NOTE: because if gege can’t give my boy a happy ending I will… also let’s pretend Gojo didn’t murk tf outta the elders lol.
The sun filtered through the sliding shoji doors of the Gojo estate, casting long, golden rectangular shadows across the tatami mats.
For most, this compound was a fortress of tradition and intimidating power; for you, it was simply home, and a very quiet one at that, until a pair of large, scarred, calloused hands wrapped around your waist.
"Still up this early? You’re far too hardworking for a Lady of the house," a familiar, honeyed voice rumbled against your shoulder.
Satoru Gojo, the man who once held the weight of the entire sorcery world on his shoulders, was now officially 'retired.'
Of course, retirement for the head of the Gojo clan mostly meant he had more time to be a nuisance to the elders and an absolute shadow to his young wife.
He rested his chin on your head, his silver hair now worn slightly longer and less gravity-defying than in his Tokyo High days, tickling your skin.
Even in his late thirties, the man was an anomaly. The Six Eyes still sparkled with a terrifyingly youthful mischief behind his heavily tinted glasses.
"Someone has to make sure the staff isn't terrified of you today, Satoru," you teased, turning in his arms to straighten the collar of his expensive silk yukata.
"Let them be terrified," he grinned, his smile as blinding as ever. "It keeps them on their toes. Besides, I have more important things to focus on. For instance, I’m starving."
—
Breakfast was a quiet affair, or as quiet as it could be with Satoru present. He sat cross-legged across from you, ignoring his traditional grilled fish in favor of the sweets you had tucked away.
"You’re eating dessert for breakfast. Again," you noted, sipping your tea.
"It’s brain food, darling. Leading a clan is exhausting work," he lied effortlessly.
In reality, he spent most of his 'work' hours delegating tasks to the newlyweds, Yuta or Maki just so he could follow you around the gardens.
He leaned across the table suddenly, his face inches from yours. The Infinity was down; it always was when he was with you. "You have a bit of rice right... here."
Before you could reach for a napkin, he leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth, lingering just long enough to make your heart skip. He pulled back with a grin, the slight wrinkles around his eyes and smile made him look far too proud of himself.
—
As your days as ‘Lady Gojo’ progressed, the reality of your position settled in.
Being the wife of the Gojo clan head meant meetings with stern-faced advisors who looked at you with a mix of reverence and expectation. Satoru sat beside you during these sessions, leaning back with a bored expression, his hand possessively resting on the small of your back.
When one elder began to drone on about "bloodline stability" and the "purity of the Limitless," Satoru’s grip tightened slightly, a silent reassurance.
"My wife isn't a vessel for 'stability,'" Satoru interrupted, his voice dropping an octave into that dangerous, authoritative tone that reminded everyone why he was still the strongest. "We’ll provide the clan with an heir when we feel like it. Not because you says so."
He stood up, pulling you with him. "And on that note, we're finished for the day. We have... private matters to attend to."
—
The evening air was cool as you both walked through the private inner gardens. The pressure of the clan was immense, but Satoru never let it touch you.
"You know," he started, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he looked out at the koi pond. "I never thought I’d actually settle down. I thought I'd just burn out or disappear. But then there was you."
You leaned your head against his bicep. "Do you actually want a family, Satoru? Or are you just trying to spite the elders?"
He stopped walking and turned to face you, taking both of your hands in his. The playfulness was gone, replaced by raw sincerity.
"I want a mini-version of you running around this drafty old house, it’s wayy to big." he admitted, pulling you flush against his chest. "I want a kid who has your spirit and maybe just a little bit of my talent. But mostly, I just want more of us."
He picked you up effortlessly, your feet dangling off the ground as he began walking toward the master bedroom.
"Satoru! The servants—"
"The servants know better than to interrupt the Head of the Clan when he’s working on 'succession planning,'" he laughed, the sound bright and echoing through the wooden halls.
As he kicked the door shut behind you, the legendary sorcerer looked at you with a gaze that made the rest of the world vanish. Retirement, it seemed, was the most rewarding mission he had ever undertaken.
a hand drags up your sweaty back, the other gripping the fat of your thigh. gojou fiddles with the clasp of your bra, smacking your hand when you pull away to help him, “stop, i got it,” he pants against your lips, doing it on his own just like he said.
what was once caressing the skin of your thigh, reached under your bra, squeezing the flesh before sliding the straps off your shoulders.
how long had it been? twenty — no, maybe thirty minutes since you’ve stepped into his apartment after another night of him sending a late text, asking for you to come over. only half of your clothes had come off in the duration of your makeout — not that you were complaining. it was just different to see satoru so… patient.
he’s groping your chest at his leisure, shaking his head when you reach to unbutton his shirt, “not yet,” he huffs, ignoring any protests you had in mind connecting your lips again.
a moan slips, two large hands digging into your pants, squeezing the flesh of your ass, guiding in the motion of your hips. gojou doesn’t budge when you place a hand to his chest, ready to take a breath, “toru, come on,” you whine, keeping your distance.
you didn’t understand what made him so needy today but if it went like this any longer you’d be gasping for any form of air.
he’s shaking his head, holding onto you for dear life, afraid that you’ll let him go and he’ll never feel like this ever again. “please,” he begs, your heart aching at how desperate he sounds. he cups your cheek, tugging you down to meet with him, “don’t leave.” the last thing he wants is for you to do is take your lips off his, “more,” he’ll whimper, praying that he won’t need to call or text you over anymore for moments like these. that you’ll just be here when he wants you, when he needs you.
“i’m here, toru,” you assure, pushing back his white hairs that began to stick to his forehead, “i won’t leave.”
pairing: racer!gojo x race engineer!reader
genre: formula 1 au, fluff
summary: he's insufferable (and wants to ask you out) and you're just trying to help him win the championship
notes: formula 1 has ruined my life. probably lots of inconsistencies but i sped wrote this. this turned out a lot longer than i initially planned. gn reader but mention of wearing a dress.
word count: ~3.2k
It's hot.
Your nose scrunches up in mild disgust as you feel a bead of sweat trickle down your neck, quickly making it's way towards the collar of your shirt before it's wiped away with a soft towel.
"Thanks," you mutter, looking up to meet a pair of bright blue eyes accompanied by a swoon-worthy smile. You huff lightly at the wink Gojo sends your way, turning away slightly to let your eyes roam over the rest of the paddock. Your lips turn up into a smile when you catch sight of Geto Suguru walking past your garage, and you return his greeting with a wave of your own before you hear Gojo grumble from his place beside you.
