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fiance! naoya x paediatrician! fem reader x single uncle! satoru
summary: Your days had long turned into an endless grey stream of monotony, brightened only by children's smiles at the hospital. Soon, your life would be subjected to loneliness in the golden cage of the Zenin Estate as you agreed to be Naoya's wife; the weight of his love had already burdened you to the point you no longer believed there was any left.
And then you met Satoru Gojo.
Your biggest curse. And your greatest remedy.
tags: AU, medical setting, heavy angst, toxic relationships, messy feelings, emotional abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, misogyny (Naoya is a prick), reader struggles with her self-image, slow healing, falling in love, yearning. eventual smut and happy ending, i promise! we just have to get here. some specific tags will be included in the parts, if any. this chapter has talks about cancer that might be triggering. yearning gojo! suggestive!
word count: 14.7k
gojo's art by @/mossmaybe1. all dividers are mine.
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part 2
Naoya became simply relentless after a single smirk from Gojo had wounded his pride.
The nurses' smiles, which had gradually lost the honeyed sweetness Naoya usually bathed in, now turned more strained and fueled his resentment even more. The abruptly quietened voices, when he happened to drop by, only added another match to the growing bitterness. Each hushed whisper and stolen glance served as disguised insults. Even if that just happened to be a coincidence.
Of course, Naoya didn't deal particularly gracefully with that. Of course, you couldn't persuade your fiancé that he was reading too much into this. Of course, the main target of his scarred ego was you.
You tried to empathise with Naoya, really did. Each attempt, though, resulted in yet another scar on your jarred heart.
"Have you learnt any before talking to your future wife, huh?"
Gojo's words flared brighter and brighter in your mind. Stirred the dangerous thoughts you tucked away somewhere deep. Called to a version of you, who had slowly withered in the golden cage of Naoya's love. And bit by bit, ember by ember, came to reignite your flame.
Naoya's persistence in parading you as his beloved fiancée — nothing close to fondness guided him — had you feel more like a showcased pony. Usually, your scene would narrow to the halls of opulent mansions; now you had to perform at the hospital as well. It wasn't anything unusual, but earlier, you foolishly believed that place to be your oasis.
A little, at least.
Now Naoya tainted it as well.
But when Naoya was relentless, Gojo was surprisingly…gentle. And no, during all the time you happened to know Gojo, his gentleness didn't startle you: you saw it in his gaze, directed at Megumi, noticed in the amused curve of his lips as he listened to Tsumiki's rambles, and observed in the reassuring talks to other people at the hospital.
Gojo's gentleness towards you shocked you the most. You spent so much time in a firm belief that affection and ruthlessness walked hand in hand that his gestures simply left you flabbergasted.
It wasn't much, but for you, every brought order from the very same cafe you visited, every carefully wrapped pastry at your table after exhausting night shifts, every simple, yet lovely bouquet and every quiet conversation in the walls of the hospital, struck you like a force of nature you weren't able to withstand.
The insecurities in your head, bearing Naoya's taunting smirks and mocking voices, whispered with casual cruelty that it was a trap. That you willingly set yourself up for humiliation in front of another man.
Grip tightening on yet another small gift from Gojo, you didn't deny the voice. Even if it turned out to be true, Gojo granted you a small opportunity to see yourself not as broken and damaged as Naoya painted you.
You always made sure to hide Gojo's presents before Naoya would even lay his eyes on them. A single glimpse was enough for the violent storm of his bitter words to rage. Usually, he would let silence torment you — but lately, you just happened to quietly withdraw into your shell. A carefully constructed look of detachment on your face, instead of the usual distress, caused Naoya to grit his teeth with irritation and carve cruelty deeper in your heart.
All of that took place only behind the closed doors of either your office or your bedroom, with no one to witness his true colours. At the hospital, Naoya masterfully played the role of an attentive and completely smitten fiancé, trying to erase humiliation from Gojo.
He never admitted it, of course. Especially to you, a stupid little dove, not aware that his attempts only stain him in more disgrace.
Though you were quite surprised that Naoya's games didn't affect Gojo in the slightest: his gentleness ended right where Naoya's pretension started. The rumours of yet another heated meeting of the board reached you more often. Not to mention their talks in the department halls, rather resembling deadly duels than polite conversations.
You were hurrying from the pediatric intensive care unit, and just on your way to the radiology department, the sound of heavy steps approaching stalled you. Swallowing hard, you stilled completely, pace halted: you had long memorised Naoya's steps. Telling his mood by them was one of the habits you picked up very early in your relationship.
Light and a spring to his walk? You could release a breath you had been holding and attempt to have some sweet talk.
Forceful and almost aggressive, carrying the air of menace in each move? Oh, it was time for you to zip your mouth and blend with the walls until he would become tolerable of your presence.
Judging by the shift in the air, it was just the second instance.
Ducking your head, you hovered around the corner. The steps stilled as well. Naoya's voice boomed in annoyance across the hall as he barked some orders into his phone. You already pitied a poor soul.
Then, a sudden fresh, icy scent hit your nostrils, jolting you. A low, smooth voice purred just above you.
"Who are we spying on, Doc?"
Light pink immediately painted your cheeks. Your grip on the folder tightened as your heartbeat hammered lowly in your chest. Stealing an unsure glance at Gojo, who watched you with an amused smile, you reluctantly shrugged.
"I have to grab some scans from the radiology dept."
Gojo lazily arched one brow and chuckled, "Is that so tiresome?"
He leaned on the wall with effortless confidence. Despite all odds, he somehow soothed the ever-brewing anxiety within you. The corners of your mouth twitched with a light grin first, followed by quiet laughter.
"It's either walking on a rainbow or to the Temple of Doom. Depends on the nurses' mood. Honestly, can't blame them."
At first, he snorted at your little joke — your blush only deepened — and then his chuckle dissolved into a quiet sigh.
"Yeah, I heard about it. Kinda baffles me that it's so overlooked. Even more than your department. Which is already insane."
You didn't know what to answer, so you just settled on an unsure shrug.
"Anyway," Gojo easily pushed himself up and jerked his chin towards the damned hall. "I'll walk you there. Just to make sure you wouldn't encounter Yamamba or Jorogumo on your way. That hospital tends to be scary sometimes."
Your smile faltered for a moment. Of course, he noticed it and furrowed his brows slightly.
"Is something wrong?"
Your shoulders tightened before dropping at the confusion in his voice. God, you didn't want to pit Gojo and Naoya against each other again — considering all their clashes inevitably resulted in a show for everyone around — but the steps sounded clearer and clearer, so you simply breathed out.
"My fiancé."
Confusion in Gojo's gaze slowly yet surely hardened into an icy anger as a flicker of irritation crossed his handsome face.
"Seems like we can't escape Hanako-kun even here."
You chewed on your inner cheek not to burst out laughing, especially as Naoya's figure came into sight. He slowly stepped towards you with an assessing, sharp gaze that immediately turned sour, seeing Gojo next to you.
"Ah, Satoru-kun. Learning new routes here? There is so much more in that hospital besides the paediatrics department," Naoya's words dripped with disdain; judging by his scornful smirk, he was completely satisfied with that supposedly witty remark. "Don't worry, you will get used to it eventually. If anything, you can always ask me."
Your eyes briefly flickered to Gojo, who didn't even bother to look anything other than bored. The sarcasm in his voice would even reach the deaf ears.
"As much as I am tempted, gotta refuse. Less than a month here, yet I have never got lost." Gojo lazily dragged his gaze to Naoya, eyeing him up and down. His smirk sharpened. "Unlike a certain someone."
The humiliation lurking behind Naoya's stare immediately caught your attention, covered by cold indifference.
But you knew better. That short moment gave you an unexpected sense of joy.
Until Naoya's glare pierced you deep.
"And what is my little dove doing here?" he whispered unctuously. Though disguised as courtesy, the resentment in his voice had never been clearer.
Instinctively, you dropped your gaze and curled your shoulders. Studying Naoya's polished oxfords, you heard an abrupt, shaky exhale — as if someone was fighting his desires. However, that tiny shift in the air was somehow enough to stir dimmed embers of disobedience. Gojo's jokes, amused grins and the effortless confidence gave you tiny drops of courage.
"I was showing Gojo a shortcut to the radiology department." Your voice was quiet yet steady. The surprise on his face was indescribable. "Kamo-sama inquired about its stock-tacking. Right, Gojo?"
You sincerely hoped he wouldn't interfere with your flimsy excuse, at least. But no. He even played along. Of course, he did.
"Yep. The old man said grid encasements and cassette holders should've been renewed like yesterday. I decided to have a quick look."
Naoya's eyes narrowed as he begrudgingly listened to Gojo's explanation, settling on you with a sharp doubt.
"That so?"
Gojo's huff cut through the suffocating silence. "Of course it is. Don't you believe your future wife?"
The muscle in Naoya's jaw jumped in irritation. He threw a glance at you — harsh, piercing through your lie — but you forced yourself not to look away and stared at him, unblinking.
Something in your gaze might've persuaded him, because after that endless silent interrogation, Naoya eventually stepped away. The air instantly seemed lighter. You swallowed.
"Oh, I do not have any doubts in my darling dove," Naoya's voice dropped to a low, menacing whisper. You braced yourself for another sharp glance or harsh remark — but it never came. He was glaring daggers at Gojo, whose grin became even wider. Taunting. Provoking.
"But you, dear Satoru-kun…I would advise you to stop mingling with the taken women or —"
"Or else what?" Gojo unceremoniously interrupted Naoya. His tone, albeit smooth, sent shivers down your spine — a threat wrapped in silk. The dancing mirth in his eyes slowly hardened, forcing your eyes wide open with terrifying clarity.
That man was dangerous.
Not in a grotesque, showcased way Naoya usually tried to trick anyone. No.
That towering height, that air of confidence, slowly slipping into something darker, into something almost vicious, that danger veiled in amused glances and wide smirks whispered precautiously to run.
Maybe your fiancé came to the same conclusion.
His composure wavered for a moment. If there was anything even Naoya surrendered to, it was power.
"Ah, Satoru-kun. Let's not dwell on it anymore, shall we? I trust another heir would never do anything to drive a wedge between our respectable clans. Am I right?"
Did Gojo decipher Naoya's message?
Stunned, you slowly dragged your gaze up to Gojo, only to see him already staring right at you with intensity that trapped your breath.
"Never even thought about it, Zenin."
His gaze softened ever so subtly, allowing you to see that blue iridescence shimmering, as another realisation dawned on you.
Gojo carried that menacing aura every time he stumbled into Naoya. Yet with you?
He was anything but.
Your heart fluttered like a bird inside the cage as a fleeting thought — treacherous even in a mere suggestion that his politeness, maybe even sympathy, had grown into something bigger — crossed your mind.
No, no, no, no, no. It couldn't be. Impossible. Totally impossible.
You quietly excused yourself, earning two surprised glances, and hurried into your office. You desperately needed space and silence, without being suffocated by the tension your presence had brought.
However, deep inside, you were more than aware.
That you couldn't get away from Gojo.
And didn't want to.
⋆˚࿔
Just like that day.
The edges of the scan wrinkled from the tightness of your grip, but you couldn't force yourself to loosen it, even just for a tad. You stared. Stared and stared. Memorising the blurry contours of the irregular mass inside the brain. Squinting, you could imagine the mass contorting, deforming, and devouring someone who used to be a human. A person. Someone beloved. Someone adored. Someone cherished and treasured.
A kid.
Pain settled in your chest with a weight so heavy you couldn't find any strength in you to simply breathe in. The world closed in on you as you stepped out of the pathology lab. All the sounds around — distant laughs, loud orders, wheelchairs rolling — came muffled. As if your head were underwater. Eyes stung from all the unshed pain, and soon the ache carved into your cheeks in pools of sorrow.
Legs weakening, you managed to find the nearest bench and slumped on it without any care.
People passed you: little patients, their concerned parents, dutiful nurses and busy doctors, occasionally pausing to check on you or murmur greetings. You remained still.
Just as cold and unmoving as that little 6-year-old girl with glioblastoma might be soon.
And now you had to muster some courage to come to her parents. People who thought the world of her. People who spent days and nights by her bed in the PICU, holding the small, pale hand and whispering sweet nothings to just see their little angel's smile. Turning fainter and fainter with each day.
Their faces, full of fragile hope and weak belief for the better, flashed behind your eyelids, instantly turning into masks of devastation.
Life and death were just two sides of the same coin. And playing with them always meant walking on a thin line.
Another tear managed to escape, drawing down a sorrowful path. You didn't even know how much time you spent in your own thoughts, but no matter how far you tried to run, you couldn't flee from your destiny.
You wiped your cheek with the back of your hand. Forcing your legs to move, they weakened instantly as you heard a familiar voice.
"Oh, hi, Doc, I was just thinking about —," your quiet sniffle stole all Gojo's words away. He walked closer and slowly kneeled before you. "Are you crying? Did something happen?"
Instantly regretted it, grimacing inwardly. Of course, something happened!
His gaze hesitantly drifted over your face — red nose and puffy eyes — but a strange heaviness etched into your features almost punched him right in the gut.
"What happened?" Gojo breathed out and gingerly reached to graze your trembling fingers. Your eyelashes fluttered as you took a sharp exhale, nodding towards the scan in your hand.
He wasn't a doctor by any means, but recognising a suspiciously shaped circle in the brain was certainly within his skills.
Your hollowed whisper only confirmed the worst.
"Brain tumour. 6-year-old girl."
All the colours left his face. His heart sank to the depths inside.
Tsumiki was just 6 years old. Megumi a year younger.
His throat suspiciously tightened.
He couldn't even imagine the pain the girl's parents must endure. The girl, too. He himself couldn't have gone through that for a second time. Watching the person you hold so dear gradually wither, taking all the joy in the world with them. Seeing life slowly fade away in an already dulled gaze, not able to do anything.
Words seemed clumsy, heavy and useless. However, Gojo forced himself to heave them out.
"I am so sorry."
You cut him off with an abrupt shake of your head. Guilt rolled in a gigantic wave, coming in a shattered, fragile breath. "Don't be. That's what I should say to her parents. Maybe if I were more attentive or — "
"Hey. None of that."
Gojo's tone suddenly turned sharp. Lifting your gaze, you blinked in surprise as he sat beside you on the bench — warm and comforting.
"It's not your fault. Not hers, not anyone's. That shit just happens."
Deep down, you were completely aware of that, of course. But remorse stole any rational thought away — a black plague trapping you in sackcloth and ashes. Being a kids' doctor wasn't always about loud laughs, toothy grins and quiet coos. Sometimes it came with a tragedy of a faint smile, a weak whisper and a trembling hold, leaving an everlasting scar; each of them engraved into your bones.
That was quite a burden to carry. Your shoulders might've bent under its weight, but never had you voiced your frustrations. Never had you let anyone look past your friendly expression. Never had your warmth coldened.
Sometimes the world slowly faded away, forcing you to face the treacherous thoughts, all alone. Like today.
Only you weren't alone now.
Gojo didn't say anything after that. Just sat beside you — his presence gradually calmed you, and anchored in reality. Allowed you that small but essential moment of weakness.
The silence stretched endlessly, as if it were just the two of you in that hospital, until Gojo spoke up so quietly, you might as well have imagined the next words.
"My sister. Megumi's and Tsumiki's mom. She died of cancer a year ago."
The bitterness of the confession twisted a sharp knife in your chest. Gojo's words sounded distant, hollowed; his usual mask of amusement and joy slipped off, offering you a peek at the soul inside.
Fragile and broken.
You didn't dare to interrupt, hanging on to Gojo's every word with breath bated.
"Breast cancer. The terminal stage, we found out too late. Metastasis in her lungs, went to the bones, and —," his voice suddenly crumpled at the last word.
"And the brain," he concluded with a quiet sigh. "She's withered in a month. Refused all the chemo, because —"
"Didn't want everyone to remember her like that?"
Throat clogging up, you felt a sharp sting of pain hooking in your flesh. Gojo went completely rigid. You didn't think of anything better than hesitantly sliding your hand down and squeezing Gojo's wrist in sympathy. His pulse drummed heavily beneath your fingers, surprisingly delicate, and you pressed soothing circles on the skin with your thumb.
"I am so sorry, Satoru."
Again, without even trying, you acknowledged his grief. Lent your shoulder.
Gojo used to keep this part of him locked, walled up to the point he sometimes wondered if his sister truly lived. Or if her existence shrank to the endless agony, devouring her from inside.
Truth be speaking, it was necessary at that point: he couldn't let himself dwell on that too much. Not with all the funeral, adoption papers, and two lost kids on his hands to raise.
Yet you managed to worm your way between his walls and take some pain away. Even just a little.
Even if he hadn't ever asked.
A shudder ran through his body at your soft touch. Slowly, he unclenched his fist and intertwined his fingers with yours. Your palm was warm and pleasant — no wonder, these hands held the people's treasures.
Gojo let out a bitter chuckle, finally turning to look into your eyes. Soft and unguarded, they held you captive in their calm waves.
"I figured it out after some time," you admitted hesitantly as the storm between you quieted.
His brows flew in surprise, but almost instantly, an amused grin tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Of course you did. Well, why didn't you say anything?"
Now it was your turn to stare at Gojo in surprise. "Why would I? It's none of my business."
And as you muttered these words, a wave of self-consciousness swallowed you. Dropping your gaze to the scan, you mentally berated yourself, not even aware of Gojo's smile softening.
"I don't want to go there. Am I a coward, Gojo?"
Brows furrowed, he slowly shook his head.
"No, you are not. And you know why? Because I know you are gonna do that anyway. Courage is about doing things while you are scared."
Your hand stilled completely in Gojo's hold.
"Courage is about doing things while you are scared."
A tight ring that seemed to grip your lungs loosened a bit, allowing you to breathe. A small smile bloomed on your lips.
"I…have never thought about it."
"You should talk to me more, then. I'll gladly assist."
You huffed under your breath at his little joke and wiped your nose, sighing, "Gods, I hate to cry at work."
"You're not a robot, Doc. Everyone is allowed to have a break. Especially with the news like that," Gojo pointed at the scan, and the suffocating heaviness returned.
Begrudgingly, you loosened your grip on Gojo's palm, already missing its warmth, and murmured, arranging the files again, "You don't think I am weak?"
"Is that a day of stupid questions? Sorry, I wasn't ready."
Despite the heaviness, you managed a light chuckle.
"I am serious."
"Me too. You have a big heart, that's all. Isn't that a good thing for paediatricians?"
Your grin turned bitter when you recalled Naoya's dismissiveness towards your tears.
"I suppose."
Neither of you moved to leave: on the contrary, something in Gojo's gaze shifted — a blue sea darkening into a wild ocean — and he forced himself to mutter as calmly as possible.
"Don't listen to him."
You dragged a bewildered gaze to him. How?…
"It's all written over your face, Doc."
Right.
The mention of your fiancé ruined the tranquillity between you. You worried your bottom lip and shifted closer to rest your head on Gojo's broad shoulder.
He stilled, not even daring to startle you with some clumsy word. Or move. Or breath.
"I am sorry I didn't tell you about Naoya."
Gojo slowly turned, and his soft murmur graced your skin in the lightest of touches.
"You don't have to apologise to me. I understand."
"Not for this. Not for anything."
Heart skipping a beat, you mirrored his move and stared up at Gojo wordlessly. He gingerly reached to tuck the hair strand behind your ear. His thumb brushed along your shell, erupting a wave of goosebumps.
The lump in your throat had grown bigger. You swallowed and parted your lips to ask Gojo a thing he wouldn't ever be able to hold to.
"Can we be friends, at least?"
Something flashed across his features and hid behind the azure of his gaze — so quick, you couldn't even decipher it — before his lips stretched into a grin. Too wide for your liking.
"Of course."
⋆˚࿔
"Would you like to have anything else?"
The waitress's voice pulled you out of your thoughts, mind a little bit too hazy with a veil of alcohol. Blinking, you slowly shifted your gaze from the sunset simmering in your glass to the lady. Her face was an epitome of calm; looking closer, you could've seen the hints of sympathy in her eyes when you wordlessly shook your head.
No wonder.
The restaurant, undoubtedly elegant and chic, opened its doors to even more patrons at that hour. Faint sounds of the piano carried light chuckles and distant murmurs from the tables, where creams of the creams of Tokyo casually decided the fates of hundreds as the rivers of champagne glimmered lustrously under the soft light.
Well, despite his own lack of class, Naoya had always chosen the best places.
Chin resting in your palm, you bitterly observed one couple, led by a charming hostess, being escorted to a private booth. Diamonds adorning the lady's neck caught the flashing glints of a chandelier with every move, but your eyes remained glued to the hand on the small of her back and the loving, almost worshipful gaze of her man.
She was really rich, you thought.
Because all the time you had been sulking on your own in that fine establishment, or whatever fancy way that place preferred to be called, the only gazes you caught were full of sympathy with hints of pity.
Nevertheless, all of them blended into a scorching mess of embarrassment that your darling fiancé granted you with. Seeing the fleeting glances of other patrons morph into bewilderment and even surprise at the sight of you, elegantly dressed at the neatly arranged table — yet completely alone — burned the stamp of humiliation even more fiercely on your skin.
With a deep sigh, you checked the phone once again. Nothing but a barrage of your messages indifferently left on "delivered". Dozens of calls with no answer.
Frankly, you didn't even know why you kept waiting. Maybe it was a faint sparkle of hope that Naoya wouldn't miss your anniversary. Or a whip of fear that glued you to the chair.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but your reservation order is almost over."
Yet again, you were so deep in your thoughts that you didn't even notice anything. The traces of sympathy in your waitress's tone only brought more misery.
"I see. Well," you offered her a strained smile. "Please bring a bill then."
"Of course. Cash or card?"
"Card."
The waitress nodded eagerly, happy to please you at least somehow, when her eyes suddenly widened, and a faint blush crept to her cheeks.
Brows knitted in confusion, you slowly turned — maybe some celebrity walked in — only to freeze in your place.
"Doc?"
Oh.
Oh.
Well, the Universe certainly had a shitty sense of humour.
And you could've almost heard its ugly snicker, looking up right into the face of the man who sent your pulse violently hammering after your fiancé stood you up.
In every other instance, you would've laughed at the irony. But now you wished the floor would open, swallow you whole, hellish flames to surge and devour you.
Anything but hear murmurs around rising in volume. Seeing the stunned look on Gojo's face.
God, he looked good.
Even in that place, full of elegantly dressed patrons, Gojo looked insanely handsome. The always-present sunglasses rested on the top of his head, and his lips were curled in an amused grin. He was talking to another tall man, with long black hair and sharp eyes — but the mirth in his gaze melted into warmth as he took you in.
Just as you screamed inwardly what the hell he was doing here, out of all restaurants in Tokyo, and feverishly scrambled for the right words to greet Gojo, he tapped the other man on the shoulder and murmured something. The guy only hummed and stepped away with a knowing wink.
The waitress bowed to him and babbled, the notepad pressed tightly to her chest, "Good evening, Gojo-san! How could I help you?"
"Evening, Yumi. Nah, it's nothing, I just dropped by to check on something," Gojo sent the waitress a polite grin and nodded towards your table. "Write this lady's order off. It's on me."
Great. What was going on now?
Flustered, you finally found your voice, "No-no, you don't have to!"
Your small joke only earned a pointed glance from Gojo.
"That's all, Yumi. Thank you."
As the waitress retreated, Gojo took a chair in front of you. You feigned a deep interest in the table's cloth, twiddling with a napkin, before mustering the courage to speak up.
"Nice to see you, Gojo."
"Likewise. You look…" Gojo paused, pondering over the right word. His eyes wandered over your form: your hair cascaded in mesmerising rolls, an elegant dress hugged you like a glove, offering a peek at your decolletage, and the faint whiff of your usual perfume was enough for his heart to skip a beat. "Gorgeous."
You stilled immediately. Compliments, as sincere as they might sound, always left a bitter taste. Especially from someone like Gojo. That man managed to look stunning in a simple dress shirt — especially in a simple dress shirt — while you felt out of place in any exquisite gown.
Murmuring "thank you", you forced yourself to look up and meet Gojo's gaze. The unexpected curiosity caught you off guard. Still, you managed to utter.
"Didn't expect to see you here, honestly. You are meeting someone, too?"
That man with dark hair? Or some fancy date? Probably a date. Who were you kidding? A man like him certainly dated someone.
Wait, what if that man was his date?
Your shy question and nervous demeanour only melted his warmth into something softer — a dangerous kind of fondness. The one that knocked all the air from the lungs and stripped off any facade.
"Oh, no, I was just meeting my friend, and then one of the suppliers called and —"
"Suppliers?"
"Yeah? Wait, you don't know?"
That was the second time you were completely clueless with Gojo — a feeling you were long used to — but now you felt totally uncomfortable. You slowly pierced Gojo's questioning, the waitress's eagerness towards him, and him handling your bill with ease.
"That's my restaurant."
The flame of shame seared through you and slammed into your chest with such a force that it left you dizzy. All the blood rushed to your face as you stared at Gojo, devastatingly mortified. You opened your mouth to say something.
Nothing came up. Nothing but a humiliating admission that you had been stood up.
On your anniversary. By your future husband. And just so the man you sheepishly allowed yourself to daydream about, and whose face looked at you from the pages of your sketchbook, saw you breaking apart.
At his restaurant.
All you wanted to do was disappear. Not to see Gojo's eyes filling with pity, too. Just cease to exist in this quiet world of luxury and elegance, where every clank of the cutlery and pop of some expensive Rosé Dom Pérignon silently mocked you.
Tears blurred your vision to the point you barely saw Gojo anymore. You croaked some apology and stormed out of that place. A cloakroom attendant helped you with the coat, since your hands were shaking to such an extent that you could barely put it on.
A cold rush of the wind already grabbed you without any mercy, tousled your hair, and kissed your cheeks. You gladly welcomed it: no sharpness of the gust equalled Naoya's harshness.
What was he doing? Smirking at your inevitable humiliation? Taking pride in teaching you a good lesson?
Oh, the lesson was loud and clear. You had long mastered the skill of reading Naoya's mind and decoding all his veiled messages.
Do not even dare to think about him.
That time, however, he miscalculated something: his actions might've sown hesitancy, but instead of the expected obedience, frantic rage blinded you.
To the point you barely saw Gojo approaching. Your name left his lips in a breathy manner as he just ran or something. Startled by his hand on your wrist, you allowed yourself to stop. Damn, you walked somewhere completely unknown.
"Finally. For someone on heels, you walk pretty fast, gotta admit."
His words soothed a bit of the irritation bubbling beneath. Still, the bitter ache clogged your throat.
"Not in the mood for jokes, Gojo. Or are you here to laugh at me? Well, I suppose it was really fun to see."
Gojo listened to you with brows knitted, and the pain threading through your words twisted the blade deeper into his heart. His face briefly contorted into a grimace of pain before he simply murmured, stepping closer.
"It's cold and getting dark. I don't want you wandering all alone."
Your hand in his gentle hold limply fell. Gojo begrudgingly let it go as you stared at him in shock.
A hundred questions whirled in your mind, but you were too overwhelmed with that evening and just wanted it to end. And Gojo's company was by far the best thing that happened to you.
"Mind telling what happened?"
The neon lights from the nearest konbini store cast hints of green and blue on Gojo's face, painting his white hair in a fluorescent mess of colours. Nevertheless, he managed to fit in there way more than you on your heels. Gojo didn't say anything while you tiredly dragged your feet somewhere into the blue, but his surprisingly silent presence brought you much-needed comfort.
"Or…I guess it's rather who."
You didn't answer, but the immediate self-deprecating drop of your shoulders told Gojo everything.
Gojo huffed a harsh chuckle under his breath, carding his fingers through the hair to ease that overwhelming rage. It threatened to consume him every time he saw a shell of a person Naoya desperately tried to turn you into. It slowly killed him, brick by brick. Your frightened gaze was burned into his retinas — the image Gojo would never forget.
The verbal duels with Naoya, mind and business games, sharp smirks and disdainful glances didn't matter at all if the sorrow in your eyes never truly left.
"Let me take you out."
You were studying the nearest vending machine when Gojo's words stunned you.
Had you just hit your head on the pavement?
The distant honks from the car reached both of you, but you were too shocked to register any sound.
"Like…on a date?"
Gojo didn't answer. The cold cut through your light coat, but his burning gaze kept you warm.
Slowly, you shook your head. "Gojo, I am engaged."
"I know. A friendly date." He nodded to himself and stepped closer, until you could feel his breath fanning over your cheek. You tugged your coat tighter and looked up to meet his eyes, flashing with a weird gleam.
Gojo's hand came up to wipe the remnants of hurt on your cheek. His thumb gently caressed the apple of your cheek. "We're friends, right?"
It was strange. Strange to feel the heat of longing exploding beneath your skin at his mere touch. For your knees to weaken at the gale of his warmth. For your heartbeat to throb at his glance. For the tightness in your chest to loosen at his reassuring words.
"We are."
Your fragile voice tautened the knot behind his ribs. The twitch of his fingers on your face gave away the desperation to hold you.
"Just think about it, okay?"
Gojo's hand slowly drifted downwards to hook his finger under your chin to tilt it up. The neon signs now illuminated your features, but his gaze remained glued to your lips before finding your eyes — oh, that sweet, pleading look, undoing him to the bone.
And as strange as you might've felt towards Gojo, the constant fear blending into an urge to please your future husband chained you to the ground. Though the manacles of hurt slowly devoured every ounce of affection.
And maybe that was one of the reasons you agreed.
"I will."
Gojo's words echoed more and more in your mind the following night and morning. Especially the night.
His whisper turned more intense, slipping persistently between the maze of your thoughts. The rasp in his tone, coating every word in a sin, only burned the bright crimson into your heart.
Inevitably, you found yourself giving in to it. The night hid the blush of your curiosity as you decided to google Gojo's name.
Your thumb hovered over some article about the grand opening of the latest Gojo's restaurant — the very one you visited — before opening it. Carefully measured words blended with light jokes, so fitting for his image. Pictures in the article didn't do any justice — in fact, Gojo looked more handsome in life, with a smile so bright it could rival the sun, and a gaze so blue the vivid June sky faded away in comparison. Eagerly scrolling down, your excitement dissolved into disappointment: no details about private life.
Gojo was right about it, of course. You highly doubted you were the only person who attempted to stalk him on social media.
The LinkedIn search didn't give any useful info: varnished, flawless posts, clearly made by his PR team, only sent a shudder throught your body. His Facebook page, however, had you almost sit up at your discovery.
