Arrogant bastard by the day, and a bitch by night.
The amusing passage you liked to watch, more than the sun's setting and rising.
A very unsuspecting trait of yours, hidden deep inside your polite layers.
Something cruel in nature.
A cutting imagination, drawn by the cold, cold desire.
Ever since your ripe youth, a fascination towards contrasting figures had grown within you.
The more tall and large, the man.
The more beloved his tearful face, in your eyes.
The more uptight and pretentious, the man.
The more enthralling his fearful breath, to your ears.
The more demanding and loud, the man.
The more appetizing his frail whimpers.
Like an ambitious woodcutter, aiming for the most tallest trees, the desire to strike an axe, only on those, sturdy and proud. The crashing sound of the tree's fall, a harmonic euphoria to your ears.
So you seeked, arrogant bastards, all by the day. Wishing they would be, a bitch by night.
If not, a trial or two, to have them convert into one.
A pure persuading rhythm of yours, that compels the most prideful, to fall on their back and bare open their bellies.
Sadism, you thought not of it.
It was to you, like a mundane liking, like the ones who loved to intertwine their tongues with another, or like the ones who loved getting their throats clogged by the pressure of palms.
It was as mundane as that.
The liking towards seeing a grown man, fully engulfed by the prideful shell of an adult, break down and cry, tears of pleasure and pain.
The humiliated redness, spread across their rough features, the delicate shy placements of a blooming blush, in a face, harsh and wild.
Unsuited, yet breathtakingly fascinating.
You always had a funny humor, and an interest in things odd and weird.
Like pink tutus on a hairy man, a forbidden garment peeking out of a religiously pressed shirt, a coral shade smeared on a roughly chapped lips, a frail bow wrapped around a bulky neck, sharp heels trapping a toned feet, lacy thin frills failing to hold a bulge in place, unfit and unsuited.
Things that one can never see themselves doing. Things that one can never allow themselves to like.
Such things, lived in your appetite.
But there are many men, arrogant yet bitchlike in demeanor.
With not an ounce of masculinty, the pure energy that resists such humiliation at the hands of a woman.
Many lacked such force, whose repulsion to what you liked, stirred in you pleasure and intrigue.
A man coddling to his mother, yet acting like the wicked man in charge. A failure of a man with no sturdy ethics and claims.
These arrogance holders, being the exception to your seek.
The ones who are truly repulsed by the thought of a woman caressing their bottoms.
The ones who are truly anguished by the mentions of anything other than their internal stool passing by the doors on their back.
The ones whose pride never will allow themselves to be held by a frail woman.
The ones who never suspect their dominance, the ones who never doubt their lead.
Such men, you seeked.
To have a high and mighty tree, like an old and ancient oak, filled with pride.
To have your axe, butcher its trunk.
The pleasurable sight of a giant tree falling.
Inevitably to the ground.
Such you seeked.
Such you desired.
You twisted little fiend.
Men colored red by humiliation.
Men colored pink by defiance.
Men colored pale by fear.
Men colored blue by force.
Men colored green by panic.
Men, men, men.
All such pretty criers.
If you could make one, a bouquet of buds would bloom open, on the grounds of your pelvis.
That is, if you can find one.
Giant and domineering, giddy about their gender, proud about their roles, arrogant by the day, and a pretty crying bitch by the night.
2. 'I didn't account for the rotation of the planet and how that affects the constalations while my characters stargazed at different times of year, I have failed as a writer, and this entire thing is trash'
i like the phrases "it's not for me," "it's not my thing," and "i'm not the target audience" because they're the most concise way to express "this thing that you enjoy has merits but idgaf about it" without being aggressive
༘⋆ Before you begin, take a moment to center yourself and reflect on your current journey. Trust that the universe has a plan for you, and the messages you receive today are here to help guide you towards your next steps. Pick an image whose energy you're drawn to the most. ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────
✧ Pile One
🧿 What the Cards Say: The Hanged Man · Four of Pentacles
✨ The thought that bruised you — The Hanged Man says, "You're stuck. You're wasting time. You should be further ahead. Everyone else is moving forward but you…"
✨ How your inner child responds — Four of Pentacles says, "I’m holding on because I’m scared, not because I’m lazy. Can’t you see that? I’m protecting what I have, because so much was taken before."
This thought criticizes your stillness, but your inner child speaks in trembling honesty: your inner child is holding on purely out of safety. The Hanged Man shows the pause; the Four of Pentacles, the grip. Both are here because something once felt out of control. Your inner child says, "Please don’t confuse fear with failure. I need to feel safe before I can move again." You are not behind. You are exactly where you are meant to be. This pause is not the end. It’s the breath before the leap.
🧿 What the Cards Say: The Star · The Tower (Reversed)
✨ The thought that bruised you — The Star says, "You’re dreaming too big. You’re unrealistic. Why do you always think you’re special? You’re not meant for that dream."
✨ How your inner child responds — The Tower (Reversed) says, "Because I had to believe in something after everything crashed. I dreamed because the world crumbled. I needed something to believe in. Hope saved me."
Hope can feel foolish when the world has taught you to lower your expectations again and again. But your heart has never stopped believing. Your inner child says that dreaming was never a flaw. It was medicine. The Tower reversed shows rebuilding, and maybe terrified of more collapse. But The Star reminds us hope was the only light you had. You're not naïve, actually you are resilient. Your belief in beauty saved you when the world felt brutal. Your dream isn’t silly. It’s sacred. And it’s closer than you think.
✨ The thought that bruised you — Ace of Swords says, " You think too much. You overthink everything. You’re too intense. Just let it go already. You always need to figure everything out."
✨ How your inner child responds — The World says, "But this is how I make sense of what hurt me. I’m not overthinking. I’m trying to understand why it all hurt so much. I need to make sense of it."
Your mind is sharp, and sometimes it hurts to carry that blade. But it’s also your gift, your mirror, your map, your compass. This voice you need to understand. But your inner child was left with puzzles and missing pieces, and the way to heal is to complete the picture. The World affirms that you’re seeking closure, not control. Here, a desire for clarity is a form of healing. The Ace of Swords is clarity but clarity can cut. And your inner child says, "I think a sharp mind is a gift, not a curse. Please don’t shame me for needing truth."
🧿 What the Cards Say: Nine of Swords · Ten of Wands
✨ The thought that bruised you — Nine of Swords says, "You’re too much. You’re always anxious, always overreacting. Get over it. You’re too sensitive. You make things harder than they need to be."
✨ How your inner child responds — Ten of Wands says, "Then why do I feel like I’ve been carrying the weight of everyone’s silence? Why do I carry so much that isn’t mine?"
This thought is cruel, blaming you for your own suffering. But your inner child fires back with the truth, this pain didn’t come from nowhere. Your inner child is carrying burdens, it can be generational, emotional, invisible. Your inner child didn’t ask for the heaviness, it was just picked up because no one else did. You don’t have to carry it all. Some of those burdens were never yours to hold. Now, there's a feeling of exhaustion. The Nine of Swords is a private hell; the Ten of Wands, a heavy one. Your inner child asks for acknowledgment: "If I’m overreacting, why do I feel like I’ve been holding up the sky?"
Which Childhood Wound Is Still Secretly Controlling Your Life (Your Inner Child Called — It’s Still a Psychopath, And It’s Holding Your Adult Self Hostage)
Pick 1, 2 or 3 from left to right
That childhood wound you’re so sure you left in the past? Yeah, surprise — it’s still driving the damn bus.
You strut around like you’re adulting like a pro, but behind the scenes, it’s quietly steering every move while you pretend not to notice.
Feel free to blame Mercury Retrograde, your horoscope, or whatever cosmic drama’s trending this week — but spoiler alert: it’s not the stars messing with you. It’s the stuff you never really dealt with, wrapped up in emotional duct tape and denial.
