-> Hello everyone and welcome to another rising sign predictions! remember to take it with a grain of salt and to enjoy the reading! this is based on tropical astrology! for personal readings (tarot, astrology, rune, psychology) please contact me at: [email protected]
˙ ✩🫧°🪼˖⋆🌊｡˚꩜˙ ✩🫧°🪼˖⋆🌊｡˚꩜˙ ✩🫧°🪼˖⋆🌊｡˚꩜˙ ✩🫧°🪼˖⋆🌊｡˚
🌀 Aries
With Mercury moving direct through your 4th house for most of June, home, family matters, emotional security and your inner world become major themes. Conversations that felt unresolved may finally move forward, and you could feel more mentally clear about where and with whom you truly belong. There’s a sense of making the house feel like home as well, it’s also a good time to be around your family. By the 29th, Mercury retrograde may bring old family dynamics, memories, or housing concerns back for review. Avoid rushing decisions connected to living situations at the very end of the month. This also means that there might be some arguments coming out though i believe that will mostly hit on july
Venus and Jupiter (by the end of the month) are lighting up your 5th house which creates one of the sweetest energies of the month for romance, creativity, joy and self-expression. This is a beautiful period for dating, artistic projects, reconnecting with hobbies, or allowing yourself to experience pleasure more freely. Attention and admiration may naturally come your way. It’s a good moment to have children or purpose to the person you love! (especially in july!)
Chiron will be in the 2nd house which continues healing themes around self-worth, money, and feeling “good enough” which I believe is something you might have been struggling with for the past weeks. June may show you where you still undervalue yourself but also where real confidence is beginning to grow. do not spend unnecessarily.
Mars moving between your 2nd and 3rd houses by the end of the month so it will push you to speak up about your needs and pursue financial goals more aggressively. Be mindful of impulsive spending or sharp communication, especially also due to chiron. Your words carry extra heat this month as well, which makes sense about the arguments within the family specter by the end of the month and july.
💙 Taurus
For june, your Mercury will be in your 3rd house so what can you expect? Well, it will sharpen your mind and increase communication, planning, networking, and movement throughout June. Expect important conversations, messages, short trips, or moments of realization which can make you a little emotional due to cancer energy. However, once Mercury retrogrades near the 29th, misunderstandings or delays could arise especially involving texts, travel plans, siblings, or contracts which again, might put you in a very sensitive spot (let me warn you, July will be a ride for you). Double-check details at month’s end, that’s an advice.
Venus in your 4th house brings warmth and expansion into your home life, so a little like aries, it’s also a good month to expand the family (aka have children if you want them, or even a pet). You may feel drawn to redecorate your space, reconnect with family, spend more time resting, or create a safer emotional environment for yourself. There’s strong energy for emotional healing and feeling more supported. Jupiter will move there on the 30th so in july it will be enhanced.
for you taurus, Chiron is in your 1st house makes this a deeply personal growth period. Old insecurities about identity, appearance, or confidence may surface so you might struggle a little with self image and self worth. Remember this is not to punish you, but to help you evolve. June encourages self-acceptance over perfection, so be kinder to yourself and careful with how you deal with over indulgences (food, spending, ect)
Finally, mars will be activating your 1st and 2nd houses throughout the month, giving you drive, ambition, and stronger personal magnetism, so people might feel attracted to you, might be flirty and just try to be near you. You may feel more assertive and motivated to improve your finances or personal image. Just watch impatience and emotional reactivity.
🔵 Gemini
Okay so for you gemini, Mercury direct in your 2nd house focuses your attention on money, stability, priorities, and self-worth but I feel like there’s something related to family around as well. June will be excellent for organizing finances, negotiating, budgeting, or gaining clarity about what truly matters to you. Near the 29th, Mercury retrogrades so well, in that moment and going through july you will have to deal with slow payments, there will be confusion around purchases, or you might find yourself rethinking about financial decisions
Now into Venus (keep in mind Jupiter will enter the same house by the 30th so this is also a preview for july) is blessing your 3rd house, which makes this an especially social, mentally stimulating and creatively expressive month. Your charm shines through communication. Writing, social media, learning, flirting, networking, and reconnecting with people can flow very naturally now so enjoy the energy! You may receive good news or exciting invitations as well
Now into more serious terms, your Chiron will be in the 12th house so it’s an intense month when it comes to mental health and your inner self. There's still a lot to heal here. June may bring moments where you question yourself but also moments where you realize how much stronger you have become.
Mars will be moving between your 12st and 1st houses which increases ambition and determination. Though the first part of the month will still be a little confusing for you and very emotional, since you are struggling with mental health. You’ll likely feel more driven to prove yourself or pursue independence from someone or from something. Be careful not to tie your value too closely to productivity or financial success.
🩵 Cancer
Hello cancer! okay so for you, Mercury will be in your 1st house so it seems like you have a stronger voice and clearer sense of direction throughout most of June. You may feel more expressive, decisive and mentally energized as well. Others are more likely to notice your opinions and presence now. But once Mercury retrogrades near the 29th, well you will be struggling with self-doubt, confusion and second-guessing which will make you rather emotional. Slow down before making major personal decisions at the end of the month.
(Jupiter is entering 2nd too at the end of the month so this will be amplified in July): Venus is in your 2nd house so indeed you will have quite some supportive energy around finances, self-esteem, comfort, and material stability. Opportunities for income growth, gifts and iimproved confidence may appear. This month encourages you to recognize your value and stop settling for less!!!! so listen to it!!!
Chiron, our planet of healing, is in the 11th house and may reveal wounds connected to friendships, belonging and feeling understood within groups so there might be some conflicts around or this might be something that just gets you a little emotional. You could reevaluate certain social connections and become more aware of who genuinely supports your growth.
and finally Mars is moving through your 11th and 12th houses which creates a mix of social intensity and hidden emotional tension within June. You may feel highly motivated around goals and friendships one moment, then exhausted or withdrawn the next. Rest is essential this month so you don’t feel burnout. Hidden frustrations could surface if ignored too long so please listen to your body!
🪼 Leo
hello my fellow leos, let’s go for the suffering. Mercury will be moving direct through our 12th house (we sigh), which makes June feel deeply introspective, emotional, and spiritually charged so if you have been crying lately well guess what! it gets worse. Anyways, you may crave more solitude, rest, or time away from overwhelming environments. Hidden thoughts and subconscious patterns become louder now, helping you process emotions you may have ignored for too long. By the 29th, Mercury retrograde can intensify nostalgia, vivid dreams and unresolved emotional situations from the past. Protect your energy and avoid overthinking because else, we suffer
Venus at least is in our 1st house which gives us an undeniable glow this month. our presence feels softer, more magnetic, and more attractive to others so we might be flirted with. This is a beautiful time for confidence, self-love, style changes, social attention, and new beginnings. People are naturally drawn toward your energy now and guess what Jupiter entering there on the 30th so summer will be our moment.
when it comes to Chiron it will be in the 10th house so we might have to deal with insecurities around success, recognition, or career direction mostly, like we do not feel appreciated or complete. You could question whether you’re truly “doing enough” but June wants you to heal your relationship with achievement and public validation.
Mars moves between our 10th and 11th houses throughout the month so it pushes ambition to the forefront. Career goals, networking, collaborations, and future plans gain momentum quickly so that can be a positive thing (we are sad but rich). Just be careful not to burn yourself out trying to prove yourself to everyone.
💠 Virgo
when it comes for you virgo, Mercury direct will hit your 11th house which then highlights friendships, social life, networking, and long-term goals as a whole. June brings important conversations within your circles and may reconnect you with people who inspire your future vision. Toward the 29th, Mercury retrograde could create misunderstandings in friendships or delays involving plans, communities, or online communication so you might keep an eye on that. Some social connections may need reevaluation.
Venus is in your 12th house. In this case there’s a quieter, softer energy around love and emotions but also a lot of introspection and some of you might feel lonely even if you are in a relationship. This can be a deeply healing month emotionally tho also spiritually and romantically. Private relationships, secret feelings, or strong intuition may become important themes. You may feel more sensitive than usual and need extra rest. Also this is going to be a theme for the whole summer
Chiron hitting the 9th house so it will obviously be challenging old beliefs, fears around the future, or wounds connected to education, travel, spirituality, or feeling “lost” in life direction, because I do feel like you lack direction. June asks you to trust that growth does not require having every answer immediately, and to take your time with things.
and for last, Mars is moving through your 9th and 10th houses by the end of the month so you can expect an increased motivation around career, studies, travel, or personal expansion. You may feel restless and eager to move forward professionally as well. Just avoid conflicts with authority figures or acting impulsively in important decisions because that can be quite a downfall or bring issues.
🧿 Libra
Mercury will be direct in your 10th house Libra, so for you this means a place of a strong focus on career, reputation, responsibilities, and long-term goals depending on where you are. expect important conversations regarding work or public image which may move forward this month. You could feel mentally focused on success and future planning as well. By the 29th, Mercury retrograde may bring delays, misunderstandings, or second thoughts connected to professional matters and probably some issues in work. Avoid rushing major career decisions late in the month and this is also valuable for july.
Remember jupiter will amplify this by the end of the month. Venus is in your 11th house which bring blessings through friendships, networking, collaborations, and community and it’s a wonderful time to start dating or simply flirting. This is an excellent month for meeting supportive people, growing online visibility, or feeling more connected socially. Dreams and future goals may suddenly feel more achievable.
The 8th house will come into your Chiron so it brings deeper emotional healing around trust, vulnerability, intimacy, shared finances, or emotional control as well, however for some of you it also means having to deal with feelings of loss and grief. June may expose fears you usually keep hidden but it also gives you opportunities to transform them so take it forward.
Finally, when it comes to mars it is moving between your 8th and 9th houses by the end of june, so it intensifies emotional depth and desire for truth. You may become more passionate about personal beliefs, travel plans, learning, or emotional connections so take that advantage. Be careful of emotional extremes or power struggles which can bring you some issues.
🌊 Scorpio
Hello Scorpio and welcome to learn about your Mercury direct in your 9th house in june, which will expand your mind and encourage growth through learning, travel, spirituality, or new perspectives also it’s a good omen for those doing exams and studies. June may bring exciting ideas, plans for the future, or important realizations about where your life is heading. By the 29th, Mercury retrograde may slow travel plans or create confusion around studies, legal matters, or long-distance communication so you might take things slower by then. Stay flexible with changing plans.
When it comes to Venus it will be in your 10th house which places a major spotlight on career, recognition, and public image and you might have some looks from coworkers as well. This is one of the strongest placements for professional growth, visibility, and attracting opportunities so take that chance. Also others may see you more positively now, and your efforts can gain recognition more easily. Jupiter will enter the same house as well by the end of the month, so July will truly be such a good month for work and involvement in that area! especially if you want to find a job, or if you are thinking of opening your own company, etc.
However, you will have a Chiron in the 7th house so it highlights healing within relationships. Old wounds involving trust, rejection, imbalance, or emotional dependence could surface in partnerships and for some of you it can also mean breakups or love being unrequited. June asks you to build healthier dynamics instead of repeating painful patterns.
and finally, Mars moving through your 7th and 8th houses so in june it will add intensity to emotional and romantic connections. It's a nice month to get in a relationship, develop the ones you have and I feel like many will have a strong livido as well. Passion runs high, but so can conflict if frustrations stay unspoken. Honest communication becomes essential this month.
💎 Sagittarius
hello sags, well this is quite a month to be honest. Mercury is moving direct through your 8th house which makes June emotionally intense, transformative, and deeply reflective and you might find yourself thinking a lot about the people or the things that you have lost. There might be conversations around intimacy (which btw some might have a high libido this month), trust, shared finances, or emotional vulnerability may finally gain clarity. You could uncover hidden truths either about yourself or others so keep an eye open on that. By the 29th, Mercury retrograde may reopen unresolved emotional matters, financial complications and past connections that still carry emotional weight.
Now when it comes to Venus (and keep in mind this will be intensified by the end of the month with jupiter) in your 9th house it will bring expansion, hope, and a desire for something bigger. This is a beautiful month for travel, learning, spirituality, creative inspiration, or connecting with people from different backgrounds. Your mindset becomes lighter and more optimistic after periods of emotional heaviness.
6th house coming into your chiron and therefore it highlights healing around routines, work, productivity, and physical well-being. June may show where burnout, self-criticism, or unhealthy habits need attention. Small daily changes can have a powerful emotional effect now. Also when it comes to your health, you might look out for areas around your throat, thyroid, voice and also eating patterns.
Mars is moving between your 6th and 7th houses which increases pressure in work and relationships and though there’s possibility for some of you to get into a relationship (also the health i commented on chiron is also expended here). also tension can rise quickly if responsibilities feel uneven. However, this energy can also motivate healthier boundaries and more direct communication in partnerships.
❄️ Capricorn
okay baby capricorns, let’s go into it. for you, Mercury direct is in your 7th house so it puts relationships and communication with others at the center of June. Important conversations in love, friendships, or business partnerships may move forward with more clarity (also you can develop crushes or start dating depending on everyone). You’ll likely think more deeply about balance, commitment, and what you truly need from others. By the 29th, Mercury retrograde may bring misunderstandings, reconnections, or unresolved relationship dynamics back for review and for some people some breakups.
when it comes to you, Venus it will be your 8th house thus it create intense emotional and romantic energy and well your libido is higgggh. Deep bonds can strengthen now, and intimacy may feel more meaningful than surface-level connections. Also for some of you I see financial support, emotional healing and transformative experiences that may also appear unexpectedly.
now about Chiron, it is in the 5th house that touches wounds connected to self-expression, romance, creativity, or feeling truly seen. June asks you to reconnect with joy without fear of rejection or judgment and also to heal from past disappointments.
and for last, Mars will be moving through your 5th and 6th houses in this month, which means for you that there will be an increase of passion, creativity, and productivity but of course, also a bunch of stress. You may throw yourself intensely into work, romance, or personal projects. Be careful not to overextend yourself emotionally or physically and also when it comes to your health, you might look out for pains or issues related to your lungs, breathing, hands, arms and shoulders.
🫐 Aquarius
June for aquarius rising will be all about having Mercury direct in your 6th house so it kinds of places focus on work, organization, health, and everyday responsibilities. So by the way, when it comes to health, it will mostly be your emotional and mental one being impacted. June is ideal for restructuring routines, improving productivity, and getting mentally clearer about your priorities. By the 29th, Mercury retrograde may create delays, scheduling confusion and the need to revisit unfinished tasks. Slow down and avoid burnout. It's for the best.
Venus and Jupiter (this one only by the end of the month and more influential in july) will be in your 7th house and brings supportive, loving, and expansive energy into relationships. Partnerships can feel more harmonious now, and this is one of the strongest placements for attraction, reconciliation, collaboration, or emotional support from others, so hey, single people are in a good moment to fall in love and get into relationships. Also in that same entry, healthy relationships may flourish beautifully this month.
when it comes to Chiron, it will be in the 4th house so it brings healing themes around family, home life, emotional security and childhood wounds but for some of you it also can show some arguments in those areas instead of healing. June may stir old emotions, but also offers opportunities to build stronger emotional foundations.
and it ends up with Mars moving between your 4th and 5th houses so for you this mostly means an emotional intensity to both home and romance. Family tensions may surface quickly also due to chiron influence, but so can creative inspiration and passion. You may feel protective over your emotional space while also craving excitement and affection.
🎐 Pisces
and finally for pisces, you will have your Mercury direct in your 5th house so what can you expect for your June? well, mentally creative, expressive, and emotionally vibrant. You may feel more inspired to flirt, create, share ideas, or reconnect with passions that bring genuine happiness. Communication in romance may feel easier and more playful. By the 29th, Mercury retrograde could bring back old crushes, unfinished creative projects, or second thoughts about romantic situations.
Keep in mind this will be amplified by Jupiter at the end of the month + july. Venus will be in your 6th house encouraging healing through routine, self-care, and improving your daily life. Work environments may become more pleasant, and you may feel motivated to prioritize health, balance, and stability. Small habits bring surprisingly positive results now. however!! be careful with your health, look out for issues around your heart, blood pressure, chest and even hair.
Chiron is in the 3rd house and highlights healing around communication, self-expression, or feeling heard so this might be quite nice though you might feel overwhelmed and overthink a lot as well. June may challenge you to speak more honestly and stop minimizing your thoughts or emotions.
and finally, Mars is moving through your 3rd and 4th houses so in this case it will be an increased mental activity and emotional reactivity. Also I feel like you can have conversations that can become heated quickly, especially within family dynamics. Be mindful of impulsive words, but use this energy to express what has been suppressed.
in another life, i would make you stay a gojo satoru (fix it) series
pairing ⸺ reincarnated!gojo x reincarnated!reader
summary ⸺ you are a sorcerer, married to your husband who bears the burden of being the strongest. firsthand, you watch the love of your life fall apart, the world burdening him until, finally, he dies at the hand of sukuna. as you watch him through the broadcast, you blankly volunteer to be nextand you die, praying to whatever merciful god out there that, in another life, you and satoru get the happy ending you both deserved—
until you wake up from your dream, gasping.why the hell was your dream so vivid? you were some sort of magician? with a smoking HOT husband? and why the fuck does the guy that's ten minutes late to the first day of lectures look EXACTLY like him?
warnings ⸺eventual smut fluff and angst (the holy trinity), hurt/comfort, reincarnation fic, basically you and gojo have a miserable life in canon and get reincarnated into a modern au where i fix everything and give you the romcom you deserve, canon typical violence, jjk manga spoilers, mentions of blood and injury, major character death, fem reader implied
masterlist
01 ⸺ What a Weird Fucking Dream
the first day of your semester is precendeted by a very odd dream involving sorcerers and a hot ass husband. which you then see in lecture (3.7k)
02 ⸺ Note to Self: Don't Call Random Guys your Husband (soon!)
summary: Years passed since you saw Satoru Gojo in your life — your situationship, who slipped away from your life like nothing had happened. Like you were nothing to him. Or, maybe, on the contrary, and you were his everything? What would happen if you suddenly met him at your flower shop?
tags: mdni! situationships, exes to lovers, reconciliation, some angst, some fluff, mutual pining, YEARNING, like A LOT. you fell first, he fell harder and it drove him crazy. panic attacks, floristry, some themes about rediscovering your life passion, the reader is kinda insecure. eventual smut: dry humping, fingering, emotional sex, a little bit of size kink, creampie, oral sex (f receiving).
word count: this part is 12.5k. total: 35k (bear with me here...).
author's note: this is officially the biggest thing i have ever written! and my first time ever writing smut. you've been warned. it should've been one post but tumblr's limits...art by @/boom_sate225. dividers are mine.
you might like listening to the playlist
part 2
This day started as usual.
Your phone alarm rang sharply at 6 a.m., jolting you awake. With a groan, you tapped to hold it and rolled over to have the last minutes of peace and serenity. The bed was warm, the pillow was comfortable, the blanket embraced you in the softest of hugs… Slowly, you drifted to sleep once again.
Only to hastily scramble to get ready an hour later.
"Shit, shit, shit," you cursed under your breath, trying to pull your pants on. A glance at the clock — 7:30; you must've been the fastest person in the world at that moment— totally a record.
Miraculously, you still had time to stop by your favourite bakery, which conveniently hid between the stalls with flowers and newspapers, to grab a coffee and a pastry. The street bustled with people at that hour: one man barked orders into his phone, with another gentleman, probably his assistant, hurriedly trying to keep up with the boss's pace. A pile of files in his arms dangerously leaned toward the ground.
Poor guy.
Your polished shoes clicked on the pavement, each step dripping with determination as you hurried to the bakery. You could’ve smelled its tantalizing scents even from a distance — cinnamon, cardamom, vanilla, and chocolate intertwining in a mouth-watering mix.
"Slept in, huh?" A barista, a tall guy with soft eyes and kind of a weird hairstyle of ponytails, observed you quietly and handed your order: a hot bumble with caramel syrup and a ham-and-cheese croissant. Your stomach growled at the scent of the pastry, and you gave the guy a quick smile. If you remembered it right, his name was Choso.
"Kind of, yeah," you swiped the card and quickly grabbed your order before you would drop dead to the overwhelming delicious scents in the bakery. You almost downed the drink in a few large gulps. "Thanks and bye!"
"Have a nice day, miss!"
You sped up to hop in your bus, the one that left the station at 7:35 sharply and arrived at your work exactly at 7:57.
“Sorry,” you murmured apologetically as you bumped into one lady, who only huffed in irritation, without sparing you a single glance. You fought the urge to grimace at her.
Slowly, you made your way to a lone window seat that wasn’t usually occupied at this hour. Mentally, you had long ago declared it your own and would sigh inwardly if other passengers, obviously, not aware of your claim, sat there.
This time, luck was on your side. You quickly fished a book — something to kill time and occupy your mind, besides the usual routine you were clearly drowning in. Your grip on the book tightened: not the best time to delve into and psychoanalyze your life as you tried to lose yourself in yet another magical fantasy world…
“Oh no, my fair lady,” a mysterious knight’s voice drawled, the voice muffled by a half-opened visor. Isabelle thought her heart almost jumped from her chest right into the knight’s hands. “I am here to rescue you.”
Isabelle could almost hear playfulness sipping in the knight’s tone, and it brought a quick grin on her face. Oh, her future husband would be enthralled when the morning would carry him the news about his precious wife-to-be, who would appear to be missing…”
You scoffed softly and reached for a pencil. Faint scribbles adorned the empty margins of the book, a carefully crafted tapestry of your thoughts and emotions.
“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure, if I were Isabelle, since…”
A sudden honk pulled you back to reality. The bus suddenly jerked forward again, and a string of muttered curses from other passengers wafted to you through the irritated crowd. Someone bumped into you, causing the pencil to fall from your grip.
“Ah, shoot it,” you huffed under your breath and bent over to take it back.
And then, as you looked up, you saw it.
A sudden flash of white hair.
Your insides got cold in an instant. The surrounding world ceased to exist around you for a moment or for a small eternity; you weren’t so sure. The pencil almost snapped in half in your hard grip as a thousand thoughts rushed through your anxious mind.
“What the hell is he doing there? He shouldn’t be there— no, he is not supposed to be there, in your city! You fled there, and he had the entire Tokyo! What if he saw you? Worse, what if he saw and now wants to talk to you? Shit, shit, shit!”
Your eyes nervously darted to the exit — only to see that the white hair was already missing. You blinked. Blinked again. No, not even a sight. You slumped in relief against the seat and closed your eyes.
What was going on with you, really? Is he the only man in the world with hair colour like this? Could’ve been some cosplayer! Yeah, that must be it!
Or not?...
Deep down, you knew the right answer. You could’ve recognized the silvery tone of his strands if you were a thousand miles away from him. You ran your fingers through them countless times, memorized the way they caught the moonlight and looked like spilt silver under your gentle touch.
With a long sigh, you put the book in a bag. The phone caught your eye, and you froze at the sight of the display.
8:17.
Memories engrossed your tired mind to the point you missed three stops.
“This day couldn’t get any worse,” you thought, rushing through the maze of irritated people, totally indifferent to your inner turmoil.
Oh, how wrong was that.
***
Flowers had always brought you peace and serenity.
Ever since you were a kid, your mom’s garden welcomed you with a warm embrace, shielding you from the cold touch of reality. Nothing could hurt you there; a few scratches were a fair price for solitude and tranquillity. Sitting under sakuras, amidst the vivid blossoms of magnolias, peonies, and tulips, quietly observing the nature you were surrounded by, you had learnt to see beauty in every soft petal, dew drop on the branches, foggy morning mist, or sunrays, shyly sipping through the branches.
Or maybe you were just a lone kid with a good heart and rich fantasy, and that gave roots to your need for escapism. Who knows.
You would like to think you still carried that fragile ability to see something precious even in the most mundane things, but you knew nothing would be as breathtaking as it appeared in childhood. Adulthood had long sharpened and hardened you into someone a child you would hardly recognise.
Sometimes you wondered what she would say when you looked at her now?
Your hands were still covered in stitches, calluses bubbled on your fingers, and the dirt seemed to be permanently itched under your nails, but the excitement from your gaze had long given in to exhaustion.
When did a person lose the sparkle that once ignited their entire being? When adulthood falls so hard on your shoulders that you don't even have a chance to take a breath?
You had never thought you would be one of these gloomy people. Especially surrounded by the beauty of nature, as you wished for as a kid. But fate had other plans for you: the florist’s job found you in the middle of rediscovering yourself once again, rather than you finding it, and the rose-coloured naive dreams about designing bouquets, arrangements, and organising events quickly shattered, leaving invisible scars that later would scream of burnt-out.
Surely, amidst the usual routine, you found your own moments of enjoyment. Designing was your main passion, and seeing the fruits of your work, happy smiles and gratitudes from the customers, was worth scars, hurt knees, and sprained wrists. You were glad to bring people warmth and steadiness in the middle of the storm, which some events might look like. Shame the rest of the job was way more demanding, mentally and especially physically.
You were cauterizing stems, which actually was Nobara's work, but Utahime seemed so worked up that morning that you didn't dare to poke a dragon any more and decided to shield your friend from the boss's wrath. When Nobara sauntered inside the room, you gave her a glance, already preparing yourself for an inevitable round of investigation.
"So," she drawled with an all-knowing smile, a mischievous glint flashed in her eyes as she leaned on the table next to you. Still not touching the stems. "How was your date yesterday? Tell me everything!"
Ah. Yes. Your date.
Partially, the reason you were late to work. Not even in the inappropriate sense you sometimes wanted it to be.
Your grip on the pruning shears tightened. You tried to deflect.
"Nothing worth talking—"
"Oh, come on! I've been dying to hear everything! Spill the tea!"
Nobara was really relentless when she was in a mood, so after a couple of seconds, you decided to end your suffering as quickly as possible. Like ripping the band-aid off.
"That was fucking awful."
You could swear Nobara's nose twitched like a hound that scented the blood. The corner of your mouth lifted in amusement.
"I swear, all these date apps, blind dates, so on and so forth are not my type of thing," you murmured and sighed, looking around the room for any clue that could've helped to solve a mystery of human hearts. "No, I am serious!"
You told her everything. How you matched with a guy on a goddamn Tinder, who seemed…adequate at first sight. That you felt like something almost clicked in that unexplainable way, when you just…know.
You really hoped after him and dozens of unfruitful attempts to meet your fate spontaneously, and let Cupid’s arrows pierce you, your dating apps would result in something. However, with every swipe, weird dialogues and unambiguous hints at the end of coffee dates, your confidence that the male loneliness epidemic had been really justified only grew further. Yesterday’s attempt should’ve been the last one before locking yourself in a tower (your apartments), with only a jester (another 2000’s romcom) to keep you company. Sounded like a perfect plan.
“Everything was fine, before that jerk started asking whether I was like these females—”
“Ew,” Nobara grimaced. “Females? That’s a red flag already. Might be one of these podcast guys. They are all beyond saving.”
“I know, right? Should’ve told him to fuck off right that instant. Anyway,” you snipped a poor rose’s stem with more force than necessary and continued. “These females who like to invite poor men to the fanciest restaurants and make them pay!”
Nobara gasped, thoroughly scandalized, handing you a lighter.
“He did not!”
“Oh yes, he did. And that’s not even the worst! Then he asked when I would be ready to quit my job, because his wife and the mother of his children shouldn’t work,” deep-buried irritation from the godforsaken dinner slowly started to bloom in your chest, so you didn’t even notice you were holding the lighter near the stem longer than usual. Luckily, Nobara intervened before you almost set the flowers on fire.
“Hey-hey, gimme that,” she snatched the possible tool of destruction from your hands and quickly put the stem in a vase. You blinked in surprise and slumped on the nearby chair with a long, exhausted sigh.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she flashed you a warm smile and then added, barely audible. “Was my task, anyway. So, you were saying?”
“Yeah, right,” you dragged your hand over your face, “after we left the restaurant, the asshole offered to give me a ride.” You drawled the last word, double entendre clear in your voice, as you stared at Nobara with a telling gaze.
She, of course, understood. Slowly dragged her gaze from the flowers and stared back at you. A murderous glint flashed in her eyes. The lighter only added to her dangerous image.
You sighed once again and murmured, staring at the ceiling. “So, that was it. What’s even worse is that he seemed so nice and gallant and—,” you gestured vaguely before dropping your hand in desperation. The next words felt like shards; tears stole your voice. “I am not cut out for the relationships, clearly. Maybe something is fundamentally wrong with me, I don’t know! All this staff”, you drew a sharp exhale and angrily wiped your nose, “is not for me. I am way better alone”.
Hearing your voice, so uncharacteristically broken, Nobara kneeled in front of you. She squeezed your hands.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. Believe me. All these men are assholes that do not even deserve the strand of your hair!”
“Uhm, Nobara, flowers there—”
“Ah, fuck these flowers,” she waved dismissively. “I’ve got a bigger potential catastrophe on my hands,” you snorted at her words, and a big, bright grin broke on her face. “You are smart, pretty, kind, and just so wonderful! These guys? They can suck my—”
“Nobara!”
“Okay, okay,” Nobara rolled her eyes and leaned in closer, her grin morphing into a conspirational smile. Your eyes narrowed playfully. “Tell you what? We finish here, and I am taking you to that new mall, finally making you buy that slutty dress I’ve been talking about for days, then we crash into my flat, order whatever you want, and re-watch “Love Actually” for the hundredth time! How’s that?”
You couldn’t help but smile genuinely at Nobara’s suggestion. It was impossible to brood with her around.
“That sounds perfect.”
Your thoughts drifted to the morning once again. Something in your guts was telling you that you were right initially. Or maybe it was more of a wishful thinking, because his image would haunt your mind every failed date and every sparkle you misguessed as the beginning of something new. And yesterday was particularly shitty.
You weren’t that obsessed with your ex-situationship. So what if even after all the months you had been apart (though you doubted whether you could truly say that; you never had been together), he was the only person who had lit up your whole world? Pfft. Every girl had a story like this.
At least you hoped so. Stupid Gojo.
Despite all the things that happened between you (and did not), you couldn’t bring yourself to hate Gojo. His stupid white hair, ivory under the sunlight; a stupid grin that broke his face anytime you would say something funny, and that chuckle, Gods, that fucking chuckle of his was your biggest reward and the strongest undoing.
Then you would remember the way he ended both of you, destroying the root before your love could even blossom, and the urge to punch him would multiply drastically.
Just like now.
You were in the middle of preparing the next customer’s order and racked your brains on where to put a couple of black tulips, so they would look presentable enough. Then you struggled with the overall composition, the wrapping paper didn’t work much, you cut your ring finger and —
Stop that.
You took a deep breath. In and out. In and out.
That was it. The effect Satoru Gojo had on you.
“I definitely should get over this guy,” you murmured in the void, not addressing anyone in particular, but Nobara heard it. She turned around sharply, the large heart box with roses dangerously swaying in her hands. Her narrowed eyes seemed to pierce right through your soul, through the pregnant pauses, creeping between the endless conversations about your love life, the sadness you carried in the unsaid words.
She saw the raging storm in your weary eyes, and her glare softened immediately, lips parting to tell you something only Nobara could tell — but in the moment, the doorbell in the main hall rang obnoxiously loudly, and she hurriedly headed upstairs.
Your gaze dropped to the bouquet. The black tulips in the middle caught your attention immediately. A satisfied grin tucked in the corner of your mouth.
The flowers were pretty. Gorgeous. The fragile beauty of nature wrapped in the softest of touches. Nature’s most delicate gift. They didn’t hurt anyone. Not in the way people do, at least.
Nobara’s voice called you suddenly, pulling you back to reality. Your brows furrowed slightly: her voice sounded strangely strained. You headed up as well.
“My mother loves black tulips.”
“Really? Huh. That’s rare. Not everyone even thinks about what flowers they like.”
“Nah, she thinks about everything. And more. Like you.”
“Do you think this ribbon fits well, or should I find the lacy one? I am not quite sure.”
Your gaze flicked to Nobara, and then—
You rooted to your spot. The poor bouquet almost fell from your weakened hands, but that was the last thing that was on your mind.
Not when Gojo Satoru was staring back at you.
His eyes searched for every expression on your face, every bat of the eyelashes, every flicker of colour in your eyes, every twitch of your lips, soaking it up with the intensity that could rival the wanderer's thirst in a desert. Looking, dazing, gawking, drinking in your features. Like he wasn’t sure whether he should grab and kiss you till he got his fill or just admire from afar, like the most exquisite flower under the glass.
He stared. And stared. And stared.
And gods, you stared back.
His hair caught the sunlight, giving him an ethereal look, and you swore to God, the blue of his eyes brightened even more, though now his gaze seemed to carry more weight. You remembered them flashing with the charm and the mischief; it was still there, though you couldn’t help but notice adulthood setting into his features. Your gaze drifted over his frame, clad in a dark blue suit (probably worth your month’s rent), greedily fixing the broadness of his shoulders, the tight pull of the fabric on the chest, the little mole between his collarbones, peeking out from the unbuttoned shirt.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Why was he here?” An anxious thought beat against your ribcage with a deafening thump-thump, suddenly twice its usual size. “He wasn’t supposed to be here! And found me!”
Deep down, you knew. Of course, Gojo could. You moved to another city, not the other hemisphere.
But it was Kyoto. A fucking metropolis!
Gojo was from Kyoto.
You fixed all the details almost unconsciously, committing his features to your memory as if he were about to vanish right this second. Neither of you dared to move; silence wrapped around you like a thick blanket, trapping you in its suffocating confines.
Nobara’s gaze flicked between Gojo and you, but luckily, she didn’t ask anything. Must’ve been obvious.
“You go back. I’ll handle it,” she whispered to you, and the strange spell cast on your room was dispelled. You gave her a quick, unsure grin.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry.”
Nobara opened her mouth to protest, but your pleading look silenced her. With the last suspicious look at Gojo, she disappeared into another room.
You stood behind the register, trying to look as professional as ever. Trembling in your hands and the waver in your voice were a dead giveaway, though. Gojo’s eyes briefly flickered to your frame. His eyes softened almost imperceptibly.
“So, long time no see, Gojo. How’s that been?”
Gojo grimaced slightly but didn’t comment on you using his government name. Instead, he just stepped closer to the register, as if unsure whether he could approach you.
That startled you. Gojo was never about hesitance in any way.
“It’s been…okay,” he answered vaguely, and you couldn’t help but notice his timbre deepened. Tone smoothened, became richer. The Kyoto accent was back. You remembered how he desperately tried to sound more like a Tokyo guy.
Stop.
What on Earth were you thinking?
Focus.
“We’ve decided to reopen the Kyoto branch, and Gramps wanted to make me in charge of it.” You felt his gaze on you, and its intensity sent shivers down your spine. You nervously tried to issue him a receipt, but the terminal seemed to stop working at the most inconvenient moment ever. Heat slowly crept your cheeks.
"... and I've got a lot of things to look through and deal with a bunch of old fossils," Gojo continued, grimacing at the mention of old men who were probably a part of the shareholders' board. You noticed he told about himself rather vaguely, almost indifferently, as his own life couldn't feel less interesting.
You dreaded Gojo's next question. Don't ask, don't ask, don't ask—
"And how have you been?"
A strange kind of desperation laced Gojo's voice. As if he knew he had no right to ask that, but just could not help it. His Adam's apple bobbed with effort, and if you paid more attention, you would've noticed the flex of his fingers.
You forced a strained smile, your heart did a stupid little flip.
"I...am doing alright," you gestured vaguely around the shop as if it could've answered his question. However, Gojo's gaze was glued to you, searching, observing, examining the fatigue that was deeply etched into your features, the light dust of pink on your cheeks, a nervous smile hiding at the corner of your lips, and a small cut on your chin. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. Was it ever possible?
"It's for your mom, right?" you blurted out before even thinking, earning a surprised look from Gojo. Your eyes widened; probably, he thought you were a stalker or just a lunatic for asking that.
Nervously, you explained, fingers fumbling with the ribbon. "I remember you told your mom liked black tulips." Gods, why did you ask that? Is there really a kind of question for your ex-situationship at your first meeting?
Your heart beat anxious staccato against your chest. You prayed the ground would swallow you whole as Gojo remained silent.
Slowly, his initial shock and confusion melted into an undeniable affection, and he smiled, a soft, quiet smile that reached his eyes, crinkling at the corners.
You released a breath you didn't know you were holding.
"Yeah. She still does. That's for her. I...," Gojo's smile faltered a little, "she flew from Tokyo for some business, and I am gonna meet her. I asked my assistant to pick a flower shop close to it. With good reviews, of course,” his gaze quickly swept the surroundings, landing on various arrangements, bouquets and vases. Strange tightness coloured his tone, and you narrowed your eyes in suspicion.
"Ah. I see."
"Yeah."
So, he didn't stalk you. Good to hear.
A loose strand of hair fell over your forehead, and you put it back with an annoyed sigh. Gojo's gaze followed it with a tender ache; you thought you imagined it.
Gojo's lips parted slightly, and then he abruptly closed his mouth again. A little frown formed between his brows.
"Listen, I know it's not the right moment, but I would like —"
You swallowed anxiously, but in that second, his phone rang. Whoever that was, you were beyond grateful for a little respite after everything that had just happened.
Gojo Satoru.
Your something. Your almost everything. Your childhood wish for a friend. Your teenage longing for love. Your yearning to be seen.
Your invisible string draped over months and cities. Forever snapped.
Or?
"Ijichi, I told you already," Gojo's voice came out way too harsher than it was with you; a mask slipping back on his face, "I'm busy with something right now."
Annoyance flushed in his eyes as he listened to a hasty voice on the other side of the phone. He pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation.
"Uh-huh. I got it. Be in five minutes."
The anxious voice, Ijichi's, as you presumed, mumbled something back, but Gojo didn’t pay attention.
Silence wrapped around you once again, unsure and hesitant. You took a deep breath, on the verge of blurting something about maintenance or a sudden supply of birthday cards, or anything, before Gojo's voice cut through the mess that your head was, softer than you ever expected.
"It was nice seeing you."
You rehearsed words suddenly seemed meaningless. A look of surprise crossed your face at his words, and before you could articulate your confusion in somehow coherent words, Gojo already left with a curt nod. The bell jingled obnoxiously loud, and you slowly took a deep breath.
Gojo's cologne was still lingering in the air, enveloping you in his scent.
Lost and confused, you slumped in the nearest chair behind the register, brain short-circuiting on what had just happened. Something you had never dared to think about in your dreams. Gojo was tucked in the deepest corner of your heart; you rarely allowed yourself to truly reminisce about what you were and never became.
And you couldn't shake the feeling he wanted to ask you something before the call.
Or were you just making things up? Wishful thinking?
***
The day when you met Gojo was as clear as ever in your mind. No. When Gojo met you. Really met.
You had seen Satoru Gojo all the time at the campus: his frosty white hair impossible to miss, laugh booming loudly in the university halls, enough for people to turn their heads, all sharp grins and snarky remarks — confidence walked hand in hand with him as he basked in the attention. He moved like a person who had never forced himself to be small. To fit into some box. People orbited around him, inevitably driven closer by his overwhelming presence: planets pulled closer by the gravity of the Sun.
You, on the other hand, were one of the satellites, surfing through the vast expanse of university life.
Naturally, your paths with Gojo didn't cross very often: sure, he was in your periphery all the time, effortlessly catching your attention with his jokes and... everything; you shared a couple of classes and had a bit of awkward exchanges in the library over behavioural theory of management. You weren't even surprised: for all Gojo's lack of discipline in the classes, he really had a sharp mind.
Sometimes he gave you a bright grin in greeting, to which you answered with a short nod, putting on an air of confidence, despite the frantic beat of your heart and the speed at which your palms got sweaty.
So, as it was etched in the laws of the universe, you quietly observed Gojo from afar, not daring to collide with his orbit more than needed. Burning in the Sun's light would bring long-lasting scars.
Oh, how right you were.
This shouldn't have happened. He should've just walked past you like many others on that rainy day, when you were standing right next to your stall, teeth chattering as the coldness embraced you in its harsh hands. Your gaze quickly swept the surroundings — the majority of students had already left their standings. No wonder, with the weather like that, who would've been foolish enough to stay at the volunteer fair?
You were. Though you preferred to think of yourself as responsible and kind.
A deep chuckle pierced through the monotonous cacophony of the rain, and inevitably, your gaze landed on Gojo. He was hanging out at his friend's stall, helping to put things in the boxes. Geto, if you remembered it correctly. Surprisingly, he was also helping one of the city's animal shelters. You tried not to dwell on his charity box, which showed way more promise than yours.
You were so focused on not freezing to death at that point that you didn't notice Gojo walking to your stall. The bag with his volleyball (because of course, Gojo was ridiculously good at everything) uniform hit his leg with every step.
He stood right in front of it, a curious grin tugging at the corner of his lips. He looked ridiculously handsome, even with a silly umbrella.
Gojo kept examining the various brochures about the shelter, pictures of cats and dogs, seeking their homes. His gaze softened imperceptibly.
Meanwhile, your world just tilted off its axis.
"Hi," you gave Gojo a nervous smile.
He looked up immediately and hummed in acknowledgement. "Hi."
An awkward silence fell upon you. Your brain short-circuited as you anxiously tried to scramble for the right words, but they just flew out of your mind right then. Nothing. Blank screen. Error.
Gojo didn't seem to notice your mental struggles, still glued to the stall.
Just when you were about to finally introduce him to the shelter you had been volunteering for, he suddenly reached for the wallet and threw bills in the charity box. A lot, one would say.
You blinked. Blinked again. Maybe you were hallucinating from standing all day in the cold.
"What the hell are you doing?" You blurted out, and deep crimson painted your cheeks in embarrassment.
What the hell were you doing?
Who on Earth would say something like that to a person, willingly donating to your stall?
You hoped he wasn’t very petty.
Instead, his white brows knitted in confusion. He took a step back to examine the box before dragging his gaze, the brightest of blues, to you.
"Donating, I guess?"
"Yeah, no shit," you scoffed. Backing wasn't an option by this time. "That's like...a lot."
A look of realisation crossed Gojo's face, before a cracking bright grin, as if the Sun finally peeked through the heavy clouds. Suddenly, the cold didn't bother you as much as before.
"Ah, it's nothing. Really," he drawled lazily and nodded at the photos again. "Besides, it's only for the good."
He was kind of insane, you thought. But hey, who would've said no to the charity money? Especially if you did less than expected at this fair.
"Then... thank you," you breathed out in relief, but immediately grimaced at how empty and basic it sounded. Quickly, you added. "Really, thank you! It would do a lot for the shelter, and —"
You reached for a simple box, adorned with a colourful ribbon, resting among others, to gift him. Nothing much, but you spent your whole evening preparing them.
"There's a postcard, a cap and a mug!" You shrugged casually, fingers toying with the ribbon, and handed the box to Gojo. "A token of appreciation, if you wish".
He examined the box with a sharp look, and for the moment, you felt really silly. His long fingers curled around the box, brushing briefly against yours — a warm touch, despite the rain, sending sparks of electricity up your arm.
Did Gojo notice that too?
He almost left, and you almost could breathe in relative calm, when something must've popped into his mind, and he abruptly stopped in his tracks.
"Wait...are you this girl from the management class? The one with the old Gakuganji? Sitting on the left side, third row?" His eyes briefly scanned your face. You felt like a butterfly under his piercing gaze. "We talked about Mayo's behaviour theory in the library, remember?"
Remember. Did you remember.
Did you remember him.
The carefully constructed unreachable image of Gojo in your head seemed to have its first cracks. You had never thought he would ask if anyone remembered him. You had never thought he would remember your place at the lecture. The Sun didn’t simply bother to pay attention to the satellites.
Gojo might’ve interpreted your stunned silence in a completely different way.
“I mean, your hair is…different. And the hood,” he gestured vaguely, and you quickly put the lone strand behind your ear.
“Yeah, uhm, that’s…that’s me.”
Gojo didn’t answer this, studying your face with intensity that might’ve pierced through your entire being. As if he were searching for an answer to a particularly tricky question only you could give him.
Or maybe it was just an effect of his eyes — a shade that certainly shouldn’t exist in the world, putting all the world’s blues to shame. He was still stuck around your stall, as if glued. As if he didn’t want to leave.
You didn’t even dare to think about it.
“Why are you alone? Aren’t the stalls supposed to have two volunteers? Suguru told me.”
You sighed, reminiscing about how Nobara almost coughed her lungs out today, but her stubborn ass somehow insisted on coming with you. Eventually, it ended with you locking her up in the dorm room.
“They are. I should’ve been there with my friend. She fell ill.”
A mischievous glint flashed in Gojo’s eyes as he arched his brow. “Really fell?”
“Really, really. Nobara’s not like that.” You scoffed at his implications and crossed your hands on your chest.
Gojo’s face sobered. “Nobara? Kugisaki? The lead cheerleader?”
You nodded.
He nodded back. “Yeah, she’s not.”
Your brows furrowed in confusion. What the hell was going on there? Why did he, Gojo Satoru, out of all people, stay by your lonely stall and ask you weird questions?
Creepy.
Gojo’s gaze flicked to the sky, just as the deafening sound of thunder boomed out of a sudden, then back to your face. The rainy pit-patter against the stall’s shade intensified, pulling you out of the strange daze to hastily pack the stuff back. The framed pictures landed in the box with awkward thuds as you threw them in the box. How you were going to take all of the stuff back to the dorm remained a full mystery.
You picked two of them with a grunt, and the hair fell on your forehead, obscuring the view. The box on the top dangerously slid down, earning a string of curses and a couple of desperate groans from you, when a pair of strong hands suddenly took them from your weakened hands. The rain didn’t help the situation at all.
You almost slipped, losing balance, but quickly stabilized yourself, gripping the same very pair of hands. There was no objection. From the person, obviously.
Gojo’s gaze pinned you to the ground when you looked up. His messy white fringe fell on his forehead (you felt a strange itch in your fingers to brush it away), and some strands, wet from the rain, stuck to his forehead. The soft brightness of his eyes was gone, replaced with something darker and more intense, you weren’t sure you could name it. You just stared back and wondered if the lost people in the oceans saw that exact shade of blue before drowning in their unforgiving waves.
You never saw Gojo that close, obviously. You didn’t know his lashes were so long and soft, fluttering with every breath he took; his nose was crooked just a fraction, and pale freckles dusted his cheeks.
You swallowed, not daring to step back, and just froze like a deer in the headlights.
Maybe that was the way goddesses crafted the invisible strings. A whim, a caprice of fate, looking down at the people and deciding to grant their hearts the greatest wishes, just to weave them forever into the endless canvas of the universe.
Little did you know that it was he who got rooted to the very spot. Froze. Stilled. Whatever. Gojo’s entire universe had just fallen off the axis and flew towards hell. The black hole, one might say. With such clarity that he was, honestly, surprised that no one saw it.
That was the day when he first saw you. Really saw. The lone girl near the animal shelter’s stall, who observed people dismissively walking past her with an understanding and forgiving look. Whose entire face lit up when she talked about the rescued dogs and cats, to the people who would actually come up to the stall. The kind smile that transformed her face into a painting of the finest craft as she gifted the gift boxes. Who stubbornly chose to stay at the fair in the rain and cold. All alone, because her friend got sick. And, naturally, he walked to you, drawn like a moth to the flame.
A shot of electricity shook through Gojo’s body. The ground dropped away from his feet. The biggest fuckass tsunami hit him and filled his lungs with you, you, you.
That was scary. That was dangerous. You were dangerous.
The sudden clap of thunder above pulled you out of this strange haze. You stepped back; Gojo blinked — a storm in his eyes gave way to a warm sea breeze.
