✎ Heaven's Fury

✎ 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!!”

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

synopsis. two weeks have slipped by since you disappeared from the emperor’s life. the palace whispers of his unraveling, but no one dares to name the madness consuming him.

contents. period piece, forbidden love, ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior, lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips

notes. not proofread once again, but at least all 8k words are finally done. until the epilogue!

series masterlist | chapter 2/2

It has been two weeks since your disappearance. 

Nobody knows where you’ve gone to. Or why. 

Synchronously, the palace had fallen into a hush. The kind that stretched beyond walls and courtyards, embedding itself in the bones of the imperial court. Servants whispered behind their sleeves. Nobles watched the throne with cautious eyes. The emperor, Japan’s strongest man, was unraveling. And nobody knew why.

The stench of alcohol clung to Gojo Satoru. Expensive sake pooled in ceramic cups, the scent sharp and sickly, mixing with the musk of sweat and silk. The chamber was a mess, toppled dishes, shattered glass, the remnants of a feast he hadn’t touched. A single candle flickered on the lacquered table, its wax melting into a slow, steady pool. The shadows cast by the flame twisted along the walls, stretching long and jagged, like ghosts reaching for him.

Gojo slumped against his seat, his white hair, usually snowy white, now fell in wild, overgrown tufts, obscuring his vision in uneven strands. His ceremonial robes, woven in silk and embroidered with the insignia of the Gojo Clan, hung loose around his frame. His fingers twitched over the rim of an empty goblet, a silent tremor betraying the rage simmering beneath his skin.

His breath was slow, methodical. 

Himiko entered without announcement, the sound of her embroidered slippers tapping against the floor. Her robes shimmered under the candlelight, crimson and gold, a deliberate echo of the imperial crest. She was the picture of regality: poised, calculating, her scent perfumed with jasmine.

“You’ve been drinking again,” she observed, her voice smooth yet edged with unspoken frustration.

Gojo didn’t bother lifting his head. Instead, he chuckled, the sound devoid of mirth. He tipped his goblet back, only to find it empty. A scowl twisted his lips as he tossed it aside. The metal clattered against the floor, rolling to a stop against shattered glass.

“Would you like a prize for your deduction?” His voice was hoarse, his throat burned raw from drink.

She ignored his bitterness and stepped closer, fingers trailing along the lacquered table, grazing over his discarded robes. The action was slow, deliberate.

“Tell me, Satoru…” she murmured, her voice as soft as silk, as sharp as a blade. “Why do you waste yourself like this?”

His fingers curled into a fist.

Himiko’s eyes flickered, catching the movement. She stepped closer, her presence heavy in the candlelit chamber. “You were born to rule,” she continued, her words laced with honey and venom alike. “And yet, you let yourself fall into ruin over a woman who no longer wants you. A personal servant, much less.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

“She has severed all ties with you,” Himiko pressed, her tone almost pitying. “After your stunt in the ceremonial hall she will never bat an eyelash at you again. And now, her clan whispers of rebellion in the capital. The elders demand retribution.”

Gojo’s breath was slow, methodical.

“The Gojo and Zenin clans must unite,” Himiko continued, watching him carefully. “For the first time in history, we will restore order. We will fulfill your destiny.”

She leaned in, her touch featherlight as her fingers trailed down his chest, the brush of her nails just barely felt through his robes.

“And,” she whispered, voice dipping lower, “you will have me.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

The candle’s flame flickered, the shadows shifting along the walls.

Gojo let out a slow, shaky breath. His head tilted back against the chair, his gaze hooded, unreadable. The weight of something unseen pressed against him, pushing him deeper into his own destruction.

Finally, he spoke.

“Fine.”

A victorious smile curled on Himiko’s lips.

But then, the doors burst open.

The impact sent a gust of air through the chamber, causing the candle to flicker wildly.

A new presence entered, stepping through the threshold like ink spilling across the pristine floors. Dark robes trailed behind him, blending into the shadows. His expression was unreadable, but his golden eyes gleamed with something knowing.

“Your Majesty,” Geto drawled, his voice smooth, stepping forward. “You called.”

Gojo frowned, his gaze shifting. “Suguru.”

Geto gave a short, practiced bow, the movement fluid. 

The Emperor stares at him, “You are my most trusted ally.”

“A honor that I hold dear, yes.” Suguru’s head is still ducked, waiting for permission to be lifted.

A strange tension filled the air. The kind that was razor-thin, ready to snap.

