Love the Way You Lie
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Pairing: toxic!gojo x toxic!reader
“High off of love, drunk from her hate, it's like I'm huffing paint and I love her, the more I suffer, I suffocate and right before I'm about to drown she resuscitates me, she fucking hates me.” He doesn’t want you to leave, but he’s constantly pushing you away. Nobody ever said leaving Gojo Satoru was going to be easy, especially when he decides he wants you to stay. Fic inspired by Love the Way You Lie by Eminem.
Words: 5.4k
CW: toxic relationship, fingering, overstimulation, vaginal sex, Gojo being an asshole, slight dacryphilia, breeding, rough sex, creampie
AN: This is my entry for @zorotits Ex's and Oh's collab and I had so much fun writing Gojo being a little shit.
AN2.0: this fic takes inspo from Love The Way You Lie, however there is no physical abuse! This is definitely a type of relationship I think a lot of people can relate to, so if this something that's hard for you to read or triggering, please skip!
Being new to Tokyo Tech, you decided to accept Shoko’s invitation and go out to the bars after work one day. You didn’t expect your life to change that night by meeting Gojo Satoru, who happened to show up, complaining Shoko was keeping the new girl to herself.
The two of you hit it off immediately, finding common ground in your dislike for the higher ups, and your desire to change the Jujutsu world for the better. After listening to his smooth voice and honeyed words for the better part of the evening you went back to his penthouse with him.
It didn’t take long for your legs to be entwined, lips locked in a tender embrace, an instant mutual attraction where your future seemed so bright, high off each other's love that slowly turned into a sickening love-hate.
After a few nights together he went to the higher-ups, insisted he be the one to train with you, to take you out on missions. Even in the beginning, he never wanted you far from him, until he was ready to push you away.
It’s the kind of relationship you hear about, only seen in the movies where after every heated argument you’re pushed against the wall, or on top of him, hands around his throat as he thrusts into you with reckless abandon.
You hate it, but you also can’t help but love how you get lost in each other’s touch after every fight. And you love him too much to truly walk away for good. You say you’re going to leave, but you’re never really gone.
At some point in your relationship boundaries cease to exist, and trust went out the window months ago, the way the two of you were always looking through each other’s phones, computers and even stooping so low as to read work emails.
“Where are you going?” He asks as you grab the duffle bag filled with your things, headed for the front door.
“I can’t do this anymore. I’m leaving.” You answer, cheeks stained with tears.
“No, you’re not.” He gives a wry, pissed off chuckle before another argument sets in.
More yelling, more tears and after it’s all said and done you end up making up the same way you always do, promising it’ll never happen again.
And things would be fine for a while after that - when things were good between you, they were great.
His penthouse would be filled with joy and laughter as you watch movies, holding onto one another, but inevitably you would get fed up, try leaving once again.
Both of your words are filled with venom when you fight, argue and scream, as objects are thrown across the room and broken against the wall in frustration because he’s so intense, and so are you, fiery and passionate. It’s too much together.
You know it but it’s so hard to let go because you love him so much.
He makes a mountain out of a molehill, seeing a work related text from Ijichi on your phone, shattering the screen in the palm of his hand in anger as he accuses you of seeing another man behind his back, and in response you would throw the stand his precious glasses sit on, watching it shatter as soon as it hits the ground. You stare each other down, neither relenting until your bags are packed and you’re leaving once again, falling back into the same pattern.
He says he hates routines but he sure seems to love this one.
“Baby, please, come back,” he begs quietly outside the bedroom door of your apartment when you refuse to let him in after your hundredth break up, “it wasn’t you, baby, it was me. This one’s on me. Let me in, let me say I’m sorry.”
He always comes, flowers in hand. He always brings your favorites.
And after a while of hearing his strained voice through the door, you open it and accept the gift, you always do. He always knows what to do and say to bring a smile to your face, the tears that were streaming ten minutes ago slowly forgotten as he wipes the last of them away with his thumb, promising it’ll never happen again.
He says you’ll both work on your attitudes and tempers, and learn how to communicate better with one another. You both promise to never use such violent words against one another, promise to never say things you don’t mean again.
It never happens, and you’re both at fault.