"Fraternizing with the enemy," he says, annoyance coating his words. He crosses his arms, unintentionally flexing and drawing your gaze towards his torso. His black fireproofs fit him snugly, and you find your mouth going dry as you try your best not to ogle him. You wonder if the temperature's gotten hotter. "That's not very nice of you."
"He's not the enemy," you protest, turning away to grab Gojo's helmet before thrusting it into his chest. "He's your best friend."
"Off track he is," Gojo agrees, holding onto the helmet. He pulls you in slightly, raising a brow when you don't immediately let it go. "But on track, he's my biggest competition. So you should be focused on me, not him. He's only a handful of points behind me."
"I'd hardly call one hundred points a handful," you mutter, turning to the side to grab a clipboard. "I think you're guaranteed to win the championship this year. Plus, Megumi's been doing great as well. Kid is in third place and it's only his second year! I think we've got the constructor's in the bag as well."
"All I need is a couple of bad races and next thing you know, Geto Suguru is the 2024 World Champion."
"Bad races," you snort, guiding Gojo towards his car and shoving his balaclava into his free hand. "Gojo Satoru does not have bad races. I don't know how you do it. I feel like you never drop below second place."
"It's all thanks to those genius strategies of yours," Gojo quips, watching in amusement as you shake your head in mild disbelief. There's a soft glint in his eye that you never seem to notice, and he finds himself wondering if maybe he should be a little more obvious about his feelings. (Everyone else on the grid and even the majority of the fans know he has the hots for you, so really, you're just the densest person to exist).
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you say, waving him off as you start to make your way towards the rest of your team. "Pull your suit up and go get settled in."
Gojo watches you for a couple of minutes, leaning against a cement column with his arms crossed. He doesn't know how, but watching you organize the team and go over your notes has become his pre-race ritual. He's so lost in thought that he fails to notice the cameras pointed at him, broadcasting the lovestruck look on his face for everyone watching the race live to see.
"Ready to go?"
Gojo snaps out of his daze when his team principal, Yaga Masamichi, comes up to him. There's a faint smirk on his lips as he motions towards you, his sunglasses hiding the teasing glint that Gojo just knows is present. "Or is there something you need to urgently discuss with your beloved race engineer?"
Gojo rolls his eyes but chooses to remain silent before pulling his balaclava over his head. He's abnormally quiet as he settles into his seat, and when he catches sight of you giving him a thumbs up from afar, he decides to ask you out right after he beats Geto and wins first place.
"Radio check."
"I can hear you loud and clear," you respond, your voice carrying the same lilt that Gojo's does. He laughs quietly, settling into the second position after the formation lap. A glance to his left leaves him scowling when he sees Geto flip him off, and he sighs deeply before realizing that his radio is still on. "Something wrong?"
"Just Suguru being an asshole," he responds, his irritation fading away when you attempt to choke down your laughter.
"Radio is still on," you manage to spit out. "Mind your language."
"You can reprimand me later," Gojo says immediately, well aware that his radio has probably drawn the broadcaster's attention. "Over dinner, maybe? Just you and me in the candlelight at that little Italian place you like."
"Win the race and then maybe I'll consider it," you hum, amusement tinging your words as you shake your head. Gojo can't help but pout when he realizes that you're dismissing his words as a joke, and he merely huffs before turning his radio off and telling himself that he has to beat Geto to the first turn if he wants any chance of winning this race.
It isn't long until lights out, and Gojo finds himself reacting just quick enough to push past Geto's car and take the lead. He catches a glimpse of Megumi gaining on Yuuji, eventually passing him and allowing him to start catching up to Geto. Seeing that his biggest competition is now being distracted by his teammate, Gojo turns his focus back to the track, trying to put as much distance between him and Geto as possible. A few laps pass before he hears his radio crackle to life, and he hears you speak softly so as to not startle him with the suddenness of your words.
"You're seven seconds ahead of Geto," you say, earning a hum of acknowledgement in return. "You also currently have the fastest lap so please focus on managing your tyres."
"The tyres are fine," Gojo's voice trills through your headphones. You glance over at Yaga, grimacing when you see him shaking his head.
"There's been reports of graining," you respond nonchalantly. "Please take better care of your tyres unless you want us to pit you earlier than planned and switch to plan B."
"Alright, whatever," Gojo grumbles, going quiet for a few seconds before speaking once more. "Now let me focus on driving. The sooner I win, the sooner I can see your pretty face."
You roll your eyes at his words, raising an eyebrow in confusion when Yaga fails to muffle his amused chuckle.
"Something funny?" you ask, leaning back slightly to look at the older man. He holds his hands up in surrender, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to the monitor in front of him. You roll your eyes briefly before turning back to the pit wall as well, ignoring the words Yaga mutters under his breath about someone being oblivious.
The race progresses smoothly, and you find yourself feeling thankful that both you and Tsumiki (Megumi's race engineer) have had an uneventful race so far. It isn't until the race is about a third of the way through that you finally turn the radio on again, holding out a hand to stop Tsumiki from doing the same. "Gojo? We are boxing next lap, do you copy?"
"Copy," he responds immediately, his tone uncharacteristically serious for once. "Are we sticking with plan A?"
"Yes, you listened for once," you confirm, nodding your head even though he can't see you. "You have enough of a gap that we can comfortably put you on hards and have you back in the top spot in no time. The track is warm enough for those tyres."
"I always listen to you," Gojo replies without missing a beat. "Anything you say goes."
A deep sigh is all he gets in return, and he can't help the small chuckles that leaves his lips as he finishes his lap and prepares to pull into the pit lane. The stop is performed without a hitch, and you sigh in relief when Gojo emerges in third place, only a couple of seconds behind Megumi. You exchanged nods with Tsumiki, and you turn your attention back to the monitor in front of you as she radios Megumi to come in for his pit stop next.
"Okay, Gojo," you speak when you see Megumi head into the pit lane. "We're getting Megumi in and out as fast as possible. Geto is about ten seconds ahead of you, it's time to push."
"Perfect, but not as perfect as you" Gojo sings, swearing as he takes a turn a little too wide.
"Make that eleven seconds," you correct, biting your lips to hold back a laugh when Gojo swears again. "Go do your thing. I'll keep you updated."
There's no response as the radio clicks off, and you find yourself wincing when you realize that Megumi's slow pit stop has dropped him down to fifth place behind Yuuji's twin brother, Sukuna. You can hear hushed words coming from Tsumiki, and you can't help but feel bad for her predicament considering that Sukuna is the reason that Megumi hadn't been able to finish his race a couple of weeks ago after being pushed off track and into the barrier.