“They are heavy. I’ll walk you to the dorm.”
Your cheeks heated up, and you quickly babbled.
“There’s no need, really. I am okay—”
You almost flinched at the particularly deafening sound of the thunder and threw your hands up, answering with a weak grin.
“Seems like I do not have much of a choice.”
Gojo only chuckled.
His shoulder lightly brushed against yours the whole time to the dorm, sending light sparks up your arm even through the hoodie. You noticed how he subconsciously fell into step with you. Gojo gave you his umbrella, with some Digimon on it, and at first, you tried to shield him from the raindrops as well, but Gojo was so tall that your arm quickly hurt.
None of you said anything, besides light humming from Gojo’s side, and it felt strangely…nice. You expected desperately scrapping for words to fill the uncomfortable silence between you, but there was no need. Maybe you still existed in that small babble, where time stopped and held you in its tight embrace.
“So, that’s me,” you nodded at the doors and made a grab for the boxes.
Gojo frowned. “They are heavy. Come on, let’s get inside.”
Nobara certainly would ask you questions about how Gojo ended up in their room. You realized that you didn’t want to share this strange moment of...whatever it was with Gojo, with anyone else yet. Besides, she was still sick.
You forced a smile. “Thank you a lot, but I am fine. Really. And Nobara’s sick, so…”
Gojo blinked in confusion, but seeing you weren’t going to step back, nodded. He handed you the boxes back, which made you almost double over under their weight.
“See you at the lectures,” he waved to you, a charming grin curled up on his lips, and you found yourself smiling back. For a couple of moments, you watched his tall figure retreating, mulling over whether you should ask Gojo what the hell was going on, thank him properly or just say anything. You were so nervous, you could barely hear your own thoughts with the blood roaring in your ears.
Your gaze quickly dropped to the box, the shelter’s logo immediately caught your eye, and the idea popped into your mind so fast your anxious mind had hardly registered it.
“Hey, Gojo!”
He stepped in his tracks and turned right that instant at the sound of your voice. Like he had been subconsciously wishing for it. His eyes seemed so bright, burning you with their electric blue.
God. What had you done? What were you going to do now? Your suggestion seemed so utterly stupid. Maybe Gojo would get tired of your hesitance and walk away?
“Yes?”
Oh, fuck. He was still standing there, head tilted in curiosity. You swallowed. There was no backing down now. Your grip on the boxes tightened.
“Come to the animal shelter this weekend,” you blurted out. His eyes widened slightly, but you continued. “Your donation was the biggest. There’s a prize for it!”
For a long, painful second, you were sure he would come up with some polite excuse to decline it. To your biggest surprise, a big grin broke on his face.
“I’ll be there. See you.”
You watched Gojo walking away, still not quite believing what had just happened.
The days leading up to the weekend were filled with nervous excitement. Even when Gojo came for your number to text you about it, anxiety was still buzzing deep in your bones.
Turned out there was no reason for it.
He actually showed up. That time. And many others.
You met at the shelter countless times — Gojo was more than welcome there. Your awkward, occasional conversations in the library turned into full study sessions, when both of you were glad to just share a bit of space. You learnt each other’s coffee orders by heart, favourite books, movies, shared favourite quotes, and had endless conversations under the starry sky about everything and nothing all at once. He would usually point at the bunch of stars and come up with the most ridiculous constellations and histories about them. You couldn’t remember a single moment when your cheeks didn’t hurt from smiling with him, a warm feeling blossomed in your chest every time his lips curved into a soft, gentle grin, the one you had already learnt was reserved only for you. All your camera film was filled with him, but you never complained.
You had never felt anything like that before; your heart was filled to the top with unspent, unrestrained love, so, naturally, it overflowed and flooded everything.
Maybe that was it. Maybe you loved Gojo so fiercely and desperately that it scared him. You never questioned or tried to define your relationship with him — you both were so happy that you thought that taste of honey would linger on your lips forever, living in the warm, miraculous daze forever. For Gojo, whose entire life was carefully built around expectations — the grades always had to be perfect, his future predetermined, written up to the smallest detail the moment he was born, the weight of his family's prestige settling heavily on his shoulders — being with you was a breath of fresh air. He didn’t have to put on any front: a star student, a team captain, the Gojo heir…he was just Satoru with you. And maybe he got a little bit too used to the fact that you simply took everything he offered to you, without asking for more. Without demanding. Without expecting. And when his heart started to jump every time he saw you, his chest tightened with a loving, tender ache at the sight of your smile and all his thoughts gravitated to you wherever he was, Gojo knew he was gone. Completely.
He didn’t know how to love someone that much. Selflessly, unconditionally, handing his heart on his palm. The painful vulnerability that came with your love stripped him bare, to the bone, exposed the deepest corners of his heart and soul — something he didn’t even dare to look at himself. And that scared him. No amount of hiding his horror of being loved behind the usual mask of a fool could hide it. So he did the best he could for both of you. At least, that was what he thought.
Left you.
He sincerely thought that was him protecting you from the inevitable break-up. He didn’t know how to love. He didn’t know how to be loved.
Turned out Gojo just protected himself.
Slowly, your dates shortened, turning into quick meetings and then vanished completely with his weak excuses. Calls postponed, messages left on delivered. He gradually slipped away from your life, leaving a hole so big you didn’t know whether it was even possible to fill with something, someone else who wasn’t him. He ripped your heart and took it with him.
What was even worse was that despite everything, you couldn’t even bring yourself to hate him. Despite taking away your air with him. You cried yourself to sleep on countless nights, threw yourself into studies, volunteering, working, and everything that could even remotely help you to find closure. You were so lucky to have Nobara by your side — wordlessly, she picked up the shards of your shattered heart and carefully glued them together.
Over time, you grew tired of seeing your own sad, tear-filled gaze in the mirror, the sorrow in the bags under your eyes, hollow cheeks — solitude etched into your soul. You didn’t deserve it. If he weren’t the one, then be it. You couldn’t let a man define all your future.
With strange calmness and melancholy, you blocked him. Moved to another city. Got to work in a flower shop, something that you discussed with Gojo a lot of times. Took up hobbies. Squeezed yourself into bustling, busy Kyoto life as much as you could. Met other people, despite how much you wanted to hide in your shell.
Got over Gojo. At least, you thought you did, safe for times when your mind naturally went to reminisce about him after failed dates; for the fingerprints of him were all over the pages of your life.
Only for everything to return after meeting him today.
***
Saying that Gojo didn’t cross your mind the next days would be a lie.
You wish you were a liar.
Why did he happen to visit your flower shop? Was it really random?
And more importantly: would he visit again?
The one part of you, young, naive and endlessly romantic, built sandcastles and told you that she wanted it to happen. The other, sharpened by adulthood and the cruelty of the world, destroyed them without batting an eye and told you not to be foolish. The second voice sounded suspiciously like Nobara’s.
You were too scared to trust the girl with the dreams way bigger than her, living in a fairytale, where princes would always find their way to princesses, fight all the dragons and have their happily-ever-afters.
You couldn’t afford to think about it. Closing off, guarding your heart like Cerberus wasn’t an option either, so you did what any reasonable, mature grown-up would do: bury yourself in work.
The large shipment of items, flowers and vases among them, had just been delivered to the shop, before one of your most frequent customers’ jubilee, so you were in dire need of all hands available. As a cruel joke of fate, Nobara was on the other side of the city, and Utahime argued with the suppliers, who messed up an important order again; her angry voice cut through the relative serenity and silence in the shop. Honestly, totally understandable.
Your back hurt from standing for God knew how long, a band-aid on your left hand had already asked for mercy, and the strain in your neck screamed for relief. You tried not to pay attention to the tightness in your shoulders; the exhaustion gave you a much-needed escape from your own mind.
The bell chimed in greeting; your head snapped up to greet a client, only to be met with a familiar flash of snowy hair.
Your heart skipped a beat, and light pink dusted your cheeks.
The little girl sheepishly peeked out of the window in her sandcastle.
“Didn’t expect you to see you here, yet so soon,” you mumbled in greeting, hastily wiping your hands off the apron and, unconsciously, clasping them behind your back. For some reason, you didn’t want Gojo to have a look at your scratches. Not when he was dressed to kill. Probably you.
You dragged your gaze from his figure and stood behind the register. The familiar position gave much-needed strength to deal with the headache Gojo Satoru was. Like you were the one in control.
You didn’t quite recognize your voice, all sharp and business-like, when you asked him.
“How can I help you?”
Gojo didn’t answer you straight away. His gaze swept the surroundings — scattered boxes, vases waiting to be filled, a bunch of balloons — until it landed on you. Something tender and endlessly fragile flashed in his eyes, but he quickly masked it.
“I am here to talk to you and your boss, Miss Iori. I’ve been told I have to wait a bit —”
“...and if you are gonna sell me ranunculi instead of peonies once again, when I specifically asked for the fucking peonies,” you both turned your heads towards Utahime’s office, her voice gradually rising in pitch as she spoke. You swallowed. “I am gonna stick them all up in your ass and —”
You quickly exchanged glances with Gojo. His lips curled into a full-blown grin, the amusement dancing on his face, so unrestrained that you forgot what all the fuss about was.
“She’s a little busy now,” you chuckled in return.
“I see,” Gojo finally turned to you, with the same smile he once stole your heart, and leaned on the register, his long fingers lazily drumming against the surface.
“Actually, it’s even better. I want to talk to you first,” Gojo’s voice, soothing around the edges, dipped to that tone you were all familiar with. Deep and sweet, thick as honey, dying on your tongue in dizzying aftertaste.
“You see, we’re going to have an event soon, and among everything we need florists, obviously.” He flashed you a quick smile, but seeing confusion written all over your face, quickly schooled himself. Gojo glanced around the shop once again: the holiday postcards seemed to pique his interest way more than your reaction, then his gaze drifted to Utahime’s office once again, and finally, he dared to look at your face again.
“And?”
“I want you to be the main designer of the event.”
Gojo’s words didn’t catch you completely off guard. Deep down, you wanted that day not to be a strange accident. Longed to see him again. Needed to allow yourself a moment of foolishness.
A beat of silence passed between you, charged with the heaviness of unspoken words and feelings, deep buried inside to a point you doubt whether you both had even happened. Otherwise, why didn’t you ask him straight away to find someone else? Go from your sight and never return?
Why didn’t you have the strength to resist his gravity? Was it even possible? To deny the Sun its power, when the burns still echoed in your heart with raging ache?
Gojo’s eyes were glued to your face, desperately seeking any clue his expression might hand him. His voice dropped to a desperate whisper.
“I am not going to force you into anything. If you don’t want to deal with this,” the sudden wavering crept into his voice; a grimace briefly crossed his face, “dealing with me, I understand that. But I want to ask you not to do it. You’ll have all the creative freedom you want, all the communication will be handled by my assistant, and we won’t even meet, unless you want it. I promise. Just…just don’t reject the offer because of me. Please.”
Your gaze narrowed, steel slipping into it. As much as the sapphires of his eyes urged you to surrender, to capitulate, to yield, your dignity screamed in objection.
“Why are you so adamant about this? Why do you want me to do this?”
His lips curled into a small knowing smile, bitter around the edges. His finger lightly tapped on the bunch of receipts, eyes drifting to the forgotten band-aid on your hand. The tightness in your shoulders didn’t go unnoticed either.
“I think you need it. To feel in your place once again.”
How.
How did he manage to dig into your chest and rip your heart, revealing all the quiet battles you had been fighting? After all those years? Making you seen, even now?
But why did he think he still had a chance to tear you apart? To open apart old scars, the ones you were slowly stitching together?
The sudden anger bloomed bright in your chest, dipping all your words in venom.
“You promised me a lot of things, Gojo. I don’t quite remember you keeping them.”
A sparkle of icy fury flashed in Gojo’s eyes, and his jaw tightened. You didn’t allow yourself to flinch as he stared right into your eyes — the swords clashing in a deadly dance.
You dug your nails into your palm hard enough to leave crescents.
“Come on, say something. Give me a reason to hate you.”
The anger in his eyes slowly melted into an ache until guilt flooded the blue of them. Gojo stepped back with a sigh. His fingertips twitched as if he wanted to reach you, but then stopped halfway.
“I know I had hurt you. And believe me, this is not how I imagined us having a conversation like this,” Gojo’s gaze caressed your features, memorizing them, as if it would be his last chance to see you at all. Miraculously, you hold yourself from giving in to the apology and regret that laced his voice. You weren’t ready to face everything once again. Your heart was still bleeding for him. “If you want to talk about it — “
A subtle shake. “I do not.”
“Okay. Okay. I understand. Then just think about what I said. Please.”
Your gaze dropped. You wanted to hate him. You wanted to look right into his face and say “fuck you”, among many other things you were desperate to cry out. To scream, to push, to take him apart like he once did to you.
But you couldn’t.
You didn’t notice Gojo left the shop until the annoying doorbell chirped right through the haze of your mind.
Exhausted, you dragged your hand over your face and slumped into the nearby chair, deep in thought.
***
Utahime didn’t urge you to anything, and while you were grateful for that, the answer she hoped for was visible in the tight set of her shoulders as she looked through the bills, the tired sigh that would escape her every time she dealt with the suppliers, not to mention the rude customers. The jubilee was the last big event before the usual dry period.
Your inner scales gradually tipped towards Gojo’s offer more and more, with every strain in your neck, headache pounding with deafening force at your temples and endless scratches on your palms.
One evening, with you and Nobara crashing on your couch, you finally felt the scales tipped in Gojo’s favour. As the days blurred into a limitless working routine, where the only light was his words, whispering in the back of your exhausted mind with more and more annoying insistence, you found yourself eventually thinking about his offer more and more.
“So, you gonna text him or what?” Nobara mused, swirling the wine in her glass, sitting with her legs tucked. The Friday evening downed at you with a startling surprise.
You mindlessly twirled a business card that Gojo left for you at the register the day he visited the shop. Strangely, it completely slipped out of your mind. A quick brush of fingers against the plastic — an elegantly written GOJO SATORU caught the light — until it hit the coffee table. Nobara reached for it to examine.
“Whoa, as cocky as ever.”
“Well, he’s the CEO or whoever,” you murmured dismissevely and took a gulp from your own glass. The liquid bloomed bitterly at the tip of your tongue, and you put it away with a sigh.
Even wine didn’t help. You slowly tilted your head back until it hit the back of the couch.
“Okay, let’s look at this from the other side,” Nobara discarded the card somewhere and sat cross-legged. You cracked one eye open, and the sight of her business-like expression almost made a groan slip your lips. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
When Nobara was in a mood, nothing in the world could stop her. You slowly straightened, but her next words made you choke on your own breath.
“It’s not like he’s gonna confess that he was a massive jerk and ask for your hand in marriage.”
You spluttered, heat rising your cheeks. “Nobara!”
The small decorative throw pillow landed on her face with the precision of a sniper. She huffed and rolled her eyes.
“Just saying. Not like that’s ever happening.”
A silence fell upon both of you, while you chewed on your bottom lip, musing over Gojo’s last words, which still lingered in your heart with a dull ache.
Nobara narrowed her eyes and cocked her brow in a silent question. You swallowed and gave in with a sigh.
“He tried to talk to me that day,” you paused, choosing the next words, fully aware of Nobara’s glaring daggers in you. “Just admitted he hurt me, but I wasn’t ready for this whole conversation. Like, at all. You know what I mean, right?”
You slowly dragged your gaze to her, only to meet her softened gaze, full of sympathy. Wordlessly, she opened her arms, and you fell into her embrace. A quiet sniffle escaped you as you buried your face in her hoodie. Still without saying anything, Nobara brushed a lone hair strand behind your ear.
She indeed knew what you meant.
When she held you in her arms, after Gojo ghosted you, brushed off like you never ever happened in his life. When she was by your side without even asking, dragging you back to the world, where Gojo was no longer a part of you. When she helped you to stand on your own once again.
Nobara knew. You knew. Creeping between the cracks of things you never said.
“I don’t know what to do.” Your voice got muffled by the fabric, but your best friend heard you all good. She patted your head with a soft, melancholic smile and murmured.
“I think you do, sweetheart.”
You went still in her arms, before mumbling something affirmative, and pulled back. Your fingers nervously trembled as you typed Gojo’s number.
“I won’t let him get me this time.”
Nobara watched you with a serious face, chin resting in her palm, elbow digging into the plush of the throw pillows. God, she hoped you were right. Not like her, or you would survive another heartbreak by Gojo Satoru. This time, it might come crushing even more.
She moved closer, your thighs brushing against each other’s, as she peeked at your screen. Her eyes briefly scanned the text before giving an approving nod.
You exhaled sharply before anxiously hitting the send button.
The three dots appeared in your chat alarmingly fast. Like Gojo had been chained to his phone, waiting for your text. You slowly exchanged glances with Nobara.
“He’s typing something.”
“Thanks, Sherlock.”
You threw her an annoyed glance. “Shut it.”
Not even a minute had passed since your own message when the phone dinged with a notification from Gojo.
Gojo
22:54
Hi. Honestly, I didn’t expect you to text at all. Of course, my offer is still up and will be. Told you it’s yours. We can meet on Monday to discuss the details, if you’re free.
“Oh, he’s so sweet, it’s disgusting,” Nobara fake gagged and reached for her long forgotten wine. You didn’t dignify it with a response.
You
22:56
yeah, monday works for me. what about 2 p.m.?
Gojo
22:56
Totally fine. See you then.
You watched three dots appearing and disappearing in the chat, and your grip on the phone tightened with each passing second.
Gojo
22:58
Good night.
Your heart did a stupid flip, totally not needed and surely out of place. You shouldn’t have this reaction to Gojo Satoru. Shouldn’t!
With a sigh, you blocked the phone and stared up at the ceiling, mulling over what Monday would bring to you.
***
The clock in the Gojo’s reception barely hit 12 a.m., when his secretary, a tall blonde woman with a polite smile, invited you into his office. Honestly, you regretted not asking to meet you at least at a neutral territory the moment you stepped into the cold, pristine walls of the Six Eyes Corp. The ride in the elevator felt endless, your anxiety rising with each passing second, and the sight of an entire horde of managers and support staff running around didn’t help.
Corporation shmorporation.
Wait. Would you become another cog in this soulless capitalism machine the moment you agree to Gojo’s offer?
You didn’t have time to think through it properly, opening the door to his office.
It was bigger than the reception, but not as enormous as you imagined. The first thing that caught your eye was the panoramic windows, with the entire Kyoto spread before your eyes. The walls were adorned with beautiful paintings: you squinted your eyes to examine them, which probably belonged to the brush of some niche Japanese artist. His workplace was surprisingly neat, especially given the way you remembered Gojo, when you both were…were. The laptop, a bunch of papers to be signed, pens in a holder, and…wait for a damn minute.
A mug. A simple mug just near a stapler. Slightly cracked, the logo rubbed off, but the image of a winking cat was still visible.
Blood pounded in your ears, while you tried to get a grip on your anxious thoughts. You took a tentative step closer to observe it better, but there was no point in it. It really was the same mug you gifted him at that fair. A prize for the biggest donation. His donation. Gojo kept it in his room, and you drank from the mug more times than you could count. He would often joke that it was his favourite trophy.
And he kept it. On his table, in his office, where he ruled the world that this corporation was. Why?
Why? Did he think of you? Did he recall that fair? The shelter?
Ironically, Gojo didn’t notice you. His back was facing you as he talked to someone over the phone, looking at the city beneath his feet. You allowed yourself a moment of shameless gawking at his back in the crisp white of a button-up. His voice was clipped, words short, and exhaustion laced his words. You felt bad for intruding this place for a moment, especially when his shoulders dropped, as he ran fingers through the hair: the clear white of it catching the light in a way that stole your breath. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up, exposing the map of the veins on his forearms, muscles slightly flexing with every move. You swallowed and quickly looked away.
He finally acknowledged you with a slight tilt of his head and dismissed the call with a quick “Not now. Busy,” gesturing for you to take a chair.
You carefully sat, fingers fumbling with the strap of a bag to get your notebook, as Gojo slumped in his chair, which screamed The Big Boss™. He hooked his thumb in the tie with irritation to loosen it, and your gaze briefly flicked there. You smiled sympathetically.
“Rough day?”
“A bit.”
Your grip on the notebook tightened. “We can reschedule, I don’t mind.”
Gojo’s white brows knitted together in confusion, and he immediately straightened up. “No, why would we? I am peachy.”
Your shoulders dropped in a shrug. “Okay.”
“Wanna some coffee or tea? I hope Mei Mei offered you something.”
“Ah, yeah, I’ve just had coffee. Thanks.” Yes. Coffee was a totally plausible excuse for your fidgeting.
“I see.”
Inevitably, you kept sneaking glances at Gojo, pulled closer by the gravity. He twirled the pan between his long, pale fingers, checking something on the laptop, his eyes briefly scanning the screen. Then suddenly he looked up, catching you red-handed just mid-gawking. You briefly dropped your gaze back to the notebook, while his lips curled into a little smug grin. You cleared your throat, the business-like mask slipping on your face.
“So, I’ll need to know what exactly the kind of event it is going to be, a venue, and a budget at first. If you have something specific in mind for the design, I’ll also be glad to hear.”
Gojo’s grin softened as he listened to your questions, head tilted, a dreamy gaze caressing your features. You looked so charming, sitting all serious in his office.
Only when you cocked your brow in an attempt to hurry him did he realize he was shamelessly staring at you all this time. Well done, Gojo. Very professional. He quickly typed something on the laptop just to avoid your gaze.
“It’s gonna be an annual charity event for our foundation. They used to be hosted in the Tokyo branch, but this year the board decided to hold it there, in Kyoto.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you ran a foundation”.
A smile broke on Gojo’s face, and he hummed. “Well, a lot of things changed since —” he abruptly cut them off, probably having realized he sounded kind of insensitive. You hold your breath, “since I became the CEO.”
You breathed out and marked something off in your list.
“I see. That’s…that’s really good. I am glad things are taking on a better turn.”
“Me too.”
Gods, that was so awkward. This really should’ve been a call. Gojo, however, either didn’t notice this strange atmosphere or simply decided to ignore it. He examined you with his bright blue gaze, head tilted to the side. A curious smile played on his lips, and you hated that he was effortlessly charming even now. Always had been. You pressed a pen to your lips. His gaze flicked there, as if hypnotized.
“What about the venue?”
“The hotel next to the main building. We have a partnership with this chain, so it’s kinda a mutual offer. You should’ve seen it on the way here.”
Oh yes, you did. The said building screamed luxury, not the grotesque hyperbolized one, but something way quieter. The kind that clearly told you would’ve been odd there.
Okay, you thought. You would be working there, not catching glimpses of visitors and the staff.
Another mark in the notebook.
“Budget?”
Gojo waved his hand in dismissal. “Unlimited. The floor is yours.”
You arched your brow, humming. You didn’t have a lot of luck in encountering your exes, who wanted you to work for them with an unlimited budget. “What if I asked for, I don’t know, Juliet Roses?”
He hummed in return, fingers drumming against the wood of the table. Then leaned slightly in, amusement lacing his tone as he drawled.
“I don’t understand much about that. But sure, whatever you want.”
You pressed your lips into a thin line, earning a deep chuckle from Gojo. Teasing the guy who had more money than you would ever be able to make wasn’t as funny as you thought.
After this, you discussed the setting, a couple of specific ideas you already had outlined and some technical details. Gojo tried to crack some jokes, but you weren’t as enthusiastic about them as he was, so he quickly put on a business guy mask on. At the end of the meeting, your mind buzzed quietly with all the information, but a familiar feeling of excitement flooded you: hours of brainstorming, crafting, and creating waited for you. A big heartfelt smile broke on your face as you packed your things back into the bag.
Gojo offered to walk you back to the elevator, and you didn’t find any excuse to refuse him. The silence stretched between you, not unnecessarily heavy, but you wouldn’t call it comfortable. Your gaze swept the surroundings, landing on a couple of managers, who were stealing sneaky glances at both of you and whispering something to each other with sharp smirks.
Ugh. Like you were back in the university once again, meeting dumbfounded gazes of students, the moment they eyed you up next to Gojo.
He was humming something to yourself, completely unbothered, leaning on the wall with the air of confidence that suggested he owned this whole world. And he surely did, if the world closed in on this corporation.
You quickly looked over your shoulder. “Didn’t it bother you?”
He stopped humming, eyes briefly flickering to your face. A lopsided grin curled his lips. “What are you talking about?”
Ah, as usual. He didn’t even notice the gaze, the whispers and the gossiping. Again, the sun didn’t bother to pay attention to satellites.
You wordlessly glanced at the girls back and stared at the elevator. Gojo watched you with his head tilted and followed the direction of your gaze. The moment his eyes landed on the gossiping managers, his jaw tightened, and the steel crept into his voice. “Ah. I see.”
Your head snapped towards Gojo, and without much thinking, you grabbed him by the wrist. “I didn’t mean anything, let them be — “
“Hey, Chloe!” His voice boomed across the hall, causing one girl to nearly drop her binder. You could see her swallowing with effort even from this distance. A charming smile tugged on the corner of his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes, as he drawled in a deceptively sweet voice. “I presume you already finished the monthly report, since you have plenty of free time?”
The crimson crept up Chloe’s cheeks as she gripped the binder tighter, babbling. “No, Mr. Gojo, I was merely —”
His smile turned more wolfish as he tilted his head. “Then get your friend outta of here and do something useful.”
Chloe briefly exchanged glances with her friend before quickly making their way to the offices. Gojo watched until their figures disappeared and turned to you with a mischievous smile.
“Nah, it doesn’t.”
You couldn’t help but smile in return. “They are gonna talk even more, you know.”
His shoulders dropped in a lazy shrug, but his gaze fixed you with its usual intensity. You forgot how the sharpness of it used to make your breath bated.
“There’s nothing to talk about. Unless?”
Your heart stammered against your ribs at the innuendo in his tone. Inevitably, you remembered the mug from the shelter on his table, and while you were debating whether to bring it up or keep your mouth shut, the elevator behind finally dinged. A sign, hah?
You hastily stepped forward just to hide from Gojo when his fingers brushed against your wrist.
“Wait — “
“You look beautiful today.”
“I like your blouse, this colour suits you.”
“You curled your hair, right? I love the way they frame your face.”
The blue of his eyes pinned you to the ground as if you were a butterfly. Gojo’s lips parted, but the words never came, and slowly he let your hand go, letting the crowd in the elevator swallow you and take you away from him.
He inhaled slowly and stared at the ceiling.
What was the name of those flowers?
***
The next days passed in a blur as you started planning the event. Honestly, you hadn’t felt such a wave of excitement since…a long time ago. You didn’t blame your flower shop and Utahime, hell, you never could, but turned out when your hands weren’t constantly covered in all sorts of scraps, knees hurt from standing so much and back almost breaking from carrying the vases, you enjoyed your job well more.
Gojo kept his promise and didn’t contact you until it was absolutely necessary. However, you couldn’t hide the way your heart would skip a beat wherever he appeared at the venue or when he sent you a little emoji at the end of his texts. You told yourself not to live in illusions, but it became increasingly harder with his gaze caressing you, when Gojo thought you didn’t pay attention. The strange, tender ache in his eyes made your insides churn with some unspeakable feeling you weren’t ready to name at all, and for the sake of your mentality, you decided you would pretend it was a simple curiosity. The mug on his office table whispered insistently that you were wrong. You stubbornly shoved the thought away.
Gojo didn’t overstep, keeping your relationship on a faint, barely non-existent line of business partners and past acquaintances. Though sometimes he couldn’t help himself and…mishaps indeed happened.
For example, on your first day at the venue, you were greeted by an elegant bouquet of Juliet roses and pink hydrangeas. The florist in you critically examined the bouquet and admitted it was too your liking, but the thought that it was for you didn’t even cross your mind (tell about originality — giving flowers to the florist), when Gojo happened to peek in and noticed the bouquet didn’t move an inch.
“Is something wrong with the flowers? I thought you liked these roses.”
Too engrossed in your files, you didn’t even catch his words, staring mindlessly at the screen of your laptop, until a shadow loomed over the table and you begrudgingly had to look up. You stared at Gojo in confusion.
He nodded at the bouquet. “You didn’t like the flowers?”
Your brows knitted in confusion as you followed the direction of his gaze. “No. The composition is really good. I like the way the hydrangeas frame the roses. Juliet roses! The guy doesn’t play about his date,” you chuckled and added immediately. “Or the lady. Either way, the flowers are nice.”
A beat of silence passed between you, enveloping you in its warm embrace. A light pink dusted Gojo’s cheekbones, and he murmured in pretend nonchalance.
“So you didn’t check the card?”
Now you felt completely dumbfounded and slightly irritated that Gojo kept distracting you from the work at hand. “No, why would I —”
Your gaze briefly flicked to the flowers at one of the tables and back to Gojo, who kept eyeing with his usual intensity, stripping you bare of any defences. Then it hit you.
This bouquet was for you.
“Oh”, you murmured nervously, and forced a quick smile, involuntarily straightening up in a chair. Now you couldn’t wait to read the card. “I-I am sorry, I just thought. You know.” You twirled a pen between your fingers, mulling over the next words. There was a little excitement in telling your ex-situationship that you weren’t used to flowers. Usually, when the guys heard about you being the florist, they joked, “Then you are probably tired of seeing them,” as an excuse.
It stopped amusing you on the third date. On the fifth, you resisted the urge to smack them. On the tenth, you silently prayed they would shut up.
You muttered as politely as you could. “You didn’t have to, Gojo. Thank you.”
A strange melancholy lacing your voice didn’t go past Gojo. His tone hardened. “If you liked them, then I absolutely had to.”
He hated it. He absolutely hated the way your face dropped, sadness crept into your usual bright tone, and the smile became a little too tight around the edges. Despised how you automatically assumed the flowers weren’t for you. Hell, who else were they for?
And the thought of him being the reason you doubted yourself drove him insane to the point of keeping him awake in the night, browsing through your old photos; he couldn’t bring himself to delete. Not only as a memory of what he lost but as evidence of his own cowardice.
He tried to keep you at a distance, letting the contract and the strict confines of the agreement define you. He thought it would be easier this way.
But there was nothing easy about either of you. Never was. And in the end, he gave up. The lines blurred between you so hard that he couldn’t keep pretending anymore.
Satoru Gojo is a notorious demon - even Lucifer and Satan fear him, so how did you - a new angel - end up on an assignment with him!? The thing is, Satoru has loved you in countless lifetimes, and in every single one you both tragically die before your lives can really start together. From medieval to the regency era, to the most recent times, he always remembers you. When he finds out his love is an Angel in Heaven, where demons and angels can't be together? Well he'll burn heaven, hell and earth to be with you. But... will you remember him, and can you all break the cycle of reincarnation?
𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - demon! satoru x angel! reader
𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - very angstyyy, extremely emotional, forbidden love and doomed lovers - but with a happy ever after!! Explicit smut, holding his horns, use of that demon tail, cunnilingus, p in v sex, multi rounds, creampies, size kink (he's like 7ft) breed kink - 10.6k wc
this was a commission for @secretsofchance and I fell in love with this idea!! tysm my love <3 art in the middle is by @3aem !!
Satoru Gojo was the most notorious devil there was.
Everyone knows all about the demon that made Satan himself shake his head – all angelic looking and beautiful on the outside, those heavenly blue eyes and the snowy white hair, it was hard to realize he wasn’t one. Yet on the inside? Satoru was pure chaos – the most unhinged creature known to god or man.
How exactly did you end up paired with him of all immortals?
You – the most angelic of all angels, a relatively new one at that, some of these beings have been here for millenia, whereas you had died just a short time ago. You quickly made the ranks with your powerful presence, surpassing many – but of course you still have assignments to do, still have much to prove if you hope to rise further, and today is no different.
Today’s assignment against the Satoru Gojo just wasn’t even fair, everyone from your class (yeah, angels still had classes, fuck you all had jobs too) felt instantly terrible for you, no angel could ever win against Gojo’s influence. It was just a cruel thing to set you up against, but your instructor had it out for you, clearly.
You gave a brave smile as they looked at you with pity, hoping they would tell you it was some sort of joke, and they’d give you a real assignment, but no. Satoru Gojo is right there when that swirling, shimmering vortex sucks you right down to Earth, where you were to meet up with him.
When you first saw Satoru you sort of expected him to look more… demon like? Perhaps a bit like the dark haired, smirking Lucifer you’ve run across before – now he gave pure demonic energy. Of course many of you all had a little bit of a mix of both, no one was inherently good or evil, including angels and demons.
Yet Satoru was bright, he was pure and beautiful.
You can sense his power – it takes your breath when he flicks his pretty wings your direction, his eyes glowing an eerie blue as he smiles right at you, that tail flicking side to side.
You peer up at those horns on his head, they curve out just a bit and come to little points, blue tipped, glimmering underneath the sunlight. He tilts his head curiously as he walks up to you, gaze flitting across your pretty white wings, the ones you’ve just grown, your first wings were embarrassingly small.
Oh yeah, Angels and Demons still make fun of you too, the school is just as cliquey as college, actually more like high school, if you failed an assignment they’d straight up haze you. And the alcohol in heaven? Well it’s so damn strong it’ll make you dizzy, you all have a high tolerance due to the very nature of your beings, the first time you drank it they had all laughed at you.
Demons and Angels once hated each other, and fought constantly, but now they tended to work together. There had to be a balance on the earth, after all – not too much evil, not too much good. Necessary evils were something you couldn’t get behind, you always tried to do the ‘right thing’, whereas Satoru was notorious for delving in human pleasures, and living the life of debauchery.
“Look at you, a pretty new Angel,” he says with a little smirk, his fingers brushing against one of your feathered wings, you gasp as you feel it, black painted nails taking one and rubbing ever so softly.
You didn’t expect to have this reaction as an angel – not that you remember much of your human life at all, some people could, but you unfortunately lost much of it when you woke up here. You remember some sensations, including desire, love – you can almost taste it but it was so long ago, you couldn’t quite pinpoint it.
Your heart is racing in your chest, cheeks burning just being in his proximity, barely able to form a word. “So ya got assigned with me, huh?”
“I guess so,” you murmur, your eyes met with his chest, the strong muscles barely covered by the black dress shirt he’s wearing, covered in dark tattoos. His wings are black like most demons – leathery and scaled, but they’re lined with a pretty blue like his eyes.
Did Gojo choose to be a demon, or was he born as one?
He hums just a bit, looking over at the man you all are assigned to.
“Hah, this will be just too easy, I almost feel bad that you won’t pass your assignment, Angel.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” you say then, chin up just a bit. “I’ll pass.”
He grins at you. “Oh yeah? I like a little challenge, especially from a pretty little angel like you,” you blush furiously at that.
“I’ve heard you flirt as a tactic,” he gasps, hand to his chest.
“Me!? Never.”
“Mhm, won’t work on me,” you peer back at the blond man in the business suit now, smiling. “Can I go first?”
“Of course, Ladies first always,” Satoru inclines his head and watches as you morph into a ‘human’ form so that you could interact.
When you do his heart damn near stops, those memories of your human life together flooding, the many lives you all have shared together in fact – this was the first time you all didn’t end up in that loop once more. Yet in every lifetime, you always ended up recognizing him, including the most recent.
He’s glad you don’t remember dying, he really is, but to not remember him at all? To not feel anything, looking at him like he’s a stranger? He knew when he asked to be on this assignment that it would hurt, but how does Satoru not want to be near you in the afterlife too?
The Seraphs had expressly forbid him from helping you remember, you were an angel after all – the moment he found out you were in that realm with him, he’d destroyed the building the seraphim stayed in. They weren’t exactly happy with him, but no one fucked with Satoru Gojo – including Satan, God though?
God must just be doing this to fuck with him, he’s much crueler than Satan could ever hope to be.
In his human lives he was considered a god, it made sense he’d be extremely powerful in the heavenly realm, but for a moment he’s just a boy in love all over again, with that pretty girl he met one day in this very coffee shop. Even that doesn’t seem to jolt anything from you, either.
“What is it?” You ask curiously, he’s just studying you, he can’t even find the words to speak, his heart aching for you to know him once more. Yet to try to explain that to you? It would hurt your mind to try to get all those memories thrown right in your mind.
He could just touch your face and flood you with his own, that was an ability they all had – and his was finely tuned, much like his domain when he was a sorcerer, he could easily flood anyone’s mind and make them damn near still. Even heavenly beings had trouble handling it, though they would bounce right back, unlike humans.
Yet to send you just a bit of himself? One little memory? Your kisses, the first time he had you in his penthouse underneath him, pressing your hips into the bed? He’s throbbing just thinking of those memories – when he thought he’d never see you in this realm again, of course over years he has been with others sexually, but nothing came close to those human memories.
Even now he looks at that neck he’d bite, the collarbone he’d litter with all his kisses, pretty breasts rising and falling, making him ache to have them pressed against his chest once more. How could he handle not having you like he did before?
“Satoru, is something wrong?” He clears his throat and puts on a smile, playing the role of demon.
“You looked like this as a human?” He asks, keeping his tone husky, as if he didn’t know how the love of his lives looked.
“Um, yes, I didn’t change much like some of us do,” you’re nervous suddenly, Satoru is ethereally gorgeous, you have stayed human like. Not all glowy and insane looking like this demon. “Why?”
“You’re hot,” you blush again, looking down and then glaring. “What?”
“You’re flirting again!”
“Of course I am,” you roll your eyes, making him grin, leaning low with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “You like it.”
You as an angel, him a demon? It’s some cruel joke fate just loves to play on the two of you – always dying young together, never getting to just fucking grow old and have it easy. Satoru remembers every life vaguely too, not as vividly as the last one, but they’re little memories that meld into one.
You.
“Don’t you know the rules? Do you really…” you trail off now, flustered as vivid images of him flit your mind, this demon even makes your thoughts wicked! “With angels?”
“Angels, demons, humans,” he shrugs a shoulder and smirks. “I’ve fucked all of them.”
“Oh my god,” you’re blushing so furiously you have to touch your cheeks. “You’re just teasing me.”
“Nah I really have, but never an angel as sweet and cute as you, most are pretty ruthless.”
“I disagree,” you turn away from him, trying to gather your bearings a bit. “Can you explain our assignment?”
“Of course I can. Our assignment is a man named Nanami Kento, your task is to get him to choose a loving future over one of money,” Satoru tilts his head where there’s a girl in the coffee shop, and this Nanami is waiting in line. “My goal will be to tell him love is nonsense, and that he should make enough to retire young, and have all the wealth he wants.”
“Surely he’ll choose love? He looks like he really likes her,” Satoru chuckles at that, shaking his head at you.
“You’re so cute, Angel.”
“Pshh,” you flicker your wings, they’re invisible but he can still feel them smacking at him. “I’m pretty tough actually.”
“I’m scared, sweetheart,” Satoru morphs then to a ‘human’ form, which is just as freaking unworldly pretty as his demon one. You blink a bit, eyeing the white haired, tall man right in front of you. “Like what ya see?”
“You were a stupidly pretty human… if you were…”
“Yeah I was a human too,” he brushes his locks back, slipping on a pair of sunglasses he’s popped out of thin air. “My eyes get sensitive on earth.”
“Ah,” don’t fall for his demon charms! You’re an angel!
“Wanna place a little bet?”
“A bet?” He brushes your hair back off your shoulders, snowy lashes flickering down to your lips, they part under his gaze.
You don’t remember him at all, do you?
He’s so damn mad right now, every touch you've forgotten, every time he came home exhausted after a mission and you made sure to wash his back, to massage him down. Sucked his cock down your needy throat until he was whimpering for you – the strongest sorcerer in that timeline.
He's been a sorcerer in a few, in every one he has some sort of insane power, like it's his very curse, and you somehow always nullify it. Whether he was a demi God, a sorcerer, a vampire (yep, he somehow still ended up dying as an immortal) you weren't affected the way others were. As if you were built just for him.
“Yeah, a bet where you have to give me a kiss,” his words make your pretty eyes dilate, in every lifetime those stay the same, even if your features alter. Those eyes he's looked into for hundreds and hundreds of years.
“A kiss?” You get this dizzy sensation when Satoru is too close, like you've somehow been here before. Perhaps you came to this coffee shop once upon a time? “You w-want to kiss me if I lose?”
“Mhm,” he leans low, the sun is casting shadows across his cheeks from those round sunglasses, thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Haven't you kissed before, Angel?”
“Um… not in this form no,” you get flustered then, fidgeting a bit with your hands in front of you. “I'm sure I did as a human but I can't remember.”
“How long have you been an angel?” He asks then, brows lowering, still holding your chin in place.
“It's been five human years,” his heart sinks.
Have you been up there for…
As long as he has?
“At that academy?” He asks, his voice just a bit hoarse, of course there he wouldn't have been able to sense your energy. The school was highly protected and had a barrier around it, similar to his days as a student on earth. The thought that you were so close but so far tears him apart. “No angel caught your eye?”
“No,” you admit. That fills Satoru with far too much pleasure, he's nothing if not a jealous human and being a demon merely enhances all of those aspects, to imagine anyone having their hands on his angel, well Satoru would end up back in hell’s prison because he’d fucking kill them. “I’ve been so busy learning and training, I guess I’ve never thought of doing more in the afterlife.”
“Lots of angels and demons do,” he gently lifts your hair off your shoulders, letting his fingertips trace a face he’s known so well for hundreds of years, the one in his very dreams. “We won’t get in trouble for a kiss, but I wasn’t planning on telling anyone if you don’t.”
“All right, I’ll take the bet,” his lips quirk up in that smile, and you can’t help but imagine how they’d feel pressing all over your face, your body, wicked thoughts that are entirely unangelic! “What if I win?”
“You won’t.”
“Ugh! You’re a jerk!” You push his chest and he chuckles, but the moment you touch him you feel something, giving you pause. “Is that your power I’m feeling or…”
“Or what?” He asks quietly, holding your wrist, you swallow nervously and pull your arm back just a bit.
“It just felt really familiar,” you look at him again, was there some way you knew him as a human? “A kiss if you win, that’s all you want?”
“I’d like to pick where I kiss,” you’re blushing so brightly, the heat is emanating off your skin. “But I’ll let you pick if you win. How about that?”
“You get a kiss either way!”
“Yep,” you roll your eyes and sigh. “Is it a bet?”
“Sure, but if I win I may not let you kiss me,” you’re lying your ass off, you’d love to feel those pillowy lips upon yours.
“Sure, sweetheart, lemme see what you got.”
You walk into the coffee shop, the familiar aroma kicking in your senses, things you thought you had forgotten like a coffee before classes kick in now. You’d died in your early twenties, the day before your college graduation – you do know that, but not much else, but the nostalgia fills you when you stand behind the handsome man, who is peering at stock market graphs on his phone.
“Do you know the best drink to get?” You ask softly, the man turns around and smiles, tired hazel eyes seeming to be friendly and kind.
Surely this will be an easy one.
“I’m always getting the same thing,” he admits, shrugging a broad shoulder. “Americano.”
“Oh, I like something sweet maybe,” he nods a bit, peeking back at the girl from the counter. “She’s pretty.”
“She is – I mean!? She’s… I…” he clears his throat now, a faint blush slipping across sharp, hollowed cheeks. “You think so?”
“Very pretty, she seems so kind, like her energy?”
“Can you read energy?”
“I very much can,” you admit softly, moving as the line lessens, closer to the counter. “Hers is so lovely and serene.”
“What about mine?” He asks, lips twitching at the corners.
“Yours is a little hard to read,” you admit. “It’s very strong but also I see some turmoil, like you’re trying to find peace.”
“All right you scared me.” You laugh and shake your head. “Are you some sort of psychic?”
“Not at all, though I could see the two of you together,” you place a hand on his shoulder, using your own power now – yours is to calm anyone, and to have them see your own visions in their mind. It can be whatever you want. “Can’t you?”
You project an image of him on a beautiful beach with her, she’s in this cute bathing suit and they’re splashing all around, he seems utterly entranced, and for a moment you wonder if it could work.
That’s when Satoru cuts in line and stands right next to you, tugging your hand off his shoulder, you glare at him.
“Hey, Nanami, do you remember me?” He asks all brightly, as if he already knows the man, his hand on his shoulder now. “I was trading stocks with you.”
“Oh yes I think so,” your images of the girl are gone.
“They’re going up, it’s the perfect time to invest,” he grins all charming, you clear your throat and stand on his other side, hands behind your back, smiling all pretty up at the man.
“Yet I think that could wait, perhaps you should say hi to the pretty barista?”
“Baristas can wait,” Satoru chuckles, the sound deep and far too pleasing, his eyes glowing red for a moment when he looks at you – just for the briefest moment however. “Can’t they, Nanamin?”
“Uh…” He frowns and looks at the girl, who is giggling and looking up shyly, you watch a flush come on his cheeks once more, as he looks at you, then Satoru.
An angel and a devil on his broad shoulders.
“I suppose that’s true. I come here every day.”
“But today is so special! The energy,” you giggle and it’s like a little tinkling bell with your angelic form, it almost ruins Satoru himself, and leaves Nanami to contemplate, his brows drawing together. “Don’t you think?”
“It does feel like good energy,” the three of you walk up, Satoru resting an arm on his shoulders like they’re best friends.
“Ah, with the season coming up, it would be better to come to her with a fat stack of cash behind you, huh? Take her on the most extravagant date.”
“She doesn’t need all that,” you see Nanami start to rub his temples, wincing as you and Satoru scowl when he’s not looking. “She likes little thoughts and gestures, not extravagant shows.”
“What woman wouldn’t want a boat though?”
“Why would she need a boat!?”
He scowls at you. “Why wouldn’t she want a boat!?”
“Because she just thinks he’s hot as fuck,” Nanami clears his throat at your heated whispers, Satoru raises his brows now.
“Oh and do you?” You blush yourself now, covering your face and wanting to scream at this little shit.
“This is about her, not boats or if I find him hot! He is though,” Nanami blushes even brighter red. “Sorry, you are.”
“Wow, and I’m right here,” you narrow your eyes at his dramatic antics. “Don’t you think I’m hot?”
“In a conceited, pretentious way – you’re pretty.”
He gasps dramatically. “You little brat!”
“Um… I think I should go,” you both stop Nanami then, grabbing either side of his arms, trapping him there. “Do I know both of you?”
“Nanami, you really should ask for her number today,” you look over where you all are almost to the front, heart hammering in your chest. “It’s the perfect day.”
“I should…”
“But this stock is closing in twenty,” Satoru tugs him over to his side, grinning all charming again, he literally has fangs this bratty demon. “We can invite her to your boat, yeah?”
“What is it with boats!?” You hiss, but it’s too late, Nanami sighs, looking at you apologetically. “Nanami, you –”
“Thank you but I think I would like to focus on that first,” he smiles and disentangles your arm off him, patting your hand all friendly. “I don’t disagree that she’s very pretty, but I’ll be here again.”
You’re crushed later, rushing outside to cry in frustration, you failed the assignment and surely they would be furious with you over it! You’re hardly able to keep in how angry Satoru made you, normally such a calm angel, he made you want to act very demonic, especially when he walks up behind you, hands on your upper arms, his lips against your ear.
"Nice try, Angel," he murmurs.
“You’re being sarcastic!?” You look back at him, he shakes his head, suddenly very serious.
“I’m not, sweetheart, but you forgot one thing."
“F-forgot what?”
"Humans love money over almost anything,” you frown as you turn to watch him walk away from love through the cafe window. “Hey, it doesn’t mean he can’t find love later.”
“Yet he may have missed something special!” You spin around on him now, eyes glimmering with tears. “I know you’re a demon and things need balance, but what if she was his soulmate? His true love?”