An old picture, dated a couple of years ago, showed you the man himself and a gorgeous woman, her hair long and black and a smile too elegant. The faint scar on her face didn't diminish her beauty in any way — only added a kind of allure. That kind that made you stop mid-way and twist your neck looking at her mid-street.
Magnetic.
Judging by Gojo's hand on the woman's waist — Utahime Iori, as you found out — he certainly was the one to twist his neck too. Protective yet gentle — oh, how well aware you were of that look, having witnessed it an awful amount of times. Nayoa's touches only carried that gale of gentleness in very rare instances; yet each of them left you craving more.
Utahime Iori leaned into Gojo's side with ease.
It left you wondering what it would've been like to feel his hand on the small of your back, around your waist, on the delicate skin, erupting goosebumps —
Stop it.
The treacherous spark of sin had never burnt brighter within you, even with Naoya's whisper blowing it out.
"We're friends, right?"
You abruptly locked your phone and tossed it somewhere. Turned in your bed. Groaned into the pillow. Asked the pillow what you were supposed to do.
The pillow didn't answer.
Your phone, however, did. A sound of a notification pulled you back to reality, and a sigh of relief escaped you as you saw it wasn't from Naoya.
Only to further morph into a surprised gasp.
Gojo
02:13
Can't sleep?
God, how desperately you wished to have someone to vent to about Gojo's text and… well, Gojo.
For now, it was only your sketchbook.
Having friends was a luxury Naoya never indulged you in.
After inner debating and dots appearing and reappearing, you finally typed back.
You
02:16
Something like that. Didn't peg you as a night owl, tho
Damn, you could've physically felt the boom of his laugh even across the city.
Gojo
02:17
I'm more like a tired pigeon. 😉My hands are full with all the opening stuff.
Your mind worked overtime in an attempt to come up with a plausible answer — not too nosy, not too casual, not too indifferent.
You
02:18
:(
Sounds exhausting
Gojo kept silent after your last text for quite some time. You scolded yourself for your own awkwardness, even in the texts, especially in the texts, and sank into the sheets like a sad blob.
And almost jolted as your phone suddenly pinged again. The eagerness in your moves startled even you.
Gojo
02:35
Oh, I am so sorry, left you hanging haha.
Tsumiki thought she had a monster under her bed. Turned out it was just Ball chewing his toy
You haven't seen that lil guy, right?
Never in your life had you imagined yourself giggling over the pics of two bunnies with the kids in almost three of the morning. You quickly answered that they were so cute.
Sleep looked more and more distant to both of you with each message.
You just couldn't force yourself to leave Gojo. At first, you were really hesitant to answer, overthinking each word and even emojis, but his rambling served as a soothing balm on your worried soul.
But as all good things in your life tend to end, after some time, Gojo inevitably texted.
Gojo
03:43
Damn, it's almost four in the morning. I didn't even notice.
Sorry for holding you up, coffee is on me this morning :)
And no, you can't refuse. Doctors should feel the best 💪💪💪
A bright grin broke on your face. You wished him a good night. Or whatever of it was left.
Gojo
03:45
Sleep tight, Doc
Think of my words, okay?
Slumber evaded you the rest of the night; blue eyes haunted you as well as a sharp brown gaze. The answer, though, started morphing in the dead of the night, grew steady with each text and settled with a certainty the following morning.
The hospital greeted you with the same chaos as usual; you flashed polite grins to your colleagues, assured the nervous parents that you were going to look at their babies as soon as possible and hurried to the doctor's lounge.
Throwing a glance at your reflection to check whether your mascara didn't smudge in the rain — for some reason, you wanted to look pretty today — you stilled. A wave of humiliation swept your smile off your face, disguised by a sombre mask.
You didn't tear your gaze away from the mirror, watching Naoya slowly step towards you. A large bouquet of red roses caught a lot of attention in the hall, from the bewildered glances to dreamy sighs.
When he finally stopped just in front of you, so close that a whiff of his cologne was enough to send a fresh wave of nausea, you didn't immediately duck your head. Surprise flashed in Naoya's eyes before he hid it behind the usual grin.
Charming for everyone but you.
"You look beautiful today, dove."
"As I did yesterday."
The corners of his mouth twitched. The light pink dusted the tips of his ears: you would've assumed it was an ounce of regret if he were capable of such a feeling. Judging by the sharp look around, you were more than certain it addressed the unwanted audience.
He licked his lips, and his voice dropped to a whisper, somehow rushed. "I would prefer to talk in your office."
Stifling a sigh, you slowly examined the surroundings.
Your gaze landed on a certain white-haired man, and your heart did a treacherous flip. Gojo listened to Yaga's ramble, occasionally nodding; yet his gaze was glued to you. He acknowledged you with a light tilt of his head.
You carefully muttered to Naoya, "We can talk here."
Naoya's eyes widened at your unexpected disobedience. The irritated flex of his jaw gave away his true feelings. But given the curious glances around, Gojo's gaze that burnt a hole in his skull and your sudden rebellious nature, he decided to play by your rules.
"I didn't mean to miss our anniversary, darling. I know how deeply you value all these milestones. My business partners decided to suddenly throw a huge dinner for the upcoming merger and acquisition news. I couldn't reject or call you either. Best believe, I wouldn't miss it for the world!"
Each word, honeyed with lies and veiled in blarney, only bruised you more.
The hollowness in your soul bled through the cracks, settling over your face like an empty mask. Despite your best effort, the void inside couldn't devour all the hurt.
"You can't do that to me every time, Naoya."
Something flashed behind his gaze, and for a second, you actually allowed yourself to believe it was a sincere regret. A guilt for subjecting you to yet another round of mockery.
Was he proud of himself, you wondered? Did he really feel remorseful enough to actually apologise, you pondered?
Slowly, Naoya handed you the bouquet. Your hands brushed — and you realised with a painful certainty that it was the closest thing to an apology from him.
"It will make you feel better."
Would it?
Your fingers carefully touched the flowers, too crimson in their mesmerising beauty, and your grip tightened.
"I don't like roses. Don't you know that?"
Naoya squinted at you: an unwelcome feeling of seeing his most beloved doll, his most prized item in a collection, defying the very master who shaped her, was too sudden to recognise.
Though you just handed him the reins. Naoya immediately pulled on them, of course.
"Are you really going to make a scene in front of everyone? When am I trying to apologise? Because of the flowers?"
A sense of guilt immediately flooded the stone expression on your face. You dropped your gaze to look at the damn bouquet again, but almost instantly lifted it, guided by some force.
Your eyes met Gojo's — resembling a deer in headlights, just after they were directed at Naoya — and the look of pure rage sent shivers down your spine. You gave Gojo a slight shake as if to say, "Don't interfere. Please."
Though he listened to you, the storm in his eyes didn't quite even for a moment.
"Darling, thank you for the flowers, but I have an early meeting. Take them home. I am sure it will be a better place for them than my office."
Even with your voice trembling like a leaf, your hands remained surprisingly steady. The shock on his face was the second reward that morning.
You, slowly discovering the faint spark inside, were the first.
Gojo's wide smile when you agreed to his proposal over the promised coffee served as the third.
⋆˚࿔
You
15:34
What should I wear?
Gojo
15:41
Whatever you want ;)
Or that pink sundress. You look nice in it
You stared at Gojo's last text, slightly bouncing on your heels from the sudden excitement, waiting for him to pick you up. The gentle breeze embraced you in its soft gale, and you turned your face to enjoy the fleeting sunlight.
It was strange. Being actually excited for a date. Even for a friendly one. Especially for a friendly one: since Naoya became an integral part of your life, he swiftly occupied every role reserved for a lover. A partner. A friend.
"Oh, my little dove. Do you really need someone besides me? You don't want me to feel betrayed, do you?"
He used to murmur once, when you greedily grasped for every ounce of freedom he presented to you not-so-generously. Desperate to earn his affection, you wordlessly swallowed every attempt of his to cancel your brunch. Your book club. A dinner. Or watching a movie that your friends had been waiting for months.
After that, the calls and texts came more rarely, before disappearing from your life completely.
There was nothing in your life anymore but Naoya.
At first, you felt a surge of euphoria every time he graced you with his smile, a simple nod and his hand on your thigh. Everything was tied to him. Every gap. Every part of your life was now so tethered to Naoya's presence that you genuinely couldn't understand what had been before him.
Had you even existed in the first place?
Maybe you were foolish for even entertaining a thought of going with another man. Stupid for waiting for the right moment for Naoya to leave the city for a sudden business trip. Naive for having your heartbeat stuttering and pulse fluttering under your skin at the sight of Gojo.
Let it be, you thought. For once, in a very long period of time, that feeling rushed stronger than the constant fear devouring you day by day.
Naoya still might've felt an ounce of shame: on business trips, he would usually blow your phone with calls and messages.
These days he remained surprisingly laconic.
The sudden beeps had you jolting near the quiet bookshop where you told Gojo to pick you up. Right on time. Your gaze swept over the car — a majestic beast in deep metallic blue — and a quiet huff left your lips. He wasn't playing about that date.
Swallowing, you nervously tugged on the hem of the pink sundress and stepped closer, your shoulders squared in an attempt to appear confident. On the outside, at least.
Hardly had you moved when the door opened, revealing Gojo himself. A black short-sleeved polo shirt was so deliciously stretched over his arms and torso that your brain short-circuited. His hair fell over his forehead in a messy fringe, and as he swept it away with a charming grin, the sudden heat painted your cheeks pink. Suddenly, you felt very self-conscious about the simple dress you chose; a man like Gojo deserved no less than the perfection standing next to him.
When you had already learned to view yourself as an embodiment of failure.
Nevertheless, you pushed your insecurities back, slightly leaning on the door Gojo held open for you.
"My, my, didn't perk you as a Ferrari type of guy."
Gojo laughed — a smooth, soft sound that shouldn't have you swooning over — and patted the hood, almost lovingly.
"This baby is reserved for special occasions."
Now all the blood rushed to your face as you breathed out, "Am I a special occasion?"
Something brief crossed Gojo's handsome face, melting his cockiness into an evanescent tenderness.
"Of course."
His murmur hit you harder than expected.
How on Earth were you supposed to react?
You just kept staring at him, akin to a deer in the headlights. Your grip on the door tightened, the wind threw your hair into your face, but you didn't move even for an inch. Lost in the deep sea of his eyes, you simply couldn't. Standing close, you caught a whiff of his cologne — fresh and icy.
Damn, he smelled good.
He leaned over, looking for something, and then fished a bouquet: irises, white lilies, peonies, and lupines — delicate spring, tied with a pretty ribbon. Bewildered, you took it and dragged your widened gaze to Gojo.
"Ah, Gojo, you shouldn't —," you cut yourself off with a grimace. Now you sounded like an ungrateful brat. You quickly corrected yourself. "I mean, they are very pretty, I like them, thank you so much, but —"
"But you liked them," Gojo interrupted your babbling swiftly, his tone smooth, but the steel gleamed in his gaze. "They suit you. A beautiful bouquet for a beautiful woman."
"I —"
"Doc, please," sighing in mock exasperation, he nudged you towards the car with a soft yet persistent gesture. His hand felt strangely pleasant on your elbow, thumb brushing against the velvet skin. "Just accept them, okay? Do me a favour."
After all, you had nothing to do but agree.
Driving with Gojo was…different from driving with Naoya. The tan cabin smelled pleasantly of leather and luxury, offering you a panoramic view out. You tried not to disturb Gojo much and kept your gaze on the flowers. Naoya didn't like being interrupted while driving.
Gojo, as you found out, didn't care much. You sat so quietly and looked so timidly — as if you were scared to disturb him by breathing.
As usual, the urge to teach your damn fiancé, that Zenin asshole, some lesson, rose tenfold.
He shot you a quick, assessing glance and muttered quietly, "Are you alright?"
Your head snapped up at his question.
"Of course!"
"You can adjust your seat, if you want to. Or adjust the climate control, too," he pointed to some controls. "Play some music. Or even talk. You know I don't bite, Doc."
Sincere surprise on your face, followed by a genuine smile, made his heart skip a bit.
"It's really a nice car," you slightly turned in your seat with a soft murmur. "I see why it is reserved for special occasions."
"Wanna drive it later? Give it a try?"
Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and later you breathed out a disbelieving chuckle.
"Oh, no, no, no. I am better suited to be a passenger. Yeah. But thanks!"
Gojo's expression shifted from pure amusement at your laugh to quiet affection. Some easy-breezy pop tunes filled the car and soothed some tension curled in your shoulders. The city behind the glassy view passed you in urban buildings, green parks, bustling streets and hurrying people.
"So, what's that interesting place you wanted to show me?"
Quirking a single brow at you, he sent you a wink. "Wouldn't be so interesting if I told you. Besides, we're almost there."
"We are?" Confused, you craned your neck a little to have a peek out.
"Yep," he answered easily and looked over his shoulder to put the car in reverse. Never in your life had you thought you would find that simple act hot. "Ever been to Todoroki Valley?"
Never, to your shame.
A hidden oasis amidst the city jungles was as serene as you could need. Tucked away in the green valley, that safe haven looked like it came straight from some fresco, with a river splashing through the vibrant ravine under a lavish canopy of trees. The brimming sunrays painted the valley in bright light, though the rich leafage kept you safe from the scorching heat. In fact, the valley gave you a much-needed escape from the lingering heatwave, as well as the anxiety haunting you all that time. The gentle hum of waterfalls and the faintest whisper of sakura petals carried you from the megapolis's hustle.
"It's like we're not in Tokyo at all," watching a couple of ducks leisurely floating down their path, you murmured under your breath. Completely unaware that Gojo was examining you all the time. "They are so cute!"
A soft smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
"Indeed."
You wandered along the small river, heading to the hidden shrines and ancient temples. Fascinated by the tranquillity around, you didn't notice the red wooden bridge creaking precariously. Your feet slightly slipped on the path, but it was enough to lose your balance.
Just as your hand flew to grab the bridge's rail, a strong hand immediately held your waist, stabilising you. The warmth from Gojo's body seeped into you even through the thin fabrics of your sundress. The twitch of his fingers was threaded with longing.
"Careful. Watch your step here."
A low murmur tickled the shell of your ear, alongside a breeze of his cologne, the scent of the foliage, and something so uniquely him. Blood pounded at your temples, roaring like an alarm.
His fingers squeezed your waist for the last time before letting you go.
Judging by the faint tingle left on your skin, very reluctantly.
Gojo pulled away and fell back with your step when he helped you to climb through the bamboo sticks. The lingering warmth between you, morphing into something way heavier, never disappeared since.
After visiting a small pavilion with a statue honouring a founder of the valley, you both reached the temple, set just above the ravine on the wooded slopes.
"Have you ever heard about the temple's story?" Gojo muttered beside you as you both lined up to test your luck with omikuji strips.
Furrowing your brows, you recalled, "Something about Fudo Myo-o appearing to one monk in dreams?"
"Yep. He later came up to that valley and struck the rock with his staff. That was where the waterfall began to flow. But that's not the most important thing. They sell the small figurines of Fudo Myo-o right there. With omikuji!" He pointed at the stall; a bright grin broke on his face as he watched your eyes light up with excitement.
"You don't say!"
"Zero lies, Doc."
"Honestly, I suck at drawing these strips. Always ending up with "future blessing". At best," you huffed a bitter laugh after you both managed to find an empty bench beneath a large sakura tree.
Gojo's expression softened at your revelation, and without much thinking, he exclaimed.
"Oh, a heron!"
Immediately, you turned around — the sound of your floral perfume hit his senses all at once — and without further ado, Gojo swapped your tiny figurines.
"I don't see anything," you squinted to have a better look at the mysterious bird Gojo mentioned and sighed. "My luck. Told you."
"Just try again. Maybe you'll get lucky this time."
Chuckling, you lightly elbowed him and drawled, "I am afraid not everyone is as lucky as you are, Good-Fortune-san!"
He sent you a quick grin, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. Your fingers tumbled with the little Fudo Myo-o, and carefully tucked the fortune slip inside; amazed by the endearing look of concentration on your face, Gojo gently watched it morph into bewilderment, later replaced by pure excitement when you squealed in delight.
"Good fortune! Can you believe it? The last time I got it was a couple of years ago! Ahem," you cleared your throat to read aloud, "Good fortune is on your side. Stay grateful and continue your efforts."
A carefully folded stripe later ended up in your purse as a lucky charm. Overly enthusiastic, you urged Gojo to open his omikuji. The familiar look of "future blessing" made you grimace.
"You know, it's not that bad, actually," you tried to reassure him, but Gojo didn't seem melancholic at all. In fact, his lips curled into a subtle smirk. "It may sound pretty average, but it promises a happy ending."
Twirling the slip between the long fingers, Gojo just hummed. To your surprise, he put it in his wallet as well.
"You're not going to tie it?"
"Why would I? You've just said it promises a happy ending. I follow the doctor's orders," he just shrugged and extended his hand to help you get up.
"I am not your doctor, though."
"Ah. What a shame."
The visitors' voices fell to distant, indecipherable murmurs as you stood before the emagake, offering your wishes to the almighty gods. Even the wind quietened around you. The sharp tugs turned into gentle breezes, allowing the mere mortals to reach the kami.
For a moment, Gojo wondered what you wished for: traces of melancholy crept between the creaks of your composure and serenity. He kept stealing glances at you all the time you were heading to a cosy tea house, hidden in the lush greenery. A couple of carp in the nearby pond caught your attention when you walked to place your order.
Carefully balancing two bowls with anmitsu and kakigori, Gojo sat beside you at the picturesque spot and handed you the dessert. The Yazawa River softly murmured beneath you, but the sight of an uncontrollable force of nature around sent the shivers down your spine.
"I feel so small here." After a couple of minutes, you finally broke the silence. That kind of silence felt…strange. Strange for it not to lie heavily on your shoulders. Strange to not clasp its hands on your neck, squeezing a pathetic attempt at appeasing…someone.
Having caught Gojo's questioning look, you clarified quickly, "In a good way. This place is just a reminder not to dwell constantly on your problems. They pale in comparison to the force of nature, don't they? After all, we're here for a very short period of time."
He took a bite of his kakigori ( a single look at that mountain of shaved ice with dozens of syrups was enough to send a grown man into a sugary coma — Gojo didn't play about his sweets, that was for sure), and nodded contemplatively.
"I agree. That doesn't mean they are not important, though. That we, humans, are not important."
You followed the direction of his gaze to watch sakura petals twirling around in a lazy dance. A bitter smile graced your face.
"Humans are fragile. Even… distant. Selfish, I might say. It feels like each of us is orbiting on our own and is lucky enough to collide with someone. Let alone get you."
"Yet beautiful," Gojo countered gently and mirrored your smile. "You can make a flower bloom, admire it, but you can't tell it to understand you. That's the beauty of humanity. Different from nature, though not less significant."
"I wish I could've done more, though," quickly casting your gaze down, you sadly poked the peach slices of your anmitsu. "About our… fragility."
"Aren't you already doing it? Every day?"
Your grip on the bowl hardened.
Gojo released a quiet exhale.
"You wished for that girl's health, right?"
A shadow immediately fell over your face, etching sorrow into it and hollowing the serenity of that place. The answer lay at the tip of your tongue, but the growing lump in your throat stole your voice.
He knew the answer.
Worldlessly, his hand reached to cover your palm with a light squeeze.
Your breath stuttered in the tightness of your throat. Each exhale felt sharper than the previous, but Gojo's steady, assuring presence gave you something dangerous.
A sparkle of hope.
Quietly putting the dessert away, you hesitated for one second before unsurely lacing your fingers with his in a trembling grip.
"Thank you, Satoru."
You hoped he understood you. Prayed he heard the hundreds of words that you yet dared to mutter. Wished he could recognise a feeling you yet had to name in your gaze. Ached for him to see through your facade.
The blue of his gaze resembled a warm sea that caressed the shore of your face when his thumb gently brushed the tender skin under your eyes.
"You're always welcome, Doc."
You allowed yourself to lean into Gojo's palm just for a moment before pulling away.
During your visit to the valley, you forced yourself to bury every thought of Naoya. It was safe to say you more or less managed to do it, until the lone touch from Gojo was enough to set you aflame.
The way back from the Todoroki Valley to Gojo's car felt rather awkward as you desperately scrambled for a proper way to thank him.
"Doc?"
His voice snapped you out of your focus. Forcing a smile, you realised he had been holding the door for you for quite a long time already.
"I…Thank you for this day. It was really magical."
Gojo's brows almost reached his hairline. His shoulders shook with a laugh as he nodded for you to get in the car.
"You really thought I would only take you to stroll around? Please, Doc. You wound me. Deeply."
Now you just watched him again with a widened gaze.
That later turned completely astounded as the sleek car stopped amidst the bright neon lights and the glossy buildings hovering above you, just in the heart of Ginza — a total contrast from nature's embrace.
Your gaze fell on the famous Ginza Place and…the urge to sink into your seat consumed you.
You were used to expensive places. Luxury establishments. The rich aroma of an elite wine. The mesmerising scents of Michelin dishes. The whispers of the spotless cloths.
Then what was the reason for the sudden awkwardness to paint your cheeks red?
Or rather, who?
Because the thought of sharing a meal in what you suspected to be a candlelit dinner, let alone at his restaurant, didn't evoke friendly feelings in you at all.
"Gojo, I —"
"Didn't you call me Satoru just an hour ago?"
You abruptly closed your mouth and sent him a weak glare.
"I am not really hungry, I guess. It's not necessary. I still enjoyed our evening very much, but I think we should end it here."
You expected Gojo to argue with you, insisting, charming his way to persuade you.
But what you didn't expect was the barely imperceptible curl of his shoulders and a curt nod.
Maybe he felt that dangerous line blurring even further between you.
"Of course. I…can call Ijichi to take you home."
Your heart sank at the hurt lurking in his words. But before you could answer, your phone loudly beeped with an incoming notification.
The usual feeling of unease engulfed you; you hastily fished your phone and typed something. Slowly, confusion on Gojo's face numbed into frustration. Helplessly, he gripped the wheel until his knuckles turned white. Until your next words made him stare at you in disbelief, and a slow grin broke on his face.
"I've changed my mind. Let's go."
Whatever the bullshit Naoya pulled on you — judging by your direct tone and the narrowed gaze — that was enough for you to step closer into Gojo's embrace.
Unlike a certain someone, he wasn't a fool to miss it.
Gojo's restaurant met you with courteous nods from waiters, ambient music, a chic atmosphere, and…
A complete lack of visitors.
"I expected more guests at this hour, honestly. Didn't think we would be all alone."
The rooftop bar looked exactly as you imagined it, overlooking an iconic Ginza 4-Chome; the Seiko House Ginza and the Wako department store bathed in a golden light — the epitome of extravagance and splendour. You shifted in your seat and gently brushed the drop of condensation from your glass. The reviews and excited chirping of Naoya's aunties didn't lie: that place, in fact, served excellent food, not to mention the sommelier-selected alcohol. Gojo accepted your compliment with a bright grin, immediately ordering the red squid you mentioned once at the cafe.
He took a sip of an Alternative Bellini cocktail — to your pleasant surprise, Gojo wasn't a fan of alcohol at all — and murmured, glancing somewhere past the opulent skyline.
"Yeah, it's pretty booked this time usually. I've closed it."
You stilled at his off-handed mention. As if the sole fact of taking you to that majestic place, his place, was not enough for your heart to drop into the void.
The void called to you in Naoya's scornful whisper.
"Just a friendly date. Just a friendly date."
Gojo's unguarded gaze kept insisting that it was anything but friendly.
Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, you dug into your charcoal-grilled wagyu beef. "Can I ask why?"
"I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable."
You slowly lifted your eyes at Gojo.
He was already watching you, his chin resting on the palm. A nervous chuckle left you as you shrugged, your shoulders squared up tightly.
"I am a big girl. You shouldn't have to do that."
Leaning back, Gojo only sent you a bitter grin. "Doc, you should know better than me that rumours in our circles spread like wildfire."
A smile on your face faded completely. Gloominess clouded your expression. You immediately cast your gaze downwards at the poor plate. Gojo sighed inwardly at his own clumsiness with words. Which was strange, in a way.
He hadn't been used to feeling awkward at all.
While he tried to come up with a change of topic, your words snapped him back to reality.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course, Doc."
"Have you ever been in love?"
The silence fell on your table as you both waited for a waiter to refill your champagne and offer Gojo another cocktail. To be frank, you fully expected Gojo to deflect with some light joke, but the sight of his hand on that beautiful lady's waist flared in your mind more times than necessary. Especially for an engaged woman on a friendly date.
Instead, his lips curled into a slow, albeit bitter, around-the-edges smile.
"Abso-fucking-lutely."
As if on cue, the low, soothing voice of Frank Sinatra murmured the first words of "Moon River." You bit your lip not to blurt the woman's name but luckily managed to zip it. The last thing you wanted was to reveal your stalker-ish tendencies to Gojo.
"Her name was Utahime. We were basically high school sweethearts. Then the university stars. You know how it is: the most popular girl and guy, nothing new." Gojo lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug — gods, even that absentminded move kept your eyes glued to his figure.
You nodded along to his words, though you had never got to experience that dizzying feeling of a blue spring.
"Why did you break up, if that's okay to ask?"
For the second time that evening, his grin faltered. A gust of wind threw his messy fringe over his eyes as Gojo stared into the distance. Something sparked in his gaze, so brief you couldn't catch it, and hid behind the melancholic blue.
"There was nothing dramatic— Nah, well, some moments were indeed dramatic, but on a large scale… We just drifted apart. The things that tied us together fell loose. There was nothing to hold us anymore. She's grown way past the image of the lead cheerleader. And I…had quite difficult times myself," he concluded evasively.
What Gojo didn't tell was the memories of the next months, dragging into the soulless years. When the loneliness took up his home, day by day, rested on the dusted shelves, dwelled within empty walls and walked polished floors. Until one day he choked on his own solitude and decided to give his hopeless love life another try.
Didn't work out very well, obviously.
Ladies lined up before him: pretty figures, plump lips, all sharp where he wanted it soft, eyes gleaming with that prospect of the rich, luxurious life. As if they were dating a walking bank account, not a person.
He didn't blame them, of course. Everyone would've fallen for that pretty package. Actually, Gojo even enjoyed that flippancy and lack of certain gravity. Living that way was easier — the life felt like an endless soar; the last thing he wanted was an abrupt landing. A touch with reality, as Suguru frequently told him.
The moment the things started shaping into something more serious — or rather, when his girlfriends decided it was time to peek at the unfolding chaos inside him, besides a ritzy wrapper — Gojo chose to run. That shit was complicated and messy. He didn't want anything messy in his life anymore.
Then the cancer knocked unceremoniously on their family's door, took his sister away and muddied his existence with an endless grief.
But now?
Now Gojo suddenly wanted that mess in his life. Because that mess, including the asshole your fiancé was, surrounded you.
Now a single glance from a certain doctor was enough to undo him. A radiant spark in your gaze as you rambled on about some interesting case — one time it was about unruptured appendicitis that you diagnosed early. Or a shy smile as you spotted a small box on your desk and murmured that he shouldn't have to.
Gojo reminded himself numerous times how wrong it was. Wanting to feel your fingers gently grazing his hand. Wishing your gaze caressed his face again and again. Yearning to hold you in his arms. Longing for a gentle smile to curl your lips.
Dying to taste them.
Were they soft? Were they pliable? Or would you dig your teeth into his lips, taste his blood and lick that crimson sin?
Would you sing for him if his hands drifted your velvet skin, leaving prints of his desire all over, and traced your quivering heat?
Would you burn for him the same way he was burning for you?
If only you would've given him a chance.
For now, Gojo just had to suppress the urge not to rearrange your fiancé's pretty face every time he dared to open his mouth. The first time he heard that prick speaking to you — no, humiliating you — sent him into a rage so pure that Gojo didn't even know he was capable of feeling that depth.
Your helpless gaze only fueled the flame of his determination to show how much more you were in his eyes. Aside from the meek, weak and compliant person Zenin shaped you into. That evening of your anniversary, your empty stare and your anything-but-friendly date only cemented his resolve to set you free.
Whether to be with him or not didn't matter. Much.
"I am sorry that happened."
Gojo waved you off with a small grin. "Don't be, Doc. We work out better as bickering exes, that's for sure."
At your widened eyes, Gojo quickly clarified.
"We sometimes talk, yeah. You remember Shoko, right? They are dating now. I know, I know. That's already become a running joke. But everyone's okay with it."
You laughed softly in response, and for some time the sounds of cutlery clacking and quiet Jazz music filled the silence.
Until Gojo decided to strip your soul bare once again.
"Have you?"
Your fingers on the knife twitched, curling even more firmly. You desperately tried to weasel your way out of answering.
"Have I what?"
Gojo was relentless, though. His sharp gaze pierced through your pretended cluelessness.
"Have you ever been in love?"
You wish you knew the answer yourself. It almost spilt from your lips in a delighted chirp, paired with a honeyed smile. You recalled the questioning glances and sickening giggles from Naoya's family, the hospital's nurses, and your cousins every time he decided to play a devoted fiancé. The harshness of that love, framed as care and fondness, carved another scar into your flesh.
You managed to compose yourself by sheer will and offered Gojo a subtle shake, followed by a sunken whisper. The desolation already swelled in your gaze.
Eyes drifting to the golden lights of Ginza, you muttered quietly, more like musing aloud, "I…I don't know. I should've been. I should be now, but…I just don't know. It's not a good sign, isn't it?"
Now you glanced back at Gojo, and he wished — Gods, he wished — to tell you that of-fucking-course it wasn't. That dumbass didn't deserve even to stand in your shadow, let alone marry you.
But he couldn't. Not yet, at least. Instead, Gojo decided to act calm. It was pretty hard, though. Almost as hard as telling a couple of kids to go to bed after an exciting day.
"How did you meet him?"
"At some conference, arranged by his family. I was a med student, running on caffeine and nicotine, and couldn't resist a chance to slack off a little," you chuckled humourlessly; probably thought of that young and naive version of you, who didn't even know what would wait for her. "Asked a couple of questions to his father, a very…interesting man, indeed —"
Gojo huffed loudly, not even hiding his disgust, "A complete asshole, you mean. I saw the old Zenin a couple of times."
"That's…a fair assessment. Anyway, Naoya found me after the whole shebang at the reception. All handsome, smart, courteous. I didn't even stand a chance. I loved him then. I think. " Shrugging in response, you sent Gojo a nervous grin, but immediately groaned and hid your face in your palms. Because pouring that mess out felt terribly awkward.