You watch with bated breath as the gap between Gojo and Geto begins to close, and you cross your fingers and hope that Shoko, his race engineer, will choose that moment to call him in for a tyre change. Your hopes go unanswered, and you're on the edge of your seat when Gojo managed to catch up to Geto after ten laps.
The air feels tense as you and Yaga watch Gojo get incredibly close to Geto, separating from him right as he turns a corner to avoid being hit. He's close to him— too close, you think— and you find yourself taking a deep breath to prevent yourself from turning on the radio to tell him to stop being so aggressive. A glance to your right tells you that Yaga isn't concerned with Gojo's driving, so you decide to let him be and see how the situation works out.
Your fingers grip onto your clipboard, knuckles going white as Gojo manages to swerve himself into the spot right next to Geto. You're slightly awestruck as you watch Geto and Gojo race wheel to wheel, their synchronicity impressive as they take tight corners and long straights in unison. There's a brief moment during which you wonder what it would be like if they were teammates, and you shake your head to clear the thoughts from your head. You fear that being teammates could damage their friendship beyond repair.
"There's been contact!" Yaga shouts, snapping you back to reality. You scramble for the radio button, a gasp leaving your lips as you watch Gojo swerve close to the edge of the track. You see Geto move in the opposite direction, and you quickly scan all the monitors before speaking to your racer.
"Gojo, there was contact but the car seems to be perfectly fine," you say calmly, watching as he straightens himself out and passes Geto. "That's P1."
"Great!" Gojo replies breathlessly, his voice sounding slightly strained. "How is Geto? Is he fine?"
You take a second to glance to the side, receiving a nod from Yaga before he motions to the pit lane. A soft call of your name has you turning your attention back to the radio, and you nod to yourself before updating Gojo. "He's fine, slight front wing damage so Shoko brought him in to get that changed along with his tyres. You're in the lead and we're waiting to see what the stewards will say about the incident. We think you might get a warning."
"Alright, better than a penalty," Gojo says, nodding to himself as he takes another turn. "Just a couple more laps and then I can take you out for that dinner."
"I said I'd think about it," you reply dryly, ignoring the giggle that leaves Tsumiki's lips. "Just bring it home. Geto had a bad pit stop so him, Yuuji, and Megumi are like fifteen seconds behind you."
"Whoa! Megumi made it past Sukuna? The kid's got balls."
"Language, Gojo," you remind him, sighing softly. "I'm turning the radio off now. Don't fuck this up."
"Language!" Gojo mocks, his laugh cutting out as you turn the radio off. You spend the last quarter of the race watching Megumi alongside Tsumiki, slightly impressed as Gojo manages to retain his now sixteen second lead. It isn't until Geto manages to break away from Yuuji and Megumi that you start to get nervous, and you watch as he begins to push the last few laps of the race.
"Gojo?" you ask, the radio crackling to life as you watch the monitors. "Just letting you know that Geto has managed to pull ahead of Yuuji and Megumi. I don't think he can catch up but there's still a couple of laps and he always manages to surprise us."
The silence you receive unsettles you, and you mutely turn the radio off and sit back to watch the end of the race. There's not much you can do but rely on Gojo to pull through, and you can vaguely hear Tsumiki talking to Megumi over the radio as he battles with Yuuji. You're on the edge of your seat when Geto manages to set the fastest lap in the race, and you begin to worry that he might be able to catch up to Gojo, only for your fears to be quelled when you realize that it is the final lap of the race.
"Last lap, Gojo!" you call out, turning the radio on in excitement. "Bring it home!"
"Last lap?" he asks, laughing breathlessly when he receives a hum from you. "How far behind me is the next car?"
"Fourteen seconds," you respond, bouncing your knee up and down in anticipation as he turns the last corner. The upcoming straight is the only thing between him and the finish line, and you feel your heart drop when Gojo's car suddenly starts to lose speed. "Gojo? Are you losing power?"
"Nope!" he chirps cheerily, humming softly to himself. "Are you feeling Italian? We can always choose a different restaurant for dinner?"
You do your best to ignore the anxiety creeping up your spine, watching as Gojo trails towards the finish line at what can only be described as a snail's pace compared to the speed of Formula 1 cars. Your eyes widen when you see the gap between him and Geto close, and you do your best to not let your nervousness creep into your tone. "Gojo, is really not the time to be talking about dinner."
"But you're going out to dinner with me right?" comes his immediate response.
"Gojo, please hurry up and cross the finish line."
"Not until you agree to go out with me!" he trills. Yaga shoots you a pleading glance.
"Gojo! Please! Just win the race!" you beg, swallowing harshly as your fingers begin to tap against your clipboard. You catch a glimpse of the amused look on Tsumiki's face, but you're unable to give her the scathing glare you usually would due to the fear you're beginning to feel.
"I can stay here all day," he replies smugly, giggling to himself as he speeds the car up just to slow down once more. "Well I can't, but I can stay here until I cross the finish line in P20."
"Oh my fucking god," you nearly shriek, watching as Geto takes the final turn and begins to head down the straight. "Yes! Yes, I'll go out with you, Gojo! Now please just cross the damn finish line, you dumbass!"
"My pleasure!" he teases, slamming his foot down on the accelerator just in time to cross the finish line a second before Geto. A loud whoop leaves Yaga's mouth as everyone in the pit wall relaxes, too relieved by Gojo's win to instantly realize that Megumi has managed to cross the finish line before Yuuji. The cheers surrounding you sound muted as you put your head in your hands, trying to calm your racing heart and fight off a smile as you realize that you now have a date for the night.
You barely process anything as Tsumiki drags you towards the now parked racecars, and you try your best to ignore Shoko's smug smirk as she whispers into Geto's ear. You think it's safe to assume that she's filling him in on what happened with Gojo during the last lap.
His loud laugh accompanies by a friendly wink thrown your way confirms your assumption.
You stand near the back of the crowd as Gojo stands on top of his car, holding his pointer finger up and posing for pictures before leaping back onto the ground and proceeding to congratulate Geto and Megumi for their performances. You manage to catch his eye after a few minutes, and you feel your face grow warm when a genuine smile spreads across his face, his eyes sparkling as he makes his way through the crowd towards you.
"Congrats on P1," you say quietly, trying your best to ignore the way he's looking at you.
"All thanks to your genius strategies," he quips, repeating his words from earlier. The smile on his face tells you that he wants to make a suggestive comment, and you do your best to redirect the conversation before he can.
"You should probably head into the cooldown room," you comment casually, tilting your head in the direction that Geto and Megumi had disappeared to. "Podium celebration is about to start. Don't forget to get weighed."
"Don't forget to wear that pretty, red dress I like," he responds confidently. A surprised laugh leaves your lips at his comment, and you can't help but shake your head fondly as you finally look up at him.