Gojo’s fingers drummed against the armrest of his chair, the sound slow, calculated. Then, his foot lifted, pressing beneath Suguru’s chin, forcing his head up until their gazes met.

A pair of icy cerulean orbs bore into plum ones.

“You would never do anything to betray my trust, no?”

The room turned frigid.

Suguru’s entire body tensed, though his face remained still. The weight of those words pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating. The deadly tone, Gojo’s battle tone, was one Suguru had only ever heard on the battlefield, when his friend was overtaken with bloodlust.

He felt his blood go cold.

“No, of course not.” His head remained low, eyes staring at the spilled wine pooling along the floor, the blood-red liquid almost taunting him. A warning.

“Then tell me that the rumors are false, dear friend.”

Suguru’s eyes flickered.

Gojo pressed harder with his foot. “Tell me that you did not let my [Name] leave.” His voice trembled, cold and sharp. “Tell me that you did not send her a carriage.”

Silence.

“Tell me that you did not leave her in the hands of another man after I had worked so hard to bring her back.”

Suguru said nothing.

And that was the confirmation Gojo needed.

His hands clenched. His chest heaved.

And then,

“I TRUSTED YOU!”

The chamber shook as Gojo kicked Suguru back, sending him crashing into a wooden table. Artifacts shattered, glass shards scattering across the floor.

Himiko shrieked at the violent display.

Suguru groaned, coughing as the pain tore through his ribs. He barely flinched at the glass buried in his side. Instead, he tilted his head, wiping the blood from his lip.

“She made her choice.” His voice was eerily calm.

Gojo froze.

His breath hitched, stomach twisting

“You don’t know that.” His voice was hoarse, cracking beneath the weight of his own grief. The emperor grabbed a dagger, well hidden in his garments and held it in Suguru’s direction.

Himiko scoffed.

“Why does it matter?” she demanded, stepping between them, fury flashing in her gaze. “She is nothing now! She abandoned you. She left you for another man–”

“Shut your mouth,” Gojo snapped.

Himiko stiffened, stunned by the venom in his voice.

“You chose me!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “You made your decision.”

“Because I had no choice!” His roar was thunderous, shaking the very foundation of the palace. His breath was ragged, vision tunneled. “But if I did,” He swallowed hard, the taste of regret thick in his throat.

His voice wavered, quieter now.

“If I did… it would have never been you.”

Silence.

Suguru exhaled, tilting his head. “I told you,” he murmured, watching the scene unfold with mild amusement. “You should have let her go when she asked.”

But Gojo Satoru, Emperor of Japan, the strongest man alive, had never known how to let go.

“If you want to live, you will follow my next command carefully.”

The village was quiet in the way only forgotten places could be, tucked away between rolling green fields and a quiet forest.

Unlike the grand palaces and bustling cities, this place moved at its own pace, undisturbed by the heavy weight of politics and war. Here, the air smelled of damn earth and fresh rice paddies, of firewood burning in stone hearths, of crisp morning dew that clung to thatched roofs, mingling with the distant sound of laughter from children playing. The dirt paths were lined with modest homes, their roofs sagging under years of wear. 

It had been two weeks since your disappearance. Two weeks of living as someone else.

Gone were the weight of expectations heavy upon your shoulders. Your hands, once unblemished and soft, now bored faint callouses from work you were never meant to do. And you didn’t mind.

“[Name].”

A familiar voice, steady and unmistakable cut through the quiet morning. You turned, catching sight of Nanami standing near the well, sleeves rolled to his forearms. A basket of vegetables hung from his grasp, the crisp greens contrasting against his neutral-toned kimono. His expression, as always, was measured.

A quiet sigh left your lips, “You’re back early.”

Nanami stepped forward, his glaze flickering down to your hands, observing the red marks on your palms from the rough mortar and pestle. He frowned.

“You shouldn’t be doing this kind of work,” he said, voice low but firm. “You’ll only injure yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t seem convinced. But instead of arguing, Nanami placed the basket down and gestured for you to follow him back towards the small house you shared. The villagers were already accustomed to seeing the two of you together, and while they didn’t openly question your presence, there was an unspoken distance between you and them.

As you walked beside him, you caught glimpses of their gazes, wary, guarded.

You  adjusted the strap of your bag, “They won’t even look at me in the eye,” you muttered as the other villagers brushed past you without a second thought. “Why?”