He kisses you sweetly, whispers sweet nothings and apologies in your ear until you’re writhing in pleasure underneath him, wrapped in his arms in the morning, makeup still smeared from your tears of pain and pleasure the night prior.
But you can’t keep doing this, you know you can’t. You’re too deep in this cycle of destruction and the only way to stop is for one of you to finally walk away.
So you push his arms off of you, “don’t touch me. I can’t keep doing this Satoru.”
“I thought we made up last night, what the fuck happened already?” He’s following you out of your room like a lost puppy, “you can’t leave me. I can’t lose another person I love.”
“I can’t keep going down this path with you. This is the last time. I mean it.”
“Okay.” He answers quietly, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, “we’ll get it right this time. I swear.”
He says he’s sorry, it’ll never happen again, just like all the other times before, even though you know it’s all a lie.
And you always did love his lies.
It only took a few weeks this time, before your back is pressed against the wall of your apartment, tears running down your face, unable to catch your breath as you press your palms into your eyes and tug at the roots of your hair because it’s over this time.
And you really mean it.
Staring at yourself in the mirror of the upscale restaurant bathroom you’re currently standing in, you look over your makeup while adding a little extra lipstick before throwing the tube back into your clutch purse and moving the necklace you’re wearing to sit in the center of your chest again.
You sigh deeply to yourself, this is a place you and Satoru had come to several times during the course of your relationship. You know you shouldn’t be thinking about your ex while you’re out on a date with another man, but the fact that you are likely means you’re really not ready to put yourself back out there.
Shoko had come over a few weeks ago, during one of the times you were having a breakdown, ready to run back to Satoru’s arms. She brought several bottles of alcohol, reminded you of why you broke up again and that you were adamant about not going back to him this time. So, she suggested you put yourself back out there and try dating someone else for a change.
A few too many shots later and you agreed with her, downloading a dating app to your phone, the two of you giggling into the night while making the profile.
That’s how you ended up here, out with a window. A compromise, you told yourself, someone who has a foot in the Jujutsu world you don’t have to lie about your daily life to, and someone who couldn’t manage to be as much of an asshole or nearly as emotionally stunted as the man you fell in love with.
“Everything okay?” Your date asks as you make your way back to the table and take your seat across from him. He’s attractive, clean cut with raven hair, deep brown eyes where you can barely see his pupils but still incredibly beautiful. He works a desk job in accounting for some bank you’ve never heard of.
“Yeah, everything’s great,” you smile at him, “just freshening up my makeup.”
He cocks his head to the side while smiling, “you look great, er, beautiful, I mean.”
You smile back and sigh, the first date you’ve had since Satoru and it’s… fine. He’s nice enough, talks a lot about his desk job, tries to relate to you about how important his own secondary job as a window is in your world. You sit and listen, nodding along as you play with the straw of your drink, hand resting on your chin.
He does most of the talking, asks what kind of movies you like, what your favorite color is. Simple, surface level questions which were meant to get to know one another but you just couldn’t be less interested if you tried.
There’s no passion in his voice, rarely any sort of influx in his tone - just monotone, droning on and on. It’s too much to ask, you know that, to go on a single date and run into someone who could keep your interest; after all, it’s not every day you run into someone who dislikes the higher ups and has a desire to change the way the world you live in works. Hell, you doubt the man across from you even knows there are higher ups in charge.
“Yeah, I’ll have a tequila sunrise, no tequila. That shit’s nasty.”
“Sir, that would just be orange juice and grenadine.”
“Perfect. Extra grenadine.”
You still at the familiar voice coming from behind you, eyes widening as Satoru comes to stand next to you, hands in his pocket, a saccharine smile spread across his face.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” You hiss incredulously, looking at him horrified and embarrassed.
Satoru looks at you from behind his dark square shades with a raised eyebrow, feathering his jaw.
You look good, all things considered, with the dress you’re wearing pinching at your waist, pushing your breasts together in the most alluring way, leaving just enough of your cleavage exposed to still be classy.
You were looking to get fucked tonight and he does not like that one bit.