"You know, you didn't have to give me a heart attack during the race. You could've asked me out after the race like a normal person. I would've said yes," you confess, becoming hyperaware of all the attention the two of you seem to be drawing.
"What can I say?" Gojo responds, shrugging half-heartedly as he takes a few steps closer to you. He's close enough that you can see the varying shades of blue in his eyes, and you resist the urge to jokingly push him away when he loops an arm around your waist. "I tend to have a flair for the dramatic."
"Oh boy, don't I know it," you whisper, not giving him the chance to respond before you loop your arms around his neck and pull him down into a kiss. Both of you faintly register the whoops and cheers surrounding you, and you can't help but break apart from each other as laughter starts to bubble up in your throats.
It isn't until you fully pull away from him and usher him towards the cooldown room that you notice the sheer amount of cameras that have been pointed your way, focusing on the moment that has just been shared between the both of you. An embarrassed noise escapes your lips as you duck into your team's garage, giggling when you hear Yaga congratulating you loudly on your win. A smile spreads across your face as you settle into a seat to watch the podium ceremony, and you find yourself wondering if you and Gojo will manage to evade the press when you finally leave the track.
It's safe to say that the internet has a field day when the news of Gojo's end-of-race stunt and your spontaneous kiss breaks.
tags — fluff, companion piece to modern intimacy so you’re also married in this one, love as annoyance
Gojo looks like he tried to drown himself in the shower.
If you hadn’t just mopped the floor, you might be tempted to give in and beckon him over to cuddle. As it is, your annoyance is only mildly tempered by how adorable he is. You suspect this was his plan all along.
“Go dry your hair,” you tell him coldly, hardly even giving him a glance after his first step into the room.
He pouts, which you were expecting. He should really learn some new tricks at this point. You make a shooing gesture at him to drive home the point.
Instead, he clambers down next to your feet, all six feet and two inches of him compressed down to fit his head into your lap. Gojo’s so lanky it gives you the impression of a Jenga tower collapsing in on itself to watch him get on his knees.
“But you’re mad at me,” he whines. Chilly droplets are seeping into your thighs.
“I’ll be madder if you keep getting my pants wet. Go on, you’ll catch a cold.”
“I deserve it.”
“Gojo.”
You say it as if you’re short of patience, when really, you’re far from it. You’re enjoying this way too much.
He turns his head so he can look up at you. His hair falls into his eyes, making him look like a sad, wet puppy, shivering at your feet for mercy. It’s an act, of course.
He’s the strongest man in the world. Still, you feel your heart melting as you would for any poor abandoned creature. You brush his bangs out of his face, trying to hold onto your weakening resolve.
He knows he’s got you. It’s just a matter of time.
“I can’t live with myself,” he says. “If you’re going to be mad at me, you should just kill me. It would be easier-“
“Don’t be dramatic,” you say, but that’s when he strikes the killing blow.
He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just looks at you with eyes that are suspiciously shiny, his pretty pink lips in a soft frown. You sigh and put the book you were trying to read down.
“Go get the hairdryer.”
Gojo perks up immediately. You stay on the sofa. He sits on the ground between your legs as you run your hands through his hair, moving section by section. It fluffs up as hot air moves over it.
“Are you still mad?”
“Want to take a guess?”
He turns around so fast he almost hits himself in the face with the hairdryer in your hand.
“I’ll never do it again, I swear.”
“You swear?” You’re teasing.
Gojo places one hand over his heart and raises the other like he’s making a pledge. You’re the only nation he’d ever devote himself to, anyway. “You know my motto is happy wife, happy life.”
“I don’t know, actually.” You laugh. “Did you just come up with that?”
“Now you’re just being mean,” he says.
“I’m glad you picked up on it,” you say dryly.
You like him pathetic. It appeals to your worst nature, the one that kind of wants to pinch him just to see him cry. You don’t know when you developed such feelings, and you’re certainly not sadistic towards anyone else, but Gojo just provokes you. It’s what he does. He’s good at being annoying.
But you love that part of him, just as much as you love the part of him that can’t live without your attention.
“You really learned your lesson?” You ask. “You won’t do it again?”
“And go through this again? You kidding?”
You pinch his cheek in annoyance, but he just laughs and wraps his arms around you, ignoring the way you try to wriggle away.
“Your hair isn’t dry yet!”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says, rubbing his cheek against yours. His shampoo smells good. “Happy husband, happy wife.”
warnings: spider-man!gojo, a little ooc gojo, mentions of blood and bruises, cleaning up wounds, some angst -> comfort, play on that one scene from tasm 2
you’re thinking that you’ve hit another dead end when you groan into your sheets from the headache that wraps around your head. it’s mild and dull but there’s still that throb at the back of your consciousness that you can’t exactly take your mind off of. at least, that was what you were telling yourself — normal headaches caused by the stress of university, and definitely not because of a trivial fight with your boyfriend.
the daunting calculus question stares back at you like it was mocking you, teasing you for getting heated over such a small thing when you knew he was only looking out for you with the best intentions in mind.
with a longing look to your abandoned convo with spider-man!gojo, you sink again into your pillow, lights suddenly looking too bright and the music in your ears, jarring. you haven’t seen him in school today, thinking him to be dramatic as always. but he didn’t need lectures and seminars at this point, either, knowing him to be one of the smartest people you know.
in the midst of quelling your headache and thinking of how to apologise, you don’t notice the way your vigilante boyfriend weaves his web around the trees just outside your window, crafting a sweet message of i miss you along the branches and leaves.
a tangle of webs, stuck like honeycomb to some abandoned shed, a tangle of webbing like his hip to yours. tangles of countless webs like his lips along your forehead when you fall asleep too early during study sessions and finally, his heart beating in time with yours.
one fell swoop of a rock from above makes you head tilt in utter confusion; in no world could a rock fall against your window in an arc like that come from anyone of this world, this dimension, yet you know no other person with wall-sticking and web-shooting abilities and it’s then when the complicated entanglement of letters come into view.
your heart clenches up just a little at the sight, a clear indication that it’s satoru from the similarity of his handwriting that’s on his own pre-calc homework. before you can call out, he shifts diagonally outside your window, mask removed and chest heaving at the anticipation of your reaction — both to the tension of your fight before and possibly another thing.
the darkness of the night hardly provides clarity, though, so when you don’t walk away, gojo feels the pull of your eyes on him, drawing him in and trapping him within your own web like prey. crawling along the side of your house, he gives you one more small pleading look: roughed up hair looking a little dirty and his body just aching so much.