Nanami didn’t look at you immediately, instead adjusting his grip on the basket. “They don’t know who you are.”

“That’s exactly why they don’t trust me.” You exhaled sharply. “I don’t blame them.”

A pause.

Then, Nanami glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “It’s not just that.”

You blinked up at him. “What do you mean?”

His steps slowed as the two of you reached the wooden house, a modest structure, small but well-kept. He set the basket down on the porch, and after a beat of silence, he gestured to you.

“Look at yourself.”

You frowned but obeyed, glancing down at your clothes. “And what of it?” You eyes trail down to the garments. The robes you worn, though simple, were still of a higher quality than the villagers. The stitching, the cut, the deep indigo dye that refused to fade even after days of wear. The silk made you stick out like a sore thumb, but surely it was not envy that caused the entire village avoid you like the plague. These fabrics were a gift from your former mentor Yaga, after all. You couldn’t simply dispose of them.

“The embroidery on your robes, the color… no one other than those of the Imperial Royal Family may be adorned in it.” He exhaled, voice lowering. “It all says one thing: you belong to the emperor.”

A chill ran down your spine.

You swallowed.

Nanami studied your reaction before exhaling, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It was always him,” he murmured.

You looked up. “What?”

“He never let you out of his grasp.” His voice was quiet but weighted. “Even now, when you’re here… Gojo still lingers.”

The name alone sent a shiver down your spine.

Your fingers clenched at the fabric of your robes, suddenly feeling suffocated by it. You had spent so long trying to distance yourself from him, from the golden cage he had kept you in. And yet, here you were.

Still marked by him.

“Well then I need to get myself new clothes,” your hands fidgeting with the rich fibers of your clothing.

“No need,” Nanami pauses his ministrations to look at you. “I’ve already talked to the local seamstress and requested a much more appropriate wardrobe for you.”

For the first time in weeks, you feel a smile form on your face, “Just what would I do without you, Nanami?”

“I wonder the same thing,” he mutters, but you can hear the jest in his voice. He turns away to hide the small smile on his lips.

“Oh, you!” You point straight at the curve of his lips, disregarding the dirt on your hands. He tries to wave them away. “If it wasn’t for the fact that you are an eunuch you would make a damn good husband.”

“That’s… highly inappropriate for you to say,” a flush of pink makes its way to his face.

“Loosen up,” you shrug. “We’re not in the palace anymore.”

“There could be listening ears.”

“Here?” You scoff. “No way. They’ll never find us.”

A gust of wind passed through, rustling the trees. The scent of rain hung in the air, thick and heavy.

You followed him onto the porch, sinking down onto the wooden steps. A comfortable silence stretched between you both.

Nanami turned his head slightly. “Did you ever love him?”

The question wasn’t unexpected. But the answer…

Your hands tightened in your lap. Your chest ached.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I did.”

Nanami hummed, as if he already knew.

You bit your lip, gaze distant. “And that’s what makes it so hard.”

Nanami nodded, his usual sharp demeanor softening. “Love is never simple.”

You turned your head, looking at him with something close to curiosity. “Have you ever been in love, Nanami?”

For the first time that morning, you saw the corner of his lips twitch upward in something resembling amusement.

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

You raised a brow. “What would you call it, then?”

Nanami exhaled, resting his elbows on his knees. “An unfortunate attachment.”

That made you laugh, genuinely. The sound was warm, familiar, a reminder of a life before everything unraveled.

The tension in your chest eased, just slightly.

The wind blew again, carrying with it the distant laughter of children, the sound of a woman calling her husband home, the rustling of bamboo trees swaying in the breeze.

For a moment, just a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe that this could last.

That this small, quiet life could be yours.

The village was peaceful that evening.

The last remnants of sunlight bled into the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep amber and violet. The rice paddies stretched far into the distance, their golden stalks swaying gently with the breeze. Smoke curled from the thatched roofs of houses, the scent of simmering miso and fresh grain filling the air. Children ran through the dirt paths, their laughter ringing out like wind chimes, their innocence untouched by the quiet storm that lurked on the horizon.

You stood at the entrance of your small home, eyes trained on the fading sun. A cool wind brushed against your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms. Something about the stillness of the evening set you on edge, like the world itself was holding its breath.

Behind you, Nanami finished setting the table, his movements practiced and efficient. “Come inside,” he called, his voice steady as ever. “It’s getting cold.”

You hesitated, something in your gut twisting.

You had felt this before. A warning. A shift.

