you step out of the dressing room, and, just like always, you are absolutely radiant. the room, once illuminated by the dim, warm ceiling lights is now practically shining with your natural glow.
the white dress is absolutely gorgeous on you. it hugs your frame deliciously, and satoru is weak — his eyes, hidden like a coward behind those dark glasses, trace the curve of your waist, the roundness of your chest and hips, the dip in your shoulders.
ethereal.
it’s as if it was made just for you. the material, the dye, the seamstress, the fashion designer — they must have had you in mind when they created this, because it suits no one else. no one will ever be able to pull off such a dress, not in a million years.
“uh, satoru?” oh, shit.
he blinks, then coughs, a huge grin spreading across his face. he hopes you don’t notice how pink his ears are. “i was payin’ attention, i swear! you look good– stunning, really.”
your lips, so soft and kissable-looking, curve up into a smile. “you just blanked out on me. if you don’t like the dress, you can just say that, y’know...” there’s a teasing lilt in your voice, and his ears burn just a bit hotter.
satoru quickly shakes his head, and he places his hands on your shoulders. your skin is warm, like it’s been kissed personally by the sun. “no, no! i love it. it suits you, and it’s your wedding, so it’s up to you.”
envy, a rare but absolutely repulsive feeling, curls up in his gut and ties it into knots. right. this is your wedding. you and nanami.
not him.
he steps back and filters you out of his infinity. he should remember his place.
you twist side to side, the expensive fabric swishing and dragging against the polished floors. “i know, but... you’re my best friend, and i really want this to be perfect. ken-ken–” (he knows you and nanami are well-beyond first-name basis by now, but the nickname catches him off-guard.) “–would likely think any dress i choose looks nice, but you’re a pretty harsh critic! remember when i went on a date for the first time and i had on that hideous dress with the bad zipper?”
“yeah.” he snorts, and some of the envy ebbs away, replaced by a warm fuzziness. his fingers were trembling trying to zip up the back of that dress, just for the thing to be broken. “you looked fucking ridiculous.”
“see? that’s my point right there!”
“you make me sound so mean.” satoru huffs, slapping a hand dramatically to his chest. “i’m a great guy! a perfect one!”
perfect for you.
you scoff, lifting the dress up a bit so you can easily walk over to your purse and find your phone. “mhm, sure. i’ll believe that when i attend your wedding next time.”
satoru slumps down on the loveseat, crossing one long leg over the other. “don’t need a wedding to prove i’m irresistible,” he grumbles.
out of the corner of his eye, he watches your fingers fly across the screen, and that small, adorable smile on your face tells him exactly who you’re texting.
and envy comes right back, bubbling up and settling in his throat, hot and acidic.
he’s right here. this is supposed to be about you and satoru. kento can wait. you see him when you go home, don’t you? in a few weeks, you’re going to spend the rest of your life with that man — can’t you make time for just your best friend?
“you telling nanami about the dress?” if you weren’t so absorbed in your phone, you might have noticed the strain in satoru’s voice.
you nod. “yeah, i wanna take a picture for him,” you say, going over to him. instinctively, you shift closer to him, already holding your phone up to take a photo, but you can feel his infinity pulsing against your side.
huh.
your brows knit together. “your infinity is on.”
“it’s always on.” he shrugs, as if him having his infinity up around his purpose in life is absolutely normal.
your hand moves to swat at his arm, only for it to press against the border of atoms. awkwardly, your hand falls limp into your lap. “yeah, but usually i don’t feel it.” a pause. “is everything okay? are you sick? if you wanna leave, we can, dress shopping can wait.”
the genuine concern in your tone strikes satoru right in the heart, and he swears it stops beating for a moment. he’s being an asshole, you didn’t do anything wrong. why is he pushing you away? how does he stop?
“... sorry.” he wraps an arm around your shoulders, yanking you in closer. your shoulder rests against his bicep, and the sides of both your thighs touch.
the gentle, refreshing smell of your perfume wafts into his nose. his eyes dart to the crook of your neck, where he knows it’ll be strongest.