“baby . .” he mumbles, blue eyes softening at the sight of you after not seeing you for just one day. it does things to him, “may i?”
but you’re not truly prepared for until your ceiling light exposes the reality of gojo’s situation, what with his cut-filled face and rips all over his suit. it’s dirty, like he was dragged around and made a fool of fighting god knows who, and he’s — oh my god — is all you mouth out, he’s bleeding from a fairly large wound in his side which he has held pressure with his mask.
“’toru!” you panic and quieten down, “oh— oh my god, fuck, fuck fuck, what do i do? satoru— you’re b-bleeding—” and you regret every single word you yelled at him just the day before, now rewarded (or cursed, rather) with his pristine white suit stained a deep, traumatising red. you’re shaking, rightfully so, and gojo is more calm than you, using his free and clean hand to rub circles into your sides.
“breathe, you gotta breathe, princess.”
“n-no— you breathe! you’re l-losing blood!’’ your throat closes in, your head fills with thoughts of his coffin being lowered. you start to sob, “satoru—”
“hey, hey, hey,” it’s both gentle and strong enough to catch your attention, brushing the stray strands from your face and you already lean into the long-awaited touch. his thumb wipes away the tears that already start falling, “’m still here, ’m still here. i’ve tried my best to cover the wound with extra shirts of mine, just stuffed into my suit.”
sniffling, you speak through hiccups, “why the hell do you have extra shirts in your fighting-villains backpack? w-why do you even bring a fighting-villains backpack?”
through the absurdity of it all: fucking spider-man bleeding out on your wooden floor, your tears mixing in with blood, the branches outside starting to snap and fall from the added tension of the webs, satoru laughs softly, fully cupping your face now and trying his best not to grimace at the increasing ache in his side.
“and you always laugh at the weirdest fucking times!” you chastise, still speaking through periodic hiccups and sniffles that you keep stuttering, not even able to smack him like you like to do because you know he hurts, “now wait here, you loser.”
a soft thank you is heard, able to breathe a little harsher now that you’ve gone to find the first aid, anxiety obvious in the pattering footsteps heard. without wasting any time, you grab the kit and let him peel off the suit in the bathroom, not even that much focused on his toned body but the amount of bruises and cuts that litter it.
a new wave of panic settles in your bones, a whimper sounding out when your feather-like touches span over his body.
“satoru . .”
“i’m so—”
“no,” you mumble, getting to work fast by taking out the gauze, bandages, whatever you could use. thank the heavens you at least knew some first aid, wincing whenever he hisses at the stinging alcohol. “let’s not talk about our fight now.”
he swallows, knuckles white from how tight he was gripping the sink, “f-first time you’re not asking me to apologise, heh—”
from behind, he can see you lift your eyes from the careful care you execute on his side, meeting your eyes in the mirror that gloss over again with tears and his heart sinks again.
“p— please don’t make jokes when i’m literally stitching you up, satoru,” you whisper, forehead bumping into his bicep, soft but quick breaths fanning over the skin there, “i don’t wanna talk, not while i almost lost you.”
“but it’s hardly any—”
“gojo satoru!” the shout of his full name shocks both of you, not even sure whether you were feeling angry at the fact that he always downplays his injuries, or sad at the fact that he can’t see that he deserves to be taken care of, too. it was always a guessing game with satoru.
“it’s not just anything, g-god! can you have some regard for yourself?” you don’t care that your words echo off the bathroom walls, its acoustics probably making your wails even more heartbreaking for your boyfriend. “look at yourself and tell me that it’s hardly anything! tell me, say it to my face!”
your nose is red, tear stains already making their home on your pretty face while your fingers squeeze the gauze instinctively, and he tells himself it’s all because of him. it’s all because he didn’t want to be a couple in public in fear that his enemies would target you, because he was afraid they’d use you as leverage, as a decoy, as a trade deal. but that has only made the yearning for you more difficult — pinkies barely brushing against each other, an inside joke swallowed into his throat.
satoru is silent, not sure what he could say that wouldn’t hurt you any further and he turns to lean against the sink counter, bloodied hands staining the marble and suit. and if he looked hard enough, he’s sure he can see the ache of your palpitating heart, bleeding down your chest and pooling at the floor from all the pain he’s caused you.
you dance across the bathroom floor, tiles both cold and warm under your feet as you make your move without any sound, afraid, afraid, like he would get pulled away the moment you touch him.
but he doesn’t go anywhere — just jerking a little at the sudden contact.
“satoru . .” hoarse, tired, it’s what he made your voice sound like just yesterday from shouting, and now, today, “i . .”
you cry quietly but never stop your ever loving hands, holding his face to look up from the shame, and you see how dull his cerulean ones look now, softened but dim, gentle but lacking vivacity. you think maybe it’s the tears hindering it. bit by bit, gojo’s tears fall and he apologises.
satoru apologises over and over, i’m sorry’s muttered into your hair, into your forehead, into your lips and both your hands are shaking like on a first date.
“i just can’t bear to lose you,” you mumble shakily, trembling fingers tracing the lines of his features, “and i hope you know how much you mean to me, and— and how much it hurts to see you so nonchalant about being beaten up like this . .”
you stifle a sob when he kisses your fingers as they travel over his lips, having crossed oceans over his eyes and mountains through his nose. his lips, his lips look just like the sanctuary of everything soft and good and righteous, that sliver of perfect time like on juliet’s balcony.
“i’m sorry, i am so sorry, darling. i—” gojo sighs, pain now turning numb but still trying his best not to move an inch, “i guess i just become so used to taking care of aunt may that, i . . am not used to being taken care of.”
you nod in understanding, “i’m sorry too, for lashing out, for dismissing your efforts to make me feel safe. you were only looking out for me.”
gojo’s eyes avert from yours again, looking down at the one thing that signified his place in society — never that much seen, not much recognised, but still revered as the city’s hero. it represents anything from something as simple as getting back an old lady’s handbag to fighting off a scientist-turned-reptilian. but it also represents the why.
why he fights so hard. a star student like gojo definitely wouldn’t pass off the praises when he saves a falling civilian, but it was much deeper than that when it came to it, wanting the city he grew up in to be safe and to seeing the grateful, relieved expressions of passers-by.
it was for you, when the last face he sees before he closes his eyes for the night is your pretty one and he’d be damned if that changed any time soon.
that night where satoru is all patched up and lying like a statue because he’s afraid he’d tear your nicely done stitches (you assured him it was mediocre at best), his hand finds your hand naturally again, playing with the strands aimlessly.
all thoughts of the news articles showing his cheeky spider mask expression, to the funky poses he pulls (from a camera so high up it would really only be one person who plants it there), phases out the cool, suave spider-man persona and centres the stupid, goofy, annoying gojo satoru.
and you smile softly to yourself knowing you’d be the only one to see gojo satoru like this.
