megumi looks satoru’s way and the scowl is back, even harsher than before.
and then theres the learned attitudes, the things that you all shared—you, satoru, and the kids—just as a result of being together for so long.
isn’t there something about developing the traits of the people closest to you?
so, even though megumi is a photo copy of his father, satoru begins to see other things in the boy.
like the crinkles by his eyes, matching tsumiki’s.
or the way that his eyebrows go up when he’s trying not to smile, and the eventual twitch of his lip when he can’t help but laugh at something. satoru’s dreamed of that sight since he was seventeen and first set his eyes on you.
and then the eventual pout that megumi develops when he’s giving everyone a hard time. the pout that satoru practices in the mirror, making sure to save for only the most dire of occasions.
(also, satoru can’t help but think of megumi as the thing that keeps him… humble, in the face of everything. that question that continuously reminds satoru to keep growing, keep getting stronger, just so he can protect everything that matters.
he won’t admit it, but satoru knows that someone had to do it. someone had to be a replacement for the only other person who could ever compare to the strongest sorcerer.
and if suguru could meet megumi, satoru thinks, sometimes, when no one else is around to hear it, they would get along.
they have a lot in common, after all).
sure, megumi might have the same face, and same smirk as toji. he might as well be a literal clone of the man, just waiting to age into his skin.
but, satoru decides, one day a couple of years in, when there’s that innate protective feeling as he observes the boy—one that satoru never thought he had, much less be able to feel—maybe it’s more that toji resembles megumi, and not the other way around.
so satoru doesn’t flinch anymore because megumi’s face brings up memories he’d prefer to keep locked away—he flinches because megumi was waiting in the shadows.
just to scare him.
(secaond idea is here)
103 notes · View notes
satorruubaby · 1 day
Text
Tumblr media
Boyfriend!Satoru -who absolutely loves nuzzling his face on your chest, finding it more comforting than the softness of pillows on the bed. And that it not only gives him in a comforting warmth, but also because he can hear the gentle rhythm of your heartbeat, a sound that effortlessly drifts him to sleep. ( it also gives him a reason to slide his hand under your shirt to knead your breast )
Boyfriend!Satoru -who’s a stereotypical type of boyfriend that gives you a bunch of chocolates to ease your cramps when you’re on your period. And he just loves to cuddle your mood swings up on the bed while caressing your tummy. He’s just cute like that!
Boyfriend!Satoru -who makes you guys act like a PDA couple, he’s so clingy that he just can’t stop peppering you with kisses in front of your friends or hugging you from behind, he also likes holding hands with you! he doesn’t want to let go of it even once (clingy asf), swinging them back n forth then smooching the back of your hand while walking^^
Boyfriend!Satoru -who just cant take his hands off your ass, whenever he’s about to walk past you, he just slaps his opportunity behind you, leaving you with stinging cheeks, you argue with him about it “but baby, how can I resist that tempting sight??”
Boyfriend!Satoru -who tries to cook for you but ends up almost burning his apartment, …and it’s just mac and cheese… ( it’s the thought that counts okay!..) so he just orders food most of the time when you’re over his place <3
Tumblr media
Divider by: cafekitsune
106 notes · View notes
stellamancer · 2 days
Text
heel (gojo x reader???)
notes: um. idk what i should say. though i am not hating on feet people!! i am feet people!! if you want a non foot version of this feel free to read my other fic empty threat: also post spar with gojo shenanigans (even reused a line to connect the two lmao). part of the infinite loop! fic verse.
ageless blogs and minors do not interact
contains: gn!reader (no gendered language is used) gojo, feet (or what i like to call the steppy)??, dubcon?? (just in case), sexual implications, the use of the words dick and cock, no this isn't smut
wc: 812
Tumblr media
You wish you knew how you ended up in this situation.
It all started with you agreeing to spar with Gojo and thinking back now, that was your first mistake. Training with him has been odd lately, though you can’t quite put your finger on why, but one minute the two of you were engaged in hand to hand combat and now he’s laying on the floor with your foot pressed firmly against his crotch.
You don't even know how it got there in the first place.
“Well?” he drawls, that stupid amused tone of his grating on your nerves as he waits for your next move.
Idly, you think it’d be nice if you could end his family line here and now by stomping down hard enough but you know that that’s just wishful thinking on your part.
Should you just back off then? Fight’s over; you’ve won, but only because Gojo let you. Honestly speaking, that fact burns you, keeps your foot in place despite your attempts to rationalize it with the notion that a win’s a win. If he were a curse, you wouldn’t care about it being an easy win.
But he’s not; he’s Satoru Gojo and there’s something off about all this.
“Enjoying the view?” Gojo asks, yanking you from your thoughts. You stare down at him, scowling, but he remains unfazed as usual. “Not that I can blame you since—”
Your body reacts instantly in annoyance, your foot jerking down, digging into his dick and, for a split second, you think that it’s the surprise of it that causes him to cut off mid-sentence.
Except for the fact that he moans.
He fucking moans.
You’ve always thought, always known that Satoru Gojo is an absolute freak but you’d never really given much thought to it.
If you could, you’d keep it that way— the last thing you want is to be giving him more mental real estate than he deserves.
This is way too much for you right now.
“Ah, so you’re into that, are you?” Gojo’s voice sounds way too entertained, way too pleased for someone who just had someone grind their heel into his crotch. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”
Instinct bids you to crush his cock beneath your foot because normally guys find that to be pretty painful, but you have to remind yourself that Gojo is far from normal. He might actually be into it. So instead, you try to pull your foot away, to get away from him as fast as possible, but try as you might, your foot doesn’t move, as if it’s being held in place by some invisible force.
You’re mildly horrified when you realize that it is and this, you think, has the be the most disturbing use of the Limitless technique in all of history. The realization causes your self-control to slip and your foot presses even harder against him.
Gojo moans again, louder this time and you can’t ignore the slight pressure of what you fear to be a growing boner pushing against the sole of your shoe.
Nor can you ignore the electric prickle running up and down the length of your spine. What the heck? When it starts to settle in the pit of your stomach you realize what it is.
You need to get away from Gojo.
Now.
You yank your foot away from him and luckily, luckily, he releases his technique and you’re free of him. Like a frightened creature, you back away and refuse to look Gojo in the eye.
“...get up,” you say after a second of absolute silence. You hear the ruffle of clothes as he rises to his feet and slowly, carefully, you peer at him from the corner of your eye. “Don’t do that again.”
Gojo’s expression is unreadable. Figures. But who knows, maybe, for once in his life, he’ll actually listen.
Unfortunately, your hopes are dashed the moment he opens his mouth. “Why? You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”
You are horrified. What kind of face were you making? There’s no way. He has to be lying, saying what he wants for the sake of his own entertainment. You couldn't have been into it! You were mortified, horrified by all of it, but yet you still managed get tu—
Before that last thought can fully form itself in your mind you shake your head violently as if that will rid you of it.
Gojo laughs lighthearted and amused as always, “Okay, okay, if you say so.”
He doesn’t believe you, but he’s always been delusional. You glare at Gojo but he ignores it, and stretches.
“Let me know if you change your mind though,” he says casually. “I think it could be fun.”
“Yeah right,” you huff, ignoring how he laughs, ignoring how the tiniest voice in the back of your mind thinks that maybe, just maybe he’s got a point.
Satoru Gojo’s definitely a freak, but maybe you are too.
Tumblr media
is gojo actually into getting his dick stepped on or was he just fucking around and you were just finding out? you decide.
47 notes · View notes
salaimoi · 21 hours
Text
Tumblr media
el veneno mas honroso de mi corazón
wc: 444 ~ angst/fluff?
Tumblr media
Gojo Satoru was the worst type of love you ever experienced. He was the epitome of a detrimental inamorato—too perfect to even hate. It wasn't because he was a horrible lover—it was because he was the embodiment of love that seethed deep within your being, even when things broke off between the two of you. It was a mutual decision—a clean breakup. You loved each other deeply, but you sought distinct goals in life, causing the inevitable rupture between you.
He was a delectable candy, causing a sharp toothache each and every time you consumed it. Even if your dentist would scold you on multiple occasions, you’d always continue to ingest the godforsaken delicacy. You wanted to detest the treat and convince yourself that it was no good for you, but that never worked, did it?
Oh, how the heavens themselves were fully aware of how he made it impossible to hate him as a past lover. Were you doing something wrong or was he? You couldn’t hate him, you couldn’t bring yourself to loathe him. He was your ex after all, wasn’t that supposed to be the dynamic between the two of you?
Your entire existence continued to ache at the thought of him being an angel even after you’d parted ways. Was he an angel sent to teach you what unconditional love was, even if there was no label on you anymore? Or was he a demon sent to taunt you so you’d never move on from him?
Please just treat me horribly for one second so I can hate you and move on. I can’t forget you. I can’t hate you. Stop treating me with kindness. Stop smiling at me on the street. Stop giving me flowers on my birthday. Why the hell do you even remember my birthday?
Your body mirrored an inferno the day you found a bouquet of flowers that accursed day. A ravishing flower arrangement with a note from that blind-folded idiot welcome you home after a long day at work. He was supposed to make your life insufferable, not light it up by giving you small gifts.
Could he think about you for a second and lend a helping hand by giving you a single reason to hate him? Could he act like every other man on Earth for a fraction of a moment and become an asshole you’d hate so you could move on from him and his stupid, handsome face? Could he contribute to the whole ‘your ex is your worst enemy’ trope?
Honestly, you’d be lying if you said there was an ounce of hate for him in your body.
Tumblr media
m.list
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a/n: i really wanted to keep writing for this but when i paused to begin moving it over to tumblr i realized the wc reached 444 🥹 that was completely unintentional, so I left it as is <3
(yes I believe in angel numbers - kill me if it’s a crime)
Tumblr media
44 notes · View notes
hexpea · 3 days
Text
Tumblr media
Ch. 9 - Ignorant
As the afternoon droned on, Seiko managed to fall asleep. Their head fell back on the sofa and light snores escaped their throat as their mouth fell agape. You sighed to yourself, glad that they had found a moment of peace in whatever turmoil they were facing, at least you hoped. You took a moment to pull the blanket you shared up further onto them to keep them warm.
Just as you were about to settle back into the movie, your phone buzzed with a text message. You carefully reached for it, trying not to wake Seiko from their deep slumber. The text was from Ieiri.
Y/N! How dare you not tell me you were back in town? You chuckled at her scolding as you read her message. I had to find out from that blindfolded idiot!
You didn't hesitate to text her back. Sorry, Shoko, it was for personal stuff. I'm still in town for a while if you want to meet up.
Unacceptable. She wrote back. We're getting together tonight, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. I'll make sure everyone's there. She was clearly referencing going drinking, something that you used to do separately from Gojo in the early days of your marriage. You and Ieiri both enjoyed the atmosphere, mostly people watching -- maybe some dancing. It was the only time you saw her usually calm and cool self evaporate into someone completely new.
"Hey, Seiko..." you gently shook Seiko awake. Their eyes groggily unstuck themselves, "I just got a message from Shoko. She's an old friend," you filled in the gaps, "she wants me to go out with our old classmates tonight. What do you think?"
Seiko's eyes continued to blink in order to adjust, quickly rubbing them so that they'd adjust quicker. "Clubbing, huh? Sounds like fun," they answered, their voice still sleepy, "you should go, Y/N. I'll be fine here."
You bit your bottom lip out of excitement. "Are you sure? I don't want to leave you alone," you invited.
Seiko gave a reassuring smile. "I'll be more than fine. I've got some ideas for myself already. You go enjoy your night."
You flattened your expression out of a bit of concern. With the subtle changes happening within Seiko, what could they be up to? Ignorantly, you decided to trust them in favor of going out with Shoko and the rest of your old classmates. You felt that you owed Seiko some blind trust after what had conspired the night before, even against your best interest. With a mixture of excitement and a hint of reluctance, you texted Shoko that you'd join them for a night of partying.
You eagerly got ready for your night while Seiko remained on the sofa, flicking through channels with a somber look on their face. You tried your best to keep them from your mind, knowing they'd come to you with whatever was bothering them at the right time...hopefully. You stayed focused on getting dolled up, missing Ieiri and the others dearly. You were happy to have a night of relief after all of the stress.
Since you mostly stayed behind and didn't really go on any missions during your time at the school, you spent a majority of your time with Ieiri and enjoyed spending time with the other classmates in general -- Nanami and Ijichi. Geto and Haibara were honorable mentions. Unfortunately, Haibara had passed away during your third year and Geto, you had no idea what had become of him since he became a curse user those years ago.
After a while, your Uber had arrived and you went to head out, making sure to give Seiko the name of the club you were going to just in case something were to happen. You didn't know where the night could lead you, especially considering the night before. You wanted to be a little footloose so getting a ride and letting Seiko know where you were going was a good way to cover your ass.
You nearly jumped out of the car as soon as it pulled over to your destination. The club looked active, people coming and going with large, drunken smiles on their faces. A few people were smoking just outside the door and others were making out in the nearby alleyway. You could already hear the music blaring through the open doorway as you made your way past the bouncer. Needless to say, you were excited!
The bass thumped through the club's dance floor as colorful lights danced overhead. Your heart raced as you looked around for your friends. Ieiri, Nanami, and Ijichi were all there, not to mention that stupid, familiar crop of white hair. He wasn't supposed to be there. You thought you had seen the last of him, but there he was, schmoozing with a clearly irritated Nanami as he sipped on some whiskey at the bar. Ieiri wasn't too far off, all smiles while dancing with a stranger and a lit cigarette dangling from her lips. Ijichi was with Nanami, quietly drinking a cocktail of his own and minding his own business.
"Hi!" You shouted over the music with a big smile to Ieiri while walking toward the bar. She greeted you back and happily followed you to the bar where you ordered a drink, body still moving to the music even as you walked. You needed it in order to get through the night if Gojo was going to be there.
"Long time, no see!" Ieiri smiled, speaking loudly over the music. She gave you a small hug, using just one arm to do so as the bartender placed your drink in front of you. She smelled of smoke and alcohol. "How have you been, Y/N?!"
You wasted no time in sucking down the drink in front of you and ordering a second before even answering Ieiri's question. The bubbly liquid burned on its way down, immediately warming your stomach with its intoxicating juices. "Wonderful!" You answered loudly and rolled your eyes, a heavy hint of sarcasm in your voice.
"That's good to hear!" She replied, not getting it. It was clear that she was already very drunk, sarcasm was something that could easily slip right by her in such a state. She was certainly in rare form, you loved this version of Ieiri and couldn't blame her.
"What's Satoru doing here? I thought it'd just be us," you asked her, cutting right to the chase and leaning a bit closer to her ear so you wouldn't have to shout so much.
As you asked, she glanced over at him. He was grinning and still talking Nanami's ear off. Based on his demeanor, you could tell he chose to stay sober this night. Your dinner was obviously a one-off situation for him drinking-wise. "I didn't tell him you were coming," she replied, "totally forgot to mention it. I just mentioned we were going out and he invited himself!" She laughed, snorting at her mistake. You rolled your eyes as she left your side to continue dancing.
After your second drink, you went and joined her on the dance floor. You happily swayed and jumped to the music that nearly vibrated through your skull with volume, schmoozing with strangers as the alcohol made you much more loose and talkative. Your face had even begun to hurt with the permanently wide smile plastered on your drunkenly red expression. 
When you'd had enough of the dancing and were ready for another drink, you meandered back to the bar to order. Your heart rate was sky-high with adrenaline, happy hormones flowed through your veins. There was no place you'd rather be.
Nanami was next to you, finishing the last of his drink. Gojo had finally left him alone to dance with Shoko. The two of you hadn't yet spoke a word to one another. Nanami ordered another drink with you as you began to make light conversation. From your school days, if you weren't with Ieiri you enjoyed time with him -- a sweet but stoic man who took everything way too seriously. You appreciated that about him, he was someone you could trust without question.
"I thought you'd quit!" You smiled at him as he held a flat expression despite the whiskey. You were asking about his choice to return to sorcery. "What brought you back to us?" You phrased the question as if you hadn't left the life behind either.
Nanami used his head to motion behind him where Gojo was dancing. He was spinning Ieiri as the two held the biggest of smiles, truly carefree. "I did quit, but he still won't leave me alone," Nanami answered, speaking loudly and sitting up in order to get closer to your ear. 
"Oh!" You nodded as he pulled away. You almost didn't even need his answer, Gojo was the obvious answer.
He was about to continue your conversation, his eyes had briefly flickered to your engagement ring. The whole community knew about your divorce filing dilemma, word traveling quickly by word of mouth. He had opened his mouth to ask when the devil himself had suddenly come to steal you away.
You felt as Gojo's arm slinked around your waist to slightly turn your body toward him, his own slightly pressed to yours. Nanami watched with an irritated expression. Despite being sober, he clearly had no restraint with his enjoyment in teasing you. He was using your inebriation to his advantage, though he knew it'd be fruitless -- he just like to get you riled up.
"Y/N!" He greeted you with a wide grin, expression bright despite the black blindfold. "Baby!" He chuckled and leaned forward to kiss your cheek.