Satoru can’t speak, not when he sees every aspect he’s ever loved about you right here – and in the forms where both of you can’t really be killed for once, where you all could have eternity together. The righteous, pretty little thing that you were standing now, looking up at him with her wings buzzing a million miles a minute, practically trembling with your temper.
“Hey, you tried really hard, I’m proud of you,” he murmurs, fingertips brushing across your jawline ever so carefully. “Yet it’s not his time to find love yet, he has more to accomplish first before he’s ready.”
“Life is so short, Satoru,” your lips tremble a bit now. “Look at me, I can’t even remember mine but I know I was young.”
He sighs and lets his fingers drop, taking your hand in his own. “Let me take you somewhere, it’s my favorite place on this planet.”
“Why would you show me that?”
“I just think it will calm you some,” you nod in agreement, he wraps an arm around your waist tightly. “I’ll transport us.”
“Not flying there?”
“No this is faster, just hold on,” you cling ever so tightly, arms wrapping around his neck, until you’re transported to the top of a beautiful mountain, snow flakes are falling but you don’t get cold as an Angel anymore. You still instinctively wrap your arms around yourself, looking at the pretty lights below, as snow falls along homes, roads and sidewalks, the street lights dusted with white powder.
“Oh it’s beautiful,” he lays his jacket right down on the ledge and gestures for you to sit next to him, you do just that, suddenly taking in the beauty of earth.
Heaven was breathtaking, but earth had its own charm, especially from this view. “This was a special place for me as a human.”
“It was?” You look up at him, suddenly realize how close he’s gotten, his breath puffing condensation as he speaks in little puffy clouds.
“It was very special, for me and the girl I loved,” he closes up a bit then, looking where your hands sit next to each other, slowly putting his over yours, blue eyes suddenly nothing like a demon.
Satoru looks like an angel.
“You remember your life before? I wish I did,” you admit now, moving just a little closer to him now. “She must have been so lucky to have your love, I can feel it radiating as you speak of her.”
“Yeah,” he laughs a bit without humor now, shutting his eyes for a moment. “I think I was the lucky one.”
“I can’t imagine having love like that,” you admit softly, hurting Satoru’s heart when you hold his hand carefully, delicately running your fingertips along the veins on his hand, the tattooed markings along them he got becoming a demon.
Satoru almost can’t speak, he instead puts on his charm and his lips quirk right up at you, tilting his head. “So you lost the bet, but I’ll let you pick – where I kiss you, or if I don’t.”
“You’ll let me decide?” you whisper, he nods, as your mind races, feeling his energy humming through your very veins. “I’d like a kiss on the lips, like I see others doing, like I think I remember doing?”
“I’ll kiss you anywhere you want, Angel.”
His words fucking ruin you, when he cups your face delicately, his nose brushing your own as he leans in, pressing a heated kiss on your mouth.
That’s when Satoru the demon overtakes you.
You’ve never felt this pressure in your core – as far as your memories can carry – the need white hot, your thighs press together when he pushes his lips against yours again, moaning softly into your mouth. His tongue slips inside and somehow you instinctively follow, hands finding purchase on his shoulders as his dark wings wrap both of you entirely.
You’re whining out, arching for his kisses, your breasts pressing against his chest, nipples tightening as he deepens the kiss, pulling back so you can catch a little breath.
“Where else should I kiss you, angel?” He asks, his eyes black with need, fire in their depths reflecting in his pupils, his hands grip your waist tightly, those wings leaving you both cocooned away from the world.
“My neck,” you say it like instinct, shutting your eyes then. “I said that.”
It was your weak spot, especially in Satoru’s vampire life, he can’t help but smile when his lips travel down, brushing a scorching hot path as his wings tug even tighter around you both. He bites on your neck, cock leaking milky drops that should be inside your body instead, huge hands sinking in either side as his mouth moves over your delicate skin.
“Mnh! Satoru…” You’re soaking wet from a few touches, damn near on his lap now beneath the darkness of his wings, he tugs you on a thigh and lets you straddle it, earning your gasp as you rock against him.
“I fucking missed you,” he says it before he can stop himself, you pull back and blink a bit, that spot on your neck already healing.
How would he leave marks on you like this?
“Did you know me?” You ask now, easing your hips so you brush against his thigh, he whimpers at the sensation, breath ghosting your swollen lips when he cups your face.
“Yeah angel, I knew you,” what a tiny way to say he came inside you and then fucked your cum back into your cunt with his fingers. That you sucked his cock in the back of a limo, and he buried his face against you on the kitchen counter when you baked him cookies.
He knew you all right.
“I wish I could remember,” your eyes get glossy, a tear falling, kissing him once more. “It feels so familiar, your presence, but I can’t-”
Suddenly a swirling vortex appears overhead, Satoru grimaces and tugs back, looking up at it and glaring. “Even as a fucking high ranking demon I have to answer to higher ups.”
“Oh my god I’ll be expelled! Or-”
“Shh,” he cups your face now, his wings releasing you as you come to stand, resting his forehead against yours for a brief moment. “I’ll protect the memory from anyone, trust me?”
Your hands come to his wrists, nodding. “I trust you.”
Satoru locks that memory right up and throws away the key, he’ll be damned if he lets anyone see you riding his thigh if they prod your mind. “There, it’s all sealed.”
“How do you do that?” you ask, the force of the vortex brushing your hair around your face.
“It’s one of my abilities,” he kisses you one more time, sighing. “You definitely knew me, but I can’t tell you how.”
“You can’t?”
“No,” he literally can’t, if he does something terrible would happen to you after signing that dumb fucking oath he can’t wait to burn.
*****
“We appreciate your efforts, but you did fail,” you stand before the council the next morning, your shoulders slumped, peeking over at Satoru the next day, his hands behind his back as he tilts his head.
Satoru had haunted your dreams last night – dreams no angel should ever have played in your mind over and over! Of his tail doing the most wicked things, his lips kissing every place he whispered about. You can’t shake that feeling, waking up soaking wet between your thighs for the first time in your Angelic form.
Satoru Gojo is a dangerous demon.
“Let her have one more assignment with me,” Satoru offers as you both stand there under that scrutiny, smiling all charming at everyone and making even the firmest angels melt. “It wasn’t fair to put anyone up against me, give her one more shot.”
“Are you standing up for an angel?” The dean says, raising a brow.
“She really tried hard, I will give her a bit of a head start this time, hmm?”
“All right, one more.”
“Oh thank you!” You’re fluttering your wings all excitedly, pretty smile on your face that melts Satoru’s heart.
“Your next assignment and test is a man named Suguru Geto, you have the choice to have him give into his darkness, or find the light,” the dean looks over at Gojo now. “Play fair, no cheating.”
“I’d never cheat! Demon’s honor,” he snorts as Satoru raises two fingers up, before he and you walk out of the room, you hug him tightly and he pauses.
To feel you in his arms again.
Satoru hugs you close to him, burying his face in your hair and inhaling, sighing at just how good you feel, how good your scent fills his nostrils, your wings brushing against his own. Yours – golden white feathers – his, that black and blue leather, everything about the two of you is a contrast.
Yet when you smile up all shy, your eyes darting to his lips, he can’t help but throb in need. “You can’t kiss me here, slutty little angel.”
“Excuse me!” You shove at him and he chuckles, fuck you’ve always been so damn cute ro rile up. “I wasn’t thinking of that!?”
“Sure you weren’t,” he brushes his lips on yours and feels you melt, pulling back before the two of you could be caught, sighing now. “The assignment is for a couple days on earth, we will be all alone.”
“What would you do alone with me?” You whisper, your lashes lowering, Satoru sighs and brushes his lips against your cheek, tail slipping up your dress, teasing you over your panties. You barely hold back a moan, hands clinging to his biceps, unable to stop the pull.
It’s like this devil is pulling you with his gravity, like you’re about to crash into him at any moment, and there’s nothing in heaven, hell or earth that could stop it – nor would you want to. You feel so right in his arms, in a way you can’t explain, how he holds you like this, how you feel his strength, his head.
“I’d do things that would make an angel like you blush,” he teases, lips pressed on your ear now. “Lick your pretty cunt that’s soaking wet.”
“Lick it? Ah!”
“Shh,” he chuckles, his tail pressing higher against your puffy lips, hands gripping your waist tightly. “Let you tug on my horns and fuck my face, then pump you full of my cum.”
“You’re wicked!”
“Demon, remember?” You giggle and bite your lip, lashes fluttering when his tail moves once more. “Let’s go before someone comes out.”
“Y-yes…”
You let Gojo lead you out, as you prepare for your assignment on earth – the second one, but you can’t stop the visions from flooding in your mind.
Satoru and you alone together.
*****
Under disguise as humans – fake ids and all – you and Satoru are alone in a fancy lovers’ suite, after studying your next human assignment. Satoru is of course supposed to convince him that power is more important than anything, you’re to convince him that love and friendship are what truly matters, the two of you observing him before you approach.
The first night alone with Satoru has you aching between your thighs, has you weak and shaky, the two of you were pretending to be a married couple so of course there was just one bed, with your wings it’s like there’s no damn room. He’s laying on his side, shirtless just staring at his phone when you set down your own, leaning over to put it on the nightstand.
You’re just in this little white slip, looking like the prettiest angel he’s ever laid his goddamn eyes on, when you clear your throat, propping your head up on a hand like he is, your other running up and down the sheets. His tail flicks up and down, eyes glowing bright blue when you murmur his name softly.
“Hmm?” You lean a little closer, a hand brushing against his bicep, tracing the little tattoo running across it. “You like the marks?”
“They’re pretty,” he chuckles a bit, and your eyes lock. “What?”
“You’re fucking pretty,” you blush so damn cute he aches, his tail wrapping around your thigh, making you gasp a bit. “Every inch of you.”
“How do you know?” You ask softly, biting down on the plush of your lower lip. “Were we intimate, Satoru?”
“You could say that,” his voice is hoarse, breaking in the middle when he sees your eyes dilate, his tail slipping underneath your slip and tickling the curve of your ass, watching your lips part with desire. “Very intimate, I enjoyed drinking you up.”
“Drinking…” You’re burying your face against his neck, in every lifetime you seem to be a little innocent sweetheart, it makes so much sense you’re an angel, Satoru is always some sort of slut till he remembers you exist.
The moment he gets that vision of you, no one exists, every time the memories flood in he knows he’ll do anything to have you. It’s like he doesn’t even know how he exists before you, they all become distant memories the moment you run into him, whether it’s literally smacking into his chest on a sidewalk, or in the coffee shop you all met last time, a bar after a breakup…
Any way he’s ever met you – once it was at a ball in the seventeen hundreds, and Satoru courted you and all, he was quite the rake so it was the talk of the ton. Before that he remembers stealing you from your noble little knight, and capturing you to bring you right on his ship – of course he was a pirate too.
Satoru’s always something crazy in his lives, you’re always a princess, a sweet girl, an angel. You’re the very thing that makes him complete, with her breath on his neck, making him ache – this time he did remember, but he thought you were never going to come, thought you’d live a long human life and reincarnate, Satoru never knew you were so close but so far.
“You are a wicked demon to make me feel so…”
He smirks. “Wet?”
“You’re the worst,” he chuckles and tilts your chin up, that slip tugged up over your hips, his tail just teasing your inner thighs, gathering the slick that’s already dribbled.
“Do you want me to make you feel good, pretty angel?” He whispers softly, leaning over you with his wings spreading out, you take a shaky breath as you feel his heavy weight over you, nodding and swallowing nervously.
“I want it,” he moans and kisses you again, so desperately you pause, pulling back for a breath, seeing his eyes glowing. “I feel so…”
“What, sweetheart?” He slips his fingers down your front, between your breasts, gripping one and pressing a kiss on the underside of your chin.
“At home,” he pauses and looks up at you, emotions rushing in his eyes, seeing the color tinge your cheeks. “That sounds so silly, please… I want more…”
“I’ll give you more, then,” he moans and kisses down your body, tugging a tit out and sucking on one, the peak in his hot mouth pebbling right up, his tail wrapping right around your thigh, tugging it up. “You want me to lick your pretty cunt?”
“Please,” his strength is far beyond yours, his hands shoving your thighs up, those long nails barely touching your skin, leaving little marks that fade the moment he puts them higher. “You sure, angel? Gonna let a demon touch you?”
Your hands go to his horns, making him whimper, his tail teasing your slit over your panties. “Didn’t you say I can hold these?”
“You sure fucking can,” Satoru moans when you arch your hips. “Put me where you want.”
You’re controlling the high ranking demon – Satoru Gojo – one of the most powerful creatures in heaven or hell, tugging him low until his breath ghosts where you’re most sensitive, his horns cool and smooth in your grip. He laps his long tongue right up it, gathering the juices that have spilled, your head falls back, wings fluttering underneath you.
“Mnh! Take em off, please,” you whisper desperately, he sighs and eases them down, cock rutting on the mattress, so needy he can’t take it.
“Fuck your pussy is just as pretty as it always is,” you blink a bit in confusion, but his mouth is on you in moments, and every thought is licked from you – his head buried against you. His tail wraps around to tease your nipples even as his tongue fucks your needy hole. “Mmm you’re so sweet, Angel.”
Your answer is to spread wider – there’s no hesitation like you thought, not when it feels so fucking right, him devouring you like he’s always known you. His tongue flattens on your clit as he moans, vibrating against your core, having you leak and drool right down his mouth, dripping down his chin as he slurps it right up. The sounds are obscene, mixing with your soft, angelic little cries.
This demon’s powers, overtaking you with his strength, how his dark wings spread and cast shadows across the two of you and the bed, casting against the wall his large form. Satoru’s almost seven feet tall in his demon form, where your angel is much smaller, the size difference alone steals your breath.
Demons were tall but not as tall as him, Satoru was just extra and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it. You feel the difference even more with his huge hands wrapping you around the waist, his big body taking you over as his fingers touch that syrupy mess dripping down your slit, gathering it and pushing in. And fuck his fingers are long, so long they press your cervix.
“Ah! S-so deep…” You’re struggling to take just two fingers, he sighs against you, breath making you jump, his lips burning hot like a brand when they press a kiss on your hood again.
“You can take me,” he whispers, looking up under his thick fringe of white lashes, his fingers crooking against that spot in your tacky little walls, pushing up until you’re shattering. “That’s it, you’re made f’me.”
“M-made for… Satoru!” He groans and slurps at your clit, scissoring those fingers in and out so fast it’s utterly inhuman, you’re so goddamn wet they’re slipping, his sharp teeth come to bite your clit teasingly. “Ah! F-fuck…”
“An angel cussing,” he laughs softly, licking his teeth with that long tongue, before flicking it on your clit like an apology. “Tsk, what would heaven say?”
“They’d be m-more concerned about a demon licking me,” he snorts and you can’t help but giggle, turning into a broken moan when he uses those long fingers and his tongue swirls your clit, making you jolt and cry out.
“That’s it,” he whispers, cock throbbing so badly he could cum from sipping that flavor that’s coated his tongue for centuries. “Cum all over me, sweetheart.”
There’s no option not to, not when his long fingers curve up and hit your sweet spot, and you’re spasming, gushing, tugging his horns even harder as his free hand presses on your tummy, making the pressure unbearable. You’re spasming around those fingers, body lit on every nerve ending like you’re floating – even better than flying, this feeling.
You’re dizzy, like you’re not tethered to anything when he presses another kiss and looks up at you. “So beautiful cumming for me.”
That’s when it hits.
When you look at him and he’s leaning up, fingers rocking in and out of your cunt, and your hands grip his biceps, he pauses when he sees your wide eyes, as everything starts swirling, morphing into one Satoru Gojo. Always those baby blue eyes, always the ones that look at you with utter devotion, even when he’s irritated, or when you argued.
Arrogant and conceited in every timeline, too fucking powerful – he’s always the yin to your yang, you’re soft and sweet and he’s cold and ruthless on the exterior, but with you? He was sweet, silly, hilarious and loving.
Your Satoru, how could you not remember for so long?
“What is it, Angel?”
“Toru…” He pauses at that name, his fingers slip out gently, leaving you empty – tears slipping from his eyes and dripping crimson against your white slip, soaking the fabric and staining it with those bloody tears.
“You remember?” He asks softly, cupping your face with his clean hand, the other gripping your thigh, tugging it around his hip.
You remember a sorcerer, remember his power and what happened to him, then what happened to you after, your tears slipping down your cheeks, sniffling as he kisses your brow, your nose.
“Oh Toru you… I can’t believe I didn’t… five years…”
“It’s all right,” he whispers, looking down at you now. “I didn’t even know you were in heaven, they fucking kept you from me.”
“Why?” He shakes his head, resting it on yours and swallowing his emotions, your tears glitter like pretty diamonds, his like dark garnet, mixing together as you both hold each other tightly, breaths mingling together, hearts racing.
“I keep asking myself why,” he whispers, kissing you desperately, you fall apart underneath him. “Mmm, why can’t I fucking have you? Grow old and have babies with you?”
“Oh,” you’re emotional, your energy humming and radiating from your skin so bright, a contrast to Satoru’s darkness, kissing him again, this time with that familiarity that had been driving you insane. “I wanted that too, I wanted it.”
“Me to fill you with babies, pretty angel?” He whispers all husky, tugging down his pants and lining his cock up with your entrance, you’re already quivering around nothing, waiting to be full – that familiar fullness your entire soul memorizes that sensation.
“It’s insane now, w-we can’t…”
He cuts you off softly. “We can do anything you fucking want, we can’t die again baby,” he tugs your slip down, exhaling and looking at your pretty nipple, capturing it with his mouth. “I’d burn down any timeline for you.”
“I don’t w-want you to have to burn it all, I just… Toru in me, please,” you beg now, as he slips his tip up and down your needy slit, feeling her all greedy trying to suck him in.
“You forget you’re always innocent,” he teases, nose brushing yours, his eyes lidded as he eases his tip inside, watching your lips part with your gasp. “Angelic I would say.”
“And you’re slutty, demon,” you scowl and he laughs softly, shaking his head. “Couldn’t wait for me to come into existence, hmm?”
“I will make it all up to you, pretty, slutty little angel,” he shoves his cock deep inside, he’s even bigger like this, his cock stretching you out so much it’s hard to take. He’s groaning as you clamp down on him, his tail teasing your nipple, hands enwrapping your hips and dragging you down. “Fuck, feel her grip me, baby…”
He leans back and shoves your slip up higher with his tail, looking at the bulge as he moves in and out – his cock print right on your tummy. “Toru!”
“You’re so full, aren’t you?” His eyes glow so bright they’re hard to look at, fingers digging into your hips brutally, but you can take it – he’s never been able to really go rough with you, but your body is much stronger. “You were made to take me.”
“Please,” you murmur, lips trembling. “Move, please.”
“Anything for you,” he starts to ease his cock in and out of your slick cunt, watching it drip down his ten inches, of course it doesn’t all fit inside, but watching your puffy folds try to take him has him groaning desperately, your eyes fluttering shut. "Ah - ah, look at me."
You force your eyes open, meeting his burning gaze, lips parting in a ragged little gasp as he starts to move faster, shoving your thighs up, his arms resting right on the backs of them. “S-so much… pressure, nghh!”
"You can take me angel,” he whispers, wings covering the two of you carefully, enshrouding you in the darkness so the only light was his eyes, that glow even brighter with every stroke. “I want to see you fall apart for me."
His tail, which had been teasing your nipple, now snakes lower, the pointed tip circling your clit and flicking right against it, Satoru already knows every weak spot, every sensitive part of your body, things you don’t know or remember. He’s fucking into you as he circles your clit, pulling back to study you in the soft lights of the suite.
“You’re close,” he murmurs, watching your every expression as he tries not to bust fast – his sweet angel better cum at least three times before he does. “Let go for me, lemme feel you soak my cock."
Your nails press into his tattooed biceps, those markings lit up as he moans and sucks in a breath, feeling you spasm around him – your climax rushes through your body even harder than from his tongue. You’re drooling, babbling nonsense, eyes rolled back in your skull, as if being an angel enhances how sex felt before – and Satoru had always been able to fuck you dumb.
Yet he’s so fucking big like this, his cock has inches not inside you, so thick you’re split apart on him, his heavy weight ruining you. He’s whispering your last name – the one you forgot, mumbled and mixed with angel, pretty, sweetheart, his rhythm maddening as his tail flicks away.
Satoru laps your glittery slick right off it in the sluttiest little action, grinning down at you with those fangs of his, kissing you and using his tail to tug your body further down him.
“Wanna watch you ride me, baby, fuck… please?”
You flush and nod, he switches your positions so quickly you’re dizzy, rising and lowering yourself on his cock, your white and gold tipped wings extending. He moans at the sight of his angel, his huge hands snaking up to brush right between them, trailing up your spine and making you moan, gushing impossibly more down him.
"Fuck, yes… just like that… milk me, hah - doin’ s’good,” you giggle breathless and he narrows his pretty eyes. “You’re laughing? Should I make you take it all?”
“N-no, ah!” Satoru tugs you down until he bottoms out, bruising your cervix, your wings close up and flutter, cunt drooling as she tries to take as much as she can. “I was just remembering – you talk a lot during sex. And you whimper.”
“You brat,” you’re grinning all pretty and angelic, Satoru sighs now, leaning up on his elbows, his wings flaring wide, as he buries himself as deep as he can go, kissing your throat then looking at himself in your tummy, whimpering. “F-fine, yes I do… but it’s always your fault.”
“I love it,” you whisper, affectionately as you cup his face, tears spilling from your eyes even as you’re about to be flooded with him. “I love you.”
He pauses and then loses it, sucking on your tit and ripping your slip to shreds, moving you up and down him faster, an inhuman pace that you would not be able to take as a human. You’re barely clinging to him as he rocks into you, whining out when he starts pulsing, ready to fill you up, lost in everything about you.
“You still love me, baby?” He whispers, looking up at you with devotion in his eyes, you nod quickly, swallowing down your emotions.
“I love you, please… inside…” He groans and you feel him swell inside you, his pretty whines escaping those plump lips, his tail wrapping your waist as his wings spread wide and then circle your body.
“Gonna put so much inside you, angel,” he whispers, kissing you desperately – a hot, thick flood of white coating you as he spills himself into your needy hole. “That’s it, takin’ it all f’me… angel…”
“S-so much…” You’re gushing him down, a mess of white and gossamer on his pretty, veiny cock, he eases you off and flips you back, hovering over you and slipping his tail to scoop the mess you’re spilling. “Toru that tail i-is… diabolical…”
“Imma demon, sweetheart,” he grins all bright, breathless as his tail slips that cum right back inside you, snug in your fucked out cunt. You gasp at it, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “I need it to stay inside, we’ll have our own little army – little hybrids.”
“Crazy,” you shake your head, but you’re too far gone, when he’s already hard and ready again.
“I am,” he admits softly, kissing you deeply, then grinning. “Wanna fuck in the air?”
“In the air!”
“I wanna fuck you on every inch of heaven, hell and earth,” he whispers, batshit insane as he slips his fingers down your hips, looking at your body lovingly. “Cum drippin’ all over every inch.”
You had forgotten just how insane the love of your life was.
*****
The next day
Before you all can even finish the assignment the next day, you both were having a cute little competition and bet, giggling and forgetting for a moment all the reasons this can’t work – when a vortex is summoned, making you both tense as it all crashes down. Tears already prick your eyes, sniffling as Satoru picks you up in his arms, sighing and looking up at it.
“Toru, I’m scared…” You whispered right before it sucked you both in, he had cupped your face then, shaking his head.
“I’ll never let you go again.”
He promised that before.
It echoes in his mind when they immediately have shackles ready for you once you’re back up in heaven – golden ones that’ll sap your power, Satoru’s helpless as they chain him right up with you. Your eyes are terrified, and Satoru’s heart is ripped into pieces, both of you thrown in the same cellar and told you’re to ‘face a trial’.
There are no fair ‘trials’ in heaven when it comes to angels and demons, especially for Satoru.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs that night, the cell is dark and fucking horrible, and the bars have blocked any magic or abilities. He’s holding you close when you bury your head against his neck. “Shh, I’m here.”
“It was worth it to be with you again,” your words break his soul, as he tugs you even closer to him, your tears hot against his neck. Satoru swallows and covers you up with his wings as you shiver, trying to comfort you. “I don’t know why they always take you from me.”
“Angel…” He swallows his emotions as you break down, your energy crackling and radiating to the point of pain as he feels it.
“I don’t know why, and I can never take it when you go,” you look up at him with a tear streaked face now. “I always die right after you because I can’t live when you go.”
“Sweetheart, I…” He doesn’t know what to say, brushing your hair back as his tears threaten to spill.
You do always die right after, and he never knows from what.
“A broken heart,” you answer softly. “I can’t eat or sleep when you go, I know you’d want me to live but maybe I’m selfish, too.”
He sighs and swallows. “That’s because without you there is no me, either,” he answers quietly. “I’d do the fucking same. But it won’t come to that, it’s different this time.”
“I just got you back,” you whisper, breaths rising and falling as he holds you close to him, those chains making it difficult to move as they dig into your wrists but you both still manage. “Only a day of remembering.”
“I’ll fix this. Do you trust me?” He asks, and you implicitly nod. “Then get some rest, who knows how long it’ll be before I can see someone.”
“Okay Toru,” you snuggle in his arms and fall into a fitful little slumber, but Satoru stays awake.
He’s not going to let this stand after everything he’s been through.
He lays you down quietly later that night when he leans forward on those bars, working his charm on the guard, even without his powers – Satoru is disarming. “Hey, how about I grant you one wish, and you let me just have a word with the seraphs?”
“A wish? Nah… I…”
“Bet you’d love to hook up with that pretty angel from your class, hmm?” Satoru grins and his eyes flash ruby. “I could make her fall in love with you.”
*****
“What on heaven are you doing out!?” The head archangels stand in formation when Satoru comes flying through their damn roof – he’s always had a bit of a flair for dramatics, but also fuck them.
“I came for my fucking ‘trial’.” He flies across to where they sit at their big fancy tables, the sky is already storming, rain is starting to fill the once immaculate building, he smirks at the fear on even the most powerful members of heaven’s faces.
“Seize him at once-”
“Let him speak,” the tallest archangel – well over ten foot comes over, Satoru’s always found them pretty fucking creepy if he’s being honest. All those damn eyes all over their body, feathers on their faces, they’re imposing even to a tall demon like him, but he walks forward, the chains still binding him. “This is about your lover.”
“She’s more than my lover, she’s my fucking soulmate,” he scoffs now, coming closer until he’s looking up at the massive archangel who will help decide his judgement.
“We know you all are fated, but your union cannot be. It will lead to all sorts of issues for Heaven, Hell and Earth.”
“I’ll burn down Heaven, Hell and fucking Earth for her,” Satoru says, the sheer force of his energy making everything in the enormous building shake and tremble, dust from the plaster falling over the imposing archangels heads, more rain pouring from the gray clouds. “Think I care!?”
“That’s the problem, in every lifetime your love leads to destruction,” the archangel approaches Satoru now, he laughs and tugs the golden chains meant to control his power like it’s nothing, immediately freeing his wrists. “That’s the reason you keep losing her.”
“I will not fucking lose her again,” his tears slip from his eyes now, heart hammering in his chest as he thinks of his pretty angel locked up because of him. “Just let us fucking be happy, god for once stop this. I will bring destruction to everything if I don’t get to have her.”
“Say we let you,” Satoru’s hands are around his neck, squeezing the archangel with ease, the others move to help but he holds up a hand. “She’s an angel, you’re a demon – we didn’t choose that, you two did.”
“Then I’ll make it to where what you are doesn’t matter, I’ll make it where angels and demons can fuck if they want, have babies if they want.”
“The precedent of this was-”
“I don’t care what tales you spin of what came before,” Satoru squeezes even harder, one more ounce of pressure and he’d kill this archangel with ease, he remains eerily calm. “She is mine. I will take her far away if that’s what you need, but she’s all mine and I won’t be without her.”
“Let go, son,” Satoru scoffs at the name, letting him go. “I’ll convene with God for a moment.”
“God caused all this, I’d love to fucking talk to him,” he steps back then, the others approach but halt as the head archangel holds up his hand.
“Your love is clear and pure, even if you’re a sinful devil,” Satoru smirks just a bit, and he closes his eyes, palm still raised.
It’s quiet in the room, for a long moment, when finally he opens his eyes, calm and serene, looking at Satoru carefully. “Well what did the big, scary sky man say?”
His lips twitch in a little bit of humor now. “You both can have immortal lives, and you can try to change heaven's hierarchy. Who is god to punish his children, even the demonic ones?”
“Fuck,” he exhales, his eyes shutting now. “Please get my Angel out of that shitty prison.”
“Satoru,” he says, earning fierce blue eyes. “If you both bring on destruction, just remember we tried to stop it.”
“I just want to fuck and kiss my goddamn girlfriend,” every angel gasps, Satoru just rolls his eyes. “I just want to be with her, whatever destruction shit you’re speaking of – I guess I’ll figure it out. Are we free from this cycle?”
“There are no more reincarnations for either of you,” he steps back now, gesturing to one of the seraphs. “Can you make the order to let her out?”
*****
“Satoru!” You’re jumping in his arms when he greets you, trembling from being chained up, he brushes those marks smoothly with his touches, his wings wrapping around the two of you.
“Angel,” he whispers, feeling your warmth against his skin, the scent that he can’t ever get out of his mind in any life filling his senses. “So how do you feel about a trip down to hell?”
“Hell!” You gasp and he chuckles now, tilting his head, his horns glinting from the light.
“I have approval to be with you down there if I help run things – Lucifer isn’t keen on taking Satan’s position just yet. We can be here too but the judgement would be much worse than down there.”
You grin then, your little wings fluttering gold, skin taking on this glowy sheen. “Can we still visit here? And Earth?”
“We can do whatever the fuck you want,” he kisses your lips, right in front of the onlooking angels and seraphs. “Don’t you know I alone in heaven and earth am the honored one?”
“You’re conceited in every lifetime,” he pauses at that, lips parted, watching as your eyes get glassy. “Satoru Gojo, I’d choose you a million times over, even if it meant dying young, if it meant short lives. I’d never choose differently.”
“Even if I couldn’t give you an old, happy life? Kids?” He’s crying too, crimson drops as thick as blood, you swipe it off his perfect cheeks, feeling his tail wrap around you tightly.
“I would always choose you,” he kisses you, holding you so tightly you think you might break from the force.
“Come with me,” he shoots you both up into the air with his huge wings in the sky, the rush of wind brushing cool against your skin, you welcome it eagerly after the suffocating confinement of the celestial prison. Heaven shrinks below you into just puffy clouds, islands scattered.
“It’s so beautiful, but…” you drift off, and he understands without you saying – heaven was a gilded cage, your cycles of constant reincarnation were a prison.
For once you feel so free, with his strong arms around you, his eyes glowing red around those blue irises, as you are floating in the air with him. “I’m bringing you to my home.”
“In hell?” You tease, he grins. “All right, take me there.”
“Hold on to me,” you do just that, burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent that is so achingly familiar you can’t believe you couldn’t place it before. In moments he’s got you in a decadent room, Hell is not burning hot like you thought though it’s warmer, brighter than heaven. “Are you dizzy?”
“Just a bit,” you admit, looking at his bed and biting your lower lip, in moments your clothes are gone, just your wings wrapping your body slightly, as Satoru kisses your neck, and you tug at his horns.
“Oh fuck,” he groans and eagerly pulls his cock out, lifting your hips so you’re suspended in the air, his tip slipping against your slick entrance. “I’m gonna put so many fucking babies inside you, have half demons, huh? Half angels hah – carry so many won’t you?”
“Please do it,” uncaring of whatever fucking consequence it was, you cling to his horns and arch your back, his tail wraps your thigh and flicks your clit, as his cock sinks inside, bulging your tummy. “Put em in me – Mnh! Toru…”
He pauses as you call him that nickname, the one you always have found for him, he tilts your head for a moment, his huge hand bigger than your entire face, thumb brushing your cheek. “You always call me that, angel, I wonder why?”
“Y-you always call me angel,” he smirks at that, kissing your lips and shoving his cock in deep again, your hands tighten as you arch for more, letting him hold you suspended with his cock buried deep. “Did you just know?”
“Maybe I did know,” he moans and his eyes flutter shut for a moment, opening and going from ruby back to bright blue, wings enshrouding your own much smaller ones, that tail toying with your twitchy clit till you’re about to break. “I’m never fucking letting you go again, Angel. I need to make up for so much time.”
“H-how are we making it – ah – up?” He chuckles at how cute you are, your thighs trembling, slick dripping down onto the floor as he moves his huge, veiny cock inside you.
“By pumping my angel full of cum every day,” you whimper at that, Satoru grins devilishly against your neck, letting you tug his horns as his tip kisses your puffy cervix. “I don’t fucking care if we destroy it all, I just want you.”
“Then take me,” Satoru moans and gives you all of him – whispering filthy things in your angelic ears, of the way he plans to put babies in you, how he wants to take over heaven and hell so your kids can rule both – powerful, insane strokes of his cock and husky, devilish words.
You’re Satoru Gojo’s angel, and he’s not letting you go ever again.
i loved this SO MUCH my heart was breaking and I was crying ahhh - I hope you all enjoyed <3
Patreon for more exclusive fics <3 comms closed for the moment!
Satoru Gojo is a notorious demon - even Lucifer and Satan fear him, so how did you - a new angel - end up on an assignment with him!? The thing is, Satoru has loved you in countless lifetimes, and in every single one you both tragically die before your lives can really start together. From medieval to the regency era, to the most recent times, he always remembers you. When he finds out his love is an Angel in Heaven, where demons and angels can't be together? Well he'll burn heaven, hell and earth to be with you. But... will you remember him, and can you all break the cycle of reincarnation?
𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - demon! satoru x angel! reader
𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - very angstyyy, extremely emotional, forbidden love and doomed lovers - but with a happy ever after!! Explicit smut, holding his horns, use of that demon tail, cunnilingus, p in v sex, multi rounds, creampies, size kink (he's like 7ft) breed kink - 10.6k wc
this was a commission for @secretsofchance and I fell in love with this idea!! tysm my love <3 art in the middle is by @3aem !!
Satoru Gojo was the most notorious devil there was.
Everyone knows all about the demon that made Satan himself shake his head – all angelic looking and beautiful on the outside, those heavenly blue eyes and the snowy white hair, it was hard to realize he wasn’t one. Yet on the inside? Satoru was pure chaos – the most unhinged creature known to god or man.
How exactly did you end up paired with him of all immortals?
You – the most angelic of all angels, a relatively new one at that, some of these beings have been here for millenia, whereas you had died just a short time ago. You quickly made the ranks with your powerful presence, surpassing many – but of course you still have assignments to do, still have much to prove if you hope to rise further, and today is no different.
Today’s assignment against the Satoru Gojo just wasn’t even fair, everyone from your class (yeah, angels still had classes, fuck you all had jobs too) felt instantly terrible for you, no angel could ever win against Gojo’s influence. It was just a cruel thing to set you up against, but your instructor had it out for you, clearly.
You gave a brave smile as they looked at you with pity, hoping they would tell you it was some sort of joke, and they’d give you a real assignment, but no. Satoru Gojo is right there when that swirling, shimmering vortex sucks you right down to Earth, where you were to meet up with him.
When you first saw Satoru you sort of expected him to look more… demon like? Perhaps a bit like the dark haired, smirking Lucifer you’ve run across before – now he gave pure demonic energy. Of course many of you all had a little bit of a mix of both, no one was inherently good or evil, including angels and demons.
Yet Satoru was bright, he was pure and beautiful.
You can sense his power – it takes your breath when he flicks his pretty wings your direction, his eyes glowing an eerie blue as he smiles right at you, that tail flicking side to side.
You peer up at those horns on his head, they curve out just a bit and come to little points, blue tipped, glimmering underneath the sunlight. He tilts his head curiously as he walks up to you, gaze flitting across your pretty white wings, the ones you’ve just grown, your first wings were embarrassingly small.
Oh yeah, Angels and Demons still make fun of you too, the school is just as cliquey as college, actually more like high school, if you failed an assignment they’d straight up haze you. And the alcohol in heaven? Well it’s so damn strong it’ll make you dizzy, you all have a high tolerance due to the very nature of your beings, the first time you drank it they had all laughed at you.
Demons and Angels once hated each other, and fought constantly, but now they tended to work together. There had to be a balance on the earth, after all – not too much evil, not too much good. Necessary evils were something you couldn’t get behind, you always tried to do the ‘right thing’, whereas Satoru was notorious for delving in human pleasures, and living the life of debauchery.
“Look at you, a pretty new Angel,” he says with a little smirk, his fingers brushing against one of your feathered wings, you gasp as you feel it, black painted nails taking one and rubbing ever so softly.
You didn’t expect to have this reaction as an angel – not that you remember much of your human life at all, some people could, but you unfortunately lost much of it when you woke up here. You remember some sensations, including desire, love – you can almost taste it but it was so long ago, you couldn’t quite pinpoint it.
Your heart is racing in your chest, cheeks burning just being in his proximity, barely able to form a word. “So ya got assigned with me, huh?”
“I guess so,” you murmur, your eyes met with his chest, the strong muscles barely covered by the black dress shirt he’s wearing, covered in dark tattoos. His wings are black like most demons – leathery and scaled, but they’re lined with a pretty blue like his eyes.
Did Gojo choose to be a demon, or was he born as one?
He hums just a bit, looking over at the man you all are assigned to.
“Hah, this will be just too easy, I almost feel bad that you won’t pass your assignment, Angel.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” you say then, chin up just a bit. “I’ll pass.”
He grins at you. “Oh yeah? I like a little challenge, especially from a pretty little angel like you,” you blush furiously at that.
“I’ve heard you flirt as a tactic,” he gasps, hand to his chest.
“Me!? Never.”
“Mhm, won’t work on me,” you peer back at the blond man in the business suit now, smiling. “Can I go first?”
“Of course, Ladies first always,” Satoru inclines his head and watches as you morph into a ‘human’ form so that you could interact.
When you do his heart damn near stops, those memories of your human life together flooding, the many lives you all have shared together in fact – this was the first time you all didn’t end up in that loop once more. Yet in every lifetime, you always ended up recognizing him, including the most recent.
He’s glad you don’t remember dying, he really is, but to not remember him at all? To not feel anything, looking at him like he’s a stranger? He knew when he asked to be on this assignment that it would hurt, but how does Satoru not want to be near you in the afterlife too?
The Seraphs had expressly forbid him from helping you remember, you were an angel after all – the moment he found out you were in that realm with him, he’d destroyed the building the seraphim stayed in. They weren’t exactly happy with him, but no one fucked with Satoru Gojo – including Satan, God though?
God must just be doing this to fuck with him, he’s much crueler than Satan could ever hope to be.
In his human lives he was considered a god, it made sense he’d be extremely powerful in the heavenly realm, but for a moment he’s just a boy in love all over again, with that pretty girl he met one day in this very coffee shop. Even that doesn’t seem to jolt anything from you, either.
“What is it?” You ask curiously, he’s just studying you, he can’t even find the words to speak, his heart aching for you to know him once more. Yet to try to explain that to you? It would hurt your mind to try to get all those memories thrown right in your mind.
He could just touch your face and flood you with his own, that was an ability they all had – and his was finely tuned, much like his domain when he was a sorcerer, he could easily flood anyone’s mind and make them damn near still. Even heavenly beings had trouble handling it, though they would bounce right back, unlike humans.
Yet to send you just a bit of himself? One little memory? Your kisses, the first time he had you in his penthouse underneath him, pressing your hips into the bed? He’s throbbing just thinking of those memories – when he thought he’d never see you in this realm again, of course over years he has been with others sexually, but nothing came close to those human memories.
Even now he looks at that neck he’d bite, the collarbone he’d litter with all his kisses, pretty breasts rising and falling, making him ache to have them pressed against his chest once more. How could he handle not having you like he did before?
“Satoru, is something wrong?” He clears his throat and puts on a smile, playing the role of demon.
“You looked like this as a human?” He asks, keeping his tone husky, as if he didn’t know how the love of his lives looked.
“Um, yes, I didn’t change much like some of us do,” you’re nervous suddenly, Satoru is ethereally gorgeous, you have stayed human like. Not all glowy and insane looking like this demon. “Why?”
“You’re hot,” you blush again, looking down and then glaring. “What?”
“You’re flirting again!”
“Of course I am,” you roll your eyes, making him grin, leaning low with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “You like it.”
You as an angel, him a demon? It’s some cruel joke fate just loves to play on the two of you – always dying young together, never getting to just fucking grow old and have it easy. Satoru remembers every life vaguely too, not as vividly as the last one, but they’re little memories that meld into one.
You.
“Don’t you know the rules? Do you really…” you trail off now, flustered as vivid images of him flit your mind, this demon even makes your thoughts wicked! “With angels?”
“Angels, demons, humans,” he shrugs a shoulder and smirks. “I’ve fucked all of them.”
“Oh my god,” you’re blushing so furiously you have to touch your cheeks. “You’re just teasing me.”
“Nah I really have, but never an angel as sweet and cute as you, most are pretty ruthless.”
“I disagree,” you turn away from him, trying to gather your bearings a bit. “Can you explain our assignment?”
“Of course I can. Our assignment is a man named Nanami Kento, your task is to get him to choose a loving future over one of money,” Satoru tilts his head where there’s a girl in the coffee shop, and this Nanami is waiting in line. “My goal will be to tell him love is nonsense, and that he should make enough to retire young, and have all the wealth he wants.”
“Surely he’ll choose love? He looks like he really likes her,” Satoru chuckles at that, shaking his head at you.
“You’re so cute, Angel.”
“Pshh,” you flicker your wings, they’re invisible but he can still feel them smacking at him. “I’m pretty tough actually.”
“I’m scared, sweetheart,” Satoru morphs then to a ‘human’ form, which is just as freaking unworldly pretty as his demon one. You blink a bit, eyeing the white haired, tall man right in front of you. “Like what ya see?”
“You were a stupidly pretty human… if you were…”
“Yeah I was a human too,” he brushes his locks back, slipping on a pair of sunglasses he’s popped out of thin air. “My eyes get sensitive on earth.”
“Ah,” don’t fall for his demon charms! You’re an angel!
“Wanna place a little bet?”
“A bet?” He brushes your hair back off your shoulders, snowy lashes flickering down to your lips, they part under his gaze.
You don’t remember him at all, do you?
He’s so damn mad right now, every touch you've forgotten, every time he came home exhausted after a mission and you made sure to wash his back, to massage him down. Sucked his cock down your needy throat until he was whimpering for you – the strongest sorcerer in that timeline.
He's been a sorcerer in a few, in every one he has some sort of insane power, like it's his very curse, and you somehow always nullify it. Whether he was a demi God, a sorcerer, a vampire (yep, he somehow still ended up dying as an immortal) you weren't affected the way others were. As if you were built just for him.
“Yeah, a bet where you have to give me a kiss,” his words make your pretty eyes dilate, in every lifetime those stay the same, even if your features alter. Those eyes he's looked into for hundreds and hundreds of years.
“A kiss?” You get this dizzy sensation when Satoru is too close, like you've somehow been here before. Perhaps you came to this coffee shop once upon a time? “You w-want to kiss me if I lose?”
“Mhm,” he leans low, the sun is casting shadows across his cheeks from those round sunglasses, thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Haven't you kissed before, Angel?”
“Um… not in this form no,” you get flustered then, fidgeting a bit with your hands in front of you. “I'm sure I did as a human but I can't remember.”
“How long have you been an angel?” He asks then, brows lowering, still holding your chin in place.
“It's been five human years,” his heart sinks.
Have you been up there for…
As long as he has?
“At that academy?” He asks, his voice just a bit hoarse, of course there he wouldn't have been able to sense your energy. The school was highly protected and had a barrier around it, similar to his days as a student on earth. The thought that you were so close but so far tears him apart. “No angel caught your eye?”
“No,” you admit. That fills Satoru with far too much pleasure, he's nothing if not a jealous human and being a demon merely enhances all of those aspects, to imagine anyone having their hands on his angel, well Satoru would end up back in hell’s prison because he’d fucking kill them. “I’ve been so busy learning and training, I guess I’ve never thought of doing more in the afterlife.”
“Lots of angels and demons do,” he gently lifts your hair off your shoulders, letting his fingertips trace a face he’s known so well for hundreds of years, the one in his very dreams. “We won’t get in trouble for a kiss, but I wasn’t planning on telling anyone if you don’t.”
“All right, I’ll take the bet,” his lips quirk up in that smile, and you can’t help but imagine how they’d feel pressing all over your face, your body, wicked thoughts that are entirely unangelic! “What if I win?”
“You won’t.”
“Ugh! You’re a jerk!” You push his chest and he chuckles, but the moment you touch him you feel something, giving you pause. “Is that your power I’m feeling or…”
“Or what?” He asks quietly, holding your wrist, you swallow nervously and pull your arm back just a bit.
“It just felt really familiar,” you look at him again, was there some way you knew him as a human? “A kiss if you win, that’s all you want?”
“I’d like to pick where I kiss,” you’re blushing so brightly, the heat is emanating off your skin. “But I’ll let you pick if you win. How about that?”
“You get a kiss either way!”
“Yep,” you roll your eyes and sigh. “Is it a bet?”
“Sure, but if I win I may not let you kiss me,” you’re lying your ass off, you’d love to feel those pillowy lips upon yours.
“Sure, sweetheart, lemme see what you got.”
You walk into the coffee shop, the familiar aroma kicking in your senses, things you thought you had forgotten like a coffee before classes kick in now. You’d died in your early twenties, the day before your college graduation – you do know that, but not much else, but the nostalgia fills you when you stand behind the handsome man, who is peering at stock market graphs on his phone.
“Do you know the best drink to get?” You ask softly, the man turns around and smiles, tired hazel eyes seeming to be friendly and kind.
Surely this will be an easy one.
“I’m always getting the same thing,” he admits, shrugging a broad shoulder. “Americano.”
“Oh, I like something sweet maybe,” he nods a bit, peeking back at the girl from the counter. “She’s pretty.”
“She is – I mean!? She’s… I…” he clears his throat now, a faint blush slipping across sharp, hollowed cheeks. “You think so?”
“Very pretty, she seems so kind, like her energy?”
“Can you read energy?”
“I very much can,” you admit softly, moving as the line lessens, closer to the counter. “Hers is so lovely and serene.”
“What about mine?” He asks, lips twitching at the corners.
“Yours is a little hard to read,” you admit. “It’s very strong but also I see some turmoil, like you’re trying to find peace.”
“All right you scared me.” You laugh and shake your head. “Are you some sort of psychic?”
“Not at all, though I could see the two of you together,” you place a hand on his shoulder, using your own power now – yours is to calm anyone, and to have them see your own visions in their mind. It can be whatever you want. “Can’t you?”
You project an image of him on a beautiful beach with her, she’s in this cute bathing suit and they’re splashing all around, he seems utterly entranced, and for a moment you wonder if it could work.
That’s when Satoru cuts in line and stands right next to you, tugging your hand off his shoulder, you glare at him.
“Hey, Nanami, do you remember me?” He asks all brightly, as if he already knows the man, his hand on his shoulder now. “I was trading stocks with you.”
“Oh yes I think so,” your images of the girl are gone.
“They’re going up, it’s the perfect time to invest,” he grins all charming, you clear your throat and stand on his other side, hands behind your back, smiling all pretty up at the man.
“Yet I think that could wait, perhaps you should say hi to the pretty barista?”
“Baristas can wait,” Satoru chuckles, the sound deep and far too pleasing, his eyes glowing red for a moment when he looks at you – just for the briefest moment however. “Can’t they, Nanamin?”