“i should’ve told you why; it wasn’t fair of me to just stop acting like we’re head over heels— hey, why are you smiling?”
“no reason.” and your smile brightens.
“that’s not no reason,” he matches your grin, pulling on your cheek playfully before his hand goes to your nape like clockwork and tugs gently. like you were just a normal couple after a long day, without any indication of a gash along his side, but gojo satoru was far from normal in the grand scheme of things, “there’s always a reason.”
“is that the motto that the great spider-man lives by?” you inch closer to him, smiling from above in the dimness of the room so much so that it makes you look like royalty and him a mere commoner.
“uh . . no, pretty sure it’s ‘with great power comes great responsibility’,” gojo jests with sarcasm laced in his voice, roping you in and you, letting yourself get caught always as you lower yourself on his chest, but not before your lips meet his in a soft, quiet dance with you both being the only ones in the ballroom.
the rush of love that fills you overflows in the way your mouth moves against his, not wanting this sweet, sweet dream to end. especially if you come out empty-handed at the end of it all with spider-man’s, gojo’s blood on your hands, so you keep your eyes shut tight with a promise to yourself to welcome him with welcome arms the second, third, fourth, nth that he climbs through your window, bloodied and tired.
“i’m still here,” satoru whispers against your lips when he feels just how tense you are, easing out the lines of your face and holds you in that moment, held frozen in time like a scene in a snow globe, “i will be here for as long as we are alive,” he takes your hand and puts it up to his heart to remind you of its status, of how it speeds up a tad bit when you stroke his chest, “and i am alive whenever you are near.”
the quiet moment is shared with another soft kiss, features now relaxed when you smile against his lips and inspire the next few moments of endless laughter and jokes, falling into the same breath when sleep catches up.
in the bathroom lies his white-turned-red suit, left abandoned for the normalcy you both chase in your bedroom for at least a few hours until spider-man has to go back to being spider-man and you have calc questions to finish up on. but until then, with the alarm you set at 6am in secrecy before his classes, you’d wake up just to soak and hand wash the red out, returning the blue and white suit back to its glory.
when satoru wakes up the next morning, he finally knows why your warmth in bed was missing for a brief moment of time when he sees the clean folded up suit with his mask on top. you don’t miss with a sandwich either, and a cheeky note — all the best for your most dreaded class!!! if u can fight and come out alive i believe u can survive prof. masamichi lol.
and he laughs softly, sparing a glance to your sound, peaceful self and he finds a renewed sense of the reason why he decided to become spider-man.
spider-man— satoru seals his love with a kiss to your forehead and a messy mumble of i love you, long overdue from the night before.
does anyone else have thoughts about gojo satoru who wants to buy you sexy lingerie for your birthday present, but doesn’t know what your bra or panty size is.
the man is walking into the lingerie store with his head held up high and his cheeks tainted red. all the women, and their significant others look at him with a confused yet intrigued look. why‘s this extremely handsome man walking into the lingerie store alone?
with long confident strides, this man walks to the set aisle. his blue eyes widen behind the designer sunglasses, and it isn’t the price tags that fluster him—he could care less about the insane price tags—what flusters him is the material and style of the lingerie.
he swallows, hard. he suppresses the shaking of his hand and reaches out for the dark blue lingerie before his also very blue eyes.
"excuse me sir?" a woman appears out of no where, breaking goio‘s impure imagination of you in said lingerie. "is there anything i can help you with?" she asks, cocking a brow.
gojo puts the lingerie down and stammers, licking his lips for a moment before coming to his senses. "i— yeah." he thinks hard and keeps his mind straight. "can i have this for my girl?"
"sure," she nods, taking the lingerie from his hands. "this is our limited edition, by the way. we only have two of these ever made by our famous designer.." gojo could honestly care less about what she is saying. all he‘s thinking of right now is taking the sinful piece and placing it on you as soon as possible.
"yeah." he nods, already looking around for another sexy set.
"the person you‘re with must be really lucky." she chuckles, still doing whatever the fuck she‘s supposed to do and looks at him. "this is one of a kind." she further adds. he nods again. "so i‘ll have to ask.."
"what‘s their size?"
gojo stops.
"what?"
"it‘s limited edition, so there‘s no size other than this. we have to make sure it‘s their size." she looks at him.
gojo halts. his whole body shuts down as he looks at it. he hadn‘t thought that part through. he thought that if he‘d see what looks good, he‘d immediately know it was made for you. but for god sake, now that he’s here, he doesn’t have a single clue.
"i— um—" he stammers, trying to explain it. "it‘s—"
"do you not know it?" she frowns. "i mean it‘s okay. you‘d just have to ask her then come—"
"no! i know it!" he cuts her off quick, pressing his fingers to his temple. "it‘s— it‘s.."
without even realizing it, gojo brings up both his hands to the air and makes an odd shape. the woman watches and eyes him oddly as he continues to further describe the shape.
"what‘re you doing…?"
"i‘m trying to show you." without a single ounce of shame, this man then puts his hands on the bra and feels it.
he‘s trying to figure out your tit size with his hands.
"yeah, that‘s it." he nods, sure of himself. then he grabs the thong. he places it flat on his palm and sees the size before nodding once again and smiling to the woman. "mhm, that‘s the right size."
the woman stares at him, bewildered. her jaw hangs agape, throat dry as she watches gojo move around and look at her. "yeah, that‘s it. it‘s her perfect size."
without even awaiting her response, he proudly takes the set from her and walks away, not even bothering to check the number tag for the size as he goes around and does the same for every piece of lingerie he encounters.
the people look at him, meanwhile he couldn‘t give a damn. he simply walks around, and purchases what he found with pride, leaving the store and the people in there more confused than they ever were in their lives.
and when the man gives it to you during your birthday, somehow, some fucking way, it‘s actually the right fucking size. and when he knows about it, he‘ll smugly tell you the story about how he found out your size and you‘ll just be left embarrassed the next time you‘re walking into that store with him.
Tags- Gojo x fem reader, angst, self depreciation/suicidal stuff, miscarriage centered chapter
Synopsis- a look at both of their POVs, the aftermath a month later.
Satoru is devastated but so are you but worse...
22nd October, 2016...
22nd October of 2016 was when it happened. The Legal Separation between you and Satoru Gojo.
Fortunately or not but the whole fiasco never went outside the borders of The Gojo Estate, despite it involving a few 'third parties'.
Luckily, the servants of the house were on a week off or else by now you and Satoru would have become the new gossip of the town no doubt.