You leaned away from him and placed your left hand gently on his chest, turning your cheek. He still managed to press a lingering peck, your face immediately turning even more red than it was already. "Satoru," you scolded as his lips were pressed to your cheek, "we're not doing this here." You couldn't help but laugh, the alcohol messing with your inhibitions yet again.
"Oh come on," he pouted sarcastically with a crooked grin, "you can't blame me for trying. You're irresistible, you know." He leaned toward your hear, hiding his face from Nanami, and whispered in your ear.
You rolled your eyes, though a small part of you couldn't help but smile at his persistence. "Smooth, as always."
Ieiri, who was now sitting on the other side of you, chimed in. "What happened with the divorce, you two? Clearly you're getting close now, that's for sure." She couldn't help but ask, asking exactly what Nanami wanted to know.
You were about to answer when Gojo quickly piped up to answer for you. "Don't worry!" He smiled, speaking over the music as Nanami and Ieiri both looked toward you with intrigue. "I signed them, you just have to file them, right, Y/N?" You felt his grip on your waist slightly tighten with interest, your heart raced even harder as memories of the night prior flooded your mind. Temptation was setting in yet again. The usual restraint you had was being heavily tested and for some odd reason, you found yourself failing.
"Ye-" you were about to confirm, surprised that he had told the truth despite his lascivious hold on you. 
"But don't worry, we're still the best of friends," he tauntingly leaned toward you once more, interrupting your answer. 
Nanami narrowed his vision at the two of you in suspicion. He hadn't yet heard about your new engagement, so he had automatically assumed the ring on your finger was your original. To him, something was still going on but the ring on your finger was definitely not the one from Gojo.
Ieiri raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Best friends, huh? That's one way to put it."
Nanami, who had been quietly observing the situation, couldn't hide his disapproval. He took a swig of the new drink in front of him. "Judging by the ring on her finger then," it now clicking for him, "you shouldn't be touching her like that."
Nanami's statement only triggered Gojo even more, a cocky grin sliding across his face as he gently grabbed your wrist from the hand that was on his chest. Your eyes widened in disbelief as he suddenly began pulling the ring from your finger, putting it in his pocket before placing your hand back to where it was.
"There," Gojo smirked, "problem solved. Happy, Nanamin?"
Nanami scowled at Gojo something fierce before looking toward you with an expression that read 'do you want me to do something about him?' You gave a weak smile as if to signal it was alright, the heat still very present in your face.
He sighed, realizing there was no point in further pursuing the issue. "I see you two have your own way of handling things," he muttered, a hint of exasperation in his voice as he took another sip.
Ieiri couldn't help but laugh at the exchange between you. "Well, this is certainly a lively reunion," she noted, enjoying the drama.
Gojo decided to ease the tension with a lighthearted remark. "Nanami's always been the overprotective type," he chuckled and looked back toward you, his face too close for comfort as he grinned.
Nanami rolled his eyes. "You're the one who tends to attract trouble."
22 notes · View notes
osaemu · 5 months
Text
GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ YES, I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND, AND YES, SHE'S REAL! ❜❜
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: what happens when your gamer boyfriend brings you on-screen for the first time?
contents: fem!reader. use of she/her pronouns + reader is referred to as gojo's girlfriend. toji slander bcs he deserves it.
author's note: everyone welcome streamer!gojo to the world! he'll be here for a while...
Tumblr media
"oh, please," satoru laughs, leaning back and grinning at the screen in front of him. he tosses his hair, but it falls back into his eyes just seconds later. "no way you guys all thought i would lose that one. c'mon, have some faith in me!"
you watch satoru reply to the hundreds of comments lighting up the side of his monitor, smiling endearingly at the way he laughs at some and practically chortles at others.
it was only after the two of you started dating that satoru disclosed his streaming hobby, and to your surprise, he was pretty popular. thousands of people tuned in to watch him play some game or another every night, and well, it paid better than you'd expect.
satoru whistles, hands resting comfortably behind his head as a particular question catches his attention. "ah, do i have a girlfriend?" he muses, grinning as he shoots a quick side-glance at you. "yeah," he continues, snorting when what looks like a flurry of no fucking way's flood the chat.
he clicks his tongue disappointedly, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "what, did all eight thousand of you think i couldn't pull? thanks a lot," satoru deadpans, waving his hand and sighing dramatically. "i don't know what any of you mean. i'm a catch!"
you snicker at that, and your laughter only increases when satoru turns and gapes at you. he juts his bottom lip out, face sinking into an adorable pout at he crosses his arms. "even my own girlfriend's laughing at me," he mumbles petulantly. "hmph!"
satoru sticks his tongue out at you childishly, and you blow a kiss back. he pretends to faint before turning back to his monitor, quickly skimming the comments before he gasps. "what do you mean, she probably doesn't exist?!" he sputters, clutching his heart exaggeratedly.
the look on his face is priceless — imagine getting told by thousands of people that one, they think you can't pull, and two, that they don't even believe your significant other exists. naturally, satoru reacts as dramatically as ever. he pretends to ignore everyone in the comments before calling them out individually.
"oh, i see you, toji... fishy-guru," satoru gripes, wagging his finger at his screen. "my girlfriend exists and she's mine! don't even think about it." he pauses, squinting at the chat before correcting himself with an eyeroll. "fushiguro. whatever. either way, she's real and she's all mine."
satoru swivels his chair to face you, making an incredulous face as he gestures to the screen. "can you believe this?" he grumbles, ocean-blue eyes focused on you. "these guys don't think you're real."
you shrug, toying with the corner of his sheets as you smile back at satoru. he's so childish, but that's just one of the many things you adore about him. sure, he's an annoying brat, but at least he's a total sweetheart too.
your boyfriend extends his hand, beckoning you to come over to him. "c'mon, darling," he cooes, scrunching up his nose at you. "wanna help me prove these losers wrong?" satoru mouths please, and the puppy eyes he gives you are cute enough to convince you.
so you hop off his bed, running a hand through your hair as you stroll over to where he sits in front of his monitor. beaming like a kid on his birthday, satoru takes your hand and twines his fingers with yours.
smiling smugly, satoru pulls you on screen and into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. you watch the chat erupt with she's real's and how did he pull a girl like her's and smile, flicking satoru's forehead affectionately.
he ignores the thousands of dumbstruck users in his comments and holds you close to his chest, adjusting his grip on your waist to make his lap as comfortable as possible for you. satoru's adoring eyes are fixed on you, only you, even as his chat explodes.
suguru-geto: haha i already knew
toji-fushiguro: how the fuck did a loser like him pull her?
yuuji-itadori: gojo has a girlfriend??? what did i miss??
25K notes · View notes
gojonanami · 3 months
Text
❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ❞
Tumblr media
❝ EVERYONE WANTS SATORU GOJO, SO WHY ARE YOU THE ONE STUCK GUARDING HIM ? ❞
Tumblr media
✧ pairing: rich boy! gojo x bodyguard! reader
✧ summary: after the gojo family receives threats to their lives, you're hired to protect the heir to the company, satoru gojo - you just didn't realize how charming the rich heir would be - and just how hard it would be to resist his advances.
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is around the same age as gojo (both in their 20s but age is vague), virgin! gojo, switch! gojo, oral (f + m), handjob (m), dry humping, fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), depictions of violence, mentions of yakuza, dirty business dealings, gojo's made up dad and suguru make an appearance
✧ wc: 15,311 (i don't know what to say at this point)
✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 1 has been sold to @forest-hashira and two anons!
Tumblr media
“So, is this your first time?”
Satoru Gojo would be the end of you — one way or another. 
One way would be you sacrificing your life to protect him — fairly run of the mill when it came to guarding someone, the risk of putting your life on the line, though the chance of death usually was fairly slim. You had only come close — twice. 
You didn’t care to make it a third. 
The other, increasingly more likely, way was that you would lose your mind to his incessant yammering before you even had a chance to neutralize any threat to his life. 
You nearly spit out your drink at the question, wiping your mouth with a napkin, before managin to choke it down, “Excuse me?” 
And his lips annoyingly curl, “Your first time guarding someone,” 
The heir seemed fairly nonchalant, even after his father had sat the both of you down in a room filled with more security agents than the prime minister of Japan himself had, and had lectured him about the importance of staying with you the entire time and to respect your authority — well one out of two wasn’t bad. He’s eating a piece of cake instead of a meal, his fork digging into the back of the cake again and again, toying with his food as he did with you, “I mean, you seem fairly young, but old enough to be entrusted with my safety,” 
“Well, since you insisted on going to school, your father needed someone unassuming who looked around your age,” you lean against your hand, your other drumming against the table, as your eyes scanned the area — table of frat boys, group of girls sneaking glances at Gojo, various other students, no real threats — unless you counted the girls’ death daggers towards you, “someone who wouldn’t look out of place with you, raise any suspicions, but who could still protect you,” 
His lips curl, as your eyes find their way back to the young heir, “So basically, you had to look like my girlfriend — shouldn’t I hold your hand? Sell the act? All in the name of my safety,” 
You jerk your head towards his group of admirers, “I think what we’re doing now is plenty — unless you’d like your guard to get mauled by a bunch of hormonal college girls,” 
His eyes slid to his adoring fans, as he pities them with a wave, erupting squeals from them, “I think you could take them,”
“How flattering,” you reply drily, picking at the food in front of you, “now finish your lunch so we can get to our next class on time,” 
“Are you still upset that we were late this morning?” 
“No, I’m upset that we missed half the class and I had to take the fall for it,” the heir had oh so kindly told the professor that you had made them run late (even though he was the one who spent far too long in the bathroom). 
And even though you wouldn’t be attending this school for long, you hoped that you wouldn’t have to make yourself look like a fool the entire time you were here — but — your eyes found Gojo’s again — sticking with Satoru Gojo almost made that a guarantee that you would look like a fool — one way or another. 
Tumblr media
And you were already the fool — for thinking that a college aged boy would have any real food in his refrigerator. Although, Satoru Gojo was a different breed — instead of alcohol and questionable containers of takeout, there was...sweets. 
So. Many. Sweets.
Not just cookies and candy — but literally six different kinds of mochi (for some reason?) and almost any pastry you could possibly think of was stocked in the house. And the freezer was more of the same — seven different containers of ice cream and one aged bag of edamame stuck in the back. 
“Gojo?” you stare into the open refrigerator, while Gojo lays back on his couch, scrolling on his phone mindlessly. 
“Yeah?” 
“Do you have any food?” 
“What do you mean? The refrigerator is full of food?” and his voice is thick with genuine confusion and you’re almost wondering how this man survived to this age. 
Oh yeah, he’s rich. 
You sigh, closing the refrigerator doors, and striding over to him, only to snatch his phone out of his hands, “Sweets are not real food — how do you eat like this and function?” 
He only shrugs, lips curled into a grin, “I’m just built different,” 
“You mean like a person who won’t make it to age fifty?” you toss his phone back at him, “get up,” you grab your sweatshirt hanging by the door and throw his jacket at him. He barely catches it, as he sits up, his face displeased with your sudden need to get him up. 
“Where are we going?” 
Tumblr media
“So,” Gojo says, his hands in his pockets, as you both walk the aisles of the grocery store, “why did I have to come with you?” 
“Because I’m going to show you how to actually shop for groceries, so you don’t have a heart attack and die before my stint with you is up,” you grab essentials and basics — oil, rice, cereal, pasta, spices, flour, sugar (although did he really need sugar with the amount he was already consuming?), “you know it would suck if my client died before we eliminated the other threats on his life,” before you add with a smile, “though I think your eating habits are more likely to kill you,” 
“You know men really hate sarcastic women,” he bites back, before something catches his eye in the aisle and he places it in the cart, “major turn off,” 
“Well, mission accomplished then,” you roll your eyes, as you look back at the cart to see a box of cookies, “you know when I said you were a moron, I was half kidding, but now,” you lift up the box of cookies, “you have a million cookies at home,” 
He pouts — why do you feel like a mother refusing their child their candy at checkout? — “Not these ones,” you take the box and put it back on the shelf where it belonged, and he relents. 
“Did you eat like this before college?” 
He shook his head, “My meals were prepared for me by the chef at my home, I never really had much of a say in what I ate, or anything really,” and you shake your head, “my father wasn’t really the type to let me handle anything on my own — thus the need for a babysitter,” 
You nod, “So no one really taught you how to take care of yourself?” and he shakes his head. 
“Guess not, but I guess no time like the present to learn,” he examines the box of baking powder you had just placed in the cart, “like what this is,” and you snort, taking the box from him and placing it back in the cart. 
“Maybe by the end of this trip, we’ll have you making it past the age of forty,” 
He raises an eyebrow, “I thought you said fifty?” 
“The cookies made me lose more faith in you,” 
The two of you continue to shop, as you help him pick out vegetables, meat, and other necessities for the house. You separate the things for you and for him meticulously, as the two of you head over to the checkout, and he’s placing everything on the conveyor belt together, including your own things, “No wait, those are mine—” 
“Consider it payment,” he stops you, as you continue to try to argue, but he’s only blocking you from the conveyor belt with a raised arm, a real smile on his lips, “just let me do this for you,” And you can’t find any words, so your mouth shuts, and you nod — as you watch him speak with the older cashier with his patented charm. 
And the cashier stops you right as you’re leaving, whispering, “That’s a good one, don’t let him go, ok?” and you pause, her words sinking in as blood rushes to your cheeks. 
“We’re not—” 
“I know,” the older woman chuckles far too knowingly, as she hands you the receipt, “but you never know.” 
“You coming?” Gojo calls, turning to look back at you, as he pushes the cart of groceries, and you look from the cashier to him, before fleeing with a quick ‘thank you.’ 
And as you go home, you glance at Gojo, maybe there was more to him than you initially thought. 
Tumblr media
“This is so boooooring,” Gojo’s whining for, what you assume is, the billionth time, “I hate philosophy, moral arguments? It’s such bullshit,” 
“You know philosophy is literally a subject that encompasses everything right?” you tilt your head watching him lay on the floor as the two of you sit at the table, his head right next to you, as you sit cross legged, “there’s no avoiding it in life,” 
“Well can’t I avoid it in school at least? Because college feels very different from real life,” and you roll your eyes, flicking him between the eyes. 
“Just write your paper, I already finished mine,” and he perks up. 
And he slides his laptop over to you, “Then you can write mine,” 
“That’s not happening,” and he groans again, “you know if you spent all the time that you whined working on your paper then you’d be done,” 
“Were you this much of a buzzkill when you were in college?” Gojo stares at you, “what do you even do for fun?” 
“Why is this relevant to you writing your paper?” 
“Why is writing my paper relevant to protecting my life?” and you open and close your mouth, “c’mon give me something, anything,” 
“How about this — when you finish a page, I’ll answer a question, any question,” you offer, and he grins, as he sits up and begins to type away at his laptop. 
You sit back, lying back and using your phone, until about fifteen minutes later when he’s holding his laptop up, showing you that he completed a page, “That fast?” you’re skeptical, and then you grab his laptop, skimming the page, wondering if he was trying to trick you — he wasn’t. It was good, more than good — it was a wonderful discussion of deontological ethics. 
“How did you finish this so fast?” you raise an eyebrow, “you complain so much, but you wrote this page far too quickly,” 
He shrugs, “I’m good at everything, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “jealous?”
“Totally,” you scoff, before grinning,  “so get back to work,” and he gapes at you, before groaning dramatically, lying back on the floor again. 
“Ugh, this is too much work,” he whines again, “I don’t know why I had to take this stupid class,” he grumbles. 
“Then why did you?” you scroll through your phone, checking for any new alerts or updates from his father or any other member of the security team, “you have a choice in what classes you sign up for, don’t you?” 
And for one of the first times, you saw Satoru’s playfulness ebb away, replaced with almost a bitterness — as bitter as his words were usually sweet, “Maybe most college kids do, but I don’t have a choice in most of the things I do, including the classes I pick,” 
You tilt your head, “Your father?” And he nods, “did you even choose your major?” 
His eyes drift to the ceiling, “Is it a choice when your father tells you you’re either being groomed to run his company when you graduate or he’s not paying for you to go to school at all?” 
“No, it isn’t,” you admit, “but it could be worse, he could have stuck you with a glorified babysitter on top of it,” 
He cracks a smile, “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for babysitters,” and you roll your eyes, cracking a smile. 
“Get back to work.” 
Tumblr media
“Fuck,” Satoru muttered, watching the rain come down as he waited outside the university awning of the building he had just finished his class in. You had left him to go to class by himself — you trusted him enough not to get murdered while in class and on the walk back (high praise) — and said you’d likely just meet him back at the apartment. But now, he didn’t know how he’d get home without getting soaked. 
He checks his phone for any rideshares nearby, but there were none. And he would rather go drown in the rain than call his father’s driver, and guarantee a lecture about being prepared for “any given situation.” 
Shit. Maybe he would just risk walking. 
So he did. The rain soaked through his clothes all too quick, the wet fabric clinging to his skin, and the cold leeching the warmth from his body. And he couldn’t help but think if you were with him, you would have remembered to bring an umbrella. 
Weird, when did he ever really rely on anyone else? 