Keep rearranging your playlists, switching careers, or ghosting your feelings — just don’t be shocked when the same old childhood crap keeps crashing the party.
So, which wound’s got you on this wild ride? Bet it’s the one you shove to the back of your brain like your least favorite laundry pile.
💔 Card 1 :
The “If I’m Perfect, They’ll Love Me” Emotional Gymnastics Routine
Oh wow. You again.
The overfunctioning, over-apologizing, emotionally dehydrated golden child.
You learned love = performance. So now you're out here doing triple backflips of emotional labor for people who can’t even spell “reciprocity.”
Your inner child is standing on stage with perfect posture and a crumbling sense of self, hoping someone claps.
You weren’t praised, so now you seek validation from your boss’s passive-aggressive thumbs-up emoji.
What This Looks Like in Adulthood:
– Saying “no worries at all!!” when there are actually several worries. All at once. Loudly.
– Making your pain smaller so others feel comfortable
– Picking partners who see your effort and say “cool, but what else can you offer?”
The Universe Says:
You’re not here to win trophies for emotional suffering.
Stop treating love like it’s some competitive sport where you have to prove how messed up you are.
You don’t need a detailed presentation or an emotional highlight reel just to ask for a little help.
Sit down. Grab a snack. Speak up without the drama and without the endless justification.
Nobody’s handing out medals for suffering quietly, and pretending to be fine doesn’t make the pain go away.
🧨 CARD 2:
The “Too Much, So I’ll Be Nothing” Personality Collapse
Here lies your authentic self.
Buried under years of being told you were “too loud,” “too emotional,” “too intense,” or “too weird.”
So now you smile politely, drink your iced coffee like it's emotional sedation, and call it inner peace. (It’s not. It’s repression with oat milk.)
You’ve become a minimalist of your own identity.
Because if you’re chill, non-threatening, and aesthetically palatable — maybe no one will run.
How It’s Showing Up:
– Dating people who clearly hate themselves and hoping they love you
– Using humor to deflect any real emotion (see: that one joke you always make before you cry in the shower)
– Claiming you’re “low maintenance” while secretly thirsting for affection like a neglected cactus.
The Universe Says:
Emotional numbness isn’t your personality — it’s your defense mechanism on steroids, pumped full of denial and takeout.
You’re not a robot; you’re just running on emotional autopilot — stuffing your face and binge-watching trash to avoid feeling anything real.
Yeah, feelings suck — like stepping barefoot on a Lego — but pretending they don’t exist? That’s just emotional suicide in slow motion.
So quit flexing your numbness like it’s a badge of honor, rip off that anesthesia, and let your chaos wreck some shit already.
🫥 Card 3:
The “If I Disappear, I Won’t Be a Problem” Survival Trick
Aha. The Quiet One.
You were so good at not needing anything that people assumed you were fine.
You weren’t. You just learned to self-soothe by detaching from reality and becoming an emotional IKEA lamp: functional, silent, unassembled.
Now? You still vanish the moment intimacy knocks on your door.
Text message? Left on read. Someone asks, “How are you?” and you hit them with, “Haha, anyway—let’s talk about literally anything else before I have to feel.”
Signs You’re Still Haunting Yourself:
– Isolating “for peace” but actually you're just sad and afraid to be perceived
– Having so many walls up even your emotions need a visitor’s pass
– Feeling unappreciated but refusing to be visible
The universe says:
Alright, here’s the truth: you’re a walking disaster piece with deluxe emotional baggage, but hey, who isn’t? The good news? You can stop replaying that childhood trauma mixtape on repeat like it’s your personal greatest hits album. Radical, I know.
So do yourself a favor—maybe try feeling your feelings instead of filing them under “urgent ignore.”
You don’t need to reinvent your entire personality every time you feel sad. Just pause. Take a breath. Cry in a public restroom if you must. Let someone care about you without planning your emotional exit strategy. Take a nap without guilt. Drink water because your organs are tired of running on iced coffee and unspoken resentment.
You’re not behind. You’re not broken. You’re just a human being doing their best with outdated emotional software.
The Universe is watching, emotionally exhausted, but quietly hopeful.
don’t abandon joy because it is brief. don’t commit to solitude because happiness is fleeting. it’s okay that good things do not last forever. it’s okay to simply enjoy a thing for as long as you have it.
“I fell in love with you as soon as I saw you, as soon as you covered me from my father, as soon as I heard your laugh, saw the amazing mother you are, and realized I never wanted you to leave this house.”
✧ pairing: CEO! satoru gojo x f!reader
✧ summary: to your almost regret, your life as a single mother seems to be weighing more and more heavily on your worn-out shoulders. so what could be better than pretending to be the CEO’s girlfriend of the business you work for, knowing that his father is the general manager?
✧ warnings: +18 only, smut, nsfw, her daughter is called hinata, fake dating/single mom tropes, angst, mother insecurities, fluff, reader’s ex is a jerk, unprotected sex, sex (p in v), overstimulation, pussy drunk (satoru), nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), oral (m), this fic is (really slightly) inspired from the french book ‘un printemps pour te succomber’ by morgane moncomble, including therefore small similar dialogues, (pls guys learn french only to read this masterpiece!!), fanart by @/ilameys on twt.
✧ wc: 10,154
“Can I taste the frosting?”
Your lips curve into a smile. “Of course, angel.” You crouch down and hand the spatula coated in pastel pink frosting to your five-year-old daughter. Her little fist wraps around the handle, and joy spreads across her angelic face like rays of sunshine. “So? How is it?”
“It’s so good!” she exclaims, and you chuckle.
“I’m glad you like it.” You glance at the clock in your kitchen. “I’ll put the frosting in the fridge. While the cake bakes, go back to playing, and I’ll call you to help decorate the cake as soon as it’s ready, okay?”
Hinata nods, blowing you a kiss that you return after a moment of surprised hesitation, your lips forming an “O”. Amid delighted laughter, she skips away, and you turn back to face the bowl of cake batter.
Why does it have to be so hard?
Every birthday, you hold back tears because who said ‘single mom’ doesn’t rhyme with ‘baking your own birthday cake so your daughter can sing to you’? But what hurts more — this, or seeing your flesh and blood envy her female friends who have their dads in their arms and their mothers content with their families?
The silence of loneliness can sometimes be louder than company.
“Happy birthday! Happy birthday, mama!” your daughter sings, clapping her hands as you blow out your candles in the warm, yet dimly lit, living room. “Come on, come on! Let’s eat the cake!”
With a knife, you cut two slices, one for each of you, and it only takes a few more minutes for both your mouths to be covered in pink frosting, with laughter echoing in the room. The heartache, briefly chased away by the short-lived joy, returns later that night when your daughter snuggles up in your arms in your double bed, which seems to be missing something.
Fuck, being a single mom is tough, you think as you wipe away the tears flooding your cheeks with the back of your hand. No one to support you, all the responsibilities fall on your shoulders, and now doubts about your daughter start invading your mind: “What if she blames you later for not having a father?”, “What if she thinks you’re a bad mom?”, “Do her friends at school say anything about you being the only unmarried woman among all the parents in her class?”
These thoughts have never stopped, not even during your pregnancy, whether about the weight gained or lost, or the changes in your body. Are these regrets? But how could you regret bringing such an angel into the world? Maybe it’s more about the lousy partner who left you the second he found out you were pregnant.
Probably the second option.
°°°
“WHERE IS MY SON?!”
A male voice thunders across the entire floor of the company. You jump, turning to one of your colleagues over the small partition set up for employee privacy. “Who’s yelling like that?” you whisper, eyebrows raised in surprise.
“I heard it’s the new general manager…”
Your frown deepens. “Is that why they handed me the summary of our sales figures to drop off at the office upstairs?” To prove your point, you lift the massive stack of documents.