“Uh…” He frowns and looks at the girl, who is giggling and looking up shyly, you watch a flush come on his cheeks once more, as he looks at you, then Satoru.
An angel and a devil on his broad shoulders.
“I suppose that’s true. I come here every day.”
“But today is so special! The energy,” you giggle and it’s like a little tinkling bell with your angelic form, it almost ruins Satoru himself, and leaves Nanami to contemplate, his brows drawing together. “Don’t you think?”
“It does feel like good energy,” the three of you walk up, Satoru resting an arm on his shoulders like they’re best friends.
“Ah, with the season coming up, it would be better to come to her with a fat stack of cash behind you, huh? Take her on the most extravagant date.”
“She doesn’t need all that,” you see Nanami start to rub his temples, wincing as you and Satoru scowl when he’s not looking. “She likes little thoughts and gestures, not extravagant shows.”
“What woman wouldn’t want a boat though?”
“Why would she need a boat!?”
He scowls at you. “Why wouldn’t she want a boat!?”
“Because she just thinks he’s hot as fuck,” Nanami clears his throat at your heated whispers, Satoru raises his brows now.
“Oh and do you?” You blush yourself now, covering your face and wanting to scream at this little shit.
“This is about her, not boats or if I find him hot! He is though,” Nanami blushes even brighter red. “Sorry, you are.”
“Wow, and I’m right here,” you narrow your eyes at his dramatic antics. “Don’t you think I’m hot?”
“In a conceited, pretentious way – you’re pretty.”
He gasps dramatically. “You little brat!”
“Um… I think I should go,” you both stop Nanami then, grabbing either side of his arms, trapping him there. “Do I know both of you?”
“Nanami, you really should ask for her number today,” you look over where you all are almost to the front, heart hammering in your chest. “It’s the perfect day.”
“I should…”
“But this stock is closing in twenty,” Satoru tugs him over to his side, grinning all charming again, he literally has fangs this bratty demon. “We can invite her to your boat, yeah?”
“What is it with boats!?” You hiss, but it’s too late, Nanami sighs, looking at you apologetically. “Nanami, you –”
“Thank you but I think I would like to focus on that first,” he smiles and disentangles your arm off him, patting your hand all friendly. “I don’t disagree that she’s very pretty, but I’ll be here again.”
You’re crushed later, rushing outside to cry in frustration, you failed the assignment and surely they would be furious with you over it! You’re hardly able to keep in how angry Satoru made you, normally such a calm angel, he made you want to act very demonic, especially when he walks up behind you, hands on your upper arms, his lips against your ear.
"Nice try, Angel," he murmurs.
“You’re being sarcastic!?” You look back at him, he shakes his head, suddenly very serious.
“I’m not, sweetheart, but you forgot one thing."
“F-forgot what?”
"Humans love money over almost anything,” you frown as you turn to watch him walk away from love through the cafe window. “Hey, it doesn’t mean he can’t find love later.”
“Yet he may have missed something special!” You spin around on him now, eyes glimmering with tears. “I know you’re a demon and things need balance, but what if she was his soulmate? His true love?”
Satoru can’t speak, not when he sees every aspect he’s ever loved about you right here – and in the forms where both of you can’t really be killed for once, where you all could have eternity together. The righteous, pretty little thing that you were standing now, looking up at him with her wings buzzing a million miles a minute, practically trembling with your temper.
“Hey, you tried really hard, I’m proud of you,” he murmurs, fingertips brushing across your jawline ever so carefully. “Yet it’s not his time to find love yet, he has more to accomplish first before he’s ready.”
“Life is so short, Satoru,” your lips tremble a bit now. “Look at me, I can’t even remember mine but I know I was young.”
He sighs and lets his fingers drop, taking your hand in his own. “Let me take you somewhere, it’s my favorite place on this planet.”
“Why would you show me that?”
“I just think it will calm you some,” you nod in agreement, he wraps an arm around your waist tightly. “I’ll transport us.”
“Not flying there?”
“No this is faster, just hold on,” you cling ever so tightly, arms wrapping around his neck, until you’re transported to the top of a beautiful mountain, snow flakes are falling but you don’t get cold as an Angel anymore. You still instinctively wrap your arms around yourself, looking at the pretty lights below, as snow falls along homes, roads and sidewalks, the street lights dusted with white powder.
“Oh it’s beautiful,” he lays his jacket right down on the ledge and gestures for you to sit next to him, you do just that, suddenly taking in the beauty of earth.
Heaven was breathtaking, but earth had its own charm, especially from this view. “This was a special place for me as a human.”
“It was?” You look up at him, suddenly realize how close he’s gotten, his breath puffing condensation as he speaks in little puffy clouds.
“It was very special, for me and the girl I loved,” he closes up a bit then, looking where your hands sit next to each other, slowly putting his over yours, blue eyes suddenly nothing like a demon.
Satoru looks like an angel.
“You remember your life before? I wish I did,” you admit now, moving just a little closer to him now. “She must have been so lucky to have your love, I can feel it radiating as you speak of her.”
“Yeah,” he laughs a bit without humor now, shutting his eyes for a moment. “I think I was the lucky one.”
“I can’t imagine having love like that,” you admit softly, hurting Satoru’s heart when you hold his hand carefully, delicately running your fingertips along the veins on his hand, the tattooed markings along them he got becoming a demon.
Satoru almost can’t speak, he instead puts on his charm and his lips quirk right up at you, tilting his head. “So you lost the bet, but I’ll let you pick – where I kiss you, or if I don’t.”
“You’ll let me decide?” you whisper, he nods, as your mind races, feeling his energy humming through your very veins. “I’d like a kiss on the lips, like I see others doing, like I think I remember doing?”
“I’ll kiss you anywhere you want, Angel.”
His words fucking ruin you, when he cups your face delicately, his nose brushing your own as he leans in, pressing a heated kiss on your mouth.
That’s when Satoru the demon overtakes you.
You’ve never felt this pressure in your core – as far as your memories can carry – the need white hot, your thighs press together when he pushes his lips against yours again, moaning softly into your mouth. His tongue slips inside and somehow you instinctively follow, hands finding purchase on his shoulders as his dark wings wrap both of you entirely.
You’re whining out, arching for his kisses, your breasts pressing against his chest, nipples tightening as he deepens the kiss, pulling back so you can catch a little breath.
“Where else should I kiss you, angel?” He asks, his eyes black with need, fire in their depths reflecting in his pupils, his hands grip your waist tightly, those wings leaving you both cocooned away from the world.
“My neck,” you say it like instinct, shutting your eyes then. “I said that.”
It was your weak spot, especially in Satoru’s vampire life, he can’t help but smile when his lips travel down, brushing a scorching hot path as his wings tug even tighter around you both. He bites on your neck, cock leaking milky drops that should be inside your body instead, huge hands sinking in either side as his mouth moves over your delicate skin.
“Mnh! Satoru…” You’re soaking wet from a few touches, damn near on his lap now beneath the darkness of his wings, he tugs you on a thigh and lets you straddle it, earning your gasp as you rock against him.
“I fucking missed you,” he says it before he can stop himself, you pull back and blink a bit, that spot on your neck already healing.
How would he leave marks on you like this?
“Did you know me?” You ask now, easing your hips so you brush against his thigh, he whimpers at the sensation, breath ghosting your swollen lips when he cups your face.
“Yeah angel, I knew you,” what a tiny way to say he came inside you and then fucked your cum back into your cunt with his fingers. That you sucked his cock in the back of a limo, and he buried his face against you on the kitchen counter when you baked him cookies.
He knew you all right.
“I wish I could remember,” your eyes get glossy, a tear falling, kissing him once more. “It feels so familiar, your presence, but I can’t-”
Suddenly a swirling vortex appears overhead, Satoru grimaces and tugs back, looking up at it and glaring. “Even as a fucking high ranking demon I have to answer to higher ups.”
“Oh my god I’ll be expelled! Or-”
“Shh,” he cups your face now, his wings releasing you as you come to stand, resting his forehead against yours for a brief moment. “I’ll protect the memory from anyone, trust me?”
Your hands come to his wrists, nodding. “I trust you.”
Satoru locks that memory right up and throws away the key, he’ll be damned if he lets anyone see you riding his thigh if they prod your mind. “There, it’s all sealed.”
“How do you do that?” you ask, the force of the vortex brushing your hair around your face.
“It’s one of my abilities,” he kisses you one more time, sighing. “You definitely knew me, but I can’t tell you how.”
“You can’t?”
“No,” he literally can’t, if he does something terrible would happen to you after signing that dumb fucking oath he can’t wait to burn.
*****
“We appreciate your efforts, but you did fail,” you stand before the council the next morning, your shoulders slumped, peeking over at Satoru the next day, his hands behind his back as he tilts his head.
Satoru had haunted your dreams last night – dreams no angel should ever have played in your mind over and over! Of his tail doing the most wicked things, his lips kissing every place he whispered about. You can’t shake that feeling, waking up soaking wet between your thighs for the first time in your Angelic form.
Satoru Gojo is a dangerous demon.
“Let her have one more assignment with me,” Satoru offers as you both stand there under that scrutiny, smiling all charming at everyone and making even the firmest angels melt. “It wasn’t fair to put anyone up against me, give her one more shot.”
“Are you standing up for an angel?” The dean says, raising a brow.
“She really tried hard, I will give her a bit of a head start this time, hmm?”
“All right, one more.”
“Oh thank you!” You’re fluttering your wings all excitedly, pretty smile on your face that melts Satoru’s heart.
“Your next assignment and test is a man named Suguru Geto, you have the choice to have him give into his darkness, or find the light,” the dean looks over at Gojo now. “Play fair, no cheating.”
“I’d never cheat! Demon’s honor,” he snorts as Satoru raises two fingers up, before he and you walk out of the room, you hug him tightly and he pauses.
To feel you in his arms again.
Satoru hugs you close to him, burying his face in your hair and inhaling, sighing at just how good you feel, how good your scent fills his nostrils, your wings brushing against his own. Yours – golden white feathers – his, that black and blue leather, everything about the two of you is a contrast.
Yet when you smile up all shy, your eyes darting to his lips, he can’t help but throb in need. “You can’t kiss me here, slutty little angel.”
“Excuse me!” You shove at him and he chuckles, fuck you’ve always been so damn cute ro rile up. “I wasn’t thinking of that!?”
“Sure you weren’t,” he brushes his lips on yours and feels you melt, pulling back before the two of you could be caught, sighing now. “The assignment is for a couple days on earth, we will be all alone.”
“What would you do alone with me?” You whisper, your lashes lowering, Satoru sighs and brushes his lips against your cheek, tail slipping up your dress, teasing you over your panties. You barely hold back a moan, hands clinging to his biceps, unable to stop the pull.
It’s like this devil is pulling you with his gravity, like you’re about to crash into him at any moment, and there’s nothing in heaven, hell or earth that could stop it – nor would you want to. You feel so right in his arms, in a way you can’t explain, how he holds you like this, how you feel his strength, his head.
“I’d do things that would make an angel like you blush,” he teases, lips pressed on your ear now. “Lick your pretty cunt that’s soaking wet.”
“Lick it? Ah!”
“Shh,” he chuckles, his tail pressing higher against your puffy lips, hands gripping your waist tightly. “Let you tug on my horns and fuck my face, then pump you full of my cum.”
“You’re wicked!”
“Demon, remember?” You giggle and bite your lip, lashes fluttering when his tail moves once more. “Let’s go before someone comes out.”
“Y-yes…”
You let Gojo lead you out, as you prepare for your assignment on earth – the second one, but you can’t stop the visions from flooding in your mind.
Satoru and you alone together.
*****
Under disguise as humans – fake ids and all – you and Satoru are alone in a fancy lovers’ suite, after studying your next human assignment. Satoru is of course supposed to convince him that power is more important than anything, you’re to convince him that love and friendship are what truly matters, the two of you observing him before you approach.
The first night alone with Satoru has you aching between your thighs, has you weak and shaky, the two of you were pretending to be a married couple so of course there was just one bed, with your wings it’s like there’s no damn room. He’s laying on his side, shirtless just staring at his phone when you set down your own, leaning over to put it on the nightstand.
You’re just in this little white slip, looking like the prettiest angel he’s ever laid his goddamn eyes on, when you clear your throat, propping your head up on a hand like he is, your other running up and down the sheets. His tail flicks up and down, eyes glowing bright blue when you murmur his name softly.
“Hmm?” You lean a little closer, a hand brushing against his bicep, tracing the little tattoo running across it. “You like the marks?”
“They’re pretty,” he chuckles a bit, and your eyes lock. “What?”
“You’re fucking pretty,” you blush so damn cute he aches, his tail wrapping around your thigh, making you gasp a bit. “Every inch of you.”
“How do you know?” You ask softly, biting down on the plush of your lower lip. “Were we intimate, Satoru?”
“You could say that,” his voice is hoarse, breaking in the middle when he sees your eyes dilate, his tail slipping underneath your slip and tickling the curve of your ass, watching your lips part with desire. “Very intimate, I enjoyed drinking you up.”
“Drinking…” You’re burying your face against his neck, in every lifetime you seem to be a little innocent sweetheart, it makes so much sense you’re an angel, Satoru is always some sort of slut till he remembers you exist.
The moment he gets that vision of you, no one exists, every time the memories flood in he knows he’ll do anything to have you. It’s like he doesn’t even know how he exists before you, they all become distant memories the moment you run into him, whether it’s literally smacking into his chest on a sidewalk, or in the coffee shop you all met last time, a bar after a breakup…
Any way he’s ever met you – once it was at a ball in the seventeen hundreds, and Satoru courted you and all, he was quite the rake so it was the talk of the ton. Before that he remembers stealing you from your noble little knight, and capturing you to bring you right on his ship – of course he was a pirate too.
Satoru’s always something crazy in his lives, you’re always a princess, a sweet girl, an angel. You’re the very thing that makes him complete, with her breath on his neck, making him ache – this time he did remember, but he thought you were never going to come, thought you’d live a long human life and reincarnate, Satoru never knew you were so close but so far.
“You are a wicked demon to make me feel so…”
He smirks. “Wet?”
“You’re the worst,” he chuckles and tilts your chin up, that slip tugged up over your hips, his tail just teasing your inner thighs, gathering the slick that’s already dribbled.
“Do you want me to make you feel good, pretty angel?” He whispers softly, leaning over you with his wings spreading out, you take a shaky breath as you feel his heavy weight over you, nodding and swallowing nervously.
“I want it,” he moans and kisses you again, so desperately you pause, pulling back for a breath, seeing his eyes glowing. “I feel so…”
“What, sweetheart?” He slips his fingers down your front, between your breasts, gripping one and pressing a kiss on the underside of your chin.
“At home,” he pauses and looks up at you, emotions rushing in his eyes, seeing the color tinge your cheeks. “That sounds so silly, please… I want more…”
“I’ll give you more, then,” he moans and kisses down your body, tugging a tit out and sucking on one, the peak in his hot mouth pebbling right up, his tail wrapping right around your thigh, tugging it up. “You want me to lick your pretty cunt?”
“Please,” his strength is far beyond yours, his hands shoving your thighs up, those long nails barely touching your skin, leaving little marks that fade the moment he puts them higher. “You sure, angel? Gonna let a demon touch you?”
Your hands go to his horns, making him whimper, his tail teasing your slit over your panties. “Didn’t you say I can hold these?”
“You sure fucking can,” Satoru moans when you arch your hips. “Put me where you want.”
You’re controlling the high ranking demon – Satoru Gojo – one of the most powerful creatures in heaven or hell, tugging him low until his breath ghosts where you’re most sensitive, his horns cool and smooth in your grip. He laps his long tongue right up it, gathering the juices that have spilled, your head falls back, wings fluttering underneath you.
“Mnh! Take em off, please,” you whisper desperately, he sighs and eases them down, cock rutting on the mattress, so needy he can’t take it.
“Fuck your pussy is just as pretty as it always is,” you blink a bit in confusion, but his mouth is on you in moments, and every thought is licked from you – his head buried against you. His tail wraps around to tease your nipples even as his tongue fucks your needy hole. “Mmm you’re so sweet, Angel.”
Your answer is to spread wider – there’s no hesitation like you thought, not when it feels so fucking right, him devouring you like he’s always known you. His tongue flattens on your clit as he moans, vibrating against your core, having you leak and drool right down his mouth, dripping down his chin as he slurps it right up. The sounds are obscene, mixing with your soft, angelic little cries.
This demon’s powers, overtaking you with his strength, how his dark wings spread and cast shadows across the two of you and the bed, casting against the wall his large form. Satoru’s almost seven feet tall in his demon form, where your angel is much smaller, the size difference alone steals your breath.
Demons were tall but not as tall as him, Satoru was just extra and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it. You feel the difference even more with his huge hands wrapping you around the waist, his big body taking you over as his fingers touch that syrupy mess dripping down your slit, gathering it and pushing in. And fuck his fingers are long, so long they press your cervix.
“Ah! S-so deep…” You’re struggling to take just two fingers, he sighs against you, breath making you jump, his lips burning hot like a brand when they press a kiss on your hood again.
“You can take me,” he whispers, looking up under his thick fringe of white lashes, his fingers crooking against that spot in your tacky little walls, pushing up until you’re shattering. “That’s it, you’re made f’me.”
“M-made for… Satoru!” He groans and slurps at your clit, scissoring those fingers in and out so fast it’s utterly inhuman, you’re so goddamn wet they’re slipping, his sharp teeth come to bite your clit teasingly. “Ah! F-fuck…”
“An angel cussing,” he laughs softly, licking his teeth with that long tongue, before flicking it on your clit like an apology. “Tsk, what would heaven say?”
“They’d be m-more concerned about a demon licking me,” he snorts and you can’t help but giggle, turning into a broken moan when he uses those long fingers and his tongue swirls your clit, making you jolt and cry out.
“That’s it,” he whispers, cock throbbing so badly he could cum from sipping that flavor that’s coated his tongue for centuries. “Cum all over me, sweetheart.”
There’s no option not to, not when his long fingers curve up and hit your sweet spot, and you’re spasming, gushing, tugging his horns even harder as his free hand presses on your tummy, making the pressure unbearable. You’re spasming around those fingers, body lit on every nerve ending like you’re floating – even better than flying, this feeling.
You’re dizzy, like you’re not tethered to anything when he presses another kiss and looks up at you. “So beautiful cumming for me.”
That’s when it hits.
When you look at him and he’s leaning up, fingers rocking in and out of your cunt, and your hands grip his biceps, he pauses when he sees your wide eyes, as everything starts swirling, morphing into one Satoru Gojo. Always those baby blue eyes, always the ones that look at you with utter devotion, even when he’s irritated, or when you argued.
Arrogant and conceited in every timeline, too fucking powerful – he’s always the yin to your yang, you’re soft and sweet and he’s cold and ruthless on the exterior, but with you? He was sweet, silly, hilarious and loving.
Your Satoru, how could you not remember for so long?
“What is it, Angel?”
“Toru…” He pauses at that name, his fingers slip out gently, leaving you empty – tears slipping from his eyes and dripping crimson against your white slip, soaking the fabric and staining it with those bloody tears.
“You remember?” He asks softly, cupping your face with his clean hand, the other gripping your thigh, tugging it around his hip.
You remember a sorcerer, remember his power and what happened to him, then what happened to you after, your tears slipping down your cheeks, sniffling as he kisses your brow, your nose.
“Oh Toru you… I can’t believe I didn’t… five years…”
“It’s all right,” he whispers, looking down at you now. “I didn’t even know you were in heaven, they fucking kept you from me.”
“Why?” He shakes his head, resting it on yours and swallowing his emotions, your tears glitter like pretty diamonds, his like dark garnet, mixing together as you both hold each other tightly, breaths mingling together, hearts racing.
“I keep asking myself why,” he whispers, kissing you desperately, you fall apart underneath him. “Mmm, why can’t I fucking have you? Grow old and have babies with you?”
“Oh,” you’re emotional, your energy humming and radiating from your skin so bright, a contrast to Satoru’s darkness, kissing him again, this time with that familiarity that had been driving you insane. “I wanted that too, I wanted it.”
“Me to fill you with babies, pretty angel?” He whispers all husky, tugging down his pants and lining his cock up with your entrance, you’re already quivering around nothing, waiting to be full – that familiar fullness your entire soul memorizes that sensation.
“It’s insane now, w-we can’t…”
He cuts you off softly. “We can do anything you fucking want, we can’t die again baby,” he tugs your slip down, exhaling and looking at your pretty nipple, capturing it with his mouth. “I’d burn down any timeline for you.”
“I don’t w-want you to have to burn it all, I just… Toru in me, please,” you beg now, as he slips his tip up and down your needy slit, feeling her all greedy trying to suck him in.
“You forget you’re always innocent,” he teases, nose brushing yours, his eyes lidded as he eases his tip inside, watching your lips part with your gasp. “Angelic I would say.”
“And you’re slutty, demon,” you scowl and he laughs softly, shaking his head. “Couldn’t wait for me to come into existence, hmm?”
“I will make it all up to you, pretty, slutty little angel,” he shoves his cock deep inside, he’s even bigger like this, his cock stretching you out so much it’s hard to take. He’s groaning as you clamp down on him, his tail teasing your nipple, hands enwrapping your hips and dragging you down. “Fuck, feel her grip me, baby…”
He leans back and shoves your slip up higher with his tail, looking at the bulge as he moves in and out – his cock print right on your tummy. “Toru!”
“You’re so full, aren’t you?” His eyes glow so bright they’re hard to look at, fingers digging into your hips brutally, but you can take it – he’s never been able to really go rough with you, but your body is much stronger. “You were made to take me.”
“Please,” you murmur, lips trembling. “Move, please.”
“Anything for you,” he starts to ease his cock in and out of your slick cunt, watching it drip down his ten inches, of course it doesn’t all fit inside, but watching your puffy folds try to take him has him groaning desperately, your eyes fluttering shut. "Ah - ah, look at me."
You force your eyes open, meeting his burning gaze, lips parting in a ragged little gasp as he starts to move faster, shoving your thighs up, his arms resting right on the backs of them. “S-so much… pressure, nghh!”
"You can take me angel,” he whispers, wings covering the two of you carefully, enshrouding you in the darkness so the only light was his eyes, that glow even brighter with every stroke. “I want to see you fall apart for me."
His tail, which had been teasing your nipple, now snakes lower, the pointed tip circling your clit and flicking right against it, Satoru already knows every weak spot, every sensitive part of your body, things you don’t know or remember. He’s fucking into you as he circles your clit, pulling back to study you in the soft lights of the suite.
“You’re close,” he murmurs, watching your every expression as he tries not to bust fast – his sweet angel better cum at least three times before he does. “Let go for me, lemme feel you soak my cock."
Your nails press into his tattooed biceps, those markings lit up as he moans and sucks in a breath, feeling you spasm around him – your climax rushes through your body even harder than from his tongue. You’re drooling, babbling nonsense, eyes rolled back in your skull, as if being an angel enhances how sex felt before – and Satoru had always been able to fuck you dumb.
Yet he’s so fucking big like this, his cock has inches not inside you, so thick you’re split apart on him, his heavy weight ruining you. He’s whispering your last name – the one you forgot, mumbled and mixed with angel, pretty, sweetheart, his rhythm maddening as his tail flicks away.
Satoru laps your glittery slick right off it in the sluttiest little action, grinning down at you with those fangs of his, kissing you and using his tail to tug your body further down him.
“Wanna watch you ride me, baby, fuck… please?”
You flush and nod, he switches your positions so quickly you’re dizzy, rising and lowering yourself on his cock, your white and gold tipped wings extending. He moans at the sight of his angel, his huge hands snaking up to brush right between them, trailing up your spine and making you moan, gushing impossibly more down him.
"Fuck, yes… just like that… milk me, hah - doin’ s’good,” you giggle breathless and he narrows his pretty eyes. “You’re laughing? Should I make you take it all?”
“N-no, ah!” Satoru tugs you down until he bottoms out, bruising your cervix, your wings close up and flutter, cunt drooling as she tries to take as much as she can. “I was just remembering – you talk a lot during sex. And you whimper.”
“You brat,” you’re grinning all pretty and angelic, Satoru sighs now, leaning up on his elbows, his wings flaring wide, as he buries himself as deep as he can go, kissing your throat then looking at himself in your tummy, whimpering. “F-fine, yes I do… but it’s always your fault.”
“I love it,” you whisper, affectionately as you cup his face, tears spilling from your eyes even as you’re about to be flooded with him. “I love you.”
He pauses and then loses it, sucking on your tit and ripping your slip to shreds, moving you up and down him faster, an inhuman pace that you would not be able to take as a human. You’re barely clinging to him as he rocks into you, whining out when he starts pulsing, ready to fill you up, lost in everything about you.
“You still love me, baby?” He whispers, looking up at you with devotion in his eyes, you nod quickly, swallowing down your emotions.
“I love you, please… inside…” He groans and you feel him swell inside you, his pretty whines escaping those plump lips, his tail wrapping your waist as his wings spread wide and then circle your body.
“Gonna put so much inside you, angel,” he whispers, kissing you desperately – a hot, thick flood of white coating you as he spills himself into your needy hole. “That’s it, takin’ it all f’me… angel…”
“S-so much…” You’re gushing him down, a mess of white and gossamer on his pretty, veiny cock, he eases you off and flips you back, hovering over you and slipping his tail to scoop the mess you’re spilling. “Toru that tail i-is… diabolical…”
“Imma demon, sweetheart,” he grins all bright, breathless as his tail slips that cum right back inside you, snug in your fucked out cunt. You gasp at it, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “I need it to stay inside, we’ll have our own little army – little hybrids.”
“Crazy,” you shake your head, but you’re too far gone, when he’s already hard and ready again.
“I am,” he admits softly, kissing you deeply, then grinning. “Wanna fuck in the air?”
“In the air!”
“I wanna fuck you on every inch of heaven, hell and earth,” he whispers, batshit insane as he slips his fingers down your hips, looking at your body lovingly. “Cum drippin’ all over every inch.”
You had forgotten just how insane the love of your life was.
*****
The next day
Before you all can even finish the assignment the next day, you both were having a cute little competition and bet, giggling and forgetting for a moment all the reasons this can’t work – when a vortex is summoned, making you both tense as it all crashes down. Tears already prick your eyes, sniffling as Satoru picks you up in his arms, sighing and looking up at it.
“Toru, I’m scared…” You whispered right before it sucked you both in, he had cupped your face then, shaking his head.
“I’ll never let you go again.”
He promised that before.
It echoes in his mind when they immediately have shackles ready for you once you’re back up in heaven – golden ones that’ll sap your power, Satoru’s helpless as they chain him right up with you. Your eyes are terrified, and Satoru’s heart is ripped into pieces, both of you thrown in the same cellar and told you’re to ‘face a trial’.
There are no fair ‘trials’ in heaven when it comes to angels and demons, especially for Satoru.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs that night, the cell is dark and fucking horrible, and the bars have blocked any magic or abilities. He’s holding you close when you bury your head against his neck. “Shh, I’m here.”
“It was worth it to be with you again,” your words break his soul, as he tugs you even closer to him, your tears hot against his neck. Satoru swallows and covers you up with his wings as you shiver, trying to comfort you. “I don’t know why they always take you from me.”
“Angel…” He swallows his emotions as you break down, your energy crackling and radiating to the point of pain as he feels it.
“I don’t know why, and I can never take it when you go,” you look up at him with a tear streaked face now. “I always die right after you because I can’t live when you go.”
“Sweetheart, I…” He doesn’t know what to say, brushing your hair back as his tears threaten to spill.
You do always die right after, and he never knows from what.
“A broken heart,” you answer softly. “I can’t eat or sleep when you go, I know you’d want me to live but maybe I’m selfish, too.”
He sighs and swallows. “That’s because without you there is no me, either,” he answers quietly. “I’d do the fucking same. But it won’t come to that, it’s different this time.”
“I just got you back,” you whisper, breaths rising and falling as he holds you close to him, those chains making it difficult to move as they dig into your wrists but you both still manage. “Only a day of remembering.”
“I’ll fix this. Do you trust me?” He asks, and you implicitly nod. “Then get some rest, who knows how long it’ll be before I can see someone.”
“Okay Toru,” you snuggle in his arms and fall into a fitful little slumber, but Satoru stays awake.
He’s not going to let this stand after everything he’s been through.
He lays you down quietly later that night when he leans forward on those bars, working his charm on the guard, even without his powers – Satoru is disarming. “Hey, how about I grant you one wish, and you let me just have a word with the seraphs?”
“A wish? Nah… I…”
“Bet you’d love to hook up with that pretty angel from your class, hmm?” Satoru grins and his eyes flash ruby. “I could make her fall in love with you.”
*****
“What on heaven are you doing out!?” The head archangels stand in formation when Satoru comes flying through their damn roof – he’s always had a bit of a flair for dramatics, but also fuck them.
“I came for my fucking ‘trial’.” He flies across to where they sit at their big fancy tables, the sky is already storming, rain is starting to fill the once immaculate building, he smirks at the fear on even the most powerful members of heaven’s faces.
“Seize him at once-”
“Let him speak,” the tallest archangel – well over ten foot comes over, Satoru’s always found them pretty fucking creepy if he’s being honest. All those damn eyes all over their body, feathers on their faces, they’re imposing even to a tall demon like him, but he walks forward, the chains still binding him. “This is about your lover.”
“She’s more than my lover, she’s my fucking soulmate,” he scoffs now, coming closer until he’s looking up at the massive archangel who will help decide his judgement.
“We know you all are fated, but your union cannot be. It will lead to all sorts of issues for Heaven, Hell and Earth.”
“I’ll burn down Heaven, Hell and fucking Earth for her,” Satoru says, the sheer force of his energy making everything in the enormous building shake and tremble, dust from the plaster falling over the imposing archangels heads, more rain pouring from the gray clouds. “Think I care!?”
“That’s the problem, in every lifetime your love leads to destruction,” the archangel approaches Satoru now, he laughs and tugs the golden chains meant to control his power like it’s nothing, immediately freeing his wrists. “That’s the reason you keep losing her.”
“I will not fucking lose her again,” his tears slip from his eyes now, heart hammering in his chest as he thinks of his pretty angel locked up because of him. “Just let us fucking be happy, god for once stop this. I will bring destruction to everything if I don’t get to have her.”
“Say we let you,” Satoru’s hands are around his neck, squeezing the archangel with ease, the others move to help but he holds up a hand. “She’s an angel, you’re a demon – we didn’t choose that, you two did.”
“Then I’ll make it to where what you are doesn’t matter, I’ll make it where angels and demons can fuck if they want, have babies if they want.”
“The precedent of this was-”
“I don’t care what tales you spin of what came before,” Satoru squeezes even harder, one more ounce of pressure and he’d kill this archangel with ease, he remains eerily calm. “She is mine. I will take her far away if that’s what you need, but she’s all mine and I won’t be without her.”
“Let go, son,” Satoru scoffs at the name, letting him go. “I’ll convene with God for a moment.”
“God caused all this, I’d love to fucking talk to him,” he steps back then, the others approach but halt as the head archangel holds up his hand.
“Your love is clear and pure, even if you’re a sinful devil,” Satoru smirks just a bit, and he closes his eyes, palm still raised.
It’s quiet in the room, for a long moment, when finally he opens his eyes, calm and serene, looking at Satoru carefully. “Well what did the big, scary sky man say?”
His lips twitch in a little bit of humor now. “You both can have immortal lives, and you can try to change heaven's hierarchy. Who is god to punish his children, even the demonic ones?”
“Fuck,” he exhales, his eyes shutting now. “Please get my Angel out of that shitty prison.”
“Satoru,” he says, earning fierce blue eyes. “If you both bring on destruction, just remember we tried to stop it.”
“I just want to fuck and kiss my goddamn girlfriend,” every angel gasps, Satoru just rolls his eyes. “I just want to be with her, whatever destruction shit you’re speaking of – I guess I’ll figure it out. Are we free from this cycle?”
“There are no more reincarnations for either of you,” he steps back now, gesturing to one of the seraphs. “Can you make the order to let her out?”
*****
“Satoru!” You’re jumping in his arms when he greets you, trembling from being chained up, he brushes those marks smoothly with his touches, his wings wrapping around the two of you.
“Angel,” he whispers, feeling your warmth against his skin, the scent that he can’t ever get out of his mind in any life filling his senses. “So how do you feel about a trip down to hell?”
“Hell!” You gasp and he chuckles now, tilting his head, his horns glinting from the light.
“I have approval to be with you down there if I help run things – Lucifer isn’t keen on taking Satan’s position just yet. We can be here too but the judgement would be much worse than down there.”
You grin then, your little wings fluttering gold, skin taking on this glowy sheen. “Can we still visit here? And Earth?”
“We can do whatever the fuck you want,” he kisses your lips, right in front of the onlooking angels and seraphs. “Don’t you know I alone in heaven and earth am the honored one?”
“You’re conceited in every lifetime,” he pauses at that, lips parted, watching as your eyes get glassy. “Satoru Gojo, I’d choose you a million times over, even if it meant dying young, if it meant short lives. I’d never choose differently.”
“Even if I couldn’t give you an old, happy life? Kids?” He’s crying too, crimson drops as thick as blood, you swipe it off his perfect cheeks, feeling his tail wrap around you tightly.
“I would always choose you,” he kisses you, holding you so tightly you think you might break from the force.
“Come with me,” he shoots you both up into the air with his huge wings in the sky, the rush of wind brushing cool against your skin, you welcome it eagerly after the suffocating confinement of the celestial prison. Heaven shrinks below you into just puffy clouds, islands scattered.
“It’s so beautiful, but…” you drift off, and he understands without you saying – heaven was a gilded cage, your cycles of constant reincarnation were a prison.
For once you feel so free, with his strong arms around you, his eyes glowing red around those blue irises, as you are floating in the air with him. “I’m bringing you to my home.”
“In hell?” You tease, he grins. “All right, take me there.”
“Hold on to me,” you do just that, burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent that is so achingly familiar you can’t believe you couldn’t place it before. In moments he’s got you in a decadent room, Hell is not burning hot like you thought though it’s warmer, brighter than heaven. “Are you dizzy?”
“Just a bit,” you admit, looking at his bed and biting your lower lip, in moments your clothes are gone, just your wings wrapping your body slightly, as Satoru kisses your neck, and you tug at his horns.
“Oh fuck,” he groans and eagerly pulls his cock out, lifting your hips so you’re suspended in the air, his tip slipping against your slick entrance. “I’m gonna put so many fucking babies inside you, have half demons, huh? Half angels hah – carry so many won’t you?”
“Please do it,” uncaring of whatever fucking consequence it was, you cling to his horns and arch your back, his tail wraps your thigh and flicks your clit, as his cock sinks inside, bulging your tummy. “Put em in me – Mnh! Toru…”
He pauses as you call him that nickname, the one you always have found for him, he tilts your head for a moment, his huge hand bigger than your entire face, thumb brushing your cheek. “You always call me that, angel, I wonder why?”
“Y-you always call me angel,” he smirks at that, kissing your lips and shoving his cock in deep again, your hands tighten as you arch for more, letting him hold you suspended with his cock buried deep. “Did you just know?”
“Maybe I did know,” he moans and his eyes flutter shut for a moment, opening and going from ruby back to bright blue, wings enshrouding your own much smaller ones, that tail toying with your twitchy clit till you’re about to break. “I’m never fucking letting you go again, Angel. I need to make up for so much time.”
“H-how are we making it – ah – up?” He chuckles at how cute you are, your thighs trembling, slick dripping down onto the floor as he moves his huge, veiny cock inside you.
“By pumping my angel full of cum every day,” you whimper at that, Satoru grins devilishly against your neck, letting you tug his horns as his tip kisses your puffy cervix. “I don’t fucking care if we destroy it all, I just want you.”
“Then take me,” Satoru moans and gives you all of him – whispering filthy things in your angelic ears, of the way he plans to put babies in you, how he wants to take over heaven and hell so your kids can rule both – powerful, insane strokes of his cock and husky, devilish words.
You’re Satoru Gojo’s angel, and he’s not letting you go ever again.
i loved this SO MUCH my heart was breaking and I was crying ahhh - I hope you all enjoyed <3
Patreon for more exclusive fics <3 comms closed for the moment!
Synopsis. “Here ye, here ye—a royal wedding is upon the horizon!
The uniting of two kingdoms long held in fierce battle: hybrids and humans. At the first light of sunset His Majesty, King Gojo Satoru, the sole snow leopard hybrid in all the lands, shall wed Her Royal Highness, the princess: you.
For one moon the princess shall have to succeed - or survive - in marital bliss with the King, in order to commence peace negotiations between the two kingdoms.
But remember, dear princess, no matter how gentlemanly a hybrid may seem…they still remain hybrids. They possess powers. They undergo ruts.
And humans aren’t built to handle them.”
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!princess!reader, snow leopard hybrid!Gojo, hybrids AU, royalty AU, he’s the cruel king of the North, King!Gojo, pIot, worldbuilding, humans vs. hybrids, poIiticaI marriages, arranged marriages, for the good of the people, reader is lowk a BAMF, YEARNING Gojo, paintings, palaces, setting descriptions, RÚTS, pheromones, hybrid tendencies, he goes FÉRAL, first times (both), sIight bIood, oraI (fem rec.), pússydrúnk Gojo, fíngering, spítting, hoIding you down with his tail, stopping you from running, p talking, rings, manhandIing, matíng presses, bréeding, making him BREAK, making it fit, cervíx smoochin, dúmbificatíon, p worship, HEAVY overstím, Gojo’s powers, creampíes, cúmpIay, KNOTS, implied marathons, fated mates, confessions, HAPPY ENDING, pet names swéaring.
Word count. 17.4k
A/N. PHEWWWWW y’all knew I just had to-
White dress.
Rouge.
Soaps and scents from all over the world.
Milk bath. The concoction of pale liquid stretches around you like a neverending sea; in a bath tub just as vast, with flower petals locked in a constant state of battle against the torrential waves of your attendants scrubbing you down to the very bone.
Above the seething splashes, your mother’s droll tone emanates—veering into her fourth hour of pacing the royal bathing chambers now.
“—such an unseemly arrangement- but of course, we ought not to have expected anything more from a hybrid.” Her lip curls in distaste, “The Ton might even consider it scandal- and yet, I fear we have no choice in the matter. Not with him.”
“Yes, mother.”
“Not even the kingdom’s best advisors could negotiate his terms, my dear.”
“Yes, mother.”
“This is the only resolution remaining for the kingdom.”
“Yes.” For who was to go against the Queen?
In just an hour’s time, you’ll be married to King Gojo Satoru.
Gojo Satoru.
The infamous ruler of the Kingdom of Hybrids.
The shadow looming over your kingdom.
The last snow leopard hybrid alive.
There was a reason to that that made your heart clench—you’d felt the floor fall out of your history lesson the second it’d been taught to you. Legend said that your people had hunted down every last snow leopard hybrid after discovering that the opposing kingdom’s monarchs were of that family - every last one.
Except for one.
It was unsure how or when Gojo Satoru had escaped during the massive conflict, but your people had gotten their penance once he’d returned - stronger than ever - and declared battle.
But you didn’t want to think about that right now- not when all that led to were thoughts about just how the patriot might enact revenge for it upon you.
The Kingdom of Hybrids and the Kingdom of Humans have sat beside one another since the dawn of time, and so has the resentment between the two. It has always been ever-present and ever-growing. Your ancestors, and your ancestors’ ancestors. Like the overpass of frothy white clouds hovering through your blue, blue skies above—churning into dark storm clouds and blizzards once they reached the gloomy land of the neighboring kingdom.
The opposing kingdom always seemed colder, always seemed crueler.
And you were sure that the primary reason for that was the geographical difference between the two: your kingdom sat at the bottom of a mountain, where the valleys were fertile and nature flourished. Whereas the Kingdom of Hybrids was scattered in large, stone towers and huts across the enormous mountain range.
Only sharpening in weather and bite the further up the mountain one went. Its peak was completely obscured by clouds, and not even on the clearest day could you spot the spirals of where Gojo Satoru’s palace - aptly named the North Palace - was rumored to be.
Out of morbid curiosity, you did sneak a glance every day. Hell, you even fixed a lantern from your royal chambers—perhaps hoping that someday you might witness a lantern blinking back.
Though that was an experiment yet to bear results - you haven’t spotted even a single hybrid subject coming out of those hard stone homes. It was as if a ghost kingdom.
Even if the news from the front lines clearly stated otherwise.
The hybrids obscured themselves with snow and fog. Cloaked themselves in storms that sent trundling vibrations even to your palace. Residents of a perpetual winter that tore through their kingdom - even the stray gusts of air from the mountain made your subjects shiver, you couldn’t imagine what it was like to be borne and passed in such a state.
Borne and passed, because it was forbidden for subjects of either kingdom to cross into the other.
As all good neighbors must, your ancestors had raised a barrier separating the two lands for good; a thorny forest about seventy feet high and several towns’ length wide. It was made of thorned trunks about the size of boa constrictors. Plunging into the clouds with their barbed limbs as though to make the world pay for ripping apart the one body of the land into two parts.
Though if you made such a comparison in any of your tutoring classes, you knew you’d be punished forthright.
It wasn’t a surprise when the resentment had exploded in the coming years.
By the time you were in your teenage years, announced as next in line to the throne, Gojo Satoru had already taken the mantle as king. And that was when the conflict had started.
Hybrid warriors attacking the outskirts of your kingdom. Your own feverish subjects bloodthirsty to set fire to their sparse farms.
It’s been a long and cruel battle.
You could sit here and recount the history lessons that your palace tutors had drilled into you - all those sabotages of war plans, all those attempts to oust either throne. The time your locals had been attacked by a ravenous pack of wolf hybrids, and the time your subjects had cut through the barrier, and clamored up the mountains just to spear through some of the prey. Hybrids with a taste for humans, and humans that bled no warmth. Blood and gore. Blood and gore.
There never flourished a fruit sweet from blood and gore.
And the roots of the thorn barrier had been watered with such for ten years now. More from your own kingdom’s people than his.
Why had it even started? One could only guess.
You knew what the royal history tutors proclaimed - this was because of their hybrid powers, they’d been poisoning the wells and farmlands with their mystique, they’d been kidnapping humans for nourishment - but you also knew that those of the other side must proclaim something far different. Have conflicting stories ever settled on one answer? One truth?
Most definitely not. Battle only gave one answer, and the question was what numbers were lost.
Luckily for your kingdom, however, the end of the fighting was nigh.
It had happened last week—the letter.
Just a day after you’d been announced to take up the throne in the upcoming week. The next Queen.
The resurgence of the people.
On a day when the fighting was stalled, and it wasn’t looking pleasant for your side: a sole hawk hybrid flew between those winding thorns, scratches upon his wings from the long flight, a white handkerchief of surrender tied around his neck.
The arrow upon your kingdom’s front lines had raised the moment the flapping of wings became clear. Drew closer.
If not for the wave of surrender, you weren’t sure what would have happened - Gojo Satoru was not the type of ruler to stand for a single one of his subjects being harmed. Especially one so seemingly harmless. And your lines of soldiers had been pushed back in the last few months…they wouldn’t have stood a chance.
The soldiers had shuddered as the half-human, half-bird creature drew nearer—something mythical from their storybooks, their greatest nightmares.
You hadn’t been there alongside them that day, and Commander Masamichi Yaga was the one to take the first step towards him. A handkerchief of white held in his own hand.
The two had met in the middle, you’d heard, on your side of the nation.
There, the hook-nosed Commander - or so you’d heard from the whispers of the soldiers that had been there that day - had handed over the envelope. It was a snow-white parchment, cool to the touch; so starkly empty except for the slight heft in its weight, and the single, slanted line of blue cursive on its back.
To the future Queen.
A carriage had been called immediately to the royal palace.
Higuruma had flown off thereafter, and the Commander had set off down those high-ceiling, gold-capped corridors of the palace. At once.
You remember exactly where you’d been when you first saw the letter - in the circular meeting table with your royal advisors, poring over your nth war tactic that day. You’d just opened your mouth to suggest another treaty proposal between the two kingdoms - your strongest men and women and every warrior in-between couldn’t possibly last much longer against the formidable foe - when Yaga had barged in—his face solemn, his body bowed, his hand trembling where he held that unopened letter.
And at first, you’d assumed that something had gone horribly wrong - that your subjects had been harmed. But then you’d reached out and taken it.
The letter had no sender’s name, but it didn’t need one.
It was the first correspondence with King Gojo Satoru since he’d taken up the throne. Ever.
“To my dearest future Queen,
Though I suppose it shall be a falsehood to claim you as mine—that is not a privilege this lowly hybrid holds just yet. So I suppose you must forgive me; to the dearest future Queen.
I am aware of your kingdom’s valiant efforts against my own, and I commend you for maintaining such a fervent battle. I admit, no kingdom prior has managed to prolong one of my battles thus far—you’ve made me exercise battalions I never believed I would get the chance to, in this lifetime, and it has been quite thoroughly exciting to face my first challenge. You hold your fights well, my future Queen.
My apologies, it has happened again.
But you must be aware of what is undeniable - your kingdom is losing. Though not instantly, it is inevitable that, ultimately, your kingdom shall crumble before mine. Your humans are injured, and you falter in resources.
I know you know.
However, fret not. For it seems that across the duration of our snipes, I have grown to hold a strange affection for your kingdom, and most of all—you.
To the future Queen: if you wish for the war to come to a close, in a way that benefits both parties equally, I am extending this one olive branch.
Marry me.
Marry me. Marry me. Marry me.
You may hold the celebrations in any manner or place you wish, you may annul the marriage if you do so please. This lowly hybrid proposes that you may even take other lovers, shall it be your desire to do so; my only condition is that Your Majesty must reside in the North Palace alongside yours truly for one moon.
Yes, one moon with you is all I ask. After which you are free to return, to register the annulment, to even reside in the North Palace as long as you please.
Though, this lonely King shall do his best not to heighten his hopes.
On the moon after our union, my troops will pull back from the borders - we shall be at war no longer.
On the third moon after which this letter has been received, Commander Higuruma will be awaiting in front of the thorn barrier for your response. Do not attempt to herald an attack, for there is a reason that hawks are birds of prey.
I await your response impatiently, the my future Queen.
Yours truly,
Gojo Satoru.”
The letter had dropped from your hands once you finished reading it.
One moon.
One night.
One night with the cruel King Gojo Satoru.
And of course, there was no promise that you’d ever be coming back—for, who could trust a King like so?
There was nothing more to be said about Gojo Satoru.
Everyone had a story about him.
Everyone.
Perhaps from the odd disappearance of a family member that strayed too close to the barrier, or a childhood bedtime story that always featured him as the fearsome villain. Lately, you have been the hero, of course.
Though one knew not of what the hybrid looked like, nor his age, nor the full extent of his powers, nor any insight into his motivations - everyone knew one thing for certain: and that was to stay away.
Gojo was deemed to be a brutal king—the cruelest of them all. The most wicked. The one that appeared on battlefields as fleetingly as a snowflake upon your palm, and disappeared just as quick - so quick that one won’t even be able make out his features, his form - leaving behind a trail of carnage that piled up high enough to form their own kingdoms. In just a single second.
And the more he aged, the more his powers grew.
He was the reaper. And you were being asked to walk right into his claws.
What followed had been a fervent series of letters - penned by only the best of the best advisors, authors, and peace negotiators in your kingdom - that were rejected one by one. Your kingdom’s messengers disappeared into the barriers upon their surrender-white horses, holding bagloads of letters and pleas from your council, and arrived with the very same an hour later—somewhat disoriented.