Yes, his father had maids, cooks, and personal shoppers when he was growing up — but they weren’t people he relied on — he did, but it was expected. It was their job. And yes, he was a job for you too — but…it was different. 
Satoru didn’t know when it happened but he had gotten used to your presence in his life. Whether it was at home or in class, you were always there. And it wasn’t as annoying as he thought it would be. It was…nice to have someone there to lean on. But, as he glanced up at the storm clouds, holding a hand above his eyes — rolling dark clouds with no signs of the rain letting up — this would be his reality once the threats were a distant memory. 
“Gojo!” He blinks, his eyes snapping forward, and he sees someone coming over the horizon. 
It was you — umbrella in hand, as your footsteps echoed with the splashes of water from the rain that collected on the ground. And you found your way to him, holding the umbrella over his head. He stared at you as you grew closer, wondering if you were real. And he wasn’t surprised you found him —
“How did you know?” He asks when you stand, catching your breath, short pants, as your eyes flicker up to his. 
“You always forget your umbrella, so I figured you needed one,” you shrugged, “plus I finished my meeting early so I came to get you,” and he only stares at you, “what?” 
And he only shakes his head, as he takes the umbrella from your hand, fingers brushing, as he holds it up over the both of you, your shoulders brushing as you begin to walk home. And he found himself wishing for a split second that the threats would never stop. 
“Just wondering if it’s in your job description to protect me from colds too,” and you snort, lips curling into the same smile he loved to see. 
“With you? It is.” 
Tumblr media
“A party?” 
“Yes, known as a gathering of people where—” 
“I don’t need you to define the word,” you grit your teeth, as you watch him pull out shirts from his closet, holding them up, before shrugging, “do you know the kind of danger you could put yourself in by going?” 
“I know, the party might go into a frenzy at the sight of me, think of all the students who’d glare at you then,” he grins, as he finally settles on an outfit — charcoal gray shirt and a blue button down, “might have to call another bodyguard to guard you instead, princess,” 
“Aren’t you the princess if you’re the one being guarded?” you bite back, and he only laughs, hands in his pockets, “Gojo, you have serious threats that have been levied—” 
“Against my father—” 
“And you, the heir to your father’s company,” you cut him off, crossing your arms, “are you seriously going to risk our lives because you want to get drunk and fuck around with a bunch of idiots?” 
The answer was yes, of course. 
And now here you were, stuck babysitting this spoiled heir at a party. You hadn’t really been to any parties — hadn’t bothered to. You had gotten through college at a young age, perks of skipping a few grades, and you ended up in the family business regardless — so you didn’t bother to party much. Not when you had things to accomplish — babysitting a drunk heir wasn’t one of them. 
It has started as you expected. Gojo had flitted away from your side the first moment he got, disappearing into the throng of horny and drunk college students. You wove your way through the crowd, careful not to trip over the students making out, dancing, or drinking on nearly any available surface. The smell of beer and cheap cologne wafted through this dorm. And you had almost given up on finding him when you spotted him stuck to the sides of three girls, all of them far too eager to hang off his every word. 
You sighed, this was going to be a long night. 
“You one of Satoru’s girlfriends?” you glance to your side and see Suguru Geto in person. You had learned all about Satoru Gojo and the people he hung around. Like those three girls — one of them had a long distance boyfriend, the other had a cheating situationship she was trying to make jealous, and the other just wanted to fuck him for the experience. Suguru Geto was one of the only friends of Gojo you had liked from what you had read about him — humble background, on scholarship at the college, but one of the best students here — and a philosophy student of all things, the very subject his best friend hated. 
You want to say no, but unfortunately, you have no idea what the idiot has been saying to other people, “Something like that,” you sip at your drink to make the bitter words slide down, “why? Are you?” 
A chuckle slips past his lips, as he takes a swig of his drink, “Well I already like you better than the others. You have a sense of humor and seemingly more than two brain cells,” 
“Don’t give me too much credit,” you snorted, leaning against a wall, “I did end up here after all,”
“Fair enough, how’d he convince you to come?” And you shake your head — good question. What choice did you really have? You could have let him go alone, but probably not a good look 
“I don’t even know honestly, feel like I’ve been dragged here to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid,” you glance at him and the gaggle of girls, “though maybe I already fucking failed at that,” 
Geto shrugs, as his gaze slips from Gojo to you, “I mean until he sticks his tongue down one of their throats, I think you’re doing pretty well,” 
You laugh, “Good to know,” and you both continue to chat, and unbeknowst to you, while your focus is torn away from Gojo, his attention is fully on you. 
Tumblr media
If looks could kill, Satoru imagined his crystal eyes were nothing more than daggers ready to strike, as he watches you and Suguru talk. 
It was his fucking idea to come to this party, so why were you having more fun than he was?
He swirled his drink miserably — he had barely taken a sip of the beer poured for him — why would he when it tasted like piss? He didn’t understand why people liked to drink — especially when they could eat mochi instead — but now, as he stares at you and Suguru, maybe he was starting to understand. 
He can’t hear what either of you are saying over the blaring music and the chatter of students surrounding him, but he can see the smile on your lips and the laugh that left them. 
Why the fuck do you look so happy to talk to Suguru? 
You seemed so bored when he was with you—and did you just fucking laugh again at something Suguru said? 
The crinkle of plastic and the distinct feeling of a spill made his gaze snap to his hand — he just crushed his plastic drink cup. He sighed, as he simply placed it among the other abandoned drink cups on a nearby table, before wiping off his hand with a napkin. 
Why did he even care? You were nothing but a nuisance anyway. All you did was follow him around, make him go to class on time, make sure he was safe, care about his well-being— 
What the fuck was he thinking? 
His eyes couldn’t help but slide back to you as he tried to enjoy the girls' company, their slight touches and soft pouts and sweet words not going unnoticed by him. But that was how it always was. Once people found out he was rich, people wanted to be his friend, they wanted to date him, they wanted him — but not really him, they wanted his money. 
First world problems, right? 
But you — you hadn’t been like that. You were irritatingly punctual, unfazed by his money, didn’t care in the slightest about his father or who he was — you just wanted to do your job. And he was your job, for the time being. 
And now he got to see you smile — your lips perfectly curled in a smile that both he wanted to see all the time and grated on his nerves — but you were smiling at someone else. And Suguru no less. 
“C’mon Satoru, you gonna make eyes at your boyfriend all night?” Aiko said, nudging him teasingly, her words far too slurred. 
“Help us finish these shots,” Yumiko whines, as she offers him a shot, urging it into his hands. 
He’s grimacing, he hates alcohol — he hates how he feels during and after; he hates the disgusting, metallic taste; and if it couldn’t get worse, he’s a lightweight. He stares at the shot. 
“It’s just one shot,” Misaki grins, holding up her own, clinking hers to his, “you’re already three shots behind everyone else,” 
And he’s about to open his mouth to refuse — make up an excuse of having to wake up early or stomach being unsettled — and that’s when you catch his attention. You were laughing now, a noise far too pretty for his liking, as you shoved Suguru’s chest playfully. 
Fuck it. 
He downs the shot, the liquid searing down his throat, dragging down until it settles in a burning pool in his stomach. Finally he tears his gaze away as the girls offer him another shot — as you grin at Suguru — this was going to be a long night. 
Tumblr media
“Hey,” Geto jerks his head, “you might want to deal with that,” 
You whip your head around. 
“Oh what the—“ 
Gojo was hanging all over the girls he was with, barely able to stand on his two feet, as he swayed from side to side — his cheeks glowed with the telltale glow that told everyone he had been drinking (if that wasn’t obvious by literally everything else). 
Fuck. 
You had kept an eye on him. You swore he had only taken two shots of alcohol, how was he this drunk already? You examine and sniff the two shot glasses he used — no peculiar smell or residue — you run through the gamut of tests you could do on hand and conclude two things: 1) Gojo wasn't drugged and 2) he was a lightweight. 
But that didn’t stop him from acting like he wasn’t, as girls egged him on to take more shots, and from the way they were eyeing him, their intentions were anything but pure. 
You sigh, walking over, slipping past a drunk couple making out, a person passed out and sleeping on the floor, and a cluster of cheering onlookers as a student chugged what you can only assume was a disgusting concoction of alcohol. 
Until you finally reached his side. 
“I think you’ve had enough, isn’t that right, Satoru?” And he’s blinking at you, before he’s grinning, slurring your name.
“You’re no fun,” and he’s clinging all over you, his hands curled around your waist, “such a buzzkill, don’t even like to have any fun with me,” 
“Looks like you had too much fun without me,” you murmur, your arm slinks around the middle of his back, “let’s get you back to your dorm,” 
“Hey he’s fine, he’s having fun with us,” Aiko glared at you, a hiccup leaving her lips, “don’t go crashing our good time because he’s not interested in you,” 
“Yeah why don’t you go hang out with Geto or whatever? We’ll take good care of him. C’mon Toru, let’s go to my place in Shibuya, I have a huge house there,” Yumiko says, barely coherent, and you raise your eyebrows at the nickname, as she leans in to whisper, alcohol wafting off her breath, as she lifts up her middle finger, “fuck off,” 
Honestly the only reason you can understand the gist of what she meant was because of her middle finger. Their other friend is passed out on the couch. 
“I don’t think any of you can even care for yourselves,” you scoff, and Satoru is hanging all over you already, mumbling words you can’t make out in your ear, “I’m taking him home, you should take your friend home,” 
“Geto, wanna help me out?” And Geto nods, trying to take Gojo other arm, but Gojo pushes him away, instead clinging to you, you stumble a moment before catching both of you, “Gojo—“ 
“No, wanna go home with just you,” he’s officially whining, and you’re having flashbacks to the summer you spent babysitting, but — you look at the drunk white porcupine clinging to you — somehow this idiot is worse than the kid. 
You sigh, “Geto, make sure that girl gets home safe,” you gesture to the one passed out on the couch, “I’m going to deal with this one,” 
Geto stares at the two of you, the far too tall Satoru hunched over onto your body, “Can you—“ 
But you’re already walking away, able to drag Gojo away with relative ease (it’d be far easier if he’d pull his own weight, but at least he was quiet). 
That was, until you got outside. And then the whining began again. 
“How can you treat me like this?” Gojo’s hands cling to your arm, his face buried in your shoulder, “you shouldn’t ignore the one you’re supposed to protect!” and he’s shaking his head like a petulant child, his bottom lip quivering. 
“You’re the one who left my side, not the other way around,” you grumble, as he’s finally beginning to walk by himself but he’s still stuck to your side like an overgrown cactus, “you’re the one who wanted to go to this goddamn party,” 
“Yeah but you’re the one who's supposed to protect me,” he pouts, as he stops right in front of his building, “I can’t do your job for you,” and he’s finally standing in front of you, his cheeks and nose still flushed from the alcohol, his hand still clutching at yours, “do you even know how to do your job?” 
You grit your teeth. Would punching the person you’re hired to protect be a breach of contract? You rub your temples, it may come to that. 
“You’re an idiot,” you jerk your hand away, shaking your head, “my job is to protect you, not to stop you from doing stupid college boy shit,” 
He’s crossing his arms, “I could have been in danger — what if that alcohol was poisoned? I feel really sick,” he grips, holding his stomach with pursed lips, and you’re thoroughly unimpressed. 
“I looked at it, it wasn’t poisoned,” you raise an eyebrow, before sighing, and shrugging your shoulder bag off your shoulders, rooting around in the pouch, “but if you want, I have something in my bag that will turn your stomach inside out and we’ll be sure to get the poison out,” 
“Nooooo, no! I’m fine,” he’s shaking his head, his voice grows soft, “I just need to get to bed,” he mutters, and you roll your eyes, but grab him by his wrist. 
“Come on, we’re going inside,” and it’s a struggle to get to his apartment — more like a luxury penthouse — on the top floor, but somehow you get him inside and shepherd into his bedroom. And he’s shrugging off his button up before pulling off the shirt underneath. 
Your gaze snaps away, cheeks burning, your eyes trying to erase the glimpse of his fucking unfairly chiseled physique — complete a surprisingly broad chest and shoulders — how the fuck was that hiding under his clothes? He looked like a stick normally with his clothes on. 
“See something you like?” he’s snickering, as you hear the click of his belt and the and sounds of rustling — assuredly stepping out of his jeans. 
“No, just not used to clients stripping for me,” you turn your back to him, as you hear the creak of the mattress and the crinkling of his comforter and sheets. 
“Am I just a client to you?” his words were still mildly slurred, and you knew he’d be pouting if he had enough brain cells to do so, “you can turn around, I’m under the covers,” he adds with a grumble. 
You turn and see him curled up under his blanket and you have to bite back your smile — now he most assuredly looked like one of the kids you used to babysit. 
“Well what else am I supposed to see you as, Gojo?” you cross your arms, and he’s muttering under his breath, “what?” 
“That’s just it. You don’t even call me by my first name,” he’s brooding, face twisted in a scowl, “I don’t have a lot of people I trust. Most people are just after my money or my looks,” he looks at you, “you’re different. Kinda weird,” 
You quirk an eyebrow, “is that a good thing?” 
“Well I trust you,” he admits, and you note the tips of his ears barely visible outside the comforter are red — is it still the flush from the alcohol? “I don’t really have many of those,” 
And you’re taken aback — you thought you were nothing but a nuisance to this party obsessed prince, but maybe there was more to him than you thought. You toyed the ring on your finger, maybe you had more in common than you thought. 
“Thank you, I’m glad you do, because you can, trust me that is,” you say softly, “good night, Satoru.” 
And he does sleep after that, as you spend the night keeping watch, half to ensure his safety and the other to make sure he slept on his side in case he threw up
(and he did, twice). 
Tumblr media
“I need to talk to you,” Suguru Geto barely looked up from his phone when he saw Satoru in front of him, his best friend looking more irritable than usual — his usually bored affect seemed to be on holiday, “Suguru?” 
“I heard you the first time, what is it?” and Satoru snatches the phone from Suguru’s hands, “what the fuck—“ 
“What were you doing last night?” and Suguru tilts his head, before rubbing his temple.
“Give me my fucking phone—“ 
“What did you talk to her about?” And Suguru stares at him, his brow furrowed, smart mouth ready with a reply about a stint in a spa or a retreat was needed before his lips curl. 
“Oh. Her,” and he’s leaning back, a lazy shrug, “this and that,” 
“Cut the shit, Suguru, do you like her or not? Did you get her number?” And Satoru is trying to unlock Suguru’s phone, as Suguru watches with a tilt of his head and a wry grin on his lips, “huh? what is it?” 
“So you like her, that much is clear,” and he’s crossing his arms, “I assume you didn’t tell her or you wouldn’t have come in swinging and stealing?” 
Satoru stares at him, slack jawed and cheeks turning a deep pink that only carnations could rival, “No! She’s just a…friend of the family, and she’s not supposed to be with—“ 
“She told me she liked you,” his heart catches, mouth falling open, before Suguru’s lips curl, “well, she said that she was one of the many, rather,” 
Satoru’s cheeks burn, “It’s not like that, she barely even fucking looks at me. Can you believe that? Me?” and he gestures up and down his body. 
“I see your ego is still intact,” Suguru scoffs, shaking his head, before leaning back on his palms, “just tell her how you feel, Satoru, what’s the problem?” 
“The problem is I have no idea how she feels and it’s all your fault!” And Suguru raises an eyebrow, “you charmed her and I’m sure you’re the only one she’s thinking about now,” he covers his face, “and after what I said to her last night…” he couldn’t believe he admitted that you were the one of the only ones he trusted. And he called you weird. 
He honestly didn’t know what was worse. 
“What did you even say?” 
“Say to who?” and Satoru turns, finding you standing behind him, arms crossed. 
And Satoru cuts Suguru off before he can say a thing, “Not important. What are you doing here—“ you grab him by the wrist, a wave of heat makes his nearly burn red as you begin to drag him away, “what are you—“ 
“Bye Geto,” you say, waving at the raven haired student, before taking Geto’s phone and tossing it back to him, “I’m taking the idiot—“ 
“HUH?” 
“Good luck. He might need to be fed — he’s in a mood,” and he waves back, same smile on his lips. 
“What did you two do, adopt me?” Satoru grumbles as you pull him away, “where the hell are you dragging me? How did you even find me?” 
“The post hangover suits you well, we have to get to class, and I placed a tracker on you,” and he’s jerking his hand away, staring at you, “I have to be able to find you, don’t I?” 
“Where?” 
You tilt your head, “Why would I tell you? Don’t worry about, I’ll remove it after we’re done here,” 
You weren’t going to budge on this — and if he argued more, you would take it up with his father. And he would like to avoid that as much as possible. He sticks his hands in his pockets, , “I’m tired, can’t you just go and take notes for me?” 
“I thought you’d be more concerned about the threats against your life, instead of sending your bodyguard off to your class for you” you hiss, and he’s pouting again, unable to meet your gaze, “what’s your problem, Satoru?” 
