Nanami constantly pounding you through the mattress so good that you have to see a doctor every few weeks- and the hot, stern doctor asking you whether he should teach you how to do it real slow in front of your husband. So that you can pick which one you like - Dr. Zayne’s slow n’ steady or Nanami Kento’s rough.
Satoru asked, voice slightly shaky as he sat on the makeshift barbers setup you, Shoko and Suguru had made for this occasion specifically.
"Yikes." You heard shoko mutter, just before the flash of a photo being taken came from her flip phone.
"What's that supposed to mean?!?" Satoru's voice rose, back straightening just a bit more but not moving away from his spot. All the while you stood behind him, staring at your handiwork. "Hey?? Answer me!!"
You could hear Suguru nearly knock a vase to the floor as he's stifling in his laughter. Poorly, may I add.
"Damn, I messed up," You dropped the pair of the scissors to the side, grabbing the razor and clicking it on. "We gotta go bald."
You sighed in acceptance as Shoko and Suguru had moved to restrain a now-screaming Satoru in the chair with maximum effort. All the while giggling like idiots.
It was your mistake, but it had to be done. It was for the best. Even if Gojo was screaming bloody murder at you.
𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐃 ✧ growing up as childhood friends, you and Satoru Gojo share a deep bond that only strengthens as you both mature. Now, as your personal knight and protector, Satoru's feelings for you become harder to hide.
contains. guardian! gojo satoru x princess! reader, sexual themes, violence, taboo relationships, angst, childhood friends, arranged marriages, jealousy/possessiveness, religious themes, sexual tension
♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: a nurse finds a man visiting you, her unidentified coma patient. It’s your husband, Satoru Gojo.
♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ only. heavy angst, mentions of death, injury, hospitalization & thoughts of suicide. brief smut mention.
♡ — 𝐀/𝐍: I was bored last night, eating pasta, and decided to write this because why not (: dividers by @/firefly-graphics!
The young nurse was around thirty exhausting minutes into her twelve-hour night shift when a figure sitting beside her coma patient caught her attention.
She glanced up from her medical binder and peered through the interior window of your hospital room, her head tilting questioningly at the sight of the white-haired man she hadn’t recognized.
“Is a stranger bothering my patient? Should I call for security? How did he get into her room without anyone noticing in the first place?”
Those were the questions that circulated throughout her mind when she swung your door open.
With a frown, the young woman asked, “Excuse me, can I help you, sir?”
The man didn’t answer — his soft sniffles filled the silence.
Softly, he stroked your cheek, his fingertips gracing the straps that secured the intubation tube down your throat; the tube that was breathing for you.
His other hand was draped across the pages of an open book lying beside your leg. A few wet splats from fallen tears soaked the inked paper.
“Was he reading to her?” The nurse thought, clenching the door handle.
“Sir?” She called out yet again. “Are you able to help us identify this patient? She’s a Jane Doe. Any information would be-“
“She’s my wife.”
The nurse’s eyes widened, and those wide eyes darted down to the wedding ring on the man’s finger.
“O-Oh, okay.”
“Her name’s Y/N,” the miserable man looked over at the nurse for the first time since she stepped into your room. “I was just reading her the rest of her book. She wasn’t finished with it, and I don’t know if she’ll . . .”
The man’s body trembled a bit. A noise escaped him, seemingly a combination of a sob, hiccup, and a sigh — it was the sound of heartbreak, a sound that drowned out the repetitive, dire beeping from the machines attached to the countless amount of tubes going in and out of your wounded body.
“But, um, her name’s F/N Gojo. She’s my wife. She’s my . . .” One hand gripped yours, while the other ran across his teary, bloodshot eyes. “Has anyone been talking to her? She gets lonely easily, and I don’t think she has enough blankets, she could be cold.”
“Yes, I’ve been talking to her, sir. Everyday.” The nurse smiled sadly. She had gotten used to witnessing tragedy. It was as normal to her as brushing her teeth in the morning. Even so, see the man’s guilt-ridden face prickled at her heart. “Unfortunately, too many blankets could make it more difficult to treat her if something goes wrong. They could get in our way if we need to get to her quickly during an emergency, but, um, maybe an extra one wouldn’t hurt. Um . . . I have quite a bit of paperwork for you to fill out, I’ll be right back. Can I bring you anything? A cup of coffee? Tea?”
