Thew1zzywiz - The_W1zZy_

✦┊JJK MEN ACCIDENTALLY CONFESSING ! (pt 1)

✦┊REQUESTED ! (pt 1)

feat.┊satoru g., suguru g., kento n., choso k.

a/n┊i love this overused little trope so much

‎‎‧ ˚ ₊ ꒷ ꒦ ︶ ︶ ︶ ︶ ︶ ꒷ ꒦ ︶ ︶ ︶ ︶ ︶ ꒦ ꒷ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⊹

Satoru Gojo

Suguru Geto

Kento Nanami

Choso Kamo

TAGLIST ⭑. @drxgonspine, @dabis-favorite-slut

🐈‍⬛🤍

last week to get Gracie 🖤

★ thinking about satoru who simply laughs whenever someone points out that you and him are an odd pair — likely wondering what an overly loud and boisterous person such as himself is doing dating you, who is the complete polar opposite.

because while he may excel in social settings due to years of practise being the centre of everyone's attention; you, on the other hand, struggle to speak to or even hold eye contact with anyone other than him, often opting to nervously fiddle with the sleeves of your shirt and hide behind his tall form instead.

and all he can think about is how they would react if they were to see how dramatically the roles are reversed the moment the two of you are alone, his shy little girlfriend whispering the dirtiest things into his ear while she rides him senseless.

“mmph— fuck, baby, y’gotta slow down,” satoru pants breathlessly, big hands gripping at your hips in a half-hearted attempt to stall your frenzied pace. “otherwise ‘m not gonna last.”

“you’ll last,” you assure in a deceptively sweet whisper, hands splaying over the pale, hard planes of his chest as you bounce up and down on his cock like your life depends on it. “but if you don’t, i’ll just keep going until you get hard again.”

and he just gapes up at you dumbly, drool threatening to spill from between his parted maw as he is rendered unable to do anything other then lay there and take it, the waterlines of his snowy lashes prickling with shiny tears from how good it all feels.

if he could collect himself enough to speak again, he'd probably gush about how much pride he takes in the fact that he’s the only one who gets to see you like this; the only one who you feel comfortable enough coming out of your shell around in order to show him the real you.

and oh, is the real you a sight to behold — head thrown back in ecstasy as you use him as your personal dildo to chase your own pleasure, plush tits bouncing freely with the force of each of your movements… and, most importantly, not a hint of your usual timidness to be seen.

but of course satoru won’t say any of this to whoever is currently inquiring about your compatibility. instead, his lips will simply quirk up into a small, wry smile and he’ll settle for muttering out a vague “we mesh together pretty well, actually.”

The quiet nights where you’re already asleep by the time Satoru comes home. His mind and body are tired but he doesn’t forget to stay silent as to not wake you as he enters the house. A fond smile on his face when he sees the food you left out for him with a small note. The thought of you bustling around the kitchen brings him more peace than he could imagine. The little things you do to make his life easier for him, he couldn’t be more grateful to have you in his life. After a much needed shower he makes his way into the shared bedroom. His eyes softened at the sight of your book left open on the bed, a sign you had fallen asleep waiting for him even though he tells you that you don’t have to. To not worry about him. Once he made sure to mark the page he crawls into bed lightly, only pausing when you stir in your sleep, holding his breath as if he might wake you. He allowed himself to exhale when you finally settle, a faint smile on his face when you sees the look of contentment on your face. It wasn’t until he finally laid down next to you, his arms wrapped around your waist as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. It wasn’t until the faint scent of your shampoo that filled his nostrils so he could finally relax that he knew,

He was finally home.

Steps to Write a Genuine Platonic Relationship

1. Establish the Foundation

Define Their Connection: Decide what brings these characters together—shared history, common interests, or a deep emotional understanding.

Set Boundaries: Clarify from the start that their relationship is non-romantic, avoiding any lingering tension that could be misread as attraction.

Give Them Complementary Strengths: Show how they support and challenge each other without romantic implications, emphasizing mutual respect.

2. Shape Their Role in the Story

Decide Their Impact: Determine how their bond influences the plot—do they solve problems together, serve as each other’s moral compass, or push each other toward growth?

Avoid Romantic Clichés: Refrain from using traditional romantic tropes like longing glances, accidental physical tension, or excessive jealousy.