Mr Ijichi, an assistant director at the Jujutsu High and a very close and trusted accomplice of your husband... or ex husband, you can't decide.
He is probably the only person who knows about it, not in detail of course since Satoru is very specific on who he wants to be close with but yes, you suspect Mr Ijichi is a bit aware of what went down because he was the one driving the car on that day.
You also suspected at first that maybe Ms Shoko is also in light of the events because she is definitely someone who gets her information one way or the other and the fact Satoru might have... no! He has infact told Shoko about all of it.
When Satoru introduced you to the World of Jujutsu Society, Ms Shoko was the first he got you to meet with and since you have had good relationship with her.
Since your legal separation happened, Shoko and Ijichi have been a mediator, set up by Gojo, for communication since, you know it and so does everybody who knows Gojo Satoru, he's too prideful to go back wagging his tail where he's not needed. Or so he thinks.
Satoru thinks because of his work schedules, he is not able to spend time with you as your husband and not able give you the life you hoped for which definitely affected your mental health (as predicted by his six eyes) and thus you decided for a divorce.
But the new information that he got on that day from you made him realize maybe he was indeed wrong thinking that you are perhaps different from other women who only fell for the looks but mostly for the money and the status of the Gojo family in general.
He never had plans to marry in the Jujutsu Society or The human World (haha as if!) be it arranged or love. He did not care. He had plans to become the wise Sage or a Monk of wisdom, a teacher/mentor like in video games. But all of it changed when he met you, a simple average human.
You were the one who taught Satoru so much. You were the one made him realize that even the strongest sorcerer has a soft heart that has the capability of falling in love.
But what made him solidify his love, making him realize that yes he has fallen in love and he is glad it is you was when you (unknowing about his past with the incident with Riko and Toji) made him realize the fact that all humans are not same.
This was the last and final straw that made the fall for you really bad and sick. He wanted to marry you. But he never said it out loud because of the repercussions you would have to go through and that is why he protested as well when you brought up the topic of marriage.
But none of it matters
None of it
Not anymore
He is done
All humans are the same.
Greed
Lust
Money
Fame
Power
All humans are indeed the same...
Satoru has no interest in any sort of relationships anymore. Everything feels sour and bitter. All he knows now is his role. His role as the strongest sorcerer, a responsible mentor, as the Head of his Clan, Face of the Jujutsu Society altogether. These are his priorities.
Gojo would very much prefer a permanent sort of freedom from you now knowing your true face.
'Ugh awful, so disgusting. A whore? Really? Is that all you thought of yourself y/n when you voluntarily got physical with me before marriage?', he said to himself in his head.
The only reason Gojo sent Separation papers instead of divorce was because it would startle both of yours and his families. The society isn't kind to divorced women and that too the ex wife of the six eyes sorcerer. Oh what a wonderful way to make him vulnerable for the curses and curse users!
He can say whatever he want against you but somewhere, inside that beautiful big and kind heart of his, he wants to talk to you, talk things out, talk about your feelings and wants to listen. But his mind refuses to let down his walls, ever gain!
Days following the 22nd October, you mostly stayed locked up in your room while Mr Ijichi packed all of your husband's clothing and accessories.
Mr Ijichi isn't stupid, he knew it must be really hard for you that is why he tried his best to enter, collect the things and exit as quietly as he could.
'A whore? Why did you even say that you bitch. You really don't deserve ANYTHING in this world!', your days began with endless self loathing.
5th December, 2016
A lot happened in the month following the incident.
Most of your days were spent in self loathing because after your miscarriage at just 3 months, the doctor had declared that you're (uterus) not strong enough to carry a child.
These words are something a woman is most scared to ever hear in her life. And you were one of the unfortunates.
You had stopped taking your post miscarriage medications. You're mental health got worse as well due to continuous thoughts on how you acted up on impulses and ruined the only good thing you had. Days followed you couldn't even get the strength to get up from the bed every morning. Fading appetite lead to refusing food which further resulted to visible sunken cheeks.
The house staff didn't knew anything that took place during their week off and they had noticed changes around the household. From your behavior to the absence of the Head of the house. They were also worried for your health and didn't knew what to do.
The head of staff, Mr Kawaguchi, decided to make a call to the Master of the house since it is normal for him to be absent from the house due to his work.
Kawaguchi- Good morning Satoru sama. This is Kawaguchi from the house.
Gojo (a little annoyed)- I'm busy, call me later.
Kawaguchi- Sir actually there's a grave problem at the house.
Gojo (mockingly)- what? Did someone die or something? This better be important-
Kawaguchi- sir its Y/n sama. Y/n sama is not in good health.
Gojo (worried)- w- what?! What're you stupids doing? What happened to y/n? Is she okay? What did the doctors say?
Kawaguchi- uh about that sir... y/n sama didn't let us into her room and actually we had to... (nervously looks back at the the other staff, everyone nods)
Gojo- huh?
Kawaguchi- sir, we had to break into y/n sama's room. We have called the doctors and they'll-
Gojo- break into the room!? What is hap- Nevermind, I'm sending someone. You lot stay there and look after y/n till the docs arrive!
Kawaguchi- y- yes sir!
Gojo was now left worried at what the hell did he just hear on the call. 'What are you upto now y/n'. Is this some trick to bring him back out of pity and pretend nothing happened? That you, a month ago, didn't just randomly demand for a Divorce.
He was really annoyed and even if he wanted to go to the house he couldn't due to being out abroad for missions. He has been busy with overseas missions mostly after the separation.
He decided to send Shoko for a look and to inform him 'EVERY SINGLE DETAIL', verbatim.
Shoko was sitting at the morgue, smoking, when she received a call from Gojo.
'Ha? Gojo? At this hour?', she wondered.
"Yea?", Shoko said with her usual nonchalant voice.
"I need a favor"
Gojo explained her the situation to which she agreed without hesitant, knowing what has been going on between you two and now this.
When she arrived at the Gojo Estate, she was welcomed by the worried faces of the staff that guided her to your room.
She started observing every detail. She saw the entrance door, broken. The inside of the master bedroom, dim, even with long sliding doors facing the beautiful and bright gardens. There were half eaten bowls of food. A trolley with clothes overflowing.
Shoko turned to looked at you and felt her heart wrench a little at the sight of you. She was horrified and worried. She is usually a very calm and relaxed person but you, you really made her loose her calm.
She knows you and has seen you in your good days. In light yellow summer dress beside Gojo, all smiles to now? Like this. Dark circles umder eyes and slight sunken cheeks, chipped lips and several medications.... wait what medications?