The man wiped a tear away from his reddened waterline, though it was pointless, as his pale cheeks were wet enough already. He slumped back in his chair, ran a trembling hand through his messy head of white hair, and returned his gaze to you, away from the rambling nurse.
“I don’t deserve a damn thing,” he mumbled. “This is my fault. I was on a work trip. If I was at home, we would have had dinner together. In the kitchen. I would’ve cooked. But I wasn’t home, so she went to get her own food. She was turning into a drive-thru, right? When another car slammed into hers, right?”
The nurse gave a little nod.
“She was in a coma for two days and I had no idea. I wasn’t here. It’s all my fault. I left her alone,” Satoru bit the inside of his cheek, thinking about the obstacles he had to face just to be by your side right now.
He was on his way home around 24 hours after you stopped responding to his messages and calls. Screw his work trip; you were his only priority. During that time, he had to deal with shitty cell service and horrific weather delaying flights for hours to days. Even now, his days-old attire was covered in rain droplets.
“I’ll be right back, Mr. Gojo. And I’ll go fetch her doctor for you. He can tell you more about your wife’s condition.”
The man didn’t bother speaking or nodding. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t have bothered with breathing, either.
Why should he? You couldn’t breathe. You had machines doing it for you. And he blamed himself. He always would.
He gently stroked the skin of your hand.
“Baby?” Satoru said softly once the nurse left your room. “I’m gonna keep reading. I know how much you wanna get to the ending. But I just wanted to say that I wish this happened to me instead. It should’ve been me, not you.”
He wanted to speak more, but grief had formed a lump in his throat that made it too difficult to vocalize how much he needed you. Tragedy had taken his voice away from him.
Those glistening eyes of his glanced up at your bandaged face, and he couldn’t help but picture it; you, his sweet wife, driving to a local restaurant, perhaps while listening to your favorite songs on the radio. All it took was one incorrect turn from another driver. One wrong turn flipped your car.
One wrong turn resulted in devastation.
One wrong turn.
Next, your beloved husband pictured the happy memories shared between you both. Eating ice cream on the couch while watching a Netflix show together. Making pancakes from scratch on Saturday mornings, turning the kitchen into a mess of batter and dirty dishes. Laughing together over the memory of Satoru asking you to marry him during your first time together, three months into your relationship. He blamed his embarrassing ramblings entirely on the sheer pleasure of getting to fuck you. It made him delirious, so he said.
And, god — he couldn’t help but think about your laugh. He loved it more than anything. Satoru was smiling sadly as he thought about you laughing over a silly kitchen mishap that nearly led to a grease fire last year when suddenly, the alarming machines surrounding you started to beep rapidly.
A staff of medical workers rushed in, and Satoru was rushed out — or, at least, they tried to force him out of your room as they reclined your bed and attempted to perform a medical miracle on your comatose body, but he wouldn’t budge.
He couldn’t.
He would never leave your side again, he made you that promise, and there he was, right by your bedside when the defeated doctors pulled away from your lifeless body.
“Time of death, twenty-thirty-two,” a man said somberly.
And Satoru didn’t break down. He didn’t cry, not yet. He hadn’t realized that his legs seemed to have a mind of their own, that his body was guiding him out of your room and down the depressing, illuminated hallways of the hospital. The only thing on his mind was the fact that the hospital accepted patients via helicopter, which meant he could gain roof access.
Satoru stepped into an empty elevator. His finger pressed a button: the highest floor.
A floor accessible only to employees with ID, or, in his case, grieving family members who stole dangling badges from distracted doctors attempting to revive you.
He hadn’t figured it all out yet. Not the logistics of it. After all, concerned medical staff with their eyes narrowed and voices brimming with concern were already trying to follow him and see what he was up to.
But Satoru knew one thing for certain: he’d see you soon.
warnings: MAJOR SPOILER WARNING, SPOILERS FOR SHIBUYA INCIDENT ARC AND MANGA, Chapter 236, mentions of pregnancy(literally one word), FEM!Reader, Wife reader — NOT PROOFREAD
(I didnt put an exact warning because it would literallt give away what happened)
Pairing: Husband!GojoxWife!Reader
desc: You meet with Gojo after two long months
He doesn't remember much, just a blink and he was back as his high school self. A female, hand on her hip, a curious expression written all over her face. Staring at him, she tilted her head. “Satoru? What are you doing here?”