Your colleague presses his lips together, his eyes widening in a way that already gives you the answer. “Oh God, you’re the one in charge of that? Good luck. It’s to be delivered to the new director.”
A sigh escapes your lips.
For a start to the workweek, it seems you’re about to face the stormy mood of the new boss, who apparently brought his kid to the office. What a perfect beginning.
As usual, the upper floor is deserted, as it’s generally reserved for executives with direct ties to the company’s CEO. Few people take the elevator to reach the top floor of the skyscraper. Arriving in the lonely hallway, it should be a simple task to knock on the boss’s office door, drop off the elephant-weight stack of documents, and leave.
So why does the sound of running footsteps seem to be getting closer and closer behind you?
In a flash, a man dressed in a navy blue suit rushes past you, bumping your shoulder. He nearly topples the threatening stack of papers, but you manage, at the last second, to catch everything before you lose your balance. The young man opens the door to the women’s restroom, and before entering, he glances over his shoulder.
Never in your life have eyes made such an impression on you.
Two cerulean blue orbs lock onto yours with a mischievous aura. A smirk tugs at the corner of his thin, pink lips. From his pale skin to his albino hair, the man exudes charm and beauty from every pore. The sheer allure of his appearance leaves your brain too stunned to react, numbing it. How can someone be this handsome?
“SATORU!”
His serene and amused expression vanishes instantly, and you jump in response. Replaced by an exaggerated look of fear, he addresses you, “Cover for me. If he asks you, you never saw me!” And his tall, slender body disappears into the women’s restroom.
More footsteps echo down the hallway, this time from a second man, just as tall and physically similar to the young man you just encountered — though slightly older, with wrinkles lining his face and a mix of albino hair and silver from age. You have no time to react except to straighten up against the wall.
His blue eyes, more gray and stern, settle on you as he approaches. “Did you see a man? A tall idiot running around and flirting with any woman he sees,” he grumbles the last part, his eyes thoughtfully fixed on the light carpet.
You shake your head robotically. “No… I—”
“Never mind,” he cuts you off with a dismissive wave of his hand — as if your answer is irrelevant and he’s heard it at least twenty times before. He sighs and scratches at the stubble on his chin. “Who are you, anyway?”
“An employee, sir.” You gesture to the stack of documents that’s beginning to make its weight known in your arms. “I was asked to drop this off in your office.” The tone of your voice almost pleads with him to let you in and relieve you of the annoying burden.
“The report? Ah yes, of course.” You sigh in relief as he unlocks the door with his keys. “I suppose you’re wondering who I am?”
“The new general manager, I guess?” you reply, raising an eyebrow. You drop the heavy stack onto the desk and exhale deeply. “We heard you on every floor.” You can’t help but chuckle at your own remark, offering the director an apologetic smile.
He rolls his eyes, but a light chuckle still rumbles in his chest. “You’re right. It’s because of my son.”
His son?
You repeat the word aloud, confused, and he clarifies. “My son is the new CEO of this company, and I almost regret my decision to give him that position.” He shakes his head, his gaze drifting toward the blue sky visible through the large window, then refocuses on you. “I apologize in advance. He’s going to be a real handful.”
“I understand. I think we’ll manage to put up with him,” you add with a smile.
In the end, this new boss doesn’t seem as strict as your colleagues have been saying, and his story about his son is more amusing than anything. You cough slightly into your elbow and clear your throat, murmuring an apology.
“Are you sick?” the director inquires.
“A little,” you admit reluctantly, feeling embarrassed as you adjust the mask on your face. “Sorry. I couldn’t stay home.”
“No problem.” He crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. “Well, I think I have some work to do. See you later, I suppose.”
You don’t hesitate to leave the boss’s office and quietly step into the women’s restroom. “Is… someone here?” you murmur in a hoarse voice.
The creaking of a door answers you, and the general manager’s son emerges from a stall, looking cautious. He looks like a little boy checking to see if his hiding spot in a game of hide-and-seek has been discovered, which makes you stifle a discreet giggle. He turns to you and offers an apologetic smile. “Sorry about earlier. I didn’t hurt you, did I, sweetheart?”
The nickname catches you off guard, and warmth floods your face. “N-No, I’m fine. You’re the new CEO, right?”
“Satoru Gojo, at your service, pretty girl.” He winks, a reminder that he’s quite the flirt.
You introduce yourself in return, running out of things to say, your hands nervously clasped by your sides.
“Pretty name,” Satoru murmurs. He closes the stall door behind him and exhales, shaking his head. “Phew! That was a close one! Thanks again!” He strides toward the exit with one last charming smile in your direction, leaving the restroom and a lingering scent of cologne behind him.
°°°°
“Why aren’t you answering?”
“Damn it, you’re so annoying with this!”
“There’s no point in moving every few months, I’m going to find you.”
“For fuck’s sake, answer my messages! I told you I need you! I swear I’ll help you raise Hinata this time.”
“I made a mistake, so let me fix it by answering my fucking messages! I know you’re reading them!”
You swallow hard, your throat tight, and press the “block this contact” button on your phone. It’s the fourth time this month. He’s been harassing you with messages and finding a way to contact you no matter how many numbers he uses, even when you change yours. The same goes for your address, as apparently changing apartments is no longer enough to escape him.
You know he’s in debt — one of the many consequences of his excessive gambling, even when you were still in a relationship with him. Smoking, drinking, and of course, downing tobacco like it was water, only to charm you while hiding this lifestyle to get you into his bed, then fleeing the moment you were pregnant.
So now that he needs a woman and a child to escape his debts, he’s reaching out to you — the woman he abandoned after promising marriage (without a ring, of course), got pregnant, and deserted, only to come crawling back to you.
“Mama? You okay?”
Your daughter’s concerned little voice pulls you out of your daze. The cartoons playing on the TV haven’t had the desired effect — they’re not distracting her from the anxiety that’s been gnawing at you day by day. Maybe today, it’s showing enough for people to notice?
“I’m fine, angel,” you reassure her with a perfect smile — perfectly fake, because that’s something you’ve learned to anchor over time.
You pat the empty spot on the couch next to you, and she nestles under your arm. “If you say so…” Hina murmurs, clutching her worn-out bunny plush.
The state of the plush catches your attention, and a pang of guilt stabs at your heart. What kind of mother lets her daughter carry around a stuffed toy in such poor condition? Maybe you are a bad mother? Otherwise, why would Hina deserve such a pitiful situation? She deserves so much better than you…
“Little angel?” you murmur as she wraps her tiny arms around your waist and nuzzles into your belly. “Are you okay?”
“I love you.”
And the three little words sound… unreal.
Hot tears blur your vision, and it takes every bit of strength you have to whisper back, “I love you too, Hina.”
°°°°
3:00 PM.
In less than an hour, you’ll need to pick up Hinata from school.
Normally, you avoid lingering at work. You go through your usual routine as an employee, nothing special or fun — a hello, goodbye, see you tomorrow to colleagues without worrying about what’s happening around you or the gossip, even when it involves coworkers getting together.
The only change: now it’s you who gets stuck with the task of delivering all the documents to the general manager. According to one of your peers, he doesn’t seem to be strict or threatening when it comes to you. So this time, you’re tasked with delivering an additional file about the production of a new product on the market to both the CEO and the general manager. For the second time, you head up to the highest floors of the company headquarters to knock on the CEO’s door — it’s the closest. But no one answers.
No surprise, since the director’s son spends his time running through the hallways to avoid his father and shirk his responsibilities, right?
You’re about to knock on the Director’s door, but a familiar gust of wind brushes your face with a soft, fresh breeze. Satoru Gojo appears beside you with a charming smile and glances at what you’re holding.
“H-Hello, sweetheart. How are… you?” he greets, slightly out of breath from yet another chase with his father.