According to them, they’d followed the route to the other kingdom to a T - and yet, somehow found themselves exiting back out through your side of the wall once more.
Gojo’s magic, you knew. Though unaware of its uses and intricacies, you understood that this was what you’re getting for not following his instructions—waiting for Higuruma.
And you also understood that if his prowess was this expansive, then what more could they possibly do to your kingdom…
And so - after three moons - you’d accompanied Commander Yaga and the troops to the area where they’d first encountered Higuruma. Sure as ice, the hook-nosed man was standing there proudly.
He bowed luxuriously at you, before clipping the response letter into his clutches—then he stretched the massive wingspan upon his back and took flight. Disappearing towards his own kingdom in but a few blinks.
And you could only watch as your response was carried away.
“To Gojo Satoru,
I accept your proposal. It is time we finish this war.
Regards,
The future Queen.”
The date was set. You were to be married.
And so you’ve found yourself being fussed over by the entire palace - and even the tailors, and cake-makers, and florists from outside. The people. The outraged and the delighted alike.
Everyone and anyone bursting the seams of the palace in an attempt to catch a glimpse of you on your wedding day. What an honorable date it was, wasn’t it?
On the day that should have been your coronation as Queen, you’re being fitted into your wedding outfit.
It was initially supposed to be your first gown as ruler.
A lavish few meters of white silk pampered, teased, and pressed into frills. Millions upon millions of miniature diamonds bedazzle the fabric in increasing saturation towards the bottom, making it look as though you were the beauty of nature itself; the soft sunlight across freshly-ladden snow, the hymn of tree branches against the winter wind, an ice shard itself. Sharp when you’re not looking.
The train of your wedding outfit had taken several attendants to fix onto your jewel-encrusted tiara, and it billowed out the length of several ballrooms.
It was equally as decorated with tiny fixtures of diamonds, heavy yet grounding - you’d specifically asked the tailor to add these on. If you’re going to bear yourself before the most wicked King, then you might as well make an impression.
You touch the silk gloves that covered you from fingertips to elbows - also something you’d requested. Just one night. You’d show that your kingdom wasn’t just the feeble humans he must think he was toying with- and afterwards all diamonds were ordered to be distributed amongst the people.
This was your choice to marry your opposing monarch. Everything was yours.
Though the bouquet of white roses must have been a choice of the palace. Must have…
Your mask of quiet acceptance fixed. Your appearance radiant. You’re staring at the person in the mirror that seemed so distant from yourself—was this the new Queen of the Hybrids?
Attendants and tailors fluttered around you like butterflies, harried that they weren’t able to suckle the honey out of you fast enough. They’re smoothing your fabrics down and fussing with your train, they’re making last-minute adjustments to the size and fitting-
“Careful.” Your mother warns from a distance, and her tone is enough to make the entire room jolt. She stares down one of the tailor’s apprentices, “Heaven forbid you prick her- goodness knows what he will have to say.”
“Pricked or unpricked, he shall have to deem fit what he sees.” You’re responding, head held high. “For I was not the one that insisted upon a marriage.”
“But you simply must understand that—”
Mercifully, your mother’s getting cut off by the shrieking of trumpets outside.
There were many a royal and noble guests invited to your wedding, and each entrance had been marked by the stirring of your orchestra and the announcement by the chief butler. But this…this was a sheer symphony of sound, shivers, and suspense that made you realize that this couldn’t have been anyone but—him.
There was a special melody for your husband-to-be, and your heart thundered along to its march as everyone inside the dressing room rushes to the window overlooking the sprawling courtyard. It was a massive stone masterpiece - the brilliance of human craft - a swooping row of colonnades with a glittering fountain in the middle. Areas sectioned off for the spectators, and marbled pathways from which guests came and went.
Your hands grip the smooth windowsill as you witness a coach of pure white approaching.
It was as unassuming as that of any other guest, only standing out for its sheer elegance.
Large spiralled wheels pulling along a well-built carriage, with a gleaming white hood and its curtains drawn. Larger than most. It seems that the Kingdom of Hybrids had a tendency to use horse hybrids as both coachmen and those tugging on the reigns, they threw their long heads proudly as they pulled on the royal carriage.
“Can you see him—can you see him?!” The attendants whisper to one another.
“I can’t see him yet- say, is it really true that he has the horns of the devil and wings like a bat?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s a snow leopard hybrid. I’ve heard he turns into a leopard at whim.”
“My acquaintance’s acquaintance says he’s cursed with six eyes- yes, six.”
“I’ve heard he’s grotesque-”
They falter, and flicker their gaze towards you. You don’t react.
Your eyes follow its parade between crowds that hush as it passes. It leaves a cold breeze behind it that makes even the heartiest of those celebrating tremble, it leaves the flowing water of your royal fountain freezing. Ice.
You’re leaning even closer to the edge of the balcony, hoping to see but a-flutter of those curtains that might reveal something about the man who was surely inside-
“Ouch-” Startling at the sudden prick of something against your shoulder, you’re turning around to find that the young apprentice had leaned into you- holding her needle from before. The very tip of it had accidentally touched your skin, in her frenzy to see the King himself—and as her face drops in apology, you’re opening your mouth to tell her that it was perfectly alright when-
BANG—!
When a sharp gale causes the windows to slam shut.
Everyone in the dressing room jumps back a foot away from the offending part of the chamber, looking at each other as if to confirm whether they didn’t feel a single breeze prior. You certainly hadn’t, either.
That had just come out of nowhere…
Rattled, no one makes to open the window once more.
The trumpets blare yet again - this time with a slightly less rich tune signalling another guest from a far-off land - and some of the younger attendants merely stare at the closed window longingly—wishing to just see. But one look from the main attendant has them jumping back into action, pins and all.
They had a wedding to prepare you for.
And the groom was already here.
.
.
.
Music was pouring out of the gilded venue.
In a letter later sent by Commander Yaga - and allowed through the barrier by Gojo’s powers - you’d specified that you’d like the wedding to be held in this magnificent limestone building; older than the rest of the palace it was attached to, and just as revered. Gojo’s reply had been simple: I am already aware of this arrangement, my future Queen.
And you didn’t want to think of how he knew.
Low chandeliers. Sprawling rose pathways. Attendants zipped back and forth between extending your train and sneaking looks inside the royal cathedral.
“Do you see him- move-”
“Oh, heavens—is that him?” Your skin prickles in goosebumps.
“I thought he had…”
“I would never have expected him to be so…”
Traitorous to that expressionless facade you had on, your heart races as yet another attendant hastens to join the troupe peering inside the pews- and gasps. For, what could that mean? What could such a reaction be indicative of?
What did Gojo Satoru look like?
It’s not that you held physical looks upon a pedestal - you knew such frivolities were ephemeral, and you’d met far too many handsome nobles whose good looks did little to compensate for their manners or lack thereof. But it’s just…
You had an image of Gojo Satoru in your head.
Though legends often described him as a half-man, half-leopard with six eyes and bat-like wings that carried him over vast battle fields—you envisioned him as something slightly different. Perhaps a half-man, half-beast just as they said, with paws far larger than a normal snow leopard, and a fur-muzzled face that looked ready to eat you.
Something as mythical as they made him sound.
You’re shivering, and one of the attendants asks you whether you’re cold.
You’re shaking your head evenly, and they look up at each other and nod. You touch your gloves for comfort.
They throw the gauzy veil over your face and fully open the double doors to the cathedral. The music had uplifted: it was time for you to walk down the aisle.
Your steps were just as poised and perfect as your years of etiquette lessons had taught you - and to the naked eye, you might even look confident. There goes the Queen, our savior, our monarch, marrying off the monster from the Kingdom of Hybrids to protect her people.
But out of their view, you knew your hands shook where you clutched that white rose bouquet.
It really was cold inside the venue.
It seems like eons before you’re reaching the end of the altar, and before your royal officiant begins his speech. Due to your veil, your vision of Gojo was obscured - other than the pointed tips of polished white shoes. You could sense that he was tall—but just how tall (taller than a human could be?) was still a mystery to you.
As the officiant reaches the end of his speech, two pale hands come into your line of vision. Long with slender fingers, slightly blushed at the tips of his knuckles - Gojo’s hands, you realize with a jolt - were reaching out for something you had.
Your own hands, it catches up to you.
And, tentatively, you’re putting your left hand in his.
It flinches- for just a split-second because of its frigidness. Before you’re keenly aware of the restlessness of your ministers in the front row, and you’re placing it back into his grasp.
“Your Majesty, if you could now place the ring on Her Highness’s finger and repeat after me—” And there was no ring in Gojo Satoru’s hands- there was no ring. But the next time you’re blinking - as if it had just manifested out of thin air - he’s suddenly holding the most beautiful band of silver in his hands.
A delicate wreath of precious metal, fashioned into two ferns that enveloped your ring finger perfectly, settled with a teardrop alexandrite in the middle and two smaller white diamonds on either side. Gojo’s fingers were cold as they held yours and pushed the ring on. The officiant continues, “-with this ring as a symbol of love, of commitment, of unity, and of peace—”
And a soft, smooth tone follows- his.
Not quite the low, animalistic growl that you might have expected, nor the hissing sibilance of something shadowy - but something different entirely.
“With this ring as a symbol of my eternal love, of my commitment, of our unity, and of peace—”
It was the rich, noble tone of a royal. Gojo enunciated his words perfectly - and his deep voice echoed across every corner of the vast cathedral. Such a pretty voice and so- so human that it makes the hairs on your body raise.
The officiant continues with a light cough - if he were equally as surprised at the King’s voice, then he makes no indication. “I wed thee—”
“I wed thee—” And then Gojo says your name and it makes your heart almost stop. The way it rolled off of his tongue…it sounded like a prayer.
“-and pledge my love to you in this lifetime.”
“-and pledge my love to you in this lifetime, and in each one after.”
There’s a slight shifting on the numerous wooden pews as Gojo takes his freedom with the vows. And then a slim silver band is handed to you - it feels cold in your palm, impersonal, though not nearly as cold as your future husband’s fingers - and your hands tremble as you take them in yours. The officiant turns towards you and utters those same vows-
“With this ring as a symbol of love, of commitment, of unity, and of peace…” You’re repeating, sliding the ring onto his lengthy ring finger. Almost inhuman in nature. “—I wed thee, Your Royal Majesty, King Gojo Satoru-”
Your voice falters.
His hands grow a little tighter on yours.
“-and pledge my love to you in this lifetime…” And you’re unsure what makes you take it- you’re so unsure. But you can’t help but echo just what the snow leopard hybrid had stated earlier, “-and in each one after.”
A soft rush of exhales as both rings now glint upon your matching fingers.
United as one.
The officiant’s booming voice announces, “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you…husband and wife.” In the distance a bell tolls, and it swells above the creaking of mahogany as the spectators lean in their chairs. “You may now kiss the bride.”
Gojo’s hands - now clad with a single wedding ring - lift up the safety of your veil. And you’re blinking at the sudden rush of light now—you’re blinking up at him.
And oh.
Your breath catches in your chest, heart a-stuttering. Pert lips. Dimpled cheeks. Young- he couldn’t have been more than a few years older than you. Eyes such a pale blue that they looked almost white. For the crisp white strands of his hair catch the sunlight filtering through the windows, setting his features a-glow and revealing to you the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Human.
He looked utterly human.
Gojo Satoru lowers his head towards yours but hesitates, his gaze searching for an answer in yours. And perhaps it was the shock of seeing the King of Hybrids for the first time - after so long looking out of your window for a glimpse of him - or perhaps it was the dizzying rush of warmth that’d suddenly run through your body but—but you’re leaning in first.
You’re the one kissing him, sealing your fate with the cruelest king of them all.
His lips were smooth and cool to the touch, tasting faintly sweet.
You feel Gojo smile into the union, before he’s pulling back and re-slotting his mouth more eagerly against your own.
Cheers erupt in the cathedral. And surely your advisors were shaking hands with one another, surely your mother was wiping off tears.
One of your hands rests against the silken material of Gojo’s suit, pressed up against his chest where his heart battered. Only slightly faster than your own racing one - even though it wasn’t an embrace too scandalous nor prolonged, a thrill rushed through your body that you couldn’t explain.
Gojo cups your left cheek softly, though there was a lack of pressure that let you know that you were free to pull back any time. And you had to pull back - you needed to.
If not for the fact that this was a man you’ve never met before, then for the fact that The Ton would have far too much to say after the wedding - the King’s condition of a single night only added to the scandal.
But you just….you just didn’t want to. Some strange part of you deep, deep down only wanted to sigh through your nose as you leaned even deeper into him.
Something deep, deep, deep—
Before a hoot of celebration from somewhere in your audience jolts you back into your senses.
And you’re pulling away from him as if it burned.
Burned.
Burned—your body felt as though you were burning up. Feverish.
It feels as though your veins were suddenly thrumming with an energy that wasn’t entirely yours, and the faster every single particle of you was vibrating - the hotter your body was feeling.
Warm tears welling up in your eyes. Mind never having felt clearer.
You’re panting once and it’s the most scorching breeze you’ve ever felt—“Fuck.” A ripple runs through your body as you realize you’ve just sworn without meaning to- and it seems to extend past you and into the body of Gojo himself.
Gojo.
Gojo. Gojo. Gojo.
Whose nostrils flare and his eyes grow sharper. Behind him, his fluffy tail of white with rosettes swings from side-to-side—tail? You hadn’t seen that before…And you’re stumbling closer as if to get a closer look, to which Gojo Satoru easily catches you in his arms.
His strong hand clasps at your waist, and you’re finding your body leaned shamefully into his chest.
Looking up into his pale, pale blue eyes - like the skies of an ever-present winter - you gulp. And then you tilt your neck slightly to the side, as though bearing it for him.
Gojo’s lips part, and you see sharp canines peaking between his pink lips.
The cathedral has gone quiet by now, any sense of humor and victory bled dry - as dry as he could bleed you, if ever his canines chose to make a target of your pretty neck. As though reading their urgent thoughts, the Hybrid King leans in—close enough that his cold pants cascade down your throat and your arched spine.
You gulp as his dampened teeth approach until they’re mere millimeters away.
In what feels like another far-off land, you’re hearing the cluttering of iron and armored knights approaching. The footsteps of your kingdom’s best troop, led by Commander Yaga, and their shouts for Gojo Satoru to cease as he himself plunges into this inexplicable daze. Flesh on flesh.
But you’re only closing your eyes in anticipation of his bite-
His bite that falters as Gojo flicks his snow leopard-like ears over to the storming knights- and he cracks a slight smile.
One arm on your waist, and the other gently grasping your nearly ring-clad hand, he swings the two of you around as though waltzing to a music you couldn’t hear. The orchestra had long stopped.
And then you’re both disappearing into thin air.
Leaving behind only the rose bouquet.
.
.
.
By the time you’re opening your eyes, you weren’t at the royal cathedral any longer, and it feels as though you never were.
And one look around the room you were in makes you think that you never will be again. Ever again.
The chamber opened up like the mouth of a beast, of which you were inside with no way out. Teeth-like artifacts and ridges of bookshelves swathed the circular room luxuriously; titles of both human and hybrid languages of which you knew only a few sparse words. This was clearly the room of someone well-read, and your eyes glazed over at the large mahogany desk scattered with pictures, diagrams, and maps.
Portraits. Balconies with more bookshelves. Stairs and spirals. And a few remnants of armor emblazoned with your kingdom’s insignia, the debris of a meal well-had. Like a massive uvula a chandelier hung from the high ceiling, and the longer you stared at it- the more it dawned upon you that it seemed to be made of some ever-lasting ice.
Its windows provided little light and even less location. Fogged with frosty clouds, they were merely windows into a beast that had no soul—a beast that only hungered with no thoughts. A chill runs down your spine.
In just a second, you knew where you were: you were in the North Palace. Presumably in one of King Gojo’s studies.
You’re feeling his cold presence next to you- and you’re pressing yourself against the stone wall instantly. And he follows. Putting a hand down your right glove and pulling out the dagger you’d hidden beneath—always had. Always will.
You raise the tip of its silver blade to kiss Gojo Satoru’s neck.
It trembles just a little as he swallows.
Gojo has you pushed against the wall - chest to chest, pant mingling with pant - and one of his arms rested on the space above your head. He looks down at you with steely blue eyes.
His snow leopard tail quivers for a little bit- before coming to wrap around your leg.
He almost tugs you to him and you’re gasping, pricking the dagger against his neck until a bead of crimson follows. “A step closer and I shall end this war right now-” You’re hissing.
And to your surprise, Gojo merely smiles. “You may believe that.” He lazily flickers his eyes down to the weapon you had clutched, and a slow frost starts overtaking everything from its handle to the blade. “But I am aware you won’t.”
“You know not a thing about me-”
“So you may think.” He reaches up and you almost flinch- in fact, every fibre of your rational being believes that you should flinch. But something else…something else entirely deeper and ancient keeps you in place, staring into Gojo’s eyes as he runs his fingers down your cheek. Letting the cold metal of his wedding ring kiss your skin, and you’re leaning into the touch - you wanted it so bad. But you didn’t know why. “But I believe I know you more than you might think, my Queen. In this life and others.”
You struggle to keep your breath even- why did you wish to lean into him once more? “You’re nonsensical. You’re crazy.”
“Perhaps so.” Gojo hums, his canines glinted in the dim lighting of the chandelier. “But this lowly hybrid only grows crazy for you.”
Your breath stutters. You’re breathing in his ice-cold scent.
Gojo raises his nose in the air as if smelling something - you do, too, but you’re unable to sense anything but the coldness of winter and pine. But whatever he smells in the air makes him smile something simpering, “You are free.”
You balk, “What?”
“You are free to roam wherever you wish.” He says, finally creating some distance between you two. “You are free to…” Something catches his attention- he reaches out. And for a second there, you think he’s about to steal your dagger—but what Gojo clasps onto is your glove. The King presses that precious fabric against his face and inhales your essence, “-do whatever you wish.”
Leaving you stunned, the hybrid turns his back to you and walks towards the arched door. Glove crushed between his fingers.
He makes it until the frame of the door - of which he fills out most of its vast shape - before looking over his shoulder at you. “Everything except leave, of course. For the night.”
As he walks away, he calls.
“My attendants shall see to it that you’re led to your room and given a tour around the palace, and they shall provide you robes to which you may change into. The bath is already drawn, and my kitchens have prepared refreshments.”
You feel yourself sliding down the stone wall.
“Dinner shall be served once night falls- do not be afraid to let the royal chefs know what nourishments please you.”
Ultimately ending up on the floor. Hand shaking on your dagger.
“Once morning comes, you may do anything you please.”
You’re wondering what it was you felt earlier as you bared your neck to him.
“You may even leave.”
It’s then that a troupe of attendants enter after Gojo’s exit, hybrids of all shapes and sizes and colors—human. For the most part. They were similar to Gojo in the sense that they possessed more human features than the stories of your kingdom foretold, with ears and tails pertaining to their hybrid type, and demeanours which gave away their status as hybrids even if they wore cloaks.
One such hybrid - a red panda with a scar across her beautiful face - introduces herself as Utahime, the head attendant. She looks down curiously at you.
Your panting breaths. Your widened gaze.
“Forgive my manners, Your Majesty, but I haven’t seen a human before.” She tilts her head down at you, red ears twitching. “Worry not…it’s a little startling the first time for us, too.”
“The first time?” You’re being helped to stand by her.
“The first time.” Utahime nods, “Are you perhaps a little disoriented? We may pay a visit to my mate, Shoko, in the healing ward - she’s a caracal if that interests you - if you wish?”
“A caracal—no, hold a moment-” So much was swirling in your head—the first time, the mate, the existence of a healing ward just as your palace did. What on Earth was…“What do you mean by the first time? A mate?”
Utahime looks confused, mouth dropping slightly. “Why, because His Majesty has-”
“Utahime.” A stern, feminine voice sounds from the doorway.
You’re looking over the red panda hybrid’s shoulder to see a woman with short, straight hair standing at the stone door. Her ears so large and triangular - twitching back and forth with its tufted tips—“Allow me to look over Her Majesty.”
“O-of course.” Utahime moves to the side.
The hybrid - Shoko, you assume - looks over you for any signs of injuries or scratches during the journey here, including testing you for symptoms of magical nausea.
And it seems a somewhat regular check-up, one that was reminiscent of the ones conducted in your own kingdom, until Shoko takes a cotton swab out of her medical bag and slides it down the tender spot of your throat.
All down that column. Lymph nodes.
As if your skin was more sensitive than ever, you’re shivering.
She inspects that cotton swab and lets it waft in the air for a seconds - seemingly all ordinary, it’s not long before Shoko’s wrapping it up and placing it all back in her bag.
And you’re not able to ask what that particular process was about before Utahime’s bounding up to you again. The attendants had waited for your brief check-up to conclude.
“Are you prepared for your tour, Your Majesty? Or would you prefer we bathe you first?” She asks.
“I believe I would like to freshen up first.” You answer, before looking at the woman that had an open expression on her face. Little nubs of her canines peaked out through her smile. She wasn’t nearly as terrifying as all the stories had led you to believe, “For what reason do you do that?”
“Pardon?” She cocks her head.
“For what reason do you call me that—‘Your Majesty’?” Being led by her out of the study, you’re being shown around the various hallways and artifacts that were just as grand. “My coronation is yet to be held, though it was supposed to be today…”
“Oh…” Utahime looks at you in slight confusion, “But you are our Queen.”
Your brows furrow, “I am yet to be the Queen of my kingdom yet-”
“You are the Queen of the Hybrids, Your Royal Majesty.”
.
.
.
You’d been slightly too harrowed to wonder just what the condition of ‘one night’ would entail. If you were to go that far…perhaps you’d expected for the consummation of your marriage.
Or whatever it was that hybrids had equivalent.
You’d been ready for it, however, both with your knife and your will.
If you had to fuck Gojo Satoru, then so be it—at least, that had been what you’d thought. Before. Before you’d seen him on the altar, and now, there was a part of you that would gladly exchange the rites of flesh.
And that scared you more than any legend.
Utahime was a wonderful guide around the palace, she explored every grand nook and cranny with you. The ballrooms. The libraries. The frozen fountains- yes, frozen. She took you from staircase down hallway down secret alleyways between bookshelves, leading you into grand halls with portraits of the Gojo family.
You stared quite longingly at those: white-haired, noble-faced hybrids that resembled Gojo in their species and strength. He looked more like his beautiful mother, you learned.
And something clenched in you as you remembered just why they weren’t here.
Looking at the cherub face of the blue-eyed heir in the portrait, you couldn’t help but ask Utahime- “What are the consummation traditions in your kingdom?”
She’d looked towards you slightly startled, “The mating traditions, Your Majesty? Why…the same as your human mating traditions, I suppose.”
You gulped, “And the King-”
“His Majesty would never force you into something that you do not wish to happen.” Utahime reaches out and holds your hand, you’re learning that it’s just as cold as her monarch’s. “Fear not for your safety in this kingdom, my Queen. Harm shall never fall upon you in the Kingdom of Hybrids.”
You trusted her- you didn’t know why, but you trusted her.
It had been past afternoon when you’d arrived at the North Palace, and well into the evening once you’d finished your tour. Thoroughly spent, your jaw had dropped once Utahime told you that it was just a few wings of the palace that’d been explored-
“Tomorrow, we may explore the towns. The people shall be overjoyed to meet their new Queen-” And then she’d stopped in the middle of her sentence, throwing a nervous look your way. “That is…if you so wish to stay past the conditions, Your Majesty.”
And you did not know how to answer her.
Later, after some reading in their vast libraries - far greater than even your own palace’s - you’d been led into a sprawling dining hall for dinner.
It was a chamber that reminded you of Gojo’s study, though vertically longer to accommodate for the snaking table. Polished wood. Sparkling chandeliers. Paintings plastered across its oblong walls. Spread from nearly end-to-end of the royal room, you counted at least a hundred or so chairs on either side as you were bowed inside the great dining hall. Knights stood on guard with their weapons, though they didn’t seem to pose a threat.
The table was laden heavy with food, fantastical ice sculptures, and a fireplace: you wondered how those ice sculptures didn’t melt. Was this a work of Gojo’s powers, as well? Puddings and pastries. Truffles and rice. Steaks and vegetables. Sweet and sour.
Piled higher than your head.
Chocolates melted and crafted into all sorts of artworks that you didn’t even know was possible to do with such an ingredient. In the middle of the table sat a six-tiered wedding cake, proudly crowned with miniature fondant figures of Gojo Satoru and…you.
A cake like this would have taken well over two days - since your response - to create. And that’s not to mention the fact that he already knew what you looked like…
Just how long had he been planning this?
There was everything your heart could desire- and you meant that. You hadn’t taken Gojo up on his offer to make the kitchens privy to your preferences, and yet you were pleasantly surprised to find that almost all of the foods were…your favorites.
All your favorites.
How did they…
You’re being led to the chair positioned at the very end of the table - the head chair often reserved for the leading ruler. The King, in this case.
Only…Utahime pulls out the silver-tipped chair at the very end and gestures for you to sit there.
You?
You’re stopping short, “King Gojo—”
“Shall be sitting beside you, Your Majesty, worry not.” And you’re unsure whether you should be embarrassed that she’d assumed you missed him - rather than the fact that you were wondering when he’d make an appearance, claim that chair the way he claimed you.
And as if to emphasize her point, she’s tapping at the chair right beside yours.
Not the one at the head of the table.
The one beside it.
Lower-tiered.
“His Majesty’s request.”
You’d never heard of a King who’d been happy to sit at a position lower than his Queen- let alone request for such a seating arrangement.
Slightly trembling, you’re taking your seat nonetheless.
And just as soon as you’re settling in- the doors bang! wide open.
In hurries a ferrety man in spectacles, holding an agenda to his chest and bowing so low that his nose touches the floor. “Y-Your Majesty!”
“At ease.” You’re responding, somewhat wary.
“Ijichi…” Utahime grumbles, “What’s the meaning of this? You’re interrupting the royal couple’s dinner together.”
“I-I fear that’s exactly the problem, Your Majesty.” The man - Ijichi, it seems - turns to you with an expression that couldn’t have looked more apologetic if he tried. “I have been sent by His Majesty to inform you that he extends his deepest apologies, for he shan’t be able to attend the royal dinner tonight.”
You’re gripping the silver butter knife at your side, “Pardon?”
And he flinches as though he’s just been struck—“Forgive me! It seems that some ah- unavoidable circumstances have risen that make it somewhat…difficult for His Majesty to join Her Majesty tonight- th-though that’s not certainly not for a lack of want! And His Majesty is supremely upset over the fact, it’s simply…”
Ijichi looks to Utahime for help. In the far corner of the room, the knights shuffle on their feet at the tension.
With a cautious expression, the woman steps closer - and as soon as she’s within his proximity, Ijichi leans down to whisper something in her ear—and her expression melts into one of understanding. Disappointed, but understanding.
She turns to you with an equally apologetic expression, “My apologies, Your Majesty…”
Your heart jumps to your throat.
“The King is unable to attend tonight’s dinner.”
You don’t know why you’re disappointed.
.
.
.
You admit that the dinner passed by in a blur - delicious, and yet still a blur.
Perhaps if you don’t miss anything of this excursion, then you’ll at least think back on those delicacies fondly.
Although, you admit that Utahime - and even the ever-anxious Ijichi - had certainly grown on you. They kept you company throughout the rest of the dinner, and once you were finished the red panda hybrid escorted you to your royal quarters.
It was a vast chamber located not too far from Gojo’s study.
Even though most of the palace found itself composed of cold, hard stone—this room was special. It had the most delicate layers of paint spread across it, something you hadn’t seen before even during your tour - baby blue in color, with faint patterns of snowflakes etched into every corner. Gilded decorations on every piece of furniture. A fireplace against one wall. More books than you could ever read in your entire life - let alone single moon here.
There was a balcony overlooking a befogged land that you could not discern, and a drop from it would have been fatal.
What drew you in the most, however, was the painting.
Most chambers in the North Palace were decked with precious paintings - hand-crafted oils of color in silver frames, those that looked more valuable than a room full of treasure and perhaps just as ancient - for it seemed that King Gojo was a lover of the arts. Interestingly enough.
You wouldn’t have expected that of him.
But this one…this painting was the largest of them all.
It took up the space of one entire wall, which - according to your mental calculations - would have been thirty-two feet tall and eighty-eight feet wide. One side of your bedroom that was donning robes of oil paint—featuring the most picturesque vision of…your kingdom.
Your palace. Your people. Your dream as a monarch: seeing the people of your kingdom as happy as they should be.
The humans in this painting were hand-in-hand in the town square, dancing around a roaring bonfire. Around them were heaving tables laden with food, and behind- oh. Your eyes widened as you take in the painting even further - it wasn’t just the humans that were dancing with one another. There were hybrids, too.
Your bed was a sprawling four-poster, and you huddled in amongst the silk-covered pillows.
This was your one night with King Gojo Satoru.
The first and the last.
Your one and only.
But there must have been a reason for this marriage, for his condition- there must have been. A full moon circled high in the sky, and peace couldn’t have been so easy.
You kept your dagger underneath your pillow that night.
And so you slept—not as fitfully as one might have expected.
When you wake up- it’s still nighttime.
You’re sitting up on the bed and attempting to blink your vision back. It must have been an hour, perhaps two, since you’d gone to sleep- and you hate to admit it, but that must have been the best hours of sleep you’d gotten in years.
You might not even have woken up at all had it not been for the thunderous sound of footsteps outside.
Someone was running- no. Multiple people were running.
Heart battering against your chest, you’re grabbing the dagger out from underneath your pillow and getting onto your feet. You were wearing a thin layer of silk Utahime had bestowed upon you as a nightgown, but there was no time to consider propriety now - something was happening inside the North Palace.
Quickly unlocking the latch upon those double doors, it’s dark enough in the corridors that you’re slipping past the personal guards stationed outside your chamber. And crowded enough that you could slot into the chaos unnoticed.
Attendants. Advisors. Knights.
Hybrids of all different types and varying degrees of urgency - from urgent to being nearly in tears - were trampling like a herd in the same direction down the corridor.
You’re keeping your head down low as you fit into a sparse gap of space and let yourself be led to wherever it was they needed to be. Forwards. Down a hallway. Forwards. Forwards.
Ultimately, you’re not travelling too far before heading down a high-ceiling hallway—the pathway leading up to a private chamber. And by the sheer luxury of this wing - and the constantly incremental paintings of the Gojo family - you’re guessing that this must be where the Hybrid King slept.
Something stirs at the pit of your stomach- did something happen to…?
No, you couldn’t let yourself think that.
Shaking your head free from such thoughts, you’re managing to squeeze past attendants and staff that stuffed every nook and alcove here like sardines. Everyone was fervid to get inside, and even more desperate to get out before too long—
Then…the slightest crack in the door.
Breath catching in your chest, you shoot your arm out to catch it before it closes. Warm light filters from inside, and even warmer air follows it - fighting against whatever hybrid attendant was attempting to close it, you’re managing to wrench it open far enough to push yourself within.
Just as you’re thrust inside, you turn around and catch Utahime’s gaze- also pressed against one wall of the corridor.
Her eyes widen as she realizes just who it is—and her mouth shouts out a silent ‘no-’
Those double doors slam! shut.
It’s a royal bedroom just as large as yours.
And you could go on describing all the polished pieces of furniture, and the draped blue curtains, and the chandeliers, and the books. One of the walls in his bedroom was covered in a painting, just as the wall in your room had been - though you’re not too focused on it right now. A carpet spread from underneath the king-sized bed and nearly to every corner of the room—it was a stone-cold white, stitched intricately in the Gojo family emblem. But that was exactly what caught your eye.
Not the carpet, no- the bed.
Not exactly the bed itself, but rather the heavy metal chains on either side of it. Like dungeon chains.
There were six rings - thick and composed of rusting iron, one being half the length of your body - fastened to both walls sandwiching the bed. Falling from them were chain-links, each one the size of your head and twice as hefty—snaking like boa constrictors along the chamber floor, the foot of the bed, on top of the mattress.
Each one was shackled to the hands and feet of Gojo Satoru.
Panting. Flushed.
Feverish.
Surrounded by some guards, Shoko, and the rest of her healers who kept pressing cold cloths to his forehead, wiping him down furiously.
Bucking into the air with a husky groan- it makes the dungeon chains rattle as they’re tugged on. Hard enough to make the metal creeeeeak—!
You don’t know what more to gape at - the fact that he was strong enough to fight against six of those massive chains and nearly win, or the fact that Gojo was underneath a thin cover and…naked.
Something stirs between your legs.
And instantly-
Instantly, Gojo stills.
The healers take a startled step back, cold cloths suspended in their hands as they assess their silent King.
But Gojo doesn’t mind them.
He’s sitting up properly on the mattress, eyes widened and locked on- oh.
Locked on you.
It makes you jolt.
For there was a harrowed look in his gaze - as though he’d just stumbled across a carnage site, might perhaps be tempted into creating one. And Gojo’s pupils were the size of pinpricks, the sea of blue around them somewhat glowing—were you going mad? Were they really glowing?
His beautiful face was expressionless and primal.
His head raises into the air and sniffs it-
And suddenly those pearly white teeth display in an animalistic growl.
One by one, the healers follow their monarch’s line of sight - and their lips part as they take you in. His human bride.
Shoko’s the first to take a step forwards, “Your Majest-”
“Out.”
A strange thrill runs through your body.
It’s not that Gojo’s voice was particularly loud, nor was it particularly threatening—but it makes every single hybrid inside the room bow.
Falling to their knees.
They’re nodding once.
And in the blink of an eye, the healers - and most of the guards - are jerking onto their feet and running out - barely even throwing you a glance. Those double doors crack open once more, and you’re realizing that the commotion outside had calmed—you get the strange feeling that if you were to turn around, you would see that every other hybrid there was kneeling, as well.
You don’t know how you’re so sure - but you know he isn’t speaking to you.
In mere moments, it’s only Shoko and Higuruma that remain at Gojo’s bedside. They look at you in concern, and then each other- opening their mouths to say something when—
“Out.”
Gojo’s sole command is followed by gales of wind that clatter the windows open and send the two hybrids toppling. They’re collapsing to the ground from the sheer force - ultimately being pushed up until the tips of your feet.
Their King needn’t say a word more for them to stumble onto their feet and make a break for it.
The doors close thunderously, though not nearly as loud as your racing heart.
The wind dies down as they’re leaving you alone with Gojo, and you’re wondering whether he even realized. Not a single waft of the gales had touched you somehow.
You swallow.
It’s just you and him now.
Him and you.
And you’re not understanding where it came from, but you’re overwhelmed by the sudden feeling to walk over to him-
As soon as the thought manifests in your chest, you blink—
And Gojo Satoru’s standing right in front of you.
Towering figure. Heated pants.
Your dagger falls to the floor.
He was flushed as though burning from the inside out.
You swear that he’s even larger than you remember him—and you do remember him being large in the first place. But Gojo’s size right now was nearly inhuman - he stood about a foot taller than before; and the tips of his fingers had elongated with predator-like claws, the canines of his teeth had grown even sharper.
His fluffy patterned tail swishes agitatedly from side-to-side.
Nostrils flared as he drinks in your air.
Envelopes in it.
You’re hesitating before raising your eyes up to meet his- and a gasp catches in your chest at his contracted pupils. Like a snow leopard on the hunt.
He stares you down like his most delicious prey.
And it should make you run- it should. But your body takes a stuttered step closer, until you could feel the heat radiating off of his body in feverish waves.
You’re keeping your gaze confined to the area of his face n’ his sculptured chest, words picked carefully. “Satoru…”
“Leave.” But whatever was on the tip of your tongue washes away with his breathless tone- voice sibilant as though a prayer. “I need you to—fuck, I wish for you to-”
“I refuse.” And your response bewilders the both of you, “You’ve exhausted your requests of me. Are we not fulfilling the marriage contract?”
“We will- we have—” His blue eyes clench shut, as though he was holding himself back. Fists clenched firmly at his sides, they shake- “Fuck, this was not the planned course for our first meeting. Know that you are free to leave if you so wish - leave the chamber, leave the palace, leave the kingdom-”
“I will not breach the conditions-”
“I rescind the conditions.”
Shock pumps through your body, “Pardon?”
“I wished to romance you, I wished to write to you- I wished to show you the beauty of my kingdom tonight but…those gloves- you made me…” He shakes his head, “War shall not prevail—we shall commence the peace negotiations without a moon spent together.” He’s slicking back his dampened white hair, “O-on the terms of an unforeseen illness, you may leave-”
“What sickness?” You demand.
“Rut.”
Oh.
Oh.
It was one of the preliminary lessons in your hybrid history classes: the rut. A period of intense pheromonal and sexual desire; during which the hybrid grapples with the physical, emotional, and pheromonal desire to mate. It was always a concept that intrigued you. For a hybrid, these ruts are best exhausted when spent with a partner, though unmated hybrids may choose to weather through the week independently.
The mating period ends once the hybrid bites into the scent gland of their partner.
Between hybrids.
So why were you feeling so feverish, as well?
You’re unsteady on your feet- and Gojo’s hands shoot out, but then surge back to his sides as though he thought better than to touch you when he was in this state. “Please-”
“I would like to spend the moon with you.” You’re blurting out before you can stop yourself, drunk on the heady scent of winter pine in the room—was it growing stronger? You look at him squarely, “As newly-weds do.”
His breath catches, “You are not aware what you ask of me-” Though his tail wraps around your ankle.
“I am.”
“You are not aware what you ask of yourself.”
“I am.” Insisting.
Something deep inside you. Something deep inside you. Something deep inside you.
Fingers reaching up to the tie of your nightgown- before getting stopped instantly by Gojo’s hand. He pulls back with a hiss as though you burned—the pine fragrance grows even stronger inside the chamber.
His voice cracks as he looks at you, “You…” Eyes blowing out ferally, “You humans are not built to handle a hybrid in rut. I shall easily ruin you-”
“Then so be it.” Your cunt twitches.
And Gojo sniffs the air as though he could smell it.
He moans.
And in a split-second you’re being tackled to the ground- pounced upon. As though you really were nothing but a pretty prey beneath his fingertips, Gojo spreads your back flatly against the carpeted ground—too far gone right now to even start thinking of the bed.
Hands caging either side of your head. Hot breaths wafting your features like a furnace.
He slots his toned, naked hips between your bent legs and ruts-
“Fuck.”
Before letting out the most erotic sound you’ve ever heard in your life - his spit-slicked lips fall open with it and stay open as he keeps pushin’ his trembling hips into yours. Glazed eyes clenching shut. Perspired head falling behind him.
Again and again.
You’re feeling his thickened, throbbing erection press against your pussy through your thin nightgown. Openin’ up the crevice of your folds and massaging all along your outer cunt - because of how closely he was collapsed on top of you, you couldn’t make out just what his cock looked like. But you could feel the heat, you could feel the pulsing of his prominent veins that glissaded down the damp patch of your entrance and made you squeal—
“Y-Your Majesty-” You buck.
And he’s fucking pinning you down with his capped knees upon your legs. His bodyweight leaning on you. “Satoru.” He whispers breathlessly, eyes wide and somewhat dazed still.
“Pardon?”
The hybrid reaches his hand across your body, “My mate shall call me Satoru.”
Mate…?
The fingers on his dominant hand snake down your front and grab a fistful of that satin nightgown you were wearing- before his claws extract and he’s teeeeearing straight through it. Ripping it into nothing but shreds that he’s throwing blindly over his shoulder.
Soon enough, you’re left in nothing but the scraps of what had once been a decadent robe. And the coating of lust across your body.
The evidence was undeniable - even in the yolky yellow fireplace lighting up the bedroom, there was a lecherous glisten between your legs. Naked. Pulsing.
A pretty gloss that makes Gojo take just one wide-eyed look- and gulp.
You think you can audibly hear the effect merely seeing your dampened cunt has on him, and it sends a thrill up your spine. The bed chambers only seem to be spiking in temperature.
A bead of glitterin’ slick drops from your tight hole, making you shiver as it falls vertically between your pussylips- only to be stopped by a single chaste kiss of Gojo’s swollen cockhead. He grasps his base using his right hand, motioning that plump, puckered tip to point around the orifice of your cunt.
He’s probing the reddened top of his shaft against your hole and letting it stretch just a lil’ bit- “Fuck.” You think that it should be you spewing out the profanities - but it’s Gojo instead. He growls. His blue peripherals roll to the back of his skull as he feels you clench around nothing. “Fuh-fuuuuck.”
“Shit—”
He dots at the pearly bead of slick.
He swirls it around your entrance.
He uses it to lacquer his already-glistening cock before reeling his hips back and pushing in-
You’re gasping, hands coming up to dig your nails into his broad back. “Sa-Satoru-”
And his jaw practically unhinges at the hot, heavenly feeling. “Oh heavens…” Muttering something primal at the back of his throat—“O-oh heavens.” He’s feeling the first few centimeters of his throbbing cock get suctioned in, before there’s a sudden tightness of resistance that makes jerk his hips back and push once more- “Oh my Queen—”
“Satoru…” Just about the only thing that you can say, like a frenzied mantra. Eyes shuttering, “Shit, I think you must know-”
The knobbly edge of his thumb veers between your pussylips, stretchin’ them apart and taking a good look in-between. He pumps even harder - “My Queen—please take it.”
Mewling.
He’s tugging those dampened lips even further apart, “Please fit in.” Only growing more and more desperate the longer your cunt refuses to gobble him up whole, “Please- please fit in–”
“Satoru- fuck.”
Fingertips trembling where they were glued to the side of your pussy, stretching your entrance. Thwack after thwack. “Please take- me-”
“You must-” And he was now hammerin’ his hips into you in short, rapid semi-thrusts just to see himself swallowed up. So tight that it felt nearly impossible. So tight that a single drop of crimson escapes you, “-know that-”
“My Queen-”
“-this is my first time.”
There’s a ragged exhale that gusts across your features, making your eyes fall shut at just how scalding hot it was feeling - molten inside. Every bit of his skin in contact with yours felt as though he was burning up—“Oh.” That pretty, spit-glossed mouth of his falls - he ruts once more. “Oh.”
Your toes curl at the swabbin’ intrusion - Gojo was just so big that it was hard for you to take him. Bigger than any normal human.
And you’re feeling it even more once he’s pulling out.
With the most lecherous squelch! his erection plops out of your geysering orifice and ends up laid between your shivering thighs.
“I see…” Gojo hoarsely mutters, eyes entrenched in a staring competition with your pussy. “Mine, too.”
“Pardon?” You lean up onto your elbows instantly.
“I believe I said—” He trails off, “Mine, too.”
A thousand and one questions are whirling through your mind - everything from why Gojo hadn’t partaken in a mating period prior to this, to why he’d chosen you—
And then you’re blinking.
And suddenly you’re finding yourself sprawled out across his king-sized bed.
Head laid gently against the numerous luxurious pillows, your legs spread apart as though you’d never moved from the floor. You’re faced with the slight inertia of the entire room shifting so suddenly- and it takes you longer than it should’ve to realize that he’d just teleported the two of you once more.
You’re clamoring up to rest upon your elbows, and staring down at the hybrid that’d slotted between your legs now.
His soft strands tickle your body. Gojo’s already shifted until his face was level with your navel - his hot breath wafting across your skin. It sends goosebumps skittering across your middle n’ all the way down to your cunt—
Something that he’s leaning in and sniffing.
Breathing in.
And then Gojo trundles out a low, animalistic growl.
You feel your hips bucking up in response and you’re not quite sure as to why-
But you don’t have the time to ponder upon it for too long before Gojo dips the tip of his looooong, luscious tongue between your pussy’s slit.
He’s sticking just the very edge of his tastebuds fitting between your folds and slide-slide-sliiiiiding down that dampened crevice. Up and down. Slipping between the two and slurping away the dewy droplets of sap that cling onto your cunt-
Gojo halts as the first taste of your pussy trickles into his mouth.
And then he’s gasping his parched lips open- already sounding as though he’s run a fucking field. “So this-” Letting those deep vibrations of his voice scatter right between where you were most sensitive, “-this is what my mate tastes like.”
There it was again—mate.
Your body thrums, taking a strange pleasure in being titled that by the hybrid.
“Wh-what do you mean by m—oh.” Moan turning into a yelp as his fluffy rosette-decorated tail - one you hadn’t even realized was snaking ever-closer to your body - wraps around your right thigh and wrenches you closer to his hungry body. You stare into his eyes- starving.
Plastering his lips against your other ones as though he was fucking famished- Gojo’s nose digs between the wet slit of your core. Delving in-between. “My mate.” The only thing he can manage to utter. The pointed tip pushes on the nub of your clit as though a button, grindin’ away deftly as he’s making out. “My mate, my mate, my mate—”
“Satoru—” You’re crying out, “I-I’ve never done this before…is it supposed to feel this good?”
“Hmmm…” He’s clearly leering against your sensitive parts- and you can feel it. The hardness of his pearly whites tracin’ all over your entrance - “I haven’t partaken in such activities either, is this kitty supposed to taste this sweet?”
You gasp. “You can’t just utter such obscenities-”
To which he pays no attention before rubbin’ his flushed cheek along the inner parts of your thighs—Gojo leans in takes a gooooood whiff of where your pheromones were most saturated. Eyes falling shut as he indulges himself in it, and once he’s opening them back up you swear those pupils of his have transformed into hearts. “Is this kitty supposed to smell this sweet?”
You’re simply bucking in shock at that.
Elongated claws tapping warningly against where he’s holding the right side of your waist, “Settle, my mate.”
And he can smell it- the way your cunt grows even more aroused, even sweeter, at being given this command. Paired up perfectly with your pet name.
That’s when he decides that he’s had enough of lappin’ away at the numerous layers of slick that polished your cunt - he’s had enough.
He wasn’t some little kitty.
Gojo Satoru was a big cat, and that meant he has a big tongue.
Big enough to drown himself completely n’ utterly silly in the sweetened juices leaking out of you. In a mere few moments, he’s licked you completely dry. And he’s spreadin’ away the inside of your rim, scouring his tongue inside for more, more, more—
Long, thorough slashes inside your cunt.
“Sh-shit—” You’re babbling away stupidly, back arching off of the mattress. Ending up draggin’ your pussy even further against Gojo’s mouth - knocking against his nose and making him take your restless body on happily. “Shit, your tongue-” Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, “-it’s sho big—”
“All the better to taste you, dear.” It’s a wonder that Gojo could detach himself from your pussy even for those brief seconds to answer.
Thrusting right between those swollen pussylips of yours- right into that quivering hole. He swirls his thickened muscle around a few times, “And y-you’re so…” You could feel the texture of his uniform, ridged tastebuds molding to the sides of your walls. “-fuck, your tastebuds are so pointed.”
“All the better to feel you, dear.” But of course, if you were in any better state of mind then perhaps you would’ve remembered that snow leopards in particular possessed tongues with specialized tastebuds. Longer. Sharper.
Yet right now, the only thing you’re thinking of is just how good it feels to have Gojo Satoru fuck you with said tongue.
He was just so looooooong and thick. He stuffs you to the brim already.
Spreading and stretchin’ his tongue against your walls- as far inside as it could possibly go. Quite audibly, you swear you can hear the sounds of his wet muscle expanding against that snug channel. “A-and, Satoru…” To him, your mewls sound like the prettiest song he’s ever heard. “-you’re so ravenous.”
He chuckles out something feral - something octaves higher than his usual baritone - against the front of your pussy. Pulling away from it with a wet smack! “All the better to…” And you know the strangely predatory tone of his voice shan’t bode well for you. And you know the way he fucking purrs—yes, purrs as he nears your pussy once more shan’t bode well for you. “-eat you, my dear.”