Satoru Gojo wants to laugh, like this was all some cruel joke.
Here you were, in front of him after not having seen your face(though younger) in almost 2 months since the incident in Shibuya— where you died.
He partially blamed himself. He watched you during your last moments, and selfishly, he’s grateful he didn’t actually see your death. His wife, his one and only. He smiles, and laughes as he pulls you in by your waist into a hug. “My boy did so good,” you whisper, allowing him to dig his head further into your torso as you giggle, your own fingers curling in his hair.
You smell exactly the same, like home. A home he never got to give you.
After he’s done being whiny, and well, a child, he pouts, throwing his head back.
“Aw man this is awful!” He shouts, and you laugh. The person he doesn't realize sitting beside him speaks up.
Suguru. His best friend, the one he had to kill, the one that would keep him up at night. The one that—
“Guess you were wrong.” you giggle, and Suguru stares at the two of you like you were keeping a secret joke from him.
You point at him mischievously, “He was all like, when you die you die alone, to his students, but look at the reality of it— well not really reality but still!”
He whines, “(Y/N)!!!”
Suguru breaks the ice, “How was the king of curses?”
Satoru huffs, shaking his head with a half hearted grin. He nods his head so the side, the empty seat beside him— which you take, his hand taking yours while you sit
It’s cold, just like his.
The tip of his nose hits the back of your palm, his eyes are closed before opening halflidded, staring out into the floor. His eyes peer over the overly tinted glasses, responding, “That guy was too damn strong, and he wasn’t even trying.”
It was almost mumbled, like a child complaining. Still holding your hand, he looks at Suguru, “To be completely honest, I don’t think I would even be able win.. regardless if he had Megumi’s cursed technique or not. The guy had too much up his sleeve.”
Your free hand pats his arm, laughing loudly you shake him lightly with a coo, “It’s alright, you’re my loser anyways baby,” you say with pressed eyebrows and puckered lips, almost teasingly.
He rolls his eyes, biting your hand lightly.
“I gave everything I had. Just a little sad you guys weren't there to support me, maybe you would’ve been able to give me a slap on the back to motivate me,” He jokes, shaking his head with closed eyes, imagining Suguru and yourself in the crowd of students.
“I’m glad that he was the one to kill me.” He confessed.
Somebody stronger than me. He wanted to say.
“It’s kind of gross hearing that from you, Gojo. You sound like a samurai general.”
You’re laugher bubbles up from your throat, tears forming as you turn back feom your seat.
“Kento, you’ll never change, will you?” You laugh, watching Satoru smack Nanami on the head multiple times, ruffling his hair in the process. You get up, releasing Satoru’s hand to sit in the seat besides Nanami. Smiling as the seat behind you is now empty.
Shoko.
It was for her, she was the last of the group, and you hope she wouldn't be here for a while.
“I won’t justify him, but I’ll sympathize with you.. I guess..” he mumbles, causing you to slap him on the shoulder with no ill intent, laughter from his stoicness.
“Hey!” Satoru snaps back, and you reach over and pinch his cheek.
“What I’m trying to say is, it was a fitting way to go out, Gojo.”
“You should be morw polite to your Juniors.” You chastise Satoru.
“I was already nice enough to you!” He retorts, and you tilt your head with a smile. His hand takes yours that was clipped to his cheek back in his,
“What was it like for you guys in your last moments?”
You blink, looking around the room.
“It was kind of scary,” you start, and he clenches your hand slightly. He remembers how the two of you split, you pecked him on the cheek with a determined expression, clenching your fist you told him you would be back, before warping to Harajuku. It was the last time he woult see you conscious.
You had crossed paths with Mahito, and you had it under control, until you didn't. Your weak nature, strong virtue, Satoru told you these would get in the way of you becoming a sorcerer, but you would always brush him off, telling him, I’m fine.
But you couldn’t help it, seeing a small girl in the line of Mahito’s path of destruction. Your arm was the price to pay for her life.
And, maybe you had lost too much blood, you cant remember, it’s a blur, but Satoru remembers.