“I’m fine. Here.” You hand him one of the folders, and he takes it, pretending to read it. “The next meeting—” But he grabs the second document and, before you can react, opens the door to his office and casually tosses them inside before shutting the door.
“SATORU GOJO! KEEP IT UP, AND I’LL DISOWN YOU!” The boss’s voice echoes through the entire floor as he appears from behind the emergency exit door. “YOU!” He points a finger at you, standing right next to him. “Still bothering our employees?” He grumbles, his jaw clenched so tightly that you can hear his teeth grinding.
“That’s not true, father!” Satoru protests, feigning outrage. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. “You’re chasing me while I’m just saying hello to my girlfriend?”
You freeze, turning your head toward him, as lost as the Director, who squints his eyes. “Your girlfriend? Since when—”
“I was going to tell you,” Satoru continues, shaking his head, his fingers squeezing your waist while you remain paralyzed. “Here’s my new girlfriend.”
“Are you lying to me and dragging some poor woman into your childish games?”
In the back of your mind, you note that he doesn’t seem to recognize you despite the last time you saw each other.
“What? I’m telling the truth! Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” And he leans in to plant an affectionate kiss on your cheek.
Your heart almost stops for a second. But you quickly snap back to reality under the insistent embrace of his arm and his hand around you. “Y-Yes…”
What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?
“Well, if you’ll excuse us, father, my darling and I are in a hurry.” He leads you away before you have time to protest and heads toward the elevator with you.
Once the doors close, Satoru takes your hands in his and leans toward you. “I can explain everything.”
If his cerulean blue eyes hadn’t been so persuasive, you would have exploded right there and then to yell at him.
You, the girlfriend of the CEO of the company you work for? Did this really have to happen to you? You can already picture your termination letter under your nose as you exit the back of the building. A glance at your watch tells you that if you don’t hurry, you’ll be late to pick up your daughter.
“You’re in a rush?”
“I have to pick up my daughter before I’m late,” you reply curtly, “and look at the mess I’m in now!”
“I know, I know…” Satoru rubs the back of his head, right where his immaculate undercut is. “Maybe I can explain on the way? Where’s your car?” He looks around the parking lot, his eyes searching.
The question — however mundane — makes you blush with embarrassment. “I… take public transportation…” you mumble, pouting.
He furrows his brow, as if you just admitted to showering with maggot-infested soap. “Excuse me? I don’t take public transportation.”
“Well, I do.” A hint of defiance returns to protect your pride.
How could he possibly understand when he lives like a rich man, without worrying about grocery shopping, paying bills, and of course, taking public transportation during the week to avoid wasting gas because it costs an arm and a leg! But for him, that must not be part of his daily life, especially since he’s one of society’s privileged.
“Let’s take my car then.” He says this without waiting for you, as you remain standing there. He pulls out his keys and opens the passenger door. “What are you waiting for?”
“But— I— Are you out of your mind?” you burst out. “I’m not getting in that car! I’m supposed to pick up my daughter, and now I’m pretending to be your girlfriend! In front of your father!” You emphasize your words with wild, energetic gestures.
He bursts out laughing.
Cute.
“No chance. We’re going to pick up your daughter and clear this all up. And please, stop refusing to get into a car that’s way better than those buses that reek of sweat.” He rolls his eyes, and you note how much he resembles his father when he does that.
“I have an errand to run anyway,” you persist.
“And that doesn’t change the fact that I want you to get in this car,” Satoru chuckles.
Taking a closer look, the car is as luxurious as the ones you dream about at night — yours, by comparison, looks like a junk heap ready for the scrapyard. Reluctantly, you climb in, Satoru’s chivalrous demeanor not going unnoticed as he snickers at your surrender. He quickly gets in, asks for the address of the school, and sets off after starting his car, which smells just as good as he does. You feel like a piece of trash in the middle of this little universe he inhabits.
“My father bugs me every day to find a woman,” Satoru murmurs at first, one hand resting on his thigh, clad in business suit trousers, his eyes fixed on the road over his round sunglasses. “That’s one of the reasons I avoid him.”
“And why involve me?” you snap back.
“Well, to be honest, it was partly impulsive. I met you the other day, and then, in the moment, I just wanted my father to leave me alone.” He has a half-smile that makes you swallow hard, and he gives you a knowing look before returning to a serious expression. “I’m sorry for dragging you into all this.” A pause. “I just hope you’re not married, otherwise—”
“No, I— No.” You close your eyes for a moment, the innocent question burning like a fiery arrow piercing your already aching heart. Did you just hear a sigh of relief? “And your father doesn’t seem to have recognized me since the other day,” you can’t help but point out.
“The mask.” Satoru grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. “He didn’t recognize you because of that. He’s always had a bad memory and poor eyesight.”
“But you recognized me.” You focus on the road’s scenery to avoid confronting his mesmerizing eyes. “I’m not going to wear my mask forever, you know? And I don’t want to keep pretending—”
“Please,” Satoru whispers, placing a hand on yours, sending a shiver down your spine. “Just until he and my family get off my back.”
“I’m sorry, but—”
“How much do you want?” He asks immediately, as if he just remembered something.
“What? No! I don’t want your money!” you protest as quickly as he did. “No, I…” And you groan, sinking into your seat.
Holy shit!
“What have I gotten myself into, seriously…” you moan, crossing your arms over your chest, a grimace distorting your features.
“Please. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’ll do everything to make it just a minor detail… I’m only asking you to change your name in front of my father when you pass as my girlfriend, wear a mask, and change your hairstyle at work — if we want to avoid suspicion. He won’t suspect a thing, I swear.” He pulls into the school parking lot and parks quietly.
Thoughts bombard your already exhausted mind, and you massage your temples. Why does this have to happen to you and no one else?
Satoru murmurs your name, making you lift your head. “It will only be a few family events, just for appearances, nothing more. I won’t bother you any further.”
You sigh, and the sound of the bell signaling the end of classes rings out. “I need to think about it. Thanks for the ride. Have a nice—”
“Come back. I’ll take you home,” Satoru suggests, pressing the button to unlock your door.
What’s the point of refusing?
You nod, finally getting out of the car to go pick up your daughter, who runs toward you as soon as you reach the gate.
"Mama!" She jumps into your arms.
You return her embrace, heading towards Satoru’s car. “Did you have a good day?”
“So much fun! I made you a drawing!” She’s practically bouncing as you reach the car.
Noticing your daughter’s confused look, you clear your throat. “Uh… A-A friend of mine is giving us a ride home, okay?” She blinks innocently and waits for you to open the car door, which is almost as tall as she is. Hinata gets in as you do, and you cough slightly. “This is Gojo. My friend.”
“Hello, princess.” Satoru turns his head over his shoulder with a big smile. “What’s your name?”
“Hinata,” she replies, her legs gently swinging.
“Very pretty.”
“Thank you.” She blushes and tries to hide a smile.
On the way, you try to fill the awkward silences with small talk until you arrive at the supermarket.
You had promised to buy Hinata a new stuffed animal since last night after spending hours worrying that you weren’t being a good mother. Again.
“That one!” Hinata almost runs towards a bunny plushie that’s twice the size of her head. She grabs it with her little arms and gives it a hug.
Satoru and you reach the aisle, and out of habit, you check the price under the albino’s watchful eye. Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when you see the amount, and you place a trembling hand on Hina’s shoulder. “Angel, I think it’s—”
“…Perfect,” Satoru finishes, his large hands taking the plushie from your daughter’s tight embrace to check the price tag with its shocking number. “Do you like it, little one?” he asks, looking down at her.
Hina nods energetically. “Yeah!”
“Then we’ll take it.” Satoru hands the plushie back to her and turns towards the checkout lane, already reaching into one of his pockets for what looks like… a wallet.
You react immediately, your hands finding their way around his arm. He doesn’t push you away at all and even smiles at the contact. “Gojo… No.”