Yet…strangely liberating.
"I am sorry. I didn't want to dump all of that on you."
Gojo cut you off. "Don't be, please. You have nothing to apologise for. Especially to me."
"I remember you saying that."
"I will remind you as much as needed," he leaned over the table with a wink, and you just laughed in response. The last time you felt so free was probably…well. Never.
You enjoyed strolling amidst the lavish greenery of the Todoroki Valley as much as observing the Tokyo skyline from the rooftop bar in its heart; the dessert from the hidden teahouse of Setsugetsua blossomed on your tongue in the same sweetness as the one at Gojo's Michelin-starred restaurant.
It didn't matter where you spent your time as long as you were with…Gojo.
Oh, you knew pretty well how things would've turned out if that was Naoya by your side.
But what would he do now if he found out about your evening? Walking out of the golden cage, spending time with someone else — a man, let alone the man who kept defending you, and, by this, disgracing him?
How strange, you thought bitterly. That these things had long become opposites.
"Dance with me?"
You stared up at Gojo, blinking in surprise. He towered over you with his head tilted, a light grin curling on his lips. His eyes shone like two sapphires in the dead of the night, and you let your gaze soak in that expression on his face.
"I am not much into dancing," offering an awkward smile, you hoped that was enough for Gojo to give up.
It wasn't, obviously.
Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Gojo only extended his hand to you. "Come on, Doc. I've heard you humming to some songs before. Humour me a little."
Your shoulders fell with a breathy chuckle.
"Just don't grumble later when I step on your foot."
"Oh, that would be an honour for me, sensei."
Turned out you weren't so clumsy as you had been told. Turned out that if your partner actually paid attention to your moves and led you without any fussing, dancing could be…pretty fine.
"You like jazz?"
Twirling with a radiant smile under Gojo's hand, you nodded at him.
It was so easy to forget what you once liked and so hard to remember it. However, guided by a steady hand on the small of your back, the long-buried memories came brighter and brighter. If you were a little bit less excited by "Dream a Little Dream of Me" flowing from the speakers, you would've noticed his fingers digging deeper into your skin with each verse, his gaze turning dangerously dreamy and his moves becoming more languid.
The whole city belonged to him.
Yet he could only see you amidst its blinding golden lights.
Your eyes resembled the stars in the night sky above — gleaming, glowing, glinting up at him. Your cheeks carried that bright tinge of pink that sent his heart hammering, and your laugh sounded like the prettiest melody.
Did you think about your fiancé, Gojo wondered?
What would you say if he told you about the way his day would immediately become better if he spotted you at the hospital? The way your smile would warm him like the brightest Sun?
He couldn't even put his desperation and longing into coherent words. Besides…Besides this.
"You deserve better. You should know that."
Gojo's thick whisper immediately pulled you out of the wonderful haze. Startled, you glanced up and saw him already staring at you — the breeze in his eyes turned into a tempest. Then his hand slowly drifted up your neck, cradling your cheek.
"You are smart. You are beautiful. You are kind and loving. Not clumsy, not stupid, not anything Naoya makes you think you are, Doc."
A frail flower of hope.
You didn't even dare to breathe — and simply took him in.
Why was he doing that to you? Was it another exquisite mind game? Did he want to get to Naoya through you?
What was Gojo's thing with you? Pity?
Because no way someone like him could feel that towards you. All your insecurities reared their heads, stabbing your mind.
"Don't listen to them." Gojo softly wiped a tear from your cheek. Your ache hid in the tremble of your fingers and shallow breaths. "Don't listen to these voices. Listen to mine, okay?"
As usual, your first instinct was to hide and retreat, but something — maybe the magic of the night or a faint whisper carrying all the what-ifs and buts — rooted you to the spot. Or maybe it was the realisation that Gojo was dangerous to you as well. Dangerous in a way that made you believe him. Dangerous enough for the flames inside you to rise from the ashes.
You heard what Gojo said to you and what he did not, but you couldn't give him what he wanted. Not yet, at least.
Pressing a hand over his heart, a steady thump-thump, you offered him a tiny smile.
"I will."
And that was enough for him.
The ride to your home wasn't nearly as tense as you imagined it to be. Instead, you hoped you would get into a traffic jam or heavy rain. You didn't want to leave Gojo, be all alone with your thoughts and count the minutes before Naoya would return in the golden cage of your house.
No wonder you tried to capture every moment of that wonderful evening and tuck it into your heart. You quietly laughed at Gojo's jokes. Hummed to the car radio. Asked him about the flowers.
"Ah, this? I saw flowers in your sketches. Back at your office, remember? I sorta went with it and hoped you liked them."
You sincerely didn't know what to answer, simply staring at his refined profile. Your heart, drumming in the confines, was telling another story.
Somehow, you managed an unsure grin. "I…Yeah. Irises are my favourite flowers, actually."
Gojo's fingers stilled on the ignition key — unfortunately, his car pulled to the now-closed bookshop — and the corners of his lips twitched upwards.
"Makes perfect sense. You look like an irises person."
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"
Raising his hands in surrender, he drawled, "Only the good, Doc."
You laughed back, already fumbling with your seatbelt. The more you tugged on the stubborn buckle, the redder your cheeks became. The damn thing didn't budge.
"Let me."
Before you could even react, Gojo leaned over. The smell of his cologne sent your head dizzy. When his long fingers brushed over your skin, you realised that your cheeks weren't red with embarrassment anymore. If only the tension in the car didn't fog your mind.
Judging by the way Gojo's fingers still lingered on you, as if any moment spent apart actually tormented him, he felt that as well.
"Courage is about doing things while you are scared."
"Am I a special occasion?" "Of course."
"You deserve better. You should know that."
"Satoru?"
Slowly, agonisingly so, he lifted his head. The rippling want in his eyes set every nerve in your body on flame.
Each shallow breath seemed borrowed. Every second in Gojo's proximity pushed you into the depth of his eyes.
"I didn't thank you. For all that evening."
Your voice dropped into a cadence Gojo hadn't heard yet, but damn if he didn't go crazy at those syrupy tones.
"Don't worry about anything, Doc. I am glad you liked it."
"Still," you shifted a little — just enough for your breasts to brush against his chest — and leaned in. "Let me."
The touch of your lips, soft and a bit hesitant, to the corner of his mouth first, later drifting to his lips as well, capturing them in sweetness, felt like resurfacing after the years of drowning. Seeing a sparkle of light after wandering in darkness. Or finally being able to breathe.
Your teeth gently grazed his bottom lip before pulling apart with a sigh. His chest rose rapidly with sharp exhales, eyes firmly shut, memorising every flutter of your lashes on his skin and every tentative press of your lips.
You might've mistaken his silence for something completely else. The quiet, reluctant acceptance threading your voice pierced his heart.
"I didn't…didn't mean to overstep. I should go —"
Only for all your words to dissolve into a surprised gasp when Gojo finally kissed you back.
God, you had never felt like that. Like every part of your body came alive under Gojo's trembling touch — his hand travelled to cup the back of your head — and sang the candied serenades in raspy murmurs, breathless moans and thick whispers.
"Fuck, you're so sweet," he muttered in a low voice, dragging kisses down from your mouth, your jawline and to the tender skin of your neck. A jolt of desire shot through you when Gojo suddenly bit on a pulsating vein and immediately soothed it. The rumble of his laugh tightened the knot in your belly more as you sobbed his name. "Even sweeter than I thought. How is that possible, huh?"
You were far too preoccupied with his lips marking you and his hands tugging on your sundress with urgency to muster any plausible response. Not with your whole being burning, burning with want and screaming to have Gojo in any way. Mouth, fingers, tongue, scent — you would greedily take everything.
"Oh fuck, you're gonna actually kill me." His head hit the headrest when you moved a little, dragging your clothed heat over his throbbing length, eliciting a shameless groan. Another loud moan left you as Gojo wasted no time in planting kisses down your cleavage. You whined and mindlessly shifted your hips once again.
"You're so soft, angel. Soft and pretty and so fucking gorgeous for me, I can't believe it, I just can't —"
In a couple of moments, your back hit the seats again: too dazed, you completely missed the way he manhandled you.
Then his lips erased every coherent thought once again.
Dazed, you dragged your gaze from his rapidly rising chest, past the sharp collarbones to his face as Gojo hovered over you — all strength and sin wrapped in heat and muscles. Sliding your hands up his arms to paw at his biceps, you noticed his snowy eyelashes flutter at your touch.
"You have no idea," Gojo's raspy murmur fanned over you when he rested his forehead on yours. A messy white fringe fell freely with a few strands sticking to his skin. His lips then travelled to pepper your face in faint kisses, light in reverence; his fingers drew trails of fire on your skin, ravenous in intensity. The dangerous contrast left you breathless, pliable for Gojo to mould you. "How long have I been thinking about it. About you."
"So beautiful. So perfect for me, yes, arch a little, here you go." You felt the cocky curve of Gojo's smirk carving into your collarbone and almost giggled, if not for his finger brushing over your core. "Go-o-od girl. Already this wet, huh?"
"Ah, Sa-Satoru!"
Your thighs desperately twitched in Gojo's hold when he hungrily pried them apart, and his breath fanned over your cunt. At your muffled voice, his head snapped — the black holes flaming with desire swallowed the irises.
"Let me eat you out. Please let me, I can't — I need to taste you, pretty girl." All Gojo's drunk whispers morphed into groans with each press of his lips over your inner thighs. His laugh reverberated through your whole body when he chuckled breathlessly, licking a fat stripe up your cunt. "Damn, didn't he fuck you at all? Prick. I am gonna have my hands on him, I swear I am, just after I deal with these gorgeous girls here."
"I —," a choked sob tore from your throat. Gojo pressed a kiss onto your twitching clit through your soaked, completely drenched panties. Was it because of his mouth on you, his hands devouring you, his lips whispering filth to you, or the pure sin that left you a trembling mess? "I've never — "
He pulled away, disbelief written all over his handsome face, lips already glistening with your essence. "Never what?"
"N-never had a-anyone —"
"Eating you out?"
You whined at the loss of contact and helplessly bucked your hips once again, nodding. Didn't notice Gojo's grip on your thighs tightening and the vein popping on his temple. Somehow, he managed to compose himself and left a surprisingly tender kiss on your skin, his thumb drawing soothing circles there.
"Don't think about him. Just look at me. I want to make you feel good, Doc. Keep your eyes on me."
You tried. Really did. But with each gentle peck Gojo left up to your core, it became increasingly difficult. Almost impossible.
Especially as his nose bumped into your clit and his tongue nipped it. Just a light touch, but you arched as if on a command — a doll tugged on her joints.
Gojo laughed — an amused rumble — when your fingers pulled on his hair strands.
"Aw, impatient much, pretty girl? Sorry for keeping you waiting."
And just as he was about to plunge his tongue into your sloppy folds, you heard it.
The annoying sound of your phone cutting through the delirious haze.
Your breath seemed trapped in your chest. Gojo stilled completely, halted by your reaction. His widened blue eyes were glued to your face, waiting for any command.
A slow glance in the rear mirror, and the view immediately felt like a bucket of cold water. Your hair messy, eyes smeared with lust, cheeks painted in red, the sundress mercilessly bunched around the waist.
And Gojo, holding onto your thighs longingly.
Not him. Not your future husband.
The phone rang again, effectively twisting your insides into a knot. Slowly straightening up, you felt a suffocating wave of panic and self-loathing wash over you.
What were you doing? Who were you but a cheating slut after this?
What would your family say?
What would he do once he finds out?
"I am so sorry," you mumbled quietly, trembling fingers awkwardly pulling the dress down, too ashamed to even look into Gojo's eyes. Too scared to see hurt and anger in his eyes.
He opened his mouth to answer, but you cut him off abruptly, shaking your head. Too numb with ache and disgust. Too scared. Too dirty.
And as you quietly slipped out of Gojo's car like you both hadn't been devouring each other, he slammed his fist over the control panel.
a/n: uhm uhm uhm hope you liked this chapter!!! i've had some hard times writing it, so every comment and reblog is much appreciated. let me know what you think!!!
the next chapter will be the longest and probably the last. i'll see how it goes. if i missed anyone in tags, let me know! ❤️
ALSO a special star to someone who will notice a couple of references!
I posted this on twitter some time ago + now that we have the birth date of many jjk characters i have been thinking about their charts sooooo here it is!
The Sun God had never been in love. Until he saw a lovely nymph, whose beauty made his heart race with a feeling impossible to capture in the sweetest words. Until he was struck by Cupid's arrow of love, sending his mind spiralling into an obsessive lust. Until he decided to... soothe you a bit, like a true, filthy scum. But well, Satoru Gojo was truly just a man in maddening love!
included in tales, myths, romances
˖𖤓 ݁˖ pairing: ꒰ Apollo!Gojo Satoru x Nymph!Reader ꒱
˖𖤓 ݁˖ content & warnings: ꒰ MDNI 18 + :: Greek Mythology AU :: half mythologically accurate :: MY WIFE FEMJO MENTIONED :: yandere Gojo Satoru :: obsessiveness :: possessiveness :: virgin reader :: masturbation :: strong reader :: she's also meannn :: Satoru is a SCUM in love :: drugging (with aprodisiac) :: lose of virginity :: Suguru is a scum too :: we're fucking on the beach :: posessive sex :: breeding :: mating press :: oral sex :: pussydrunk Satoru ꒱
˖𖤓 ݁˖ words: ꒰ 11.4k ꒱
˖𖤓 ݁˖ notes: I need to learn how to write short fics, because it was supposed to be 6k. Anyway, it is half-mythologically accurate, as I, of course, added a few changes. There's not much said in mythology about Daphne's (nymph's) character, so I played with it a bit. Enjoy!
The common truth seemed to be that Apollo had been stricken by the wicked arrow of love by Cupid himself.
During the fight of sorts, Apollo, always so proud and pugnacious, killed the serpent Python. He slew him with a thousand arrows as the beast wrought devastation across the lush lands of mankind.
And so the God defeated it grandly, with his handsome cheeks and eyes kissed by the Mother Sea itself, shining majestically beneath the golden rays of the Mediterranean sun.
The end of the story it could be, yet the God of Music and Poetry and Sun, to put it bluntly, did not know how to shush a cheeky mouth of his that boasted round and round.
One day, flushed with foolish pride, he saw a God of Love, Eros, bending his bow, arrow drawn taut. A boy of young age who seemed too sweet not to tease, and as Apollo was known for his wicked, playful mind, he poked the little divinity with a laugh.
A laugh it was supposed to be, yet he went too far.
He joked a few too many times, laughing at how Eros shouldn't handle a weapon reserved only for the truest men. After all, who killed the serpent Python if not Apollo himself?
He had every right to be arrogant, yet the Gods and Goddesses couldn't stand the wicked smirk and unwavering haughtiness that always clouded his mind. He was beautiful and sleek, yet no one on Olympus's peak could ever match his arrogance and boldness.
Apollo was powerful, yet Eros was unkind. After he poked and played and had his fun, Apollo left Eros alone in the forest, giving him no mind. He didn't know, however, that the God of Love would prove far more wicked than he had thought.
As with his hurt pride, Eros plucked a few creamy feathers from his wings and prepared two arrows. They were completely different, one creating love, the other banishing it entirely. A savage decision, truly, yet how could a prideful man of Eros's sort leave Apollo without the fruit of his wrath?
So he drew the arrow of love and shot it right through his bones. Letting it seep deep and gravely, spreading the lustful obsession of the most wicked charm. The utterly deadly one, making one obsessed and wretched over the darling of their desires.
Usually, his arrows were meant to strike those who wished to be deeply in love. Yet, as the rage was ravaging Eros's mind, he decided to make Apollo the most obsessed yet unhappy man in the entire world.
As for the other one, meant to banish the love, he shot at the daughter of the River's God.
The most beautiful nymph of all, with a face carved by the waves themselves. A chin utterly kind and cheeks wholly sweet, as eyes carried a gentleness of petals' peppered kisses. A wild birdie she was, basking carefree beneath the searing sun, as she lay and drank and danced without giving a mind to no mankind nor other little divinities. Nothing plagued her cheeky mind, and no worry could ever haunt her velvety forehead.
After all, she was the River God's most precious child, and he allowed her everything, guided by a parent's blissful love.
Her giggle bloomed in the nearby trees, and tender gaze lit the powdery midnight sky. A true beauty of utterly rare sight, so impossible it seemed too not be caught in Apollo's sight!
The God of Sun and Music and Poetry had never been in love. He enjoyed the bodily pleasures rather often, yet had never come upon a thing so deadly and wicked called love.
He knew that Gods and mortals joyed in it with the passion seething in their blood – for there were Hades and his Persephone, Aphrodite and Ares, even Orpheus and Eurydice, too, although it seemed that love of humankind was of a rather cruel sort.
Apollo, or, well, Satoru Gojo, as his true name was, never gave it much thought. The Goddesses and Gods were utterly beautiful, true, yet none of them had ever made his heart race with the swell and tenderness that all the poets wrote of.
He had never felt this tickling pinch his spine, nor the sudden blissful pain puncturing through his heart. No lover had ever bewitched his soul in an almost maddening way, and so he thought that the thing called love was simply not a part of his fate. Even if, that was rather fine too.
And yet… the serpents of fate are wicked.
Another summer evening it was, while Dionysus threw a joyous party as Gods usually liked to do. With wine spilling all over the golden cups and jolly laughter swirling through the tall grasses of the midnight land.
Gods there were of all sorts – trees and rivers and plants, each with loveliest offspring too, joined the grand feast.
It happened thirty moons or so before Eros shot Satoru with an arrow of maddening love. One evening, when the God who devoted his mind to no one set his eyes on… you.
A Goddess? Dearests, no.
As if you were the Goddess, he would fear that Aphrodite, driven by jealousy, would quickly pluck your eyes out. For the moment you entered the banquet held on the hidden beach, where waves rolled in deep foams, and moonlight spilt its cold kisses onto the heavy stones, Satoru needed to hold his breath.
This feeling, which he had read – written – about so often, suddenly bloomed in the swells of his heart. His hand flew towards his chest, crumpling the ivory tunic that covered the sizzling skin. His mind was struck, as if by a trickery spell, making him lose interest in the men and women chirping by his side.
The lyre in his hands felt heavy as he plucked the crystal strings, producing an unpleasant tone. But how could he not, if his eyes were devouring a beauty he'd never seen before?
And that evening, he followed you like a lost pup. With an ocean gaze lingering longer on the swells of your body, wrapped in a flimsy dress, and on your sweet cheeks, giggling foxily as the salty breeze smooched them. The flicker of the candles peppering long tables cast a lovely flame upon your skin, basking it in gold and warmth, as he imagined licking it clean.
Satoru Gojo was a poet too. A God of Poetry, after all, yet his mind was miserably empty whenever he tried to put your beauty into words. No one had ever shone brighter than you, and no giggle forced this weird, foreign feeling to seep through the marrow of his ribcage.
He was always responsible for the music and jolly, while his dearest friend Dionysus spilt the wine into guests' cups. The merry atmosphere tickled him in a pleasant way, and the mere thought of going back to one of his temples with a few little birdies forced a cheeky smile upon his brazen lips.
The women, Goddesses, and little divinities who didn't wish to be smooched by Satoru's muscular arms were indeed few. Yet the nymph who bewitched his mind in the utmost wretched way didn't bestow him with lovely eyes even once.
Dionysus noticed Apollo's frown crumbling, so he jumped to his side with a whisper, "Hm, isn't she your type, my dearest God?"
Satoru glanced at the slyness on Suguru's lips and bit the inside of his soft cheek. "That's the problem. And yet it seems I'm not quite hers."
Suguru pushed a raven lock of his hair back behind his ear, and lavender eyes oogled your giggling body with a slight grin. "Do you wish me to give her a bit of my special wine?"
The special wine was simply spiked with an aphrodisiac. Some Gods loved to use it to heighten their own sexual pleasure, while others too… made the object of their desires a bit mellow. A bit more balmy and sweet, and so Satoru already imagined your body melting beneath his fingers as he held it dearly within his delicate grasp.
Feeding you the special wine would be easy. And yet, Satoru didn't wish to be a bastard.
"Oh, but you are," Suguru chuckled, sensing the thought in his friend's mind. "I don't think there's any God more selfish than you."
Satoru knew it was the truth, for his character was rather… oh well… let's simply say he wasn't known to be the kindest and most lovable pick among the women. The most beautiful one? Surely. The best in offering sexual pleasures? Indeed. Yet he was the most arrogant bastard on the Mountain's peak, and every creature living beneath the Midetarrean sun knew of it far and well.
You most likely knew it too, so that's why the stars bouncing off your eyes did not look his way even for a second.
His head fell against Suguru's shoulder, the heavy wine coating his tongue with a sweet taste. His mind buzzed with a clash of drunken and desperate thoughts, a pulsing desire already flowing like liquid through his veins.
"I want to approach her in a nice way," he muttered, feeling Suguru's body tremble with wicked laughter.
"You can only dream, my God. She had rejected all attempts to woo her. The men and the Gods were rebuffed before they could grasp the weight of her eyes," Suguru hummed, feeling Satoru's head suddenly grow heavy on his shoulder.
"Is it her father's fault?"
Suguru shook his head. "The River God wishes for nothing more than to see his grandchildren's blooming cheeks. It's she who sniffs at all her suitors. After all, she is a virgin huntress, bound by Artemis's chastity laws." Satoru's head grew heavier. "You'd better forget about her, my God."
But how could he! His heart raced for no one but her. And even if she was a virgin beauty, Satoru didn't mind it at all, for he truly believed in the power of his charming soul. The arrogant confidence of the Sun God was truly impossible to dim!
And so that evening, Apollo decided to fulfil your father's deepest wish and become a man worthy of his daughter's hand. The one who would turn the virgin huntress into his most delicate, lovely petal.
At first, he began strolling around the meadows you usually spent your time in. Where the river curved and bent like a serpent's snake, and crystal droplets smooched your body, immersing you deep. You often sat with other sisters, and Satoru would approach you all with his foxed smile, dripping with a few sweetish words about your utter charm.
The other nymphs giggled, blushing gently at the lyricism spilling from his lips, as if the words of the most passionate, heart-throbbing kind were meant for them indeed. They looked at your unfazed face with a sly smile, knowing that their sister would reject Apollo's advances as she did with all her other suitors.
The Sun God knelt on the riverbank, looking down at your naked body hidden beneath the water's gentle swells. He could see nothing but the swell of your breasts, with perked nipples smooched by the river's kisses. You were meant to stay a virgin, true, but no one said you couldn't use the charms of yours to make the men spill miserably right beneath your feet.
So you glanced, for the first time, at God's idyllic face and waved your hand with a soft sigh. "I don't need your courtship, my God. There's nothing you can say that will force my mind to change. And to answer the question you most anticipate – no, I won't marry you."
Other suitors would back away instantly, feeling the intimidating air your glance carried across the lush plains. Your head tilted wickedly, lips curving into a playful beam, as if you knew the wretched state you always left them in.
Because a man's nature was to challenge his luck. Who didn't think that maybe their fate would be to change the virgin's mind? As all of them thought of you as the gentle, timid petal, not knowing that the virgin huntress was indeed a true beast hidden beneath the loveliest female cheeks!
But the Apollo, of course, couldn't be more turned on by your harsh rejection. The truth was that he almost didn't hear a word. No, instead he focused on the way your lips curved into a tricky smile. How crystalline droplets clung to your half-dipped breasts, with liquid sun spilling all over your warm skin. He traced them one by one, dripping from the damp hair and down the chest. His eyes seemed to be enamoured by your heavy gaze, slightly squinted and teasing, as if you already knew that your rejection would pinch his wretched heart.
And so a truthful, "My Goddess, you're ethereally beautiful with this wrath-wrinkle of yours," fell with his deep, obsessed sigh.
The nymphs gasped, covering their lips with gentle hands. Their mingling eyes glanced between your squinted gaze and the God's wretched sigh, as they awaited how this concern would unfold.
"I'm not a Goddess, and I don't need your praise," you said, your voice dripping with disinterest. "Find yourself another muse, my God. There's no need to waste your precious time on a simple nymph."
You bounced off the river's edge and swam to the other one, where the Sun God knelt. With the golden halo smooching his pale cheeks and ivory tunic crumpling on muscular shoulders. Feet clad in long, serpent sandals, golden laurel laying high on frosted head.
You've seen men of his sort, yet he was the first to look down on you with such a wretched gaze. Like a doomed lover, trapped in a circle of unrequited love, as if his heart had never swelled for any beauty but your gentlest soul.
He watched you carefully as you swam his way, unhurriedly, slowly. Water flowed over your body in soft waves, and warm wind shook the sole strings of your hair as it fell.
Your arms rested on the lush grass as you looked up at him through a curtain of wet lashes. "My God, I think it's time for you to go."
Satoru smiled – foxily, slyly, yet truthfully – before his hand reached out to cup your lovely cheek. You quickly pulled back, letting the tips of his fingers only catch a whisper of your soft lips.
His head tilted, a few creamy strands falling loosely over his straight brows. "I don't wish to hurt you, my Goddess." He grabbed the hem of his tunic. "I simply hope you'll grant me a chance."
He was kneeling, propping himself on his toes, as his fingers itched to grab a single lock of yours.
"I won't. I pledged Artemis my virginity. I'm a huntress, not your silly muse. Leave this place, or you'll taste the blood of my arrows."
And these words had indeed been bold, as all three realms of this world knew that no man had been more skilful in archery than Apollo himself.
If anyone else had spoken them in such a daring manner, the wrath of Apollo would bring painful consequences.
Yet when he heard it in this lovely yet viper-like tone of yours, a shiver ran down his spine. His hair stood on end as if electrified, and an ethereal aura smouldering around his figure suddenly intensified.
He wasn't afraid, oh surely no.
But rather, the swelling enamour, pinching his fingertips, washed over his heart. Your wicked personality wasn't an issue of any sort, but rather made the Sun God burn with an unexplainable desire. Heat that seeped down to his loins as he took a whistling breath.
"My Goddess, do you know who you're threatening to?"
You knew, of course, yet the urge to play with his boastful ego suddenly proved stronger than the choice to simply leave him be. You've met men like him before – too proud, too arrogant, the ones who'd never heard the word no. Yet of all you'd rejected, Apollo – Satoru Gojo – was the worst of all.
He was the Sun God, after all, who took satisfaction in the fact that the world, indeed, revolved around him. A personification of vanity and smugness, surpassing even Narcissus's pompous pride.
He knew what spell his wicked beauty cast over the nymph's petal cheeks. He knew the virgin maiden would fall for him most pitiably, needing only a single glance from his lustful eyes. His touch was soft, and his hands roamed over the women's tender bodies in the most loving way, yet never leaving them with the true tenderness that should fill his heart.
Satoru Gojo was a simple scum you wished to have nothing to do with. A cheeky smile tugged at your lips as you rested your arms on the river's edge and lifted half your body out of the water.
He didn't try to hide the ocean gaze, immediately snapping down towards your perked nipples, with crystal droplets dripping down the lush glass. Your head tilted, eyes turning kitty-like, as the blessed kisses of sunshine, of his sun, peppered your wet cheeks.
"To just yet another miserable man," fell almost mockingly, prompting a sudden movement around his hips. You've noticed it, and so you turned your lips into a disgusted grimace. "Go away, my God, and know my mercy. I won't be that nice next time."
You fully lifted yourself from the water, standing next to his kneeling body, naked. His gaze followed up your thighs, the mound of your pussy, the plush of your belly, tracing every crystalline line carving into your body. When it finally met your eyes, his throat bobbed.
"My Goddess, you're truly underestimating my feelings for you."
A scoff slipped past your lips as your eyes rolled. "For the God of Poetry, I expected more flowery words."
And so, ignoring whether he wished to say anything next, you simply passed him by. Going deeper into the woods, leaving the Sun God with nothing but the lingering fragrance of your blooming skin in the air, and the painfully, wickedly wretched pleasure bubbling in his loins.
𖤓 𖤓 𖤓
You truly thought that he would give up.
That the Sun God, like any other man, wouldn't wish to pursue a woman who looked at him with nothing but a deep scowl between her beautiful brows.
And yet, for the next thirty moons, he always seemed to be there. Somewhere around, following you like a shadow, with eyes and lips and mind always speaking loudly, giving you neither peace nor serenity among the quiet fields of your home.
Whenever you went hunting, his arrows sliced through the air faster than yours, striking the animals and beasts with power that crumbled the heavens themselves, and a gasp always slipped past your lips.
Quiet, voiceless, yet somehow leaving you speechless upon seeing the strength the Sun God possessed.
He found you every single day, appearing like a spectre by the riverbank, a bow slung over his muscular shoulder, gold and softly feathered, mingling beneath the rising sun.
"Where are we going today, my Goddess?" He jumped to your side with a smile, immediately sniffing the fresh, flowery scent that clung to your sparkling hair.
You gave him no mind, simply following deeper into the warm, moist woods. The sun was barely high, and so you watched the trees wake from the slumber's tight arms.
"I'm going for breakfast, and you can do whatever you want."
Yet you knew that no matter how mundane your day was, Satoru Gojo would follow you nonstop. Just to steal a glance at your lips as you wrapped them around the orange's sweetest juice, the sugary stickiness dripping down your blooming cheeks. To watch the way your back bent whenever you drew yet another deadly arrow. How muscles beneath your flimsy tunic worked, and the sweat bubbled at the back of your neck as he traced it with a hungry gaze.
A few weeks had to pass before you started to tolerate his daily company.
He still acted bold and proud, often boasting like a peacock right in front of your irritated eyes, yet tried to keep his hands away, even though you'd noticed how his fingers curled whenever your tunic brushed their tips.
But then one day… something had changed.
You didn't know what, but well, he did.
Eros's wicked arrow had struck his bones, making his gut leak with maddening love. He was aware of the wretched ache in his heart, yet only after being struck by a love-spell of sorts did something beastly unlock in his mind.
As for the arrow meant to banish love, Eros shot it towards Apollo's dearest one. As all the Gods on Olympus already knew of his wretched state, Eros played his dirty trick, ensuring that the sweetest nymph would never glance at Apollo again.
But… well. A man in such haunting love is truly a hellish creature himself.
When the love-bound arrow struck his back, he took it with a wicked pleasure. Yet, when he saw another one flying boldly towards the curve of yours, he grabbed it swiftly, before the leaking peak could ever brush your skin.
It was a sudden movement as he stepped closer, his hand shooting toward something over your shoulder.