There were already a doctor present in the room who declared that its just dehydration and that it'll be okay with a few medicines.
The servants thanked the doctor and ordered the medicines.
Meanwhile, Shoko was already in a shock. The medicines piled up beside you on the bed and the bedside table were... post miscarriage pills. She enquired the whole situation from the staff.
All while, the two women staff got you up in the bed and gave you water.
Eyes half open, you recognised what was happening. You passed out of dehydration and couldn't hear the knocks of the servants outside for breakfast. They were worried and tried the other doors, through the garden, but they were locked. So they broke the entrance and found still in the bed with pills surrounding you. They all got worried and one called the doctor and the head called Gojo.
Shoko noticed you were up and ordered the ladies to open the curtains and windows and leave her for a while. Afterall she's got some questioning to do in Gojo's behalf.
She extended her hand to hold your left hand. It seemed cold to touch. "Hello y/n. Remember me?"
You struggled to open your eyes and look.
"Don't worry i won't ask you how you're doing", she joked.
"But i will ask about the medications y/n. Do not lie. I'm a doctor too", Shoko knew now is not the time but she also knew that if you were pregnant then why didn't you tell Gojo because he obviously didn't know.
Your ears started ringing. And eyes welled up. You were reminded of it again. You wanted to just lay back down and bury yourself in the warmth of the blankets.
But the cat was out of the bag. Shoko is a doctor. She knows medicines. You cannot lie. You cannot hide. You have to be strong, you have to show her that everything is okay and Satoru needn't be worried, not like as if he is anyway.
"Please.", you mumbled, she had leaned in and caressed your knuckles. "Shoko, do not let anyone know of this, i beg of you."
"Shhh", she shushed you, "Don't say that. I won't. I promise"
She continued, "... but what about Satoru? You can't hide it from him. The child was his as much as it was yours-"
You cut her in, "Shoko i wanted to tell him! I wanted him and only HIM to be the first to get the news of the...", you struggled but continued, "...of the pregnancy. I got to know myself in the 2nd month and he was coming back home just next month, it was all perfectly going... until it wasn't".
Shoko was visibly upset. She didn't knew what to say. All she was aware of was the things Gojo told her...
He went home with gifts and souvenirs for you, you gave him divorce papers, he tried convince you not to, you weren't ready to listen, you said some hurtful things, he realised his place and agreed for separation over divorce.
Looking at you she can tell you would breakdown any moment.
And she was right.
You did.
You broke down in tears.
Hyperventilating you mumbled, "Shoko they said i can't have children! Can you believe that! I can't have kids! And I'm so stupid i brought out a f-fucking Divorce paper when Satoru came home."
"He was so angry with me i could feel it even if he wasn't! I'm stuck Shoko! I-i just - just want to go hide under a rock or maybe i should just kill mys-"
Shoko pulled you in for a hug. "Ah! Thats enough. That's enough. Shush now. Its okay."
contents: sfw, fluff, some banter, established relationship, a lil suggestive (squint and tilt your head to see it), reader helps satoru shave, gn!reader, 700+ words
a/n: if you saw this before, no you didn’t
“i’ve never done this before so if i nick you don’t get too upset.”
the soft morning sun shines brightly through the open blinds, inviting itself into your shared home to illuminate a beam of light that reflects off satoru’s back casting a toasty glow on his exposed skin.
still in your sleepwear, your right hand beholds an sophisticated-looking razor and within your left holds shaving cream with small pecks of the fluffy substance, still hidden in the nooks of your fingers after you had smeared a small amount on the lower half of satoru’s face.
he yawns with fatigue still evident in his voice, “didn’t you tell one time that you were a barber?”
you snicker, “i was tipsy on that date night; just making shit up to impress you.” you place the shaving cream back on the bathroom counter that you currently sit on, “wait…how do you even remember that?”
a smug grin tugs the corners of his lips, “the real question here is, how do you remember it? you were pretty drunk after all.” tilting his head to the far right to look at his reflection in the mirror behind you.
“tispy.” you correct sternly. craning your neck in the same direction to block his view, “i was tispy, not drunk.” a sour expression washes over your face with one eyebrow slightly raised up.
satoru tucks his bottom lip in between his teeth. taking his time to trail his eyes from chest and back up to your face.
you’re pissed off. just how he likes it.
“stop eyeing me like a piece of meat and let’s just get this over with.” you wrap your legs firmly around the lower half of his torso which leads to him fitting more snug in between your legs.
you softly grab at the back of his neck inching his face closer to yours. “you’re feisty this morning, trying to get in pants already?”
you feel your eye twitch but allow his comment to hang in the air. your eyebrows push together to concentrate as you bite the inside of your cheek while making feathering strokes downwards on his skin, letting the razor collect hairs and shaving cream with every movement.
with each passing stroke of the razor, satoru hums out of contentment. he lets out small huffs of air every once in a while his minty breath fans against your skin.
his sapphire eyes bore into yours. he watches you in awe, slowly turning into putty in your hands, the tips of your fingers that gently grazes across his jaw sends shockwaves throughout his body.
the way your lips juts out slightly makes him want to steal a kiss or two from you but he knows he’ll never hear the end of your scoldings.
it seemed as if the world had stilled. removing everybody else except for the two for you to bask in each other’s warmth and comfort.
the comfortable silence was mellow and relaxing. . . until. . .
“do you usually tell guys that you’re a barber?” a small frown appears on satoru’s face, his eyes twinkling with curiosity as his hands absentmindedly rub your thighs up and down.
“not all the time, but you’d be surprised at how often it led to a second date.”
he pouts now, with his hands halting, “you’re seriously talking about dates with other guys while shaving my face?!”
“you asked! and my methods obviously work since i’m here acting as your barber.” that shuts him up quickly, because you are here with him, in his bathroom, indulging in acts that would be considered as intimate.
after tossing his head left and right with your hand to carefully inspect your work, making sure you got all of the hairs, you apply a small amount of aftershave; humming a tune with glee after not noticing him wince meaning you didn’t manage to nick him after all.
“andddd…done!” you press a fleeting kiss onto his lips before hopping off the bathroom sink and placing the razor on the counter.
“by the way, you do realize you don’t grow enough facial hair for me to be doing all of this?” he turns to you with a playful smirk, crossing his arms over his exposed broad chest.
“i’ll have you know that i mainly stay freshly shaven to please my one and only.”
faux innocence clings onto your words, “well i heard from someone that your ‘one and only’ wouldn’t mind a stubble every now and then.” you leave the bathroom with your words etching into satoru’s mind.
satoru smiles to himself, wondering how he got so lucky with you.
reblogs and feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3