And then Gojo’s slamming every inch of his tongue back inside you - every fucking inch.
Except, this time…there’s a clear motivation tinglin’ at the honed tip of muscle. You could practically taste it in the soft sizzling wads of spittle that kept on leaking out of you.
Gojo was tonguing at your pussy like a maddened man- letting his nose crush against your clit, letting his canines nip slightly on your bloated folds. He plasters your cunt against his chin, head angled juuuuuust the exact number of degrees it’d take for him to propel his tongue forwards and hit a particular spot inside you.
Your feet anchor onto the luxurious mattress. Your back forms the perfect curvature against the bed.
You’re letting your moans pour out of you twofold as you throw your head back n’ forcefully wrench your hips forward. “There—” Registering, it takes a second for your mind to catch up to the fact that Gojo’s lengthy hybrid tongue has just rammed into your g-spot - with just his tastebuds. “Y-you hit my…I didn’t know that was even—oh, Toru.”
“My Queen.” Hoarse. Hissing. His tone was completely fucked as he uses his powerful tail to tug you even further against his slackened mouth, “My mate.”
“Toru, that feels too-”
“Let this kitty cream on my mouth.” Even his high cheekbones burn a faint crimson at the declaration, though he doesn’t deny nor retract it. “Let this, kitty—” Come to think of it…the snow leopard hybrid was purring as he’s makin’ out between your legs. “-let this kitty cum…”
“Gonna—” Your voice starts hatching at the back of your throat, “G-gonna cum-”
Spurred on by your affirmations, those slashes at your g-spot grow even faster. More frequent.
Deeper.
There’s a tingly buzz coating your outer pussy at the rapid movements of his tastebuds- back n’ forth, back n’ forth, back n’ forth. And you’re feeling your pleasure start to ember even more powerfully as he keeps on planting constant hits and thrashes.
Tugs and pushes.
Hit after hiiiiiiit upon your poor g-spot.
Soon enough, your vision starts to overload with sultry white stars of bliss. And Gojo smells the cloying pheromones on you before you even register it- but you’re cumming.
All over his tongue.
It’s a wave of euphoria that starts from the tips of your toes and explodes where his tongue was diggin’ between your pussylips- before ultimately shooting through every valve, blood vessel, and capillary within you. Taking over you.
Toes curling. Tears shooting up to your eyes.
This might just have been even better than those long, lonely nights beneath your royal covers - when you’d slip in a finger or two and fervently hope that your attendants didn’t need you for anything.
You’re letting out the prettiest few echoes of his name- and you don’t even care who hears you right about now. Because the one person that commanded them all - this entire land - had his head between your legs and his tongue lappin’ away hungrily.
As though he hasn’t had a proper meal in months—you’re suddenly remembering with a jolt that he’d missed dinner tonight.
Gojo manages to probe your most sensitive spot during peak after peak.
Rush upon rush of dopamine flooding your body- he was sure to drag his textured tastebuds along your most precious caverns when those times came. And perhaps if your mind was any less muddled, he’d be able to tell you that he’s timing them perfectly using the spikes of your heady pheromones whenever you felt too good - but he was happy to merely listen to your babble right now. To fuck you stupid with his mouth.
He was tugging aside your pussylips and scraping every inch of your walls as though he wanted his entire nation to hear you—“Mine.” The pointed tip of his tongue tickles your g-spot, “My mate-”
Those mere few droplets of slick you were letting out wasn’t enough for Gojo, and he’s using the unyielding restraint he had on your ankle to keep on gyrating your hips. Manhandling your hips. Grinding your wet pussy against his mouth.
His maw slurpin’ every orifice-
Spreading aside your velvety walls as though he wished to go even deeper. And he’s reaching up his right hand to push aside those swollen lips of yours and—
“Sh-shiiiiit—” You’re just barely surfacing from your last orgasm when you feel something cold n’ clammy sliding down your swollen pussylips.
Claws retracted. The knobbly tips of Gojo’s fingers spread you open—and you’re just starting to wonder which set of hands this is…when you feel the frigidness of his fucking wedding ring probe inwards. It was a band of pure silver far colder than even his own hands- contrasting thoroughly against the heat of your pussy.
You’re whining as though you’re wounded (though it was the complete opposite of feeling as such) as the ice-cold sensation of it circles your sensitive hole a few times.
Gojo teases your entrance before he’s properly sinking in. Taking his time—not at all.
Did you really think that a hybrid in heat took his time? Did you really think that a hybrid in heat didn’t have the patience to merely take his ready mate?
And that was exactly what the King was doing with his perfectly prolonged digits - already having stretched out your cunt enough that he doesn’t have to hesitate before plunging in two fingers into your wet cavern. “Wait- you’re still not done?”
His long lashes flutter, “Would you like me to be, Your Majesty?”
“N-not exactly, it’s just…” And you almost feel shy admitting this to him - even though you’ve already come…so far, there were still some etiquette lessons drilled into you. “-I thought I’d be getting Your Majesty’s cock by now.”
And that makes him stall.
That makes his doughy fingertips lurch up and hit the roof of your cunt—accidentally locating your g-spot with just a bit of swerving.
“Oh.” Gojo’s jaw drops a bit- and those dimples make an appearance once more. “Worry not, my Queen.”
There’s the most long, lecherous sluuuuuurp! as he then pulls his fingers out.
“A beautiful creature such as yourself shan’t be fucked like any other lowly human.” The hybrid leers up at you with a half-lidded gaze, and those fingers of his twitch excitedly at your entrance. He murmurs thickly, “I’m going to breed you.”
Slam!
And that’s all it takes for his fingers to stuff you in every nook n’ cranny.
Those mountainous knuckles of his start up like a battering ram between your legs, and no matter how much you’re squirming at the overstimulation- you can bet on Gojo’s tail to hold you in place. Stronger than it looked with its unassuming demeanor.
Every time you’re being lurched backwards by the sheer force of his fervid thrusts, the King drags you back down using his appendage.
Leaving you not an ounce of mercy as he’s swabbin’ his rounded fingertips into your g-spot—so long that he’d be able to tease that particular bundle and then glide down to swat your cervix.
Your eyes bulge at the feeling of his intrusion, back arching. “O-oh my god—”
“Satoru, you mean.”
“Sato—pardon?” Tears layering over your peripherals, your vision’s starting to become hazy nonetheless. And a shiver runs down your spine as you’re watching his handsome face lean closer to your dripping wet core once more.
All the excitement of Gojo hookin’ his fingers in n’ ruining you from the inside meant that your slick was overflowing. Excess that he leans down to lap his tongue over as though the sweetest nectar- and maybe it really was.
Gojo’s flattened tongue starts rolling the most lewd kitty licks over your throbbing clit—holding eye contact with you all the while. “My mate.”
“Satoru-” You yelp.
“My mate—” The constant rhythmic slamming against your g-spot was starting to make your g-spot feel tender. Perhaps it has even started bruising - perhaps you were hurtling into your second orgasm faster than you might’ve thought.
And it’s with his upper half bowed over your pussy - with his canines gnawin’ away on your clit - that Gojo pushes you into cumming. Again.
He makes yet another zap of euphoria take over your body- so lightheaded now that it felt as though you could keel over at the softest breeze. Your thighs tremble. Your legs fight to wrap around his head.
And Gojo’s taking such utter pleasure in stopping your squirming hips from moving- from smoochin’ and smoochin’ the slender tips of his fingers against your sweetest spots.
“Hafta make my- ngh, mate feel good.” He’s whispering, almost to himself. Gojo runs the plumpness of his fingertips aaaaaaall across your insides, quirking them perfectly when he has to run you through a peak of your high. “Hafta-”
“Cumming—” Too late, you’re bellowing out. “I’m c-cumming, Toru.”
“I know.” He responds simply. “This kitty told me.”
And you swear that’s enough to push you straight over another edge - another high. Sparks of friction breaking out across your skin. As Gojo stimulated your clit n’ your deepest innards to elongate this current one, and past that into another one, and another one, and another-
“Cum—fucking cum, kitty kitty.” He hums.
Four- yes, four of his fingers pushing aside your slick-glazed walls now.
By the time you’re letting the waves of pleasure wash over you, you’re completely and utterly spent. Exhausted. Unable to do anything but lay yourself spread-eagle on the duvet, you’re raising your head weakly to look down at Gojo.
He pulls off of your clit with a lecherous pop!
A few thin strings of spittle still connect you to his mouth, “Brace yourself, my mate.”
“Brace…?” And as he straightens from his position at your feet - from his position worshipping your pussy at your feet - you’re letting your jaw drop. “Oh.”
Because it was justified for him to ask you to brace yourself.
Hell, you might just not make it out alive if you didn’t brace yourself.
You’d already known that Gojo was considerably big from his time ruttin’ against you on the carpeted floor like some animal. But what you didn’t know was just what he looked like exactly.
Large.
Lavished in veins.
It was expected that Gojo would be bigger than a human man - or, at least, what you’d assumed a human man would average based upon your sparse knowledge from anatomy books - but it’s just how much bigger than made your jaw drop. For he was comfortably around eight inches, perhaps even veering into nine.
Seeing the sheer girth of his base was enough to make your thighs squeeze together- squelch! You’d underestimated just how wet you’d gotten.
Plump tip furiously swollen n’ agitated - the merest breeze was enough to make him dollop out a generous serving of his precum. It was flushed a shade of pink that matched the blush upon Gojo’s cheeks as he took in your staring.
Vermicular veins. Throbbing circumference.
And then there were his pretty balls - so full. Decorated along his v-line with a spattering of snow-white hair.
And you found yourself admitting that Gojo Satoru was strangely—pretty.
All the way down to his cock.
You swallow, “S-so?”
“Pardon? And so?” The King cocks his head in cute confusion.
His ancient bedframe then creeeeeaks as you’re lifting your hips up, “Aren’t you going to breed me like you promised, Your Majesty?”
He flinches as though he’s just been struck.
Oh…hasn’t anyone ever taught you not to poke the bear? Or in this case, the snow leopard? Nevermind that now, however, because it was far too late for it - given you’d found yourself married to one.
To the beast that bears his teeth carnally upon your provocation.
To the monster that slots his hips between your thoroughly jittery legs and gives your cunt a gooooood spankin’ with his ruddied tip.
To Gojo Satoru who runs his twitching tip down the forefront of your pussy a few times before he’s spreading apart your pussylips and push-push-puuuuushing. Sinking in his teeth into his lower lip as he sinks his cock into you—and immediately, tears spurt to his eyes.
Gojo’s barely easing an inch between your swollen folds before he’s fucking sobbing-
“It- it feels—” He’s clawing out a few wretched moans from the back of his throat. “It feels s-so—”
“So—?” You’re attempting to coax out of him. This was his first time just as much as yours, and although you might not know much about hybrid mating rituals, one thing was for sure - Gojo was extra, extra sensitive tonight.
“So g—ngh.” Choking those words straight back into his throat- he’s just barely managing to fit his plump, reddish tip in. It was throbbing against your walls and slippin’ inside with the help of your slick. “How can it feel so good?” He hisses.
Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, “Pardon? Y-you’re asking me- hck! how?”
“How.” As though no other explanation was needed. Gojo’s fucking into you in shallow, short thrusts—almost nothing. Barely squeeze-squeeze-squeezing the first thickened segment of his shaft inside before he’s met with the resistance of your tight channel- and then he’s pulling back with a pained groan as if it killed him to detach himself from the glutinous embrace of your pussy.
And the more n’ more he’s feeling you—the more he’s utterly breaking upon entering your warmth. “Is there magic that you use? I-is there a spell you’ve put me under?” His grip on your waist trembles.
“No…” You whimper, “And for what reason…”
“For i-it should not be possible for a kitty to feel so…” He groans. Gojo’s eyes are fluttering shut once you give his throbbing girth a little clench, and when he opens them back up again you’re finding those sky-blue peripherals to have been covered with a few layers of tears. “-so delicious.”
“You make it sound as though you wish to- ngh, feast upon me.”
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?”
The hybrid edges his perspired head closer to yours, letting the tips of his white bangs tickle your skin. “For what else must newly-weds do on the night of their wedding?”
That silver wedding ring glints on his left hand - both due to the quality of the metal, and due to the fact that it was still covered in the remnants of your sweet juices.
Gojo notices this, too.
And without a single warning, he’s reaching his hand up and sucking off the glaze of slick. Looking you straight into your dilated pupils as he does so.
It sends a carnal throb down to your cunt that he sniffs in the air-
And then everything’s happening at once.
Gojo’s jolting, Gojo’s grasping both of your pretty legs and throwing them over his shoulders. Hands upon either side of your limbs n’ wrangling them easily as he bends his upper half down looooow—kissing his sweaty forehead to yours.
The sudden change in positions makes you keen. “A-and you’re completely sure you’re inexperienced, Toru?”
“Promise, my mate.” He exhales into your mouth. “I’d never take another but you.”
And though the gesture had started off sweet…the further his mazin’ tip scoured in, the sharper his canines grew against your poor wobbly lips. The stronger his body seemed to grow in response to pinning your needy hips down and shoooooooving rude cock inside-
“Take it.” Gojo snarls into the crook of your neck, “Take it.”
“Please—” Being pushed constantly up towards the mahogany headboard.
“Take- oh.” Absent-mindedly, he wraps his powerful tail around your left thigh once more. Stopping you from being jostled back and forth because of the sheer force of his rovering hips- hips that were just hungry to feel his mate warped around his entire, rock-hard cock.
And you wonder whether he even realized.
Because if you thought it was far-fetched to assume that Gojo Satoru was breaking on your pussy just from the ruined state of his voice, then you’d be sorely mistaken.
The longer he’s tunneling between your sodden pussylips, the more n’ more he’s less the composed gentleman you’d been married to at the altar. “Take it-” To be quite honest, you’d be comfortable stating that he was becoming more hybrid than human the longer he was in lecherous contact with the wet cavern of your cunt. “Take it, take it, take it—please.”
Tears falling down his pretty cheeks.
The longer his thrusts became, the more hidden crevices inside you that he was opening up. You’d been completely right to ogle Gojo’s massive cock- because right now it felt like he was splitting you in half.
In the best way.
“You need to take it, sweetheart—” Gojo damn near whimpers, “You n-need to take your mate’s cock…”
He was straightening out the smallest crevices at your innards, he was digging his claws deeeeep against the sides of your thighs. Pulling you back after every thrust.
And it’s not long before Gojo finds himself completely bottoming out.
Letting his divot baaawl out a few ribbons of pre that slick towards your womb. Letting his bulbous, blushin’ tip thud! away at the very back of your cervix.
The silken bedsheets are bunching up where Gojo’s knees were scrambling to get even closer to the bottom of your pussy. Attempting to push his probin’ cockhead even deeper inside your sponge-covered depths, Gojo’s practically falling over himself to bend you in half.
To bend and to bend.
To thrust and to thrust-
The bed creaks in a cacophony that accurately represents just how he’s fucking you like he’s furious. Body burnished in heat. Hissing and snarling between his clenched fangs.
Those unfairly attractive hips of his were affected, too, because they’re starting to stutter forwards as though he’s just found heaven inside of you. Reeling his hips aaaaaall the way back in reverse - until his rounded, reddened tip was the only thing holding your entrance open.
And then Gojo wastes no time before pounding himself inside all the way till the hilt.
The very hilt.
You’re squirming at the patch of his white, white hair that scratches your pretty clit. “A-and about the breeding thing…”
“Hmmmm?”
“Are you really going to fuck me- ngh, pregnant, Toru?”
Awwwww—how cute. Those glowing azure eyes of his widen in amusement- or perhaps something else entirely that you weren’t able to pinpoint. He leans in with a simpering smile, “Fuck you pregnant? How crass.”
“N-ngh—” Your head throws back at the feeling of his globular cockhead lining down your g-spot. He ends up rubbin’ over that particular bundle of nerves for a few seconds, before glissading a hit straight to your womb-
“I’m going to make you my mate, my Queen.”
“Oh-”
“Officially.”
You’re unsure what exactly such an arrangement between hybrids would entail—but all you know is that you want it. Badly.
A primal desire deep-rooted into your very being, one that you couldn’t explain even if you tried - it was from the depths of your soul, pouring outward in every ribbony wire of slick that you were letting out. All for Gojo Satoru. Clinging onto Gojo Satoru.
It’s coating his thickened cock in numerous layers that glisten underneath the pale lighting of a royal chamber, splatterin’ between your two bodies as his frenzied pace only accelerates. “Sa-Satoru—”
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
It always sent such a shocking thrill across your body to realize that he was the one referring to you like that - perhaps your most formidable foe yet.
And the massive bedframe creaks as you’re raising your hips up to meet his- the constant smack-smack-smacking of skin on relentless skin growing in pitch and volume. “I need it.” Looking at him through your tear-drenched lashes, “I need it s-so badly—”
“What is it?” He breathes out in an almost desperate tone. Gojo presses his lips to yours and kisses you in a way that was so fucking filthy—he’s flickering his tongue in and out, fishing out the sweet wads of your saliva. Before leaning his head back a bit and spitting between your wobbling lips - claiming every spot inside you that he wanted to. “What is it that you wish for, my Queen?”
Before anything else, his right hand then snakes between your two sweaty bodies.
Familiarly locating your cute clit and giving a few niiiiice rolls between his index and his thumb.
“Tell me—” He responds. He begs. “Tell me what it is your heart desires-” His sentences and syllables being punctuated by a solid slam against the back of your pussy every time. “Tell me, and I shall move mountains and heaven for you, my mate.”
And after such a declaration, a part of you almost feels embarrassed about the next words out of your mouth—“I want you to…cum inside me, Toru.”
He jolts. “Sweetheart, are you aware-”
“Not that.” Gojo answers - and the sudden leer that follows is something that makes your lips part. Something that was certainly not going to bode well for you or your poor pussy…“Sweetheart, are you aware that-”
And before he’s finishing that particular sentence, Gojo reaches down and gently clasps your dominant hand in his own.
He tugs it down between his legs-
To where you’re feeling the smooth gliiiide down his erect shaft—down every single curve, crevice, and vein. He was just so long that this made you squirm. Ultimately, you’re ending up with your fingertips pressed against the very start of Gojo’s hilt, where the carpet of his white hair was just ending.
And you’re wondering just what it is he was trying to oh-so-lecherously make you feel when…
When your palm pushes up against something so very thick and swollen at the base of Gojo’s cock. And you’re just gasping-
“A-are you aware of the effect you have on me, Your Majesty?” Gojo’s ragged tone permeates your hearing, punctuated by the constant thrashes n’ bucks of his hungry cock. Inside, inside, inside. “Are you aware that this is how you make me feel?”
He crushes your hand even further against that extra swollen portion of his erection, “And h-how exactly…”
He falters, “Pardon?”
“How exactly is…this, Toru?”
“How exactly?” He’s hissing through his teeth, tone wavering unsteadily. He sounds ruined, he sounds shattered—he sounds gone. There’s almost a sense of amusement in his tone as though you were pulling on his leg - he bores deeeeply into your eyes whilst he fucks you. “How exactly—?”
“Y-ye—oh.”
Slam!
At that very moment, he’s rammin’ his hips into yours so hard that the skin around his pelvis reddens. Stings.
And Gojo himself can’t help but let his head fall backwards with a guttural hiss, those pretty white brows of his knotting—“Fuh-fuck.” Before starting to rut down in even sloppier pushes of his firmed-up cock.
Hard.
Fast.
Your ass cheeks were practically refusing to have contact with the bedspread below. Just bent that far.
The question he’d asked you earlier had been a rhetorical one - though that doesn’t stop Gojo himself from pistoning into you as though he was attempting to fuck the answer out of you. As though he was hoping the globular edge of his shaft would reach your pretty brain, n’ swerve around a bit to ultimately activate whatever part of you there was that’d understand.
To flick a switch on - something carnal.
Once you’ve been pounded utterly stupid- Gojo presses down with his mazing cockhead until you’re filled up to the very hilt. And you can feel the swollen ring at his base start to relax against the front of your puckered pussylips, “What you need to know is…this is a knot, sweetheart.”
“A knot?” Babbling through your tears.
“A knot.” Gojo affirms, “And do you know what hybrids do to their mates using their knots?”
Shaking your head.
“First, we claim our mates.” He’s draggin’ his roughened thumb down between your sultry pussylips and rolling over your clit. If you were in any clearer a state of mind right now, perhaps you’d have noticed that he was spelling out his first fucking name on top of that swollen nub. “First, we fuck them until they can’t speak—can’t move—can’t do anything but beg for more.”
You’re bucking upwards greedily, and in response he’s letting out a growl. “Y-yes, and?”
“Then we let them cum a few cute times—” He’s giggling at the way your mouth drops in realization - he was doing the exact same thing to you.
Was technically, still doing the exact same thing to you with the way he’s stimulating every fibre of your being. “And then-”
“Then we get them in a cute- hah, mating press.” His fluffy tail swooshes around before looping around your left thigh and tightening, veering dangerously close to the in-betweens of your legs. As if he was sharing his most precious secret in the world with you, Gojo leans dooooown until his lips were at your ear- “Then we cum so much inside them that they can’t even breathe without feelin’ me all inside your pretty kitty.”
Sobbing, “Th-then—?”
“Then…” The King’s reeling his powerful hips backwards, all the way until he’s nearly pulled out. Only the better to fuck you with…“Then m’fucking you with my fat knot until you can’t even think about letting my cum go to waste, my mate.”
“Oh—”
And with one hand braced upon the right side of your head - the other furiously toying with your perked clit - Gojo’s striking your pussylips in constant thwacks! Thwack! after thwack!
Trying to get his knot to fit inside.
Gojo’s vein-covered cock massaging your walls in such a frenzy just feels so good- “O-oh my god…” You’re babbling out, “Toru, m’gonna cum again.”
“Good.”
“Toru, m’gonna cum now—”
“Good.”
Those half-lidded blue eyes of his were locked on every expression you were making - even the tiniest shifts and twitches. His nostrils flare once you’re feeling your stomach give into the surges of pleasure shooting up from your cunt—and the hybrid seems to know before even you do when you’re crash-landing straight into your nth high of the night.
You’ve seriously lost count.
“C-cumming…” You mewl out weakly- hands coming up to clasp onto his sweaty head. Pressing your lips against his as he fucks you through every zap of pleasure. “Feels so good- ngh, feels so good—”
“Is that so?” He harkens, “Is that so, Your Majesty?”
“Never felt anything better-”
Eventually, your high rises and falls faster than it has before - solely due to the sheer number of times tonight. It’s nothing but the splash of dopamine that engulfs your body and leaves it sizzling with pleasure moments afterwards.
Even the slightest rub-a-dub of Gojo’s veiny patterns leaves you gaping. Those aftershocks were so strong that it makes your eyes tear up—“I need it.”
Before long, Gojo feels you grab onto a handful of his perspired hair and haul him even closer. And he can’t deny the way that makes his swollen tip twitch just a little harder inside you-
“I need you to c-cum inside me…” You’re pleading up at him, “Need you to- ngh, mate me, Toru.”
“Oh…” After a few more sloppy strikes, he’s letting his tail drift up from your legs to your abdomen. Just where your spine ended, you’re feeling that powerful appendage of his push up on your body and arch your hips up a bit further. “Then brace yourself, my mate.”
And it takes only a single, slammin’ thrust for him to empty out his wads of cum.
Bucketload upon bucketload that he’d been waiting to pour into you for soooooo fucking long now. Thick. Treacly. Those constant ribbons of cum web your insides like a flood, splashin’ around and helping him reach your womb in no time.
It’s just so hot and wet.
It’s just bloating up those poor pussylips of yours- before the man himself eases down his pace to better end up pushin’ those wettened wads inside.
You could physically feel the flared ridge of his mushroom tip—spreading apart those gluey walls of yours and fucking his cum even deeper. Deeper. “Fuck.” Clinging onto every nook n’ hidden cranny inside you as you’re getting utterly stuffed—straight to the brim. It’s already starting to froth outwards, “Fuck-”
“Settle, my mate.” Gojo’s dragging you in with his fluffy white tail, ears flattened in pleasure. It takes a single tug for him to jerk you down- “Shhhhhhh shhh shh, settle.”
“I’m- I’m trying—”
“We’re not even halfway done yet.”
“Pardon?”
It’s the last thing you’re hearing before Gojo jerks his hips forward and fucks his knot past that first ring of your entrance - only about halfway through.
The Hybrid King has to use his hand upon your clit to stretch your pussylips apart- to ease your elastic hole to the side just a bit before he’s siiiiiiiinking his thickened base inside. It takes a few tries - a few animalistic bucks - for him to finally fit his knot between your legs with the loudest slurp. “Got it—”
Gojo’s hissing breath cascades down the front of your body, and his clammy head drops into the crook of your neck.
“G-got you.”
Before you know it, you’re feeling the sharp punctures of his canines against your swollen scent glands. Those sensitive bumps against the side of your neck - you’d noticed them growing more and more inflamed throughout the course of the night, and they’re just so volatile as Gojo sinks his leopard-like fangs in.
You feel something deep inside you pop!
Your scent gland. Or whatever it was that humans had similar…
And he holds you there like this - like a predator with his teeth dug into the throat of his prey - until both your waves of bliss have completed. Until he’s emptied his swollen balls inside of you, and he’s completely n’ utterly sucked dry by the wettened warmth of your pussy.
You’re squirming at the feeling of his heaping puddles of ivory deep inside you—“T-Toru.”
Gojo finally pulls off with a heated pwah! and stuffs his face into the crook of your neck. “Yes, my mate?”
Mate. Mate. Mate.
Now you were officially his mate.
His knot was pulsing deep inside you, softening ever-so-slightly as the moments pass.
You’re running your hands through his perspired air, “I just wanted to know…” Wording your sentence carefully, your sentiments hidden. “Why m-”
“Who else would it be but you?” He’s interrupting you instantly. Immediately, Gojo pulls away and peers at you with his widened eyes—“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but in this life and every other…” He grasps your hand and presses his pinkish lips to the back of it, “-this lowly hybrid has always been fated to be yours.”
“Every other?” You ask with bated breath.
“Every other.” He affirms. “In every life, we were meant to find one another…” And he looked almost shy admitting such a thing—“We hybrids…we can feel it. Though for you humans, it may not be so strong.”
“Oh.” Your mouth drops softly.
“But even if we weren’t…” Gojo finally tears his eyes off of you- as though it pained him to not have you before his gaze for even a mere moment. “—I would have found you if it tore down the Earth.”
And then you’re turning with him.
Following his line of sight.
Right to the wall of his bedroom that you’d noticed had been painted before- but never noticed exactly with what upon it—
It was a painting of you.
More specifically, of a landscape from what you’d assumed to be this very bedroom: the sprawling valleys and fields that led up to your kingdom. The thorn barrier that separated him from you. Though no barrier could ever possibly hide the spiral of your wing, the blinking light that you’d put out every night - hoping, just hoping that someone would see it and answer.
How had you not noticed this before?
Perhaps, in your own way, you’d been searching for him, too.
“I would like to stay, Satoru.” You breathe, as if a secret. “I would like to stay- and I would also like for you to love my kingdom just as much as I shall love yours.”
“Then it shall be done.” He presses his forehead to yours, “Revenge has never been my strong suit.‘
Unbeknownst to yourself, you’ve teared up- and Gojo reaches down to gently wipe those hot tears away. He murmurs deeply, “My mate…”
“Yes, my husband?”
“We’re going to rule the world.”
You’re learning two more things about hybrids in the succeeding hour.
The first being that they really did have a particular talent for the arts - Gojo especially, considering that he’d been the one to paint most of the artworks in the palace. Including this one.
This is just a little thing I wrote and I wanted to share here, so I hope you guys like it. it's my first time writing for JJK too, so this is really pulled out of my booty. Please remember English isnt my native language so you might find some grammar atrocities
Whom: Gojo, Sukuna, Geto, Nanami, Toji and Choso
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🍓 Gojo The Subtle Shield
The market was buzzing today, music from a nearby speaker, vendors shouting prices way too expensive for what apples were worth, the smell of roasted chestnuts in the air was maybe the only thing you found easy today. Right now, you’re distracted by a stand of handmade rings while Gojo had taken a few steps away just to answer his phone that didn't stop ringing from Yaga. He was half way through it when he noticed someone hovering behind you, leaning too close, trying to peek over your shoulder like they have a right to your space. He first watches, but as you attempted to get the man away and that asshole kept pressing, Gojo muttered some excuse to end the call.
He doesn’t call attention to it, Gojo knows that you both hate someone too close and big humiliating scenes, so he just slides in like it’s instinct, body angled behind yours, hand resting at the small of your back. The strange man near you looked up, clearly not expecting he albino to suddenly be there. Gojo's thumb draws little circles, grounding you and warning the stranger all at once.
“Hey, check this one out,” he says softly, holding up a ring to your hand as if he’s sizing it. But he’s not really focused on the jewelry his eyes track the person behind you without ever turning his head.
"oh this one is pretty" you said thanking jojo mentally to have appeared again. and when the stranger tries again to edge closer, his arm wraps gently around your waist, pulling you just a bit closer. Suddenly, there’s no room for anyone else to slip in. Gojo clicks his tongue, his blue eyes glaring at the way too close man
"Do we have a problem?" he asked the man who cleared his throat, and before he could speak, Gojo added “Sorry,” his tone was polite but unmistakably firm, “But I will request you to step aside, unless you looking for trouble”
You feel the shift, the warmth of Gojo's body, the wall he becomes without being rough. Once the man nodded, understanding he couldn't get whatever he wanted for you, he stepped away into the crowd
"Thanks" you murmured, looking up at him and he kissed the side of your head.
“Tell me next time so I don’t have to guess, okay? I’ll handle it.”
But the truth is, he already did.
🍄 Sukuna When You Panic in Public
It started with something tiny really, maybe a loud laugh echoing wrong, or too many bodies moving at once and you had been so sensitive lately, that you felt your sensory self in full fire. Suddenly the mall where you had taken Sukuna to buy Christmas gifts feels like it’s closing in, noise blurring, breath too short. Your vision tunnels.
"Ryomen" you tried to call, your voice failing
Sukuna was quick to see your hands shake before you even spoke anything to him. Without hesitation, he steps in front of you, back to the crowd, using his huge form to stay in front to you and block your vision from anything that wasn't him. His arms bracket you, not trapping, just protecting.
The world becomes a cocoon made of him and you let out a big breath you were holding, eyes closed as you tried not to break.
“Hey, hey. Look at me, brat. Breathe with me.” His voice is like a lifeline. He takes your hands, places one against his chest where you can feel his heart beat. and you felt your lip tremble
"Ryomen--"
“Feel that?" he says cutting you off, knowing what you were going to say and he wasn't going to let you spiral. not on his watch. "That’s where you are. Right here. With me.”
"I can't breathe" You said shakily, and he pulled you closer
"Breathe with me brat... in.." he took a deep breath, watching you mimic him "-- and out" he spoke, and you could feel his breathe on you, which helped focusing.
Inhaling. Exhaling. Sukuna matched you and you matched him. And for once he wasn't rushing you. Doesn’t care that people are staring, and his back were hiding you from the world anyways.
Whenever sukuna felt like anyone was coming too close, he would turn his head slightly, a warning in his red ruby eyes, a boundary drawn without words. And have you seen him? no one would dare crossing his path.
When your heartbeat started to slow down, he kissed your forehead, sighing against your skin
“That was brave."
"I just had a panic attack. there's nothing brave about it" You said wanting to correct him but he gave you a look, that mean yet protective look
"I don't care. I’m proud of you.”
You looked up at him, cold sweat still plastered on your skin "Thank you.."
“What do you need? Just tell me brat.”
And he means it. Because for you nothing is too much, and nothing will ever be enough.
🌹 Geto During Storm Anxiety
You and Geto had opted for a movie night, rolled up in fluffy blankets and soft kisses when the first crack of thunder hits like a punch. The storm rolls in fast lightning turning your shared apartment white for a split second. You felt your heart racing, and if there was one thing you couldn't deal with was thunder. You hated it. hell, you were so scared of it and you could feel tears gathering in your eyes.
Before you can spiral into a full tweaking mood, Geto's already moving, standing up from the shared couch which for a moment you hated that he was parting from you. He closed the blinds, leaving just the warm glow of a floor lamp. Get sighed, turning back to you bringing the other blanket over the single seat sofa, draping it around your shoulders like an armor. He sits beside you on the couch, legs touching, a steady anchor knowing that physical contact was what you needed
This wasn't the first thunderstorm experience
“Hey, come here" Geto says it like there’s no other place you belong. And in a way he was right. You quickly so as he says, pressing yourself against him
"I didn't know it was going to storm.."
"I didn't know either" He said, and seconds after, the thunder rumbles again. Instinctively, you flinch almost jumping out of the couch but Geto was quicker. He pulled you in closer, one strong hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing beneath your eyes to keep you focused on him
“Look at me"
"Suguru" you tried, eyes filled with tears
"No.. Just me. Just focus on me.. and breathe with me”
This was standard procedure. He guided your breathing with his own, one hand on your back rubbing small slow circles, matching the rise and fall of your chest. The world shrinks to a bubble of warmth and the smell of his hoodie that you were wearing, and tho you could still hear the thunder raging outside, his voice was also helping you anchoring.
“You don’t have to be brave right now,” he whispers. “Just hold onto me.”
"I am scared"
"I know.. do you want me to fetch your headphones? we can go and cuddle on the bed. Does that sound good to you?"
You nodded and you were thankful that he knew exactly what to do in these situations. And the storm that stays outside doesn't seem so scary when you are protected by him.
🍒 Nanami The Silent Check-In
Nanami isnt the type of man to get easily pissed.
Not until it was about you.
The coworker you’ve talked about, the one who “doesn’t understand boundaries” was currently cornering you by the punch table at a work event that Nanami had came to pick you up. your boyfriend sees it happen. The way that coworker, Naoya he believes, disgustingly looks at you, pushed his face close to you, touches your shoulder. Nanami's can feel his posture change, his shoulders square, his jaw setting on the other man, eyes like he’s calculating what will help you feel safest.
Because fuck, he knows you hate big scenes and Nanami isn't the type to get violent, tho beating this shit to a pulp was what he wanted to do right now.
He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t storm over you. He positions himself a few feet away, close enough to be a safety net, far enough not to embarrass you or break your autonomy. He pretends to scroll his phone but his gaze flicks up every few seconds as he watched you fake smile at Naoya and push him away with the delicacy you can master.
Nanami truly wanted to intervene but he didn't trust himself not to cause at scene and this was your work space. He couldn't do that to you.
As soon as the conversation ends, and Naoya leaves with a bored look and a scoff, he’s by your side. You looked up as Nanami hands you a drink you didn’t even ask for, your favorite one.
“You okay?” he asked
“Yeah… I think so.”
“If you weren’t, you know I’d step in, right?" He said looking down at you and you sighed "I just want to follow your lead. this is your work space I dint want to cause a scene”
"I know" You said with a soft tone, taking a sip of your drink.
Nanami watches your body language how your shoulders were tense, how your hands held the cup a little too tight, how your eyes avoided him. He reads you better than the coworker ever has and anyone really. When you sigh, releasing tension, he shifts to stand behind you, fingers brushing your back.
“Next time, I can run interference."
"And what you will hit him?"
"If necessary"
"he is an ass but he isn't that bad" you said trying to make this lighter
"just say the words and I will do what you need” Nanami reassured, kissing the top of your head.
He’s not protecting you from independence he’s protecting your right to it. and if that naoya ever tries to be funny, he would make sure to give him a proper warning
🍷 Toji When You’re Sick
You wake up feeling like total shit. Not only your throat was dry and sore, your nose was runny and a fever had decided to join the party and of course, you couldn't even sit up without dizziness. Toji was snoring like a bear by your side but your constant coughing had him awaken with a pout, faster than he had wished. Tho, despite his grumpy self, he had noticed immediately your health state. the way you blink slow, the heat in your cheeks, the strain in your voice.
“Lie back. I’ve got it.” He said with a low voice and you pout
"I am--"
"Stop talking and do what I say woman"
He gathers supplies like a mission: thermometer, electrolytes, medicine lined up on the dresser like little soldiers. You always had those at hand since Megumi easily got sick from school and Toji had the tendency to know where you put everything. He came back to the room soon enough and then he tucks the blankets under your chin, and it feels like being wrapped in safety itself.
"Toji--"
"Shut up"
He first checks the temperature twice to be sure and well, you truly was with a high fever by the scoff he gave you. His fat ass sat on the bed as he read the medication labels aloud, confirming dosages.
“I looked this up. But I’ll double-check before you take it — I don’t want to mess up.”
"I trained you well" you said with a smirk and he clicked his tongue in warning.
His care is meticulous tho, and not performative despite the awful things you heard people say about him. Toji made sure to place a cold cloth on your forehead like he saw people do on movies. Made you soup-- well attempted to, gave you your medicine and stayed by your side talking to you and reading you stupid books just so you could relax.
And eventually you drift off. He stays by your side without a word. The world blurs due to the fever but every time you surface, he’s there reading, scrolling quietly through his phone, watching you like a lighthouse in the dark.
And when you finally wake for real, he smiles with relief you can feel.
“There you are. I missed you.”
🩸Choro Jealousy, but Soft
It happens at a friend’s birthday party. Shoko to be more precise, and you had insisted that Choso came with you, and even more you insisted in wearing that short dress you own that made your boyfriend shift nervously throughout the night.
But what he thought being a quiet night, soon become a test to his patience. 5 minutes alone, and someone is leaning just a little too close when they talk to you, they compliment you a little too sweet, their eyes lingering longer than polite.
Your boyfriend sees it.
Oh Choso boils.
You can almost feel his gaze from across the room as he is sipping on his beer, his rings pressed on the cold glass. a subtle heat, a quiet storm gathering on the back of your skull. Choso doesn’t stomp over or make a scene. Instead, he approaches with quiet confidence, sliding an arm around your waist, fingers brushing your side as if saying I’m here, I’ve got you. You loved his quiet protectiveness and jealousy
“Hey, baby,” he says, voice warm just for you but edged with something sharper for the other person who is now watching confused. “Missed you.”
"Missed you too" you said smiling and he is leaning down to plant a kiss on your lips
When the other guy tries to keep talking to you, Choso shots him a polite glare, which you didn't even know existed. But there’s a shift too. His thumb traces your hip, staking his claim in a way that’s respectful to you.
"Want something?" Choso asked
"I was just asking y/n if -"
“She's not interested” he says offering a tight smile, tone steady as a heartbeat. “We were just about to head outside to get some air, wasn’t that right, love?” He said, emphasizing the “we” like a promise.
"hmhmm!" you agreed amused by the whole thing. you both walk away together, but then he is pouting like a kid as he looked down at you "what?" you asked trying not to laugh
“I’m not mad. I just… don’t like seeing someone try to make you uncomfortable. "
I'd give you everything, I just want to see you win ⸻ clan head Gojo
chapter summary ⸻ Gojo Satoru is absolutely going through it. His head and his heart are not quite working in his favor, while his wife is having a hard time not understanding certain feelings of her own.
pairing ⸻ post Shinjuku clan leader Gojo x non-sorcerer reader
chapter warnings ⸻ canon divergence, MDNI, clan and jujutsu world politics, arranged marriage, husband Gojo, slow burn, yearning, fem-oriented reader, use of she/her pronouns, emotionally constipated Gojo, heavy tension, mild progress in their relationship, and they are both bad at feelings.
a/n: art in the header by @/RUEheree on twt. you can also find this series on AO3. make sure to also check out the playlist. Progress! also sorry about being so late.
word count: 4.1k
SERIES MASTERLIST ‖ <<PREVIOUS CHAPTER . NEXT CHAPTER>>soon!
During the first few days after Gojo Satoru got married, he did not go outside the estate. Even when you two were not on the best speaking terms, even when you were not talking to him, he still did not want to leave you alone at the estate. Why? He cannot really answer that, not because he doesn't want to, but because he doesn't know how to answer that question.
The first day after getting married, he saw his colleagues and friends; you two were still sort of not speaking. Yet still, that morning, when he was getting ready and putting on his shirt, you came up to him, fixed his collar, and handed him his blindfold. In return, all he said was a simple thank you, and you nodded slightly and walked out of the room.
It was an innocent and simple interaction.
And yet Gojo Satoru had this huge grin on his face the entire day. Not his usual one, which is why his friends were quick to notice that smile.
“Why are you smiling like a pervert?” Suguru had grimaced and questioned him. Shoko and Nanami just quietly peered in without joining the conversation; they knew better.
“I am just smiling!? What's the big deal?” Satoru had tried to defend himself, but it did not help his case that even then his smile remained on his face and his cheeks just got more rosy.
“Ahhh, your wife finally looked your way?” Suguru had smirked and leaned back in his seat; he could see the little panicky movements of Satoru's eyes, and when Satoru did not answer him, the teasing just got worse. And it persisted through the entire day.
And yet, Satoru's smile remained intact on his face.
Since Satoru got you the camellia plant, it was nice to finally be on good terms with you.
It has been peaceful breakfasts and routine afternoon calls about dinner; on lucky days when he is not nagged to get off his phone by his colleagues, he gets to ask you about your day and plans. He gets to frequently accompany you to the greenhouses, only to watch you take care of the plants there and to have tea with you. After dinner, he gets to sit under the now naked cherry blossom tree with you, on the same bench, where you stare at the lake, and he just stares at you. He even goes on walks with you and takes you to parts of the garden he finds the most beautiful. And since he gave you a full tour of the estate, especially that coveted library you were the most fascinated to discover, it has become his routine to go find you cooped up in there at the end of the day. Because Gojo Satoru has developed a habit—no, a need—to see his wife’s face as desperately as he needs to satiate his mochi cravings. Both of which are concerning in terms of the degree of intensity, but to say the least, things have been good.
Yet, he just always finds himself wanting a little more.
Gojo Satoru never took himself for a greedy man. In fact, any person with keen observation skills would be able to say he is self-sacrificial to a fault. So, these days, as a happily married man, when Gojo Satoru finds his eyes lingering on his wife a little too often and a little too long, when his mind starts racing with things he cannot really say, and his chest gets heavy with unfathomable and unknown amounts of affection for her—he finds himself in a bind.
And this has been a source of constant agony for him. This sense of longing that has started to seep into him is starting to haze up his better judgment. And despite initially just needing a wife just to hold the title of Mrs. Gojo to make things easier for him, his needs are starting to warp.
Knock knock.
The unanticipated knocks at his office door made him sit up in his seat. Assuming Ichiji was here to yet again pester him about some clan stuff or some school stuff he needed to sign off on, but when the door did not fully open to reveal Ichiji, his eyebrows furrowed at the slight opening of the door. And just as he was about to reprimand Ichiji for wasting his time, instead the door opened fully to reveal the source of his agonizing and confusing thought, the person who's had his chest feeling heavy with something other than grief and burden for once in his life.
You sheepishly showed up behind his office door. “I'm not disturbing you, right?”
Satoru sat up in his chair a little frazzled and taken aback by your sudden arrival. And without noticing it himself, he pulled his blindfold over his head as you stood smiling in his doorway. “You can never disturb me, what!? In fact, you are saving me from all of this boring paperwork.”
It is not that you never come to his office. It is usually that you are either accompanied by Mia or Suki, so it was a sudden and pleasant surprise to see you all by yourself standing in his office. You giggled at his little ramble and walked in, while Satoru quickly gathered all the sprawled and scattered papers on his desk. When you ended up beside his chair, just an arm's length away from his reach, he could have just as easily put up his arms, and you would have been in his grasp.
So close. So, so close.
“Can I take you away from all of this for a bit?” Your eyes flickered around his office, feeling a little out of place all of a sudden. And Satoru could immediately notice that.
“Of course! I am all yours.” He finally stretched his arms out and pulled you towards where he was sitting. “You can do whatever you please, whenever you please...” His hands grasped yours. Though you made no effort to move them, your fingers tangled with his, and something akin to electricity ran from his arms down his spine, something he has never felt, given Gojo Satoru is not familiar with physical touch. Which makes this more concerning.
Sure, he flashed his signature, flirty smile at you. But without his blindfold, his eyes were bare and vulnerable. So he could not dare to look you in the eye even when his hands pulled you in closer. Something about the weight of the words that effortlessly left his mouth, the silence in the office, and the embarrassment that clearly crept up to your face—it was making the air in the office heavier and heavier.
“That is—” He started, and you also spoke simultaneously, “What I meant—” Both of your words stumbled on each other and left an awkward pause hanging.
“You go first!” “You go first—” Comically, the both of you spoke the same thing, trying to seem polite towards the other and just get rid of the anchor-heavy air around you two.
You mustered up the courage; seeing Gojo slowly become pink, you spoke out. “I—I wanted to ask you if you want to accompany me to the library. You have been in here since the morning and I thought…” You trailed off, trying to gauge his reaction.
“I mean, of course you are free to decline! I would not want to disturb you and we just had lunch so—”
“I would love to.” He said, sounding confident in his decision.
While on the way to the library, which Satoru himself had introduced you to, he felt nervous. He remembers vividly how you looked when he first showed you the place. Your face morphed from awe to absolute ecstasy in mere seconds. He also remembers how you eagerly asked him if you could borrow books from here, to which all he said was, “This is also your property; do as you please.”
It was the very first time you did not interject the thought of being equal to him.
“I know I asked you to accompany me to get you out of your office, but I also needed a favor.” You said sheepishly as you both entered the library. Satoru tilted his head slightly while aimlessly following behind you.
“Hmm? What is it?” He said, sounding curious and having no hesitation to genuinely fulfill any request of yours to the best of his abilities.
“Um, the stool that's usually in here, I use it quite frequently.” You pause before continuing to reveal your request. “It's not here. It's usually here! And I swear I looked everywhere! But it's not here…so…”
Even though it was obvious what you wanted to ask him, you looked obviously hesitant to ask. The grin that found its way to his mouth indicated that even the clanhead knew what favor you wanted to ask of him.
“So…?”
“so…”
“Mmhmm, I'm listening.” Though it sounded like Satoru was mocking you, the suggestion of a question in his tone and the grin on his face said otherwise.
He was simply teasing you. It wasn't that he was being condescending, annoyed, or belittling you—he just wanted you to properly ask him for this very obvious favor that you wanted from your husband.
“Can you, uh—help me out then?” This is not fair by any means. Why is it that Gojo Satoru is the one basically teasing you, and yet he is the one getting shy over how sweet your voice sounds asking for his help?
Call him perverted, deprived, or smitten—he knows that if it was anyone else in your place, he would not even bother with the time of his day to spare them a glance. And yet here he is following behind his wife like a puppy on a leash, ready to do any trick for whatever treat you may throw his way.
“How would you like me to help you?” The frustration on your face was more amusing than any paperwork he was wasting his afternoon on.
“If you can, can you take out a few books off the high shelves for me?” Your voice got lower with each word, and Satoru could barely hold back the smile he was holding back, for your sake, really. He has embarrassed you enough for his own fun, really.
“So you want me to become your personal book picker?” He leaned forward towards you, almost inches apart.
“Do you answer every question with more questions?” Usually you lean backwards when he does something like this, but this time you did not back away. He definitely took a note of that.
“Just yours.” A scoffing laugh left him as he said that, and his eyes softened more than usual.
“Are you going to help me or just keep teasing me?” You also took a note of that.
“Anything for you!” he said as he started walking towards one of the shelves by the wall behind you. “Alrighty! Which books do you need me to get for you?” He clapped his hands together and turned around to look at you after asking you the question.