Show Their Value Beyond Love: Let their relationship be crucial to the story in a way that isn’t reliant on romance or tension.

3. Build Their Dynamic

Use Natural Banter: Let them have inside jokes, tease each other, or share moments of camaraderie without any romantic undertones.

Create Moments of Deep Understanding: Show how they confide in one another in ways they wouldn’t with others, reinforcing their trust and emotional closeness.

Let Them Have Other Romantic Interests: This solidifies that their bond isn’t about unspoken attraction, making it clear that romance isn’t lurking in the background.

4. Define Their Chemistry

Make Their Interactions Unique: Ensure they have a specific energy that distinguishes their bond from romantic connections in the story.

Emphasize Loyalty Over Possessiveness: They can care deeply about each other without feelings of possessiveness or unresolved tension.

Show Physical Comfort Without Romance: Casual, platonic touch like a ruffling of hair, a side hug, or a reassuring pat on the back can reinforce their connection without romantic connotations.

5. Demonstrate Their Impact on Each Other

Let Them Grow Together: Show how they influence each other’s decisions, ambitions, or emotional development without needing romance as a motivator.

Create High-Stakes Moments: Put them in situations where they rely on each other, proving their bond is just as deep as any romantic relationship.

Allow Conflicts Without Romantic Resolution: If they fight, let their reconciliation stem from their friendship and values rather than an underlying romantic interest.

6. Develop a Satisfying Arc

Decide Their Long-Term Dynamic: Whether they remain lifelong friends, drift apart naturally, or take different paths, ensure their bond leaves a lasting impact.

Showcase Their Relationship’s Meaning: Highlight how their connection was vital to their growth, reinforcing the importance of strong, platonic love.

Avoid Unnecessary Romantic Subtext: Let them stand as proof that deep, meaningful relationships don’t need romance to be powerful.

Examples of Strong Platonic Relationships

1. Film/TV Examples

Frodo & Sam (The Lord of the Rings): A loyal, emotional bond built on trust and shared hardship.

Robin & Steve (Stranger Things): A brother-sister-like friendship that develops beyond a possible hetero-romance.

Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes (Captain America): Sibling-like love based on support, teasing, and mutual admiration.

2. Literature Examples

Duke the Guarder & Dawn Demiss (The Guardians of Camoria series): A deep friendship based on emotional intellect, trust, and shared insecurities.

Jo March & Laurie (Little Women, after rejection): A lifelong friendship that remains strong despite romantic expectations.

Harry Potter & Hermione Granger (Harry Potter series): A close friendship built on trust, emotional support, and respect without romantic tension.

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forever gorgeous. feat. gojo satoru

synopsis: comparison is the thief of joy — in which you feel insecure, but luckily you have the prettiest man to ever exist to comfort you

content: gojo x reader, angst w comfort, face dysmorphia, insecurities, fem!reader, comparisons to others, crying, mental health issues, and self-hatred

a/n: this may be self indulgent...anyways, i just wanted to let you all know that you're fucking beautiful in your own special way. everyone is different and that's what makes us gorgeous. you don't need to compare yourself to other people because you were born with features made just for you. i know it's useless when someone tells you "you're pretty so you don't have to be insecure" because that changes nothing, but it is possible to learn to love yourself for who you are. i love you ❤︎

you stand in front of the mirror, your gaze locked on the reflection staring back at you. every line, every shadow, every imperfection catches your eye. you lean in closer, inspecting the fine lines etched across your forehead, the dark circles haunting your eyes, the uneven texture of your skin. each flaw, no matter how small, feels magnified under the harsh light, glaring at you, accusing you.

your fingers trace the contours of your face, searching for something familiar, something you can still recognize as yourself. but the more you look, the more alien this face becomes. you notice the dullness in your eyes, the way your lips seem to have lost their fullness, how your once-bright complexion has faded to a pallor. you pick at the imperfections, the scars, the blemishes, as if by doing so you could somehow erase them, erase the person you've become, or the person you've always been.

but it never works. the more you scrutinize, the more you find to despise. it's as if the mirror is a portal to another world, a world where you’re distorted and twisted, where every flaw is exaggerated, every imperfection a glaring fault. you feel trapped, caught in an endless loop of self-criticism and loathing. the person in the mirror is a stranger, someone you can’t relate to, someone you’re ashamed of.

