warnings: mild sexual content, suggestive themes, playful innuendo
synopsis: you’re a gold digger with a big heart, not that satoru minds.
“you’re lucky you’re pretty,” gojo drawls, lifting his sunglasses just enough to give you that annoyingly smug smirk — the kind that makes strangers on the street glance over just to see what’s going on between you two. his eyes, that impossible crystal blue, glint with amusement. “or else i would’ve left your spoiled ass at gucci.”
you glance over your shoulder, not even bothering to slow your walk. the sound of your heels clicks against the pavement like punctuation marks. “then why’d you pay for my heels?”
behind you, he jogs a few steps to catch up, paper shopping bag swinging in one hand, his white hair swaying with every movement. people part for him without even realizing it. “because,” he says, like it’s the simplest truth in the world, “i’m a generous, selfless man.”
“mm. sure.” you stop at the corner, finally turning to face him. the city lights bounce off his shades and the bag in his hand. “has nothing to do with you watching me try them on with your jaw on the floor?”
gojo lets out a dramatic gasp, hand flying to his chest. “accusations. slander. how dare you?”
you grin, slipping your arm through his. his bicep flexes just a little as if on cue. “you liked it.”
“obviously.” he leans down until his lips are just brushing your ear, his voice dropping to a low murmur that only you can hear. “next time, try ’em on without the skirt.”
you roll your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips gives you away.
---
gojo had known from the second he met you that you had expensive taste.
the kind of taste that said don’t talk to me unless your credit limit clears.
he liked that.
no — he loved that.
because for all his power, all his charm, all his strength… he needed someone who wouldn’t be impressed by it. someone who’d raise an eyebrow at his limitless card and say, cool. can it buy me a penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows and blackout curtains?
and you? you were that someone. you walked into his life in designer heels and a look that could cut glass, and somehow, instead of making him feel smaller, it made him feel like himself.
---
“you know people talk about you, right?” he says one night, sprawled across your couch like he owns it, scrolling through your online cart with his long fingers, counting the zeros like it’s a math equation. “they say you’re only with me for the money.”
you don’t even blink, lounging across from him with a glass of wine in hand. “and?”
gojo snorts, tossing his phone aside like it’s unimportant. “and i tell them they’re probably right. but they’re broke, so why would your broke ass date them?”
you laugh — loud and unbothered — and straddle his lap right there on the couch. his hands automatically find your hips. possessive. playful. protective.
“you really think i’m with you for your money?” you ask, cocking your head, nails scratching lightly at the back of his neck.
he raises a brow, lips curling. “you always want something. the bag. the necklace. the trip to bora bora—”
“you suggested that one.”
“true. but still.”
you drag a finger down the bridge of his nose, your voice softening just enough. “i want you.”
he grins, smug and boyish all at once. “well, duh.”
“but also the necklace. and the bag. and the trip.”
gojo throws his head back with a laugh that vibrates through your whole body. “you’re insane.”
“you love it.”
“unfortunately.”
---
you show up to a mission site once — heels on, nails done, designer shades covering your eyes — and nanami actually groans the second he sees you.
“she’s here?” he mutters under his breath.
“hell yeah she’s here,” gojo says proudly, waving at you like you’re a damn celebrity. “and she looks expensive as hell.”
you adjust your sunglasses and blow a kiss just to be a menace.
nanami walks away without another word.
---
that night, gojo takes you apart on satin sheets in your shared room at a hotel so expensive even the curtains probably had a price tag that would make people cry. the sheets are cool and heavy, and the floor-to-ceiling windows reflect the glitter of the city skyline while his body pins yours down.
his hand curls around your throat, thumb stroking the skin just beneath your jaw, while his other hand presses against your hip to keep you from writhing. he leans in close, his lips brushing yours as he whispers, “you think you can just show up dressed like that, huh? knowing every guy in the room wanted to look but couldn’t?”
you moan into his mouth, smirking through every kiss. “you like it.”
“i love it.” his teeth graze your neck, his voice rough now. “keep showing up like that and i’ll start bringing you to every mission.”
---
gojo isn’t stupid. he knows exactly what you are.
you’re a little spoiled. a little sharp. you talk back. you want the finer things. you want to shine.
but you’re also the one who holds him when the jokes don’t land.
who stays up late waiting for him to come home.
who kisses his bruised knuckles and calls him babywhen the world tries to treat him like a god.
and he would drop every yen he’s ever earned if it meant keeping that look in your eyes — the one you get when you’re curled against him in the dark, when no one’s watching but him.
---
“what do you want for your birthday?” he asks one night, fingers lazily drawing circles on your bare thigh under the sheets.
you hum, pretending to think. “besides a yacht?”
“besides a yacht.”
“just you. and maybe a watch.”
he groans, head falling back on the pillow. “knew it.”
you laugh, curling into his chest, your fingers brushing over the lines of his jaw.
“you’re such a brat,” he mutters.
“but i’m your brat.”
gojo smiles, kissing the top of your head, his eyes softer than they ever get in public.
This summer I just want to shop for clothes, buy cute shoes, try new hairstyles, do pilates, and somehow never see my bank account involved in any of it. ✿
Sooo I’m very much into rich men I mean who isn’t??? But my standards and hopes are so unrealistic so I like to write about it!
Meeting a rich, handsome man is my dream and I know everyone is gonna think that his money would be my number one goal but it won’t be from what I’ve heard and seen some rich guys are surrounded by fake and rude people especially the women they date but a lot of wealthy men actually end up wanting someone kind, emotionally intelligent, calm, and genuine!
Personally I’d gladly be a personal fuck toy for a rich guy and then a loving and caring girlfriend that’s what I like about myself! Yes I’m overly freaky and have some…interesting kinks! But I’m very sweet and emotionally intelligent as well as selfless I do like to fantasize about being an obedient puppy for a rich man I would absolutely do anything he asked (within reason of course) I’d walk around naked wearing a collar if that’s what he wanted or if he wanted me to suck his cock whenever he wanted I’d do it happily! Anything to keep my handsome hard working man happy!