Slowly, you stepped inside, closing the wooden door behind you. The candlelight flickered, casting soft shadows against the walls. Nanami had prepared a modest meal, steamed rice, pickled vegetables, miso soup with tofu. You sat across from him, but the unease in your chest remained.

Nanami noticed. He always did.

His gaze flickered up, studying your expression. “You’re unsettled.”

You exhaled, pressing your palms against the warm ceramic of your bowl, seeking comfort in its heat. “It’s… too quiet.”

“The village is always quiet at this hour,” he pointed out.

You shook your head. “Not like this.”

A pause. Then, Nanami set down his chopsticks. “You sense something.”

You swallowed. “Don’t you?”

Nanami didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping against the wooden table in thought. Finally, he spoke.

“There have been whispers.”

Your breath hitched. “What kind of whispers?”

He looked at you then, and something in his gaze was heavier than before.

“The kind that don’t reach villages like this unless they are meant to be heard.”

The food in your mouth suddenly tasted like dust.

Nanami continued, voice even but firm. “Travelers passing through have spoken of movement in the capital. The Zenin and Gojo clans are consolidating their forces after rumors of resistance in this region.”

Your stomach twisted.

The Gojo and Zenin clans consolidating must only mean one thing. 

Your fists clenched beneath the table. “It’s him, isn’t it? He married Himiko—and now they’re coming for us, calling it treason.” No matter how powerful Suguru was, you knew his silver tongue and lofty rank could only shield you for so long.

Nanami studied you for a moment. “There’s no confirmation.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “It doesn’t need confirmation.”

Because of course it would be him.

Who else could unite the two most powerful clans in Japan? Who else had the power to move an entire army without resistance? Who else had enough obsession to still chase you after all this time?

Nanami sighed, his expression unreadable. “If it is him… then this village may not be safe much longer.”

The air around you grew suffocating.

He was coming.

The weight of that realization settled deep into your bones, into the very marrow of your being. The small, fleeting life you had begun to carve out here, the quiet mornings, the warmth of the village, the laughter of children, the routine of simple tasks. It was all temporary.

Because Gojo Satoru was coming.

And he would burn the world to the ground to take you back. Out of cruelty. 

You pushed your bowl aside, suddenly losing your appetite. “We should leave.”

Nanami’s gaze darkened. “Not yet.”

Your brows furrowed. “Nanami–”

“If we leave now, we confirm the suspicions of anyone watching,” he said, voice low, calculated. “We need to be smart. We need time.”

You hated that he was right.

Silence stretched between you both, filled only by the distant sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

Then, Nanami did something unexpected.

He reached across the table, placing a hand over yours.

The touch was brief, steady, grounding. “We will figure this out.”

You stared at him, at the sharp angles of his face, at the unwavering certainty in his gaze. And for the first time since the unease settled into your chest, you believed him.

But still, deep in the back of your mind, you knew this was only the calm before the storm.

The night, you dreamt of him. 

Not the kind of fleeting, disjointed dream that dissolves like mist upon waking, but the kind that wraps around your very soul, warm and golden, refusing to let go. It was the kind of dream that felt real, so heartbreakingly vivid that, for a moment, you were no longer lying in a modest village home with the scent of burning wood creeping in from the outside world, no longer burdened by the weight of the choices you had made. You were home.

Not the home you had made for yourself in exile, but the home of your past, a home gilded with silken screens and quiet whispers, with polished floors that gleamed beneath lantern light, and with delicate tapestries woven with the history of an empire you had once believed could be yours. The place where you had once walked with the quiet assurance of someone who belonged, where your voice had been heard, where your name had been spoken with reverence rather than secrecy.

It was spring. The season of renewal, of beginnings, of hope.

You found yourself beneath the vast expanse of the sky, the air thick with the heady perfume of blooming wisteria and the faint, refreshing scent of the nearby stream that wound through the imperial gardens. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, their pale petals drifting lazily through the air like whispered promises, catching in your hair and dusting the ground in a carpet of soft pink. The wind carried the sound of distant laughter, the gentle rustling of leaves.

And above you–

Satoru.

His silhouette was bathed in the afternoon light, the golden hues catching in his white hair, making him look almost otherworldly. He leaned over you, one arm braced against the soft grass, shielding his eyes against the sun’s glare, the other resting lightly beside your shoulder. His robes, though still of the finest silk, were simple today, stripped of the heavy embroidery and rigid embellishments that marked him as the heir to the most powerful clan in the land. The imperial crest was absent from his attire, and for once, he was just Satoru.