It happened yet another day, as you both walked the serpentine paths through his temple's lush garden. There's a little cove I wish to show you. How about a quick dip? After spending a month in his presence, you sighed and nodded, as nothing gave you more wicked pleasure than seeing him lose his mind at the sight of your naked body in fresh mountain waters.
And so, while your tunic fell to the ground and a warm wind brushed your hair with a soft tickle, he suddenly stepped closer.
Too close. Before a sudden crack of splintering wood sounded behind you, he drew an arrow, his long fingers clenching it.
"What is it?" you furrowed, looking at the long wooden arrow crushed in his strong grip.
He threw it to the side, taking the ivory tunic off his body. "Nothing, probably someone's lost arrow. Give it no mind."
But how could you, when something deep in your chest panged? You were a huntress, after all, so how could you not notice an arrow slashing at your side? There was never a moment when you would let your guard down, and yet, being in Satoru's presence somehow pulled a blissful laziness to seep into your mind.
He was always there – looking, watching, carefully observing each of your moves. Swooshing away a few men who dared to approach your side while he kept his eyes on you for too long.
To tear their limbs apart and unleash plagues across their lands with a single arrow. Something… you didn't know about, since there was no need to trouble your sweet mind. To reveal a sinister side of him that would shatter the gradually improving image you held of him.
His mind was already wicked. Heart wrenched by the pull of love so strong that it seeped into him from the inside. So the moment the love arrow struck his back, the feelings he had tried to keep within his heart suddenly burst with brutish, uncontrollable force.
He simply needed to make you his.
So you hummed softly, taking the first step into the little cove, with water slipping in from the nearby sea. A crisp chill hugged your limbs as you took a deep breath.
He watched you with a smile before dipping into the water too. "Rather good, isn't it?"
You nodded, leaning your arms over one of the sizzling stones. "Mhm."
Your bashful eyes roved over his ethereal body, lingering a moment longer on the broad, muscular back and meaty thighs. A warmth seeped through your loins, so you quickly looked away.
But he saw it. Of course he did, and so his body drifted a little closer, just to feel the saltiness wrapping your skin. Your hair fell loosely over your wet shoulder, and warmth crept up your soft neck.
The slight ache from the morning's hunt still pinched your muscles, so you turned to him again, only to see that he had suddenly come far too close.
A soft cough escaped your throat as you pressed yourself closer to the stone. "Could you, hm, give me a quick massage, my God?"
Satoru chuckled. "A massage? Is that how you wish to use the powerful Sun God?"
A scoff slipped past your lips as you turned back and rested your cheek against the warm stone. With eyes slightly lidded, you knew he, anyway, would give you whatever you wanted.
"Is there anything else you're good for?" A cheeky question slipped past your lips, followed by a low sigh.
He stood mere millimetres from your arched back, and the heat radiating from his body was smouldering your drenched skin. Long, thick fingers settled gently on your shoulders before he began pressing the muscles. Your body melted beneath his strong touch, and your mind went all fuzzy – nothing but soft moans and sighs would fill the little, hidden cove.
"I'm sure you can find a few things you could make good use of," his voice dripped with seduction, tickling your hair-covered cheeks.
A tsk fell past your lips. "You have only filth in your mind."
Well, how could he not? When your back arched so deliciously, with water hugging solely your slightly dipped hips? He could see the swell of your ass almost brushing his thighs, and if he took a little step forward, the tip of his leaking cock would surely brush your skin.
It was a blessing that you lay pressed to the stone in a blissfully unaware state, not knowing that the Sun God was going through pure torture right behind your back. With the fat, long cock sticking to his abdomen, little pearls of precum dripping down the veiny curve.
"You make me act filthy, my Goddess."
A month ago, you would have smacked his cheek and left him be. But now, with his fingers digging deep into the muscles of your back, a lovely laugh slipped past your lips.
"It's a pity I'm a wretched virgin, hm?" You straightened your spine, as if trying to give him a better view. "My God, you truly have extraordinary restraint."
Oh, how he loved this cheeky side of yours. The pure filth spilling from your virgin lips, eyes taking on a nasty look whenever you caught him staring at your nipples peeking through the tunic. The way you always undressed yourself in front of him without blushing like a birdie, taking full pleasure in the fact that he couldn't touch you as he wished.
Who said that a virgin should be timid and cowardly? If you could keep your chastity while still enjoying the wretched state you put men in?
And which God would be more fun to tease than the one who slipped through numerous affairs?
Satoru hummed, pressing your back a little harder. Slipping lower, and lower, through your ribcage and waist, rolling the little dimples just above your hips. "Have I? I'm afraid this restraint might one day snap."
A shudder ran down your spine as you tried to keep your head steady. Your bow lay still on the river's bank, and if he tried to misbehave even a bit, you would simply shoot him clean.
And yet, your hips rolled, as if trying to chase the pleasure his touch gave. "I'll be there when it happens." You looked over your shoulder, not missing the squint he gave you… "And I'll make sure to bring you to your senses," …and the reddened tip sticking to his hips. "I think you might wish to take care of it. Maybe with one of your muses?"
Or whores, as you actually wanted to say.
His cock trembled as you looked at it, and Satoru could only chuckle. Nastily, mischievously, with the fingers pulling your hips a bit closer. Yet not close enough for your wet pussy to feel the meaty shaft graze her lips.
"You are my muse, Goddess," he leaned closer, his warm breath brushing your cheeks. "Do you wish to hear the poems I've written about you?"
The sizzling sun licked your spine, eyes followed as his plush lips leaned to your ear. "Are they as filthy as your mind?"
He nodded, fingers slipping down towards the swell of your hips. Rolling deep circles, loosening the tightness in your muscles. "How could they not?" Snowy hair almost tickled your ear. "Who do you think I pleasure myself to? You may be a virgin, my Goddess, but I have my needs too."
With a sudden movement, he flipped you over, pressing your back to the warm stone. His thick cock stuck to the white trail of his abdomen, yet still not touching your dripping cunt.
You may've pledged chastity, yet you couldn't control your body's simple needs.
"You can't do anything to me," you said, yet something in your voice quivered.
His head tilted wickedly, and his eyes shone as he gripped the fat shaft. "But you can watch, hm?" A thumb swirled over the pearly tip, smearing the sticky cum over the reddened head. "Or is it also against your chastity?"
Maybe it was. Yet your head shook as back pressed closer to the stone. The water swelled over your hips, leaving your breasts bare to his starving gaze.
"Hm, thought so." His fingers slipped to your cheek, brushing a few wet locks away. "My Goddess, you truly are a wicked creature."
Pleasure, distress, haunting desire clashed with each other in your mind, yet your body froze in place. Lips fell only slightly open, eyes bulging like porcelain plates, seeing the fatness he gripped. Leaking with creamy droplets of precum, soaking his long fingers and veiny thickness.
Saying he was large would be an understatement.
Something in your belly squeezed, imagining his bulging head hit the deepest–
"Stop," the word slipped out in a shudder as you turned your head away. With warm cheeks and a trembling lip, as if the Sun God's look of himself pleasuring himself solely on your blooming face were against every pledge you had made. "Go and find one of your filthy muses."
Satoru chuckled before his fingers pinched your chin, turning your head back. He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing yours. "I can't think of anyone but you, my Goddess. Look what a wretched man I am because of you." His thumb brushed your lower lip, then slipped boldly onto your tongue. "Do you truly wish to put your Sun God through such a tor–"
Yet before he could finish, your hand met his cheek. A slap bounced off the water, turning his face left. To bring it back to face your wrath, you slapped it again.
His creamy face bloomed like the softest rose, and a shiver of pleasure ran down his spine. Excitement pinched his heart as fingers clenched around the fat shaft with a low, groany moan.
He bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at your face, burning with rage. "Slap me again, my Goddess, and I'll make you arch that pretty ass of yours for me again."
You didn't know where this sudden change had come from, yet the man standing in front of you was not the one who had pestered you for the past thirty moons.
No, as Satoru Gojo, who now stood mere millimetres from your body, with his musky scent clouding you tight and his fat cock trembling at the sheer look of yours – look much, much madder.
Wretched, obsessed, with the flame dancing behind his watery eyes and a wicked smile tugging at his rosy lips
Another shiver ran down your spine when he started pumping his shaft faster. Smearing the creamy cum all over the bulging veins, throwing his head back yet still following the gentle rise of your trembling breasts.
The rage bubbled beneath your heart, and a tiny thread of heat smouldered on your cheeks. He leaned a bit closer, and closer, and closer, until his forehead rested against your shoulder. He didn't touch you in any other way, yet the sole impact left you breathless.
"My Goddess, you smell so good," he took a deep breath close to your neck, letting another groan escape his lips. "So delicious, ah, I can only imagine how sweet the scent is down there."
A shuddered breath escaped your tightened throat, feeling his muscular, massive body looming over yours like a deathly threat. Long fingers pumped his cock faster, breathless moans hit your drenched skin, before he finally stilled.
With the gentle, petal kiss upon your shoulder and his cheek nuzzling against your skin.
Something warm spilt over your belly. And you didn't need to look down to know what it would be.
"You're disgusting," fell in pure wrath, as you pushed him away. "Nothing but filthy scum. I hope this satisfied your hunger, because the next time I see you, my God, not even your wicked arrows will be able to save you from my rage."
You left the water with a shuddering, vexing tremor washing over your spine, and this little, agonisingly rubbing feeling that spilt hotly all over your mind.
Satoru followed your body with a slick smile, the saltiness of your skin still tasting heavy on his lips.
The Sun God was of a cunning nature. Wicked and wrathful, always doing things one way. His way.
Three weeks had passed before he had a chance to see you again.
His heart heaved in agony as he couldn't find you anywhere. As always, he came at the first break of day to join you on the morning hunt, but you simply weren't there. Waiting for him with a scowl, yet still giggling at all his foolish jokes and accepting a bit of help.
He was waiting by the river's bank from morning till night, yet you hadn't appeared even once. As if the waves themselves had trapped you beneath the surface.
He asked around – the nymphs, the Goddesses, the plains – yet everyone said they hadn't seen you for days. Or maybe they simply lied to him, as you couldn't simply disappear.
And so for the next three weeks, he walked through the lands like a shadow. He barely enjoyed anyone's company, sitting in his temple only to get drunk on the sweetest wine, letting his creamy skin be scorched beneath his own, merciless sun. A shadow of a man he was, as his heart simply couldn't bear the separation you imposed with such anger.
After two weeks, he met his twin sister, Artemis, to whom you pledged your chastity. He loved his sister dearly and knew her like the back of his hand. Thus, with a single glance, he could tell she knew everything that had happened between the two of you.
And based on her furrowed forehead and tsk that fell when she saw his grinning face entering her temple – she wasn't happy.
"I won't tell you where she is," she murmured, brushing her long, creamy hair aside as she enjoyed the warm kisses in the sun.
She lay on the sofa by her pool, with nothing but a long tunic gently wrapped around her body. Satoru hung over her wrinkled forehead and pressed a finger to satin skin. "My sister, such a beautiful woman you are, and yet you always seem so angry."
Shihori smacked his hand, glancing up at his brother with the same blue eyes. "Because you always make me angry, fool."
Satoru lifted her legs and rested them on his thighs as he joined her on the sofa. "Tell me where she is."
Shihori couldn't care less about her brother's wicked wish, so she shook her head. "You know she pledged her virginity, hm?"
Satoru hummed, playing with the long tunic as he brushed his sister's ankles. "I do."
"So you also must know what will happen if she breaks her vow?"
Of course he knew. That's why he came here.
"What if I told you I love her?" he asked, drawing his sister's attention. "I want to make her my wife. Give her to me, and I promise I will be in your debt forever."
Shihori propped herself up on elbows, letting long white hair brush her rosy cheeks. She was as beautiful as her younger brother – by a minute only. Possessing the same archery skill and a power that trembled the heavens.
With a slim chin and wicked eyes, matching the proudish smile. Strong and bold, with neatly carved muscles bulging beneath her satin skin and an authoritative tone that always made Satoru slightly squirm. But she was his older sister, after all, so how could he not feel the utter love and respect for the same blood?
"And why would I do that?" Shihori lifted her straight brow. "Why would I change my rules for this little nymph?"
"Because you love me," Satoru grinned. "And I suppose it would be rather proper to remind you that enjoying women's company also counts as losing one's virginity. My dearest virgin-goddess sister."
Shihori squinted, kicking his side with her foot. "Whatever I do with my nymphs is none of your business."
Satoru grabbed her ankle before biting her big toe, just as he used to tease her when they were children.
"I suppose some Gods would be interested in how the protector of young women and their virginity fucks with her dearest followers," he chuckled as she kicked him again. "You're no better than me, my sister. The same scum-blood runs in our veins. So let me have her, and I won't say a word."
Shihori glared at him. Morality and the need to give her little brother everything were clearly at war in her mind before she waved her hand and lay back down.
"Fine, I won't punish her. Just don't do anything stupid," she laughed, feeling Satoru's sweet kiss on her cheek. "She'll join another feast in a week. Just wait for her there. Oh, and bring me some of this Suguru's special wine."
Satoru tilted his head, another wicked grin already tugging at his lips. He knew his sister wasn't the saint everyone took her for, yet he had no idea how coy she was.
"And what do you need an aphrodisiac-spiked wine for?"
She opened one eye, shooting a set of daggers straight at his heart. But before another bark could pass her plush lips, Satoru chuckled once again. "Ah, what was this rumour, hm…" His eyes gleamed with a foul grin.
"What rumour?" Shihori asked through her teeth, yet the rosy warmth hit her cheeks.
Satoru stood up from the sofa, giving his muscular back a long, groany stretch. He scratched his chin before looking over his shoulder towards his sister. Oh, her anger only fueled his playful mind.
"Nothing, just that our dearest stepmother has been surprisingly benevolent lately," he observed, another wave of warmth wrapping around her neck. "I suppose it's because Hera truly enjoys the company of her stepdaughter. I wonder what makes her so happy that even Zeus no longer gets scolded for all his affairs."
Shihori slipped a pillow from beneath her head and threw it at his head. "Go out, before I change my mind!"
And so he left, with a crackling chuckle bouncing off the temple's walls and his older sister burning from embarrassment.
Yet now, with his sister's blessing, there was nothing that could stop him from pursuing your love.
And so he knew that the next time you met, he would make you his, whether you liked it or not.
𖤓 𖤓 𖤓
The moon spilt coldly over the feast's heavy tables as the Gods and Goddesses gathered around the flickering candles. The night was warm, as the summer breeze tickled the cheerful cheeks of the giggling nymphs, who listened to Satoru playing soft harp tunes.
An ivory tunic, as always, fell down his muscular shoulders, as the moon spilt dripping kisses on the lightened side of his face.
Finger played softly through the harp's gentle strings, yet lingered on your laughing cheeks. Something panged deep in his chest at how carefree you were with other divinities. You sipped your wine without giving Satoru much thought, as if you hadn't disappeared from Earth for the past three weeks.
Your laugh sliced sweetly through the air, tickling his ears. He desperately tried to force eye contact, yet you gave him nothing but the lovely side of your cheek.
An irritated tsk escaped his lips, an unpleasant anger bubbling deep in his chest. A few Gods approached you with a smile, forcing another wave of rage to wash over Satoru's spine.
Before he could step in, seeing how you slowly warmed yourself to some small God's side, a low, chuckling whistle slashed through the air.
"It seems like things didn't work your way," Suguru said, brushing Satoru's arm with his. "What? She rejected you?"
Satoru sighed, rolling his tense shoulders. "She's just a little nervous."
Suguru squinted his lavender eyes, clearly dissatisfied with such a roundabout answer. Raven hair tickled Satoru's cheek as he tilted his head. Satoru rarely saw his friend concerned with anyone but him, yet his forehead furrowed with a gentle wrinkle.
"Give her some of this wine," Satoru mumbled.
Suguru drew in a long breath, shooting his head towards Satoru. "But you said–"
He started, but Satoru quickly added. "I know what I said." He bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes squinting furiously. "Give her a little. Just to soothe her a bit."
Suguru chuckled, hitting his friend's back. "As you wish, my God."
"Ah, also, prepare a bit for Shihori."
Looking over his shoulder, Suguru rolled a laugh. "Your sister? What does she need it for?"
Satoru gestured with his chin towards the start of the table, where three of the brothers and their wives sat among the elite. With Persephone straddling Hades's hips, a quiet goddess wrapped around Poseidon's arm, and Hera… sitting utterly bored and giving Zeus's drunken laugh no mind.
Suguru followed his gaze before a devilish laugh escaped his throat. "Don't tell me she fucks with the queen mother herself?"
Satoru crossed his arms over his broad chest and let out a soft hum. Suguru tilted his head, admiring Hera's gentle cheeks. "Well, she's quite beautiful. No wonder she's stopped going crazy over Zeus's affairs lately."
Satoru watched as his friend took another pot of wine before rejoining the Gods. His golden tongue whispered the sweetest secrets, and the divinities laughed and blushed beneath Dionysus's soothing lines. After all, a God of Laughter, Wine and Theatre, he knew exactly how to play on people's minds.
You weren't an exception. As he approached and wrapped his arms around you and your friend, a gentle laugh made your eyes lift. Satoru bit the inside of his cheek, catching Suguru's sly glance, while his fingers clenched around your soft arm.
But still, he poured you another cup of the sweetest wine, watching you close as you took a sip. And another, another, another, before humming softly about how delicious it tastes.
A few minutes passed before something warm began to spill across your chest. A kind of fog clouded your mind – sweet and gentle, yet sizzling like the sun.
The nymph sitting right next to you grabbed your arm, looking at your hottish face with a furrow. "Hey, are you okay? Do you need some water?"
You drew in a sharp breath, feeling her cold skin against yours. Your head shook as a soft "I'm fine" barely passed your lips.
Excusing yourself, you rose from the chair and headed to a quieter part of the beach, where gentle waves lapped inside the small cove. Surrounded by the forest and shielded by tall trees, the spot offered a peaceful retreat. The salty breeze gently touched your cheeks, while your throat felt parched, and you scratched it with long nails.
The fog clouding your head was getting thicker, denser, spreading all over your body till the fingertips tingled with a pinching pleasure.
Something wet dripped down your inner thighs, and as you hid yourself behind a tree and slipped a hand beneath the long dress, you felt the stickiness coating your sizzling skin. But more so… the moment your finger brushed your swollen folds, a low bounce of the softly rolling waves.
"Fuck," slipped in a whisper, as you felt the burning pleasure fill your lower belly.
You looked around, seeing that neither mortal nor God peered into the little cove. The bay seemed completely private, with nothing but moonlight spilling onto the smooth sand and soft whispers rolling off the crystal waves.
You took a deep breath, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together. Just to feel a faint friction, yet too embarrassed to slip your finger up again.
You've never felt it before. This… sensation.
Pleasure.
Or maybe you did, yet your mind refused to accept that Apollo, or Satoru Gojo, was the only man who woke a dangerous flame deep in your chest.
Maybe you simply wished to forget about the warmth that boiled deep within your lower belly when his muscular body stood right in front of yours. The look on his handsome face, lost in utter pleasure, and his long fingers wrapped around his filthy cock.
You tried not to think of it again, as the moment the image of his shaft slipped again into your mind, another moany sigh rolled past your lips. Your pussy clenched around nothing, letting another batch of stickiness coat your thighs. Trickling down the skin, till you've noticed a little, wet drop landing on the sand.
"Fuck, fuckfuckfuck," you cried, feeling the burning sensation pinch your skin harder. Perking your nipples, softening your body, as if preparing you to accept the pleasure that needed to be spilt.
Bracing yourself against the stony wall, you took a few steps. On trembling legs, you felt the weakness slowly seep into your marrow. You walked slowly, trying to go deeper into the nearby forest, just to reach the river.
Somewhere safe.
You moved slowly, with wetness dripping down your legs and heavy breaths escaping your burning lungs. Your eyes were misty, nearly teary, as the feverish, floral heat enveloped your entire body.
Waves rolled past your bare feet, sandals long forgotten somewhere in the back. Your burning body couldn't bear the dress clinging to your skin, so you began to undress unconsciously.
One cloth after another, before falling down your knees, to crawl towards the river's banks.
"Do you need help, my Goddess?"
Someone's voice filled your balmy mind.
No, not someone's.
His.
Of the God whom you wished to see the last, as the sole fragrance of his skin pinched your senses in an utmost sinful way.
And, oh, he must've watched you now in such an embarrassing stance!
Kneeling with your sizzling body, you shed the sea-drenched dress behind you. The intense desire overwhelmed your reason as you presented yourself fully before his daring gaze.
"Go away," you barely breathed. "You can't see me in such a state."
But Satoru merely chuckled before you heard his heavy footsteps coming your way. Ocean eyes hummed at all the garments you'd left behind before settling on your clenched thighs and slightly arched back as you tried to crawl towards the nearest river.
He squinted, seeing the wetness dripping down your thighs and a gentle shimmer from your swollen pussy.
"My Goddess, it seems that you do feel unwell," He chuckled, taking another step your way. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Your head shook as you tried to crawl faster, only to get away from him as fast as you could. An attempt to stand up ended in a miserable fall onto the sand, drawing a soft giggle from Satoru's lips. He knelt by your side, brushing away a few strands of hair sticking to your cheeks.
"Oh my," he hummed, seeing the utter loveliness of your drugged face.
With cheeks sweet as fresh cherries and eyes softened by an alluring scowl. A gentle pout tugged at your lips as you unconsciously nuzzled against his skin. Another hand cupped your cheek as he held your face in a possessive grip. His big thumbs, tight yet delicate, brushed your skin.
"What is it, my Goddess?" He whispered, allowing a lenient sigh to spill past your lips. "What happened here, hm? Are you a bit too drunk?"
You nodded, thinking of nothing but the pleasant grip of his fingers.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, you were slowly giving in.
A miserable attempt to push him away ended solely with you even more pathetically landing on the soft sand. Your back hit it with a dull thud, as Satoru placed his fingers on your knees. Thumb rolled gently in circles, as if he knew how much pleasure your body took from each brush of his skin.
"Say it," he muttered, leaning closer. Plush lips brushed one of your knees, eyes never leaving your fogged face. "Say that you want me to help you, my Goddess. I know how to make you feel good."
Oh, and you knew too, which is why your knees tried to close again. But his grip was too strong, and he brutally forced them forward, folding you in half.
With your bare pussy dripping filthy onto the sand and perked nipples waiting to be softly brushed by his thumb.
The moonlight kissed his handsome, sharp side as he leaned in once again. To hang right over your face, observing with wicked pleasure the tears forming beneath your lids. As if he could see the fuzzy mess of your mind, with morality and a simple, human need drawing a brutal tight.
"I c-can't," you mumbled, feeling the heat drip down your tongue. It felt much heavier than before, barely touching your feverish roof. "Stop, I can't, the chastity–"
"Shhh," Satoru cooed, pressing your thighs to your chest. Till the swell of your ass glued off the drenched sand. "Artemis will forgive you."
His nose traced the plush of your cheek. Lips peppering your skin softly, leaving traces down your chin. His tongue swirled sweetly around one of your nipples, through the burning neck, perked breasts.
You wished to fight it – you truly did, yet a sugary moan slipped past your lips.
"No, she–ah!" you cried, as he softly bit your nipple.
"It's alright, my Goddess. Don't resist it," he murmured, with one hand feeling your breasts as his lips traced a path down your body. He gently bit, grazed, and nipped your skin before resting his cheek against your mound. "Allow me to take care of you. Just say you want it," he whispered, as his finger rolled your nipple, causing another cry to escape your lips.
"I'm a v-virgin, wait…" Your hand landed on Satoru's head, tugging softly on his hair.
Satoru groaned, feeling your gentle finger scratch his scalp. "I'll take good care of you. It won't hurt, I promise," he mumbled right into the drenched mound of your cunt, as the fragrance of sugary juices already hit his senses. "Fuck, my Goddess. Just let me have a taste. I won't put it in…" promise?
You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling his warm breath almost brush your core. Not quite, yet the mere sight of him, lying so handsomely between your thighs, was enough to force a nod.
A nod, which would never happen if your mind wasn't on the verge of spilling. If your body wasn't melting beneath his touch, thighs spreading even wider, just to open your cunt to his starving mouth.
It was utterly embarrassing, humiliating, mostly sinful act and yet… when his tongue finally licked the juices off your clit, a shuddering moan bounced off the cove's stones.
He didn't waste a time, pushing the drenched muscle right inside your spasming cunt. Slurping, ravishing on the waves of wetness that spilt from your hole in unnaturally large bursts. Droplet after droplet, trickling down his chin and landing softly on the sand.
"My Goddess, fuck, I knew you would taste so good," he slurred, letting your juices stick to his lips. "My sweetest love, mhm, I was waiting a month for you."
Your fingers clenched around his hair as you tried to slightly pull him back. "W-wait, that's–nghhh–too much, my God!"
Your body had always been much weaker than his, but now, with neediness running through your blood, it seemed impossible to do anything but allow yourself to be wrapped in his lips.
He took your hand, slipping it down your belly. Down to your clenching cunt, only to press your two fingers against the swollen clit.
"Do you feel it, my Goddess?" He chuckled, looking up at your warm cheeks. "Do you feel how wet you are? That's what you wanted to take away from me."
He directed your pads to press softly, pinchily, till another moan spilt past your lips. His tongue slurping on your tight core, fingers of one hand rolling your nipples. Squeezing the plush breasts, till a painful pleasure tickled your spine.
And the other hand…
"Wait!" You screamed, quickly catching his wrist. "N-no penetration… just…" Oh dearest, how embarrassing it was to say out loud! "… use your tongue. I can't lose my virginity."
My sweet foolish nymph, Satoru thought, before an innocent, "Of course, my Goddess," fell past his plush lips.
The waves and waves of ethereal pleasure washed over your spine as he devoured your sweet pussy with a starving need. Nose all glued with your juices, cheeks nastily squeezed by your trembling thighs, tongue working on your clit and hole, trying to stretch her as much as he could.
His creamy forehead furrowed with a wrinkle, brows tight, as you pushed a few soft strands of his hair away.
"My God, please t-take a breath," you cried, yet the spilling lustfulness seeped like a flame through your skin. "I'm–mhmm–t-there's something…" Before you could point at your lower belly, his hand pressed right there.
Squeezing your little pouch, as if trying to feel the slick, filthy cum splashing beneath your skin.
"You need to cum, my Goddess," he mumbled drunkenly, sucking on your plush clit. "But for that, I need to put my finger in."
You bit your lower lip, looking down at his wretched face.
His cheek nuzzled against your soft thigh, kissing the clit softly. "Please? Just a finger. I promise, it'll be fine."
Oh, he looked stunning. With those alluring eyes and innocent pout, as if aware that his angelic face alone was enough to make your head spin.
So you nodded, rather unconsciously, and watched him push one finger in.
"Oh," slipped moany at the new feeling. "Oh, my God, mhmm, i-it's–"
"Now you can cum for me," Satoru whispered, going back to sucking your clit.
He knew where your sweet spot was – how couldn't he? – so within a second, you started squirming beneath his grip.
One of his hands rested on your belly while the other was deep inside your tight, clenching walls. He kissed, brushed, and lightly peppered your most sensitive spot with his finger until your thighs finally clenched around his head.
Locking him in a tight, shuddering embrace as he drunkenly moaned over your spilling juices. With a single flick of his tongue, you melted beneath his maddening touch, squirting all over his cheeks, chin and nose, till the Sun God was left nothing but a wretched man, hugging nastily to your velvety skin.
Your head felt a bit less feverish, with the crimson fog finally clearing from in front of your eyes and fresh summer air finally filling your lungs.
For a mere second, you felt normal again.
Satoru still lay between your spread legs, kissing the slippery skin of your inner thighs softly.
"Welcome back, my Goddess," he muttered, licking the last juices dripping from your pussy.
You watched him with pure terror swirling behind your eyes. "I… this feeling…"
"Mmm," he hummed, softly biting a plush of your thigh. "Someone must've spiked your wine, my Goddess. Have you angered anyone recently?"
Oh, he was such a scum.
Your lovely brows furrowed, a drop of sweat slipping down your temple. "No, I… I don't know. There was…" you, wanted to slip, yet you bit down on your tongue.
Satoru pouted, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. "My Goddess, I vow to find that bastard and slash his throat," he whispered, kissing your thigh and moving upward, even biting gently into your calf. "But for now, brace yourself for another wave."
And true to his promise, the heat once more kissed your cheeks. It climbed up your neck, seeped into fingertips, curled beneath lower belly, and caused another slick to slide down your cunt.
A fogginess once again swirled in front of your eyes, and an anxiety bubbled somewhere deep in your tightened throat.
Satoru flipped you onto your belly, with a soft, "Shhh, it's fine, my Goddess. You'll be fine."
Gentle, wet kisses landed on your shivering spine, leaving hottish traces down the skin.
"What a-are you doing?" fell shuddered.
But you didn't catch his reply. Truly, you heard nothing at all but the swoosh of his tunic as it landed close to your sand-plastered face.
"My God–ah!" Slipped in a pitched moan, as something fat poked on your swollen pussy.
The heat was teasing, gently pinching your damp folds, rolling waves of intense pleasure whenever Satoru stirred your cunt. His fingers spread the heat in a soft hum, and something heavy, round, pressed against your tight entrance.
"My God, what–"
"My love," Satoru let out an utterly innocent whimper, as if trying to stifle the tears wracking beneath his lids. You couldn't see the devilish smile tugging at his lips, his face tightly pressed into the sand. "Allow me to make you feel good. I can make the pain go away, just let me…" His swollen head slipped in a little, forcing a shattered moan from your throat.
"Wait!" You tried to crawl away, but he pressed a hand between your shoulder blades. Keeping you tight in place, with his massive body fully resting on yours.
"It's okay, my love. It won't hurt, I promise," he hummed, another hand massaging the swell of your hips. Spreading your drenched folds a bit farther to see the tip of his cock getting sucked by your weeping cunt. "My Goddess, don't make her wait any longer. She's just wishing to get fucked, ahh."
You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stop your hips from slamming against his. As, dearest heavens, the way his sole head stretched your cunt brought an unparalleled, maddened pleasure, bubbling deep inside your belly. The pledge you made re chastity was trying to fight the aroused, lustful thoughts. The thick, warm fog that made your body liquefy beneath his touch, and your mind go all hot.
"My virginity–" You started, yet Satoru quickly snapped back.