“Oh, actually, I need you to get one of the books from the shelf on the left wall on the topmost shelf.” You pointed at the particular book in a brown leather binding, like many on the shelf, where you mentioned its whereabouts.
“and then I need you to get me that green book with golden borders on the shelf opposite to that on the leftmost second shelf and then—”
“Okay, I'll get it one at a time. Please, I might just be a lowly book picker, but I'm still human.” Satoru chuckled as he walked towards the first shelf you mentioned. And with ease, he barely lifted his arm up to reach the book, as the sleeves of his yukata gathered and fell down to his shoulder, while he took out the book from the topmost shelf.
You couldn't figure out whether the time was just moving slowly or whether it was just his muscles flexing from lifting it upwards to just grab a book. In the few minutes that he grabbed the book, lowered down his arm, and then stretched it towards you to give you the book that you wanted—it felt like an hour had passed by.
Who knew Gojo Satoru was that toned under all those layers of robes, shirts, and jackets he usually wears? Well, you already knew that, and whenever you are reminded of that fact about your husband, something in your head goes haywire. It was bad enough with just his pretty face, gorgeous blue eyes, sweet words, and fluttering bangs that get caught in the brazen chill wind of the night when you two go out for a walk.
This very physical and very muscular part of him always made things worse.
Somehow it feels as though this started from this one event that has started to occur daily in front of your eyes. It is how every morning his hair clings to his forehead when he comes out of the bathroom freshly showered. His skin looks radiant, and even all the smallest scars on his body look vividly clear to your eyes, which makes that one specifically big scar stretching over his torso, which hurts to even look at, seem glorious. With a cloud of dreamy steam radiating off of him, either from the hot water he uses every morning to shower or just the sheer mystique of his existence, nothing or no one can compare to his magnificence.
Every morning you witness that scene right after waking up, like a slap to your face for a wake-up call. And every morning you rustle under the sheets of your shared bed trying to not ogle him like a piece of meat. All he does is offer you the most innocent smile while drying off his hair and walking towards the closet and a ‘good morning’ in an almost bored or relaxed voice. Which one is it? That you have not figured out yet.
You clutched onto the brown leather-bound book close to your chest as you looked at your husband working around the library and getting you all the books that you asked him to grab for you.
“Last one!” Satoru cheered and grabbed a book with a black cover, covered in more dust than the other books.
And in a few moments you had a stack of books on the study table by the large windows where you usually spend your afternoons after you are done with your chores and duties.
“Last one.” You smiled and grabbed the book as he handed it to you. During the exchange, your hand brushes against his fingertips, and they feel cold to the touch.
It wasn't the usual kind of cold that you have felt on him when you have brushed against him accidentally and his skin grazed yours; it was a different kind of chill. It felt more alive, more of his skin, than the barrier that he usually puts up between himself and the rest of the world.
And it came down as an epiphany to you that lately this is just how he felt.
There have been many instances where his skin has touched yours; you two share a home, share a name, and share a bed for god's sake, so it comes with the experience of being Mrs. Gojo. And it has been so normal, simply nothing remarkable enough to remember; it was habitual and available enough that you usually forget in a matter of a few minutes what those simple touches feel like.
It means all those times that you passed him the glass of water, or handed him his blindfold, or accidentally brushed against his shoulders in your sleep—what you felt was all him. It has always been the same sort of coolness on the surface of his skin that you momentarily just felt right now, all along. And it never meant anything; it shouldn't have, and it shouldn't matter now either, and yet it does.
It does, because you still see a glimpse of pain and fear in his eyes when he looks at you, not like you are some undefeatable monster; that is not something the strongest would fret over, it is something deeper, something inexplicable and something he could not properly explain to you. So, you dropped it.
He has shown great effort by stretching out a hand of kindness and generosity towards you, things you've never really felt in the company of your own family. He has given it all to you, so it was easy to let him have this one unanswered question. You made yourself forget everything about that night at the lake, because what mattered more were these little moments like this. Moments where he sits beside you on the floor and cluelessly stares at you as you look through all the books to check if they are the correct ones you wanted to pick out.
“All good?”
Satoru’s question brought you out of your daze, and instead of the slow movements of your fingers, flipping open each book with dull movements, they scrambled to open the last book for inspection. Your fingers picked up a haphazard pace to quickly end your inspection and give him an answer. But the guilt of letting unnecessary thoughts wander into your mind and careless movements of your fingers resulted in the index finger of your right hand bleeding from a papercut.
It wasn't a lot of blood, but it still amused me, as it always does, how something like paper can draw blood so easily while being so susceptible to fatality by just some water. How a book that has been unopened for years, with its obviously intact spine and pristine edges on each page, can be so vengeful.
“Fuck! Let me see that!” As soon as a few droplets of blood gathered on your finger, Satoru’s hands, as if automatically in a panic, reached for yours.
You sat beside him on the floor, with no sense of emergency but this sense of stupor about being surrounded by a pile of books wanting to be read and one vengeful book among them with the tiniest amount of your blood on its page. While Satoru pulled your hand closer to his face to inspect it meticulously.
Next, what happened left you stunned, to say the least. As your husband leaned down and took your bleeding finger in his mouth. His lips felt warm, contrary to the tips of his fingers that brushed you earlier. He lightly sucked on the finger, and as his tongue came to lick away any trace of blood, a soft gasp left your mouth involuntarily. Satoru’s eyes instantly darted up towards your face, and as his eyes landed on yours, time truly felt like it slowed down again.
There is no explanation as to why you keep feeling such a shift in the metaphysical concept of time and reality. The way his breath fell on your lips, the way his hands held yours with such care, and his eyes fluttered softly as if in utter awe of your mere existence—it almost felt like the most natural thing in this world to be this close to this man. The proximity, in fact, felt too big; the gap was too large, and perhaps Satoru felt it too, as he started to slowly and hesitantly inch towards your lips. His eyes darted leisurely between your lips and your eyes; you felt the pull just as strongly.
In the soundless, serene silence of the library, all that could be heard were the heavy breaths of Lord and Lady Gojo.
It was inconsistent and erratic at times, his pace did not quite match yours, and yet you both felt the heavy stifling tension between you two that has been growing and growing like wild grass. And it felt delicate as such too. Fragile to the point it might just break with one wrong stroke of wind, yet neither of you wanted to stop decreasing the gap that lay between you.
“I am so sorry, ma’am. I forgot to put the stool back in its place after cleaning yesterday and—”
A staff member of the estate with the stool you usually use in the library in his hands stopped dead in his tracks just as fast as he barged into the room while rambling in a hurry.
You had leaned away just as soon as you heard the door open, forced to be pulled harshly out of the little moment you got laced into with your husband. But Satoru stayed where he was, inches away from your lips, but not anymore. Your hand was still softly in his grasp, and his face was turned towards yours. Sitting on the floor in the middle of the library surrounded by a pile of books, he did not look as though he snapped out of it as fast as you did.
“Oh—pardon me for interrupting you two. I—" The panic in the man’s voice was clear; he knew as he walked into this room, he should not be here.
“No no, we were—we were just discussing something! Tell him something!” Now you were panicking, thinking how the man and eventually the rest of the staff might start looking at you differently once the word of this gets out. When all you did was that you were just sitting close to your lawfully wedded husband.
“If you are done here, you can leave.” Satoru’s voice sounded irritated and dry. The kind of voice you have only ever heard him use with others, specifically certain members of the clan.
“Yes! Yes, Gojo-sama!”
After you two watched the poor man scramble away from the wrath of Gojo Satoru, who has been interrupted during his quality time with his wife. Because it was now a common consensus between the staff at the estate that they should never interrupt their master and ma’am when they are together. The silent agreement was drawn since last time a staff interrupted you two to ask you for more tea, and after that you never finished your little ramble about how Chef Suzuki taught you how to make a new dish. That lady was given the stink eye by Gojo-sama for the rest of the day and later put on laundry duty—something no one ever wanted to do.
“Come on, I’ll get Mia or Suki to clean up your cut properly.” Satoru stood up and stretched his arm towards you to grab onto his hand; his face looked flat, but anyone could feel the disappointment oozing off of him. Anyone but you.
“Oh, it fi—”
“If you say it’s fine, I will bandage it up myself, and just so you know, it will not look pretty.”
His mouth stretched into a lazy, teasing smile, but something told you it was definitely not a joke. And if he is going to get you bandaged for a paper cut, you would rather not have it looking like a mess.
“Only because you’re making me do this.” You rolled your eyes and grabbed onto his hand to be effortlessly pulled off the floor without having to use even a tiny bit of strength.
“Well, thank you very much for doing this.” Satoru nodded his head with mocking gratitude.
“Shut upppp.” You giggled as you shoved your shoulder into his arm as you two walked towards the door together, and he broke into a chuckle with you.
Somehow, with Satoru’s help, the initial awkwardness you thought would be weighing on you two was not there. But thinking about why that would have happened made you feel warm all over. It was a little dizzying, whatever it was that you felt back there, that kind of tension that you have never felt before. And even though a part of you wanted to explore all of it, the rest of you could not even let you acknowledge the feelings that stirred up within you. And all you could think of was this one question over and over in your head. And even if you subconsciously knew the answer to that question, you could not help yourself from just thinking about it mindlessly as if it were unanswerable.
What was that?
NEXT CHAPTER>>soon!
TO FIND MORE OF MY WORKS CLICK HERE.
a/n: divider by @/omi-resources. header is from watashitachi wa douka shiteiru drama. art in the header by @/RUEheree on twt.
lol i hope it makes sense. like ik yes they feel all that and yet they are like what is this lol wtf? You can say satoru is faster than his wife at accepting his feelings. but i would not say her feelings are as deep as his currently.
-`♡´- The Letter Your Future Spouse Wants You To Read -`♡´-
-> without a secret, I am back with this little romantic reading, that I hope you guys enjoy <3. This reading was done both through tarot and intuitive writing. May this winter bring you warmth ♡
-> through the reading I used the cards and this intuitive writing to describe some dynamics and also for some how you will meet them and how it will feel.
-> For personal readings : Yongie's Shop
-> Take a moment to breath and pick a image from the pile to discover what your soul needs to be loved as:
♡ Pile One
“My love,
Before you ever meet me, I want you to know this: I see you clearly, not the version you show the world, the one you have grow to built our of fear but the one that hides behind your pain and caution. I know how much you’ve fought to stay balanced, how you’ve carried fairness and integrity like an armor. But with me, you won’t need armor.
Our connection will feel like the calm after a long storm that's what I can promise you. It won't be dramatic, not forced, just right. Justice is the truth between us, we’ll meet at the exact time we’re meant to, when both our hearts are ready to love cleanly, without pretending.
When I enter your life, it will be like a new tide, gentle, refreshing, the first cup of real love that fills without taking, that is what you will feel when we meet. You’ll feel safe letting go by my side. The walls you’ve built to survive will slowly dissolve, and I’ll stand there, steady, patient, knowing what it costs you to trust again. To trust me.
There’s something sacred guiding us, I believe either your spiritual guides or mine, but all I know is that there's this quiet guardians that keep us walking toward each other even when we doubt. Our love won’t be chaotic, I truly promise that. Love, it will be peaceful, honest, and blessed.
So don’t worry about when or how. Just keep living your truth, and keep your heart open, even if it trembles because I will eventually arrive. I’ll recognize that light in you, the one that still believes in fairness, in love that feels like home. I will come home to you.
Yours, with all the calm and devotion you deserve,
Your future love”
ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.
♡ Pile Two
“Hey you,
I know we won’t start off easy, God we both ain't easy people you know. When we meet, sparks might fly in every direction, not all of them will be gentle I have got to be honest. We’ll challenge each other, test each other, push and pull like fire meeting wind. That’s how we’ll recognize what’s real. It won’t be perfect, but it will be alive.
From the very beginning, you’ll light something in me that refuses to go out. I can't explain why but that’s what you are to me, a stubborn fire that refuses to extinguish no matter how hard I try. The moment I saw you, everything woke up again. You’ll remind me what it feels like to want, to reach, to believe there’s more.
But I need you to know something: I’m coming to you carrying scars. This part of my story, our story to be exact. I’ve known heartbreak, and sometimes I still flinch when something feels too good. I think you are a little the same, aren't you sweetheart? I’ll try to protect myself at first, but you and your warmth, your courage.. God, will help me open again.
Together we’ll take a leap of faith on whatever these feelings are that’s between us. Not because we’re careless, but because we’ll both decide that love, even with the risk, is worth it. We’ll start from zero, build something new, not perfect, not polished, but ours.
So when you see me and everything feels messy, don’t mistake it for chaos, please don't try to push me away. It’s just two wild hearts learning how to dance without fear.
Yours,
The one who’ll fight for you, and with you, until we find our rhythm.”
ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.
♡ Pile Three
“My dearest,
Before we find each other, there’s a stretch of time where both of us walk alone. Yeah, I know.. we won't meet until some time and it can be a little annoying, but it is what it is. But when you’ll see me, I will be that quiet, learning person who's trying to listen to myself. I won’t rush toward love, so you don't have to worry, I’ll be trying to understand what I truly need so that when I do reach for you, it’s with purpose.
You’ll be in your own chapter of independence by the time we both cross path, you will be learning how to stand steady on your own. I’ll admire that about you. Truly. You won’t need saving, and that’s what will draw me in.
Still, I’ll admit: sometimes I’ll hesitate when it comes to you and our love. My courage will flicker, and I’ll worry that I’m not ready or that I could lose what little balance I’ve built to make you happy. There will be moments when both of us feel that ache and that kind of loneliness that makes the world feel colder than it is. I am sorry, if sometimes, I won't be the person you wish you had. I am sorry if sometimes I won't be good enough.
But that emptiness is what prepares and stick us together. It makes us reach out for on another, not in desperation, but in recognition that we can't be without each other. When I finally meet you, I’ll know: this isn’t someone to fill a void, this, you, are someone to share the quiet with.
Our beginning won’t be loud. It will feel like peace after wandering too long.
With quiet certainty,
Your future love”
ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.
♡ Pile Four
“My beloved,
I’ve spent a long time leading with logic in this life, I have been thinking, planning, analyzing everything before I let myself feel anything at all. That’s the king of swords in me to be honest, I am a sharp minded and steady control person. But when it comes to you, that balance slips. You’ll cut right through my composure.
At first, I may hold back around you as I will be afraid to start something that I can’t predict or control. I’ll worry about timing, about whether I can give you enough, about what it might cost to open up to you, if there's risk of you leaving me. But the moment I see you, all that hesitation will break.
Maybe by then, I will stop being the king of swords to become the knight of swords so I can take over what is happening between us. I’ll want to move fast with you, I will probably say too much, and I might chase the spark that hits before I can stop it. I am sorry for that, I can be a little intense. But you’ll disarm me, and I won’t even mind.
And then something softer will happen between us. I’ll stop fighting it, whatever feelings I have for you that can stop growing. I’ll lower my guard and let you in not my life, with no strategy, no defense, just honesty. I will be just me, raw in front of you.
You’ll teach me that love doesn’t have to be a battle of wills. Sometimes it’s surrender, not through weakness, but through trust.
Always,
The one who’ll finally let their heart speak first”
ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.
♡ Pile Five
“Hey sweet soul,
There’s a part of me you’ll meet before I’ve completely learned how to steady my heart and I hate myself for it. I’ve spent years keeping my feelings contained, trying to look composed when I was really overwhelmed. it's just there's so much buried inside of me. I am someone who feels deeply but doesn’t always know how to say it the right way.
When you come into my life, I’ll start facing myself. The lies I told just to keep the peace, the truths I hid to stay in control of this pathetic life I own. Thanks to you, I’ll be done with that . With you, I’ll want to be honest, even when it’s messy because I know that in your arms, I will safe. You will understand me.
Still, I might hesitate at first but that isn't because I don't love you but because I am shit scared of fucking up things. That’s my fear of not being ready, of missing my moment because I doubt myself. But even in that uncertainty, your presence will stir something in me that refuses to stay asleep.
But I know that with you by my side, I will reach my turning point. After all the silence, I’ll finally move with you toward happiness. I’ll reach out to you, speak and tell you how much I love you, show up for you. You’ll be the reason I wake from the quiet and choose connection over isolation.
So if I seem distant when we meet, don’t mistake it for indifference. I’m just learning how to let my emotions breathe again. You’ll see, once I do realize my feelings for you, it’ll all pour out, and it’ll be real.
Yours,
The one who’s learning how to feel without fear”
ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ᥫ᭡.
♡ Pile Six
“To the one I haven’t met yet,
When you meet me, I’ll still be learning how to let go of someone or something. I’ve held on tightly to what felt safe, you know, my routines, my walls, the life I built to avoid being hurt again by the people I love. That’s who I am, a person who's careful, protective, afraid to lose control.
But you’ll see through it aren't you? You are too smart. You’ll see the quiet courage behind my restraint. You won’t need to push me into becoming better, your patience will be enough. I’ll find my bravery in the way you look at me, in the way you make openness feel like safety, not risk. The way you will hold my hand and kiss me.
To be honest, our story will be all about a long slow healing of hearts. You’ll be the calm water after the storm, the reason I finally decide to move on from old pain. I will be the boat that saves you from drowning in the depth of the sea. We’ll build something peaceful, not rushed, not loud just something honest.
Still, I know we both won’t come together perfectly at first and that's okay. Timing may be off, distance may get in the way, or we’ll have to rebuild what ‘home’ means for us. But even if it takes longer, even if the path isn’t smooth, I’ll be there.
Because for the first time, I won’t be holding on out of fear. I’ll be holding on because you’re worth it.
♥︎ What Will Your Next Partner Most Desire About You ♥︎
-> Yes, autumn and rain makes me want to constantly use my cards and be connected with the other realm so we have one more general reading!
-> for this reason, it contains some mild nsfw (so please be aware) but I tried to focus on more soul and personality things that makes you desirable. You can read it also if you are in a relationship and have a partner!
-> Everything is written in a gender neutral way.
-> For personal readings : Yongie's Shop
-> Take a moment to breath and pick a image from the pile to discover what your soul needs to be loved as:
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
♥︎ Pile One
Look in your eyes would echo in mine and go back
Welcome to your reading sweetheart, and well let me tell you, you have such a generous next partner coming into your life, one who will love to give as much as they receive. Your next partner will be drawn to the way you love, they will feel like you give with genuine warmth, you know how to nurture without losing yourself. They’ll desire your sense of equality in connection, emotionally, energetically, and physically and god they find you so incredibly attractive. There’s also something earthy and sensual here, you make people feel seen and valued, which awakens their desire to give back to you. They’ll crave your kindness as much as your touch. I can see how they will melt each time your hands are over their naked body.
Dark desire and tainted bliss, it's like you're dangerous to me
This adds a note of confidence and magnetism. Your next partner will desire your self-assured energy, the way that glow comes when you know your worth. You may come across as someone who’s composed, goal-oriented, and quietly powerful, and that success aura is irresistibly sexy to them. It’s not arrogance, it’s the sensual appeal of competence and poise. They’ll want to stand beside you, not above you. In that matter, I also feel like they would love it if you dictate them a little inside the bedroom. Get what you want, use them to get off.
I notice every time we meet, I feel the ground beneath my feet giving way
Now here’s where the intrigue comes in. Your partner will also be fascinated by what they can’t quite figure out about you. You have an emotional or spiritual depth that isn’t easy to decode like a mystery that keeps them curious, hungry to understand more. They’ll find your complexity intoxicating, in the sense that there’s always more beneath the surface. God the way they want to see you fall apart for them. This is the kind of desire born of fascination, you’re not immediately transparent, and that fuels passion. They just want to pleasure you and discover what works for you.
But something in me just can't help but insist
In the spread here, it suggests that what your next partner will desire most is how they see themselves reflected in you. You’ll awaken their self-awareness and stir emotions they’ve buried. Your presence becomes a mirror that shows them both their light and their shadow which is incredibly magnetic and transformative. You’ll touch something deep in them, the parts they recognize but rarely reveal. On a physical and emotional level, this translates into chemistry that feels fated and intimate, as if you both trigger each other’s truth.
food play, mutual masturbation or watching each other during that act, getting you off, multiple orgasms, domination dynamics and plays, sensory play, mirror play, video recording, pictures or polaroids.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
♥︎ Pile Two
Turning on the faucet, drown me in the sheets
Hello my love! well it seems like your next partner is really someone so curious about you and that keeps them hooked. Your next partner will be drawn to your youthful fire energy, like your energy that says “life is an adventure.” They’ll love the way you turn ordinary moments into excitement, how you express yourself boldly, maybe even playfully, especially when you tease them. There’s something very physical about this spread too, it’s the magnetism of movement and expression, like they will get so turned on by your gestures, your laughter, your spontaneity. They’ll crave your zest, the way you make passion feel like discovery.
Sex and Palo Santo in the air
This adds depth and sensuality. Your partner will be attracted to the way you radiate plenty, not just materially, but emotionally and energetically. You give off a feeling of fullness, your joy, your empathy, your creativity all of that can make them desire you and that also makes random people feel enriched just by being near you. They’ll desire your warmth because it feels like sunlight, nourishing and alive. I feel like they would have random moments where they just want to ruin you.
Head down in your garden, flowers in my face
This is pure energy. They’ll feel your frequency, that natural optimism, laughter, and sense of lightness that lifts people. You likely have an aura that makes others want to rise to your level. In attraction terms, this is that “can’t stop smiling around you” kind of chemistry, contagious excitement and positivity. They’ll crave the way you raise the energy in the room, how your presence feels electric. Can you believe that you turn them on by simply smiling at them? That you make them desire you just by laughing?
Found love in the darkness
This ties it all together beautifully. Your next partner will be captivated by your creativity and self-expression, the way you blend colors, emotions, and experiences into something uniquely you. They’ll see you as a muse, an inspiration, someone who makes living itself feel like art. They’ll desire the poetry of you, your style, your rhythm, your ability to turn passion into beauty. They just want to possess you and show you to the world
In nature, standing up sex, breast play, overstimulation, multiple orgasms or multiple rounds, vibrators and other sex toys, exhibitionism, voyeurism, sex tapes, photos or polaroids, shibari are a possibility, body marking.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
♥︎ Pile Three
We were tangled up like branches in a flood
This is the romantic archetype itself, god your next partner is honestly written by women in my head or at least they do give that energy. Your next partner will desire your emotional depth, your sensitivity, and the way you love with poetry in your soul. You have an aura of tenderness, mystery, and charm that makes people want to fall in love with you, not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually. They’ll be drawn to your way of connecting through feelings, imagination, and affection. They’ll crave your softness, the way you make love feel like art, not conquest. This spread also speaks to how you express emotion: through words, gestures, intuition. You make vulnerability beautiful. I feel like they won’t desire to fuck you, but to truly make love to you in every sense of the term.
You've got me in a chokehold
Desire here is tied to intentionality. Your next partner will be deeply attracted to the way you choose your discernment, your devotion, your ability to love with awareness rather than impulse. They find it really sexy. You don’t give your heart to everyone, and that makes it precious. They’ll desire to be chosen by you, it makes them feel seen, special, and trusted. This adds a powerful undercurrent of emotional exclusivity like your love feels sacred because it’s decided, not random. The way they would fall under you if you start praising them.
To bring you home again
This spread also introduces fate, timing, and soul patterns so it’s sure that you and your next partner are meant to be for a long while. Your partner may feel that meeting you was destined, part of a recurring rhythm in their life, like they may feel it's a déjà vu. What they’ll desire most is this sense of eternal connection, that being with you feels both new and ancient at once. They’ll crave the way you make them feel like they’ve known you forever, and yet can’t stop rediscovering you. In my opinion it’s really addictive. It’s like attraction is woven through karmic and soul level recognition. When you both are together, when they are with you intimately, everything feels right.
Even if it hurts me, even if I can't sleep, show me the way
Ah, and this is the dream too, the heart of the spread. They will desire your light, your serenity, your joy like it’s something they need to live. You embody the energy of peace through passion, and they love that it feels like home, like the calm after the storm. To them, you are the paradise, a safe, blissful escape from the noise of the world. They’ll crave your presence because you make love feel like peace, when they kiss you they have no thoughts but you, the kind of peace that only comes after chaos. This is sensual and spiritual, a connection that satisfies body, heart, and soul.
Watching you touch yourself, romantic sex, riding, car sex, praising, softness and kisses, consentual, double penetration, multiple rounds, programmed sex, orgasming together, breeding and creampie play.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
♥︎ Pile Four
Scream like heavy metal, rough love
Welcome to your reading angel! and well isn’t your next partner such a brain, clever person? for some I feel nerdy vibes as well. Your next partner will be intensely drawn to your mind and momentum tho. They’ll find your directness sexy, the way you speak truth, chase what you want, and move with certainty. You’ve got that “storm energy” where you are swift, passionate, unafraid to cut through bullshit. They’ll crave your confidence, the rush of being near someone who acts instead of hesitates. This isn’t gentle attraction, it’s electric, like there’s a lot of sexual passion as well. You turn ideas into motion, and that quicksilver mind keeps them on their toes.
I know your love might not come cheap
Here I can see where your intensity meets their depth. Your partner will desire your authenticity, your ability to burn away falseness and seek the truth beneath everything. There’s something cleansing in your presence. You make people confront their own chaos and want to be better around you. They’ll desire your honesty, how you strip life down to what’s real and meaningful. You’re not just bold, you’re pure in intention, and it makes them want to come out completely naked to you. That blend of fire and clarity is intoxicating, and I feel like he desires to just ruin and kiss you whenever you are in that energy.
So I might just marry you tonight
The way you move? it turns them on so much. Even if you’re not their ideals, that doesn’t change their desire for you one bit. Your next partner will be turned on by your decisiveness, your ambition, your unstoppable energy. They’ll feel that spark when you take charge or lead with purpose. They’ll crave your drive, how passion in you becomes movement, not just emotion and not gonna lie, they might get a little turn on when you try to tell them what to do. You awaken the fighter, the creator, the doer in them.
When I'm alone with you, I'm so obsessed
And this is where the whole spread transcends the purely physical. They’ll be magnetized by your sense of destiny, how it seems like unseen forces work through you. You might inspire them spiritually, intellectually, or emotionally, because your strength doesn’t come from ego, it’s channeled, guided, purposeful. You also have a talent to just look at them and make them want you. They’ll crave hearing your voice in their ear. This makes the connection feel fated, like you’re not just two people colliding, but two souls meant to catalyze each other, like sex is so intimate and good.
guiding you through it, soft dirty talking, praising and/or degradation, rough sex, domination play, quickies, high sexual energy, initiating, water play, squirting, cum play, pure fantasies, corruption, hair pulling, exhibitionism, voyeurism, whips
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
♥︎ Pile Five
Tight ropes and chain reactions
Hi there angel! This spread shows that your next lover has quite the loss, regret, and emotional sensitivity energy in them. Your next partner will be drawn to the depth of feeling you possess, how you don’t shy away from pain, but alchemize it into wisdom scars. They’ll sense that you’ve known heartbreak and still kept your heart open and that’s magnetic. They’ll desire your emotional honesty, the beauty in your vulnerability, the grace in how you’ve healed. You feel things deeply, and that emotional sincerity becomes part of your sensual appeal. The day you say I love you to them, you can bet they will simply melt into your needs and wishes.
You scratch me like it's art
This reinforces that energy beautifully. Your partner will desire your capacity to forgive and to love again, even when it would have been easier to close off. They’ll be moved by your softness of being (and of your skin), the strength that comes from mercy, from understanding that everyone is human. They’ll crave the way your love heals them, through acceptance. Your compassion becomes your most attractive quality, you make love feel safe again. The moment you are dragging your fingers on their skin, they are gone.
Bed sheets left torn apart
Your partner will be irresistibly drawn to the way you truly listen to their words and commands. Not just to words, but their tone, emotion, and silence. Oh you will behave so well. Outside the spicy, you have a calming, grounding presence that makes people feel heard and understood. They’ll desire your presence, how your attention feels like a balm. In intimacy, this translates to being deeply attuned, they’ll feel emotionally met by you, body and soul. And if you are able to follow their direction they will give in to your demands.
Legs wrapped around my head
This is where your magic shines, due to your ability to begin again. You carry the energy of rebirth after pain, and that makes your love feel pure, hopeful, and full of light. They’ll desire your resilience, your willingness to grow, and the gentle optimism that you bring into even dark moments. They’ll crave the way you make everything possible. You embody the beauty of transformation, and that’s deeply sensual in its own way. Like they know you will try and try to please them and honestly, they will praise you for it.
making you moan, listening, commanding, orders, audios, exploring new kinks, open minded, no self limit to exploration, begging, saying sorry through it, punishment play, rewards, yearning, oral, on their knees for you.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
♥︎ Pile Six
The deeper that you push, the deeper I will go
How are you doll? God, your next partner is the heart of love itself, someone who gives emotional reciprocity, soul partnership and union.Your next partner will be drawn to the way you create connection effortlessly. You know how to balance giving and receiving, how to meet someone halfway with an open heart. They’ll desire the feeling they have around you, one of equal, understood, chosen. They’ll crave your way of loving, how you make partnership feel safe, intimate, and sacred. You don’t love halfway, you bring depth and sincerity that turns chemistry into communion. That is the reason why they feel so good in sex with you.
They said that God's a woman, I'll worship you the same
This adds a spiritual and intuitive layer. Your next partner will be drawn to your inner wisdom, the way you seem to “just know” what people need, how you see beyond the surface. You may act as a light for others, calm, grounding, subtly guiding without controlling. They’ll desire your insight, how your love feels so sweet and intentional. To them, you’ll feel like kindness, someone who awakens their higher self simply by being near you. Yeah you get them turned on by your presence and scent alone.
My sinful confession, you're my obsession
This is one of the most sensual kinds of desire, the slow, steady warmth that builds trust over time between the two of you. Your partner will crave your emotional maturity, your ability to stay calm, to let things unfold naturally, to love without rushing. They’ll desire your steadiness, the peace you offer in a world that moves too fast. This energy says that love with you isn’t chaotic but it’s consistent, comforting, real. They often are torn between wanting you to be a pillow princess or take that place.
The deeper that I get inside you, the deeper you will fall
And here’s your soul’s magnetism, your heart. Your next partner will be drawn to how you feel them, how your empathy makes them feel seen and accepted and they can get so aroused when you make them feel seen. It’s not just that you understand emotions, you hold them gently, without judgment. They’ll crave your kindness, how you make them feel safe to be vulnerable, to be human. Your empathy becomes a bridge, it makes intimacy feel healing, not heavy. Like even if they are dominant in the relationship, it still feels good to know they have someone who sees their vulnerable side.
orgasm denial, edging, teasing, giving and receiving, getting off by giving you pleasure, dirty talking, guiding voice, talking you through it, dom energy, missionary, strangling, kissing, tongue kissing, romanticism.
-> Hello folks. I haven't been online a lot lately my apologies <3. This isn't tarot, kpop or astrology related. It is more of a writing I did that I really wanted to share with you all. It's about love between y/n and Grim Reaper. I have made sure to make GR neutral so you can use your imagination to place whoever you want in there <3 I hope you enjoyed it.
-> I wrote to the sound of this playlist. If you can, listen to it with piano music. It will add some realism
-> Setting: Victorian Era, you are a witchy healer who got bonded with a Grim Reaper. Inspired in one of my incoming rps with @nishloves . If you enjoy it let me know, I will happily do more writing on this
It was a gray afternoon when you arrived at the Hawthorn estate, the sky swollen with rain that refused to fall. Yet you had been quite sure that the rain would eventually pour, after all there wasn't a day that rain didn't hit England. You carried your satchel of bottles and parchment recipes, the soft clinking of glass the only sound as you stepped through the marble threshold.
Lady Hawthorn met you at the door, wrapped in lace and worry. She has an old woman, her grey hair tied in a severe bun. Usually she would come by your cottage, asking for different medicine every week, but her worry for her husband had made her call you directly to the estate.
"Lady Hawthorn" you said, bowing with respect to the old woman.
"Lady Y/n, you have finally arrived, please come in" she hurried you.
With haste, she took you to the matrimonial room, where her husband laid. Fast asleep but weak, his skin was yellowish, hair sticking with sweat at the base of his skull. You didn't wait much, checking him, looking for signs of illness, poisoning or even of magic. After all, many people would prey on the downfall of the rich.
“For my husband’s lungs,” she said, voice brittle after you had finished your check up, writing a small note in your notebook. “He coughs blood when the nights are damp.”
"Any other signals? Does he urinates blood? Perhaps fever or any other usual behavior?" you asked.
"Not that I ken. Coughs are the only thing that my poor wee husband has been suffering from" her thick Scottish accent transcended and I smiled. "Is he going to survive? The doctor gave him poor chances"
You nodded, handing over two small vials from your satchel. “A spoonful before bed. Another at sunrise. Keep him warm.”
She thanked you and as surprising that it was, it seemed like Lady Hawthorn wanted to thank you for the deeds. She requested for you to be taken to the parlor so you could have some refreshments. A simple way of gratitude beside the few coins she had securely left in the palm of your hand.
And so, you were left in that dim room, as the servants brought you tea and some biscuits you didn't care for. The manor was too large, too quiet, the sort of silence that hums in the ribs. You could tell that the days of children's laughter through the walls were long over. As the servant poured your cup, your eyes drifted to the corner of the parlor where a black piano was, polished to mirror sheen.
You had not touched one in years. Father had taught you too, but your apothecary and your magic attending never left you time to even consider getting such a piece. It felt almost indecent, like touching a relic from a life you’d never had. Still, curiosity won. When the servant left, you set your gloves aside on the small tea table and stood up. You walked toward the piano, spotting right by it before you pressed one key.
A soft note bloomed through the room. Perhaps sitting on the small boot would be more conformable, and so you did. Another note followed, then another, until the melody found your hands on its own. And through memory, you played an old folk song you used to hum while grinding herbs.
The sound carried through the halls like the first breath after winter.
And then the air changed. The temperature dipped, a whisper of frost brushing your neck and you could feel goosebumps claiming your skin. You didn’t have to turn around to know who stood behind you.
“I didn’t know you could play.”
His voice, that familiar blend of smoke and silk, cut through the stillness of the room. You glanced over your shoulder and found him leaning against the far wall, arms folded, eyes glowing faintly red in the dim light. No one else could see him, after all the spiritual world wasn't a gift given to every men. The servants walked past the open door without pause, unaware of the shadow that bent the light beside you.
“I used to,” you said softly, fingers never stopping. “Before the work took all my time.”
He stepped closer. The air thickened, the candles’ flames tilted toward him. Despite the few months you have first encountered this Grim Reaper, you were still enchanted by his presence and slightly intimidated by the power that he held.
“Play for me.” He requested.
It wasn’t a command so much as a plea. You hesitated, then smiled faintly. “What would Death want with music?”
“It’s the one thing that doesn’t die” he murmured.
You played. Slow, deliberate, each note unfurling like a heartbeat. He circled the piano, the hem of his dark coat whispering across the polished floor. He stopped beside you, close enough that the chill of him grazed your arm. Wasn't it strange? that he was but a mass of cold, freezing energy and yet, you wouldn't have exchanged his presence for a warm pyre in a snow night.
For a moment, he didn’t speak. He simply listened, head bowed, eyes half-closed. To anyone else, he would have looked carved from shadow. To you, he looked almost human.
When the melody shifted to a minor key, his voice broke the quiet.
“Do you know,” he said, “that the dead still hear music? It reaches them in fragments. A song they loved once, carried by memory. Sometimes it’s the only thing that guides them home.”
You looked up at him, hands stilling on the keys. “Do you hear it, too?”
He gave a slow, sad smile. “I hear everything. Every prayer whispered at a grave. Every lullaby sung to someone who never woke up. But this…” His gaze dropped to your hands. “This is the first time I’ve heard it for me.”
Something in your chest tightened. You wanted to reach for him but the memory of what his touch could do stopped you. After all, one touch, and your soul would be claimed. Sometimes, late at night, you wondered, if death wouldn't be kinder than men. Instead, you placed your hand flat against the keys, feeling the faint vibration of the last fading note.
“You always come when I least expect it,” you said quietly. “Are you following me?”
“Always,” he said, and there was no apology in it. “Whenever you walk, it feels like the earth is vibrating underneath my feet. And I…” He exhaled, almost a sigh. “I like the sound of your steps.”
You laughed softly, more breath than sound. “You speak like a poet.”
“No,” he murmured, stepping just close enough that his reflection shimmered faintly in the piano’s lacquer. “Just someone learning what it means to be alive.”
The rain finally began to fall outside, a thin patter against the tall windows. You started to play again, softer this time, a melody to match the storm. The Grim Reaper stood beside you, hands folded behind his back, watching the movement of your fingers as though they were the most fragile miracle he’d ever seen.
When the final note faded, the world was quiet again, except for the rain. It was almost peaceful. And for that, you were thankful to Lady Hawthorn.
“You should go,” he said at last, voice low. “The lady will notice the chill soon. There's a dying man in these walls, my presence would only claim him before his time”
You nodded and rose, gathering your satchel and your gloves that were still on top of that tea table. But before you left the room, you reached out, letting your fingers hover just above his sleeve, not touching, but close enough that both of you could feel the hum of it.
“I’ll play again,” you promised.
“I’ll be listening.”
And as you stepped back into the hall, the piano gave one soft note on its own, as though Death himself had pressed a key in farewell.
୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ working with gojo was easier than you thought it would be— coming to an agreement with him at some points was still a surprise though. nonetheless, keeping a distance was becoming harder with how insistent he was at disrupting your routine.
part 3 -> part 4 -> part 5
the next few days blurred into a cycle of meetings that seemed to bleed into one another—long tables lined with half-empty coffee cups, laptops clicking open and shut, catered lunches eaten in fragments while negotiations pressed on. you had fallen into rhythm: efficient, precise, distant. and if the air between you and gojo still hummed with old static, you did your best not to flinch at it.
at first, it was tense in the way only years of history could make it. sharp glances across the conference room. clipped tones when one of you cut into the other’s argument. even the silences seemed weighted, stretched taut like a wire pulled too far.
and then slowly it began to shift.
the first time caught you off guard.
it was midway through yet another draft review, the projector casting columns of clauses and subsections onto the wall. one of the senior executives from your side leaned forward, proposing an adjustment to a section that favored your company. too much, though. you spotted the flaw instantly. it was inelegant—yes, it tilted the balance toward your side, but it left loopholes that would be a nightmare to litigate down the line.
you had already drawn in breath, ready to speak, when gojo’s voice slid in, casual and smooth:
“that’s sloppy,” he said, spinning a pen lazily between his fingers. “leave it like that and we’re just begging for arbitration hell. better to close it tight here, clean language, no wiggle room.”
you froze.
because the words — the logic, the phrasing — were almost exactly what you’d been about to say.
you looked at him, sharp and searching, but he hadn’t looked at you. his gaze stayed fixed on the screen, his posture loose in his chair, as though the whole matter was a casual observation rather than a decisive interruption. still, something prickled at the back of your neck.
the room hummed with agreement, murmurs circling as the clause was struck and reworded. you lowered your gaze back to your papers, tapping your pen against the margin.
don’t read into it, you told yourself. it’s coincidence. nothing more.
but later, when the draft circulated back around, you paused at that exact section. your pen hovered, then moved with brisk precision across the page, marking in neat red ink: agree with revision.
you felt it before you saw it. that weight.
your eyes flicked up, and there he was, across the table, watching your pen scratch across the margin. not for long. just the briefest glance, just enough to notice. but his mouth twitched. not into a full smile, however the corner of his lips tugged upward, like he’d found some small, private joke.
you snapped your eyes back to the page, spine stiffening.
the second time came in the middle of a tense strategy session.
the air in the conference room was thick with frustration — papers shuffled too often, the projector buzzed faintly, and half the table looked like they’d rather be anywhere else. the junior manager at the front fumbled with his slides, his voice tripping over numbers that didn’t quite line up, graphs that told three different stories at once.
you could feel the tension climbing up the walls. every misplaced word, every stuttered explanation made the silence afterward heavier. some of the older executives were shifting uncomfortably, others staring blankly at their phones, but no one interrupted.
except gojo.
he was sprawled lazily in his chair, hands folded behind his head, legs crossed at the ankles. the very picture of someone who didn’t need to be here, but showed up anyway just to remind everyone of it. his sunglasses dangled from the open collar of his shirt, the slightest curve of his mouth betraying his boredom.
“mm,” he hummed suddenly, loud enough to make the poor manager flinch. “is this supposed to be a forecast or a ransom note?”
a couple of muffled chuckles rippled through the table. the manager’s ears burned crimson.
you sighed inwardly. typical.
pushing your chair back, you rose to your feet and crossed to the screen. your heels clicked softly against the floor, breaking the silence, grounding the space in something steadier than his sharp edges.
“why don’t we simplify the model?” you said, keeping your tone even, almost gentle. you gestured at the projection with the tip of your pen. “strip it down to one axis—the revenue timeline. the rest can come later. too much detail upfront muddies the story.”
a wave of relief washed across the table. some nodded. the manager visibly relaxed, clutching at your words like a lifeline. then came gojo’s voice, cutting in right after, smooth and effortless,
“yeah, less is more. overcomplication makes you look insecure.”
you didn’t have to look to know his gaze was on you. but when you did glance, you found him already watching—head tipped, expression unreadable. not smug. not teasing.
just… there.
his words hadn’t been aimed like a dart this time. they echoed yours, like you’d both traced the same logic to the same conclusion without meaning to.
and for a second, something passed between you. a flicker of acknowledgment, a silent admission: you were right. we agree.
it wasn’t dramatic, not the way people imagined rivalries snapping into camaraderie. it was quiet, layered into the stale conference room air. but it shook you all the same. you were the one to look away first, slipping the pen back into your hand, smoothing your expression into cool professionalism.
but you could feel it—the weight of his gaze lingering a little longer than it should, the ghost of that wordless accord pressing against the walls you’d built.
by the end of the week, the shift was impossible to ignore.
you didn’t want to admit you were even paying attention, because paying attention to satoru gojo meant letting him into your head, and if there was anything you swore you wouldn’t do again, it was that. but you noticed.
in meetings, his voice would cut across the room, smooth and unhurried, drawing every pair of eyes without effort. and then—irritatingly, inevitably—you’d find yourself agreeing with what he said. not because of him, never because of him, but because he had taken the same line of logic you had mapped out in your own head.
worse, sometimes it was the other way around. you’d raise an idea, measured and sharp, and there he’d be—leaning back in his chair, tossing in a casual, “yeah, exactly what she said,” as though it was the most natural thing in the world to back you up.
the first time it happened, you brushed it off. coincidence. he was too clever not to recognize solid reasoning when he heard it, and you weren’t arrogant enough to think he’d dismiss good strategy just to spite you.
but by the third time, the fifth time, the eighth—no. there was something deliberate about it. something that made the air in the room tighten, made the people around the table glance between the two of you like they were seeing cracks in an old, well-worn wall.
and it unsettled you.
because if there was one thing you’d always been certain of, it was this: you and satoru gojo were not, had never been, and could never be on the same side.
you’d built that belief like a fortress — brick by brick, through years of rivalry and competition, through the sting of his careless privilege, through every sleepless night you’d spent working twice as hard just to stand in the same room as him. hating him had been a constant. it had steadied you when nothing else did.
but now, in flickers and shadows, there was something else, moments that felt like alignment.
and worse than the moments themselves was the thought that they weren’t accidental. that he might be doing it on purpose. not to undermine you, not to bait you into mistakes, but to stand beside you.
the possibility lodged under your ribs like a shard of glass.
because what scared you more than him being your enemy was the whisper of a world where he wasn’t.
—
it happened at lunch. not the kind of orchestrated team lunch where the ceo’s assistant arranged for half the department to eat at the same overpriced sushi place, but something more mundane.
you’d slipped out between meetings, phone in one hand, eyes scanning through a list of emails you knew you wouldn’t finish by end of day. the cafeteria in the building wasn’t glamorous —bright lights, stainless steel counters, the faint smell of burnt coffee baked into the tiles — but it was quiet enough, tucked into the lull between shifts.
you ordered something simple, a salad and a cup of tea, and made your way toward a corner table. you liked corner tables. invisible tables. the kind where no one bothered you, where the noise of the office dulled into nothing.
the first bite of lettuce had just crunched between your teeth when his voice broke through.
“you’re predictable, you know that?”
your head snapped up. gojo stood a few feet away, tray balanced effortlessly in one hand. a burger, fries, soda — grease and salt and sugar, like he was still a teenager daring the world to stop him. his sunglasses were perched on his head, a useless accessory indoors, but he wore them like a crown anyway.
your stomach sank. of course. of course he’d find you here.
“i didn’t realize my lunch choices were your business,” you said flatly, already angling your body back toward your food.
“everything about you is my business now.” he didn’t miss a beat, didn’t ask if the seat was taken before sliding into it, long legs folding under the table with irritating ease.
your jaw clenched. “we’re colleagues. that’s it.”
he grinned, unwrapping his burger with deliberate slowness. “partners,” he corrected lightly. “temporary ones, sure, but still. i think that means i’m allowed to notice when you’re eating the same thing three days in a row.”
you stabbed at a cherry tomato with unnecessary force. “or maybe it means you should focus on your own meals.”
he took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, then leaned back in his chair as if he owned the entire cafeteria. “you haven’t changed much.”
your fork stilled halfway to your mouth. “excuse me?”
“the way you work, i mean,” he said, gesturing lazily with a fry. “laser-focused. minimal distractions. you eat fast, you don’t waste time, you don’t bother with small talk. you’re still exactly like you were back in uni.”
the words slid under your skin like splinters. you shouldn’t have cared. he was careless, always had been—throwing observations like confetti, waiting to see what stuck. but something about the way he said it, so casually, like he’d been storing that knowledge all along, made your chest tighten.
“you don’t know me,” you snapped, sharper than intended.
for once, his smile softened. not smug, not mocking — just crooked, almost boyish. “no. but i used to watch you. every lecture, every exam. you were impossible to ignore.”
your pulse jumped. heat prickled at the base of your neck. you forced your fork down onto the plate with a quiet clink.
“if you’re trying to flatter me, don’t. it doesn’t work.”
“wasn’t flattery,” he murmured, shoulders rising in an easy shrug. “just observation.”
the cafeteria hummed faintly in the background—the rattle of trays, the hiss of the coffee machine—yet between you, there was only silence, stretched taut. you lifted your tea to your lips, sipping to steady the rush in your chest.
then he spoke again, and his tone was different.
“i admire it, you know. that drive.” his eyes weren’t teasing now. they were steady, unsettlingly clear. “most people don’t have it. i didn’t.”
you glanced at him. and for the first time, you couldn’t read him. no mask, no sarcasm, no lazy grin. just honesty.
and that was somehow worse.
“well,” you said quickly, turning back to your plate, your voice clipped, “it got me here. that’s all that matters.”
“got you further than me,” he muttered, almost like he hadn’t meant for it to slip.
your fork hovered over the salad. the words sat between you, heavier than the table, heavier than the silence.
you hated the way your heart stuttered. hated that some reckless, treacherous part of you wanted to believe him. so you picked up your fork again and ate with mechanical precision, shutting him out, shutting the moment down.
you finished your tea too quickly, barely tasting the last sip. it wasn’t thirst that drove you—it was the excuse. the small, physical justification to stand, to leave, to put distance between yourself and the strange heaviness that had crept into the conversation. your tray clattered softly as you gathered it, pushing your chair back with a scrape against the polished cafeteria floor.