And his eyes.

Brilliant, piercing cerulean, sharp and knowing yet warm in a way that only he could be. You had spent so much of your life searching for the ocean’s reflection in them, for the endless sky in the depths of that unrelenting blue, and now, after all this time, they looked at you like you were the only thing that had ever truly mattered.

He studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, the shadow of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“You’re staring,” he mused, his voice smooth as silk, his amusement evident in the lazy drawl of his words.

You huffed softly, turning onto your side, the grass cool beneath your palms. “I’m admiring,” you corrected, your tone just as light.

Satoru chuckled, his laughter as rich and effortless as it had always been, a sound that made the world feel lighter, that made you feel lighter. “Is there a difference?” he asked, feigning innocence, though the mischief in his eyes betrayed him.

You sighed, exasperated but fond. “One makes you sound less arrogant.”

He grinned at that, finally shifting to lie beside you, stretching out as if the entire world belonged to him. And in a way, it did.

But in this moment, he belonged to you.

“Pft,” he blows a raspberry into the air. “Let me bask in it, will you? You never give me this kind of attention.”

The wind stirred the branches above, sending another cascade of petals drifting down around you, a few landing in the silver strands of his hair. Without thinking, you reached out, brushing them away, your fingertips barely skimming the silk of his robes as you did. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, only watched you with that same unwavering gaze, as if he were committing you to memory, as if he were terrified you might disappear before his eyes.

“You know,” he murmured after a moment, his voice quieter now, as though he, too, did not want to shatter the fragile peace between you, “I wish we could stay like this.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Because so did you.

More than anything, you wished for a world in which this moment, this feeling, this love could exist without consequence.

But you were not foolish. You had always known the truth.

This was never a love that could be without suffering. You were only a concubine, after all. A spoil of war. Not fit to be made an empress. 

You swallowed, willing yourself to keep your voice steady. “We can’t,” you said, though you hated the way the words tasted on your tongue.

Satoru turned his head to face you more fully, his expression unreadable at first, before something flickered across his features, something softer, something pleading.

“Who says?” he asked, and his tone was so quiet, so unlike the brash, overconfident man you had known, that it made your heart ache. “Tell me who says we can’t, and I’ll destroy them.”

You laughed then, a small, sad sound, because you knew he meant it.

“Satoru.”

“I’m serious.” He propped himself up on one elbow, his free hand coming to rest just beside your wrist, close enough that you could feel his warmth but far enough that he wasn’t touching you. “What’s stopping us? The court? The elders? The weight of the empire? Let them have it all. I don’t need any of it.”

You turned to look at him fully now, your chest tightening at the raw honesty in his face, the way he looked at you as if you were his entire world.

And maybe, once upon a time, you had been.

But the world did not belong to you and Satoru alone.

You reached out, letting your fingers trail lightly over his knuckles before pulling away. “You don’t mean that,” you whispered, though a part of you desperately wanted to believe that he did.

Satoru’s jaw clenched, his fingers twitching as if resisting the urge to grab your hand and never let go. “I do.”

And maybe, for that moment, he truly believed it.

But deep down, you both knew better.

The empire would never let him go.

Just as it would never let you be his.

The breeze picked up again, scattering more petals through the air, the scent of cherry blossoms thick and sweet, overwhelming. You wanted to stay here, in this moment, forever. You wanted to pretend that this could last, that you could stay in his arms and never worry about what came next.

But the moment began to waver, the edges of the dream blurring, the sunlight dimming.

And then, suddenly, the gardens were gone.

The warmth, the laughter, the scent of cherry blossoms… all of it melted away into smoke.

Your dream had shifted to another scene.

It was of the familiar scene of the bustling city just outside of the Outer Palace. The capital city had always been lively, but today it seemed to hum with an extra spark. The streets bustled with merchants peddling fragrant spices and embroidered silks, laughter echoed from the open-air teahouses, and the golden rooftops of the imperial palace gleamed under the afternoon sun like something out of a story.

You had just returned from your weekly errand, fetching a fresh batch of pastries from the emperor’s favorite bakery. The baker’s son had been in high spirits as usual, teasing you for being the only person in the city who could make the imperial kitchens jealous with how often you snuck in outside food.

But it wasn’t just the pastries you carried today.