Satoru let himself fall in too deep with you, in over his head and he tried to push you away over and over again but he also couldn’t bear the thought of living this lonely, sad existence without you. So a tug of war began in your relationship. He knows you’re suffocating because of him, so he tried to stay away this time, but when Shoko let it slip you were going out tonight with a window-
Well, he couldn’t stay away any longer.
He knows you can do better than that - he'd rather accept you running off with Nanami behind his back because at least he would treat you like a queen, in the ways Satoru never could. Hell, he’d even accept you defecting and running off to follow Suguru.
But a window?
That’s just a disgrace.
Satoru points behind him to a woman at a booth sucking her teeth, arms folded over her chest, one leg crossed over the other bouncing in annoyance as she glares at you from across the room, “I’m on a date too. Saw you here, thought I’d come say hi.”
“Great. I hope you treat her better than you treated me.”
Satoru opens his mouth, ready to retort, but your date cuts in. He's clearly nervous, a little sweaty now because he clearly knows who The Strongest is. He shifts in his seat slightly with wide eyes that could bulge out of his head at any moment.
“You’re G-Gojo Satoru?”
“The one and only,” Satoru replies cockily, “so you guys fuck yet or what?”
“Oh my god, Satoru, that is none of your business!”
He laughs, “okay, well I’ll take that as a no then.”
“Take it however you want and just leave us alone.” You’re seething, of course he’s out on a date and of course it just happens to be at the same place you’re at.
Rather than leaving, Satoru sits next to you, making himself at home, spreading his long legs out under the table and spreading them wide, just to take up as much space as humanly possible. He snakes his arm around your shoulder and you stiffen from the contact, unable to help the jolt that's sent between your legs after not having felt his smooth hands on your body for so long when he gently caresses your exposed shoulder with his thumb.
“Who-Why is he here?” Your date looks at you, an expression just as mortified as your own.
“He’s my-”
“Boyfriend.”
“Ex.” You clarify as Satoru rolls his eyes from behind his glasses because that’s just semantics.
Your date purses his lips, looking between the two of you before clearing his throat, “right, well, this is a lot, so I’m going to head out. It was, uh, nice meeting you.”
“Ouch, first date, huh? That sucks.” Satoru laughs loudly as your date exits the booth, grabs his coat jacket and makes his way out of the restaurant.
“Fuck you. Move so I can leave.”
“No, I don’t think I will. In fact, I’ll just have Jazmyne join us, that’ll be fun to watch.” Satoru smiles at you, ready to call his date over to your table.
“You’ve already ruined my evening, Satoru. The least you can do is move out of my way so I can go home alone,” you hiss, blood boiling at his antics. You wouldn’t put it past him to have planned this entire thing just so you couldn’t go out with someone else, “and after tonight I never want to see you again.”
He chuckles, looking at you with a sly grin, “sure, babe.”
“I put in a transfer request. I’m done, we can’t be near each other.”
Satoru stills at your comment, looking you up and down, “to where?”
You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, “away from here, away from you. I was serious when I said I can’t keep doing this.”
He watches you, the way small tears prick the corner of your eyes, the way you swallow thickly and your shoulders slump slightly. You’re telling the truth, you really want to leave and be done. After a few minutes of silence, he moves, letting you out of the booth.
Satoru noticed before your date left that he didn’t bother paying, leaving the bill to you. You’re clearly too upset to have realized as well, so he sighs, pulling out his wallet and throwing too many bills on the table for the dinner you didn’t even order yet. Pursing his lips, he watches your hips sway as you make your way out of the restaurant deciding to follow suit, because there’s no way he’s just going to let you leave.
“What are you doing?” Satoru is standing beside you, on the sidewalk just outside of the restaurant, hands in his pocket.
“Taking you home?” He answers as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.
“Just - go back to your date.”
“Nah, gotta make sure you get home safe.”
There’s no point in trying to argue with him, you’ve learned well enough that it will just result in more tears and pain, and you’d probably give in and take him back at the end of it. So, you make your way to your apartment with him in tow.
And despite wearing heels, the bastard doesn’t even offer to warp you there.
“You know,” he says as soon as you enter the hall of your apartment, “if I were that shitty little window, I would have had you spread out across the table-”
“No, you wouldn’t have Satoru,” you say exasperatedly, opening the door to your apartment, “you would have been too busy arguing with me over something trivial and meaningless.”