"I talked to my sister, love. She won't punish you," he whispered, leaning down to lick a long stripe down your spine. "Because now you're mine. So say you want it, hm? Say you want me to fuck your tight cunt and fill her up."
He bit, licked, kissed your skin, while slowly, oh so painfully slow, poking your drenched hole.
"Just the tip, my love," he whispered, brushing away a few strands of hair hiding your lovely side. "I don't want to hurt you, my Goddess. I'll slip just a little tip."
And with an arousal fogging your mind, you nodded. Forcing a wicked laugh past his plush lips as he kissed your cheek.
"Mhm, that's right, my love," his cock slid through your tight walls, snugging inside your plush warmth. "Oh fuck, my Goddess, you truly are a fucking virgin."
You drew in a sharp breath, feeling his heavy cock slip into your belly. It was anything but the tip, forcing a sudden burst of tears to roll down your cheeks.
The pain mixed with pleasure as his shaft forced its way deep inside your pussy. You could feel every pulsing vein throbbing against your walls, the pumped head smooching your sweet spot, as he pushed and pushed, while pressing your body to the sand.
A moany cry bounced pitifully off the crystal waves before he quickly rolled you again.
This time, your back hit the sand, thighs folding up to your chest.
And when you looked up at his face… oh.
The Sun God hung over your crying cheeks with nothing but an utterly wicked, handsome smile. Eyes shining beneath the cold moon, adding to their ocean-blue hues a kiss of sin. He giggled, kissing the single tear that soaked your cheek.
And an angel, no, rather a demon, keeping you in his tight, possessed embrace.
Your hands pressed to his chest, as he pushed harder. "My God, you said just the tip," fell harshly, seeing a grin coiling in his gaze.
"My Goddess, you truly are ruthless," he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips. "How could I ever lie to you? I'm barely in, I promise."
Yet when you tried to look down, his strong fingers grabbed your chin, keeping your eyes fixed on his.
"You don't trust me?" He pouted, peppering your skin with soft kisses. "Don't look down there, my love. Focus on me."
Your head lulled right as he bit the side of your neck. Licking, sucking on it gently, while still forcing his cock through your walls.
It wasn't just the tip, and although you should be angry, the way he kept you folded left little room for movement. With his single arm pressing your legs tight, fingers keeping your chin up, and massive, heavy body leaning on yours.
He started to move faster, faster, faster, pumping you poor, weeping cunt with his heavy cock. It hit every inch of your lower belly, brushing past the sweet spot and smooching up to the slowly swelling womb. You could feel his round head nuzzle deep inside your pulsing warmth, as your tight walls wrapped around him, as if trying to lock him in.
A low hiss slipped past his rosy lips as you cried out in painful pleasure. Your blood ran hot as he tried to fuck each drop of aphrodisiac from your veins, pushing your body deeper into the sand.
The nasty squelch bounced off the water, spilling deep into the cave and catching in your scattered hair. He brought your face back, giggling at the sight of your utterly fucked eyes.
"My beautiful Goddess," he whispered, before slipping his hand down your belly. At this point, with heat bubbling in your belly, your thighs stayed open, pressed to your chest, as if your body was freely inviting him in. "My sweet, beautiful Goddess. Tell me how good you feel."
His demand forced wrath and balmy submissiveness upon your fucked mind, and so a sweet, honest, "G-good, ahh, you're filling me s-so good," fell embarrassingly past your lips.
As no matter how much you wanted to refuse, it did feel good. Dearest, it felt amazing, handling his hefty cock fully sliding inside your warmth, till wet balls hit your lifted ass. Head kissing your womb, veins pulsing in rhythm with your plush walls, as they pushed out waves and waves of fresh cum. Coating his full length in your juices, till whenever he pulled out, a crystal thread formed between your cunt and his creamy, happy trail.
His hands kneading your softness turned your mind to balm, and fingers playing with your swollen bud forced a moan, so you truly, shamefully so, allowed your body to give in to his touch.
"My God, nghh, I'm going to–"
Before you could finish, he crashed his lips against yours. He slipped a groan deep inside your throat as he started to fuck you faster. More relentless, brutal, forcing upon your virgin cunt a strength you weren't used to.
"My God, p-please–ahhh–slow down," you cried into his lips, yet received only a low chuckle.
"I know how to make you cum, my love. Your pussy needs to be fucked properly," he licked the tears dripping down your cheeks before capturing your lips again. "You're close, hm? I can feel it in your belly."
His hands pressed to your lower pouch, feeling his cock hit the soft skin, before slipping down to your cunt. Rolling your clit in mean, squelching pinches.
"S-satoru," his name finally escaped your throat, as you wrapped your arms behind his neck. "So good, you're–ngh–filling me–ahhh."
He chuckled, seeing your lidded eyes and messy blabber falling past your lips. "I know, my Goddess, your–ahh–pussy feels so fucking good. My sweetest, I promise to take good care of you."
He hid his face in the crook of your neck before finally going still. Your back arched, nipples pressing to his chest, before a soaked cry ripped from your throat. Juices gushing all over his abdomen, cock, as he hit your womb painfully, filling it with sticky ropes of cum. Till you felt the heavy creaminess sticking to your walls, stuffing you heavily, madly full.
A filthy fog once again seeped into your mind, and for a single minute you felt your strength return to your body. For a mere moment, it allowed you to smack his fair cheek. It left him fully unfazed, with a cheeky grin still plastered to his handsome face and a low chuckle forcing its way past his lips.
"My Goddess, is that how you should treat your future husband?" he asked, then brutally turned you back onto your belly. You tried to crawl, kicking him back, but he simply smacked your ass. "Come on, my love. Don't try to fight me. If I hadn't found you, who knows who would?"
Your breath hitched when you felt his cock harden again. Still snuggling deep inside you cunt, as you felt his shaft stretch your poor, weeping walls.
"I–ahh–I fucking hate you," you snapped through gritted teeth, your hips slowly rocking against his. Whatever you'd drunk still flowed in your veins, forcing another fog over your mind. "I hate you, so, s-so–mhm Satoru, just, fuck, p-please–"
His fingers dug deep into your perked-up ass, ocean eyes glimmering at the sight of your arched back. Sweat beaded on your neck, and your teary gaze looked over your shoulder in a furious, desperate, pleading manner.
He chuckled, taking a little vial from his tattered tunic. Opening it with his teeth, he handed it your way.
"What is it?" you asked, trying to sound at least a bit suspicious.
His eyes squinted, lips turned wickedly up. "Just a simple water. You'll feel a bit better."
"Drink it first."
"You don't trust me?"
You bit down your lip, shaking your head a bit.
Satoru hummed before taking a sip of the liquid without hesitation. It seeped warmly through his body, dripping down to the burning loins.
Seeing that he truly acted normally, you took it from his fingers and drank it all in one go. But… oh.
You shot head his way, seeing nothing, but a nasty grin. "This…"
He leaned closer, pressing his hand back between your shoulder blades. His face drew nearer, then he licked your lips with his wine-sweetened tongue. "Tastes similar, my love?"
A wave of heat was rolling faster, an even stronger aphrodisiac flowing through your veins. Breathing became harder, your mind already blind, as he pushed your melted body into a deeper arch.
"I love you so much, my Goddess," he whispered, peppering your sizzling cheek. "I'll make you feel so good. So fucking good, I promise. My sweet, beautiful wife. Just trust me."
Exam stress leads to a late night horny decision. Everything is going great, until the guy in the video starts sounding a little too familiar
part 2 here!
Fic Tags: NSFW. LOTS of masturbation. LOTS of DIRTY TALK. Watching porn. Teasing. Rough kissing. Cumming in pants. Light Sub/Dom dynamics. Size kink. Gojo cries. Satoru fucks you with a dildo. Extreme explicit grinding. Edging. Orgasm denial. Possessive Behavior. Praise kink. Power play. Pussy drunk gojo. Making it fit. Vaginal sex, cowgirl position, belly bulge, creampie, oral sex (f&m rec), gagging, shower sex, fingering, squirting, overstimulation, cum play/cum eating, biting/marking. Handjob. Spit kink.
cr: 3vangel1ne_ on X
You were sprawled on your bed, laptop glowing in the dark dorm room, fingers lazily scrolling through video after video.
It was one of those nights—stress from exams, and a long day of pretending not to stare at that tall, white-haired nerd from your chemistry class who always claimed the front row. The one with the quiet voice who answered questions with effortless precision while wearing the same white oversized hoodie every class.
The hoodie that somehow made his broad shoulders look even wider, the fabric hanging loose on his lean frame. You had spent far too many lectures tracing the strange structural formula printed across its back with your eyes, wondering what molecule it represented and why it suited him so perfectly.
The memory of him leaning over to borrow your notes earlier that day, offering that soft, shy smile, had lingered. Combined with the crushing stress of exams, it naturally led you to a late-night horniness that had you deep in the tags until one thumbnail catched your eye. A lean, pale torso filled the frame, a large hand wrapped around an absolutely obscene cock. The title was simple: “Needy boy whimpering.”
Below it, the description read: If you want more content, please consider subscribing. I’m a broke uni student 🙏🏻 Thank you!
You smiled faintly. It sounded so polite, almost shy, despite the filthy image attached to it. Without thinking twice, you clicked.
The video opened in a dimly lit room. The guy was already flushed, sitting on the edge of a messy bed with his long legs spread wide. His face remained carefully out of frame, but the camera angle gave a perfect, shameless view of his toned body. His abs were faintly defined, his skin glowing with a light sheen of sweat. One large hand was slowly stroking his thick, veiny length, the head flushed dark and already leaking precum that caught the low light with every lazy pass of his fingers.
A soft, breathy whimper floated through your headphones as his thumb circled the tip.
“F-fuck… ahh—”
Your breath hitched. That voice. Sweet, boyish, and trembling with need. It sounded painfully familiar, the same voice you had heard muttering answers under his breath during lectures.
No. You were imagining it. You had to be. You were just that desperately horny.
Pushing the thought aside, your hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, fingers gliding over your already soaked folds. On screen, his long fingers tightened around his cock, stroking a little faster. Another broken whimper escaped him, higher this time, sending a sharp throb straight to your clit. You circled the sensitive bud in time with his rhythm, thighs trembling as heat pooled low in your belly.
You pushed two fingers inside yourself, curling them just right, eyes never leaving the screen. His breathing grew ragged. The wet, obscene sounds of his hand moving along his slick cock filled your ears, filthy and addictive.
The camera shifted slightly as he adjusted his position. Your gaze drifted for a moment over the background, taking in the cluttered desk, the scattered notebooks. And then—
Your fingers stilled.
Draped casually over the back of his chair, right in the corner of the frame, was a white oversized hoodie. And there, clearly visible even in the low lighting, was the distinctive structural formula printed across the back — the strange, intricate molecule you had stared at countless times during morning lectures.
It was him.
Satoru Gojo.
The quiet, annoyingly hot chemistry nerd who always borrowed your notes with that shy boyish smile, and thanked you in that soft voice that now whimpered so prettily for the camera.
The realization crashed over you like lightning. A loud, broken moan tore from your throat as your fingers resumed their frantic pace, pumping harder, your thumb pressing desperately against your swollen clit. On screen, a high-pitched, needy whimper spilled from his lips as his hips bucked into his fist.
“Mmnh—gonna cum… fuck, I’m so close—”
His voice cracked on the last word, just like it always did when he laughed nervously in class. You imagined him sitting there, stroking himself stupid, his pretty glasses perhaps fogged up from the heat of his own pleasure. The thought made your head spin.
Your thumb pressed hard on your clit, the coil in your belly tightening unbearably.
On screen, Satoru’s abs flexed, his thighs shaking. Thick ropes of cum shoot across his stomach and chest as he kept pumping through his orgasm, whimpering softly with each spurt.
You came hard at the same time, back arching off the bed, a broken cry leaving your lips as your pussy clenched around your fingers. The orgasm dragged on, wave after wave of intense pleasure washing over you while you watched him pant, breathless and flushed, lazily smearing the mess over his skin.
When the video finally ended, you lay there in the dark, chest heaving, heart hammering against your ribs. The image of that white, oversized hoodie with the weird structural formula lingered behind your closed eyelids.
Tomorrow in class, when Satoru slid into his usual seat you weren’t sure you’d be able to look at him without getting wet all over again.
Or without wondering how much prettier those whimpers would sound in real life.
writing advice i live by (as someone who writes as a hobby):
your first draft is allowed to be awful. let it be awful, you can always improve it later.
if you’re writing as a hobby, it should be enjoyable and not feel like a chore.
if you’re stuck on a scene and can’t get the words out, skip it. write a note for yourself to come back to it later and move on to the next scene. sometimes you just need to look away from the scene and come back to it with a fresh pair of eyes for the words to flow again.
that also applies to finding the right words and metaphors.
consuming media is one of the best cures for writer’s block.
another thing that helps writer’s block is asking yourself: “what is the most fun/best/most devastating thing that could happen next?”
do not rush your writing. quality work takes time, so don’t ever beat yourself up for being a “slow writer”. it’s always worth taking your time building the right plot and finding the right words to make something you’re proud of.
you’re allowed to take a break from your writing. writing is hard work and burn out happens. take a break if you need, and come back to it when you’re ready. writing is not a race.
writing a story/plot you love > molding your plot to trendy tropes you don’t enjoy.
when you’re writing as a hobby, your work doesn’t need to be perfect. it just needs to make you happy. that’s it.
having more words doesn’t mean higher quality work. don’t feel bad for having a low word count.
if you like your own story, chances are others will too.
Ahhhh happy anniversary to mhm 💗💗💗 This story means so much to me! I found it when I first came to tumblr because I was searching for Gojo comfort fics after experiencing the trauma of JJK for the first time lmao This fic just embodied the comfort perfectly for me 🥲 Satoru is so sweet and caring and he is everything I ever felt he would be. And you captured him so perfectly. 💗 The way you write and describe him with such love and care makes my heart feel full. I get this warm fuzzy nostalgic feeling when I read this like I’m actually there and that’s exactly why I’ve came back to read it so many times.
alli tysm 😭🫶🏻 it makes me so happy that mhm gave you comfort bc that’s exactly the reason why i wrote that fic!! after the horrors of jjk i wanted to create the comfort i always wished i could find myself, so hearing it became that for someone else is really special to me 🥹🤍 thanks for reading!!
are you taking a break? If so! I hope ur doing well 🤍
yes… but also no? 🥹 i’m not intentionally taking a break—i’ve just been dealing with some medical struggles lately. i’ve still been writing whenever i have the energy, though!
hopefully y’all will have pt. 3 of off the record soon 🤍 it’s currently sitting at around 6k words but i anticipate it being over 10k! 🤗 tysm for checking in!!
dear aly i hope you are okay 🥹🥹😝 my dash feels empty without you :(
ASEMIIII 🥹 my sweet angel!! i miss you too so so much 💗 i’m so sorry i’ve been MIA. my treatment has rly been kicking my butt and medical leave has been… a lot, but i’m hanging in there! 😭
EEE i have so much to catch up on with your fic i can’t wait to binge it. thank you for checking in on me bb 🫶🏻
I think it's important, as conscious creators, to intentionally curate the mental environment you expose yourself to online.
Every post, opinion, and comment you consume reflects someone else's assumptions, beliefs, and interpretation of reality. In excess, that constant stream of perspectives can become mental noise.
It's healthy to question yourself and avoid living in an echo chamber. Seeking different viewpoints can help you grow and keep you intellectually honest. But there is a difference between being open-minded and becoming disconnected from your own inner experience.
When you consume too many external opinions, it's easy to start outsourcing your own perception. You begin doubting what genuinely resonates with you and unconsciously adopt the assumptions of people who simply appear more certain.
Your attention is one of your most valuable resources. What you repeatedly focus on influences your beliefs, your emotional state, and ultimately the way you move through the world.
Listen, learn, stay curious, but don't abandon yourself in the process.
The Victorian-style house looked a bit creepy, but rather cute. Very pinkish. Perfectly serene for your remote job and longing for silence. And everything would be wonderful if not for this little weird doll that looks like you and a small door in the living room, leading to... nowhere? And what about those two guys who lived here sixty years ago?
˖𖦹 ݁˖ pairing: Satosugu x F!Reader
˖𖦹 ݁˖ content/warnigs for this chapter: ꒰ Coraline AU :: reader is a horror writer :: dark and eerie atmosphere :: victorian house :: a weird doll :: appearence of Satoru and Suguru :: they have button eyes :: Satoru is just a housewife :: the eerie well :: small town mystery :: Sukuna is a dickhead :: 7k words ꒱
˖𖦹 ݁˖ notes: Apologies for such a delay! I was busy with life :( I suggest reading the series in the evening!
masterlist ˖𖦹 ݁˖
──── chapter two 🗝
Soft wind bounced off the window and woke you early in the morning. The non-stopping rain painted the old glass in harsh strokes, crystal droplets running down the pink, slippery eaves.
Usually, you would allow gentle smooches of sunshine to wake you from your dreamy slumber. Yet that morning, a light pit-pat-pit-pat tickled your eardrums before the sun had even fully risen. You looked over your shoulder, seeing a thin fog curling in front of your windows, clinging softly to their crying surface.
It might have been the worst summer of your life, with little to no warmth seeping through the light bedsheets you brought with you. The winter one was yet to be bought, and so you wondered whether it was time to make a short trip to the town.
The old car, with scraped midnight paint and a hump that made it look like a beetle, would be brought under your house by tomorrow. And so it meant spending another night squirming under the thin summer sheet, trying to warm yourself with the woollen pyjamas you had fortunately bought.
You looked at the phone – 8:00 am – and groaned, trying to slip back into the dreamy slumber. But whenever you tried, Sukuna's hips slamming into his whore and the latest email from your editor – please tell me you're working on some story – were plaguing your mind like a nightmare.
So you groaned, wiping your face with a hand, before trying to grab the phone from the bedside table. With a sleepiness still sticking to your lashes, it dropped from your fingers, landing under the bed.
"Fuck," you murmured, slipping only the upper half of your body off the mattress to grab it back. But when your eyes fell on the mysterious treasures hiding beneath the bed, a sudden "Oh!" escaped in surprise.
Something sat shyly on the floor.
Hidden in the darkness, a yellow jacket mingled under the foggy flame creeping into your bedroom. You quickly grabbed it and sat back on the bed.
A doll.
Rather soft, filled with a wool of some sort, neatly hidden beneath its tightly sewn skin. Her button eyes, the same colour as yours, looked at you curiously, cheeks painted a peppery red. You brushed her hair, made of soft wool and looked down at the outfit. The same one you wore yesterday, with a yellow raincoat brushing her knees and high boots loose around the calves. A jumper peeked from beneath the jacket, of the same colour as the one currently lying on the chair.
"Why do you look like me, hm?" a soft ask bounced off the doll's eyes, and you tapped on them with your finger. "Where's your owner, sweetie?"
But the doll, of course, didn't say anything. Instead, looked at you with its round irises and pouted lips, as you sighed. The first day in an old Victorian house, and you were already going crazy. Shoko would surely be proud of you.
With no other option, you hugged the doll closer to your chest and, with a light blanket draped over your shoulder, you went downstairs.
The house was eerily quiet, with the squeak of old stairs echoing off the walls hung with portraits and your breathing mingling with the light patter on the centuries-old windows. The woody fragrance still lingered in the living room as you walked past. Your eyes stayed a moment longer on the slightly ajar little doors, as if checking whether the red brick had suddenly disappeared, revealing to you the entrance to the Alice in Wonderland-like realm.
Unfortunately, it was still there.
The kitchen was bathed in darkness when you set the doll on the counter and switched on the lights. Something flickered, something hissed, before the bulb dimmed like a blown-out candle.
"Are you joking?" You groaned, trying to turn the light on again and again.
Hitting the switch madly until the bulb finally came back to life and bathed your kitchen in a faint glow. Well, it's not like you needed full light to eat breakfast.
The fog knocking on your window provided enough glow to let you distinguish the spoons from the forks in the shadowed drawer.
You opened the fridge next, sighing when you saw the meagre groceries you managed to buy yesterday while passing through the town. A few eggs, butter and milk, as you were sure they would last until your car finally arrived.
"What do you think, mini-me?" You asked, peeking your head from behind the fridge doors. "Bread with eggs or eggs with bread?"
For a minute, a few seconds, you wondered whether you had left her in that position. With her head turned your way, gently tilted. Button eyes gazed lovingly, hair brushing her cheeks in an utterly adorable manner. She looked almost curious about your questions, seemingly listening to your soft complaints all this time.
"Bread with eggs it is then," you giggle, closing the door with a thud.
The buttery fragrance swirled over the pan as you cracked two eggs. At the same time, your phone buzzed, lighting the kitchen with a few messages popping one after another.
You peeked at the screen before a deep scowl twisted your forehead.
Dickhead: Where are you? Your mother said you moved the cities.
Dickhead: Can we please talk? I know I was a total asshole, but you can't just cut yourself off after so many years.
Dickhead: Don't block my number or I'll just get the new one.
"Fuck off," you mumbled, peeking towards the doll. Her small head was still facing the fridge, so you turned her towards you. "Mini-me, how about going on a trip today? I've read there's a haunted well somewhere around," her button eyes shimmered under the flickering light bulb, almost as if she wanted to agree.
With a cup of instant coffee and a warm scrambled egg, you sat on the rocking chair waiting on the porch. Rain pattered, plip-plop-plip-plop on the pinky-washed roof, dripping down the bare ground. An earthy, cold smell tried to slip under your thick pyjamas, so you wrapped the blanket more tightly around your shoulders and sat back in the chair.
The fog was slowly falling, unfolding the sad, dark view of the withered garden and big puddles forming beneath the stairs.
You placed the doll on the table, as if she were the only human-like creature you could speak to. But in fact, if someone peeked through your windows, they would see a possessed, lonely woman who spent her days talking to the weird doll and strolling through the forests to find her next concept for a horror story.
The mug warmed your skin, and the coffee burned your throat in an utterly pleasurable way until a soft sigh slipped past your lips. You wondered whether to ask the neighbour about the doll, but Miss Pink and Miss Forcible would surely show other signs of dementia upon seeing a toy that looked just like you.
As for the peculiar neighbour upstairs… he was better off alone.
The rain slowed as the sun peeked out from between the dark clouds. It kissed the drenched windows for a moment before disappearing again, swallowed by the storm swirling over the mystic woods.
After breakfast, you made yourself look half-presentable, changing out of pyjamas into a yellow raincoat and long boots before going outside. The jumper brushed your skin softly, keeping the pinching air from slipping beneath it.
You've never experienced a summer like this one, but the fog tickled your cheeks pleasantly, and a fresh, woody smell swirled in the air, filling your lungs with an earthy taste. Your yellow-booted feet stepped off the porch, immediately sinking into the mud. With a doll in your hand, you started walking towards the woods spreading behind the house.
A hill of sorts loomed over the pinkish eaves, and so you walked up its crooked path, kicking the little stones creeping under your feet. A low melody bounced off the drenched trees, birthing fruits and flowers and simply leaves, with little droplets tap-tap-tapping onto your coat-covered head.
A crow looked high from the branch, coal eyes following your figure jumping over the pools, with hands gripping the lone stick and marking long, writhen paths. Its lone caw-caw-caw tickled your ears, and you smiled under your nose, hugging the mini-you closer to your chest.
The hill ended after fifteen minutes or so, and thus you stood on its top, glancing at the pinkish house hugged by a soft fog. It was slowly, gently falling down, dancing just above the first steps of the porch, as if scared to slip any further.
The well you've read about on some scaryplaces.net and spookyoregon.com should be somewhere here.
On the hill, beneath the old Victorian house, a well was hidden. Where the town's folk and daredevils would slip in silence, disappearing into the hells of the earth itself. It was supposed to be as old as the house, deep in metres unknown.
You looked around the ground, kicking the pebbles and brushing the mud with your dirty, yellow shoes. Mini-you was looking down too, watching the earth with her shimmering, button eyes.
"Where is this cursed well, hm?" You started jumping, and jumping, hearing nothing but the splashing mud. "The site said it should be somewhere he–"
"Jump once again and you will fall right into it."
A strange voice sliced through the air. You didn't understand why, but a shiver ran down your spine as your head shot up. It was rare you felt any dread at all, tempered by all the ghostly and gory stories that slipped from beneath your wicked fingers.
You weren't scared of ghosts, murderers, or spectral creatures of sorts, always more than happy to visit each and every haunted house nearby.
And yet, the sight of a man standing right in front of your eyes tickled your skin in such an unpleasant manner.
"Oh," slipped past your lips as you looked down. The mud indeed covered the large, wooden lid, and you quickly moved to the left. "I haven't noticed it."
The man came closer, with hands tucked into his old trousers and a brown hat resting on sun-kissed hair. His chest was clothed in a woollen jumper, with a white shirt peeking from the cut collar. Straight trousers ended just above his ankles, revealing long white socks and black, elegant shoes, clean of any mud. Sandy hair was slicked slightly back, and chestnut eyes looked down at you with amusement.
He looked as if he'd been plucked straight from the 60s.
"You didn't see a fairy ring here?" His finger pointed at a few mushrooms growing into a circle.
"It seems so, I was distracted," you mumbled shyly, trying to keep the distance between you and the stranger. "Do you know anything about this well?"
He hummed, clasping hands behind his back. "A bit, miss. It is a very wicked creature indeed."
He paced around, brushing the white mushrooms with his shoe, yet not intruding on their peaceful existence. The wooden cover was old, with planks crumbling under the weight of mud itself, and another shiver tickled your spine at the sheer thought of falling into the endless pit.
"A creature?" You asked, one hand poking the planks with a stick, the other gripping the dolly closer. "It's just an old well."
But the man's eyes got lost somewhere on your chest. Or more, somewhere in the deep, button eyes of your new friend, looking up at him with a pouted smile.
His head tilted, and chestnut moved up, to cross with your scaredy stare. "Where did you find her?"
Your fingers curled around the doll a bit tighter. "A present."
"Present?" Something in his voice told you that he knew about your little lie.
Yet you nodded, lying through your teeth. "From the neighbours."
His eyebrows lifted and creamy forehead creased, bending the skin into a single, crooked fold. The gentle rain tapped on hat, shielding his squinted eyes.
"Which neighbours, if I may ask, miss?"
A feeling of doubt bubbled in your chest. Your heart jumped when he took a step closer and bent over the wooden cover. With two hands, he moved it to the side, showing you an endless pit of unfathomable darkness. A musty smell hit your nose, a mixture of long-forgotten secrets and deep waters bubbling somewhere below.
"I don't know where you found it," he sighed, shaking the mud from his hands. "But I would suggest throwing it here."
You froze. Breath hitched, heart suddenly stopped, as you looked at the man whose warm eyes beamed with truth and kindness. But a desperation of sorts, a worry maybe, as he peeked with a furrow at the dolly sitting in your embrace.
"It's just a doll," you laughed, yet his lips stayed flat. "Why would I need to throw her away?"
A minute had passed or so before he sighed and looked towards your pinkish house. "That place is of the most wicked kind. You should stay away from it."
Your ears perked again, in a similar way as yesterday. The little door was a source of utter disappointment, but if the house veiled other secrets unknown, then you were ready to plunge into them all.
"I've just moved there. The main apartment with the porch," you said, pointing somewhere down the hill. "I think this place is rather nice."
"It's cursed," he said harshly, a low tsk slipping past his lips. "You shouldn't be there. No one has been living here since the previous owners disappeared."
And then you remembered about the picture, still warming the back pocket of your jeans. Thank god you wore the same trousers as yesterday!
You put the dolly under your armpit and grabbed the old, crumpled picture.
"Excuse me, sir, do you mean them?" You took a step towards the man and showed him a photo of two young men. "The neighbour ladies told me of them. But maybe, if there's a chance you know something else…"
It was clear he knew them. Quite well at that, as his face suddenly went limp, chestnut eyes bulging like little porcelain plates. Long fingers grabbed the photo, thumb brushing it gently, as if afraid of crumpling it even more.
And then suddenly, his gaze shot towards the well.
A fathomless hole of most peculiar kind, dripping shivers down your fear-kissed spine. You stood outside the fairy ring, two steps away, yet a sinister spell seemed to pull you closer. No creature tugged at your yellow jacket, yet you needed to take another step back, as if afraid the ground between you and the well would crumble.
The man's breath shuddered, and his eyes filled with fear, as if looking at the well brought back memories he long wished to forget. They plagued his mind and ripped his soul, leaving you no choice but to finally ask, "Did they drown here?"
He suddenly looked your way in surprise, as if your very existence had already slipped his mind. "It's impossible to drown in it."
Another wave of dreadful tickling pinched your skin. "But it's a well. It must end somewhere."
The man shook his head, eyes jumping between the picture and the pit.
"Not this one," he whispered before giving you the photo back. "Stay away from it. And stay away from the house. It's not a good place."
You looked over your shoulder, oogling the rosy tiles mingling in the sheepishly peeking rays of sunlight. The dark clouds swirling over the house slowly began to clear, allowing a few golden rays to bounce off the glass-tiled windows.
There was something eerie about this house indeed, but, after all, that was one of the reasons you bought it. And if it truly hid something wicked behind its walls – you wished to be the first to know of it.
"What happened to the previous owners?" You asked, looking over your shoulder.
But the man… was gone.
And so a gasp slipped past your lips. Muffled and shuddered, as you felt the prickling cold finally slip under the warm jumper. Biting your skin till a chill seeped into your bones, forcing another puff from your throat.
You wondered whether your mind was playing tricks on you.
If the man was simply something you had imagined. A spectral creature, maybe, as it would fit the clothes he wore. The flat scent of his body and skin white as snow, looking cold rather than living.
No… he was here.
As the soles of his shoes were still pressed into the squelchy mud and a photograph, ripped in half, lay on the wet ground.
And so another gasp bubbled in your throat as you bent and grabbed two pieces of paper. Teared right in the middle, splitting the two handsome faces.
Oh, what a pity it truly was, and you sighed, pushing the photograph back into your jeans.
As you stood there – alone, with a chill kissing your spine, your eyes dropped towards the well.
Opened, bare, tugging on your curious mind and whispering wickedly. You bit the inside of your cheeks, looking down at your muddy shoes brushing the fairy ring. Small mushrooms stood tall, like a fortress trying to keep you away from the danger.
If the man fell into the well, you would hear it.
Maybe.
Unless the pit had no water indeed, being a sinister portal of sorts, swallowing the lost fools into its unfathomable realm.
"What do you think, mini-me? Should we look inside?"
The dolly looked at you with her round eyes, and with a finger, you helped her shake her little head.