“It’s Satoru to you, sweetheart,” he whispers gently. “And why not? It’s just a stuffed animal,” he scoffs. He takes Hinata’s hand so she can place the plushie on the conveyor belt.
“No, it’s not nothing to me,” you persist through clenched teeth, embarrassed that the cashier might be paying attention to your conversation.
Satoru shrugs. The cashier scans the plushie, and he uses contactless payment to pay for it. With your hands still around his arm, he places one of his on top, an intimate closeness.
“I could get used to this,” he murmurs near your ear, making you turn beet red. But he can’t continue as your daughter clings to Satoru’s leg like a koala, showering him with a thousand thank-yous for the gift. “You’re welcome, little one.” His hand gently ruffles her hair. He grins, now turning back to you. “It’s on me. You don’t owe me anything.”
Your discreet protests, so Hinata doesn’t suspect anything, come to an end when he drops both of you off in front of your home. Hinata commented that Satoru’s car looked like the one from the movie Barbie: Princess Charm School she had seen recently. He unlocks the doors as you get out of the car. Satoru’s hand catches yours, slipping a piece of cardstock into it. His contact details are on it.
“Just in case,” he mouths silently.
Nevertheless, you slip the business card into your pocket and respond just before closing the door, “I accept.”
°°°°
“And no funny business, okay? Never run in the hallways, if he tells you to wait, don’t move an inch, and—” You stop yourself as you notice your daughter is more interested in admiring the elegant decorations of the office hallways with wide, doe-like eyes and an adorable, slightly open mouth.
To your great misfortune, Hinata’s preschool is on strike for a while — which means almost all the teachers are absent. So how do you take care of your daughter when you can’t afford to miss work? By bringing her to your fake boyfriend’s office, of course! You quickly make your way toward Satoru’s office, Hinata following with her hand in yours. But just as you raise your fist to knock on his door, two large hands land on your shoulders, nearly scaring the life out of you.
“Hey, hey!” You whip around abruptly, a new mask on your face — just as the plan intended.
“Satoru…” you grit through your teeth. Hinata looks up at him and grins. You sigh.
“What do I owe the pleasure of all this lovely company?” Satoru asks, not taking his eyes off yours while giving Hinata a high-five.
As usual, he’s dressed in a luxurious suit — probably worth the rent of the apartment you live in — his slightly tousled albino hair and the familiar scent of cologne filling your nostrils. You catch yourself staring a little too long, and mentally kick yourself when his curious gaze turns mischievous.
He just realized you were checking him out, damn it!
“Hinata’s school is on strike. I need you to watch her for the day, if that’s not a problem, and since you seemed so insistent on returning the favor I’m doing for you…” you mumble, avoiding his gaze. “I see you’re spending your day roaming the offices rather than staying in yours…”
“No problem at all,” Satoru replies automatically, a pleased smile on his lips. “Ready to go to the CEO’s office?” He picks up Hina, who giggles and clings to him like a koala.
It’s your turn to smile in relief. “Thank you so much. I have a meeting with your father in an hour, and I’ll come get her at noon and again at the end of the day.” The sight of the two of them close together makes your heart melt — and for once, you don’t blame yourself for seeing Hinata happy to be with someone else.
°°°°
5:00 PM.
You’ve sent a message to Satoru asking where he was, since knocking on his perpetually empty office seems to be pointless. The meeting with the other company members about organizing the launch of a new product was particularly painful, but one thing is certain: the general manager didn’t recognize you with your more subdued hairstyle and the mask plastered on your face.
“Come to the parking lot like last time.”
And that’s the last message from Satoru (you gave him your number during lunch).
In the empty parking lot, only Satoru’s car is present, and you cast a curious glance through the windows. The two troublemakers give you a grimace — tongues sticking out and faces scrunched up. You sigh as the passenger door opens automatically.
“Satoru, you don’t have to—”
“Hina said yes and that she wants to come to my place,” Satoru cuts in with a mocking expression.
Reluctantly, you get in, your heart pounding in your chest with all sorts of panicked thoughts. However, Satoru doesn’t seem to share your reservations and starts driving as soon as you’re settled.
“So, this means you’re coming to my place,” he says, hands on the wheel and a quick glance in the rearview mirror, “and I’m inviting you to dinner.”
“No—”
“Mom! Please, Satoru is being too nice.” Hinata complains. You glance back, and she looks at you with wounded, pleading puppy eyes, arms crossed over her chest.
You grumble, slumping back against your seat as they both cheer in victory.
“By the way, I’m stopping by your place so you can pack. We’re invited to a family wedding, and my father invited us.”
“WHAT?”
°°°°
You place a box with your gift on the designated table for presents, and an arm wraps around your waist. “You look stunning,” Satoru murmurs against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin, which breaks out in goosebumps.
With a flushed face, you turn your head. “Satoru…”
“What? Just because we’re pretending to be a couple and barely know each other doesn’t mean I can’t speak the truth.” He pauses. “Well, actually, we do know each other a bit, don’t we? We’ve had dinner together.” He chuckles at your half-grimacing, half-deadpan expression, pulling you closer as music fills the wedding reception hall.
You turn your head along with him toward the back of the room, where the bride’s bouquet is about to be thrown. A tight smile curves your lips — this is one thing you’ve dreamed of. Dreams have always been just that — dreams in your life, and even when love comes knocking at your door, it’s only passing through, just like your situation with Satoru.
His father didn’t notice anything, and since Satoru lives alone in a villa, it’s hard to say no when he offered for you to stay with him until he’s settled, with your own room and a staff available 24/7. He even had a tailor make a custom dress for the wedding you were both invited to. Hinata is looked after by a lovely nurse, and you’re enjoying a life you’ve always dreamed of. So why not make the most of it despite your past?
A Satoru who’s too comfortable with you isn’t so bothersome given the time you’ve spent together lately — both at the office, acting as a couple in front of certain people, and sometimes showing affection to each other to appear believable, even though they haven’t asked for kisses yet, so—
A fluffy and soft object lands right in the middle of your face and falls into your arms. You search for what seems to be a petal in your mouth and suck in your breath at what you realize it is.
The bride’s bouquet.
A gulp forces its way down your throat as the whole room applauds because… you’ve been hit in the face with the bouquet? Not to mention the lamentations of other female cousins who had jumped with all their hopes to catch it… But why you, who hadn’t asked for anything?
“Sweetheart?” Satoru mutters, his chest still pressed against your back. His tone is so sweet, nonchalant, as if you’ve been a couple for years. “My father is watching us, and I think he’s expecting me to do something.”
You swallow and nod, dreading what might happen next. Will your heart stop beating when Satoru says:
“May I kiss you?”
Never, ever, has anyone asked you that question. Not even your ex.
So, with a nervous nod, you allow him to capture your lips in a soft, languid kiss. His tender lips taste like the cotton candy children eat at the fair. They cherish yours with every movement (which you can’t help but return in kind). Each press sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
When the kiss ends, Satoru places one last kiss on the corner of your lips and clears his throat. “This is the first time I’ve wanted to marry my girlfriend.” His warm breath ignites your body.
Has your heart exploded?
If not, why can’t you breathe?
“Awww… How adorable you are with your pretty girlfriend, Satoru!”
An elderly woman approaches you both, supported by her old cane, and you note her albino hair, similar to Satoru’s.
“My dear aunt…” Satoru smiles widely without breaking away from you.
“You make a lovely couple,” Aunt Gojo continues, giving you a wise look.
“Oh, thank you.” You immediately bow and introduce yourself. Satoru’s hands squeeze your waist, and he chuckles at your manners.
“Take good care of her, you idiot,” the aunt finishes before drifting away, a tap of her cane on Satoru’s head making him sigh and rub his sore skull.
“Well, at least we look convincing, right?” he adds.