“I don’t want to fight all the time.” He hopes you can hear the sincerity in his voice.
You scoff and roll your eyes, closing the door but his foot blocks the path before he easily pushes it open, entering your space, “right, I can totally tell. It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s over, we’re over and I’d like to move on and pretend we never happened.”
“You sure about that?” He smirks, amused.
“Satoru, I don’t care what you think, just leave.”
“Baby, you’re so cute when you lie.” He coos, voice low and smooth as he removes his glasses, crystalline eyes shining in the light of your apartment as he walks over to you.
“You went out with another man tonight, wearing a dress I bought you. You’re also wearing that shade of lipstick I always loved on you when you’d be between my legs,” he runs his thumb over your bottom lip as he watches in amusement, “wearing the necklace I got you for our anniversary. You even let me follow you back to your place without so much as a mild argument.”
You roll your eyes and click your tongue. All of those things were just a coincidence, you certainly didn’t mean to pick out several items he bought for you, and the only reason you let him follow you was because you already know there’s no way to get him to leave you alone despite how many times you tell him to.
“Satoru, I can’t keep doing this back and forth with someone who doesn’t love me, so just get out.”
“You think I don’t love you?” He laughs, “maybe if you keep this shit up I won’t.”
You stare at him, pissed but not the least bit surprised about what he just said, always turning it around. It’s the same thing all over again. He doesn’t want you to leave, but is constantly pushing you away.
“See this is what I’m talking about, every single time, Satoru! You don’t want me so we fight non-stop and then you say things will change and they never do! It’s just lies, all of it has always been lies.”
He stares at you for a long moment, before you’re speaking at the same time.
“That’s not true-”
“Just get out-”
The two of you are arguing now, such a familiar sight, speaking over one another, arguing about your relationship. You’re trying to make a point about how hot and cold he’s always been but his lips are on yours before you can finish your thought, hand on the back of your head, holding you close to him so you won't push away, you’re gripping onto his silky button up shirt with no plans of letting go.
Satoru pushes you against the wall with enough force the picture hanging in your entryway rattles on its hook while lifting you by the back of your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist. It’s an automatic response, the way your hips move on their own to rut against him, you can’t help it.
“Gonna,” he sighs against you, “gonna make a mess on my pants if you keep doing that,” he runs his hands over your thighs, gripping into the plush of your ass, squeezing hard enough bruises begin to blossom around his fingertips.
He pulls away, moving his hands to rip the top of your dress, exposing your breasts as the soft fabric pools at your waist. He’s entranced by you, always has been, especially now, watching the way your tits rise and fall so beautifully with every heave of your chest.
“Look at you,” he coos, hips moving in time with yours, dry humping you against the wall, “can’t go more than a few weeks without needing me.”
“Fuck you,” you’re ripping open his shirt, the small buttons flying out in every direction. Neither of you care, he’ll buy a new one, hands roaming over his sinewy torso and chest.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he dips his hand in the space between his stomach and your thighs, groaning into you as he runs his fingers through your slick folds, his cock is straining against his thigh, so hard it hurts.
Satoru chuckles at your feistiness, he always did love it, “you know,” he slips two fingers in watching with an icy stare, “I can scare away anyone you try to date with a single glance.” He angles his fingers up, running them along the spot that always makes your legs shake and quiver, using his thumb to encircle your clit causing you to clench around his fingers as he smirks at your reaction.
You’re moaning his name, pulling him in closer to you, hand gripping his soft white tresses as you do so. He loves how malleable you are to his touch, the way you melt as soon as his lips are on yours. You’d let him do anything he wanted.
There’s a knot forming quickly in the center of your core. Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand, knows all of the spots that have you crying out, whimpering and convulsing around him.
“Don’t worry baby, I’ll let you cum as many times as I want.” He coos, leaning forward to whisper next to you, his hot breath on the shell of your ear causing a shiver to run down your spine.
He pumps his fingers, brushing your spot every time, he knows you're close, the way you’re mewling into him, bucking your hips as he picks up his pace, the palm of his hand slapping against your clit with every thrust.
“S’toru- I’m-” your words are cut short with a series of broken moans as he continues to pump his fingers, working you through your orgasm, the small space filled with lewd squelching noises as your walls clench and legs tremble around him.