"Yeah, I also think so," you muttered, and kicked the wooden cover towards the well, just to close it safely.
To keep the world here away from it, but more importantly – to lock whatever resided at its bottom.
꩜ ꩜ ꩜
Before you went down from the hill, the sky had closed over the house once again. The bits and snippets of warmish rays of sunshine were long gone, drawing another wave of pattering rain from the sky.
The crystal beads dripped from your yellow hood, wetting the dolly's raincoat too.
As you neared the house, you noticed the neighbour from upstairs grabbing a few packages lying under your door. Not only a lunatic, but also a thief!
"Hey!" You shouted, pointing at him with your stick. "Old man, why are you stealing my stuff?"
He looked over his shoulder, dressed in a tattered bathrobe and a white, dirty shirt peeking from beneath it. The same maniacal look painted his face as he squinted his eyes as if it was the first time he saw you.
"That's not your package, miss," He muttered, straightening up. "Here, smell it."
He stretched his hand; a white, neatly packed roundish thing was right under your nose as you took a deep breath.
"Yuck!" you pushed it away, clipping your nostril with fingers. "What is that?"
"A radish, little miss. Good for your health." He pushed one of the small packages into your hands. "Here, take it. You look sick-like, this weather does not do you good."
Your eyes fixed on the smelly package, and you wondered whether its smell would fill every corner of your house. Maybe you could drop it by his house in the evening and politely return.
The neighbour yawned, scratching himself on the chest. He smelt of pungent cheese, so you stepped back, trying to keep yourself away from the funky odour. Was it for his imagined mice?
"Right," he suddenly leaned closer. Long moustache reminding you of kitten whiskers, old robe sniffing of something musty. "The mice say you are a foolish little lady."
Your eyes twinkled like two lanterns, and your head tilted. The dolly in your embrace felt a bit heavier, so you pressed it closer to your chest. "Why is that?"
He looked over his shoulder, visibly uneasy, standing on your porch. His eyes traced the large windows still hugged by fog before he moved even closer. You held your breath, the odour of radish and cheese wrapping around your wet face.
"They say you shouldn't open the little door."
You scoffed. Not this lunatic talk again!
"But there's nothing on the other side. Just a brick wall separating my apartment from the neighbours."
No one lived on the other side, so you thought it was still for sale. But you didn't dare knock on the empty door to see if anyone was there. Was the scratching you heard that night only in your dreams, or was it something coming straight from the house?
The man sighed as he had yesterday and simply stretched. "The mice say, eat radish to not attract demons. Sometimes they are a bit crazy, but they're never wrong," he repeated. "Eat the radish, little lady, and close the door."
Before you could say anything back, he ruffled your hair with his big palm and went towards the stairs.
"I think they meant garlic," you shot behind him, watching the tall men climb up the steps.
"What did you say?"
You sighed deeply. "The demons are scared of garlic."
He looked at you for a second, twirling a thin moustache between his fingers. "Right, little lady. So the mice are wrong."
He took another step, and another, murmuring under his nose the mice are wrong, they were wrong, before you could only hear the thump of his closed door.
Your eyes peeked at the dolly. "Oh, mini-me, we're surrounded by the crazy people."
A growl came from your belly as you entered the house. But your fridge was beaming with emptiness, and a single packet of instant noodles was hidden somewhere in your luggage. You cooked it with a single egg that was still waiting for its turn on the cold fridge shelf, and sat at the little table in the kitchen.
Laptop right in front of you, with the word opened on the new blank page.
The cursor was blinking, click-click-click, as you started writing whatever slipped into your mind. But it was nothing, truly, only some eerie thoughts swirling over your head like a big, stormy cloud, tapping your fingers onto the keys to put a few coherent, but more likely incoherent, words.
Something about the little town mystery. A haunted house, a weird little dolly, with the round buttons constantly fixed on your face. About the unusually cold summer this year and the need to wear scratchy Christmas sweaters and yellow wellingtons that were a bit too big and squelched in the mud.
You didn't know who the main character would be yet. But the atmosphere of the house and the dolly's tilting head made you think of a little girl who would surely love it much more than you did. And the way she would have a hard time connecting with the weird neighbours – adults, who always seemed quite difficult to understand when you were a child yourself.
It was late evening when you finished scribbling the first two pages. Messy and silly, but a sort of pride swelled your heart and a gentle patter of the rain made you believe that this story could work. Something much different from the things you usually wrote. Without the gore and erotica, but rather reminding you of the Lovecraftian stories and macabre poetry by Edgar Allan Poe.
And so you saved a few silly pages as a PDF and sent your editor an email titled: a horror for children – what do we think?
"Well, mini-me, how about we take a ba–"
But the mini-you was nowhere to be found. She suddenly disappeared from the kitchen counter where you had sat her, between the shelf of spices and the slightly stale bread. There was nothing left but a small pool of rain where her yellow coat had been.
You furrowed, looking around the kitchen. Whenever you had a new idea, you would immerse yourself fully in the new world you were trying to build. And so you would forget to eat and drink, sometimes even to live – the world spun around, and you sat by your desk, focused on the blinking cursor. Sometimes you would unconsciously stand up and do something, only to forget about it a minute later.
And so you thought the same thing happened to the mini-you. You moved here somewhere without giving it much thought, only to forget where the poor dolly was waiting for you.
The darkness slipped into the house, casting shadows over the crimson carpets as you walked in fuzzy socks. The old chandelier gleamed weakly with yellow light, looming over you as you walked through the long corridors.
"Mini-me, where are you?" You hummed, opening the bathroom.
Tile walls silently shone, and the rain still tapped on the little window over the bathtub.
You checked the bedroom, the upstairs bathroom, and the kitchen once again before finally slipping into the living room. And when you thought she wasn't there either, the gentle flickering of the fireplace bounced off the button-shaped eyes.
Lying on the floor, slipping into the slightly opened little door.
"What are you doing here?" You giggled, but an unsettling feeling clenched your heart.
The dolly lay half-hidden behind the doors, button eyes the colour of your irises pulling you closer with unimaginable force. You leaned closer, then bent and grabbed it from the floor.
"There's nothing in there, stop sniffin–"
But then, suddenly, something caught your eye.
A light of some sort – warm and bubbly, slipping through the crack of the small door.
You blinked, once, twice, glancing between the dolly and the door.
With your foot, you pushed it open and gasped.
The brick wall was there no more; instead, glowing bluish circles stretched deep into the house, with cocoon-like walls forming a long, mystifying passageway. Your knees hit the carpet as you peeked inside and touched the soft structure of the tunnel. A deep, delicious smell filled the inside, a roast of some sort that made your stomach turn and squeeze in crying hunger.
Just in case, your fingers pinched your forearm, but aside from the soft "Auch" that slipped quietly past your lips, nothing in the room changed. The fireplace crackled with a soft pop-pop-pop, and rain pattered onto the large windows. Mini-you sat on the floor, leaning against the wall with a pouted smile. Button eyes watched your breath drop in a shudder, as you bit the inside of your cheek.
The mice say you are a foolish little lady, suddenly slipped into your mind. They say you shouldn't open the little door.
Did it also mean you shouldn't walk into whatever was on the other side?
Certainly, and yet you made the initial move by crawling into the tunnel. The rings glinted softly beneath your fingertips, blending and shimmering with gentle hues – from purple and pink to blue and black. Each time your hand or knee made contact, the material exploded with colour, as though each step left a magical, purple imprint.
When you got to the middle, a low, sweet hum slipped past the slightly opened door waiting on the other side. The luscious smell was getting stronger, watering your mouth after a whole day of eating nothing but stale bread and instant soups.
Finally, with a gentle push, the door opened.
Letting you right into… your living room?
"Oh," you mumbled, crawling from the tunnel.
The room looked quite the same, with the deep red sofa sitting calmly in front of the crackling fireplace. The darkness cast shadows over the Persian-style carpets, but you noticed the lack of tapering rain.
The house, instead, was filled with warmth, this mouthwatering smell, and someone's hum. Melody that curled around your earlobes with smooching kisses, as you slowly, with a fast beating heart, walked towards the kitchen.
Your nose following the smell, eyes looking around the house, which seemed the same and yet so different. A bit warmer, cleaner, decorated here and there with flowers and crocheted blankets that hugged the sofa and flower pots. Everything was much more colourful, and so you felt a sudden shiver drip down your spine.
Because it was certainly not your house.
And a man sweeping around the kitchen was certainly not your guest.
He stood tall, a pink apron curling around his lean waist, his wide shoulders clad in a light jumper. From behind, you could only notice milky hair, falling short over his creamy neck.
You stood in the doorway, fiddling with the hem of your jumper. A second passed, then a minute, before the man looked over his shoulder with a beaming smile.
"Oh, sweetheart, you're already here? The roast is almost ready," He giggled, cleaning his hands with a small towel.
The breath caught in your throat. Eyes bulged, and lips fell open, as you saw the same man who plagued your dreams and raised questions beneath your tightened chest. The same man who was in the photograph, with a half-covered face and cheerful eyes mingling like little stars.
But this time, they didn't shine as bright.
Because instead of irises, light blue buttons neatly settled in his sockets. Reminding you of a sea, carrying a sense of freshness, wrapping around your warmed face like a gentle breeze.
"Who are you?" you mumbled, almost shy, and ogled his handsome, angelic face, brimming with a smile.
His head tilted, with a few strands of milky hair brushing the soft forehead. "I'm your neighbour, sweetheart."
"No, that's my house."
A low hum slipped past his lips. "Well, if we want to fight over the ownership, that is, in fact, my house. At least in this world, hm?" He peeked inside the oven, letting the delicious, roasty smell fill the warm kitchen. "Sweetheart, can you please call Suguru? He's up to his elbows in the garden."
"But the garden is withered…" You mumbled, still not daring to come inside the kitchen.
As if afraid that passing the doorway would force you to accept the delirious yet bewitching reality you somehow entered.
Was it a dream? Did you fall asleep while writing again?
Or was the man, with button eyes and a low melody filling the lusciously smelling kitchen, truly real?
Before you'd noticed it, he came closer. And closer, closer, before his long fingers flicked your forehead. A soft "auch" slipped past your lips, and when they opened, he quickly pressed his finger onto your tongue.
At first, you wanted to bite it.
But then heavenly sweetness spilt all over your taste buds and eyes twinkled.
"Not too sweet?" He asked, and the fact that he slipped the same fingers into his lips didn't go unnoticed by your flushed cheeks.
"It's delicious."
He hummed, nodding his head. "Go and tell him the dinner's ready. I know you're starving, so the sooner you go, the better."
You didn't ask him how he knew that. Instead, pressed your palm to the reddened forehead and went outside, towards the garden.
And when your feet stepped from the porch, a loud, surprised gasp once again escaped your throat. The night never looked as beautiful as then, with the dark sky peppered with mingling stars and a large moon, bending and curving as if touched by a wicked spell. It shone almost unnaturally, with a yellow, tale-like light, casting long shadows over the big, lush garden.
The warm illumination hit your cheeks, giggly, as you passed the rusty entrance to the garden and ogled the magical view unfolding right before your eyes. With lanterns hanging heavily off the fruit trees and clean cobblestones leading you further towards the bridge passing over the shallow creek. The flowers were there and birdies and bugs, with bees landing softly on the sweet petals, zzz-bzz-bzz, and drinking the nectar dripping down the watered ground.
There was something utterly enchanting about this place, rather mystical, as the flowery scent smooched your warmed skin, tugging unconsciously on your lips. A giggle slipped past when a little butterfly sat on your stretched finger, its purplish wings flapping with the gentle wind.
And when you crossed the bridge, you saw a man kneeling over the freshly dug earth. His long, raven hair was pinned up in a bun, a few locks falling over his sweating forehead. He hummed a melody of sorts, soft and kind, drawing the little birdies' attention as they sat by him and listened with lidded eyes.
"Um…" you started, swinging on your feet. "The man inside said the dinner's ready."
He glanced over his shoulder and, as you too expected, looked at you with little button-shaped irises. But his were misty purple, deep and mingling, catching the warm flicker of the lanterns.
"Oh, darling, you're early. I still haven't finished planting your flowers," he chuckled and stood up.
You stepped back, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by his height. He seemed as tall as the man back in the house, and yet there was something utterly intimidating about the way he looked at you from above. In a slightly less striking and cheerful way, but with a soft smile tugging on his lips and button eyes staring blankly into your face.
"I didn't know someone else lived in this house," fell awkwardly, as you looked behind him at the few planted flowers. They indeed looked like your most lovely ones. "The little door was bricked."
Suguru chuckled, wiping his hands on the muddy trousers. "I told Satoru to open it a bit later, but he was set on preparing your favourite roast." He left the gardening gloves on the ground before showing you the way to the exit. "And the cake too. I hope you're hungry. He's been cooking all day."
Walking arm in arm, you peeked at Suguru's wickedly beautiful face. His straight, raven eyebrows sat neatly over the purple buttons and sharp jaw, smooth yet slightly dirtied with the mud. Raven locks seemed soft, almost silky, and you needed to curl your hand into a fist so as not to brush a few strands behind his ear.
You didn't need to answer as the sudden growl in your belly was enough to push a soft chuckle past Suguru's lips.
When you walked back into the kitchen, everything was already set.
The table was filled with foaming meats and fruits, a bottle of red wine with three glasses stood in the middle, and Satoru was quickly pushing the strawberry-cream cake to the fridge.
"Please sit down, sweethearts," he said, pulling your chair.
You nodded, sitting down on the soft, cushioned seat. Much more comfortable than the ones you had in your house.
"The weather's pretty fine today, isn't it?" Satoru hummed while putting a piece of warm, honeyed-glazed meat on your plate. With mashed potatoes, vegetables, coating everything in gravy.
The portion was large, but your hunger was even greater, so your fingers gripped the chair's edge in excitement.
"It rained a little, but I almost finished everything," Suguru answered, placing a glass of red wine in front of your plate. "Darling, how was your day?"
Two pairs of button eyes turned to you with a mingled look, and suddenly you felt small. Overwhelmed by the warmth and kindness filling this house, and by the way they turned such simple things, like dinner, into something lovely. It was the same house you lived in, yet it carried a homey cosiness that let your shoulders to roll back and lips lift into a shy smile.
"It was fine. I finally started writing my new book."
Satoru gasped, taking a sip of wine. "What is it about?"
Suguru hummed, also wishing to know more.
The cutlery clicked as you pushed it down and you cleaned your palate with a sip of wine. It dripped down your throat, coating it in a sweet glaze.
"Well, I just finished the first draft. Nothing special, just a children's book," a lie fell from your lips almost naturally.
They didn't have to know that you took inspiration from their eerie house and decided to present it as an unfathomable, wicked spirit. And that whatever, whoever, they were, would surely slip into the furthest pages of your book.
"Talking about children," Suguru chuckled. "Did you like your present?"
Your head tilted, eyes jumped between one and another. "What present?"
The soft crackling of the fireplace coming from the living room tickled your ears.
"The doll, of course," Satoru said, propping his chin on his hand. "Suguru made it especially for you."
The charm of his voice made your head spin, and a surprised gasp escaped your throat. "Ah, she's lovely! Thank you so much, um…" You bit the inside of your cheek. Feeling their blank, soulless button stares felt rather uneasy. "You didn't have to. The dinner too."
Satoru waved his hand. "Oh please, why won't you just join us for dinner every day?"
You took it as a joke, and thus a lovely laugh fell past your lips. But it, in fact, was no fool at all, and so both of their handsome faces looked up from their plates, staring at you with an empty look.
"Satoru is right, darling. We would love to have dinner with you."
And the truth was, you didn't have anything against it. Rather, you felt a mysterious pull towards the two men living in the otherworldly part of your house. The curiosity that killed the cat the moment you slipped through the small door.
You knew, felt, that there was something utterly wicked about it all. Their faces, without a wrinkle, as if they were still in their youth. No more than late twenties, surely, with cheeks smooth and a jaws sharp, as they chatted with you throughout the whole dinner.
A while passed before you untangled yourself from their soft requests to stay. To see the garden, look around the house, get another slice of cake. Satoru joked a lot, while Suguru stayed mostly quiet, simply adding a few questions here and there.
They were kind, almost gentlemanly, and a joyous laugh bubbled in your throat whenever Satoru rolled out another joke, and Suguru shook his head with a sigh. It took a while to get used to their eyes, but after a few glasses of wine, you stopped avoiding their gaze.
And looked instead. Observed the movement of their brows, the bloom coating the smiling cheeks, long lashes casting shadows over the buttoned eyes. At first, you thought it looked similar to contact lenses. But after peering closer, you noticed that those were just their eyeballs – dark like midnight, with big buttons covering them completely. Almost as if they had dug up the previous ones, and–
"You can also stay the night?" He suggested, giving you a slice of cake after dinner.
His finger wiped off the cream from the knife and extended towards your lips. With a quick, uncertain glance at his bluish buttons, you licked it clean, immediately feeling another wave of pleasant sweetness drip down your spine.
"I don't want to sorn…"
"Sweetheart, you're more than welcome to spend your days here."
You wriggled on a soft chair, digging uncomfortably into a cake. "Truly, I cannot. I have work too, and need to visit the town…"
"But–"
This time, a low, shuddering voice echoed off the wooden kitchen floor. "Satoru."
It sounded tenderly, yet laced with admonishment too. As if Suguru tried to suggest gently, not to push you any further.
Satoru's lips fell into line before he glanced at the man with the blank expression.
The stillness stretched like a wicked thread as you bit silently into the strawberry cake.
"Right, apologies, sweetheart," he said after a minute, cracking a soft smile. "I forgot that we have all the time in the world."
Instead of saying anything, you simply nodded and hummed sweetly.
They seemed so different, like sun and moon, yet made of the same matter. Their lives were linked in some obscure way, with the past completely unknown and any questions you had about their lives left to blur into the air like fog.
You knew that the moment your feet would land back on your side of the house, they would lead you straight to the laptop.
The search engine opened as you tapped any possible keywords that would show anything about the mysterious men living on the other side of your house.
In a completely different world, where your garden blushed like blooming roses and the moon lurked over your cheeks warmed by the sweetness of red wine.
This evening felt comforting, almost intoxicating, with your belly stuffed full and gentle dizziness already lulling you to slumber.
But you couldn't find anything online. Nothing related to the old secret of the pinkish Victorian house. Nothing about the two young owners, who supposedly disappeared into thin air.
As if nothing ever happened here, in what you simply couldn't believe.
You sighed, scratching your itching palm. A rash of sorts was slowly spreading around it, and a tsk fell past your lips, as you remembered that you didn't have any ointment. That's what you get for grabbing the dirty, muddy sticks.
Rain still pattered on the windows, as if this world and the one behind the doors were of two completly different universes.
The tingling on your spine felt like a bad omen, but the last drops of sweet cream spreading all over your tongue reminded you of the well-spent evening.
The dolly sat by the closed doors, looking at you with the same pouted smile. But also mischievous of sorts, as if unsatisfied that right after coming back here, you immediately locked the door shut.
With the key sitting deep in your jeans pocket and your mind pulsing with the overwhelming experience.
One thing, however, was clear.
You would go back to that house again.
And uncover whatever wicked secret both men tried to hide for the past hundred years.
fiance! naoya x paediatrician! fem reader x single uncle! satoru
summary: Your days had long turned into an endless grey stream of monotony, brightened only by children's smiles at the hospital. Soon, your life would be subjected to loneliness in the golden cage of the Zenin Estate as you agreed to be Naoya's wife; the weight of his love had already burdened you to the point you no longer believed there was any left.
And then you met Satoru Gojo.
Your biggest curse. And your greatest remedy.
tags: AU, medical setting, heavy angst, toxic relationships, messy feelings, emotional abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, misogyny (Naoya is a prick), reader struggles with her self-image, slow healing, falling in love, yearning. eventual smut and happy ending, i promise! we just have to get here. some specific tags will be included in the parts, if any.
word count: 14.5k
gojo's art by @/maronjapan9a. all dividers are mine.
playlist
masterlist
part 1
Satoru Gojo slowly started threading himself into the canvas of your life, and when you looked back, startled and stunned, to see the turning point — when the warmth slowly sipped into your polite, careful smiles and when the anxiety slowly loosened its knot as Gojo's laugh washed over you — you slowly realised that you couldn't name one.
Was it the boyish grin? The Union Jack lighter? The first compliment? The first shared conversation in the walls of the cafeteria? Nothing criminal, but every time your eyes met — his, impossibly blue, crinkling at the corners with mirth and something you were afraid to name — they caused the tender petals of affection in your chest to bloom.
Only if they weren't destined to wither the moment your future husband set his eyes on you.
Maybe he noticed that you returned from the hospital happier than usual. Your softened voice grated on his nerves, and your dreamy gaze only sharpened his. Honed his tongue to the way it left more and more wounds.
As if you weren't berating yourself for even thinking about another man. As if you didn't force your gaze to tear apart from Gojo at first. To keep your mouth shut. To gather your bearings and lock your heart with the key thrown away to the ocean depths. To shut Nitta's and Miwa's whispers with sharp glances. To stand your ground as the endless blue threatened to swallow you whole.
Either way, you were torn between your actual feelings and things you were supposed to feel.
That day wasn't particularly sunshine and rainbows: from a kid with an asthma attack to very vigilant parents, insisting on vaccine shots conspiracy. Your smile turned more strained with every word, and your left eye almost twitched at "how much are you paid per shot?"
And that was only the morning.
"Kao, stop squirming! What will the doctor think of you?"
The boy, a 5-year-old Kao-kun, who was supposed to have his hearing examined, fell on deaf ears to his mother's pleading words (not literally, as you hoped, standing with an otoscope beside the kid).
"I am so sorry, Doc, I don't know what's gotten into him," Kao-kun's mother, Nakata-san, offered you an apologetic, forced smile, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy towards her.
"It's completely fine, Nakata-san. Kids don't usually like these sorts of things," smiling warmly back at the lady, you briefly patted her arm in support. Nakata-san only pressed her lips into a thin line and opened her purse to fish a handkerchief to dab on her forehead.
The sudden April heatwave enveloped Japan in its suffocating embrace. Heat clung to skin in rivulets of sweat, and people fought for every sliver of shade, not to mention the usual humidity — the feeling of your blouse sticking to your back set your overstimulated brain on fire even more, but you didn't have the right to complain.
Poor Nakata-san, meanwhile, murmured in despair and sighed, shaking her head, "He's usually such a nice, smart boy. We started to teach him Hiragana a couple of weeks ago, just like in that handout you gave us, Doc. Oh, I have it, wait a minute, —"
The woman started to browse through her endless purse again, but you interrupted her softly, glancing briefly at the clock. Ten minutes were left before the next appointment, and Kao-kun seemed way more interested in the poster of the giant green cactus Sabo-san, a chair named Kosshi and…Inai Inai Baa.
The corners of your mouth twitched with a bright grin.
Of course.
"Hey, Kao-kun," drawling playfully, you waved at the poster. "Do you like Inai Inai Baa?"
The boy's voice rose to a high-pitched tone as he nodded enthusiastically, "Yes!"
You clapped happily, hoping to match Kao-kun and beamed at the kid, "You want to play Peekaboo?"
The boy practically jumped out of his seat, and Nakata-san hurried to shush him, only for you to gently stop her with a knowing look. She stopped in her tracks, blinking a couple of times; as the realisation dawned on her, the woman sent you a conspiring wink.
"Kao-kun, I am gonna look for Inai Inai Baa in your ears," as you finally had the kid's attention, he looked up and hung on your every word, "Will you help me — "
You barely finished the sentence as the boy shouted happily, his toothy grin on full display:
"Yes, yes, yes!"
The sight dispersed the gloomy clouds in your mind like the brightest sunray.
Kao-kun helped you to spot the dog, Wanwan, every time he barked into the boy's ear, and you discreetly wiped your forehead as you finished the examination and put the data into the kid's medical record.
"Doc, you're the best!" Nakata-san pressed her palm to her chest, thanking you sincerely. Kao-kun eyed the bowl of lollipops on your table as his mother kept talking about the school they were about to choose. Stiffling a warm chuckle, you nodded at the bowl.
"Help yourself, Kao-kun, don't be shy."
The boy beamed and hurriedly thanked you, urged by his mother on the way out of your office. He was already too fascinated with the sweet and colourful cartoon sticker inside, but dutifully listened to his mom. You waved back with a laugh.
"Take care!"
When you finally had two minutes for yourself, you fished a small handy fan. As it always happened in the most inconvenient times, the climate control in your office decided it certainly had enough and retired after a long period of duty. The facility manager grumbled that the equipment hadn't been modernised in a long time, glaring at you as if you were the sole reason for that decision. You highly suspected your beloved fiancé (to be precise, his family) of being in charge of it. Yet, somehow, the one on the receiving blade of occasional pointed glances and hushed whispers was usually you. No wonder: Naoya had a knack for charming everyone under his spell.
And you were just…you. Your presence, so tethered to his, didn't help the situation either. Mostly, that didn't bother you: little patients adored you, while parents paid their respects — after all, that mattered the most.
One of the nurses kindly informed you that the next appointment had been cancelled. That rare occasion had you raise your brows in a mild surprise, which later turned into a fleeting moment of joy: since it was the last appointment before the day hospital's checks, you could go there earlier and later hurry to the little cafe near the hospital. The cold kiwi lemonade had been quietly haunting your mind since the moment you stepped into your office.
"How are you feeling today, Rika-chan?"
"Better now!"
The little girl with two pigtails stilled as you checked her throat and discreetly let out a sigh of relief as you turned to her mother with good news.
"I think Rika-chan is going to be discharged soon," muttering under your breath as you flipped the papers, you couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of happy Okami-san. "Cephalexin 20 mg…yeah, that's right. I'll see you tomorrow at the final examination, Rika-chan!"
The girl eagerly nodded, hugging her Kuromi plushie, and your chuckle morphed into a warm laugh.
Walking out of room 626, you hurried to the last patient of the day. Knocking softly at the door, you couldn't help the low roaring of your pulse in your head. Your grip on the chart tightened, and with a deep breath, you stepped inside.
Gojo was engrossed in his phone, thumbs flying over the screen, and cast occasional glances at Megumi, who was quietly drawing in the corner. The black crayon wandered over the paper; judging by Megumi's brows, knitted in concentration, and the peeked out tongue, he was more than focused. Your gift, a little plushie dog, alongside a giant toad, guarded Megumi's peace like loyal knights.
Another warm sunray crept through the clouds.
Too absorbed in his own little world, the kid didn't notice you. Contrary to his uncle, whose ears immediately perked up at the sound of the doors creaking. A bright grin spread on Gojo's handsome face at the sight of your slightly hesitant form — you had to blink a couple of times just to reassure yourself that you weren't dreaming — before he sent you a conspiratorial wink with his finger on his mouth and pointed at the boy.
Pressing your lips into a thin line so as not to burst with laughter, you closed the door as quietly as you could. What was a paediatrician without a little whimsy?
"Hey, Megumi-chan," Gojo drawled in an overly obnoxious manner, earning Megumi's unimpressed look. Gojo's grin turned even brighter. "What are you drawing out there?"
Megumi's grip on the crayon tightened, and he mumbled back, finally sneaking a glance at you, "I am not finished yet."
Gojo wasn't quite satisfied with his nephew's answer and leaned over to peek at the table, only for Megumi to snatch the drawing from his uncle's nosy gaze.
"Come on, Gumibear —"
The boy's ears went pink at the humiliation that Gojo was bestowing upon him with a mere nickname, and the glare he sent his uncle was nothing but murderous. "I told you not to call me that!"
"Careful, Megs, your anger level is wa-a-ay above your daily norm, ouch!"
You chewed on the inside of your cheek, but a few chuckles left your lips nonetheless.
Gojo slumped back in his chair with a theatrical groan, resting his palm on his forehead like a damsel in distress; his biceps flexed with each movement in a white t-shirt.
Well, it was really hot.
You allowed yourself a second of gawking before eventually stepping to Megumi's side.
"Can I have a look, Megumi-kun?"
Megumi's eyes briefly flicked between you and the drawing he clutched close to his chest before he shrugged, "I still have to finish it."
Peeking at Gojo, you saw the amusement dancing in his bright blue gaze. So, it was a yes.
"Had a rough day?"
Your hands on the pulse oximeter stilled for a moment. Megumi's eyelashes fluttered with a tiny fractured breath. Gojo's casual words sent your heart stammeting against your ribs like a trapped bird; however, you forced yourself to focus and didn't tear your gaze away until you saw the result.
"Saturation is still not good."
Gojo, who hovered over you, knitted his brows in concern and opened his mouth to ask you something when Megumi's exhausted voice tugged on your heartstrings.
"You put a mask on me, right?"
The movement of your throat was sharp as you swallowed and exchanged glances with Gojo. He pressed his lips in a thin line and gave you a silent nod, urging you to continue.
"It's nothing bad, Megumi-kun." Your hand, warm and pleasant, rested on the boy's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. A deep frown crossed over his features as Megumi murmured in a barely audible voice.
"You are always saying that."
After another worried glance shared with Gojo, you kneeled before the boy's bed and put your mask down, so he could see you better.
"I promise you it won't hurt you. Besides, your uncle and I will be with you all the time." Even turned away from Gojo, you could feel the light grin already tugging on the corner of his mouth. The boy's eyes flicked between you and Gojo, and after seconds of inner debating, his posture relaxed just a tad, and he grumbled.
"I suppose it's okay then."
Your chest suspiciously tightened as you watched Megumi's small fingers twitch in Gojo's hold. His shades were gone, offering you an unobstructed look at the blue of his eyes, simmering with concern, framed by the snow of his lashes.
Casting your gaze back down at the boy, you concentrated on the task.
"He's slowly getting better," a soft, reassuring murmur left your lips as your gaze lingered on Megumi, who dozed off, exhausted after all the procedures. Then it landed on Gojo, driven by some unknown force. His hand hovered over the boy's shoulders — strangely unsure for a man like him — and finally drifted down to tuck Megumi's blanket in clumsily.
"I hope so."
His hesitant whisper stirred something deeply buried. Before the ever-present tentativeness could consume you, your hand settled on Gojo's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. The contact made your fingers twitch with an unexpected urge to dig them deeper into the muscled skin. The heat immediately coloured your cheeks; a fleeting thought of yanking your hand away crossed your mind, but it was too late and impolite.
Gojo stilled beneath your touch and slowly turned around. The blue of his eyes held you captive in their waves, but his small, gentle smile gave you a much-needed breath of fresh air.