“Yes…”
Of course, he said that because he saw his aunt before you! Don’t think he said it because he meant it or—
“By the way,” Satoru takes your hand in his and leads you to the center of the dance floor, “I meant what I said before my aunt interrupted us.”
And you’re at a loss on how to interpret his playful wink.
°°°°
“WOW! Hinata, you’re so rich!”
“Is this your dad’s castle?”
Hinata takes Satoru’s hand and faces her friends in his chic living room. “It’s my daddy’s!” She nods proudly and runs off with them toward the games and festivities organized for her birthday. The children run everywhere, scream, and burst into laughter throughout the room. The perfect atmosphere.
It’s exactly what you’ve always dreamed of giving Hina.
“You didn’t have to do this,” you murmur to Satoru, who, despite your comment, shakes his head joyfully.
“I’m glad she likes it,” he replies.
“I wasn’t talking about the party.”
He freezes and turns his head toward you. “Didn’t you tell me you’d never been married?” he dares to whisper, possibly afraid of hurting you.
“That’s true. My ex left after learning I was pregnant with Hinata.” You exhale the breath you’ve been holding, the weight of the secret finally lifted.
Maybe he won’t want to keep pretending to be your boyfriend after this…
“You can still tell me his name, you know, sweetheart?” Satoru moves closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist, as if it’s completely natural for him, but there’s a tension in his touch. “I can take care of him and—”
You shake your head to dispel the tiny bit of resentment that’s urging you to say yes. “It’s okay. Thanks for agreeing to pretend to be her father. I know it’s going to be a bit of a hassle for a while, but she cares a lot—”
“Nuh-uh.” He places a kiss on your cheek, then another on the side of your neck, causing you to shiver. “She’s already talked about it in my office.”
You open your eyes wide. “What…?”
“Hinata likes you much more than you think… You’ve suffered too much,” His other hand glides over your stomach, and his thumb traces affectionate circles on your waist.
“Thank you,” you breathe, leaning into his touch. And for a moment, the weight on your shoulders completely lifts. “We haven’t had the best birthdays recently, so I’m happy to see Hinata get what she wants.” Your eyes rest on your daughter, dressed as a fairy, waving her glittery wand at one of her friends dressed as a witch. “So, thank you for everything.”
“No need to thank me, sweetheart. But which birthday are you talking about? Yours? When was it?”
Embarrassed, your mouth feels dry. “...A while ago.”
Satoru pulls you tightly against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you, his nose buried in your hair. “You’re such a strong woman… I can take care of you if you want. You and Hina will live like princesses, and if you want to sleep with her or have your own room, that’s no problem for me.”
“What? No, Satoru, you’re joking…”
“I’m not joking,” he insists, his gaze diving into yours — and for a second, sincerity fills his cerulean eyes.
With your mouth slightly open, you whisper, “We barely know each other, and—”
“Mama! Papa! We need to break the piñata!” Hinata rushes over to you, not paying any attention to how close you are to Satoru, and grabs each of your hands.
“Yes, angel, we’re coming,” you respond to your daughter with a weary smile, before glancing at Satoru, who is no longer looking in your direction.
Why are his ears so red?
°°°°
You place the last birthday decoration box in a corner of the living room as Satoru asked and straighten up with a grimace from your aching back. “Geez…”
The upper floor of the huge house is strangely quiet, and you furrow your brows. Could they have gone downstairs?
“Hinata? Satoru?” you call out as you walk through the hallways.
The evening darkness makes it hard to see clearly, and only the faint beam of light escaping from the kitchen door guides you.
“Are you there?” you ask, gently pushing the door open, and what you find leaves you stunned.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” the two of them exclaim, holding an enormous cake between them.
A few candles illuminate the underside of their beaming faces, party hats perched on their heads. The kitchen is a huge mess, counters covered in flour and frosting, and dishes overflow from the sink, threatening to topple over.
You stand speechless as they continue to sing your birthday song. Your nostrils and eyes start to itch strangely. Why is your vision suddenly blurring? It looks like transparent waves just above your lower lashes, threatening to overflow if you dare to blink. Yet, you can’t escape it.
Not when they set the cake on the table and pull you into a hug while your nose runs, tears roll down your cheeks, and your choked-up throat is on the verge of bursting into sobs. Satoru keeps kissing your hair, never stopping for a second to comfort you with sweet and reassuring words, his hand drawing circles on your back. Hinata wipes your tears while her own roll down her little cheeks.
Seeing you cry has always been contagious for her.
The moment gives you a glimpse of what your life would be like if you had a complete family, and Satoru’s words echo in your mind. How could he be so perfect in just a few weeks of knowing him?
Once the emotion passes, a few minutes later, you eat your birthday cake with laughter and cheer, accompanied not just by the one person who now means everything to you, but by both.
°°°°
“Watch out, Hina. You have applesauce on your chin,” Satoru chuckles, his hand grabbing a napkin to wipe the excess food around the child’s mouth.
The heartwarming scene makes your heart swell. You definitely don’t regret going out with Satoru and Hinata to have a meal at a chic terrace in their company. The family atmosphere finally gives you a glimpse of the life you’ve always hoped to live. Hinata growing up with a loving father and mother, and you, loved and supported by an ideal partner. Why not reconsider Satoru’s proposal, then? He’s the first man to think of you, even after your birthday had passed some time ago.
“I’m going to the restroom,” you murmur to Satoru, who nods in response, a wry smile curling his pink lips.
But why did it have to be on this day that a man finally approaches the two people you care about just as you slip away? He clearly waited from afar for you to let your guard down around your daughter so he could show up right in the middle of the table, facing a little girl — his daughter, technically — next to a man who isn’t her father.
Satoru slowly raises his head toward him, brows furrowed and wary. “Can I help you?”
Your ex says your name. “Where is she?” he mimics asking as if he didn’t know.
“What do you want with her?”
“To talk to her. I have the right. And you’re with my daughter, just so you know.” He crosses his arms over his chest, trying to appear threatening, but Satoru remains stoic, more contemptuous than anything else in the face of such a scruffy, unshaven nuisance.
“She’s not here; you can leave,” Satoru responds. And out of protective instinct, he pulls Hinata’s chair closer to him, his eyes narrowed. Satoru understands perfectly that your ex is back to claim his rights over his daughter, just as he’s been harassing you with messages about it.
“Excuse me? When my daughter is in the arms of a stranger? I could call the police immediately and we’ll sort this out very quickly,” your ex retorts sharply. He takes a step toward a lost Hinata, her big doe eyes blinking innocently between the two men. Of course, she doesn’t recognize him.
An altercation begins between the two, which naturally attracts the attention of other diners around. And you walk into the middle of the scene, frozen in shock at the sight of your ex hurling threats at Satoru.
“She’s taking my daughter, so I’m taking her back! And it’s not a bastard like you who’s going to help her regain my rights!” your ex spits with venom. His icy eyes find yours, terrified, your hands trembling and your complexion as pale as a sheet. He’s about to address you with the same angry speech, his face flushed with rage and a vein ready to burst at his temple.
Do you get déjà vu?
“‘Your daughter’?” Satoru repeats with a deadly gaze and a jaw quivering with rage. “She’s been sitting next to me for over an hour, I’ve been feeding her for over an hour, she’s been calling me by my name for over an hour, and you’re talking about ‘your daughter’? At this point, whose daughter is she... yours or mine?”
Your ex, publicly humiliated, opens his eyes wide with hatred. “You little son of—”
“Sir, we ask that you leave the terrace; you’re disturbing our customers,” a security guard declares firmly. He’s accompanied by another colleague, and when your ex protests, they grab him by the arm and escort him away amidst his shouting and the murmurs of other customers who keep staring at the three of you.