you step back, but the image remains imprinted in your mind, haunting you. you don’t recognize yourself anymore, and the thought terrifies you. the person you used to be is slipping away, and all that’s left is this reflection, this version of you that you can’t stand to look at.

it's tearing you apart, this obsession, this constant need to pick yourself apart piece by piece. but you can’t stop. you don’t know how to stop. so you stand there, day after day, searching for the person you once were, and hating the person you’ve become.

you feel the tears welling up, a slow, inevitable tide that you can’t hold back. standing there, staring into the mirror, you’re overwhelmed by a crushing sense of despair. it's not just the reflection that you can’t stand—it’s the thought of anyone else seeing it, of anyone else having to look at you the way you’re forced to now. the idea of their eyes tracing the same flaws that you obsess over, the same imperfections that you magnify in your mind, is too much to bear.

you breath catches in your throat as the first tear slips down your cheek, and then another. the tears blur your vision, but it doesn’t soften the image in the mirror. if anything, the distortion makes it worse, turning your reflection into something even more grotesque in your mind. you press your hands against your face, trying to hide from the world, but mostly from yourself.

it breaks your heart, this self-loathing. because deep down, you know it’s not supposed to be this way. you know it's not something you can change, it's just something you have to learn to live with and that makes it even more unbearable. the thought that this pain is, in some twisted way, your own doing, or at least your own responsibility to fix, weighs on you like a leaden cloak. you know you could learn to love yourself if you wanted to, but the sheer weight of that knowledge only adds to the hurt, making the tears come faster, harder. you don't want to love yourself, not this version of you at least. you don't think you deserve it.

you sob quietly, the sound almost foreign to your ears, like it’s coming from someone else. but it’s you—it’s all you. you're trapped in this body, this mind, this reflection that you can’t escape. and the pain isn’t just in how you look; it’s in how you feel about it, in the heartbreak of knowing that you’ve become someone you don’t want to be, someone you’re afraid to let others see.

the tears keep coming, and you let them, because at least in crying, you can release some of the pressure building inside. but it doesn’t bring relief, only more heartache, as you stand there, unable to face yourself, unable to bear the thought that anyone else might have to as well.

you don’t hear him at first. you're too lost in your thoughts, too caught up in the tears that won’t stop falling. but then, suddenly, you sense him—gojo, walking into the room with that easy smile he always wears, the one that usually makes your heart skip a beat. he's about to say something, maybe a joke or a playful comment, but then he sees you.

his smile falters, replaced by a look of concern so deep it cuts through your haze of self-loathing. “hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice soft and full of worry as he moves closer to you. the sight of him, the sound of his voice, only makes the tears come faster, and you turn away, desperate to hide from him, to keep him from seeing you like this.

but he’s already seen. “what happened, baby?” he asks again, his tone more urgent as he reaches for you. the touch of his hand on your shoulder sends a fresh wave of pain through you, not because it hurts, but because you know he’s looking at you—really looking at you. the thought of him seeing you the way you see yourself, seeing all the flaws you can’t stand, makes your chest tighten with panic.

“please, don’t,” you manage to choke out, trying to pull away from him, but he doesn’t let you go. he's persistent, as he always is, and his arms wrap around you, holding you close despite your attempts to escape. “hey, it’s okay. whatever it is, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice steady, soothing, but all it does is make the tears fall harder because nothing about this is okay.

you can’t stand it, the idea of him having to see you like this, broken and falling apart over something you know you shouldn’t let consume you. you struggle weakly against him, but he holds you tighter, refusing to let you go. “i'm here,” he says softly, his voice right next to your ear now, and despite everything, despite how much you hate yourself in this moment, a part of you can’t help but cling to him, needing his strength.

he doesn’t ask again what’s wrong; he just holds you, letting you cry into his chest, his hand gently stroking your hair. you're overwhelmed by the kindness in his touch, the way he’s there for you even when you feel so unworthy of it. It’s almost too much to bear, this tenderness from him, but you let yourself sink into it because there’s nowhere else to go. his arms are a refuge from the storm inside you, and even though you don’t understand how he can still want to be with you after seeing you like this, you’re grateful for his warmth, for the way he loves you even when you can’t love yourself.

a few minutes pass, the silence between you filled only with the sound of your quiet sobs and the steady rhythm of his breathing. gojo doesn’t say anything; he just holds you close, his arms strong and reassuring around you. you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek, steady and calm, a contrast to the turmoil inside you. the warmth of his embrace slowly starts to ease the tension in your body, his presence a balm against the rawness of your emotions.

you can sense his patience, the way he’s waiting for you, not pushing, just being there. it's that patience, that unwavering support, that finally makes you feel safe enough to speak. you pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him, and you see the concern in his eyes, the way he’s completely focused on you, ready to listen.