Your leg contorted in a way he coulf only asume was unfoxable, your arm missing, eye streaming blood, you were dead. But his six eyes said you were alive, that you both were. And he was hopeless, tued up by the prisom realm, watching your eyes dim, he watched you die.
“To be honest, I wanted to quit with Kento, but I just couldn't bring myself to leave you alone doing all this. I don’t regret it to the end,” you smile loving at him, and he feels like vomiting.
“I would do this a thousand times over if I got to be with you every time.” You tell him sweetly, and Nanami coughs, “Enough with the sappy shit.” He grumbles.
You laugh again, and stare at Suguru. He looks back at you, and you feel your lips curling back up into a brighter smile. The man who defected, the man who left you all, he was here, and with you all.
“Once,” all attention back to Nanami. “When I was discussing with Mei-san about where I should move, she told me to move North to become someone new, and to move south to stay the person you are. Naturally, I chose South. I think it’s ironic how I died while betting on my future. But it wasn’t too bad because of Haibara.”
Haibara grins, “Aw! You’re too kind!”
“I see..” Satoru says, and you squeeze his hand back. His head snaps upward, looking right in front of him to Yaga, his voice as annoying as ever, “Yo Yaga! I thought you said no sorcerer dies without regrets!”
You laugh, and he laughs back, the room filled with laughter, Riko, Kuroi, Kento and Yu, Suguru, even Yaga.
“Now I’m hoping this isn’t a dream.” He confesses, while standing up, and you smile.
“It’s not, ya big loser!”
You shout, standing up from your chair and throwing yourself over it, crushing him. He falls back onto the ground, and Suguru jumps on top of you, Yu crushing him as Satoru wheezes, and you see him smirk.
“Welcome back!” You grin, Suguru’s face smushed next to your own. Haibara’s chin resting in between the two of yours.
He takes in the scene in front of him, everybody he’s loved all together, and finally, his arms wrap around the three of you, and he’s just so happy, that he doesn’t even Think about going back.
CLEAR MINDSET THIS IS MY REALITY NO ONE TELLS ME OTHERWISE SHUSH
the whole vibrator shaming and hysteria over ‘lowering women’s sensitivity’ thing going on right now is quite literally just an extremely transparent way of controlling women’s sexuality by controlling their pleasure. you would think people would be more worried about the early erectile dysfunction trend seen in men coinciding with rising porn consumption but at the end of the day this is about controlling women as almost everything else is. what use is a woman’s pleasure if it isn’t about a man’s first and foremost
Ghost, who is actually so hung he can't fuck you with his entire dick no matter how much he preps you beforehand- so he's got you on your back with your legs spread wide, him standing before you. Presses his hips forward, cock gliding against your clit with ease until his hips are flush with yours, his tip leaking pre on your belly.
"Look'a how deep I'd go, bunny. Too much for you, precious."
Of course, as always, once you're this cockdrunk and desperate you're confident you can take it all. You want to, want to be the first one to take all of him. The afterglow of him confessing you're the first person he's been with that could take as much as you already have still burns inside you.
Ghost tuts, clicking his tongue at how you roll your hips. Admires you whining beneath him, finding your own pace grinding against him.
"Could break you, so many ways. You'd let me, wouldn't you?"
Your eyelashes flutter shut as words fail you, his hips jerking and interrupting your rhythm. You can only nod instead of answer, grinning dumbly as you hear him chuckle darkly. When he gives a low, heady groan, you know it's time. You draw your hips as far up as you can, his tip catching in your hole. One of his hands grips your hip tightly, so hard it stings.
It's ridiculous how sensitive he is, especially the deeper he goes. It's like your tight, wet heat is him sinking into his own little slice of heaven. He's babbling something to you, some sweet nothings growled into your ear as he watches himself disappear into you, but you're too busy on keeping it together.
He stops midway. You aren't having it. He's stronger than you, thinks he knows better than you, so it should be his way or the highway- but when you push yourself deeper on him-- downright spearing yourself on the monstrous thing, he's seeing stars. Goes entirely rigid surrounded by you, fighting off an orgasm threatening to spill over before anything ever began.
You're never able to get him to the root, it couldn't be physically possible for you, nor any other human. Never stopped you from trying, and he always appreciated that stubbornness in you.