A tiny, delicate flower rested in the palm of your hand, given to you by a child, a sweet little girl who had tugged on your sleeve just as you were leaving the marketplace.

"For you, miss!" she had chirped, eyes bright with admiration.

You had accepted it with a beaming smile, ruffling her hair before she scurried back to her group of friends, giggling and chattering about how pretty the imperial concubine was.

The city loved you.

Perhaps it was because you were one of them, despite the palace silks and the golden embroidery of the Gojo clan stitched into your robes, you had never let your status turn you into something untouchable.

So there you were, practically glowing, a flower twirling between your fingers as you strolled through the palace gardens, utterly unaware that your mere existence was about to ruin the emperor’s evening.

Because at that very moment, Satoru Gojo was staring at you with the expression of a man moments away from declaring war. He had been waiting at the gates of his own palace unceremoniously, counting down the seconds until you made it back, only for his bright spirits to be crushed.

By a flower.

A single, wretched flower.

In your hand.

And you were smiling.

Satoru didn’t even realize he had stopped in his tracks. His mind, sharp and dangerously quick, was already cycling through the list of punishments he could bestow upon the unfortunate soul who had given it to you.

Banishment? Too lenient. Public humiliation? Getting warmer. Immediate execution? …No, too messy. Forced labor in the outer provinces? Perfect.

His hands flexed at his sides. His jaw ticked. His vision tunneled.

He was going to make an example out of whoever had dared…

And then, you turned, your eyes meeting his.

And you smiled even brighter.

"Your Majesty!" you called, voice light with amusement, as if he weren’t currently five seconds away from storming the dungeons and demanding names.

You all but skipped toward him, the flower still twirling between your fingers, completely unaware of the absolute existential crisis you had just caused.

Gojo’s icy blue gaze flickered between your face and the flower, as if trying to determine which offended him more.

"What," he began, his tone deceptively casual, "is that?"

You blinked. "A flower?"

His eye twitched.

"I can see that," he muttered, before stepping closer—close enough that the sheer heat of his presence sent a shiver down your spine. "I meant, who gave it to you?"

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "Why do you assume someone gave it to me? Maybe I plucked it from the fields myself."

Satoru let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Ha." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "Try again, sweetheart."

Your lips twitched, but before you could answer, a voice piped up–

"It was me!"

Both of you turned to find a child, the same little girl from earlier, standing at the edge of the gates of the Outer Palace, her face alight with pride.

"I gave her the flower!" she repeated, puffing out her chest. "Because she’s the prettiest lady in the whole city!"

Silence. A long, long silence.

Gojo stared. You suppressed laughter.

His entire body visibly relaxed.

The tension in his jaw disappeared, the storm in his eyes cleared, and for a single, fleeting moment, the Emperor of Japan looked genuinely speechless.

And then, he scoffed.

"Well, I suppose I can’t punish a child," he muttered, crossing his arms with a dramatic sigh. "What a shame."

You finally let out a laugh, shaking your head as you knelt beside the girl. "Thank you, little one," you whispered, tucking the flower into your sleeve.

The girl giggled before scurrying away, leaving just the two of you standing in the palace once more.

Satoru watched you carefully, his arms still crossed, his signature smirk just barely returning to his lips.

"You looked like you were five seconds away from passing a death sentence," you teased, eyeing him with amusement.

His expression didn’t waver.

"Oh, I was."

You rolled your eyes. "And what would you have done if it wasn’t a child?"

Gojo hummed, tilting his head as if considering. "Well…" His smirk sharpened. "Let’s just say the baker’s son would have found himself mysteriously exiled to the coldest province in the empire."

You froze.

Your stomach dropped.

Because oh– oh no.

He knew.

Satoru watched, relishing in the way your posture stiffened, the way your gaze flickered just slightly, as if calculating whether it was worth denying it.

"Your Majesty, I–"

"You what?" He raised a brow, leaning in once more, his voice dipping into something dangerously sweet.

"You think I wouldn’t hear about the little romance rumors floating around the palace?" He chuckled, voice laced with something possessive, something undeniably jealous. "You think I wouldn’t know about the way the baker’s son looks at you?"

You swallowed. "It’s just gossip."

"Is it?"

Gojo’s voice was far too amused, far too smug, because he already knew the answer.

And then, just because he could, he lowered his voice even further, leaning in until his lips were barely a breath away from your ear.

"Promise me you won’t leave me."

Your heart stopped.

You turned to him, but the moment you did, he pulled back, flashing you a grin that was far too pleased with itself.