And he pauses, the retort on lips dying as his brain looped in an infinite spiral of his name on your lips, “You called me ‘Satoru,’”
You tilt your head, “you told me to last night,” and then you add with a wicked grin, “remember? When you said I was one of the only people you trusted,” you tease, but he’s too busy hearing his name repeat in his head again and again, “Satoru—“ 
“Better be careful, sweetheart,” his lips curl into that annoyingly charming smile, “keep calling me by my first name and I may fall for you,” 
You glare at him, before rolling your eyes, “I see you’re feeling better now,” you walk forward, glancing back at him, “you coming?” 
And his wrist tingles still tingle from your touch, his lips quirk into a smile, “Yeah.” 
Tumblr media
“Why did you become a bodyguard?” Satoru asks you, the movie you had haphazardly chosen still ongoing had all become background noise while you spoke, the illumination from the television screen being the only thing that kept your faces lit in the dark living room (he had insisted on shutting the lights off for an “authentic movie watching experience”). 
It had been a few weeks, with no signs of the threat posed ever being eliminated — still new threats were being made, and the Gojo family was still on edge. 
But you were on edge for a whole other reason. 
His fingers were still shoved in the bag of kettle corn he had been snacking on this entire time, but you could feel his gaze on you, instead of the movie. 
“What do you mean?” your eyes slide to him, as your phone’s ringer goes off with a spam email, and you silence it, keeping it on vibrate for emergencies, “and what’s with the sudden question?” 
The two of you had settled into your routine — days spent in class, meals shared, grocery shopping, and nights spent either in or out — but again, always together. And, it wasn’t bad — some of it was fun, to the point you almost forgot you were working. 
But you were working. Even now, as your legs are thrown up on the couch, crossed underneath you, your knee brushing against his thigh. 
He shrugs, “You owe me a question, remember?” and he reminds you of your promise from weeks ago — you had wondered why he had never asked you anything that night, “You never talk about yourself. You implied you have your degree, but not much else. From what I’ve seen of you, you’re intelligent — you could have done anything, why this?” and his lips curl into that mischievous, “unless you just had to guard me when you found out it was me,” 
You toss a throw pillow at him, but he catches it with ease, “If only your body was as bulletproof as your body,” and he huffs out a laugh, as you sigh, “why are you interested anyway?” 
“Because I am,” you scoff. 
“Nice reasoning,” he only grins, a thousand watt even in the dark. 
“I thought so,” and he’s holding the pillow to his chest, “c’mon, can you not tell me even one thing about yourself?” 
He wasn’t going to let this go was he? And you relent, chewing on your lip, “My family has been in this business for years — my grandfather, my father, my uncles, and my cousins, and I wanted to be one too. To protect people — it’s a lot more work than it seems. It’s quick thinking, critical reasoning, and analytical skills. It’s all I ever wanted to do after watching my dad do it,” you say softly, “but he didn’t think I was capable of it. He thought I was too soft. Too weak. So I decided to prove him wrong,” 
“You weak? Has your father met you?” and you huff a laugh, “I’m serious,” his cerulean pools meeting yours with not a ripple of hesitancy in them, “I’ve seen you — I don’t I’ve met anyone this determined, or stubborn,” he adds with a smirk. 
“I’m stubborn?” you gape at him, “this coming from the king of stubborn,” 
“Only if you’ll be my queen,” and you roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn, as your gaze turns back to the movie — why did your heart catch at his words? “but trust me, I’m very flexible in other aspects,” 
“Oh my god, is every other sentence that leaves your mouth a pick-up line?” and he opens his mouth, “don’t say ‘only for you,’ or I will be the only threat you have to worry about,” 
“Promise?” you grab another pillow, but he catches your wrist before you can toss it. Your breath catches, and you can’t meet his gaze — you can’t, because you know if you do— but then he whispers your name. 
And you can’t help it. You look at him. His eyes are so pretty. They were really the first things that struck you when you met him — that was before he opened his mouth. They looked like they contained multitudes, a far too beautiful ocean tucked behind sunglasses and an irritated scowl. But it wasn’t a secret that Satoru Gojo was attractive — especially not when every other person glared at you for simply being in his presence. But physical attractiveness meant little if a person wasn’t good — because superficiality could only take you so far. 
And you knew what it was like to be only judged superficially — and by the way Satoru’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when these people chatted him up, he was far too used to it. 
And once he did speak, you had written him off as another rich kid — you had seen them a dime a dozen throughout your schooling and from the people your family was protected to hire. But there was something about him — something you couldn’t quite shake, even though every part of you was telling to do so. 
“What is it, Satoru?” And his fingers tug you a little closer, gently, his hand loose enough for you to slip away, but you don’t. Why don’t you? 
“You don’t always have to have your guard up,” his voice is soft, far too soft for the far too loud heir, “it’s okay to open up,” 
You shake your head, but still unable to pull away, “It’s dangerous,” and he laughs, a sound that only warms the thin icy barrier between you both, melting it to nothing. 
“Isn’t danger the whole reason we met?” And now his thumb brushes up and down against your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse roaring just underneath. 
You pull away again, shaking your head, as you cross your arms, trying to hold your resolve together, “I can’t do my job if I’m distracted,” and you couldn’t, even now, you weren’t evaluating any risks, you weren’t trying to find the source of the threats — no, you were too busy trying not to inch closer to your client, trying not to look at his lips, trying not to give in to what you wanted. 
“And I’m a distraction?” he looks far too pleased, but a thought seems to sour his smirk, “I thought Suguru was more of one,” and his lips are caught in a slight pout. 
“Geto was just keeping me company while you entertained those girls hanging on your every word,” you can’t dull the point to your words, and it replaces his pout with a grin. 
“So you were jealous,” 
“You’re the one who was jealous — you could have killed Suguru with your glare alone,” 
“But you didn’t deny it,” and it makes you stop — why didn’t you deny it? 
“I can’t do this,” and you’re pulling away, before flicking off the tv and rising from the couch your phone in hand, turning towards the hallway, “it’s late we should go to bed—“ but he’s catching your wrist again, “Gojo—“ 
“Satoru,” he corrects, and you hated how gentle his fingers felt around your wrist, “how are you supposed to protect me if you’re too busy running away from me?” 
“I’m great at multitasking,” and he’s drawing closer to you, his soft footfalls against the carpet, even as you step away from him, “my job is to protect you, we can’t get distracted—“ 
“I thought you were so good at multitasking,” he chuckles, his fingers find your wrist again, slipping to intertwine with your own, fingers interlaced, and your phone falls from your fingers and onto the couch, “what I said that night when I was drunk was true — I don’t have a lot of people I trust. People don’t understand. They put me on a pedestal or they don’t want me, they want the concept of me — not the reality,” 
“I’m not licensed as a therapist you know,” and he’s sighing. 
“Do you always have to deflect with humor? Because if we both do that, we’ll never get through a conversation,” and he squeezes your hand, “which I guess I don’t mind if that means you’ll stay,” 
“Satoru—“ 
“We don’t have to do anything now — we don’t have to do anything at all,” and you can feel his words warming your skin, “but don’t you feel something?” 
You hesitate, and you can’t look at him,  “No, I don’t,” 
“You’re not a very good liar — don’t they teach you that in bodyguard academy?” 
You snort, holding your head, “Is that where you imagined I got my training done?”
“Well, you don’t exactly like to share, now do you?” he’s stepping forward again, and you can’t bring yourself to run away anymore. 
“I shouldn’t,” and you hear the faint sound of his breath hitching, “but I do,” 
You don’t need to look at him to hear the smile on his lips, “so maybe it’s a distraction worth having,” 
“But—” and he’s gently turning you to face him, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face, heat blooming with his touch, “Satoru…” 
“Why do you keep saying my name when you know I like hearing it?” he’s teasing, but you’re not shying away from his touch, as his fingers cup your chin now, upwards, so you meet his gaze, “maybe we should have had you pretend to be my girlfriend,” 
You chuckle, “Oh I could see that going wrong in so many ways,” and he’s leaning even closer, as he’s left the line you’d drawn far behind, marred it with his touch, and is luring you over to stumble over the edge with him. 
“Is this one of them?” 
“Probably,” and his lips brush against yours — he tastes sweet, the taste of kettle corn lingers, as his fingers cup your cheek now, and find purchase on his shoulder. It’s brief, a soft press that leaves you far too breathless, as if his touch had taken the air from your lungs, only to leave heat behind, “definitely,” 
“Is that a good thing or—” and your lips find his this time, a gasp you swallow with a smirk, and he melts into your touch, eager fingers grasping at the front of his shirt. And he responds in kind, his fingers tracing a path, as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand settles on the back of your neck. 
His touch set every nerve ending on fire — a desperate wildfire that burned a trail across your mind and body — leaving only the crave of his touch behind, that left you wanting more, needing more.
“Was that good?” you murmur, as you take in your handiwork, his pink lips were bitten red by your kisses, his marble skin a lovely flush, and his gaze far too needy. God, it’s far too easy to get lost in him — pull your anchor from the shore and get lost in his gaze and touch, “god I shouldn’t ask that, we shouldn’t be doing this—” but your body refuses to pull away, and you don’t think by the grasp he has on you, that you’d be able to anyway. 
But he only gives you the same answer to each of your statements — he kisses you again, slower and more languid this time, as the two of you walk towards the bedroom, your hands reaching for each other and the walls, as you both stumble into his bedroom. 
“We don’t—” he says, between kisses, “I didn’t—” 
“I didn’t either, but—” you can’t stop touching him, you don’t want to, despite the logical part of you screaming at you to leave his room, it’s overridden by just how much you want him. He’s frustrating, he’s an idiot, he’s sweet, he’s cute, and he’s a little pathetic — but you liked that in a man. Every sense of logic is screaming at you to stop — but it all turns to white noise  “but I don’t want to stop.” 
He’s grinning as he pulls you into another kiss, his arms wrapping around his waist, pressing you against him, “That addicted already?” lips parting as he kisses down your neck, pulse jumping under his touch. 
“You’re just lucky Geto didn’t get to me first,” and he furrows his brow, before his teeth graze against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, drawing a gasp from your lips, “Satoru, what was that for—”  
“So everyone knows you’re mine? Including Suguru,” he’s sucking lightly at the mark, soothing his tongue, “and I’ll make sure he knows,” 
“Oh, I trust you’ll be subtle,” and he’s guiding you towards his bed, both of you falling onto it, his knee pressing your legs apart, as he hovers over you, his ocean gaze dark as a storm ridden sea. 
“Oh you know me, princess,” and his knee presses against your clothed cunt, rubbing against it teasingly, “subtlety is my specialty,” 
“Subtle as a truck,” you murmur, and he’s laughing as he kisses you again, making your lips curl, as his hands slide up your sides, squeezing your hips, “Satoru, please,” 
“What’s the fun if I don’t get to tease you?” he’s kissing needy kisses to your neck, as his knee doesn’t relent, grinding lightly against your increasingly wet core, slick leeching through the thin material of your shorts, “gotta make sure you want it right?”
“You treat all the people you bring home this well?” and he’s pausing, lips against your neck, “I didn’t mean anything—” 
“You’re the first,” you stare up at him, and he’s hesitant for once when usually he’s always barreling forward, “I’ve never brought anyone here,” and he licks his lips, a deeper flush settling over his porcelain skin, “I’ve never actually—” 
And you blink, “Really?” 
He huffs, “Is it that surprising—” 
“I mean a little, from the way everyone acts around you, and the way you act—” 
“Well, ‘act’ is the key word, now isn’t it?” he’s licking his lips as he looks down at you, “it’s easy to act when you know what they expect from you — a role to play,” 
“Well, the role’s been filled, so how about you just be yourself for me?” you murmur softly, a featherlight touch as you trace the curve of his jaw, and his lips find his smile under your delicate touch, “so I can ask, is this your first time like you asked me?” 
And he’s leaning up to kiss you, your hand resting against his chest, his heartbeat galloping under your touch, “And if I said yes?” 
You smile, before flipping him onto his back, his gaze wide as he stares up at you, “Then we better make it memorable.” 
Tumblr media
“Please, I want to—“ his soft pants left his perfect lips, chest heaving as your fingers curled around his erection, far too hard from just what you had done. You’d stripped yourself and him bare — your inhibitions left far behind — as your lips kissed the tip of his aching cock.
“Lemme make you feel good, Satoru,” you murmur, looking up at him with fluttering eyes, your fingers smearing his pre cum along his length, and he’s pressing his head into the pillow, “s’big, can’t wait to feel you inside me,” you murmur, and you slowly pump him, drawing moan after moan from his lips. 
“Won’t last long—can’t—“ he’s biting his lip, his hips thrusting into your touch, before your lips suck at his tip again, and he’s gone, cumming hard all over your face and fingers. God, it never felt that good when he touched himself. Your fingers even brushing against him made him want to cum almost instantly, your soft touch and lips were enough to send him over the edge over and over again.  
He’s panting, eyes fluttering open to see you licking your lips clean with your tongue, as you meet his gaze with a grin, slowly sucking on each one of your fingers until you’ve cleaned yourself of his cum. 
“Princess, fuck,” he’s lying back on the pillow, as your lips slowly kiss back up his body, your tongue dragging between the fluttering muscles of his stomach and chest. 
“Already hard again?” You murmur, a smirk on your lips, “so sensitive for me,” 
He’s keening at your words, a whimper leaving his lips. His eyes are blown out in pleasure as he meets your gaze, and you kiss him again, sloppy and messy, as his tongue brushes against yours, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection. 
“Please,” he can’t help the words leaving his lips, “I need you,” 
“Is this the first time you’ve begged for something?” You tease him, smirk on your lips as your thumb teases one of his nipples, pulling a gasp from his lips, “such a good boy,” 
He hissed at your praise, “fuck—“ 
And you’re grinding against him, he’s already embarrassingly hard, blood rushing back to his cock as if it never left, as it drags against the all too wet fabric of your panties. And every small moan that leaves your lips leaving him needing more, his pre cum mixing with your cum that seeps through your panties, and is the second time he comes with you gonna be just grinding against each other on this bed? But he can’t help it if you keep nibbling at his neck like that, your pretty little pants in his ear, the head of his dick catching on your clit — so fucking good. 
“Toru, c-close, ngh, g’nna cum—“ and he’s nodding, forcing his eyes open to watch you cum, your chest shaking, as you hover above him, your eyes squeezed shut and lips parted as you said his name. 
“S’good,” he’s grunting, “Cum f’me,” and you both do, the slick and stickiness between your bodies almost unbearable, as you both pant, as you rest your head against his shoulder. 
The silence sinks in for a moment, as you kiss his cheek, “we can stop here if you want,” your voice is soft, nose brushing against his neck, “don’t want to make you—“
And he’s flipping you onto your back, his fingers finding the waistband of your shorts, your breath hitching as he drags the material down your legs, and tosses it behind him, “I want this, I want you, and I won’t stop saying it until you believe it,” he leans down, breath warming your breasts through your shirt, before his lips suck at your clothed nipples, making you shiver, “you like that, huh?” 
“Shut up,” your cheeks burn, but he’s only tugging your shirt over your head and off, his gaze hot as he drags his eyes down your exposed body, and it makes you squirm, “Satoru — please—“ 
“Now who’s the one doing the begging?” he leans down to suck on your nipple, while his fingers toy with the other between his thumb and forefinger, “I wanna learn what makes you feel good — wanna make you cum under my touch, wanna taste you,” he switches sides, his teeth grazing the skin of your breast, sucking a mark before soothing it with his tongue, “mine,” 
“Satoru, fuck, I want—“ and his fingers trace down your body, making you gasp, he’s kissing down your chest and then your stomach, tongue dipping into your bellybutton, “you fucking—“ 
“Gotta make you feel good don’t I?” he has a shit eating grin on his lips, as he settles between your thighs, and his fingers press against the growing wet patch on your panties, “though it looks like you’re already feeling good,” 
You bite back a whimper, “Are you gonna make me feel good or are you gonna keep talking—“ you moan when his thumb bears down on your needy clit, rubbing it through the nearly translucent fabric of your underwear. 
“What was that, sweetheart?” And he’s snapping the waistband of your panties against your skin, “couldn’t hear you,” 
“You fucker—“ and he’s kissing your clothed cunt through the wet fabric, nose brushing against your clit, making you nearly shake, as he inhales before he moans. 
“So sweet, must taste even sweeter,” he murmurs before tugging your underwear down, before you’re kicking it off, making him chuckle, “so eager,” and you scowl up at him, ineffective from the way lips are parted, “you’re so cute,” 
“I’m not cute,” you pout, and he’s laughing, a noise you could drown in, just as you do his eyes. 
“You’re very cute, and I’ll tell you as many times as it takes you to believe it,” and his lips press soft kisses to your thighs, “my cute bodyguard, you gonna guard my heart as well as you do my body?” 