He slows his pace, continuing to rub slow circles on your sweet spot watching the way you arch your back away from the wall, your soft breasts pressing into his hard chest.
“Satoru, wait-”
“Nah. I’m good.” His voice is stern, hardened as he continues to run his fingers along your insides, “I already told you, you’ll cum as many times as I want.”
He knows if it’s too much you’ll use the safe word you agreed on, but he knows you won't. As much as you’re trying to pretend you don’t love what he’s doing to you, he knows you do.
You let out a chain of embarrassing whimpers as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, steadily increasing his pace again until you’re shattering around him over and over and over.
Through each and every one of your orgasms Satoru’s soft lips are on yours before planting several soft kisses over your flushed face before moving down to suck and nip at several spots along your neck, chest and shoulders.
Closing your eyes, you rest your head back against the cool wall before he shoves his fingers in your mouth. You open your eyes and watch him; cheeks pink, lips parted, eyes half lidded, pupils blown with lust watching the way you swirl your tongue around, tasting your arousal as he works to undo the button and zipper of his pants.
You let out a loud gasp when you feel the blunt end of his thick cock slide through your folds, tip teasing your clit, pulling your hips away from him automatically at the sensitive feeling.
Satoru grabs your hip and pulls you forward again as he continues to tease you, sliding his cock up and down your soaked cunt.
“S-sensitive,” you whine, trying to wiggle your hips out of his grasp.
“You can handle it.” He remarks bluntly, leaning forward to suck a tender spot below your ear, “besides, you deserve this, don’t you? Trying to make me jealous, going out with another man.”
“No.” You answer firmly, breathlessly as he leans up, amusement in his eyes at your response, “we’re over. Just-just fuck me already, Jesus.”
He chuckles, letting his cock circle your clit a few times, twitching when he hears your pretty little gasps, before teasing your entrance, “I’ll let you have it when I’m -ah-” you buck up, his tip slipping past your folds. He lets out a loud groan, lips ghosting yours as you slide down the length of his cock despite his words, “ha- you bitch.”
Satoru rolls his hips a few times, both of you moaning at the feeling of having each other just one more time, because that’s all this can be, even if he’s not ready to give you up yet.
“I made you everything you are. Training you, taking you on missions,” he rambles through clenched teeth, pulling out about half way and slamming back into you, “you’re mine, aren’t you, baby?”
“Y-yes,” you answer in a broken whine, moving your hips back to meet his every thrust, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix in a way you know you’ll be sore later “all yours.”
It’s an automatic response at this point, even when you’re delirious, getting fucked within an inch of your life. He gets jealous, seeing you speak with Nanami, smiling at Ijichi and now it’s another routine, a part of your relationship you had come to expect.
“Yeah, fucking right you are, baby,” he groans, slamming his hips into yours relentlessly, watching your tits bounce in time with his thrusts as tears pick in the corner of your eyes, making his own light up as they overflow and spill down your cheek. “You wanna change the world? You know that’s only possible when you’re by my side."
He regrets pushing you away, the way he lets you leave each time your bags are packed. Despite your words, he knows, deep down, you’re not going to take him back this time, but he wants you to, even if it’s incredibly selfish of him - he doesn’t give a shit. Doesn’t want to know or think about you going out, being with someone else, being happier with someone else. Not when you could and should be with him.
“Gonna make sure everyone knows who you belong to.” His lips slam into yours, hot searing kisses on your lips, tongues gliding together sloppily until he moves to nip at your ear lobe, “gonna fill you so full, put a baby inside you - won't be able to leave then, will you?”
He laughs next to your ear, unhinged, high pitched and amused with his own thoughts, his hot breath tickles your neck, sending a jolt right to the apex of your thighs.
“You’re demented. I hate you -shit-” your hands are under his open shirt on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin hard enough to draw blood, he doesn’t try to stop you or use his infinity. He lets it happen, his own twisted form of punishment for watching you drown under him and being unable and unwilling to let you resurface.
Satoru rests his head against the wall, heavy breaths fanning your ear, his cock twitching each time you grace him with one of your pretty moans, the picture frame continuing to rattle with each thump of your body against the wall.