You move closer to Satoru, who immediately stands up upon seeing you — having not realized you were there — and can only offer you an apologetic look. “Let’s go,” you silently mouth (your throat too tight to dare let a sound escape, fearing it might break before you say anything), taking the hand of a silent and lost Hinata. “I’ll pay the bill and—”
“It’s already taken care of; we can go,” Satoru gently interrupts, following you to his car.
And it’s on the silent drive back that you realize something.
You’ve officially fallen in love with Satoru Gojo.
°°°°
“Look, Mom, Dad and I made a drawing for you!” Hinata proudly holds up a colorful picture with three easily recognizable characters on it.
“Did you brush your teeth?” you ask as you take the drawing to admire it, just as much smiling as your daughter. She nods and then does a little twirl to show off her new pajamas that Satoru gave her earlier in the day. “It’s beautiful. You’re so talented,” you chuckle, leaning in to plant a kiss on her cheek.
Satoru appears in the doorway of Hinata’s room, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest, a perpetual playful smile curving his lips. “Ready to go to sleep?”
“Yes, and I showed our drawing to mama,” Hinata asserts, bouncing on her bed.
“Oh yeah? Did mama like it?” Satoru asks softly, his eyes now locked with yours.
“Mama loved it and thanks Daddy,” you whisper, your voice quivering with emotion that threatens to spill over.
Half an hour later, Satoru and you find yourselves in the hallway with a sleeping Hinata and her little lullaby snores.
Satoru wraps his arm around your waist as usual and buries his face in your neck. Your heart is already racing, and your breath catches when he says, “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” The embrace is a simple hug but with unspoken words easily guessed.
“For everything.” Satoru sighs, and for a split second, you hope he’ll let you speak, but no. “I didn’t mean to make a scene and—”
“And you think I’m going to blame you for protecting us? That I wasn’t touched by what you said about Hina?” you mumble near his ear. The closeness gives you another chance to see his ears turn red. “Is Satoru shy?” you giggle, open to teasing. He hums, hiding his face so you don’t see his expression.
“I love you.”
You blink, because you must have heard wrong. “Huh?”
“Marry me.” And he’s already on his knees before you, eyes pleading. That usually confident cerulean blue is now so submissive, so close at hand… But the sudden turn of events leaves you stunned. “I want to be your husband, not just have you as my wife. I want to raise Hina with you and give you everything you need.” Not letting himself be distracted by your stunned expression, he continues, “Want my money? I’ll give it to you. My house? It will be in your name. Want my body? It belongs to you. My heart? It’s already yours.” And he starts kissing the backs of your hands desperately. “I love you, I love you… Please, marry me…”
“Satoru… You—” you stammer, backing away, your brow furrowed. Everything is a jumble in your head, both from his touching declaration but also because it’s all moving too fast for you. “You… love me?” you manage to whisper.
He crawls to you and wraps his large arms around your thighs, almost choking with desperation. “I fell in love with you as soon as I saw you, as soon as you covered me from my father, as soon as I heard your laugh, saw the amazing mother you are, and realized I never wanted you to leave this house.” He whispers your name like a divine invocation. “I’ve fallen in love with you more than just once.”
You don’t immediately respond, and that’s okay in his eyes. He doesn’t want to pressure you, just for you to know the truth and for him to be completely transparent with you.
“It’s okay if you don’t share my feelings; I just want you to know that—” But he’s cut off by your rush toward him on the floor as you press your lips to his, pulling him into the dance of your lips that one gives to the other in a long, passionate kiss. “God… I love you so much…”
“I love you too, Satoru,” you murmur against his mouth between kisses that turn into moans as he slides his warm, wet tongue between your lips to request access to your mouth.
Both of your breaths become ragged and heavy. Satoru takes the opportunity to lift you by the underside of your thighs and lead you to his bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him without breaking the contact of your swollen, desirous lips. He gently lays you on the king-size bed with silver satin and frost-blue sheets.
With a tenderness of loving slowness, Satoru breaks the kiss. “Do you want to continue?” he asks, his voice husky. You nod timidly, but he shakes his head with his mischievous smile — finally back. “Nuh-uh. Your words, sweetheart.”
“I want it, Satoru,” you reply after a sigh of exasperation so adorable in his eyes that it makes him laugh, then he places a light kiss on the corner of your lips.
“Alright… Gonna take care of my beautiful girl, the best, the most wonderful mother, and maybe future wife—” He places a finger on your lips. “Oh no, you’ll answer that later if you want, when I have something concrete for that occasion.”
You sigh in frustration because the answer is already on the tip of your tongue, but it soon turns into a moan as he kisses the side of your neck with such deliberate slowness that you really wonder if he’s going to tease you to the limit. His hands roam over your clothed chest, exploring your already hardened nipples. His lips find their way to your collarbone, marking it with love bites and hickeys that elicit muffled moans from you.
“If you knew how long I’ve dreamed of doing this…” Satoru comments with a touch of affection, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your shirt. “Exactly how I would act with my wife—”
“And your father?” And he chuckles again.
“We don’t care about him.” He casually tosses your top aside to tease your sensitive, erect nipples through the fabric with his thumbs. “Such humble underwear… Would you like me to buy you something more daring?” he purrs, pulling on a strap to snap it against your gooseflesh-covered skin.
“Would you do that?” You bring your lips to his, and he immediately responds to the kiss. You also remove his black turtleneck sweater to reveal his toned, muscular torso. An adventurous hand glides over his chest, making him groan slightly, and then stops at his lower abdomen where a vein runs lower down. You place a kiss there with a small, sly smile.
For the first time, you’re about to make love with someone.
“Hmm? Satoru? Have you ever thought of me in outfits like this?” Your nimble fingers unbutton his pants, revealing a prominent bulge in his fly.
“Sweetheart, don’t—” he hisses between his teeth from the sensation of the slight friction between his erection and your eager fingers as they pull down his pants to caress and rub his dick through the thin fabric of his boxer. “Your hands feel so good…” He breathes softly, his hands stroking your bare arms with a feather-light touch.
“Answer my question…” you purr, your nails pulling at the underwear to free his hard, twitching cock. The tip is perfectly reddened, with veins coursing along its pale length of 8 inches. Almost automatically, your mouth waters, and you waste no time kissing the slit of his already glistening tip with pre.
“Babe, don’t tease…” Satoru closes his eyes and lets your hand wrap around his length, begging to be touched. “F-fuck— Yes, yes, I’ve thought about it, about buying you the most expensive and luxurious lingerie— ah!” he almost whimpers. You take a little over 2 inches of him into your mouth to stroke the base. “But also in those maternity clothes— oh god… C-can you really blame me?” He rolls his eyes and can’t help but buck his hips toward you, his body pleading for your mouth to take care of him.
You withdraw his cock from your mouth to whisper, “So you’re a naughty boy, hmm?”
“I won’t last if you keep this up— hgnn…” he whimpers completely, his dick splitting your mouth in two as you take him all in. Your head starts to bob back and forth, and he is so close that he spills moans of your name. “G’nna cum, baby, don’t—”
You hollow your cheeks, and the next moment, he cums in your mouth, long, thick ropes of his release filling your already full mouth with his shaft. You hum under his orgasm and swallow slowly. You slide his dick out of your mouth with the same rhythm to smile at a Satoru with ears as red as his cheeks.
“F-fuck, sweetheart,” he pants, his calloused finger wiping away the mixed cord of your saliva and his cum with a swipe of his thumb.
“M-hmm… You taste so sweet…” He doesn’t let you continue and crushes his lips against yours, tasting himself on your mouth. “I want you, Satoru…”
“I’m yours, princess.” He helps you quickly remove your remaining underwear so that you’re completely naked in front of him, knees resting on the expensive mattress. He kneels at the foot of the bed, and his fingers explore your sensitive, already dripping cunt.
“So wet for me… Did I do this to you just with my cock?” His fingers spread your swollen folds to gather your fluids and rub your throbbing, needy clit.