"Don’t look so surprised," he mused, turning on his heel and walking away, hands tucked into his sleeves.

Then, over his shoulder.

"After all, I won’t let anyone take you away."

And then you’re awaken.

Your chest heaved, your skin damp with sweat, your heart pounding so violently against your ribs that for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

The room was dark. Cold.

How cruel your mind was to remind you of such warm times.

The early morning light filtered through the wooden shutters, casting long golden streaks across the small room. Outside, the village was already stirring with women gathering water from the well, the rhythmic pounding of rice in wooden mortars, the occasional laugh of a child running past. The scent of damp earth and fresh grass filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of dried herbs that hung from the ceiling.

Inside, you sat on the floor, weaving together dried reeds into a basket, fingers moving deftly despite the lingering morning chill. Across from you, Nanami was sharpening a knife, the slow, deliberate drag of steel against stone filling the quiet space between you.

It was a comfortable silence, one that had settled between you both over the past two weeks, a rhythm that neither of you spoke of, yet understood nonetheless.

“You’re getting better at that,” Nanami remarked, not looking up from his work.

You snorted softly, twisting another reed into place. “You sound surprised.”

“I am.”

You tossed a loose strand of reed at him. He caught it midair without even glancing, setting it aside with a faint huff of amusement.

Nanami tilted his head slightly, observing you from the corner of his eye. “What?”

You blinked, realizing you had been staring. “Nothing.”

His brow arched slightly, but he let it go, returning to his blade. The light glinted off the edge, sharp and lethal. You watched the way his hands moved steady.

Something in your chest tightened.

“You don’t think this is going to last, do you?” you asked suddenly.

Nanami paused.

The scrape of the whetstone against steel stopped, leaving only the distant sounds of the village outside. Slowly, he set the blade down, his gaze meeting yours, level and unreadable.

“…No.”

A lump formed in your throat. You nodded, looking away. “Neither do I.”

Silence.

Then, a sound.

Distant, almost imperceptible. A strange sort of rumbling.

Your fingers stopped weaving.

Nanami was already rising to his feet, his entire body going rigid. His hand went to the knife on the table. His sharp gaze flickered toward the window, toward the thin slit between the shutters. His breath was slow, measured, but you could feel the shift in his presence, the quiet kind of alertness that came before a storm.

And then a scream erupted.

Distant. But close enough.

Your blood ran cold.

Nanami moved.

He crossed the room in two strides, yanking the shutters open. And what you saw fire.

Distant but spreading.

Smoke rising in thick columns from the edge of the village, black against the early morning sky. The distinct sound of hooves against dirt, of metal clashing, of doors being kicked in. Then, through the haze of rising flames, you saw banners. Not just any banners.

Gojo’s crest.

Your breath hitched.

Nanami didn’t hesitate. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward the back entrance. “We need to move.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest, feet stumbling as you let him drag you forward. This was happening.

He had found you.

Gojo had found you.

Days before the raid, the palace pulsed with restless energy. Servants flitted through the corridors, their hurried steps echoing against the lacquered floors as they fastened armor, sharpened blades, and prepared provisions. The campaign was supposed to be routine, a small raid to quell rumors of insurrection in a remote village. Yet, the Emperor himself was leading the charge.

No one questioned it aloud. But the whispers wove through the palace like smoke.

In his private chambers, Gojo stood at the window, watching the courtyard below as soldiers mounted their horses, their banners snapping in the cold wind. His reflection stared back at him in the glass. His grip tightened behind his back.

"You’re awfully tense for such a minor skirmish," Himiko mused, lounging on the divan behind him. The golden silk of her robes pooled around her like a shimmering snare. She lifted a cup to her lips, watching him over the rim, her gaze sharp. "One might think there’s more at stake here than a simple village purge."

Gojo didn’t turn.

"One might."

Silence stretched between them, heavy with everything left unsaid.

Himiko hummed, setting her cup down with a delicate clink. "You’ve always been so stubborn. So unwilling to accept the order of things." She rose, crossing the room with slow, deliberate steps. "It’s a shame, really. You could’ve been content. You could’ve let go."

Her fingers brushed his sleeve. A touch meant to soothe. To remind.

His hand snapped up, catching her wrist before she could go any further.

Himiko stilled, lips parting in the slightest gasp. Not from pain, he wasn’t squeezing hard enough for that. But his grip was firm, unyielding. The weight of it said more than any words could.