Only to take it back with a casual brush of the long fingers, subtly grazing your hand. A fragile, aching in its delicateness, flower bloomed quietly between you.
Soon, Gojo's ringtone dispelled the strange air. You discreetly shook your head in a skimpy attempt to get rid of the image of the man beside you, now talking quietly to someone on the phone. His lips widened into a smile so bright and unadulterated, it transformed his face into something…angelic.
Naoya's disdainful scowl from the morning emersed in your exhausted mind, no matter how hard you tried to drown it.
Gojo shot you a sidelong glance — seemingly relentless to decipher a look of somberness on your face — on your way to the elevator.
He couldn't quite put a finger on the sudden feeling the bags under your eyes evoked in him.
Your fingers came to fiddle with your chain as you worried your bottom lip. Then your hand limply fell at the absence.
Yeah. Right.
Gojo's eyes followed your gesture, but you seemed so hollowed out, as the life had been suddenly sucked out of you, that he didn't think of anything better than to blurt out, "Wanna have a coffee?"
Eyes widening, you stilled completely. That man, Gojo, who looked like a secret the morning tentatively shared, a kiss of the rosy sunset on your skin, and a whisper of a mystical night, had asked you out?
Or were you imagining things? Was he just bored? Polite?
At first, a usual thought of waving a man who somehow had his mind hazy enough to look at you immediately crossed your mind. A hot wave of panic flooded you like a strong ocean. The need to flee somewhere, just not to stay under Gojo's piercing blue gaze, ordered a retreat already. You almost opened your mouth to offer a moot excuse, with Naoya's presence looming over you even miles away, and…
Abruptly closed it.
The sparkle of rebellious flame surged high and slowly devoured the gnawing hesitance.
Your silence gave Gojo quite an unambiguous sign. His smile wavered for a moment, taking a bitter edge, and he stepped back, raising his arms in surrender.
"Oh, I am sorry, you might think I want to hit on you or whatever, but it's just so hot —"
You cut him off with a shrug too quick and a grin too sharp. "Sure. Why not?"
Surprised, Gojo blinked before tilting his head as the boyish grin slowly made its way back on his handsome face.
"Lead the way, Doc."
For a moment, you weighed all the options on the inner scales: the hospital cafeteria was immediately off the limits — even the walls had ears there, as well as a popular cafe just around the corner. The possibility of someone grassing you up to Naoya rose tenfold.
Yet, you had something on mind.
"Meet me in ten minutes near the entrance."
A content hum and a theatrical salute were your answers.
ੈ✩‧₊˚
Mentally thanking yourself for filling out daycare forms in advance, and the raging flu that knocked Yaga out, which saved you from the lunch meetings, you set the world record for changing out of the scrubs and hurried to the elevator.
The hospital still buzzed with worried patients and exhausted doctors. You craned your neck to see a familiar spark of frosty hair outside, and your pulse roared in your head at the sight of the tall man, leaning on the wall with a casual air of confidence.
Smoothing down your sundress — for some unknown reason — you hurried out.
"Hi!"
Gojo was looking somewhere past the crowd, a melancholic smile playing on his lips, and your words made him abruptly turn to you with a messy white fringe falling over his forehead. His smile dipped into something warm as he took you in.
"You're not in scrubs, it's the first!" An airy chuckle left Gojo as you led the way to the small cafe, nestled between towers of the enormous business centre, and a flower shop. To your surprise, Gojo immediately fell into step with you; Naoya never bothered to wait for you. You had always been expected to catch up to him, no matter what. "Nice dress."
Warm spring air caressed you both with delicate touches. The pink sundress you wore — Naoya raised his brow in the morning and mused whether you were dressed for work or a playground — licked the soft skin of your thighs with every step. Gojo sincerely tried not to gawk at the legs of his nephew's doctor (wait, was it a breach of ethics? He sincerely hoped no), but it became increasingly difficult.
Luckily, you stopped near the small, cosy coffee shop just before his feigned nonchalance would've morphed into something more scorching.
"Here we are!"
The scents of cinnamon and peppermint immediately hit his senses, mixed with the drumming sounds of an espresso machine and the faint hum of the climate control. The sudden temperature difference caused you to blow a lone strand of hair that escaped your ponytail off your face, and a whiff of your fresh perfume (albeit with a strong sense of antiseptic clinging to you like a second skin — once a doctor, always a doctor) sent his pulse drumming quietly.
Just when Gojo wondered if you felt at least something too, your shoulder lightly brushed against his. He didn't know what to do, because even the touch like that was enough for something to stir in his chest. So he just stilled, and let his gaze unabashedly drift over the delicate line of your neck as you studied something through the display.
Perfect.
"Recommendations are accepted," clearing his throat, Gojo waved at the arrays of pastries and rubbed the back of his neck. "Damn. Might as well order everything."
The look of pure confusion and something suspiciously similar to awe on his face earned a quiet laugh from you.
"Uhm, I usually like those chocolate-filled croissants," you murmured, hesitantly pointing at the pastry that looked like it had just descended from the famous French boulangeries. "Sometimes I take a tiramisu or a panacotta. Their strawberry-filled mochis are absolutely to die for!"
Beside you, Gojo went completely rigid. You felt the usual fear that you might've fucked something up — nothing new, but something inside you wished Gojo would be kind enough to let it slide — but then he turned around.
"I love mochis!" He breathed out not even with enthusiasm — a playful reverence coloured his tone. His eyes sparkled even brighter.
You briefly discussed other desserts displayed, and you complimented the ones shaped like fruits ("Actually, very close to Cédric Grolet's!"), before you attempted to grab your wallet from the purse and… met a disappointed nothingness. You sulked a bit and stepped back in the line before the barista would glare daggers at you, giving Gojo an apologetic shrug.
"I forgot my wallet, so this time I am just gonna —" You glanced around the cafe. "Wander around, I guess."
Gojo blinked and shook his head with an airy chuckle, pulling his wallet out, "You're so funny."
Your smile briefly faltered. Nevertheless, you forced it to stay plastered.
"I know, yeah."
A light frown flickered across Gojo's face, but before he could even form a question, the barista, a young, lively girl, greeted him with a joyous chirp.
"Good afternoon, what can I get you today?"
Flashing a charming grin, Gojo slightly leaned over and pointed at the pastry with a low purr, "Hello. I would like to have a caramel latte and that whole set of fruit desserts. A box of strawberry mochi and two — no, wait, three chocolate croissants for takeaway."
"Noted," the girl nodded as the light pink tinged her cheeks at the sight of Gojo. Well, no wonder. "Anything else?"
"Make the latte really sweet. And whatever this lady wants, of course." With that, Gojo finally leaned back and waved at the pastries as if he had baked them all by himself, "My treat, Doc."
Completely stunned, you just huffed an unsure laugh, "No, Gojo, it's okay, I am just —"
"Please," Gojo's voice lost all the cockiness just for a second, offering you a peek of the man beneath the facade. "Do me a favour. You showed me this place, after all."
A strange kind of fog clogged your mind as you watched Gojo casually take out his black card. You murmured something about a kiwi lemonade.
He ended up buying another yearly supply of sweets for you as well.
Gojo flipped his wallet, and a photo tucked inside — him hugging a couple of kids — immediately caught your attention. Judging by a grumpy scowl on one of the children's faces, you successfully deduced the boy to be Megumi. And the girl with a shy grin, showing a peace sign, should've been his sister, Tsumiki.
A flicker of warmth sparkled in your chest as your lips twitched in a smile.
Shifting your gaze just a tad, you noticed Gojo's business card peeking out from the photo. Your best attempt at squinting at it wasn't successful, but the sight of his surname in a bold business font awoke something in your mind.
You certainly heard it. Maybe Naoya once happened to drop it during dinner? Or some hushed pieces of gossip finally reached you at the numerous Zenins' gatherings?
The image of Naoya stubbornly kept surfacing in your mind, no matter how hard you tried to bury it under the pretence of nonchalance towards a certain white-haired man. The mere thought of your future husband finding out about your little detour sent a fresh wave of fear through you.
God. What the hell were you doing?!
Swallowing, you briefly mused about fleeing, but the force that seemed to be stronger than the gravity itself — attraction, blending with recklessness — chained you to the chair right in front of Gojo.
Damn him. You felt like a butterfly pinned to a board by the sharpness of his gaze.
"What's bothering you?"
Forcefully blinking yourself back into reality, you sent Gojo a confused, apologetic smile, "Nothing much."
"Come on, Doc," he prompted, resting his chin on the palm. Almost half of the caramel latte in front of him was gone, as well as a peach-shaped dessert. Yours still rested untouched on the plate. "You've been hypnotising that poor peach for a solid five minutes."
You nervously twirled a straw between your fingers. Shit. You didn't even notice it. And with Gojo staring at you, his brow lazily arched, you decided to opt for a half-truth.
"Your surname. Where could I hear it?"
Gojo's grin withered a little before taking a strained edge. Just a fleeting second for everyone else, but if sharing a roof with Naoya had taught you anything, it was attunement to other people's senses. So, you just waved your hands in surrender.
"I didn't mean to intrude, sorry. Forget it."
The sincerity of your gaze softened the sudden harshness of Gojo's features and the rigidness in his shoulders. You indeed were just… curious.
He shook his head with a light chuckle, "No worries. My family is quite well-known. Limitless, maybe you heard it?"
Eyed widening, you almost spluttered the poor kiwi lemonade.
"Limitless? You mean that big company in advanced robotics and technology?"
Well, that surely explained why he spent so much time with Megumi at the hospital. Nepo babies weren't used to working a lot, judging by Naoya.
Gojo gave you a lazy nod and took a bite of another pastry, looking somewhere past you at the bustling Tokyo streets, and dropped off-handedly.
"Yeah. But I am not a big fan of boring meetings, reports and presentations."
Something in his tone suggested that it wasn't a single reason.
You just prompted gently, "What are you doing then?"
Gojo's smile turned relaxed.
"I am a restaurant owner."
Stunned, you paused with a spoon halfway through, "What? That's so cool!"
Laughing warmly, he confirmed again, "Yep. Three in Tokyo, one in Kyoto, and…," he leaned over with a suspicious look and whispered loudly, sending you a wink, "planning to open in Yokohama as well. But that's a secret just for you."
A light chuckle left you as your face heated up from the sudden proximity. You quickly cast your gaze down on the plate, cutting through a delicious treat.
"So, where are they? Maybe we, sorry, I —," you corrected yourself immediately, earning a slow, curious tilt of Gojo's head, "visited them?"
He only dropped one name, but the mere mention of that restaurant had you staring at him in shock, eyes sparkling with excitement. A dollop of soft cream was smudged over your chin, but in your contagious joy, you never really noticed. The blue of Gojo's gaze softened into a warm breeze, embracing you in a tender gale.
"Really? Is that one in Ginza, a rooftop bar? God, I've been dying to visit it! That grilled red squid with herbs? Damn," gesturing animatedly, you quickly explained at Gojo's curious glance, "I had a bit at a family gathering. And let me tell you," now it was your turn to lean in with a conspirational whisper, "it was the best thing in that evening."
Despite Gojo's attempts to compose himself, his grin widened even more as he asked, "So, why haven't you visited it yet? I mean, you look pretty happy talking about it."
Your own smile slowly faded at Gojo's ask, and the unsure curl of your shoulder that followed immediately didn't go unnoticed.
Naoya's dismissive words sparkled brightly in your mind again, and you waved them as best as you could. Hugging the empty cup with your lemonade, you attempted to joke weakly, "Didn't have enough time. You know, hospital, shifts, meetings."
Gojo's lazy drumming slowed a little before coming to a complete halt. A warm feeling cracked in his chest at the memory of you attending Megumi.
"Ah, of course. Sorry for that. You are the busiest that I will ever be."
You weren't used to it. To someone listening to you with a genuine expression. To someone casually complimenting you. To someone including you in a conversation. As if you were worthy of someone's attention.
And that someone being Gojo caused a warm sun to rise in your hollowed soul.
So you resorted to the only thing familiar to you.
"Ah, it's nothing. I am just a paediatrician," offering a usual downplayed explanation, you didn't even notice the muscle in Gojo's jaw jump. Why were you doing it? "I mean, there are surgeons and — "
"You are joking, right? You are literally a doctor."
Gojo's incredulous tone caught you off guard. Shoulders dropping, your smile curled into a nervous, unsure scowl, while he went on.
"You're doing such a great job. I mean, all of that stuff, checking saturation, temperature, carrying all these charts, and, on top of that, working with kids! This is so cool."
A weird, scorching feeling coloured your cheeks. What was actually the last time you heard someone talking about you like that? All sincere, kind, and…warm?
The lump in your throat started to feel suspicious, and you took a shuddering breath in an attempt to accept Gojo's words with no usual overthinking, "I guess so. Kids are really cool."
Popping a spoonful of panna cotta in his mouth, Gojo hummed in acknowledgement.
"You're cooler. Do you like working with kids?"
For the second time, you were sharing a conversation, your smile widened, tone dipping into an affectionate tenderness, "Of course! I like seeing them smile as they finally get better. I love helping them to navigate through the world, especially knowing I can do that and make a difference! I want to make the start of their life easy and smooth. The rest of it may be shitty, but the childhood…"
Quiet steel crept into your voice, honing your tone.
"…the childhood is sacred."
Your eyes suddenly bore remembrance to black holes — swallowing Gojo in vast expanses of them. He stared, unblinking, and recalled that version of you on the lone evening. Smoking, laughing. Teasing.
Where was the line between that version of you and the shy doctor sitting in front of him, shrinking, lessening herself to fit some image Gojo hadn't deciphered yet? Who were you?
The truth might've hid amongst smiles, sincere, and too stretched to be genuine; glances, soft, and too pointed to offer truth; gestures, secretive, and too deep-seated to bear some meaning.
Gojo recalled your laugh as you talked about the damned grilled red squid. Maybe that version of you, that crept in the cracks of all the conversations you shared, was the real one?
He didn't know yet. But hell, he was determined to solve the mystery that his nephew's doctor was. With those sweet smiles. That sharp tongue. And that contagious laugh.
"Gojo? Are you listening?"
Okay. Perhaps he went into recalling a little bit too much.
He let his gaze wander over your features freely. "Yeah. You mentioned that kids usually don't like their ears checked. But honestly, what kid likes hospitals?"
Your shoulders shook with mirth as you shot him a quick, shy grin. Gojo felt his lips curling into a warm smile as well.
"Do you like working at that hospital?"
Twirling a straw, you stilled at his question. Then a deliberately calm shrug came as you glanced through the window.
"I like working with kids."
"That's not what I asked." Despite the warmth in his tone, you managed to notice an unusual heaviness lurking behind it. Nothing in Gojo, from the curious tilt of his head to the calmness in his blue gaze, revealed his true intentions.
Still. An assessing gleam that flashed in Gojo's eyes told you much more than he probably thought.
His fingers drummed against the table with barely concealed impatience. You mirrored his tilt and drawled hesitantly, "Could've been better, honestly. The department's director is constantly on our ears about financing and modernising the equipment. But, you know. Paediatrics isn't on the priority list."
Gojo hummed — a low, throaty sound that had you casting your gaze immediately down on your plate — and leaned in. His brows furrowed in frustration.
"Really?"
You mumbled something unintelligible as your shoulders curled inwards.
"But that doesn't make any sense," a murmur full of disbelief left him soon, addressing no one in particular, but rather musing aloud. "You're doing such an important thing, taking care of kids. I saw you running around like a Duracel rabbit, and this constant chaos. Yet you're doing such a great job! Especially with Megs. He likes you, you know? And he doesn't like doctors."
You leaned a bit with your chin cradled in your palm, looking out of the windows: some lady hurried to the cafe, barely catching up to her doggie, an adorable Pomeranian. The doorbell soon announced their entrance, followed by a cheerful bark.
"No wonder. He has a long story with them. I am afraid he just has to like me because I am a lady with masks and all that stuff."
"I am serious, Doc. Believe me," a small laugh followed his grin — you would've been damned if you didn't spot bitterness buried in it.
"I know when Megs feels…," Gojo pondered for a moment, looking for the right word. "Acceptable towards someone."
Now it was your turn to smile.
"He's not an easy kid," you murmured to Gojo after some time as you both watched the lady attending to her adorable, lively puppy. Gojo's grin widened for a second before settling back with heaviness too unfitting for the mask he usually wore.
"You can say so. They both went through…a lot."
You could only press your lips in sympathy. No matter how many tragedies you witnessed, each of them had left scars on you. Especially when you found out the reason Gojo adopted Megumi and Tsumiki.
Gojo didn't like to talk about it, but you gathered enough from the bits of conversations, information from Megumi's chart and heavy pauses between the words. Didn't press: one time, you saw Gojo examining the handout on how to help a kid process the grief, and noticed Gojo's gaze hardening into an iceberg.
So, you kept all assumptions safely catalogued in your head.
A heavy silence settled between you, interrupted only by excited yips of the Pomeranian, distant melodies of some indie song coming from the speakers, and the whirring of the cash register.
Hand drifting mindlessly to scratch an old scar, your fingers twitched with an indescribable urge to soothe Gojo's wounds as well. In the end, he lost his sister, too. And as shocked as he might've been, he had two distraught kids to bring up.
Did he have a chance to mourn her at all? Or just poured himself into the life that suddenly felt too enormous to fit into?
Judging by the distant waves of his gaze and the melancholy flickering over his face, too beautiful for all the sorrows, he didn't.
As much as you wanted to console him, to tell him that you hid scars like that as well, you couldn't bring yourself to do this. The lock on your heart was still impenetrable.
A bitter realisation, melting into a sour resentment that you didn't remember the last time you felt like that towards your fiancé, had your chest constricted with the weight of ache.
Instead, you tried not to dwell on it. Lifting your hand, your slightly trembling fingers grazed Gojo's hand across the table. A thick whisper followed.
"I am sorry."
Gojo's head immediately snapped up at the sound of your soft words. His eyes met yours in a moment of shared grief and quiet understanding — something he hadn't allowed himself to feel for a long time.
A silent yearning to be seen hid in the desperate twitch of his fingers as they squeezed your palm in response.
He quickly masked that momentary weakness behind a frantic clearing of throat and a casual, too casual ask.
"You lost your chain?"
Frowning a bit, you shifted your gaze to the dip of your cleavage; a sudden, shaking breath followed as you gently pulled your hand back to touch the bare skin.
Naoya's words, full of malice and icy wrath, flashed behind your closed eyelids just as if he had been throwing them at you now. He was seething with ire that morning.
You just sat there: a silent witness to irritation consuming Naoya more and more. Mentally went through every place you visited, every corner rounded, and every room attended. Still, it had no sense at all.
The ring was gone.
"Yeah."
"It must've been important."
You gritted your teeth until the muscles in your jaws twitched. Slowly, you lifted your gaze and couldn't believe the next words that left your lips, "It's okay. Something that was meant to be mine would make its way back, right?"
Gojo's eyes widened a bit at the sudden declaration. A boyish grin curled on his lips as he just shrugged in response, "I guess so."
Just in time. An alarm on your phone not so kindly informed you that your lunch was over. Oh, how you wished that it could last a small eternity longer.
Did Gojo feel that as well?
Watching his tall figure retreat to a shop nearby, you thought about the warm sea that spilt in his irises, when you reminded him that you would meet again tomorrow.
And then, as the sudden gust of wind threw your hair back into your face, you realised when you heard Gojo's surname. The sound of it had become a frequent guest of all the Zenins' outraged discussions.
But…
What did that mean to you?
ੈ✩‧₊˚
"Darling?"
Your voice sounded hesitant in the car on the way to your parents' house.
Tearing his gaze from the streets of the Denenchofu neighbourhood, adorned with lush greenery, and the rows of houses, draped in elegance and serenity, Naoya quirked his brow at you in a silent question.
With a hasty breath, you twiddled with your bag. The damn binder kept evading you like on a cue. A quiet curse left your lips as you felt Naoya's patience wearing thinner and thinner with each flimsy attempt of yours. You heard the irritated click of his tongue just as you fished the folder. Handed it to your fiancé and watched boredom on his face morphing into vague surprise and… mild interest.
"What is it?"
"It's my — uhm, you know, it's something I am doodling while not busy and —"
Nayoa interrupted you with a sharp glance, "Quit babbling."
"Right. Sorry," forcing an apologetic grin, you folded your hands on your lap. "It's my sort of portfolio. Best of my works. I just — would like to know your opinion about that."
"And why do you want me to do this?"
"One of my patients' parents is an art dealer. He noticed some pictures in my office, and we exchanged a couple of words." Naoya's eyes narrowed at your revelation; you quickly corrected yourself, "That's it, I swear!"
"Quicker," he cut you off with a wave as if you were stealing minutes of his precious time.
Your gaze briefly flicked between your hands and the binder in his hands.
There it was. Something shaping as an opportunity to share with the rest of the world what your soul ached for and your eyes saw.
With a sharp exhale, you concluded, "Anyway, his gallery is searching for some new artists for the opening of a new exhibition. I thought — I thought I might give it a try." Your voice cracked at the last words.
A low, almost indifferent hum was all you got in response.
Breath bated, you intently watched Naoya slowly opening the folder and going through the pictures with deliberate scrupulousness. Head tilted, his gaze wandered over each line and stroke. You examined every minuscule twitch in his expression just to notice the fleeting movement of his eyebrows. Something resembling bewilderment flicked across his face.
A flash of excitement faintly sparkled within you.
Only for Naoya's bewilderment contorting into disbelief, masked by cold indifference.
"You drew it?"
A glance at his face didn't stir anything suspicious in you, so you slowly nodded, lips curling into a nervous smile.
His gaze darted to your makeshift portfolio once again. And then a smirk — a quick twitch of his lips — followed. As cruel as his love for you was.
"Don't you have something more important to do than simply wasting your time?"
The splendour of excitement faded within you into a dim flare. Your smile wavered as you breathed out, "I don't under— understand."
Your distress only fed Nayoa's ego even more. He carelessly tossed the portfolio back on your lap and drawled in mock sympathy, leaning closer.
"Aw, my poor dove. You are not born yesterday, aren't you? Still so innocent and full of naive dreams. You should've known better already."
Your grip on the poor binder tightened. The wrinkled, beaming face of your little patient caught your attention; but despite the usual reluctant acceptance of his words, you felt another match put to a growing flame inside.
Raising your chin a little, you noticed with a grim satisfaction that Naoya was slightly taken aback.
"Should know better what exactly?"
His smirk sharpened into a ruthless blade.
"That the world doesn't care about the wishes of innocent little doves like you, my darling." For all your desperate attempts to stand your ground, your heart sank to your stomach. Disappointment and your own failure buzzed in your tired mind, bearing Naoya's taunting voice.
"You think that guy really wanted these drawings of yours? Oh, darling, please. He probably was just polite. After all, you are the one who can write a slightly wrong prescription for his kid out of spite and —"
Cheeks flaring at the entendre in his voice, you blinked in shock, "What? I would never in my life do that!"
Naoya peacefully hold his hands out.
"Just saying, dove. I only want the best for you." Naoya's hand came to pinch your chin as he let his gaze roam over your face. Then a fake concern flashed on his face — you lifted a heavy gaze on your fiancé. "Saving you from an inevitable disappointment. No need to worry that pretty little head of yours about anything."
And then his tone deceived you into pretending sweetness, "You said you were bored?"
You answered it with an unblinking stare, which Naoya interpreted in his own way. As usual.
"Maybe it's high time for you to step into the wedding preparations. All I hear is endless chirping about napkins and lilies and the size of your obi sash. Why don't you join it? And while musing, maybe at least try to look for your engagement ring."
With that derisive scowl, your future husband leaned over to order something for your driver. And like that, the conversation ended.
Just like your pitiful attempts to become something that you weren't. A sandcastle that you carefully built crumbled in your hands, putting all your dillusions to an end.
Naive, little dove.
That was who you were, right?
Ache travelled down your cheeks in briny tears. They hit the pieces of your heart in lines and sketches, smudging them with sadness.
As the car finally stopped in front of a big house, screaming about quiet luxury, you quickly wiped all the signs of your life quietly falling apart. And when you stepped out of the car with your hand resting leisurely in the crook of Naoya's elbow, your smile only painted the image of a happy fiancée and a nice daughter.
The portfolio in the depths of your bag told another story.
For all the heavy air and weight of disappointment following your every step like an ominous shadow, you still preferred home walls to the bars of the Zenins' cage.
At least, you were in your territory.
Naoya had never been particularly interested in stepping into that place — perhaps he regarded it as settling to your level — but much to your surprise, he always accompanied you.
Deep down, you were well aware of the true reason; it was neither his affection nor understanding. Oh, no. Quite the opposite.
Your home greeted you with polite indifference.
If it had a face, you were sure it would wear the same expressionless look you often witnessed on your parents. A deep-buried bitterness surged inside at the sight of framed photos, depicting your family. The main guest was always their most beloved child — their business, its numerous triumphs and accomplishments. Its presence had always gnawed on you at the dinner table and hovered over, akin to a skilful executioner, with the axe of their expectations behind the back.
It was a competition you could never win.
As wounding as that realisation was, you swallowed it and every sharp remark to come.
After all, those crumbs were better than facing the silence.
Your mother joyously trilled something to Naoya, who listened to her with a mild interest. You were well aware that was the closest to politeness he was able to muster. As a lot of men tended to be, your future husband had never been keen on participating in "women's useless prattle".
But not as your father studied him with a scrutiny too unfitting for someone so blazenly indifferent.
At least, that was what you believed him to be.
Because lately, every time you stole a glance at your father as he talked to Naoya, you couldn't help but notice a mocking sparkle in his eyes. As if Naoya entertained him by the mere fact of his existence. You silently wondered if he was able to sense it, because your fiancé's attempts to earn his future father-in-law's approval were met with a quick grin and a curt nod more and more.
Of course, it wounded Naoya's pride and ego. Everyone had to be enamoured with your fiancé; a few tailored compliments and seemingly soft glances were usually enough. Naoya never bothered himself trying too much, though, just because he initially treated people like someone to use and discard later.
The only exception was you at the start of your relationships. He woven himself into your life with late-night strolls, dinners at the expensive restaurants, attentive gestures, and charming smiles. Until he made sure you were on the hook of his affection and in a constant state of craving more. Playing with you, testing the limits of your obedience and his own vanity, gave him a cruel sense of satisfaction.
Either way, some flattery and asking for business advice didn't fascinate your father into actually accepting Naoya. Sometimes your fiancé's disappointment and anger burst into spiteful remarks directed at you, although they quickly morphed into distant rambles as he understood how pathetic he might've looked. Trying to earn respect from the man who was supposed to give it to him on a silver platter.
If there was one thing you were certain about Naoya, that was his absolute despise to being looked down on.
You didn't know what game your father was playing — it might be just another mind game or whatever it was called in terms of business — but you enjoyed it inwardly nonetheless.
The clink of silvery cutlery followed soon after the usual exchanges among the whispers of pristine tablecloth and rivers of elite alcohol. Nayoa's shoulder brushed against yours every time he reached for whiskey. The gradual rise of his pitch matched the growing annoyance within you. You politely waved the maid every time she walked to your side with a glass.
"Ah, darling," your mother's cheeks were already painted red from numerous portions of Roku gin. Otherwise, she wouldn't be as kind as now. "Why don't you try this Roku gin? Torii-sama sent us the premium Sakura Bloom Edition, might as well try one!"
Your mother paused to pop a cherry in her mouth. Then her eyes comically widened as she shared a few curious glances with your aunties, earning tipsy giggles. Naoya's jaw tightened. "Your fiancé might not like your drinking! Silly me."
Your plastered smile twitched for a moment before you let a fake saccharine chuckle and nodded wordlessly. You knew better after the last gathering in the Zenins' estate.
Unknown to you, not only did Naoya watch you like a master, seeing his doll take the stage for the first time, but so did your father. His calm expression wavered for a moment before a usual mask slotted back into place.
"Darling." All the voices quietened as your father spoke up. Your grip on the fork tightened as you braced yourself and slowly dragged your eyes to meet his gaze, spine involuntarily straightening under its weight.
"Father?"
"Tell us about your…work," the last word left your father rather hesitantly as he absent-mindedly twirled a lavish whiskey glass between his fingers. Saying that surprised you would be an understatement: your work, the path you chose, instead of becoming another cog in their enormous corporate machine, had long been a touchy subject in your family. Your becoming a doctor was acceptable. But a paediatrician? It evoked a couple of arguments, but that was the most you could have ever received. From that moment, your profession hid between the pauses in conversations and was swept under the rug like a useless mention.
The voices around the table came to a complete halt, and even the lone clink of your cousin's spoon against the plate sounded shocked.
Trying to ignore the bewildered glances and especially the pointed glare of your fiancé at the lack of attention to his superb persona, you smiled corteously, "Thank you for asking, father. Everything is going nicely, and the kids are as healthy as they can be. Well, you know them. You don't keep an eye on them, and the next thing you do is blow on their scraped knees."
The table remained ominously silent after your attempted little joke. You cleared your throat and carried on, feeling Naoya piercing daggers into you.
"And, uhm, our department's well-financed, surprisingly! I suppose it's Naoya's achievement. He's on the board of the shareholders, if someone doesn't know," you hastily added. The paediatrics department was buzzing with a new juicy piece of gossip, exchanging knowing looks and conspirational whispers. Just like that, your fiancé once again bathed in the glory and adoration.
Meanwhile, you weren't even completely sure he actually showed up to those meetings.
Naoya straightened a little in his seat, sending a sleazy smirk to one of your distant relatives. Her cheeks went red immediately as she cast her gaze down on the plate.
"Yeah, dove is right." Naoya's speech had long already been slurred from the alcohol, straining his breath. Your jaw twitched with effort not to grimace as it fanned over your cheek. "No wonder they had such a big problem with money. I mean, they are looking after kids. Not even real doctors, if you catch my drift."
You were so shocked and astounded that you couldn't utter a single word.
"What?" Naoya shrugged indifferently as his gaze swept across the table to notice that some people were stunned as well. He quirked a brow at you. "You said it yourself, honey. That you felt so stupid talking to surgeons sometimes."
The humiliation snaked immediately in your chest and sank its teeth into your heart, until you bled quietly on the pristine white in front of you. The silver of the fine clutter caught light, showing you a reflection of smirking Naoya, even more distorted. Your grip on it tightened, but you still played your role, sending your father a jarred grin.
However, he looked past you. His brows knitted together in confusion and something suspiciously looking like seething anger. Shivers ran down your spine as your father finally muttered.