“i just… i don’t know how to explain it,” you begin, your voice shaky, but he nods encouragingly, his thumb gently brushing away the tears still lingering on your cheek. “i hate myself. every day i wake up and i hate myself. i hate the way i look so much that it hurts...it's like i don't even know who i'm looking at and it doesn't help that i have to see it everyday. it's not something i can run from, it's apart of me forever and i hate it.”

he doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t try to correct you or tell you that you’re wrong. he just listens, his blue eyes never leaving yours, his expression so attentive, so full of empathy, that it almost hurts. you take a shaky breath and continue, the words spilling out now, all the fears and insecurities you’ve been bottling up inside. “and i've tried so hard to love myself and find beauty in what i see, but i can't. nothing about me is pretty. i sit in the mirror for hours trying to convince myself that any part of me is worth looking at. there has to be something about me that isn't ugly, but there isn't. and i hate going out because if i see it, then everyone does. i have to go out surrounded by people who are normal, people who are naturally beautiful and i have to spend hours putting on makeup just to feel presentable...even that doesn't work anymore.”

as you talk, his arms tighten around you just a little, as if he’s trying to shield you from the pain of your own words. he doesn’t say anything yet, just lets you keep talking, letting out everything you’ve been holding back. there's a comfort in being able to voice these thoughts, to share them with someone who cares, someone who won’t judge you for them.

“i just don't understand why me,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “why do i have to look like this, why are you with me, just why me. and i'm scared...that maybe i'll always feel like this and that maybe you'll see me the way i see myself.”

for a moment, there’s only silence, the weight of your confession hanging in the air between you. but then he tilts your chin up gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. his expression is soft, tender, but there’s also a seriousness in his eyes, a depth of emotion that takes you by surprise.

“first, thank you for sharing all of this with me. i know it wasn't easy,” he says quietly, his voice steady but full of feeling. “second, i see you, all of you, and i love every bit. it breaks my heart hearing you talk about yourself like this, my love, because you've always been so damn beautiful to me. i'm sure even if i saw you the way you see yourself, i'd love you the same, if not more. i just wish you could see yourself the way i do.”

he pauses, letting his words sink in, and then he adds, “i know you don't believe me and that's something we'll work on together because i will forever be by your side. but i do want you to know that you are forever gorgeous to me. and not just to me, to anyone with working eyes and everyone who loves you. beauty is never just what you see in the looks of someone, but in what you see when you look deeper beyond the surface. from the inside, out, you are beautiful. every piece of you, i love endlessly and nothing will ever change that. ”

you can see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he’s willing to stand by you, no matter what. it's a comfort you didn’t know you needed, but now that it’s there, it feels like a lifeline, something to hold onto in the darkness. you feel a small sense of relief, a lightness in your chest that wasn’t there before, and you realize that, for the first time in a long while, you’re not carrying this burden alone.