And before you can reply his breath is warming your soaked cunt, his fingers parting your folds apart, your clit was puffy, your sex slick with your mixed juices, “so pretty, this all just for me?” And you hiss as he holds your outer lips apart, “so this is what your pussy looks like, huh?” And your thighs are twitching, trying to shut, but his palms hold you apart, his heated gaze meeting your shy ones, “you’re perfect, don’t hide from me, you’ve done enough of that,” and he kisses your clit, making you moan, “and I won’t have that anymore,” 
“Satoru—“ and his tongue drags over the length of your dripping pussy experimentally, tip of his tongue flicking against your clit, fuck, how can he this good at this? Your toes are already curling as he groans, his fingers sliding under your thighs, and tugging you impossibly closer to his face. Your fingers weave into his white locks, “‘ngh— 
“Be a good girl and take it,” he grunts against you, slurping your juices, the sounds of his tongue buried in your cunt, fucking you open, dragging across your walls, “taste s’fucking good, how’d I hold out this long without tasting you?” And your eyes flutter open at his groans, seeing him grind down on the sheets, so fucking horny from eating you out, “g’nna just cum from your taste alone, Princess,” you’re so incredibly soft, so soft, despite your walls being so tough, and it makes only eat you eat you from the inside out. 
You’re so close, and all you hear is the sounds of his greedy tongue swallowing you whole, and the sound of your heartbeat and short gasps. Your walls flutter around his tongue, your thighs twitching under his touch, hips jolting forward to meet his touch, his tongue so fucking deep that you can’t see straight, “Toru, please, I’m so close—“ 
And you feel him groan into your pussy, redoubling his efforts before his fingers find your clit and rub at it while he sucks at your cunt. You cum hard, fingernails digging into his scalp, as your back arches as he eagerly eats you out through your orgasm. The wet squelch of your cunt and his tongue slurping against you, drinking every drop you offer him. 
And then finally he’s pulling away with a pop, his chin and mouth dripping with your release and his spit, pink tongue darting out to clean up your cum from his face, wiping off the rest as he looked up at you from white lashed half lidded eyes. 
And you can’t even speak, still coming down from your high, as he kisses up your body again, your thighs still shaking from your orgasm, your fingers reaching for his cheek, tracing his jaw, before cupping his cheek. 
“How the fuck do you know how to do that well?” And he flashes a pretty smile, as he drags his thumb down your lips. 
“I said I was a virgin, I didn’t say I didn’t know how to do some things — and as you know, I’m an excellent student,” and you huff, raising an eyebrow, “and I’m naturally good at everything,” 
“And always so humble,” he laughs, before he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his sweet lips, and you’re rolling him over onto his back, his erection slick with precum, pressing against your sensitive cunt, “let me make you feel good now,” you murmur, his cock twitching against you, “wanna ride you, Toru, need you in me,” 
And he’s hissing, as he moves to sit against the headboard, “You keep talking like that princess, I’m g’nna cum before you even—“ and your fingers are reaching between your bodies, and you’re stroking him, smearing his precum over the length of his shaft, making his hips jerk, “fuck—” 
You’re so fucking pretty — your teeth baring down on your bottom lip, as you straddle him, hovering still, his aching tip barely brushing against your dripping cunt, “are you sure?” you murmur, eyes meeting his own, and his lips quirk into a smile. 
“Never been more sure of anything,” and you sink onto him, thick length parting your folds, and he groans, as you fit him in your pussy, inch by inch, until your hips are flush. And fuck, he’s never felt anything better — pleasure runs up and down his body, as his hands find their way to your hips.
You’re tense at first, your back slightly arched, and when he shifts under you, a moan is ripped from your lips, as you begin to adjust to his size, “s’big, Toru, gonna make it hard for me to last too, feels too good,” you’re mumbling, and he’s holding his hips taut, making sure not to move — or else, he’s sure he’d cum in one stroke, “g’nna move ok?” and he’s nodding desperately, your walls already fluttering around him — slick and warm, better anything he’d ever felt. 
You lift up to the tip, before beginning to rock steadily up and down, as he moans, your sweet cunt swallowing him eagerly, as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. Your chest bounces as you ride him, and he can’t resist leaning forward to take a hardened bud in his mouth, your moan making his cock twitch inside you. And he knows why people become addicted to sex — hell, he knew was an addict for it now, but only with you. 
“Fuck, never felt anything this good before, sweetheart, feel s’perfect for me,” he’s grunting, the coil in his stomach growing tighter, as your pace grows more and more sloppy. He wasn’t going to last long, and neither were you from the way you were groaning his name again and again. The wet squelch and smacks of your bodies meeting again and again, only making it harder to hold back, and when he looks to see a white ring of your precum pooling around the base of his dick, he’s nearly gone, “fuck, baby, need you to cum with me,” 
“It’s okay, pretty boy, cum for me,” he keens at the praise, but he’s stubborn, as you established, and he won’t cum until you do too — and so he ensures it, reaching between your bodies to rub meanly at your clit before meeting your thrusts with his own. 
And his tip brushes against that spot that has your vision blurring and toes curling, “Toru, ngh, I’m—” and you’re cumming hard around him, making him spill his warm and thick seed inside your cunt, and he’s groaning you name as he does, your body slowing as you both come down from your highs, your head resting on his shoulder, as your bodies grow limp, resting, his back pressed to the headboard of his bed. 
His fingers trace the curve of your back gently, as he turns his head to press soft kisses to your neck, “Am I still just a distraction?” his lips curled into a smile, and you chuckle, burying your face in his shoulder. 
“Definitely,” but you lean back to cup his cheek, and look at his pretty face again, “but one worth having.” 
Tumblr media
You don’t wake from your alarm the next morning. 
Instead, you wake to banging on the door. You both jolt awake, and he’s pulling you into his arms, even as you move to get up, he won’t let go, strong arms around your waist. You’re easing his arms off, trying to be gentle, “Toru, let go, and wait here, your father had a panic room installed in your closet, you hear anything, go inside—” 
“No, I’m coming with you,” and you shake your head. 
“I’m hired to protect you, not the other way around,” you leave his embrace, and face him, his crystal eyes blurred over with worry, “I can handle this,” you reassure him, your fingers intertwining with his, as you press a kiss to his knuckles, “I promise,” 
“But—” and you kiss him gently, silencing his protests, before you slip away into the hallway. 
You enter the living room, shutting the bedroom door without a sound, stalking through the hall, as you grab a knife and pepper spray from the chest of drawers that was pressed to the wall of the hallway — you had several self defense tools hidden all over the apartment. Your heartbeat thunders in your ear, mouth dry, as you approach the door from the side. 
“Who is it?”
“It’s Mr. Gojo, open this door,” and you sigh, relaxing, as you check and unlock the door for him. 
Shinsaku Gojo was only a man you were able to meet once before your work for him began. And it was a privilege even to see him then. His schedule was always packed — multiple meetings, multiple clients, and multiple women, all vying for his attention. Even as you spoke with him the first time, his eyes were on his phone the entire time, except when he had warned you, not to let anything distract you from protecting his son. 
And you had done just that — and even worse, his son had done the distracting, “Mr—” 
“Where’s my son? He hasn’t answered his phone all morning, and neither have you—didn’t you hear from your agency?” his voice is raising, as he dials your number again, and your phone vibrates on the couch. He scoffs, disconnecting the call, as his hard gaze turned back to you, “what if there was a threat? You left your phone—” 
“Dad,” Satoru emerges from the room, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, “it’s not her fault, she forgot it last night when we were watching a movie,” 
“Watching a movie?” he sneers, his cerulean gaze the same as son, but without any of the warmth Satoru had — an icy tundra compared to a warm pool, “she should be watching you, that’s her job—” 
“She was watching me — something you never bothered to do,” and his father’s eyes narrow, “she’s shown more concern for me than you ever had — and she only met me a few weeks ago. What’s your excuse for being a pathetic piece of—“ 
“Satoru,” your fingers brush his shoulder, shaking your head, “sir, I take responsibility for this lapse of judgment. Don’t blame your son,”
Satoru lowers his voice, “it’s not your fault—“ 
“It is. I disregarded by duty to protect you,” your cheeks burn with shame — “what if i had missed an alert you were in danger? What if I failed to protect you because I wasn’t focused? What if—“ 
“Nothing happened,” he says softly, and the twitch of his fingers tells you he’s gonna reach for you, but you step forward, shaking your head. 
“Nothing did,” and you turn to his father, “I’ll protect Satoru until you can find a suitable replacement for me. But I compromised my mission to protect him. I would like to resign as soon as possible,” 
“No! I—“ 
“Agreed,” his father says, “I’ll have your replacement here in an hour, make sure you’re packed up by then,” and his father leaves without another word. 
You brush past him to gather your things, but he’s caught you by the wrist, “Why did you do—“ 
“Gojo,” and you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, “I can’t let my feelings get in the way of keeping you safe—“ 
“I don’t care—“ you cut him off. 
“I do, I couldn’t stand if something happened to you because of me. What it was an emergency last night and you got hurt because of my own carelessness—“ 
“It wasn’t careless what happened last night—“ 
“It was,” you say, walking to your room, “and it won’t happen again.” 
Tumblr media
You left. You had expected a fight, an argument, a dramatic show of tears — but nothing. Satoru hadn’t even opened his door to watch you leave. The other bodyguard arrived quickly, and you left the penthouse and didn’t look back. 
It was for the best. 
You had a duty, a role to play, and more than that, you couldn’t let him get hurt because of your inability to compartmentalize. Even so, Satoru’s father was kind enough not to have told your father what happened — or you supposed it was pity in exchange for your quick and easy resignation. 
Fuck. Why were you still thinking about this? You rolled over in bed, burying your head under your comforter. A week out, and you still couldn’t stop worrying about Satoru, about his safety, about the hurt on his face, about that night… 
You had fucked everything up, and fucked Satoru up in the aftermath. 
You poke your head out, and stare at your phone on your bedside table — 7:45 PM, no new messages — you had written out six different messages to him again and again, before deleting them. You wondered how many more you’d write before you finally would rid your mind of him. 
Would you ever rid your mind of him? 
And that’s when your phone rings. But it’s not flashing Satoru’s number — it’s his father. You scramble for the phone — why was he calling? And you can only think of one reason. You can’t say a single word when you pick up — his father already hissing his first question.  
“Where is he?” your words are lodged in your throat, stuck on your heart that had leapt from your chest. 
“What?” 
“Where’s Satoru? He came to you didn’t he?” he growls, and you hear a slam, assumedly his fist against his desk, “he shook off his new bodyguard, and his phone is off,” 
“He hasn’t — I haven’t talked to him since I left—” your mind is running a mile a minute, racking your brain, placing the call on speakerphone, as you text Satoru, where are you? “Where did the bodyguard see him last?” 
“He had him at the dorms, he said he was going to see a friend, and then gave him the slip,” his father groans, “you hear anything from him, otherwise—” 
“I’ll let you know,” you cut him off at the threats — you had more important things to do. You checked your messages, but your messages hadn’t gone through, and you tried calling him — but it went straight to voicemail. Satoru was upset — he could’ve blocked you or turned off his phone to piss off his father, but you didn’t see him doing that. He was an idiot, but he knew his father would lose his shit. 
And then you remembered. The tracker you placed on Satoru — you never took it off. You had sewed it into the insole of his daily shoes (the man had far too many clothes and shoes, but he rarely found the energy to not wear anything besides the shoes he always wore). 
You turned it on, biting your lip as you watched the tracker loaded, and his location popped up — and it wasn’t at his apartment. 
It was in Shibuya — you typed in the address and he was at a house. 
You furrow your brow, who did he know who lived in Shibuya? And then it clicked. 
Fuck. 
Those girls. 
Tumblr media
Satoru groaned, fuck, why is his head hurting so badly? 
It wasn’t exactly unusual the last few days. He hadn’t been sleeping much since you left, he spent most of his nights watching TV and rotting in his bed. But everything reminded him of you — his bed, his couch, and even the shows he watched (he had continued one of the shows you both had started one late night). 
His apartment was a disaster — a mess of empty soda cans, empty wrappers of candy and old takeout containers. But he couldn’t be bothered with it — to clean it up or call someone to clean it up. His bodyguard had taken up residence in your room — or rather the guest room — and hardly emerged, keeping an eye on him through cameras his father had installed around the doors and hallway. 
Not that he really needed to, Satoru rarely left his apartment, even had skipped classes for a week — sending an email that he had a very contagious illness and that he’d be happy to attend class if necessary. They sent him materials to work on classwork from home, piled untouched on his kitchen counter, with a possible smudge from the hot fudge he had last night. 
He had made progress — instead of staying in bed, he moved onto the couch for his afternoon nap, and he had just fallen asleep when there was a banging on his door. He groaned into the couch pillow he had just gotten comfortable on, before pulling it onto his head, trying to block out the sounds of the knocking. 
“Satoru! Open up,” he hears Suguru’s voice through the door, “open the fucking door, I know you’re not sick,” 
He pulls himself up, groaning, as he wipes the small amount of drool from his lips, as he meanders to the door, throwing it open. 
“You look like shit,” Suguru says, brushing past him to enter. 
“No ‘hello, you look like shit?’” He mumbles, still rubbing his eyes, “what are you doing here?” 
“I should be asking you that,” he stands, hands in his pockets, as he takes in the mess with a wrinkled nose, “although I see you’ve decided to redecorate,”
“Hilarious,” Satoru replies, lying back on the couch, “did you come here just to hassle me?” 
“I’d be lying if I didn’t say that wasn’t part of it, but the other was to see if you’re ready to pick yourself back up after your breakup—“ 
“It wasn’t a breakup,” Satoru snaps. 
“If it wasn’t, then why does it look like you haven’t showered in several days since she left?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, and Satoru scowls. 
“I’m sick,” he turns away to face the couch, “I don’t have the energy to shower,” 
“But you have the energy to eat about half a dozen mochi doughnuts?” Suguru holds up an empty doughnut box, and Satoru holds a couch pillow to his chest, “Satoru, come on, it isn’t like you to wallow like this,” 
“I’m not wallowing—“ 
“Yeah, yeah, you’re sick, right?” Suguru says sarcastically. Satoru doesn’t need to look at his best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes, “well you don’t seem like you’re sneezing or coughing so go take a shower or something,” Satoru gives a weak fake cough, and he could feel Suguru’s glare, “fine, rot in bed, but you have to get up sometime, just text me when you’re ready to,” 
And Satoru hears Suguru’s footsteps recede to the door, swinging shut with a click behind him. He buries his face in the pillow. It wasn’t a break up. How could it be when you didn’t even have a relationship to begin with? You had made that clear enough when you left without another word to him. He didn’t leave his room until he heard the door shut behind you, and he made his way out to watch you leave out the front door of the apartment. And you didn’t even look back. But you weren’t the type to. 
He felt like he was always looking back — one way or another. 
And even now, as he came to — he was trying to remember what he had done after Suguru left. Someone else had shown up — knocked at his door. Offered to get him out of the house — offered him free alcohol and a distraction. 
And he had agreed — if only to forget about you for a moment. Drinking was the only thing that made him forget — if he only could somehow forget how terrible alcohol tasted. 
His head spun, so was this a hangover? It’s certainly worse than the one he had before — the last one felt like his brain was fuzzy and nausea clawed at his stomach — this time, it felt more akin to someone taking a blender to both of those organs. And his neck, he stretched it both ways. How had he fallen asleep? 
And then he tried to lift up his hand to rub his eyes, and he couldn't, wrist straining against something — his brow furrowed, what was arm caught on — and his eyes fluttered open. It was dark — the only light came from another room, peeking through the crack at the bottom of, what he assumed was, a door. And then as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he looked at his arms. 
Ropes. Twisted around both his arms, binding his wrists and forearms to the arms of a chair, and his vision blurs — what? His legs jerk instinctively, but ropes dig into the flesh of his ankles, and he glanced down only to find what he expected. 
“You’re awake,” the light flicks on, he lifts his head, blinking away the fog in his head and the burning tears slipping from his eyes, “didn’t realize the drug would knock you out for that long,”
He blinks again and again, light flooding his eyes, until he can see and sees a familiar face — “Misaki?” the light sends a piercing jolt through his head, “or is it Yumiko?” 
“Well that’s flattering, you can’t even remember my name?” she sighs, crossing her arms, “well I unfortunately don’t have the same luxury,” and then she adds with a quirk of her lips, “it is Yumiko,” and she steps forward, as his eyes squeeze shut, his head still banging, “sorry what I gave you to knock you out can cause some light sensitivity,” 
It’s slowly sinking in, “I don’t know what kind of weird kink you have, but I’m not interested,” and she scoffs, pressing her knuckles to her chin, “where am I?” 
“Do you think I’m really going to tell you that?” she raises an eyebrow, “I did send you threats after all, you don’t think I’d be that stupid to tell you where I am,” 
He needed to buy time, he needed to find a way to get out of here, and to do that, he needed time, “What? Are you obsessed with me or something? Do you want my body?”
“I’m going to stop your overinflated ego there,” she sighs, leaning against a table that was behind her, “I have a debt to pay and you’re the price,” 
“Debt?” he repeats, “is this where you explain your whole plan? And villain speech? Because I usually I could care less, but I’m feeling a little generous with my time, as I’m a little tied up at the moment, so—” 
“Do you ever shut up?” 