“thanks for the unsolicited character analysis,” you said dryly, tone sharpened to deflect. “now if you’ll excuse me, i actually have work to do.”
gojo leaned back, balancing a fry between his fingers like it was a coin. “so do i.” he popped it into his mouth, chewed leisurely, then stood with a flourish, grabbing his tray. “lucky for you, we’re going to the same place.”
your shoulders stiffened, and you shot him a look over your shoulder as you started walking. “don’t.”
“don’t what?” he asked, feigning innocence as he fell into step beside you, his longer stride cutting the distance effortlessly.
“don’t make this into some kind of… thing,” you snapped, adjusting your grip on the tray as if that would anchor you.
“what, walking?” his eyes gleamed behind his glasses, mouth curling in that infuriating grin. “sorry, didn’t realize i had to get your permission for basic human movement.”
you stopped at the conveyor belt, setting your tray down with deliberate precision. “you know exactly what i mean.”
“i do,” he admitted cheerfully, sliding his tray beside yours. “but it’s more fun pretending i don’t.”
you huffed out a sharp breath and turned on your heel, making a beeline for the elevators. his shoes clicked steadily behind you, each step an echo you couldn’t shake off.
“so,” he began conversationally, as though this were the most natural thing in the world, “you still bury your nose in books every night? or did you finally learn the joys of binge-watching trashy tv?”
you jabbed the call button a little harder than necessary. “work doesn’t leave me much time for either.”
“ah,” he drawled, leaning just close enough that you could feel his presence without him touching you. “so you became even less fun.”
you turned your head slowly, giving him a glare sharp enough to cut. his grin only widened, teeth flashing like he’d just won a hand you hadn’t realized you were playing.
“better than wasting time like you,” you shot back. “what do you even do when you’re not getting in people’s way?”
his grin curved wickedly, pleased that you’d taken the bait. “well, last night i ate an entire tub of ice cream while watching reruns of a cooking show. does that count as an achievement?”
the words were so ridiculous — so stupidly, un-gojo-like in their mundanity — that it caught you completely off guard. before you could stop yourself, a sound broke loose from your throat.
a laugh. short, startled, unguarded.
you clapped a hand over your mouth immediately, eyes widening like you’d just cursed in church. heat surged to your face, betraying you completely.
gojo stopped dead. the world seemed to still with him.
“…did you just laugh?” he asked, voice hushed in mock reverence, like he’d just stumbled upon a rare, mythical creature.
“no,” you said quickly, too quickly, your voice muffled behind your hand. the elevator dinged open, mercifully interrupting. you strode inside with all the dignity you could muster, jabbing the button for your floor like it had personally wronged you.
but he followed, practically glowing, his grin stretching wide as if the fluorescent lights had been waiting just to spotlight this moment.
“you did!” he crowed. “i swear, i haven’t heard that sound in over a decade. and it was at my joke, too. oh, this is historic. i need write it down.”
you crossed your arms tight against your chest, fixing your gaze on the momentarily still number above the door. “it wasn’t even funny.”
“sure, sure,” he said lightly, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. the teasing was still there, but his smile had shifted, softened. smaller. almost… disbelieving.
you pretended not to see it. pretended not to feel the faint warmth buzzing under your skin, the tug in your chest that felt far too dangerous to acknowledge.
you folded deeper into yourself, armor snapping back into place. neutral face, steady breath, controlled posture as though the laugh had been nothing, an accident, static noise that would never repeat.
the elevator doors slid shut with a smooth hiss, sealing the two of you inside. the sound echoed briefly before fading into silence, the kind of silence that wasn’t empty but dense, pressing down on you from all sides.
you stepped instinctively toward the corner, as if the square footage of the elevator wasn’t already too tight, as if distance could undo the fact that he was here — towering, infuriatingly composed, hands shoved casually in his pockets like the world had never told him no. it probably hadn’t.
you fixed your eyes on the glowing floor numbers above the door. red light counting down: 17, 16, 15. you willed it to go faster.
but you felt it—that gaze. not sharp, not taunting, not the smug, careless energy he wore like cologne. this was steadier and slower, maybe even searching.
“you really laughed,” he said softly. so softly it almost sounded like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
your shoulders stiffened. “drop it.” your voice came out too sharp, too fast — defensive in a way that betrayed more than it concealed.
a pause. then, quietly but firm, “i can’t.”
you clenched your jaw, the muscles tight enough to ache. “you will.”
you didn’t need to look at him to know the expression on his face—the slight tilt of his head, the unreadable half-curve of his mouth, those pale eyes catching every flinch you tried to hide.
“it’s just…” he exhaled, leaning back against the railing like he wasn’t about to upend you with a single sentence. “i forgot what it sounded like. lighter than i remembered. less… practiced.”
the word dug straight through you. practiced. like the networking smiles that left your cheeks sore. the polite, hollow laughter at client dinners. the careful, curated mask you’d honed over years of fighting tooth and nail to stand where you stood now.
you felt heat crawl up your throat. hated that he’d seen straight through it.
your nails pressed into your palm as you forced the words out, brittle as glass. “you’re imagining things.”
a beat of silence. the faint hum of the elevator motor filled it.
“am i?” his voice dipped lower this time, something disarming woven into it. “or do you just hate that i noticed?”
the numbers kept ticking down, but each floor felt like an eternity.
you tightened your arms around yourself, posture rigid, eyes locked anywhere but on him. “you notice too much.” the words came out like a warning, clipped and strained.
his reply was immediate. “only when it comes to you.”
your breath stuttered in your chest, your hand groping blindly for the railing behind you, gripping hard enough for the metal to dig into your palm. grounding yourself in the cool, unyielding steel, because if you didn’t, you were certain you’d falter under the weight of him. what was happening to you?
you forced your expression flat, your voice steady as you glanced at him.
“you have a real talent for saying the wrong thing.” you aimed for disdain, for sharpness, but even you could hear the thinness in your voice, the threadbare edges.
when he smiled, it wasn’t the infuriating smirk you’d braced yourself for. it was faint, almost sad. fleeting.
“yeah,” he murmured, looking down at the floor for once. “story of my life with you, huh?”
the words knocked the breath out of you more than you wanted to admit.
the elevator slowed, humming into a mechanical sigh as it neared the ground floor. you inhaled quickly, grateful for the interruption, for the ding that split the air and broke the moment cleanly in half.
you stepped out first, heels clicking against the polished floor in a rhythm that was just shy of hurried. every step was measured, deliberate, but the stiffness in your shoulders betrayed you. the hallway smelled faintly of burnt coffee from the break room and printer toner, the faint static hum of office life filtering back into your ears as though the elevator had been a sealed capsule and not the place where you’d almost cracked.
but even as you walked, you could feel it — that gaze, heavy on your back, following you until the doors closed behind him again.
and you hated it. hated the way it lingered. hated the way it warmed something long-cold in you. hated the way it ached with the ghost of what could have been, what never should be.
by the time you reached the glass doors of the conference room, your mask was back on. the tilt of your chin sharpened, the set of your jaw tightened, and your mouth arranged itself into the polite, unreadable line you’d perfected over the years. armor slipped into place as naturally as breathing.
inside, the room buzzed with the low shuffle of order restoring itself. assistants passed out fresh packets of printouts, the steady click of keyboards filled the corners, and the long oak table gleamed under the white glare of recessed lighting. slides blinked across the projector screen in numbers and bar graphs — sterile, precise, the language you knew best.
you slipped into your chair without flourish, spine straight, pen poised between your fingers like a weapon, already tapping quietly against the margin of your notepad. as if you’d been there the whole time, as if the last few minutes in the elevator had never existed.
gojo followed moments later. the sound of his footsteps was different from yours: long, loose, carrying none of your restraint. he walked in like he owned the place, and no one batted an eye as he sauntered in, all lazy elegance, as though he hadn’t kept everyone waiting.
he dropped into his chair with the kind of ease only he could manage, tilting his head back and sprawling like the rigid lines of corporate etiquette had never touched him. if anyone noticed the faint curve at the edge of his mouth — the shadow of something you knew was directed at you — they didn’t comment on it.
“alright,” he drawled, voice smooth as silk, just a little too loud, “where were we? ah—yes. death by numbers.”
scattered chuckles rippled around the table. tired, but genuine enough. people were charmed by him, even when they didn’t want to be.
you weren’t. your pen tapped once, twice, against the paper before your hand stilled, eyes glued firmly to the projected figures.
just once you let yourself glance up.
and that was your mistake.
because he was already watching you.
not with his usual cocky smirk, not with that look that dared you to spar back, not with the open challenge you’d come to expect from him. no, this was quieter. heavier. something more dangerous.
recognition.
your stomach knotted, and your throat went dry. you tore your gaze back down to the page so sharply the tip of your pen left a blot of ink in the corner. you scrawled notes— neat, precise, even though your hand trembled slightly. you knew you’d barely remember what you wrote later.
because this couldn’t happen. it wouldn’t happen.
the meeting rolled forward like a tide. voices rose and fell, figures were debated, contracts picked apart. you spoke when required, each word clipped, efficient, carved down to nothing but logic and data. every syllable was another layer of armor, every sentence another wall.
but you felt it, his attention. that invisible thread pulling, tugging, as though no matter how tightly you knotted yourself into professionalism, he could still find the seam.
and you hated yourself for noticing. hated yourself for the awareness simmering under your skin, for how much energy it took just to keep your breathing even. hated the fact that after all these years, after all the anger and exhaustion, some part of you still reacted to him.
gojo, though — if he noticed any of it — didn’t let it show. he sat with that same careless posture, his voice warm and commanding when he spoke, his expression just a little too unreadable when he went quiet.
every so often, when the conversation lulled and someone else took the floor, you swore you could feel his gaze again, brushing against you like static. and no matter how hard you pressed your pen into paper, it didn’t erase the sensation.
—
the sun had already slipped past the highest buildings by the time the day wound down, washing the city in a kind of bruised orange glow.
the glass facade of the office caught the light and fractured it into dozens of fractured shards, spilling across the pavement. a cool breeze threaded through the street, carrying the hum of traffic and the low thrum of conversations—colleagues spilling out of the building in twos and threes, laughter and tired chatter breaking through the sharp edges of corporate decorum.
gojo lingered. he always did and not because of work — he wasn’t the kind to chain himself to spreadsheets long after hours. but because he liked the silence that fell when the building emptied. liked the hush of it, how the clatter of keyboards and phones gave way to something quieter. it left room for his thoughts, and lately, his thoughts had only been circling back to one thing.
you.
he’d spent all day replaying it — the cramped elevator ride, the way you’d laughed, bright and startled, before snapping the sound shut like it had betrayed you. the way your expression had tightened the second the doors opened, as though the laugh was something shameful. as though he was something shameful.
it stuck in him, that tiny fracture.
he stepped through the revolving glass doors into the fading evening. the air smelled faintly of asphalt and the floral notes of whatever upscale perfume store had just closed across the street. his driver had the car already waiting at the curb, sleek and black, engine humming low.
gojo slipped his sunglasses from his pocket, sliding them over his eyes even though the sun was nearly gone. it was a habit more than a necessity, a shield, a way of hiding where his gaze drifted.
and then, before he could step into the car, he saw you.
you stood a little further down the sidewalk, papers tucked loosely beneath one arm, your bag slung over your shoulder. the tension that clung to you all day — boardroom-straight spine, clipped gestures, that stubborn set to your jaw — had melted. your posture was loose, your body turned casually toward the coworker beside you.
and you were smiling.
not the razor-sharp smirk you used to throw at him in lecture halls and not the strained politeness you wore in meetings now. not even the reluctant twitch of your mouth when he managed to push your nerves too far.
this was different. a real smile. so easy and unguarded. it softened your face, pulled warmth into your eyes, creased the corners of them in a way he hadn’t seen in— god, how long had it been?
gojo froze, one hand braced against the edge of the car door.
he’d forgotten.
he’d forgotten you could look like that.
the sound of your laugh carried faintly down the sidewalk, threading into the evening noise. it was light, effortless. so unlike the small, startled thing he’d dragged out of you in the elevator earlier.
that laugh — this smile — it wasn’t for him, it had nothing to do with him. and somehow, that stung more than any of your sharp words ever had.
gojo told himself it was nothing. ridiculous, really. what did it matter who you laughed with? you were entitled—no, owed—the right to keep your own life separate from him. you had every reason to want that distance.
but still, as he slid into the leather seat, shutting the car door behind him, the image stayed.
you, relaxed.
you, laughing at someone who wasn’t him.
you, free of the sharp tension that always wrapped around you in his presence.
and it hit him in a way he didn’t expect: not just a pang of longing, but something closer to envy. envy of the ease, envy of whoever it was who could stand next to you and draw that warmth out without even trying.
for the first time in a long time, gojo wondered if maybe it wasn’t about missing what you used to be to him—maybe he missed what he’d never been allowed to see at all.
“home, sir?” the driver asked, eyes catching him briefly in the rearview.
gojo hesitated, his throat tight with something he refused to name. “…yeah. home.”
the car eased away from the curb, city lights flickering to life in the windshield. but his gaze stayed fixed on the blurred outline of you in the side mirror until the street curved and swallowed you from view.
a thought settled in deep in his chest: gojo wasn’t sure if he wanted to break you down, or be the reason you finally let your guard down.
tori’s notes. HEYYY hello my lovely readers!! we got some more gojo and reader interactions hehe hope you enjoyed it!! feedback is very much appreciated, thank you!!
୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ after the events of the party, you and gojo part ways — he inherits privilege and power, while you climb the ladder through grit alone. coming face to face with each other wasn’t a part of his plan. neither was it a part of yours.
part 1 -> part 2 -> part 3
after that night, you never spoke to gojo again. not in class, not in hallways, not in the quiet corners of libraries where you used to cross paths. it wasn’t even avoidance anymore — it was absence. a cold, hollow silence where something sharp and burning used to be.
you buried yourself in the rest of your final year. exams, papers, applications: you drowned in them, let yourself vanish beneath the weight of every deadline. sometimes you wondered if he looked at you in passing, if he still carried some trace of that night, but you never let yourself check.
when graduation came, you didn’t go.
you told your friends you were sick. told yourself you didn’t need a ceremony to prove anything. you already had your degree, your future waiting—or maybe not waiting, but something you’d have to claw toward anyway. you’d never been one for rituals.
the truth was simpler: you couldn’t bear to stand in that hall, cap on your head, diploma in hand, while gojo satoru’s name was called beside yours. couldn’t stand to hear the applause that always followed him, that blinding spotlight that somehow still reached you no matter how hard you’d tried to escape it. so you stayed home. sat on the edge of your bed with the blinds drawn, the muffled sound of celebration spilling faintly from the campus in the distance.
and gojo noticed. he’d known, the moment they lined up, that something was wrong. your row was thinner than it should have been, the empty seat glaring like a wound. he scanned the crowd—out of habit, out of something he refused to name—and didn’t see you. not at the ceremony, not in the chaos of photographs after, not in the groups spilling into bars and restaurants. nowhere.
and the realization settled heavy in his chest, that you’d walked away.
he should’ve expected it. he’d pushed too far that night, tried to blur lines that were never meant to bend. you’d made it clear, with your words and your hand against his cheek, that you wanted nothing more to do with him.
but standing there in his robes, the tassel brushing against his temple, diploma in hand, surrounded by laughter and congratulations—he felt it. the hollow space where you should have been.
for once, the noise around him felt empty.
he smiled for the cameras, said the right words to professors, clapped his friends on the back, but his eyes kept catching on every gap in the crowd, every corner you weren’t in.
and later, when the night settled and everyone spilled out into streets and celebrations, he let himself wonder.
if you’d been there, would you have looked at him one last time? would it have meant anything? or would it just have been more silence, the same heavy absence that had followed him ever since that night? he didn’t know. but he knew this: you weren’t there.
and that hurt worse than the slap you landed on his face. . .
either way, post-university, gojo’s life unfurled in a way that almost looked effortless from the outside.
he slipped into opportunities the way he always had. his family name opened doors before he even reached for the handle. internships led to positions, positions led to promotions, and within a couple years he was exactly where everyone always expected him to be: sharp suit, corner office, the kind of future people admired at a distance.
and he hated how easy it was.
he told himself it was what he wanted—what he’d worked toward. the grades, the connections, the internships, all of it had built to this. but sitting in meetings where half the room laughed too quickly at his jokes and the other half measured his surname before they measured his skill, he felt something gnawing.
he could do the work, sure, he was good at it, but the shine dulled quickly when he realized no one ever expected him to prove it. not really. and in the quiet spaces, late nights at the office, or mornings where the city still felt asleep, he thought about you.
not always consciously. sometimes it was just a flicker, like the sound of laughter echoing too close to yours, or a face in the crowd with your tilt of a smile. but it was there, stitched into the silence he carried with him.
he remembered everything—your sharp comebacks, the way you never let him coast too easily, the fire in your eyes when you beat him to an answer. god, he missed that. he missed someone looking at him and not seeing inevitability, but competition.
and he remembered the slap. the words. i fucking hate you, gojo.
sometimes he told himself you’d meant it. sometimes he told himself you hadn’t. either way, it stuck like a stone in his chest.
he dated, here and there. quick, easy things that never lasted. he was charming enough to pull people in, but the weight of expectation followed him everywhere, and sooner or later it smothered things. he couldn’t untangle what people wanted from him—from his name, from his future—and what they wanted from him.
you were the last person who’d never made it easy, who’d looked at him and seen something you wanted to tear down rather than use.
and now you were gone.
his friends still teased him sometimes about his “old rival.” most of them didn’t know the full story. they’d joke about how dramatic you two had been, about the way you’d snapped at each other in classes, about how “hot” it had been to watch. he laughed along, shrugged it off, let the image of rivalry stay intact because the truth was heavier, lonelier.
he worked. he climbed. he coasted.
but at night, when the city lights burned through his window and the silence in his apartment pressed in close, he thought about how you hadn’t come to graduation. how you’d chosen absence over seeing him one last time.
time had a way of sanding the edges off things.
after a while, even the sharpness of that night dulled. the sting of your words, the sound of your slap—at first, they’d haunted him like a phantom echo. but years have a way of burying memories under the grind of routine, the steady churn of success, and the endless expectations of adulthood.
gojo moved on.
he built the kind of resume people envied, even if they whispered behind his back that he’d been born with half of it. the family company was always waiting for him, a golden path paved before he was even old enough to spell his own name. and though he used to resent it, though he once wanted to prove himself outside the safety net, he found himself slipping back into it naturally.
his father started involving him more directly, bringing him into meetings not just as a representative but as an heir. the word carried a weight he didn’t want to admit he liked. heir. it meant permanence. inevitability. it meant no one could take this from him, not professors, not peers, not rivals.
and he thrived in it.
the sharpness of his mind hadn’t dulled, even if he didn’t have to fight as hard for recognition anymore. he could see solutions in seconds, read people before they finished their introductions. he was confident in ways he hadn’t been as a student—not the cocky mask of youth, but the polished assurance of a man who had both power and proof.
at some point he dated more seriously, too. women and men alike, partners who looked good on his arm at charity galas or board dinners. there were flings, yes, but also a few long-term things that lasted a year or two. none of them stuck, though. not because he couldn’t commit, but because the weight of who he was and who he’d always be hung between him and everyone else.
he was never just gojo satoru. he was the gojo satoru.
and for the most part, he accepted that. he leaned into it.
the parties got bigger, the stakes higher. he learned how to drink just enough, laugh just enough, speak just enough to charm investors and competitors alike. he was fluent in the language of wealth and power, a world he once mocked but now wore like a second skin.
sometimes, late at night, he would catch himself wondering if this was all too easy, if he’d truly earned any of it, but he buried that thought quickly, the way he buried other things.
like you.
he stopped thinking about you after a few years. not out of malice, not out of choice, but out of the same, familiar inevitability. life crowded out the space you once occupied. the rivalry, the fire, the slap—all of it faded until it was just a faint memory he couldn’t summon unless he tried.
you became a ghost story in his past. a name his old classmates occasionally dropped over drinks, followed by laughter about how dramatic you both were. he didn’t bother to correct them anymore. didn’t feel the ache he once did.
the truth was simple: you weren’t there. you hadn’t been there for years.
and he was busy becoming who he was always meant to be.
by the time gojo hit his early thirties, the unstoppable nature of, of himself, it all had settled like a mantle on his shoulders.
he wasn’t just an heir anymore. he was it.
the board members who used to smirk behind their hands at his youth now leaned toward him in meetings, measuring his words like scripture. his father had begun stepping back, his presence more ceremonial than functional, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time before gojo officially inherited the empire.
and gojo wore it well.
he’d grown into his face, into his height, into his confidence. the boyish arrogance of his student years had refined into something sleeker, more dangerous. charm was no longer a defense mechanism; it was a tool, something he wielded as effortlessly as a pen. he knew how to smile just enough, how to let silence stretch until people gave him what he wanted, how to wrap even his sharpest critiques in silk.
the city knew him. the industry knew him. sometimes it felt like the whole world did. articles were written about him, profiles framed him as a generational prodigy, investors called him visionary.
and for the most part, he believed it.
his days blurred into schedules: early meetings, endless calls, polished dinners. his nights were filled with the kind of parties that only the wealthy could access—lavish, glittering events where his presence was both expected and scrutinized. he danced through it all with ease, the perfect son, the perfect successor.
there were whispers, of course. that he was too young, that his last name carried him farther than his skill. but even those whispers began to fade when quarter after quarter, he delivered results that no one could deny.
he dated occasionally, but the older he got, the less patience he had for it. there were partners who looked good on paper, who fit neatly into the image of what his life should look like. some lasted months, others a year. but nothing stuck. not because he couldn’t commit, but because the role was too heavy for anyone else to bear.
so he let it go. leaned into work, into success. into the empire he was building with hands that had never known real failure.
sometimes, in rare quiet moments, he would wonder if this was really it. if the rest of his life would be this cycle of deals and dinners, this constant forward motion toward bigger and bigger numbers.
but mostly, he didn’t question it.
because what was there to question? he had everything. the power, the wealth, the recognition.
he had the crown.
and if there were nights where he found himself staring out over the city from his high-rise, glass of whiskey in hand, wondering why the victory felt just a little hollow—he buried it. the way he’d buried everything else.
including you.
and, well, as for you?
graduation came and went without you.
you told yourself you didn’t care. that watching everyone in their robes, watching him in his robe, would’ve been unbearable. it was easier to stay away, to bury yourself in the silence of your room and remind yourself that walking across that stage didn’t change who you were or what you’d done.
but the truth was—it hurt.
after university, the world didn’t open for you the way it did for others. especially not the way it did for gojo. jobs didn’t fall into your lap. you fought tooth and nail for interviews, clutched at internships that barely paid, balanced side jobs to keep afloat. every step forward felt like it took three times the effort anyone else needed.
and every time someone mentioned the word “connections,” you felt that familiar bitterness gnaw at you.
you told yourself you weren’t jealous. that you didn’t want his life anyway, that you’d rather carve something out with your own hands than inherit it, but it was hard, sometimes. hard not to think of him when rejection letters piled up, when bosses overlooked you, when exhaustion settled into your bones.
still, you pushed forward.
you built slowly, piece by piece. small roles that turned into bigger ones, projects that gave you enough credibility to get noticed. nothing glittered, nothing was effortless, but it was yours. the fire you’d carried at university dimmed after a while. not gone—never gone—but quieter, tempered. competition required an opponent, and you no longer had one.
you dated, too, though it always felt complicated. sometimes you worried you were too distracted, too tired, too wrapped up in proving yourself. there were moments of sweetness, of warmth, but nothing lasting.
and through it all, the shadow of him lingered.
not as sharply as before—not the way it had in those first raw years, when the thought of him was like salt in a wound. now, it was more like a ghost. a flicker at the edge of thought when you walked past a glossy skyscraper, when you overheard someone talking about heirs and legacies.
you didn’t look him up. not deliberately.but sometimes his name brushed against yours in articles, in industry chatter, in the mouths of people who liked to gossip about the gilded. gojo satoru, heir to the gojo group… gojo satoru, rising star in business…
and you told yourself it meant nothing, because your life was not his life. you weren’t chasing him anymore, no, you were chasing yourself.
the years stretched, and though it wasn’t easy, though it was a constant uphill climb, filled with long nights and quiet doubts, you built something you could stand on. maybe not an empire, maybe not a crown, but yours.
and if sometimes you wondered what it would feel like to see him again, to look into those eyes after so many years and know whether you still hated him or if the hate had dulled into something else—
well. you pushed that thought away, too.
your first job wasn’t glamorous. it wasn’t even close to what you dreamed of. you started as an assistant in a mid-tier firm, running schedules, making coffee, taking notes no one would ever read again. but you didn’t let it end there. you watched, you learned, you noticed what others missed—the way certain executives negotiated, the subtle cues that decided whether a deal went through or fell apart.
when the chance came to step in, you did. a small presentation here, an unexpected solution there. people started to notice. and once they noticed, you made damn sure they couldn’t forget you.
every opportunity became a foothold. you climbed, slowly at first, then faster, gaining speed and skill as the years went on. what others took for granted, you fought for and because of that, you owned it.
your twenties blurred into a series of long nights, sharp wins, and steady promotions. the climb wasn’t linear— you had setbacks, failures that knocked the wind out of you— but you always rose again. each stumble only sharpened you further.
by the time you hit your late twenties, you weren’t just surviving in the corporate world. you were thriving.
your name started to carry weight in the circles that mattered. not because of family, not because of heritage, but because of results. projects you led began drawing attention, not only inside your company but outside of it. your strategies worked. your leadership inspired. people began to seek you out.
headhunting offers followed. firms whispered promises of higher salaries, bigger teams, more visibility, and though you didn’t always take them, you could. that freedom alone was its own kind of triumph.
your thirties arrived, and with them came the roles you once thought were reserved only for people like him — executive-level positions, international opportunities, invitations to sit at tables you’d only dreamed of.
except you weren’t dreaming anymore. you were there.
and the best part was that every step, every achievement, was yours. not inherited. not handed down. earned. carved out of long hours and sharp choices, sacrifices and resilience.
there were moments you allowed yourself to stop, to look back at how far you’d come, and marvel at it. the younger version of you, the one who’d sat bitterly in her room on graduation day, would’ve never believed it.
but you’d done it. you were no longer chasing anyone. you weren’t trying to outpace a ghost, or prove a point to a boy who once thought you were just a rival in a game.
this was your life and you’d built it from the ground up.
but success didn’t feel the way you thought it would.
when you were younger, it had always been this shining, unreachable thing in your mind. a promise that once you touched it—once you finally made it—everything would make sense. the exhaustion, the endless work, the bitterness of watching people like gojo glide past you as if the world were designed for them. it would all be worth it, you told yourself, if you could just get there.
and in many ways, it was.
there was satisfaction in walking into a boardroom and knowing people listened when you spoke. in seeing your name in industry reports, tied to successes no one could take from you. in receiving invitations you once thought were reserved for the untouchable elite.
there was pride, too. deep, steady pride, like steel in your bones, because every title, every promotion, every recognition — it was yours. no legacy, no surname, no family fortune propping you up. only work, persistence, and the refusal to quit when the world gave you every reason to.
however there were quieter moments when success felt different.
sometimes it felt hollow. like standing at the top of a skyscraper and realizing the air is thinner up here, colder. you looked around and realized how much you’d sacrificed for the climb—relationships that never had the space to grow, friendships that withered because you didn’t have the time to water them, nights where you traded rest for progress.
you weren’t lonely, exactly. you had people, colleagues, even friends who admired and respected you. but there was a kind of solitude in being the one who had clawed her way up the hardest route possible. no one else could fully understand what it cost.
other times, it felt bittersweet. like standing in front of your reflection after a long day, dressed sharply, makeup perfect, another victory under your belt—and thinking, i did it. i actually did it. only for the thought to be followed immediately by: and tomorrow, i’ll have to do it again.
there were nights when you lay awake and asked yourself if this was it. if the endless climb, the constant forward push, was all there was.
but then there were days—glorious days—where success filled you with something radiant. like when a younger colleague told you they looked up to you, that you made them believe they could do it too, or when you closed a deal no one thought possible, or when you realized that you no longer felt small, overlooked, powerless.
because the truth was, no matter the weight, no matter the hollow parts—you’d proven yourself. not to anyone else. to yourself.
and that mattered more than anything.
by the time your early thirties rolled around, you were solidly established. not just climbing anymore, but standing in a place most people never reached.
you were an executive now—regional head at a respected multinational, with a team that actually listened, a budget that meant something, and projects that rippled across industries. the kind of position people fought tooth and nail for, sometimes their entire careers, and you’d landed it before most even hit their stride.
your calendar was packed with meetings, flights, dinners, negotiations. weeks blurred with jet lag and back-to-back calls, but you moved through it with the kind of precision only years of hard practice gave you. people had begun to describe you as sharp, formidable, reliable—words you once dreamed of having attached to your name.
your apartment reflected the life you’d carved. sleek, minimal, expensive without being ostentatious. a view of the city you once thought you’d never have. proof, in concrete and glass, of how far you’d come.
socially, you’d built a circle too. colleagues who turned into friends, friends who turned into anchors when the job threatened to consume you. and though you still sometimes wrestled with the solitude of success, you weren’t alone.
financially, you were stable—no, more than stable. comfortable. secure. you didn’t worry about bills anymore, about whether you’d make it to the next month. your name carried weight now. not the kind of inherited weight gojo once flaunted, but earned. weight people respected.
and for the first time in a long time, you were breathing easier. not coasting, but steady.
you weren’t the girl grinding herself down, desperate to prove she could keep up. you weren’t the “rival” consumed with someone else’s shadow. you were yourself. successful. established. proud.
the fire that drove you was still there, but it burned cleaner now. less frantic, less jagged. you’d learned to harness it, to direct it.
and if sometimes you caught yourself wondering what it might feel like to cross paths with the past—to see his face again, older, sharper, touched by the same years that had shaped you—well, you dismissed it.
because you had no reason to look back.
your life was full, your future brighter than ever.
and then, just when you’d settled into that certainty, life began moving its quiet pieces. the kind you never noticed until you were standing face-to-face with someone you once swore you hated.
—
the ballroom was everything it was supposed to be: glittering chandeliers, champagne flutes clinking in practiced rhythms, a string quartet humming away in the corner while laughter and congratulations swelled and broke like waves.
it was the kind of event gojo had been raised for. the kind where his name opened doors before he even stepped through them, where people hovered just close enough to catch his attention, eager to curry favor.
tonight was no different.
the deal had been massive—his father’s company merging with a foreign powerhouse, a partnership that meant headlines, wealth, security, prestige. he’d led the final negotiations himself, presented the plan, smoothed it all into place. and now, as the ink dried, the celebration was his to own.
he stood at the center of it, as he always did. tall, sharp, dazzling in a suit tailored within an inch of its life. people laughed at his jokes, toasted his brilliance, congratulated him on being the face of a new era.
and he felt nothing.
their praise slid off him like water on glass. every “well done,” every “you’ve made your father proud,” every “you’re the future, gojo-kun”—empty. meaningless.
he smiled, of course. he always smiled. grinned wide enough to blind, tossed his champagne back with the ease of a man who knew he was adored, but beneath it, the emptiness yawned wider.
he’d done everything right. followed the path carved out for him, exceeded every expectation. he was rich, powerful, admired.
so why did it all feel so hollow?
he laughed at another toast, the sound sharp, practiced, echoing a little too loud in his own ears. and then—
a voice. not directed at him, but close enough to cut through the din. clear, professional, carrying the weight of authority. his gaze tracked toward it, half idly, expecting some familiar executive, another gray-suited power broker.
but instead—
it was you.
standing across the room, glass in hand, surrounded by colleagues who looked at you with admiration and respect. older, sharper, polished by years of effort he hadn’t witnessed. no longer the student he’d sparred with in lecture halls, but an executive; someone who belonged in this room — not as a guest, not as a hanger-on, but as an equal.
your name rolled off someone’s tongue in introduction, paired with a title he hadn’t expected: executive director, high enough to make the crowd around you pay attention.
and suddenly, the air in the room shifted. for him, at least.
his pulse kicked hard against his ribs, that practiced emptiness cracking for the first time all evening.
you. here. not a memory, not a ghost, but flesh and blood.
and not just here—you were part of this. one of the executives of the very company he’d just closed the deal with.
his first instinct was disbelief, as if the universe had decided to play a cruel joke. his second was something sharper, messier: a rush of everything he thought he’d buried.
anger. nostalgia. regret.
he laughed again, but this time it was softer, almost breathless. the people around him kept talking, kept praising, but he barely heard them. because across the room, you existed in a way that made the emptiness inside him feel like it had just been waiting for this.
for a heartbeat, he wanted to convince himself he was imagining it. graceful in a silky gown, poised with years of experience, even more beautiful than he remembered—but unmistakably you. there was no mistaking the way you carried yourself, the precision of your movements, the tilt of your chin when you addressed a colleague.
he leaned slightly toward the executive next to him, pretending to inspect a champagne glass, his voice lowered just enough to pass as casual.
“hey,” he murmured, tilting his head subtly toward you, “do you know who that is?”
the executive glanced, smiled politely, and shrugged. “sorry, not sure.”
gojo blinked, internal panic flaring in the quietest, sharpest way. “you… you don’t?” he asked, voice a fraction too low, too forced.
“don’t know?” the other repeated, smiling faintly. “maybe a new director or something? I think they’re from the company you just finalized with. the CEO mentioned her earlier.”
gojo’s heart caught. from the company I just finalized with. the words landed heavy, suffocating.
he followed your movements as you strode with a small group of colleagues, poised and efficient, toward the center of the room. the CEO of the company approached first, polished and confident, extending a hand for congratulations.
then you stepped forward, and for a moment, he could only stare, his hand frozen around his glass.
you extended your hand politely, businesslike.
“congratulations,” you said, your tone measured, professional, completely devoid of the personal history that had once ignited every nerve between you two.
gojo blinked, caught between recognition and protocol. he forced a smile that was all teeth and no warmth, and took your hand firmly, the touch brief. impeccable.
“thank you,” he said, voice steady enough for the room to hear, smooth enough that no one nearby suspected the storm behind his eyes.
the handshake ended, but the electricity lingered between you, quiet but sharp, like a wire stretched tight across the room.
he realised: the girl who had hated him, the one who’d refused him a single inch in university corridors, had become someone he could not simply ignore—not here, not in this room, not under these glaring chandeliers.
the CEO offered a polite comment, nodding between the two of you, but gojo barely registered it. all he could feel was the tight coil of something he thought he’d buried: awareness, recognition, a pulse of unresolved history.
you were here, in his world, in a way he hadn’t anticipated. and despite the applause, the celebration, the success he had spent years building, he felt… hollow.
a pang of something sharp and dangerous slid along his chest. the world around him had grown big, bright, and full of acclaim—but none of it mattered, not really, compared to the impossible fact that you were standing there.
and he had no idea how to navigate it.
he didn’t speak immediately after you were pulled away into a conversation by one of his colleagues. after the formalities of the handshake and the CEO’s polite chatter, he drifted back, letting you move with your colleagues for a moment. he watched from a distance, scanning the crowd, calculating the moment.
and then, when you stepped slightly away from the cluster, checking notes on a tablet or adjusting a folder in your hands(revising even at a formal event, how expected of you), he made his move.
the crowd parted almost politely around him, though no one gave him more than a passing glance. he navigated the throng with practiced ease, smile fixed, eyes locked on you. his pulse thudded quietly beneath the surface—a steady, controlled rhythm—but there was a heat behind it, something old and jagged that had never really left.
“you’re… alone,” he said softly, voice just above the hum of the room, careful to mask the quick edge of something he wasn’t ready to name.
you glanced up, raising an eyebrow, lips pressed in that professional line he remembered so well. “i’m not sure this is a good time for… casual conversation,” you said, your tone measured, too polite and ever so distant. exactly how he expected you would be.
“right,” he said, nodding slowly, letting the politeness act as camouflage. “i get it. work, company, big night. all that.”
you nodded, returning to your notes. the tension between you was almost physical. he could see the subtle shift of your shoulders, the way your fingers lingered over the tablet, the faint tightening of your jaw.
and yet… he had to try.
he stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear. “maybe… just for a moment,” he said, “we could dance?”
you froze, one hand still poised above the tablet, the other tightening around your folder. “excuse me?”
“a dance,” he repeated, with that familiar cocky grin — one he’d wielded for years, though tonight it felt almost raw in its honesty. “music’s playing. everyone’s celebrating. nothing official, nothing serious. just… you and me, for a song.”
you looked up fully this time. eyes meeting his, sharp, calculating, and for the first time since university, he saw the same fire that had once made your rivalry crackle. the look was almost incredulous, like you couldn’t believe he’d just asked. and maybe you couldn’t.
“i… i don’t think so,” you said finally, tone polite but firm, a wall against him.
he stepped slightly closer, just enough that the faint scent of his cologne brushed against you. “please,” he murmured, softer this time, “just one. nothing else. just a dance. for tonight.”
the room continued around you both—champagne, chatter, laughter—but the noise dimmed, the edges of the ballroom fading into the background. it was just you and him, suspended in the heat of recognition, years of history and rivalry tightening the space between you.
and for a moment, you considered it.
the fire flared again—not old rivalry, not resentment, not hate—but something complicated, unpredictable. something that made your chest tighten in ways you hadn’t anticipated.
and gojo, reading the subtle shift, let the grin falter into something quieter, more earnest, just long enough for the question to hang in the air.
you hesitated, hand still on the folder, heart beating a little faster than you wanted to admit. there was something in his eyes—no, everything in him—that made it impossible to say no.
finally, you set the folder aside. “fine,” you said, voice steady, though a hint of something softer slipped through. “one dance.”
he blinked, just for a moment, caught off guard by your acquiescence. then that familiar grin stretched wide, just enough to make your stomach tighten, and he offered his hand.
you took it. slow, careful, measured. the room around you blurred again—the laughter, the music, the glittering chandeliers—but this time it was closer, warmer, more dangerous.
he led you to the center of the ballroom, and for a second, you almost felt like university all over again—the stolen glances, the electric tension, the unspoken challenges lingering between you.
the music shifted, a slow, melodic tune that wove itself around your movements. he guided you gently, his hand firm on your waist, your hand resting on his shoulder. it was intimate without words, familiar without familiarity, a delicate tension that neither of you could — or wanted to —break.
“you’ve changed,” he murmured, almost conversational, though the sound of his voice brushed against your nerves like fire.
“so have you, it seems,” you replied, voice level, though your pulse betrayed you. you weren’t sure if that statement was true, but it seemed like the right thing to say.
he smirked, tilting his head slightly, studying you the way he used to across lecture halls and library tables. “i don’t know if i like it… or if i’m intrigued.”
“maybe both,” you said softly, matching his pace step for step.
the dance moved slowly, rhythmically, but every motion carried weight: every glance, every touch, every millimeter of space between you two. years of history, rivalry, hate, curiosity, unspoken admiration—all packed into this single, tenuous moment.
he leaned just slightly closer, enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath without him speaking. your heart fluttered against your ribs, and you reminded yourself to stay composed, to remember why you hated him, or at least why you used to.
but even as you reminded yourself, you felt it —the strange pull, the tension, the electricity that had never fully left the air between you.
for the first time in years, he didn’t look like a polished, untouchable heir. he looked… human. vulnerable, even, if only for this one dance.
with a dull ache in the back of your mind, you realized that this wasn’t just a dance. it was a test. a measurement of what remained between you.
and neither of you could predict the result.
the music wrapped around you both, slow and melodic, each note dragging out the seconds like syrup. gojo’s hand was firm at your waist, hot even through the fabric, guiding without force, while your own rested lightly on his shoulder, weight measured but precise. every step was careful, deliberate—almost like testing the waters, almost like neither of you wanted to fall too far into the familiarity of this proximity.
and yet, proximity had a way of undoing years of restraint.
“you’ve done… well,” he said, low, almost conversational, letting the words hang between you. the corner of his mouth twitched in a grin, but there was something tentative there, something softer than the arrogance you remembered from university.
“thanks,” you replied, careful. “you too. looks like you’ve… settled in nicely.”
he chuckled softly, a sound that felt both familiar and foreign. “yeah. settled. everything’s in place, smooth… too smooth, maybe.” his gaze flicked away for a moment, scanning the room, then back to you. “i thought it would feel different, though. being here, having all of this. you know… everyone praising you. all this success.”
you didn’t answer immediately. instead, you let the movement of the dance keep you engaged, each step deliberate, each turn measured. your pulse was high, the warmth of his body close enough to make your thoughts tangle. you hoped he wasn’t able to feel it.
“doesn’t feel… fulfilling?” you asked finally, voice soft. not accusatory, just curious.
he blinked, caught off guard by the question.
“sometimes,” he admitted, and it was the first crack in his polished exterior. “i mean… it should. it’s everything i worked for. and yet… sometimes i wonder if i earned it or if i just… inherited the stage.” his laugh was short, almost bitter. “funny, isn’t it? how easy it all looks from the outside.”
you swallowed the lump rising in your throat. “i know what you mean,” you said quietly. “hard work doesn’t always feel like enough, even when it’s… everything you’ve got.”
he turned his gaze fully on you then, searching, studying. “and you?” he asked, softer this time. “i imagine you’ve… done well for yourself too. probably better than anyone could’ve expected back then.”
“i… manage,” you said, shrugging just slightly. “i’ve fought for everything. nothing was handed to me. no one’s waiting to open doors.” your voice hardened for a moment, memories of your fight with gojo flooding your mind unnecessarily quickly. “so when people ask if i’m lucky… well. luck had nothing to do with it.”
he nodded slowly, gaze almost reverent. “you always were relentless,” he murmured. “i should’ve… i should’ve said something back then.”
you frowned, confused by the weight in his voice. “said… what?”
gojo swallowed, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through the polished mask he’d worn for years.
“i should’ve… apologized.” the word came out before he could stop it, rough, unpracticed, raw. “for… everything. for being… me. for making things harder. for… not seeing you, really. i was a jerk. i—”
you froze slightly at the admission, feeling the heat rise in your chest. his gaze was earnest, open, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t anticipated.
“gojo…” you murmured, uncertain what to say. years of anger, injustice, hate—all tangled in a knot inside you. the memory of university, of the slap, of every competition and clash—simmered, alive and sharp.
“i know,” he said quickly, as if reading your pause. “you hated me. i get that. and… you had every right.”
the music carried on around you, oblivious to the tension between you. and yet, in that suspended bubble of movement, of brush of skin and warmth of proximity, something had shifted. the apology hung there, raw and unguarded, and for the first time in years, the walls between you felt like they might crack.
your fingers pressed lightly against his shoulder, uncertain, measured, but you didn’t step back. not yet. he assumed that you’ve stopped hating him, which was correct. right?
and gojo, noticing the small pause, leaned just slightly closer, his breath warm near your ear. “i’ve spent years… thinking about how to say it. and now… i guess i don’t care if it’s awkward. i just… needed to.”
you exhaled slowly, the tension in your chest tight and loose all at once. the dance moved on, your steps in rhythm with the music, but the words lingered, charged and impossible to ignore.
for the first time in a long time, the past and present collided, all in the span of one slow, suspended dance.
the music ended, soft notes fading into polite applause and chatter. gojo’s hand lingered at your waist a moment too long, like he couldn’t quite let go, and when he finally released it, the space between you felt heavier than before.
you stepped back, smoothing your dress, forcing your posture upright, but the heat from him clung, like a shadow. your pulse hadn’t settled, and you could tell he was feeling it too—the subtle catch in his breath, the tight line of his jaw, the restless gleam in his eyes.
“thank you… for the dance,” he said, voice low, almost husky, though his usual grin was back, but just barely. it was an attempt at lightness, but it failed. the weight in the air refused to be glossed over.
you gave a polite nod, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “you’re welcome.”
he studied you, just for a beat, his gaze sharp, almost calculating, and then softer, almost vulnerable. “i didn’t know it was you, but i’ve seen your work. you’ve… really built something,” he said quietly, like a statement, not a question. “i mean it. all of it. you didn’t just survive—you dominated.”
you exhaled slowly, because the compliment was dangerous. praise from him had a way of scraping at your defenses, leaving raw patches beneath. “it wasn’t easy,” you said, tone steady, though your chest tightened. “but it was worth it. for me.”
his grin wavered, becoming something close to awe—or maybe envy. “i… never doubted you,” he admitted, “but seeing it—seeing you—it’s… unsettling.”
“good,” you said, sharper than you intended. “maybe it should be.”
the words hit him like a spark. he smirked, a little off-kilter this time, the practiced charm giving way to something more dangerous. “you’ve always had a way of getting under my skin,” he said, voice low, teasing, challenging, but there was an edge to it now, raw and unpredictable.
you straightened, crossing your arms, feeling the familiar fire flicker back. “and don’t think that’s changed,” you shot back, tone clipped, though your pulse betrayed the way it raced.
he stepped just a fraction closer, uninvited but not unwelcome, the tension in the space between you coiling tighter with every heartbeat. “maybe it hasn’t,” he whispered, half a grin, half a dare.
you stepped back and suddenly the room felt louder, harsher, brighter. the applause, the chatter, the clinking of glasses—all of it pressed against your ears like it had been amplified.
your chest was still tight, your pulse quickened in a way that made you uncomfortable. you forced yourself to adjust your posture, straighten your shoulders, smoothed your dress again, anything to remind yourself you were in control.
he still stood there, just a fraction closer than propriety demanded, his eyes fixed on you with that impossible mix of charm and something sharper—something dangerous and familiar. your stomach fluttered against your will, and you hated it.
you hated him.
you repeated the words to yourself like a mantra, grounding yourself. years of competition, of betrayal, of cold, relentless self-assertion had built this wall inside you. you weren’t going to let it crumble now — not over one dance, not over one apology, not even over the way your heart had fluttered in your chest like a traitor.
was it excitement of putting him in his place? or was it just a thought of the slightest possibility of exceeding him even now?
but even as you told yourself this, you couldn’t deny the pull. the memory of university, the long years of competition, the fire of hate mixed with fascination—they all surged to the surface. it was messy. unpredictable. maddening.
“you’ve changed,” you admitted quietly to yourself, recalling his words during the dance. not in a flattering way, but in a way that made your chest tighten. years had polished him, sharpened him, made him… untouchable in a different sense. and yet, in that moment, in that proximity, he was startlingly vulnerable.
and that vulnerability, you realized, was dangerous.
you allowed yourself a small exhale, just enough to remember that you were still standing on your own ground, still built a life of your own, still earned every step forward without his interference or influence. the fire inside you wasn’t extinguished—it had evolved. refined. it wasn’t just hate or old competition anymore, not after this interaction. it was something complex, something sharp-edged that you weren’t ready to name.
you scanned the room, noting the swirl of glittering gowns and polished suits, the way people laughed and clinked glasses, oblivious to the storm that had just passed between you and him. everyone else was distracted. they had no idea.
and maybe that was comforting. maybe that was your armor.
gojo was already pulled into another conversation. you took a slow breath, letting your pulse calm just a little, reminding yourself why you’d come here in the first place — to celebrate the deal your company had just closed, to mark your own success, not to get caught up in the ghosts of the past.
but as you looked over the room, you caught his gaze again, sharp and unreadable, lingering like a shadow that refused to vanish.
gojo raised his glass in your direction, head tilting in a mock-toast, and you grabbed your own from the table to do the same, refusing to succumb under the pressure of his presence.
his blue eyes glimmered with something new.
—
as he gulped down the rest of his drink, eyes never lingering away from yours, for the first time in years, gojo felt a thrill that had nothing to do with power, money, or success. it was about you.
and somehow, terrifyingly, impossibly, that was enough to want more.