“pose!” you nudge him, and he looks at the camera, an easy smile curving his lips. satoru’s glad for his glasses again — nanami won’t be able to see the lust in his eyes.
man idk ill lock in on this later
one-hundred forty-one. satoru picks another skull up, places it between both of his hands, and crushes it into dust. one-hundred forty-two.
he’s sorry, by the way. you’ll never know it, but he is.
the wedding was supposed to be last month. it’s been two weeks, four days, seven hours, thirty-six minutes, and twelve seconds. thirteen, since he’s been sealed in this box.
he isn’t going to sit here and mope about that... imposter getting one over on him. he’s done that enough, and he’s absolutely sure you’d make fun of him.
satoru was best-man. he was supposed to be by nanami’s side and congratulate both of you. itadori, megumi, kugisaki... they were supposed to be there, too. kugisaki as the flower girl, megumi as the ring-bearer, and itadori to play cheerleader.
it was supposed to be great.
but he didn’t go. couldn’t make the flight, because of course curse users decided to stir shit up the night he planned to leave.
that’s another reason for him to hate them. they’re always ruining the things he loves, taking and taking and taking–
one-hundred forty-three.
he’s running out of skulls to crush, and he’s already worked out for the day. it’s weird in here – after all the sweating he’s done, oddly enough, he doesn’t stink.
satoru sighs, laying flat on his back, bright eyes staring up into the void. do you hate him? you should.
he’s not a good person. he wanted– wants you, even after you and nanami started dating. even after the engagement. and, now, even after marriage. who yearns for something they can’t have? that’s pathetic!
but... forgive him, please.
forgive him for not attending your wedding, for not confessing sooner, for not sweeping you off your feet first, for not keeping his eyes and hands to himself.
satoru gojo loves you. always and forevermore. and he’s sorry.
satoru’s fingers dig into the squishy flesh of your cheeks, holding your face still. “quit moving.”
he smirks at your irritated huff, but you stay in place as he pops a blue raspberry jolly rancher into his mouth. the hard candy begins to melt in the heat of his mouth, saliva making it all glossy and sticky.
slowly, but definitely surely, judging by how hot both of your faces grow, satoru’s lips inch closer to yours until you can taste the sugary remnants of the candy.
his tongue darts out, gently licking your bottom lip, and he raises his eyebrows. the ball is in your court now.
a tiny part of you is scrunching its nose at this. this is disgusting. satoru is feeding you a piece of candy like you two are penguins, and you know this is gonna involve a lot of blue spit.
his words echo in your mind, shushing that little judgemental voice. “aw, c’mon. it’s no different than making out, honeybun.”
so, you swallow past the lump in your throat and part your lips, allowing your boyfriend to push the melting jolly rancher into your mouth with his tongue.
like expected, it’s wet, soaked with your boyfriend’s spit, but it tastes... sweeter, almost. like he’s blessed it, somehow.
you hum, and satoru leans back, those big, bright cerulean eyes tracking every twitch in your expression. are you disgusted? annoyed? did you enjoy it? you’ve always been hard to read, an aspect he both admires and struggles with.
he hears the faint crunch of you chewing the hard candy down. you didn’t spit it out, so...
“ya liked it?”
please tell me you liked it.
satoru might finally put himself in that grave he’s long since dug if you hate this.
he watches your throat bob a bit once you swallow, and then you nod. “kinda weird, though,” you grumble.
his smirks widen into that familiar triumphant grin. “i knew you’d like it! and it’s ‘posed to be weird, baby, that’s the point.”
two: it's clearly a last minute plan, otherwise as soon as gojo died yuuta woulda just body swapped instead of getting into battle himself
"yuta only sees gojo as a weapon, geto doesn't!1!"
one: yes, geto stray
two: refer to my earlier point two
third: that's completely false n y'all know it. that was his family, and gojo&yuutas bond transcends just sorcery
y'all niggas don't read shit, then call it bad writing. im not saying it's Shakespeare or sum shit, but it's not god awful and horrific writing either. gege literally explained what went down pre body swap.
if somebody is a predator on here or has done some fucked up shit, pls quit tryna gatekeep ts 😐
they shouldn't get the luxury of anonymity if they're a pedophile and y'all stay tryna be slick with it
"oh they got exposed for some stuff" what the fuck is some stuff? did they dog die? were they racist? u can't be vague w this kinda shit and then use words like "expose" 😭😭 like it has to be serious enough for them to get exposed and then deactivate
n what pmo the most is that stupid ass "I'll say in dms" no brotha say HERE!! make a call out post or something bc if they r genuinely a bad person and/or has done some fucked up shit then they need to be publicly called out for it, why the hell are y'all protecting their identity?
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