“It’s known to happen on occasion,” she rubs her temples, and then something occurs to him, “how did you get my address? You showed up and invited me,” 
She shakes his head, “You think I couldn’t find out your address after sending you threats?” and she sighs, “You know this is why I tried to do this at the first party — get it over with so I wouldn’t have to deal with this. But then you crushed your beer cup, your little girlfriend got in the way, and that idiot Misaki accidentally switched her shot glass with yours, so I couldn’t get you dosed,” she grits her teeth, “and then the rest of the semester, your girlfriend was up your ass the entire time — but she wasn’t your girlfriend was she? She was your bodyguard,” he says nothing, “you don’t need to confirm it for me, I already found her information, her name, her address—” 
“What do you want? Money? My father will pay anything to get me back. Tell me who you need to repay and he’ll do it,” and her lips curl. 
“So serious now — and so cooperative, maybe I should have kidnapped her too while I was at it,” she shrugs, while she grabs her phone from the table — a burner — “my father will be here to escort you to where you need to go. The yakuza will take it from there,” his blood runs cold, “Don’t cause a fuss and i can promise your girlfriend will stay safe,” 
He grits his teeth — he was so stupid. This was exactly the kind of shit you were trying to protect him from. And it was the thing he landed himself in the moment you left. But he didn’t care — because it was better this way, because you were safe this way.
“Wow, you’re pretty cute when you’re all quiet,” and she’s walking over, and he’s flinching as she drags a manicured nail down his cheek, before tilting it up, “it’s just that mouth that’s a problem,” and her thumb brushes down his lips, “don’t bite, or we might have a problem,” 
And he doesn’t, but then he smiles back, “you might like it when I bite,” he smirks, “why don’t you come here and find out?” And she raises her eyebrows, leaning closer, and he smashes his forehead into hers, “fuck off,” 
She stumbles back, losing her balance, and leaning against the table as she clutches at her forehead. Satoru watches her, trying to wriggle out of his constraints, rope chafing against his skin, red welts rising on his skin, but he only manages to get one hand free before she’s starting to get her bearings, and then he’s trying to free himself, his chair tipping over. And now he’s lying helplessly as she stumbles forward over to him, clutching a knife she grabbed off the table. 
“I have to hand you over to the yakuza, but they didn’t say you had to be completely unharmed,” she presses the tip of the knife to his cheek, “maybe we’ll do something to that pretty face of yours,” he grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. 
CRACK. 
He hears a body slump over, and the clatter of the knife against the cement floor, and his eyes open to find you kneeling beside him. He’s blinking, murmuring your name, “What are you—” 
“Well I never did remove that tracker did I?”  You’re cutting the ropes on his wrists and ankles with the knife, “and I’m lucky you wear the same damn shoes everyday,” 
“Why did you come for me?” he says, as you finally free him his restraints, your fingers gentle as they examine the welts and bruises left on his skin, “you could have just told my father where I was or the police,” 
“I could’ve. I saw where you were and I figured it out—“ and your voice wavers, “but all I could think was that I wanted to find you. And I didn’t wanna wait for anyone else. I didn’t want something to happen just because someone else was too slow,” the lump in your throat grows only larger, as you sit, “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,” 
“Why?” he asks softly, his fingers brush against your cheek, and he knows why — he does, but he needs to hear it. 
“Because I just want…to be the one to protect you,” you admit, tears burning at your eyes, as your thumb traces over his rope burns and bruises, “I wish that I could have,” 
“You did a pretty good job, considering I almost was about to get my face cut up,” and he gently wipes your tears away, “imagine what a tragedy that would be,” 
You give a watery chuckle, cupping his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” and he opens his mouth, “no i really am. I shouldn’t have slept with you, only to cut and run after. I thought…I thought I was doing you a favor,” 
“How?” And you sigh, blinking away your tears. 
“I put your life in danger by doing that. I couldn’t do that. I knew the only way you’d let me go is…if I lied to you and said I didn’t care about you,” you bite your bottom lip, “and I’m sorry because I only hurt you more in the end,” 
He kisses your lips gently, chastely, his breath warming your lips as he parts from them, “you did,” and you scoff, pushing him playfully, “but as long as you promise not to do it again, I think I can find it in my incredibly generous heart to forgive you,” 
You kiss him again, softly, your fingers sliding to the back his neck, into his undercut, “I promise,” and he grins, before leaning back to kiss you again, when a cough behind you catches your attention. 
“My father will be getting here shortly you idiots, while you gaze fucking stupidly into each other’s eyes,” she sneers, and you raise an eyebrow. 
“You think I’d come here without calling the police? They already have picked up your father — and they should be almost here—“ and the sounds of an ambulance and police sirens come into earshot. 
“Good timing,” Satoru mutters, as Yumiko tries and fails to stumble to her feet, and you get up and pin her to the ground. Satoru raises an eyebrow, and watches, as you glance back at him, tilting your head in question, “nothing, it’s just…hot to see you in action,” 
You laugh, “Did she hit your head too?” And he shrugs, as he gets onto this feet with shaky legs, “Satoru—“ 
And he sits next to you, leaning on your shoulder, “just let me rest here for a minute,” he mumbles. 
For the first time since you left, Satoru felt like he could finally rest. 
Tumblr media
And Satoru did rest, he realized as he blinked awake to the ambient sounds of the hospital room, the distinct beep of the heartbeat monitor, the dim light of the moon filtering through the shades, and the distant sounds of people walking through the hall. He hears the sounds of sheets rustling, and his gaze snaps over to his left. 
His gaze softens. You were fast asleep beside him, your arms tucked under your head, your breaths were soft, as they were the night you two had spent together. He sat himself up — fingers running through your hair gently. You had fallen asleep before him that night, face buried in the crook of his neck, and your legs entangled with his. And now you slept beside him on a chair, leaning on his bedside. 
His fingers carded through your hair again, and you stirred, as he swore under his breath, your eyes fluttered open, “Toru?” you mumbled, still half asleep, and he hummed. 
“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he sighed softly, “why are you sleeping here? You should have gone home,” you sit up, stretching, as you furrow your brow, eyes scanning him for any sign of an injury or distress. 
“I wanted to make sure you were okay — you were unconscious, but no concussion thankfully. I tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t wake,” you sigh, words tumbling out almost faster than you can think of them, “they mostly kept you for observation, but are you feeling okay? Should I get the nurse—“ 
And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you, as he sighs, burying his face in your neck, “I just want to stay like this for a while,” he murmurs, “I got everything I need right here, got it?” He feels you nod, and he feels the hint of your tears on his skin, but says nothing, only his lips quirk, “you did mean your promise?” 
“I did, I won’t leave like that again,” and he’s leaning back, head tilted, and you chuckle, “I mean I won’t leave you at all, how’s that?” 
“Good girl,” he murmurs, leaning closer, and his heart squeezes when he hears your breath hitch as he does. His eyes flicker to your lips and back, “can I kiss—“ 
But you kiss him first, softly, your fingers brushing his cheek, and god, why was it that a single touch from you melted him away to nothing? Whittled his world view to a pin where all he could feel, all he could see, was you. 
And then you kiss his cheeks, his chin, his jaw, and then your teeth graze the soft part of his neck, drawing a pretty gasp from his lips, as you suck lightly on his skin. 
He’s whispering your name, breath sucked from his lungs as if your teeth had pierced through his throat instead of just his skin, “what was that for?” 
And you smile, “so everyone knows you’re mine.” 
Tumblr media
“You’re changing your major?” Suguru raises his eyebrow, as he lounges on Satoru’s couch, holding his head up with his elbow propped against the top of the couch, “your father must’ve been thrilled about that,” 
“He lost his shit, but that geezer can fuck off,” Satoru shrugs, “he threatened to not pay my tuition, but once I threatened to go public with his dealings with the yakuza, he saw it my way,” 
Suguru tilts his head, “His what?” 
You bring over tea from the kitchen, placing it on the table, “After what Satoru found out from Yumiko and her father, their debt to the yakuza would have been paid off by kidnapping one of Satoru’s father’s close relatives, but I was wondering why was the yakuza so eager to do so?” 
“Apparently my old man had the brilliant idea of entertaining the yakuza on some deal he was making,” Satoru explains, leaning back on the couch, as you sit against his legs, “and when he backed out, the yakuza wanted to push it through anyway — and well, thus their blackmail of Yumiko’s father, once they found out his daughter went to school with me.” 
“Yeah, turns out her father had gambling debts owed to the yakuza,” you sighed, “she got caught in the crossfire — I almost feel bad,” 
“Speak for yourself, she drugged me, tied me to a chair, and held a knife to my face,” Satoru scoffs, sipping his tea that he had you drown in sugar. 
“Well you didn’t complain when I did that last night,” you reply, making both Satoru and Suguru choke, and you laughed, squealing when Satoru lifts you into his lap to bury his face into your back. 
“You two are officially sickening to be around,” Suguru grimaces, still coughing from choking down his tea, “I think I liked it better when he was wasting away in his apartment,” 
“You wasted away after I left?” You turn to look at Satoru, who shoots a glare at Suguru, “sorry Geto, that’s not happening again,” and Satoru softens his gaze, pressing a kiss to your head. 
“Alright, that’s it, I’m leaving,” Suguru gets to his feet, as he glances back at you two, “don’t rush to get up, I’ll see myself out,” he rolls his eyes. 
“Don’t worry we weren’t going to,” Satoru pulls you closer, and Suguru narrows his eyes, before his lips curl into a grin. 
“Just for that, I’m sending your girlfriend a picture of the mess you looked like when she left,” Satoru gapes at him, while you bite back a laugh. 
“Suguru!” Satoru calls, but the door’s shut, and you’re starting to giggle. He’s pouting now, “so my girlfriend thinks it's funny to see me in the pathetic state she left me in?” 
“Oh your girlfriend finds it very funny, and she might even make it her boyfriend’s contact picture,” you smirk, and he’s biting back a smile, “What?” 
“This is just the first time we called each other that,” he mumbles, a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks, “it’s nice,” he admits. 
“Well, I am yours, aren’t I?” you smile, and he presses a kiss to your lips, as he would again and again. 
“My one and only.” 
Tumblr media
✧ a/n: so this fic was so freaking long. i'm sorry it took so long to post this - i got a little sidetracked by prof geto haha. but i'm hoping to start on the next one soon :). i think i'll put a poll up on which one i should write next! edit: forgot to tag the people who requested this, its now added in T_T
✧ taglist: @teatreeoilll, @intrxspectiv, @marvel-fanaticz, @ilovemybabes, @lwustyz, @jayathelostdragon, @vampzys, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @soilmayo, @iwassentfromhell, @lobotomy-kaisen, @gojoallmine, @forest-hashira, @h3artpiecexx, @lailarratx, @gummibat, @hanlay, @ilovewoo9, @nvmlolo, @h6avenly, @eriyvesa, @alexandraioann4, @eclipsephase, @sokkasmoon, @aizzon, @makotome9, @daddytojji, @fluffy-pancakes01, @imjustmememe, @spookyy-gracee, @forest-fruits-jam, @that-goth-bisexual, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @lookinreality,
11K notes · View notes
riaki · 4 months
Text
i literally cant stop thinkin’ about highschoolbully!gojo who used to be your ride or die ‘til he started getting attention from those popular jock type guys who are always assholes to everyone. and him being.. well, him means he preens under attention no matter who it’s from, so naturally he started to gravitate towards that group and their little troop of cheerleading fangirls. and then he started distancing from you and without either of you really realizing it, you’ve slipped between the other’s fingers. but the way he acts towards you makes you think he let you fall without moving a muscle to slow you down.
soon enough, a year swings by and by the end of it he’s gone from your life, save as just another face in the gaggle of boys who make crude jokes and laugh at smart kids and pop milk cartoons during lunch just for the hell of it. but you’re minding your own business, ‘cause you’re mature enough to realize that people come and go, no matter how close you might’ve been and you think it’s unfortunate that so many memories could be thrown aside in a blink of an eye, but it makes a lot of sense when you walk past satoru and his friends bullying some random kid. you don’t know him, but you’ve heard enough to realize it’s his girlfriend satoru’s flirting with while his ‘gang’ kick at the kid. and it’s sickening, but you don’t say anything when you walk by.
and when you don’t ever see the kid afterward and catch the dark eyebags under his girlfriend’s eyes, you come to the cruel realization that satoru isn’t the boy who’d bandage the scrape on your knee you got from tripping in the playground or buy you a soda because he’s noticed your sweat when you were walking home and you don’t have any money left on you.
it’s a glass half empty, half full type of situation. on the one hand, you don’t have him anymore. on the other hand, you don’t have him anymore. that is, you lost your best friend, but you’ve also lost someone who has the potential to absolutely ruin your life. and you don’t know whether to be glad or not, so you just mind your own business even if it hurts a little when he ignores you, stops tossing paper at your head in class (unless it’s to embarrass you) and stops walking you to and from school.
but the cherry on top of the shit cake is that he doesn't get it. so when he approaches you in the library one day after satiating the need to tear pages from books and make them into paper airplanes to throw at people, he doesn't seem to understand why you try to ignore him, or put off his attempts to hold a convo. but the worst part is that he's just sleazy and clueless about it. it's like he took an eraser and wiped every single year of your friendship off the chalkboard with one fell swipe, and you wish he'd done that too to the less-than-appropriate messages he and his friends had written towards one of your classmates.
he doesn't understand why you're hesitant to talk, and that's what makes it the worst. he always thinks he's in the right, and he keeps setting you off and it sucks that he knows exactly what sets you off. "i'm an asshole? what're you talking about? really, you're in over your head. you never change." he laughs, and you ignore him, and he gets bored, and he's about to leave when he spots your wallet open next to your book, on the table. there's a polaroid peeking out, and he recognizes the tufts of white hair to be him. but there's a weird feeling in his chest, and he thinks he gets it from you, so he leaves because he thinks you're weird.
and it goes on; you practically become a nobody in satoru's eyes, because of that weird, weird feeling you give him. it's unfamiliar and he's never gotten it before and he doesn't like it. but it's unavoidable when your professor pairs you two for the end-of-term project. and of course, you're ready to do all the work, because that's how it always was between you when you were kids. but sometimes he'd surprise you by helping, and he'd show you that he was actually intelligent just to earn your praise because he liked it. but he ignored you, and you did everything, and it would've been okay if not for his friends egging him on to present your entire project when the day came and leave you with no content for a grade.
that's the first time it hits him: does he really want to do that? but it's not like it'll be the first time; you've always taken the hits for him, because you're naturally smart and you'll pick yourself back up in no time, and you get why he does it, so it'll be okay. so he agrees, and he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you through it, but the nagging weird feeling that blooms in his chest like a pesky weed only grows stronger. that's all his feelings ever seem to do around you.
but before you know it, presentation day swings around. you had coffee this morning (on his card), and you're ready enough to shoot him a small smile that sends his heart a-flutter. so you go up, feeling up to the task and ready until— he starts talking, and talking, and talking, and people don't think that he's taking your words out of your mouth because he's intelligent when he wants to make you praise him and you don't get the chance to get a word in and you notice the guys are laughing and hitting each other's shoulders to themselves in the upper rows and before you know it it's over. people are clapping but moreso they're looking at you and they're whispering— but it's terribly loud and they don't bother to hide it. they call you things that shouldn't bother you but they do anyway, because it's satoru's fault, and you're such a fool for thinking you could have it your way again.
so you leave class early, excusing yourself and ignoring the way your professor gives you a distasteful look and scribbles something next to your name. you're out the door in a second, neglecting your bags and satoru's a little lost because— didn't he just do good? people were clapping, and laughing with him and not at him, but it's attention either way so he doesn't mind. so why do you? why did you look at him like he stabbed you in the back? and his friends are calling his name, and he wishes he could chase after you and do something but he doesn't.
and it's a little sickening what they do next; one of their girls grabbed your bags and tossed it to them, and they've started rifling through it as if they own it, tearing up your shit and dumping everything onto the ground and he's kind of just... glued to the chair by his feelings. his heart feels like it's been patched together and the weird fuzzy feeling he had in his chest that's been cultivating has extinguished to be replaced with something he realizes he's only ever felt when it comes to you— guilt.
he's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize his friend is silently offering him something— nudging his side to get his attention. he takes it without really realizing he moved his hand, and his silent friend with the gauges in his ears and the dark hair gets up and leaves without another word. when satoru looks down, he realizes he's been given your wallet. "the reward for betraying your baby," they call it. like all you're worth is the money in your account.
he's a little curious. that's how he's always been; asking you questions, rummaging through your stuff, laughing sheepishly and shaking it off when you caught him red-handed. so he opens it up, ignoring your sad little cards and the funny look on your license. he's looking for something, subconsciously; but he doesn't find it. there's no white tuft of hair to suggest his presence in your life; just empty black leather. nothing else.
and he doesn't see you after. or the following day. or the following weeks; weeks that turn into months that turn into the end of school and he's graduating but you're not by his side. and neither are his so called 'friends'; the only thing he has to their name is your own ruined friendship. it's a shame; he feels alone. very alone. no fuzzy weird feeling, not even that thing people call guilt. no attention to chase, and connections are ever harder to make. it shouldn'tve mattered that much, right? it was just a presentation. why wouldn't you just come back to him like you always did? were you not still friends...?
but the blood is still on his hands, and he doesn't manage to ever wash it off. guilt has a way of festering; of weighing on the heart 'till there's nothing left to feel or think but unfortunate circumstance and what could've been done differently. it just sucks that he never tried hard enough to keep you from slipping between his grasp. and now, he doesn't even have a polaroid to your friendship's name.
pt.2
10K notes · View notes
satoruoo · 3 months
Text
"you're doing it wrong, baby."
the man before you only huffs in annoyance, a pout forming on his glossed lips. you stifle a laugh as he sulks, his fingers working to untie the sad excuse of a bow that held your heel in place.