Gojo loves to suck on your hardened nipples while you ride him. The way his face gets smushed into your soft, warm and jiggly boobies gets him real hard. He gets intoxicated by the the sweet mild milky odor of your tits while he sucks them. As one of his hands roam around your lower back mapping his territory, the other refuses to stop playing with your breasts. He treasures them fr. Starting off slow, he would softly kiss your perked areolas, rock hard from the cold temperature in contrast to your warm bodies working their way to attain unity, then he would draw his tongue slow and deliberately, teasing the hell out of you, edging you as you feel his cock exploring deepest corners inside you, filling you up so nice, that your mind gets blank, unable to decide which pleasure to focus on. And if that ain't too bad, he would, next graze his teeth over your sensitive ends, making your body jolt from the sudden increase in pleasure, he would keep on teasing and sucking, occasionally nibbling on it, gentle enough not to hurt you, causing you to clench around his shaft, to the point you could trace his veins pulsating over there. When he finally pulls away to get some oxygen, a thin string of his saliva gets elongated from the glossy mess he did on your breasts, to his lips. And it would fucking drive him over edge to cum right on that moment. You would feel his load spurting inside of you as a strained throaty moan escapes his lips, warm and fuzzy, making the movements of you bouncing up and down on his girth sloppy. His cum would leak messing the bed and you both, and the sudden friction caused by it, made his cock dive even more deep, constantly hitting on your g-spot till you ride down your own wave. It's going to be hard work dealing with the aftermath of both of your unison. He looks even more fucked than you, catching his breath, face flustered, sweaty as he proceeded to swipe back his silver locks falling on his brows. Yet. This is the third time. And yet. He's not done. As he flips you in a sec, so your back is now pressing the mattress. His cock is still inside you as his mouth finds his way to your sore nipples again. And with a harsh thrust, series of another harmonious melody starts slipping out of your lips.

A/n- I see a pervert peeking.....hi

✎ throughout heaven and earth

- gojo satoru x reader

a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you

genre: feral!gojo, injured!reader, hurt/comfort, exponential fluff !

note: we need a gojo who will go ballistic against the higher-ups for dragging you in their mess :) refer to this for the reader's CT, and this loosely takes place after the events in heaven's fury, and the epilogue is based on this very brilliant idea :))

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Something isn’t right.

You should’ve known it was strange when they assigned you with a sudden mission with little to no briefing. You should’ve gone through with your gut feeling and informed Satoru about it.

Because if you did... now you wouldn’t be running for your life like this, frantically dodging the hacks and slashes of this chainsaw-like cursed spirit that was evidently not a Grade 2 as what you were told.

“Ah!” you yelped as the sharp ends of its body struck your shoulder, leaving you bleeding openly. This was no small wound—it was deep enough to make you stagger.

You had to do something about this because merely avoiding wouldn’t save your life. You had to come back in one piece. You have to— for your baby and Satoru.

What if I can’t? The sheer thought made you tremble. Your baby boy was still so little and he needed you more than anyone, and Satoru...

God, you couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Not again. He couldn't handle losing someone again, not after all he had already lost.

You gripped your whip—your cursed weapon—tightly amidst your bleeding hand. You had barely enough cursed energy for a domain expansion that guaranteed a sure-hit effect. You have one shot. This was all or nothing.

But you weren’t sure if it would work, because you were on the verge of exhaustion, and this was a special grade curse. Your domain expansion was definitely not as refined as the Satoru’s, and this monster was an enemy of his class.

“Satoru...” your voice came out in a sob. You were terribly scared, and honestly you were entitled to. You weren’t even sure you would survive this at all, and all you could think now was your husband’s silly grin and how much you loved him.

And right afterwards, you saw the cursed spirit lunging at you, and with everything left that you had, you screamed—

“Domain Expansion: Transcendent Veil!”

“Gojo-sensei, p-please come back... Nee-san is...!”

Satoru was in Kyoto when he received that call from Megumi— and that moment shattered his world as he knew it.

“Megumi, what is it?”

“She w-was sent on a mission... but then it's a special grade— a-and... she... she e-exorcised it b-but—!”

He teleported without second thought to Tokyo. His mind was blank, the only sound he could hear was his own violent heartbeats, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

“The cursed spirit got her too… It made a cut on her neck.”

His most precious wife... the one person he must protect at all cost, was now possibly—

“Megumi.” He saw him sitting on the hallway of the headquarters’ hospital the with his son on his lap—you had asked him to look after your baby—and the boy looked up to him.

“Gojo-sensei...” Megumi appeared shaken, and seeing that, Satoru immediately took his child from his hands, pulling the little kid into his embrace.

“Go back home, I’ll stay here.”

In all his life, Megumi had never seen Gojo Satoru as calm as he was now. He looked fearsome, as if he was in the battlefield.

“Ichiji.” Satoru turned to the other man rigidly standing next to Megumi, causing him to stiffen up even more. He didn’t say anything further as he pat his little son’s back, and yet Ichiji knew all the same what he wanted from him.

“It’s from… the higher ups, Gojo-san.” Ichiji gulped as he said it. “Y/N-san was suddenly called in yesterday night, and she was told it was an urgent mission.”

