Mai's affection problems are so interesting to me. After being neglected and abused yet still viewed as an object for affection in the Zen'in clan for her whole life, the only person who loved her leaves her, and Mai stops believing she deserves love at all, but she still wants it. She calls herself pathetic and weak and tries to pretend she doesn't need anyone else, that they'll leave her, too, but she still acts unnecessarily flirtatious to the people around her. And it's especially interesting in ships!! To prove to Mai that it's possible to love her and that anyone would, it would take someone really stubborn... maybe someone loud with red hair who hits people with hammers.. or someone from one of the clans who wants to do things "the right way" after his mother was thrown away....
LeeAnna and NoriMai are essentially the same dynamic because we have a soft, rich, adopted/bastard boy, healing the soul of a sweet, broken younger sister who would much rather be spending her time in shopping sprees than doing whatever fuck their families forced them to.
putting the yass in yassou // gojo x reader; drabble
Weirdly Specific Short Drabble Scenario #1: Teaching Gojo how to Greek Dance
Rating: T
Word Count: 997
Additional Notes: Brief NoriMai as context as requested by @ripstefano. Reader is an amateur/retired professional dancer. Kind of caved into the stereotype of Greek stuff by putting Greek friezes as dividers I'm so sorry.
You are Formally Invited
To the Wedding of Kamo Noritoshi & Zen'in Mai
15 June 2026
Corfu, Greece
"Huh," I murmur, peering at the invite-- somewhat unsure whether or not it had found its intended recipients at all-- but nope, there's my name and Satoru's emblazoned in gold foil on the front of the envelope.
Granted, I wasn't even aware we knew them well enough to get a wedding invite in the mail, but then again, with the names, it made sense-- get someone from each of the Big Three clans there.
"Hm?" My husband, bowl of ice cream in hand, deposits his chin onto my shoulder, peering down at the paper in my hands-- thick cardstock, calligraphied, with the scent of something woodsy, yet floral. "Damn-- I didn't know they were like that."
I snorted, slotting the card back into the envelope and carefully sorting it into my important mail stack on the kitchen counter. "No-- they were. You were just too busy saving the world to notice."
Satoru pouts a little, making a whining noise that emulated that of a dejected puppy. "Still, though-- look at all of the youngins, gettin' hitched and everything. Makes me feel old."
I sigh wistfully, leaning back against him. "Isn't it good to grow old in your line of work?"
He burrows further into my hair, nose poking at a particularly ticklish spot on my neck. "Yeah." His voice is muffled.
"You big baby," I say, but without any bite, attempting to shrug him off-- a futile endeavour that only served to make him cling to me harder.
"C'mon, we have to figure out if we're going to RSVP," I tell him.
"Why Greece? Isn't that a bit far?" he wonders out loud.
"Baby, we eloped on a mission to Hokkaido," I remind him, amused. Money isn't really an object-- what with Satoru's inheritance and everything. He's just nosy. And as for the why-- "It's pretty obvious they don't want their clans getting their noses stuck in the wedding planning."
"Huh," he says, emerging from his sanctuary of my neck. "I guess that does make sense."
"Says here they have a discount on the resort," I note. "And they want to know if anyone else wants to do cruise tours of the island so they can book ahead of time-- and ooh, they're bringing in a Greek band for the reception."
"Oh?" Satoru perks up a bit at the mention of a cruise tour. "D'you think they'll have dinner on the cruise tour? And didn't you learn some dances before?"
I did, for a year-long cultural dance module from my university days. "A bit-- but the main party dance will be the kalamatiano line dance anyways. Maybe the zeibekiko too as a slower freestyle for the finale."
"It's all Greek to me anyways," he jokes, and I playfully swat at his shoulder, something he can block with ease with Infinity.
"You--"
"Noo, I'm sorry baby," he pouts, holding his hands up in the universal gesture of defeat, and turning his puppy eyes on me at the same time.
His gaze is softer these days-- without the scintillating glare of the Six Eyes that feels like he's scrutinizing me down to my bones.
"Wanna teach me the dances?"
I abandon my bloodthirsty rampage immediately-- Satoru knew my catnip was dancing. Always had been. Even when I had been forced to quit by my clan, citing a need for more sorcerers during Sukuna's rampage across Japan. And by the time peace came back around, I'd spent my body on the fight against curses-- bad right knee, weak left ankle, an ache in my lower back that came back every time I slept funny-- and I knew even before Shoko came back with the results, that I would never dance professionally ever again.
It had been Satoru, of all people who was able to comfort me--
I know what it's like to lose your purpose and passion.
He'd sacrificed Six Eyes to defeat Sukuna.
And so, in the aftermath of a war against curses, we learned to be human together.
"One, one, two, One, one, two, One, one two," I count out for him-- our hands joined, the living room furniture cleared off to the side.
He's grinning at me. I don't think he's paying any attention to the steps.
It's almost a little flattering, the way he looks like I've hung the moon and stars in the sky, even though we're dressed in our PJs in a bare living room, and I'm trying to teach him enough that we could get along well with the locals at the wedding in June.
"Lead with your right foot, then left foot behind," I note, "then right foot again-- baby, are you even listening?"
He leans forward and presses a kiss to my hand where our fingers are linked together. "'F'course," he murmurs.
Despite myself, I blush a little, and flirt right back by opening his palm to kiss his hand. "Okay-- and then every step after that will be to the front, till the count of seven."
"Mhm," he's rubbing at the skin over my knuckles.
"And then you step forwards, eight, then rock back, nine, and bring your left foot back ten," I continue, guiding our steps around the living room. "Then right foot back for eleven, and rock back twelve, and then repeat--"
"I think I have it," he says.
I don't expect anything less-- even without his Six Eyes, Gojo Satoru wants to be known as a prodigy. And I believe him, even though he's been spending more of the lesson looking at my face, than at the steps I'm demonstrating. Because Gojo Satoru is competitive enough to want to be the best at anything he can still get his hands on the title of-- husband, lover, and apparently now, Greek dancer.
"Music?" I ask him.
He grins. "Sure. Turn it into a party, just for the two of us."