"let me try again," satoru half pleads from between your legs, "i promise i'll get it right this time."
in truth, you're enjoying the view of your boyfriend kneeling at your feet while he attempts to tie your lace-up heels. your foot is strategically placed between his legs, pretty white-painted toenails on display as he tries and fails to correctly strap up your shoe.
hell, he's kneeling in a tailored suit, and it's messing with your brain.
you're going on a date tonight - it's a fancy restaurant that satoru's been dying to try out. it'd been a pain in the ass to pick out an outfit, not because you lacked clothes, your boyfriend ensured your wardrobe was always filled to the brim with the latest fashion. no, rather, it was because he insisted you wear matching outfits.
his problem, however, was your choice of shoe. your favourite pair of black lace-up heels was your pick for the evening. he'd asked to do them up for you and you thought it was going to be a 30-second thing.
you've now been sitting here for 10 minutes.
"what the fuck is this shit?" he mumbles to himself, irritated. "why is this so complicated??"
another attempt and he's given up, leaning back a fraction to critique his work. horrible, as expected.
you laugh as satoru sighs loudly, leaning his head on the exposed skin of your thigh in exasperation. his white locks tickle your flesh, and you take it upon yourself to rake your manicured nails through his hair, fingertips scratching his undercut affectionately.
you think he's adorable like this - absolute putty in your hands. he nuzzles into your skin, leaving soft kisses on the plush of your thigh as you dutifully work your fingers over his scalp.
"how about i do one, and you can watch and do the other?" you suggest.
he perks up quickly, icy blue irises sparkling. he nods, a beaming smile settling on his lips. he shifts his weight and leans back to give you space.
"so, you take these, 'round the back, and twist, then under and wrap around the ankle, twist one more time, and - boom!" you finish tying the bow on the back of your calf and smile.
satoru's eyebrow raises immediately, an expression half of disgust and half of confusion finding its place on his features. he squints at you, "you expect me to do that?"
"precisely," you respond with a smug grin.
there's a subtle challenge in your answer, and satoru drinks it like water. a challenge? he'll do it, easy. he switches your feet, sticking his tongue out as he focuses on his task.
you're watching him, amused by the way his brows furrow in concentration as he repeats the steps. around, the straps are crossed around your foot. twist, the straps are twisted. under, the straps are hooked beneath the heel. wrap, the straps are crossed and taken around your leg. twist.
he's done it. a fast learner, indeed.
you can't help the way your lips curve into a smile, applauding his efforts. his crystalline eyes are on you again - how could they not be? you're nothing short of gorgeous in that dress - pleading for some kind of praise.
"thanks, babe." you say, bending to place a kiss on his collarbone.
(he hopes to god there's a lipstick stain there so he can show everyone in that restaurant who he belongs to.)
satoru, being the most amazing boyfriend out there, helps you get on your feet, hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you from your apartment to his car.
"you look stunning tonight, love." he says while grinning like a lovestruck fool as you slip into the passenger seat.
"i know," you answer, shooting him a smile that gets him weak in the knees, "you picked the dress, after all."
you were going to be the death of him.
Tumblr media
tagging: @sad-darksoul
7K notes · View notes
gojokitkat-5 · 3 days
Text
New Jujutsu Kaisen Promotional Video Featuring GOJO SATORU
youtube
You are always a winner in our hearts. 💙
43 notes · View notes
tteokdoroki · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
ೀ⋆OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES ━━ satoru gojo + breeding !
୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. satoru gojo + breeding. thirty days until you become queen, thirty days to get married and thirty days to stop sneaking around with the man trying to steal your crown… (5.2K)
୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, royalty!au, enemies to lovers (?), forbidden romance, infidelity and cheating, spit kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, pregnancy kink, breast play, agoraphilia, baby trapping, oral sex (f!recieving), unprotected sex, princess + fem!reader, lord!satoru gojo.
୨୧ — director’s note. woo happy spooky season my loves. welcome back to another tteokdoroki kinktober! im excited for you to see whats in store this year, hope you enjoy this fic to start off mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧
Tumblr media Tumblr media
you have thirty days to get married.
being from a small town, somewhere that’s not even on the map — you never expected your family name to carry much meaning aside from the one you carved out for yourself. let alone expect your name to come from royalty.
if you thought discovering how to be a teenager at sixteen was hard, then try discovering how to be a princess at sixteen on for size. everything you’ve ever done since finding out you were royalty has been for your family. you’ve kept your head down, out of the spotlight aside for the occasional appearance and charitable events. you’ve studied hard, double-majoring in international relations alongside political science and diplomacy. 
you’ve prepared yourself thoroughly enough to feel ready to take the mantle of queen — especially with your grandmother planning to step down. all of your accomplishments have been leading up to this very moment — it’s so close that you can practically feel the weight of the crown on your head. 
except there’s one itty, bitty, little problem.
you still have to get married in thirty days. otherwise, your family title will be poached from right beneath your nose.
satoru gojo (aka public enemy number one) is the nephew of a member of parliament who just so conveniently knows genovian law better than your grandmother does. since satoru came of age before you did, and he’s lived in genovia for longer than you have, and has some random distant relative in connection to the first king — the men of parliament have decided that he too is in line for the throne. 
especially if you, the princess, do not marry before your coronation. 
how ridiculous is that? 
and not only is this satoru gojo an evil, conniving, crown-stealing bastard. but he’s charming, a silver tongue wrapped around each and every one of his words. charming, like a prince (blegh) he’s also stupidly attractive. with deep sapphire blue eyes that are gorgeous enough to make the crown jewellers weak in the knees and a smile so sweet it feels like a sugar rush whenever he looks at you. there’s something so unique about the frostiness to his soft white hair, matching his unfairly long lashes — the ones you know girls back home would kill for. 
it angers you to know that you’d been dancing with your rival at your welcome ball, pains you to know that you’ll never forget his slender fingers splayed out against the small of your back to guide your every movement. if you had been back in college (and had a few litres of hard liquor in your system), perhaps gojo would have been the type of guy you’d have snuck into the dorms for a night of fun and an NDA in the morning — your secret signed away from the paparazzi’s keen eyes. 
alas, these are very different circumstances and there’s a lot riding on you being sensible about the situation. yet, satoru proves himself to be a problem every chance that he gets — cornering you in closets with his breath hot against your ear, trapping you against the walls while the ghost of his touch feels like heaven against your skin… on the staircase too, insistent on reminding you of the passionate dance you once shared.
all while you’re set to marry the duke of another country so you can keep your fucking crown (pardon the language, your highness).
suguru geto would be the perfect king consort if you managed not to mess this up. he is warm, where satoru is a flip between disastrously hot and frustratingly cold. he balances you out, a mellowness to your clumsiness whilst understanding your need for a rushed proposal and wedding. raised a gentleman, suguru is mindful of you in every action he takes. he doesn’t stare too long but smiles when you think he’s not looking and he’s a wonder with your grandmother — the parents, too. his family gem (a serpentine, making you feel much like a snake) sits heavy on your ring finger, dazzling under camera flashes at your engagement dinner…. and he recognises duty and honour above anything else too. 
if satoru is your enemy, then guilt is your friend. no matter what either of the men in your life do, you find yourself comparing their every move. when you’re with suguru your mind is away chasing the fairies, imagining the touch of another man who sets your heart alight in a cool blaze — like gasoline trickling through your veins waiting for its candle match. when you’re with satoru, all you can think about is how wrong this is. how geto doesn’t deserve this. but you’re an addict without a cure, and your drug is satoru gojo and you don’t see yourself ever  quitting him.
you're in desperate need of a wake up call and a nicotine patch, the cocky yet lecherous air about him almost acting like a smog in your healthy and capable lungs. sometimes through the fog, you wonder if satoru knows how much he weighs heavy on your mind— though if he did, you’d never hear the end of it. 
the current queen tells you not to worry about the white haired man that’s slowly freezing over the four chambers of your heart. you tell yourself that suguru geto is the only man that you need, one that could help you rule and create a beautiful and better kingdom for many years to come. geto tells you that he loves you, that he can’t wait to marry you in two or three weeks time and you respond with equal (yet, faux) excitement.
perhaps that’s why you find yourself sneaking away from this respectful, loving man to be with the one trying to ruin your life?
why are you following satoru gojo deep into the royal gardens, where the rose bushes are the only witness to your sick and twisted sins?
Tumblr media
your back hits the jagged pattern of tree bark before your brain can catch up — causing a little wet whimper to bubble up on your pinky-peach tainted lips. the flutter of pain just beneath your skin only lasts for a second before it’s replaced by the sensation of satoru’s fingers traversing up the dips and curves of your body. he soothes you where it hurts the most, rough fingertips leaving bruising marks made with affection along your thighs and small of your back while he swallows your sweet gasps — licking into the wet cavern of your mouth to taste you. 
“you’re not even…” his words spill into you, adding fuel to the spark of lust beginning to form a pit in your stomach. “you’re not even attracted to him,” he spews, surging forward like a storm knocking on your door to press his greedy spit slicked lips to yours. his tongue, syrupy and wet, intertwined with your own, filling you up and giving you something to suck on. 
before you can even think of kissing your rival back, he retreats and takes his swollen lips with him — latching onto your neck and weaponizing his teeth against it. you gasp, your angel’s song tipping out into the rose garden while your fingers tangle in silver-moon locks and let him work against you, claiming you just below the neckline of your dress where no one will be able to see. 
except for maybe your fiancé and only god knows how you’ll be able to explain the marks to him tonight. ‘oh you know me, suguru. i’m way too clumsy for my own good.’ you’ll say, all while thinking about how the man after your crown blew your back out at your engagement party. 
you know why satoru’s acting such a fool — taking risks that he wouldn’t normally. the dress you’re wearing, the colour of his eyes, drives him fucking insane. you can’t say that you didn’t ask for this, like it wasn’t on purpose. 
“can’t fucking stand you,” gojo groans against your skin, nose pressed to your collarbone as he inhales the candied notes of your perfume. “been giving me those angel eyes all day. knowing that i can’t take my fucking eyes off of you when you wear that colour, princess.” 
he’s insufferable, but here you find yourself at the mercy of his touch — offering up your body to satoru gojo like a sacrificial lamb as your back arches away from the tree and presses your chest into his eager strawberry tongue. it leaves a slimy track over your neck and dips between the cleavage of your dress while gojo makes his descent down to hell — tasting the shimmering crystals of salt on your skin. 
satoru gojo belongs on his knees. 
kneeling before you with the royal blue tule of your dress between his shaking hands. you can tell he’s trying not to rip it off of you. born to worship you.  mirth weighs down his lashes and desire dances between the navy blue flecks in his sapphire eyes — he needs you so bad it might kill him. from this position he can practically smell how turned on you are, he’d recognise the mouth-watering aroma of your drooling cunt anywhere, slick gathering in the crotch of your barely there panties. 
there’s a depraved, royal treasure hidden between the string of fabric that runs between your juicy pussy lips — swollen and waiting to be devoured by your enemy. not that you’d ever admit that to him. “i think you should be referring to me as your queen.” you manage between ragged breaths, satoru eyeing the way your chest heaves from beneath the bust of your dress. 
instead of responding, his head unceremoniously dips beneath your skirts and he drags a thigh over the width of his broad shoulders. “watch your mouth,” the lord purrs salaciously as he licks up your inner thigh, the vibrations shooting straight to your swollen clit. “let’s remind you of who’s really in charge.” the both of you feel it, the aching throb of your pussy against gojo’s lips as he wedges his face right between your thighs. you can’t help but grind against him in wanton, desperate to be filled up with fingers, tongue whatever your sworn enemy has to offer up to the crown. 
but your warmth and wetness does nothing to coax satoru into tongue fucking his way past your clenching, creaming entrance. rather, he draws his head back just a touch and rubs at your cunt like he loves you, dips his fingers just into your quivering hole and then — smack !
juices run down satoru’s arms as if he’s taken a bite into the fruit that tempted eve while he laughs in awe of just how fucking sloppy you are between your thighs. the spank to your puffy folds makes you jolt in surprise, causing you to scratch your back against the jagged tree bark. 
“gojo!” you squeak in warning as your thighs close around his veiny hand. 
he sticks his tongue into his cheek, smirking in amusement before prying your shaky legs apart. “that’s not quite right, try again for me, princess...” gojo repeats the process, running between your slick folds and spanking you against them when you fail to respond. “you know my name, baby. c’mon it’s easy, i’ll even say it with you. d…d…” 
you refuse to stoop so low, to let demeaning words escape from underneath your tongue but not having satoru’s mouth on you is like torture — just his breath against your cunt is akin to dangling a carrot in front of a starving horse. you know what that pleasure is like, you crave it and you’re not above begging no matter how royal you may be. 
“f-fuck, daddy!” you whinge defiantly, screwing your eyes shut and letting your head fall back against the tree. satoru wastes no more time then, slotting his hot mouth against the entire length of your silken slit. the first thing he does is moan, the vibrations shooting twinges of ecstasy from your clit through the rest of your body and even reaching your head — making the world around you spin. 
the tip of his tongue teases its way past your entrance, squirming around to brush up against pleasure spots your little fingers can’t even reach. “that’s right princess, knew you could do it. you’re not just some stuck up little girl.” the white haired lord praises, drawing back from your quivering hole — connected to you by a string of your glistening slick. 
“shut up, just… put your mouth to good use.” you grunt, your hips canterint down onto gojo’s face to keep him quiet. your fingers take root in his silvery moon locks, dragging the man and his pink tongue onto your sex once more. gojo takes the hint, making your cute little clit his next victim as he rolls it between perfect rows of pearly whites and sends your eyes into the dark depths of your skull. 
the sinful and salacious sensation provides a welcomed distraction from your responsibilities as the crown princess. if your grandmother could see you now, you know that all she’d feel is disappointment— especially if she knew her granddaughter was fucking the biggest threat to the crown. and suguru, your poor fiancé — he was probably stuck mingling with guests he didn’t even know, looking for your eyes in the crowd like he always did. 
shame should be burning through your veins, not the white hot trickle of desire that you’re filled with as satoru slurps your juices from between your fat pussy lips. the needy groans he lets out against you inch down your spine, drown you in stormy waves of lust and you find yourself addicted to the bob of gojo’s head from underneath your tule skirts. you’re just so wet, pouring the royal family’s riches, liquid gold straight into the man’s greedy mouth as he drinks you in.
your nectar glazes his cheeks and chin in a devilish shine, brighter than the crown set to sit atop your head — his mouth barely parts from your ravaged and swollen romping as if he’s married to eating you out, tongue licking you up and down before your juices even have a chance to drip to the ground. you can only imagine what would happen if the press found out, your life would be over and so would satoru’s. but you don’t care, because every second that gojo spends between your thighs dragging you to orgasm is worth it. every single time. 
he grips at your ass, pulling you back onto his tongue as it flickers in and out of you. the whole ordeal is disgusting and delightful and you never want it to end. pleasure mounts high within you, evident in the shakiness of your gripes and grouses, lust laden in its tune. 
“s-satoru…satoru. i’m gonna… g’na fuckin’ cum!” a high pitch squeal tears in your throat like music to gojo’s ears — now working relentlessly to get you off just like you need. he doesn’t care if he’s suffocating, at least he’ll die a happy man between the thighs of a princess. 
he chuckles against your sex. “such a dirty mouth for such a proper lady.” the lord says as if he’s a scolding you.
but you can barely hear him, for static rings in your ears as your body loses the war to your orgasm. your release bubbles up on his tongue like the fresh pop of champagne, while your brain fizzles and clears itself of all logical thought. guilt is replaced by bouts of lust, making you realise that this cycle of avoiding and fucking gojo will never end. you’re too addicted to him and he’s too obsessed with you, as long as things remain that way — sex with him will always be on the agenda. 
you can’t promise yourself, your grandmother or suguru that this will be the last time. 
dopamine dances across gojo’s brain as he drinks in the tangy-honey flavour of your release, letting it splatter against his puffy lips as they encircle your clit to prolong your orgasm. you gush as if you’re a rushing erotic river, spilling into satoru’s earnest mouth while he licks you clean with wanton.
“look at that… oh look at you. cumming for me already.” 
“f-fuck you.”