“Who called her?”

“It was…”

When Ichiji told him the name, suddenly Satoru barked a snort, and his lips curled into a manic grin. It was a menacing sight for both Ichiji and Megumi, as he looked almost unhinged if not for his secure grip on his son.

But contrary to what they were thinking, what filled Satoru at that moment was pure, unadulterated fury. A righteous sense of being crossed—because, how fucking dare they?

Those higher ups first pressed him to execute Yuji, and when he paid them no mind… now they staged this atrocity against you, most definitely to serve as a warning to him.

“Ichiji, tell them that I’ll pay a visit tomorrow. And drive Megumi home tonight.”

He would make his point loud and clear. He would show them how wrong it was to ever test him. But…

The plan barely satisfied him. They hurt you. His heart finally lurched as he processed the fact… when he heard his baby’s soft whimper against his shoulder.

. . .

You sustained serious injuries, but finally, you were out of critical condition.

When Satoru was allowed to see you, you were still connected to many monitors and breathing machine. He brought your baby too inside, and upon clearly seeing both of them, suddenly your eyes welled up with tears.

“Hey…” his hand gripped yours reassuringly. You sniffled when the strain of your broken ribs made you almost cry out in pain, and Satoru immediately calmed you down.

“Sweets— hey, don’t cry, yeah? You did good.” He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “You did freaking good. You’re okay now. You’re going to recover, yeah?”

You gave him a tearful little nod, feeling so grateful that you could see him again. And unbeknownst to you, seeing you like this broke his heart too.

“Mwa...” your baby, cradled in your husband’s arms, suddenly stretched his tiny hands towards you, and Satoru handed him over for you to hold.

With the little strength you possessed, you reached out to stroke his soft cheeks. Your son... the thought of how close you came to death brought another tear rolling down your cheek.

All sort of thoughts went through Satoru’s head at the sight. His wife, the mother of his son, who is proud of him for everything he does—

—and their sorry asses dared to hurt you.

Suddenly all he saw was red.

And he swore he would make it right to you. Soon.

“Ah, Satoru-kun… to what I owe the pleasure?”

“…I’ve heard that it was you who assigned that special grade mission to my wife, correct?”

“Oh, that. First of all, I must apologize for my... oversight. We were misinformed... Our scouts made a mistake while filling the files.”

Satoru was trying not to lose his composure first thing after coming here. Really.

But the knowing tone of the elderly Jujutsu Commander only fueled his rage, growing stronger the longer he stood behind this stupid paper divider.

“So it’s a mistake, huh?” he repeated in a satire manner. “Then do you know that my wife has just gotten out of her maternity leave this week?”

The man behind the divider chuckled quietly. “Satoru-kun… I know the sentiment. Of course you’ll be worried, and it did end in a rather… unfortunate incident. However, jujutsu sorcerers are bound to their duty, and your wife cannot rely too heavily on her status as a member of the Gojo clan to be excluded from—”

Fuck it. He had no patience any longer.

“Seems like I need to be a lot rougher, after all.”

Suddenly the room crackled with electricity and the Jujutsu Commander gasped at the sense of foreboding he felt. “Gojo, you can’t—!”

“Heh, but I can.” He let out the most satisfied laugh before opening his palm and chanting in a lower voice: “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

In a matter of seconds, the audience chamber of jujutsu headquarters turned into a pile of destruction. The commander barely made it out the deadly vacuum vortex with a shriek.

“Ah! N-no! Get a-away from me!” Satoru stared down at him coldly through his unobstructed heavenly eyes, as he pitifully tried to crawl away. He took one step towards him, stomped on his hand ruthlessly—causing the man to scream, before he got down to his level.

“N-no! Please, s-spare me...!”

“This is my first and last warning to you.” It was beyond terrifying, to see those six eyes in this close proximity. But even more dreadful was the tight chokehold on his throat—

“If you ever try to pull this idiotic stunt again on my wife, know that I can and I will snap your neck.” Satoru’s face split into a sinister grin as he tapped the man’s nape, before he crushed the bone on his hand with a crack and made him howl. “Remember that, yeah?”

. . . that day, none in jujutsu headquarters dared to spread any word about Gojo Satoru’s outrageous conduct, even when it was an attack against their own highest ranking leader.