"And who do you consider a real doctor, Naoya?"
Naoya's smirk slowly wavered before vanishing completely; his cheeks went from painfully pale to slightly pink in a span of seconds, and for a death cup like him, it equated to a crimson bloom.
Clearing his throat, your future husband threw pointed glances at you.
You remained indifferent to his silent pleas.
The sight of your fiancé, trying to make his way out of a frying pan, brought a strange kind of contentment. You hid your smirk behind the glass.
He parted his lips to answer, only to be interrupted by the maid. She bowed in an apology, saying someone was calling you,
"That must be some parent. Excuse me," you quickly stood up and hurried to another room. Ah. You wished you could see Naoya humiliating himself in front of your family a bit longer. However, you still managed to mouth "thank you" to your father, who answered you with a quick nod.
Parents' calling you all the time wasn't anything sort of an usual, but seeing Gojo appearing on your screen sent your heart stammering against your ribs. Was something wrong with Megumi? Did he feel bad again? You were just about to discharge him and —
Before the wave of overthinking consumed you, you accepted the call, thumb hesitating over the button for a few seconds longer than needed.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Doc. I am so sorry to interrupt you, really. You must be busy," Gojo chuckled nervously. You noticed with a frown that his low voice had lost its usual smoothness: he sounded genuinely… worried. You had to cut off his words before they would turn into rambling.
"Don't worry. What happened? Is Megumi alright?"
"Megs is fine, it's —," a loud bark interrupted your conversation, earning a distressed groan from Gojo. "Shiro, for the love of God! Stop that!"
The dog's barks — as you presumed, Shiro's — grew even louder, and in a couple of seconds, playful yips followed as well.
"Kuro, no, I can't play with you right now!"
As much as you would've enjoyed that chaos in every other situation, your voice took on an urgent edge, calling for Gojo's attention back.
"Gojo, I need you to focus. What's wrong?"
The sounds of the crisis on the other side of the call quietened a little, and you could finally feel Gojo's voice, coming in a nervous breath, "It's Tsumiki."
"Okay. Is she nauseous? Has a temperature? Diarrhoea? Pale, blotchy skin?"
"She threw up a couple of times. We've been at the new place near their school, and then went to an amusement park. Yeah, wrong move, I know. No diarrhoea, no. A little bit pale, though." Gojo huffed nervously. You briefly imagined him carding fingers through his hair — you picked that habit of his during Megumi's admission.
Shaking your head, you interrupted Gojo again.
"What did she eat? Did you give her some meds?"
"She had a poke bowl with tuna. Pepsi. Sugar-free, if that's important. Cotton candy. I think it's cotton candy. It should be cotton candy, 'cause we all had those damn poke bowls. Honestly, it was too sweet, even for me."
Gojo's voice turned too distant all of a sudden. You figured he was checking on Tsumiki, given the worried edge in his tone. "We went home, and I gave her Pedialyte."
"Oh, that's great. You did right, actually. She should drink a lot and have plenty of rest."
"Dunno, Doc. She's not looking very good, and I —" A deep, sharp exhale that followed twisted something in your heart.
Swallowing nervously, you tightened your grip on the phone. "I'll check on her. Just send your address. I'll be there as soon as possible."
Gojo kept silent for some time, until you heard his quiet, strangely hesitant voice. "You sure? I don't want to interrupt whatever you might have, it's a Friday evening, after all. I can call an ambulance every time."
Already putting on your light coat, you gently murmured, "No, it's okay. Don't worry about it."
"I'll send my assistant after you."
You were already familiar with Gojo's assistant, a driver, and a planner — Ijichi. The poor guy looked perpetually stressed; you genuinely didn't want to cause him even more trouble.
"I'll get a taxi."
"But —"
"By the time he gets to me, I could've already been at yours."
Gojo reluctantly agreed, not capable of fighting your logic, and dropped his address. Your brows raised in a slight surprise.
With a quiet hum, you finally called a taxi, already grimacing at Naoya's possible reaction, as you hastily texted him an apology. His face, contorted in fury, especially after a confrontation with your father, sent shivers down your spine. A thought of backing down briefly crossed your mind, but you quickly shook it away. Not only because you were always keen on keeping your promises and the poor girl involved, but…
Watching the streets of Seijo pass you in quiet green parks, tennis courts, university campuses and elite buildings, you finally admitted to yourself.
That you longed to see Gojo.
His house met you with a daunting gateway and a robotic voice, calmly telling you to proceed further. A quick, examining look around the beautiful, well-tended yard made you wonder how many people worked there, but the sight of water guns scattered over the grass, as well as the picnic blanket on the grass, gave you a much better understanding of the family living there.
After hesitating a couple of seconds, you knocked.
You fully expected Gojo to greet you right that second. Instead, you heard a couple of barks, some intelligible mumbling, and the sound of something being knocked over, until the door finally opened, revealing Gojo and a white Labrador puppy, enthusiastically chewing on the man's trouser leg.
Hardly had you opened your mouth, when another puppy — that time a black one, albeit also a Labrador — jumped on you with a joyous yip. The puppy wiggled its tail with such speed that you sincerely worried about the poor doggie launching itself into space.
A joyful chuckle left you as you petted the puppy, cooing at him, "Hello to you, too!"
Gojo finally managed to get the white one off his leg and craddled it against his chest with a loud sigh. A couple of white strands were plastered to his forehead, and he quickly wiped it with his forearm.
"Hello, Doc. Kuro, come here. Don't jump on ladies like that," he mock scolded the black one, Kuro, and flashed you a tired grin. Kuro trotted back to Gojo. "We're gonna talk about it later, I swear. With you as well, right, little guy?" Gojo murmured to the white puppy, scratching him behind the ears and nodded towards you. "Meet Shiro!"
You beamed back in response and quickly looked around. "Where's Tsumiki?"
Gojo's expression changed in an instant, a frown crossing over his handsome face. "She's upstairs. You can use the bathroom there. Wait a minute, okay?"
Nodding nervously, you found your seat near the cream sofa. A white, fluffy carpet easily swallowed the sound of your footsteps. You sank into the comfort of the armchair nearby and let your gaze drift over the dog toys on the carpet, neatly folded colouring pages on the coffee table, a half-opened pack of coloured crayons, some book about dog breeds, and… wait, was it a pastry book? Nonetheless, Cédric Grolet's? Squinting, you only got convinced more about it: the sight of familiar lemons immediately caught your eye.
Nothing strange. He was a restaurant owner, after all. Broadening a worldview was useful for everyone.
Unless…
He picked it up after you mentioned it at the cafe.
Weird warmth blossomed in your chest, spreading through your veins like sunshine, mellow and bright.
Until a sudden thought of Naoya burnt you.
"Megs, why don't you have the puppies and play with them at the yard? I'll go check on Tsumiki." Gojo's loud voice startled you out of your hazy mind. Blinking, you returned to reality and watched the grumpy kid dragging his feet to Gojo. "Oh, and say hi to Doctor-sensei. She'll look at her too."
His words had Megumi stop mid-rubbing his eyes and stare at you with mild disbelief. Waving at him, you forced a smile. You couldn't let yourself dwell on your future husband and bathe in your misery in front of a kid.
"Hi, Megumi-kun! You feeling better?"
The boy blinked as well and shrugged in response. "I guess."
As driven by the force of gravity, your eyes immediately drifted to Gojo to find him already staring at you with a curious expression. Warmth curled on his lips, but his eyes remained sharp and focused. Your cheeks heated up.
Stuffy. It was stuffy.
One of the puppies barked.
Megumi briefly glanced at the dog, and for the first time, you saw a sincere smile spreading on his face. Then, he dragged his eyes back to you with a pensive, hesitant expression and asked quietly.
"Will Tsumiki be alright?"
Your chest tightened with emotions as you kneeled before the kid. He watched you carefully, but didn't speak up.
"She is alright, from what your uncle told me. Don't worry. He takes care of her." Letting yourself look at Gojo again, you noticed something indescribable flicker over his features before he smiled back, albeit strained. A weird feeling stirred within as you added, "Both of you, actually."
Something twitched behind the stone mask that Megumi's face was. A light pink coloured his cheeks, and he dropped his gaze.
"Alrighty, Megs," Gojo held the door open, and Kuro already jumped happily outside, followed by Shiro, wiggling his tail. "But not too long! You gotta be in bed till ten, and we are going to brush teeth together this time. You're not going to fool me anymore, little punk."
Megumi rolled his eyes, but the sparkle of mischief in them was a dead giveaway. "More like you are not going to fool me like the last time you ditched the irrigator —"
You watched the puppies immediately clinging to Megumi with cheerful yips as he stepped out — and looked at Gojo. Nothing in him, save only for the tension in his broad shoulders, revealed the quiet storm brewing inside.
Swallowing, you hurried to catch up to him.
"Tsumi-chan, how are you now?" Gojo's voice dropped to the gentle warmth you had yet to hear. He quietly closed the doors behind you both and walked to the girl. A little grin tugged at the corner of your lips at the sight of the barrage of meds on the bedside table.
"I feel better now, really. Thank you, Satoru-san. You don't have to worry about me so much."
"Oh, I absolutely do," huffing loudly, Gojo walked over and cleared his throat, telling Tsumiki your name. "Doctor-sensei treats Megumi."
Tsumiki murmured something to greet you, but her last words caught you off guard.
"Nice to meet you, sensei! Satoru-san told us about you."
Eyes widened, you shifted your gaze to Gojo, who was already checking Tsumiki's bunnies. "Really? Did he?"
"Oh, yeah! I know you're really good," she chuckled warmly, but then added hastily, "I don't think there's any need to check on me, I am completely fine!"
But after this, she grimaced quickly and gave up under Gojo's hardened gaze.
Tsumiki got a certain paleness to her skin as you examined her, but nothing unusual for the food poisoning, as you indeed figured it out.
"I think it was cotton candy," the girl murmured, sinking back into the bed. A quiet sigh left her lips. "It's a shame. I liked it."
"Oh, yeah," Gojo grumbled indistinctly from his place. "I'll never let you eat that stuff again, I swear."
The girl's eyes widened as she shared a startled look with you. "But you ate five portions all by yourself! It's not fair!"
Gojo shot her a quick look, though a teasing grin danced on his lips.
"It's not the same. I am an adult, and you are just a teeny tiny girl," he joked lightly, watching a white bunny devouring an applewood stick. "You're such a fatty, fella, I swear."
"Snow is not a fatty!" Tsumiki already jumped in to protect her precious pet. "Just…furry."
"Tsumi-chan, calm down a little. You'd better relax and have a rest," you murmured, while writing down recommendations for Gojo. "Your bunny's name is Snow?"
She nodded carefully, following your words, and twiddled with her fingers.
"Yes. Snow and Ball. The owners wanted to give Snow away, because, you know," she whispered and sniffled quietly. "He was not like other bunnies."
"Albino," Gojo interjected immediately. Almost absent-mindedly: his eyes were focused on the large constellation map on the wall, but you were sure he was listening more than attentively.
"So we took Snow in, and Satoru-san later brought us Ball! He lived on a Bunny Island, but now he's with us."
Your smile wavered, sinking into fragile softness as your hand squeezed Tsumiki's. Then your gaze found Gojo again, who was trying to use Tsumiki's telescope. The sight was quite funny, given Gojo's height and the telescope's design for kids.
Not looking away, you whispered, "Satoru-san is good to you."
"He is," the girl beamed at you, but then grew shy again. Clearing her throat, she asked whether you had some pets.
The bitterness instantly rose in your chest, flooding all the warmth.
Naoya didn't understand the concept of pets and anything that could steal your attention away.
That was your first big fight.
You were just a year together.
With gaze cast down, you shrugged, not aware that Gojo was watching you all the time. "Uhm, no, unfortunately, no. With my work…not quite possible."
"Oh. It's a shame," she sighed again. "But if you want to, you can come and play with my bunnies. And I am sure Megumi won't be against you playing with Kuro and Shiro. Right, Satoru-san?"
"Yeah." He answered without missing a beat. Your heart did a treacherous flip, slamming against your ribcage, and you breathed out with a weak grin.
"Thank you, Tsumi-chan. Get better soon, okay?"
"Make sure she's well-rested. I think she should feel better before Monday. A lot of drinks," you nodded at the paper in Gojo's hand. "Watch the vomit too, and basically just keep an eye on her. If there's a sudden tummy ache, call an ambulance. And call me just in case."
"Sure will do," Gojo murmured tiredly, carefully folding your note and tucking it into his notebook. A sharp pang of something you weren't ready to name yet shot through your heart. Quietly watching Gojo's brows furrow in thought as he turned the pages of his planner — probably filled with dozens of meetings, visits and even dates — you muttered your goodbyes with a full intention to slip quietly out of that lovely home.
Only to be stopped by a warm hand on your elbow.
"Where are you going to? It's late. Ijichi will drive you home."
Your phone was already buzzing with dozens of irritated texts from Naoya, and the thought of him seeing you leave another man's car made your insides churn.
Waving, you huffed a chuckle, "Ah, it's nothing, I'll take a taxi, and it's late!"
"He will be there in five minutes." Gojo casually shrugged your words off, already on its way to hold a door for you. "Come on, I'll walk you out."
The gusts of wind under the veil of tranquil twilight didn't bite you as usual; perhaps, it was Gojo's warmth shielding you from its coldness. Standing right beside him as you waited outside, you couldn't help but reminisce that evening with the British lighter.
An airy chuckle cut through the serenity between you. Gojo tore his gaze away from the star-spilt sky above, and his gentle murmur caressed the expanse of your skin. Even though he was standing a foot apart.
"What are you thinking about?"
Your smile deepened, but you shook your head in response. "Nothing much."
"Hey. Don't go shy on me, Doctor-sensei."
Despite the coldness of the evening, your cheeks flared up. "Telling about me to your kids?"
A soft smile spread on his face as he chuckled.
"Couldn't help. You're really a nice doctor."
"Well, thank you then."
He basked in a response you gave him — a widened gaze, a pink tint to your cheeks, and a little smile — until you went silent again.
Gojo tilted his head in a silent question — the harsh wind threw his white bangs all over his forehead. He didn't make any effort to brush them away; instead, he kept looking at you as if you were the only star gracing the heavens above. Beautiful. Observing.
Mysterious.
"I don't have the lighter on me now."
Startled, you abruptly burned and blinked, your huff dissolving into a light laugh. "And I don't have any cigs."
Gojo's smile deepened almost imperceptibly. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his warmth enveloping you tighter in its embrace. Nervously, you tucked the lone hair strand behind your ear. Glanced at the sky above, glimmering indifferently.
"Tsumiki likes stars, doesn't she? A whole map and a telescope in her room?" You murmured absent-mindedly, eyes lazily wandering from one celestial body to another.
Naoya didn't like stargazing.
"Ah, yes. A little scientist. She dreams about space and visiting some planets." At the mention of his niece, Gojo's gaze turned melancholic, albeit full of tenderness. "She's a nice girl. Kind and gentle."
At the sudden pensiveness, colouring his voice, you turned around. The wind threw your hair into your face, but you chose not to see anything but Gojo. Your voice came surprisingly steady.
"And you are a nice uncle. When I said to Megumi that you took good care of them, I didn't joke."
Your words clearly stunned Gojo; his eyes widened, and the dark blue of them shone so brightly under the lamplight that you let yourself drown in them all over again.
"You think so, Doc?"
Despite the lightness in his tone, you picked up the strained edge, the hesitance, and something weirdly resembling hope.
His hand twitched a little as you stepped closer and let your fingers tentatively brush against his. Gojo went still, and your quiet yet sure words nearly undid him.
"I know, Gojo."
His chest expanded with a sharp exhale. There was no way he could contain the overwhelming fullness in his chest that came with your presence. And as the honk of Ijichi's car erupted through the silence, he finally managed to find his words again.
"Thank you for coming. I… really appreciate that."
You just shook your head with a warm smile you wore so often. A strange gleam flashed in your gaze.
"No worries. I am glad to help."
For some reason, he couldn't tear his gaze away, and just watched the lonebeam caressing your features in a way he longed to.
The black car finally stopped in front of you. Gojo stepped to open the door for you and murmured.
"Good night. See you soon, right?"
"Right. Bye, Gojo."
And seeing the car slowly disappearing into the dark, Gojo let out a breath, carding his fingers through the hair as the realisation that had been hovering over him like a sword of Damocles finally hit him.
He was so fucked.
ੈ✩‧₊˚
The clock in your office almost struck two, marking your possible fifteen minutes for a break, but you were focused on a baby on the examination table. Softly pressing on the belly, you checked for any enlarged organs, only to give the parents an assuring nod.
"No signs of a hernia as well."
Your light tickles earned soft gurgles from the kid, and you couldn't help but lean down and coo, "Aw, you're such a little talker tonight, aren't you? Looking so happy out here."
The baby babbled something again, flailing their pudgy arms, and gave you a little grin. Your hands softly brushed over the kid's legs to move them over.
"No problems with hip joints! Your baby is completely healthy." A relaxed smile made its way on your face as well, seeing the little girl's parents breathe out in relief.
"Doctor-sensei, we were thinking about introducing Kiki-chan to solid foods," Kiki-chan's mother squirmed in her seat, while her father attempted to put a pacifier in her mouth. The baby protested with a huff.
Humming under your breath, you went through the baby's medical record. "Honestly, it's better you wait a little. I will give you proper recommendations when the time comes. It's usually around 6 months. Meanwhile, remember to have the vitamin D supplement I was talking about."
"Ah, yes. I wanted to ask if 400 IU daily is alright?" Ito-san's voice sounded a bit strained, as Kiki-chan curiously attempted to tug on her mom's hair.
"Totally fine."
Shortly after answering a couple of questions more and reminding the parents to call you in case something suspicious arises, you bid your goodbyes to the family.
Exhausted, you massaged your temples and decided to take a quick nap before a meeting, only to be interrupted by the knock. No urgency, though. No hesitation.
Frowning, you called out to come in, already straightening in your seat. Might've been another emergency, since you didn't have anything more scheduled before the endless Yaga's droning.
The door opened, revealing the emergency himself. The emergency bore a smile, able to disperse any signs of an impending grimness; his hair flashed bright white under the light, and the blue of his gaze pulled you into its ripples just like the day that emergency walked into your life.
Your heart slammed against your ribs, pulse roared in your temples with deafening force, as you stared back at Gojo. Megumi had been charged some time ago, but the lie would've tasted sour if you said Gojo didn't cross your mind. Maybe something happened to Tsumiki?
Sometimes, when the evenings pinned you down with their weight of loneliness, as you stared at Naoya's back blanky, the memories flushed in your mind. You kept every smile, every glance, every bruf of fingers and every word close to your heart, akin to the precious gems.
Then, as Naoya's lips would press a claim on your skin and his fingertips would burn another into your soul, you pulled them out with the utmost care.
Somehow managing to compose yourself, you forced a grin that Gojo would find a pleasant one, at least, "Hi! What are you doing here? Oh, have a seat, would you?"
Gojo's grin deepened, and he sank into the chair in front of you.
"Long time no see, Doc. No-no, everything is okay with kids, don't worry," he hastily added, seeing concern immediately taking over your face.
"Oh." You blinked in surprise. Cleared your throat. Tried not to look as nosy as you felt. Twiddled with a kitten figurine on your table. Finally breathed out.
"Not to be rude or anything, but…what are you doing here then?"
His white brows knitted together as he managed to huff a chuckle. It slowly died under your inquiring gaze.
"You don't know?"
Briefly closing your eyes at the sense of migraine slowly crawling back to make your life even more miserable, you murmured, "Know what?"
The bright grin on Gojo's face wavered, but his voice came out surprisingly soft. As if he were trying to soothe you by the mere tone alone.
"I am on the board of shareholders now. I thought you might've known by now. But it's even better! I am telling you myself."
Brows flying to your hairline in surprise, you breathed out a quiet, shocked chuckle. The gentle sun — as bright as Gojo's radiant grin — warmed your soul in hesitant rays of fondness.
"Really? That's so great! I didn't even hear —"
Naoya didn't bother to mention it to you.
Your smile slowly vanished as the clouds of despair slowly fogged that very sun.
Gojo, who had already helped himself to a candy, suddenly looked up. "Didn't even hear…?"
If you were a lot more braver, you wouldn't let hesitance shake you to the very core. Expose you for who you truly were.
A dove. A naive, frightened dove.
The knife of Naoya's disdainful whisper slowly twisted between your ribs once again, leaving the droplets of something that used to be your affection spilling in crimson paths of sorrow and ache.
"Doc? You good?"
You would've told Gojo everything.
Instead, you gave him a jarred grin.
"Doesn't matter. So, what's the thing for you here?"
His gaze narrowed suspiciously, but he decided not to press further.
"I thought it was a good opportunity. Non-profit management, something like that. You took good care of Megumi, and I was already thinking about," his gaze swept across your room, pausing at the sweets, the examination table, the posters on the walls and the box with toys. The very same you fished Megumi's plushie from. "Contributing to society, all that jazz."
Something in his deliberately light tone told you that you weren't the one to have secrets. With a curious hum, you leaned over, tapping on your chin in mock thoughtfulness.
"Weren't you the one saying that you didn't like meetings and everything?"
Gojo paused, his eyes briefly flicking to your face to gauge your reaction; he saw none, besides an intrigue, dancing in your gaze.
Oh. That was how you wanted to play, huh?
He slowly mirrored your grin, lazily tilting his head. "I am okay if that's for the good."
"It's for the good, then?"
His smile widened, giving you a good look at his dimples.
Giving Gojo the last suspicious glance, you leaned back.
He cleared his throat.
"So, if you have something to say or ask for... you can tell me. Within reasonable limits, of course."
"I'll keep it in mind."
Your pager beeped loudly again, putting your conversation to a halt. With a heavy sigh, you hid it and rose from your seat.
"Did something happen?" Gojo inquired with the same curious, albeit soft gaze that had been silently caressing you the entire conversation.
Stifling a sigh and your urge to ditch the whole thing, you admitted begrudgingly, "No, not at all. Just the department's meeting."
"Oh," he hummed incredulously, but his gaze was still firmly set on you. You decided to get through your notes just not to feel its weight. It never failed to send shivers down your spine.
"You've already met Yaga-san, the department's director, I suppose?"
An attempt to briefly switch the topic and the nervous tone didn't go unnoticed by Gojo.
As well as the slightest twitch of your fingers, when you meticulously tucked all the notes into one neat pile.
"Yeah. He's...an interesting guy. I would say more like a businessman type. Talks about the financing and the sponsor's attraction."
Gojo's words earned an airy chuckle from you.
"Oh, he can talk about it day and night, I swear."
"That he can," he agreed, shaking his head with a small laugh. "Still, I think he cares about all of you. The finances topic is surely one of the hottest on the board meeting."
"That's why I am not really sure why you decided to join it — ah, shit!"
One clumsy turn and a misguided step — god, sometimes Naoya was right: you really felt like having two left feet — and the carefully arranged notes went scattered on your floor like birds trying to escape.
"Damn, I am so clumsy." Kneeling immediately, you murmured under your breath and stilled, feeling Gojo's finger brush gingerly against yours as he handed you one of the vaccination reports. The time completely paused around you: the thick, heavy substance enveloping both of you.
The world closed in on the blue in his eyes. Spilt heavens, simmering waves of an ocean, June sky, when the world's radiance blinded with its brightness, merged into the tint that dulled every other colour for you. Took you to another world, even just for a fleeting moment.
"Oh, look at that. Is that...wait, is that yours?"
Your head immediately snapped towards Gojo, and you saw him holding that small, pathetic makeshift portfolio — the one you probably pulled out just to throw away, but the thought slipped away from your tired mind just like usual.
The heat of humiliation, mixed with embarrassment, exploded within you in a painful red. Helplessly blinking, you forced a pathetic chuckle.
"Oh, that? No, it's — "
And then why did you carry that binder around, huh? Think, think, think!
Your mind desperately scrambled for a plausible explanation, but after some debating, you surrendered to his gaze.
"Yes. These are mine. It's nothing special, though. Some lazy, stupid doodles."
Gojo frowned instantly at the belittlement curling in your voice like a berated animal. He slowly rose to his height and murmured in bewilderment.
"You're joking, right?"
You blinked. Blinked again. Didn't think of anything better than to stare at Gojo as you had seen him for the first time. Stare at him carefully going through the binder. Stare at the light wrinkle between his brows, knitted in concentration. Stare at his lips until they parted and uttered the words that knocked all the air from your lungs.
"These are wonderful!"
The pager beeped again to remind you about the upcoming meeting, but all your being shrinked to the little folder in Gojo's hands.
Naoya's words about wasting your time immediately flared up, and you straightened as well to make a grab for the photos.
"It's nothing special. Really. Just a bunch of stuff."
Gojo dragged his shocked gaze from the portfolio back to you and let you have the damn binder. You would throw it away the first thing after the meeting.
To which, in fact, you should've hurried long ago.
"I have to go."
Gojo watched your figure moving around with the newly acquired urgency. As if you had been trying to shake any remnants of the intimacy that had just unfolded around you.
His eyes searched your face with a quiet, almost aching attention, until he finally muttered.
"Did I say something wrong?"
No.
No.
Don't say that.
Don't do that to me.
A cruel beast crawled up your veins to clutch your insides in a freezing grip, while fear and regret trapped your lone heartbeat.
Gojo didn't say anything, instead letting his eyes talk, but you were too occupied with your own thoughts to hear him.
Eventually, he stepped back with a quiet sigh, and the thinly veiled frustration in his voice caused your heart to sink.
"I am sorry. I didn't mean to go overboard in any way. I'll leave you alone."
The sight of Gojo's broad shoulders slumped in the slightest bitterness cracked something in your chest.
The pager went off again with a loud beep.
"I really have to go."
Gojo only gave you a curt nod, and all the time you were closing your office, you felt the weight of his gaze pinning you down.
A hundred words rested just on the tip of your tongue. Instead, you settled on a quiet, hesitant apology, gently grazing his elbow.
"I am sorry. It's not this. You haven't done anything wrong."
He turned almost immediately at your words, but as much as he wanted to ask more — so, so much more than you were ready to offer — he stilled. And prompted gently.
"Then what is it?"
You sucked in a sharp exhale, just to —
"Dove? There you are!"
For the reason to appear himself.
The look of pure panic on your face the second the voice reached you made Gojo frown. Then your frightened gaze flicked to him.
The crowd around you parted slightly, revealing a man. Gojo caught a couple of fond gazes shared between the nurses, but that couldn't bother him less.
The immediate self-conscious curve of your shoulders, paired with the stiffness of your moves, when the guy pulled you closer without any words, concerned Gojo way more.
"Dove. What did I say about answering my calls? I don't want to look around for you all over the hospital. I am way too busy for this."
The arrogant, disdainful voice of that prick immediately grated on Gojo's nerves. The tone was not suitable even for berating a pet, let alone talking to a human being. Someone supposedly beloved.
Gojo's jaw tightened. He was about to step in when you swiftly interjected with a grin too wide to be sincere. Your hand on the man's arm didn't promise any good.
The guy turned to Gojo's side and stilled for a moment, quirking a brow.
"Darling," your tone sounded so weird, Gojo barely recognised it — something like the plea to an executioner to give you the last glimpses of freedom. "This is Gojo Satoru. He's on the board of the shareholders as well."
The prick slowly tilted his head, dragging his gaze over Gojo in silent yet sharp examination. Then a weird gleam flushed in his eyes as they slightly widened in recognition.
That scowl and barely masked derision on his face had stirred something distant in Gojo's memory, but the whole image remained blurry. Until you introduced him as well, piercing all the pieces.
"This is Zenin Naoya. My..."
Naoya didn't appreciate your pause and flashed an arrogant smirk.
"Her fiancé."
Zenin.
Right. Of course.
The surname that was such a frequent guest at all the gatherings Gojo used to attend. He felt an immediate wave of repulsion towards that prick, but managed to mask it with a slightly narrowed gaze, simply out of respect for you.
Gojo heard a lot about the Zenins back then, when his piece carried some value in his parents' game. Even now, some rumours still managed to reach him, despite all the efforts.
If any of them were true about the young Zenin heir…
Fiancé.
Gods. He put all the details — your empty stares, self-deprecating jokes, occasional flinches, even the earlier reaction to his compliment to your drawing — with terrifying clarity.
Puzzles finally slotted into the frame that your fiancé forced you into. Everything made sense now.
Quickly closing his eyes to compose himself, Gojo immediately opened them, forced by the hesitance in your tone.
"You should've met at the board's meeting, I suppose," your gaze flickered nervously between Gojo and Naoya in an attempt to quickly assess the surroundings. The air was growing thicker with each passing second: the whispers around rose in frequency, while Gojo's gaze narrowed even more deadly, and Naoya's smirk turned maliciously sharper.
The muscle in Gojo's jaw tightened.
"It's always a great opportunity to meet another member of the respected clan," Naoya tilted his head just a tad, but the harsh look in his eyes didn't melt even for a second. "Even though he somehow busied my little dove so much, she forgot to check her phone, huh?"
The scene he would certainly cause you later flashed before your eyes. You managed to offer some apologetic murmur before Naoya cut you off with a single word.
"Quiet."
Wordlessly, you dropped your gaze. One word shaped you into a person so meek that you barely resembled the woman Gojo slowly came to know.
His blood boiled at the sight, but the look he gave Naoya was enough to freeze hell.
"Can't say the same, Zenin."
Naoya stilled. His smirk slowly wavered, but then a low, amused chuckle left him, followed by the words dipped in poison.
"Oh? I suppose other respected clans didn't care about teaching their heirs proper manners, did they, Satoru-kun?"
The crowd around went completely silent, as if someone stole their voices. Even the sounds of pagers and rhythmic taps on the keyboard quietened. A few glares landed on you, and you could already hear your colleagues clicking their tongues in annoyance.
Again, never directed at Naoya.
Nothing changed in Gojo's face as he simply raised his chin and drawled with an infuriating smirk, "Have you learnt any before talking to your future wife, huh?"
Your head snapped immediately at the sound of his voice. Your lips parted to force some excuse.
You had none.
As well as Naoya.
His cheeks paled in an instant, but the tips of his ears blushed pink. No wonder — another humiliation from a man, let alone a man, defending you.
That act of disgrace Naoya couldn't bear.
Seething inside, he surprisingly gently tugged you closer and whispered, "We'll talk about it later, sweetheart."
As Gojo watched your figures retreat, he caught the wide-eyed gaze you sent him over your shoulder, full of so much remorse, that it twisted something violently in his chest.