“I hate you too,” he kisses your jaw, licks the trail of tears streaming down your cheek, leaving a kiss below your eye before ripping the rest of the silky fabric of your dress from your waist, letting it fall to the floor, “you take my cock so fucking well, baby.”
You look down, moaning at the sight of where you’re connected, watching the way his thick cock disappears in your cunt. He runs his hand along your abdomen, where the familiar bulge from his cock sits.
“Right there keep going, harder, please.”
Satoru watches your eyes roll back, watches the way the sheen of sweat that’s formed over your body glistens in the light of your apartment. You’re so gorgeous with the blush that’s formed on your cheeks down to your neck, with your sweet, breathy moans that are only for him.
He snakes his arm around your hips, pulling your ass out from the wall, leaving your shoulders connected, putting you in the most severe arch you’ve ever been in. His hands are cemented on your hips keeping you in place while he fucks into you with reckless abandon, throwing his head back, using your body however he wants, however he needs.
“Nobody will want you -ah- if you have a kid with me. Scare off any fucking date you have, you’ll have to stay with me then, won’t you baby?”
The sound of your arousal drips obscenely to the floor below, as he pins your hands over your head, using his infinity to keep them against the wall as he continues to fuck into you. Grabbing your legs from his waist, he pushes your knees down to your face, literally folding you in half, eyes rolling to the back of his head from the feeling of your soft, warm walls tightening around his cock.
“Shit, right there,” you gasp as his hips falter, “don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” Your walls clench and shudder around him, encouraging him to speed up, to cum inside you like he knows you want him to. You’re clenching around him, hard, before you know it, body shivering like you’re seizing, vision going white as your high takes over all your senses.
Satoru lets out a string of breathy moans, brows furrowed at the feeling of your walls squeezing him for all he’s worth, hammering into you until his hips are stuttering and he’s no longer able to hold back.
“Take my cum, baby,” he hisses, thrusts sloppier than ever as he loses himself in you, “I love you so fucking much.”
He lets out a deep guttural groan as his release floods your insides, and you could swear the force shifted the world in his favor. It always seemed to be that way, after all. He wills something to happen, so the universe makes it so.
You’re panting into one another as he continues to slowly rock his hips, fucking his cum deeper inside, making sure it sticks, because he meant everything he said.
Lifting you off the wall, he carries you back to your bedroom and gently lays you down on the bed, cock still buried inside you as he runs his nose along the length of yours, whispering sweet nothings about how he’s sorry, how he misses you and wants you to take him back. This time things will be different, he swears.
You know better than to listen, but you missed this. Missed being in his strong embrace, so you let it slide for the night, indulging one last time before it’s over, really over this time.
You stay like this until he’s hard again, going at a much slower tempo, deeper strokes than before.
Somewhere between the third and fourth rounds, he gets a call, a Curse User running amok and he’s needed to go out and take care of the situation.
“Satoru,” you say, holding the sheets over your frame trying to cover the shame of falling into bed with him again so easily, “I never want to see you again.”
He lets out a mix between a scoff and a laugh, looking you up and down before putting on his little black glasses and giving a nefarious grin.
“Sure, babe. Whatever you say.”
It’s been a little over a month since that night. After Satoru left, you got up and started cleaning your apartment of all the things he had gotten for you over the years. Just like when you told him you were never getting back together, you meant what you said about never wanting to see each other again.
You even followed up on your transfer request, but Ijichi informed you that it could take a few months to make its way to the higher-ups and to count yourself as lucky if they approve the request.
It seems Satoru heard your message loud and clear, since you haven’t heard from him over the last few weeks, taking care to avoid one another in the halls, not sparing a glance at each other during meetings you’re both required to attend.
But that’s about to change as you walk through the halls of Jujutsu Tech, eye’s red, puffy and swollen from crying the last few days.
It’s evening and hardly anyone is around as you open the door to Satoru’s office. You knew he would be here tonight, because you had threatened Ijichi into not doing his paperwork earlier in the day, so you’d be able to easily find him without having to show up at his apartment.
He looks up, a cocky grin on his face as if he already knew you’d show up with a stick in hand, two pink lines on the display.
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