“Satoru, you don’t have to, really—”

“Nuh, uh! I’ve promised you I’ll nurse you back to health!”

Unaware of anything and everything, you thought that your loving husband was a silly jester trying to make you feel better. On the fifth day of your stay in hospital, you were well enough to eat solid food, and Satoru insisted on spoon feeding you the fruits he cut himself.

“Good girl,” he praised with a wholly playful smile as you chewed on the watermelon. You looked at him with a mock frown, pursing your lips.

“You’re making me look like a kid.”

“You are, in fact, my second kid, so I have all rights to baby you.”

You let out a giggle, but then suddenly your throat felt like it was closing in and you coughed. Instinctively, you reached for your neck— your fingers tracing the scar there.

You still could remember the sense of paralyzing fear you felt as soon as your neck was cut. The heavy bleeding that followed, the way the world blacking out around you…

“Sweets…?” Satoru put down the plate and got a grip on your trembling figure. He gently pushed your chin up to meet his eyes. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, hmm?”

Your frantic eyes locked onto his, and your rapid breathing steadied. Your clammy hand reached out to touch his face... before you lunged forward, throwing your arms around him.

“Sweetheart…” Satoru hugged you back in return, sighing against the nape on your neck, as he planted a soft kiss there.

You tried your best not to cry but it was hard not to while remembering everything.

“I-I was so scared…”

“Mhm.”

“I-I kept thinking… w-what if I c-can’t see you… or baby again…? I… I s-still want to do a lot of… things… w-with you…”

The way you shook in his arms like a fragile leaf made something inside him burn. He was supposed to provide you with security, give you a life far removed from curses—

Having left that warning against the higher-ups wasn’t enough, he should’ve made him beg for his life more—

“Listen to me,” Satoru said as he broke the hug, the deep frown in his grave expression made you almost sob. He gently wiped your overflowing tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Stop thinking that. You’re alright. You’re going to get better. You and me—we are going to raise our son together.”

You took in each of his words fully, even as your lips quivered.

“And mark my words…” Right in this moment, you thought that your husband was most dashing as he gave you his promises—as his blue eyes glimmered under the light. “They won’t ever lay their hands on you ever again. Not while I’m here. Not ever. I already made sure of that.”

You were curious about what he did, but you chose not to press further when Satoru leaned in suddenly and brushed his lips against yours in a soft kiss, melting your heart into mush.

When he pulled away, it was his usual teasing grin on his handsome face. “Now, I only have one duty left— that is to get my cute wife back on her feet. So, be a good little wifey and have lots of fruits and sleep, okay?”

You giggled freely this time, feeling tremendously safe and loved, and instead of answering, you chose to peck his lips instead— hoping that he’d know that you trusted him with your whole life.

. . .

“By the way… Satoru, where’s our baby?” you missed your pumpkin, and while being with your funny husband lifted your spirits, you wanted to cuddle him too.

He chuckled in response. “Ah! Since Megumi is on an assignment, I left him with Ichiji earlier! Don’t worry, I’ll come pick him up soon, ‘kay?”

Epilogue

“I’m going out for a bit, and if you ever make him upset or cry… I can and I will sense it! So Ichiji—do your best!”

“Bwa…”

“Eeek!”

Ichiji stared at Baby Gojo with literal sweat on his forehead, as the little being curiously looked up at him.

By all means, this baby was adorable. Even more so when his father dressed him in a shark onesie. It was a peculiar choice—just like any of Gojo’s choices were—but it sure made the baby look even more endearing.

But the thing is… he didn’t feel secure enough to hold him! Especially when he didn’t know if Gojo’s claim of telepathic connection with his son was true or not!

Amidst his thoughts, suddenly Ichiji felt a soft touch on his arm and immediately turned to find the little munchkin putting his little hand on him and staring at him with such pureness unbefitting of Gojo Satoru’s son.

How can this baby be a stark contrast to his father? Ichiji was almost tempted to snuggle him, but he knew better.

“O-oh… d-don’t touch me…”

And as he retracted his hand back, the baby suddenly widened his eyes, feeling betrayed apparently, as his little lips wobbled and face scrunched up, so ready to burst into tears—

“Hic…”

“—!! Nooo! Don’t cry! Your father will fry me—! Eeek!!”