Your nails dig into his arm as you lift your hips under the sharp pleasure. “Satoru, it feels good…” you gasp in a whimper. His forefinger and middle finger spread your wetness all around your intimacy. “Please don’t tease…”
“Not tease? Weren’t you doing it, sweetheart? What a nerve,” Satoru scoffs, tapping his finger at your entrance. “Can I?”
“Please…” You wince as you move your hips down for more. And that’s exactly what he does, immediately inserting his finger into you, cursing.
“You’re so fucking tight… and so wet,” he curses, his finger moving in and out of you with careful softness. “I can already fuck you without making you cum first.” He stops finger-fucking you and looks up at you. “Is that what you want, love?”
You nod before arching your back on the bed. Satoru climbs onto the mattress and helps you wrap your legs around him. “That’s it…” He takes his length in his hand and teases your responsive cunt with the tip to get it wetter.
“Don’t tease, Toru, I swear…” And he smirks.
“Toru?”
“Sorry, I—”
His tip presses against your tight, pulsing entrance, and he grins. “I want you to moan that nickname while I fuck you, ’kay?” He grips your hips to pull you closer to him, and with one swift movement, he slides into you, a groan escaping from behind his lips as your deliciously tight, warm, gummy walls wrap around him as if you were meant for him.
The stretch causes a slight discomfort at first, and you almost cry in relief when Satoru notices. He patiently waits for you to adjust before starting a slow, deep rhythm inside you.
You widen your lustful eyes, tears forming at their corners. “Ah! Toru… Jus’ like that…” Your eyes roll back as the tip of Satoru’s dick hits the back of your cervix, making you shiver and tighten around him. “Fuck… s’deep…”
“So fucking perfect, so fucking mine,” Satoru groans, his hips rocking into you without ceasing to swell between your gummy walls. His chest rises and falls in a breath as ragged as yours, asking for more every time you moan for him to go deeper. (He discreetly rolls his eyes and babbles incomprehensible words — completely pussy drunk.)
And that’s exactly what he does. He slams back in brutally, making you cry out his name with each thrust. “Shhh… You don’t want Hina to hear us, right? So keep quiet, baby…” He helps stifle your gasps and moans of pleasure by capturing your lips with his, alternating between fast, rough thrusts and slow, gentle ones in your hole that he fucks shamelessly.
Blood rushes to your ears, a rare sensation you haven’t truly felt the last time you were with someone. It wasn’t just about carnal pleasure between Satoru and you — but about love. The fusion of bodies loving each other and providing mutual pleasure, even as they burn for each other— physically and emotionally.
One of Satoru’s hands slowly slides to one of your breasts and teases a sensitive nipple. The arch in your back encourages him to detach his mouth from yours to capture the other nipple with his wet lips. The growl he lets out sends a wave of intense shivers through you, making your eyes roll in overstimulation.
“P-please, Toru, please, I’m already close,” you whimper against your trembling palm — a feeble attempt to contain your sweet sounds as he speeds up his hip movements in your sloppy cunt — the sound of his balls slapping your skin filling the room. Your words are punctuated by the tightening of your walls around him, swearing he could cum inside you just from hearing you beg.
“Cum on my cock, baby, cover it,” he coos, giving another kiss to your abused chest. The clenching of your jaw with your teeth dug into your lower lip forces you to groan. “Want me to fill you up?” And you nod, tears showing your imminent orgasm. “Anything for you, my beautiful girl.” His hips slam against yours, and his fingers continue to tease your breast, rubbing your puffy clit.
Satoru’s own breath becomes heavier, more labored as he keeps singing praises while you gasp, his lips pressed along the line of kisses he’s placing down your jaw. “T-Toru, Toru, cumming!” you cry out as your walls spasm around his cock while he reaches his peak and fills you with his hot, liquid release, warming your lower abdomen. You see blinding stars illuminating your vision.
He hisses almost gutturally, his nails digging into the flesh of your hips. “Oh god… S-Squeezing me while I’m cumming too…” He closes his eyes for a moment, letting his peak subside at the same rhythm as yours, his forehead damp with sweat resting against your chest.
Only pants and groans escape your lips, each one accompanied by difficult swallows and the feeling of your sweaty bodies pressed against each other.
“How was it? Did I make you feel good?” Satoru asks immediately, once his breath has returned.
The concerned questions touch your heart so deeply that you lift tearful eyes to him. “Are you going to leave, after this?”
His expression falters, and he gently withdraws from you to envelop you in his embrace. “No, baby, of course not… I won’t, I swear on my life I won’t leave you… I’m not him. I’m the one who hopes you won’t leave…” he whispers hurriedly. “Don’t think about that. I’ll always be here, for you and for Hina…”
You sniffle, your eyes red. But Satoru smiles tenderly, wiping away your hot tears. “Save your tears for later, sweetheart.”
“Why?” You clear your throat.
He sighs, the aftermath of the effort from the activity settling on him, and places a chaste kiss on your sweaty temple. “Did I tell you that my father invited us to dinner tomorrow night?”
“No,” you shake your head, “but what’s the link?”
“Don’t you understand?” he murmurs in your ear, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll understand in time.”
°°°°
“I see. So it was an unexpected encounter.” Gojo’s father nods, shrugging his shoulders. “But I wonder how a woman like you can have feelings for such a fool…”
Satoru chokes on a piece of meat he’s chewing and takes a sip of his water. You stifle a giggle, with some steamed vegetables speared on your fork, just waiting for you to devour them. For a man who appears so stern and strict, Mr. Gojo is quite a wealthy man who spends his days reprimanding his son for not doing this or that.
Yet, there’s a certain paternal camaraderie between them — a father-son relationship, if you will.
“That’s not true,” Satoru retorts, his voice still gravelly. He has an adorable pout on his lips, like a child wrongly scolded.
“Yes, like you’re not a womanizer,” his father retorts, rolling his eyes.
“It was so you’d leave me alone,” with furrowed brows, he wears a mischievous smile at his father’s incredulous expression, “but sweetheart came into my life,” he continues, looking at you with a tenderness he has rarely shown.
“I hope you manage to put up with him until… well, until you decide to marry — if that’s what you choose,” his father sighs, turning his attention back to the dish in front of him.
“Satoru isn’t a bad person, you know,” you start gently. “He is certainly a thoughtless brat with grotesque immaturity,” Satoru almost spits out his water this time, and you continue with a wry smile, “but he has a great sense of attention and unmatched generosity. I believe he will be a good husband, I assure you.”
“I must admit,” he says with a wise smile, his wrinkles less pronounced.
Satoru casually says your name, “Yeah, yeah… By the way, could you pass me the salt, please?”
You freeze, while Satoru’s father suddenly looks up with an incredulous expression. “Who?”
And you smack your forehead with the palm of your hand.
°°°°
The cries of a newborn fill the room as, breathless and on the verge of fainting, the midwives congratulate you, bringing your second child wrapped in clean blankets at your request.
“He’s beautiful…” Satoru murmurs as he approaches you, leaning down to the tiny baby with his albino hair and blue eyes — his exact likeness. “Thank you, my love, thank you, thank you, thank you…” His voice breaks as you raise a weak, exhausted hand toward him, but with a serene smile on your lips as you whisper how much you love each other.
He immediately wraps his fingers around yours, your wedding rings sparkling as they brush together like stars sealed for eternity.
✧ a/n: how i love desperate men, hihi! 🤭 hope you all enjoyed this one-shot!
WHY DO PEOPLE MAKE CHARACTERS X OCS BUT TAG IT X READER, LIKE WHAT OR WHEN THEY DONT PUT “ character x oc” THEY JUST PUT “character x reader” and I find out their name is fucking Stella lionheart that has fifty superpowers and farts out pink clouds, like guys what 😭pls just put oc it’s not that hard