“fuck me?” he smirks, making your gut lurch with wanton. “fuck you. i’m the one that’s working on it, princess.” satoru slowly rises to his feet, licking a nasty spit-slicked trail from your hole to the cleavage peeking out from underneath your dress. he doesn’t even stand to his full height, his large frame towering over you as he yanks down the front of your dress to lick and suck and play with your breasts until you can’t tell what’s up or down anymore.
his perfect teeth graze a pert nipple which makes you gasp and cry, loosely looping your arms around satoru’s neck while his ravaging mouth works your sensitive breasts, even going as far to swipe his tongue over the spot where each one meets your ribcage. he doesn’t leave any marks, you’re not his to keep. large and rough hands replace the warmth of his mouth on you to toy with your mounds of flesh — pinching and pulling as satoru kisses you senseless. you groan at the taste of your slick on his tongue and salt of your skin as well, tugging him closer so that there’s no space between your heated bodies. 
“don’t cry,” satoru comments softly against your swollen, cherry-bitten lips — cupping your face between his fingers. blinking slowly, you allow your frenzied brain the chance to catch up to reality  and you don’t realise the tears that wet your cheeks until he points them out. why are you even crying? “you’re too pretty for that.” his compliments do nothing to clear the lustful, confused fog settling over your mind like a dark cloud so you follow your body’s instincts and reach for the metal clasp on his belt. 
nimble fingers make their way down the front of gojo’s dress pants and he hisses at the quick pumps of his perfectly hard cock before you’re dragging up your skirts and guiding him towards your entrance. “baby, wait—“
you push his pants down enough to let his erection spring free, pulsing with need and standing at full mast against the cotton blouse covering his tummy. “i need you.” you sniff, dropping your panties to your ankles. “please.” 
the thing about sex with satoru is that it never feels like just sex. he tenderly hikes the meat of your thigh over his slender hips, lets his dribbly, sticky cockhead twitch forward and ease past the salaciously slick barriers of your empty hole, and presses your bodies so close together that you think you might forget how to breathe. satoru makes love to you each and every time — and it’s terrible. 
like eating too much sugar or indulging in a bad smoking habit. you’re not supposed to be in love with him and the way he fucks up into you, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis even with all of the fabric in the way. “don’t cry for him, f-fuck,” the both of you look down, your pupils dilating at the sight of your pussy swallowing his lengthy shaft whole — catching on the ridges of each blue vein spiralling around him. “cry for me, princess. i’m the one that’s ruining you.” 
with his forehead pressed to yours, silver hair matted down by the line of perspiration against it — satoru braces a hand against the tree above your head and sets stream to his passionate thrusts, fluid like water under a bridge. it’s not fair, how wrong this is and how good it feels to have gojo lick over the parts of you he would bite down on if you were his. your pulse point, your neck, the spot just under your ear that’s way too sensitive for your own good. it should be suguru fucking you like this, your fiancé. 
yet, there’s no room for self-loathing and despair between the rough tree and satoru gojo above you. nothing aside for the thick curtain of lust that protects you from prying eyes in the rose garden, floral scents twisting with the raw, aphrodisiac-like smell of sex and sweat while he pounds away at your swollen pussy, grinding his cock wetly against the sweet spots dotted along your ribbed walls. 
“i should put a baby in you,” he says suddenly, just barely audible over the wet pap, pap, pap of your sexes working together. embarrassment burns bright under the surface of your cheeks because you’re that wet and it’s that loud, the remainders of your previous orgasm making it easier for satoru’s cock to glide in and out of you. “leave you with a little gift. a present — reminder of our time together, yeah?” he knows that he’s not making any sense, leaving his confession behind sex and sultry words. he would never admit to how much he loves you, he’s already ruined you enough. he’s already taken more than enough from you too. “i’ll get to the crown either fuckin’ way.” 
satoru talks with his dick and you fucking like it, squeezing the damn daylights out of him. he can barely pull back with you locked down on like that, his seedy tip snug between your ruined folds — clinging into him by viscous ropes of your last orgasm and freshly formed globs of his white hot precum. “you like that, don’t you princess?” he coos down to you condescendingly, picking up the pace of his hips as he rams into you mercilessly. the tree shakes from the force, sprinkling pretty and innocent petals over you both. “you wanna make me a daddy? my queen? give me a little prince or princess.”
“fuck yes, satoru!” nodding your head with wanton, you press yourself into his neck and squeeze him close by the ass cheeks so the only place your lover can go is deeper. you want to be able to feel him in your guts, hot in your womb like an iron rod — anything to forget the trickle of betrayal filling you up like a glass of wine. “i want it, i want it…i want—“
you cut yourself of with an abrasive sob, as you moan your agreements. i want you. you feel the words on the tip of your tongue, drowned out by the slippery sounds of sex and creaking tree trunk. you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you’ve wanted satoru gojo.
but he’s the wrong person, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. 
“i know you do, i know,” you can feel gojo move to slobber over your chest, pacifying his whistle tone whimpers with your nipples bouncing in his mouth. he looks up at you with vacant cerulean eyes that shimmer like the skies above, the crude mix of your arousals slinging at the point at which your bodies join. “tell me how much you love daddy’s cock, princess.” 
he goads because he craves your attention. satoru can feel you slipping from between his fingers, the guilt that rolls off of you in waves as he languidly rams into your cunt. he’s asking a lot of someone who’s too stimulated, too fucked out to speak — your tongue barely staying in your mouth. 
“sato—!”
“c’mon… answer me, fuck, there we go.”
that’s when he hikes you up in his arms, lifting you a little to feverishly thrust up into you — dragging you closer to another high. your nails dig deep into his taut ass, nudging his dick against your g-spot. suguru would never be this rough with you, would never want to fuck you so good that the pleasure hurts.
shaking your head, your eyes glisten but the denial doesn’t stop small streams of arousal from squirting out and webbing against gojo’s soft pubes. “i-i can’t! i don’t—“ satoru bites down on your nipple, hard, cutting through your train of blurry thought. “i love…h-him!” 
you love your fiancé, but you both know that’s a lie.
“yeah, sure you do. that’s why your pussy’s huggin’ my cock so tight. you don’t wanna let me go, baby.” even while he’s a mess for you, your rival still finds it in him to be such an egotistical prick. you can’t even tell him that he’s wrong, because you never ever want to be without satoru, without this immensely overwhelming feeling of ecstasy fluttering through your entire body. it’s all too much, he’s too much, stretching you wide and filling you with the love (and cum) you should be getting from suguru. 
thunder cracks above your head, lightning flashes through the trees as if the higher power up above is bearing witness — growing distraught at your sins. it’s not long before the heavens open up on you both and your sweaty, sex slicked bodies are doused in rain. but it doesn’t stop you, doesn’t stop satoru from dragging down your bottom lip to lovingly spit into your mouth. 
he kisses you as if it’s not enough, rocking his hips into you so he can bully your insides and mark them with his pre. “bet he’s lookin’ for you right now, hm? his precious wife to be…drenched in my cum ‘n drenched in the rain.” satoru heaves, letting the patter of the rain drown out the sound of his tightening balls slapping against your ass. “bet he wishes he could fuck you like i do.” 
you can’t tell if it’s the tears of guilt and longing or the rain that blurs your vision. “h-he doesn’t get to!” you cry like a dirty porn-star, hardly becoming of a soon to be queen. “o-only you!” 
“only me, hm? i’m flattered.” he seems elated, hiding his flushed face and happy smile in the junction between your neck and shoulder. his wet hair tickles your skin. “too bad he doesn’t know his princess comes used and abused between her pretty legs, huh?”
the rain is cold against your skin, seeping through your clothes, ruining your makeup — but the way satoru licks up your hot streaky tears and the droplets of water against your skin as if to sooth you… the way he does it fills you with warmth. 
your limbs become heavy from your water-logged clothes and exhaustion, your whole body slumped against satoru’s strength but you still manage to rake your nails down his back as if you can’t be any closer. gojo doesn’t let your hips run from his either.  his mind races, stuck on the idea of asking you to run away with him because he can’t just let you go back to geto. not again. 
he can’t let you marry someone you’re not in love with. 
it would be selfish of him to ask you to stay, even when you wrap your legs around him and have him plug up your tiny little hole with sticky white. he sees it in your eyes how much you care for him, even through the rain. he’s ruining you, from the inside out, knocking the crown from your head and he hates it.
“daddy loves this pussy,” he wishes for the moment to last forever, but you’re already so close — crying from every hole, suffocating his throbbing cock. neither of you can hold back. “he loves you. i love you.”
the confession nearly tears your world in two — but it’s all you need to hear before everything comes crashing down on you. “i-i love you!” you tell him, wailing the words loud and proud as you release on him for a second time, gushing obscene amounts against gojo’s tummy smooshed up on your clit. “sato—! satoru! cum with me, cum inside me!” scratching down his back and screwing your eyes shut, you tilt your head up to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. 
the taste of salt on your cupid’s bow throws gojo over the edge too — his cockhead pours viscous white directly into your womb. “fuuuck, you’re so good princess…” and even though you know you should tell him to pull out, you don’t want him too. you want his baby, want his cum, want him always. even if that’s greedy of you.“fuckin’ take it…take all of me. all of that cum’s for you.” he slurs, beyond brainless.
lewd clapping noises echo between your bodies like the thunder up above as satoru fucks you through the rest of your highs, nose nudging your cheeks tenderly to soothe your tears. moaning, and crying against one another’s swollen lip. when his slow grinds come to a stop and your breathing recovers, the white haired lord gently sets you back in the ground — tenderly helping you to fix your drenched clothes back into place. 
your thighs are completely bruised and his back is completely torn up. the last marks you’ll ever leave with each other.
“so about—“
“we… we can’t do this anymore, satoru.” you say almost immediately, shaky as if you’re in the verge of panic. 
for the first time since you started doing this, sneaking off with one another, gojo notices the glint  on your ring finger. and you feel the very same weight of that ring. 
he shrugs you off, pulling up his pants and smirking. “that’s what you said last time—
“no satoru, i mean it now. we can’t.” it’s like you’ve come to your senses, realised the gravity of it all and what’s at stake. thirty days to get married, thirty days to become queen. “i’m going to become queen, your queen, in a matter of weeks and to do that i need to be married to him. i can’t mess this up. we have to stop.”
“but you don’t even want him,” he growls like a petulant child, roaring above the rain that cascades down on you both. “you want me. i want you. who gives a fuck about anything else?”
“duty gives a fuck! i have to marry him!”
throwing his hands up in defeat, satoru steps towards you, loud and intimidating, and you step back towards the tree. “you can’t even say his fucking name.” 
“his name is suguru geto and i will marry him because you forced me to.” you spit, going toe to toe with him — chest heaving but tight from your heart break. “if you and your stupid higher ups had just stayed out my way. maybe there could have been a chance for us. but they didn’t and here we are and duty freaking calls, gojo.” 
you storm off shortly after, be before he can see you cry again (for real this time). from his place hidden in the royal gardens, gojo watches sullenly as you approach your grandmother and fiancé — the elder queen disappointed in your current state and suguru clearly worried that the rain might make you catch a cold. 
the perfect alibi to cover up the fact that you’d just fucked satoru gojo. 
but the entire time, you never look back. 
you don’t even look at gojo — and  that’s how he knows you meant it. you always look back, always look for him in the crowd. 
the knowledge hits him like a strike of lightning. he’s royally fucked up — you’re marrying for the crown, all because of him. and there’s no room for loving when you’ve got the weight of the nation on your shoulders.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
9K notes · View notes
kingkonoha · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 always calls you his girl. He rambles on and on about you to his friends — talking about you constantly at parties or during sporting events — and he never fails to call you his girl.
“Yeah, my girl and I just got back from Miami, we went there for her birthday…”
“No, my girl’s not into that kind of music, she likes…”
“I gotta go, my girl’s waiting for me to come home for dinner…”
One day, when you ask him about the nickname, the taller man smiles down at you happily. His cheeks turn pink because he just adores you so much, he can’t help but become giddy when he thinks about his feelings for you.
“I call you that because that’s what you are. You’re my girl, right? Sometimes I just gotta remind myself that you’re actually mine. You actually chose me.” Pulling you in for a hug, he sighs with contentment. “And I just love my girl so much. You’re my baby.”
Tumblr media
8K notes · View notes
sugar-coated-slut · 28 days
Text
𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬, 𝐲𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐞𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐦 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! gojo’s pov, he has a huge size kink, manhandling, y'all are all living that married life, oral, teasing, praise, satoru is a soft love sick teasing sweetheart all for you some cock sucking
𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧! size any jjk guy
Oreo: size kink or BRRRRRRRRR
Tumblr media
You’re adorable struggling on your tip toes stretching your hand out for his boxes of chocolate. All of them stacked perfectly at his eyes level.
Satoru snickers when you jump. The blood rushes to his cock when you jiggle from the impact of landing. You’re so soft, squishy, short, and perfect.
You turn around with a scalding glare. The denial of chocolate getting to you. Your whine is adorable, “You did this on purpose!”
Satoru smirks closing the gap quickly with his long strides. Cornering you against the counter which he grabs to trap you between his muscular arms.
He croons, “And what are you gonna do about it?” You have to look up at him, he feels so much bigger, stronger. The feeling is making the blood rush into his cock.
You turn around in his arms, looking up at the sweet with forlorn. “Ignore you and climb the counters.” Bumping him with your soft butt. Satoru barely budges, grabbing your hips to lift you off the floor with ease.
He smirks and insists, “Ignore me then.” He tilts his head back, and sits you down. He sucks on your cunt’s soft lips through your underwear, loudly groaning.
Satoru wants you on your back looking up at him with tears in your beautiful eyes. While his big cock bullies your soft little cunt into a sore mess.
You taste better than the sweets you’re trying to get. And when your voice trembles his cock throbs. He tries to stuff his tongue into your cunt with your soft underwear in the way. It just barely gives letting him glide the tip of his tongue in.
With his six eyes, he can see the frustration melting from your beautiful face. A soft expression of pleasure replacing it. He can see the desperation in your gorgeous eyes.
Rocking your hips, gently grinding your soft cunt on his face. “Satoru please.” You reach back grabbing his soft hair, tugging. All that bratty attitude you had when he walked in is crumbling so easily. It’s making Satoru’s cock and balls ache with a need for your soft, submissive, short ass.
Satoru lifts you off his face. Admiring how the thin fabric clings to your lips giving him a beautiful outline of your soft cunt. “You’re so perfect to fuck into a mess.” Satoru bites your ass, your soft cunt making his cock twitch. He dying to be in you, aching to feel your soft, wet, and warm cunt cumming because of his cock.
Satoru smirks, urging you, “Grab your snack mama while I'm eating mine.” You lean forward pushing your back back when he sits you back down on his face.
Satoru sucks on your soft clit and groans. You’re so easy to throw around, he loves how he can manhandle you. He can fold you in two and fuck his long cock into your squishy guts.
It gets him off on how you look up at him, trusting him to take care of your cunt.
You grab the top shelf, “Forget the snack I want you to eat me out! Take my underwear off! I want to feel your soft tongue.” He lifts you off his face and sets you down.
Satoru glides his hands underneath your shirt. His shirt looks better on you. He hooks his thumbs into your underwear, you have to look up at him, waiting for him to say something.
Furrowing your brows, shifting your hips, his cock grinding against the middle of your back. “Satoru why are you so quiet? Every other time you have something to say.” Pre cum smears inside his underwear, making a wet mess.
He glides your underwear down for you to step out of. He pushes them to the side, curling two thick fingers into your soft cunt. He loves his he knows you’re body better than his own.
Your soft lips part with a sweet moan. He has to lean down and kiss you. Pouring every ounce of carnal hunger into it. Your soft tongue rubbing his has him thinking about how well you suck his cock and balls.
He pulls away, leaving you breathless, wondering. “Can't I admire my beautiful wife?” He kisses your forehead. “I love how I can call you my beautiful wife, my sweet wife, my darling little wifey.” He grabs your hand, kissing your ring.
Your soft cunt soaking his ring as he fucks his thick fingers into you. “Love how she squelches for me, letting me know how good I'm making her feel.” Letting your hand go.
He pulls your shirt up for you to hold in your mouth. “Good girl.” He softly plays with your nipple, massaging them with two thick fingers. “That’s it little mama lemme feel your soft pretty self cumming on my thick fingers.”
You’re so close. Satoru begs “Please mama cum for me. You’re perfect for me.” You drop your shirt with a moan of his name, cumming on his fingers. Your sweet juices trickle down your beautiful soft thighs.
Slowly gliding his finger out, sticking them into his mouth. Satoru groans whilst sucking his fingers clean. You turn around and keel, massing Satoru through his underwear. “You’re soaking through handsome.” You lick the wet spot on his boxers, tasting his sweet pre-cum.
He groans, “I love everything about your short n’ soft ass. With my six eyes I can't see myself with anyone else.” You slip his underwear down, kissing his head, the soft feeling of your lips on his head is heavenly.
Satoru groans when you glide his cock deep into your mouth. “All you’re, lemme show you by worshiping your sweet cunt.” The years of practice make your mouth dangerous. He can't bring himself to pull away as you deepthroat him.
Satoru whines when you glide him out of your mouth. Right away he wants to fuck the cocky, playful smile off your face. He grabs you, throws you over his shoulder, slaps your ass, and stuffs two fingers in.
Gliding his fingers out and tasting you. He wonders, "Do you have any plans tomorrow morning? Because you aren't walking for a little while after tonight."
oreo's m.list!💕
7K notes · View notes