A muscle flickered in Gojo’s jaw. "Do you think this is forever?" His voice was quiet, but there was something in it that made the candlelight tremble.

Himiko’s smile didn’t falter, but something in her gaze shifted. "I think," she murmured, tilting her head, "that you’re still bound by the same chains as always. No matter how strong you are, some things can’t be undone."

Gojo released her. The moment stretched, brittle as ice. Then he turned, striding toward the door, his long robes whispering against the floor.

Outside, his men were waiting. His horse was waiting.

And somewhere beyond the mountains, the one thing he had ever truly wanted was waiting.

He had wasted enough time.

The streets were already chaos. Villagers running, shrieking, clutching their children as armed soldiers stormed through the narrow paths. Houses were being torn apart, doors broken down. Soldiers clad in imperial armor barked orders, swords flashing as they cut down those who resisted.

Your breath came short, panic clawing at your throat.

Nanami’s grip on your wrist was firm. “Stay close.”

You barely nodded, your body moving on instinct as he guided you through the chaos. You ducked behind a stack of crates, pressing yourself against the wood as two soldiers passed by. Nanami’s body shielded yours, his presence grounding you even as your hands trembled.

A sharp whistle.

Nanami cursed, shoving you aside just as an arrow embedded itself into the wood where your head had been a moment ago.

You gasped.

Another whistle.

Nanami moved. He spun, his knife flashing, a throw, a sickening thud, a body crumpling.

Blood.

It hit the dirt in a slow, steady stream.

You stared.

Nanami grabbed your face, forcing your gaze back to him. “Focus.”

Your lips parted, breath shuddering. But you nodded.

He pulled you forward, weaving through the panicked masses. The exit. You needed to get to the forest to escape before it was too late.

A tall figure clad in white and blue, standing at the center of the destruction, untouched by the chaos.

Gojo Satoru.

Your feet froze.

His eyes locked onto yours instantly. Even from across the village square, even through the haze of smoke and bodies, you could feel the weight of his gaze. The way his body shifted the moment he saw you.

For a moment, nothing else existed.

Nanami saw him at the same time. His entire body went rigid.

Gojo took a slow step forward. His imperial robes billowed slightly with the movement, the embroidery glinting under the firelight, his armor forged from precious metals glistened in the sunlight. His sword hung at his hip, untouched, as if he hadn’t even needed to lift it.

Nanami’s grip on your arm tightened.

Gojo’s expression darkened. His gaze flickered between the two of you visibly irked by the domestic dynamic that had recently developed.

His lips parted, his voice cutting through the carnage like a blade. “Found you.”

Your stomach twisted.

Nanami moved.

But Gojo was faster.

Before either of you could react, a blur of motion, a gust of force, unstoppable. Nanami was on the ground. The blond man coughed out blood.

Your scream barely had time to leave your throat before Gojo was in front of you, too close, too fast. His fingers wrapped around your wrist. Unyielding.

The air was thick with the scent of smoke and blood, the distant wails of the ravaged village melding into the wind. Your hands trembled as you clenched them at your sides, willing yourself to remain still. The weight of the past, of every wound he had inflicted upon you, settled deep in your bones.

“Running from me again?” His voice was a whisper of thunder, low and dangerous. “I thought we were past that.”

You had been running for so long, but had you ever truly escaped him? Every step you took away from him, every sleepless night, every whispered prayer for his absence, and yet here he was, a specter that refused to fade.

Your heart leapt to your throat as his fingers clamped around your wrist, tightening as you attempted to yank yourself free. His other hand rose, tracing the curve of your cheek with deceptive gentleness, the callouses rough against your skin.

“Did you truly believe I wouldn’t come for you?”

Your breath came shallow. “Gojo–”

His fingers curled against your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. His expression was unreadable, but his unrelenting grip told a different story. He had always been relentless, hadn’t he? No matter how much you tried to pull away, he found his way back, like a tide that refused to recede.

“Nanami,” he said coldly. “Do your job. Lead the men back.”

A moment of hesitation, a flicker of something like pity in Nanami’s eyes before he turned away. You were glad he did. Gojo had spared him enough not to strike him down on the spot. 

Soon, only the two of you remained, locked in a battle more ferocious than the ones fought with swords.

His forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with your own. Your attempts to struggle were fruitless; his body caged you, muscles honed by years of war making it impossible to flee. The warmth of him, the sheer familiarity of his presence, made something inside you ache against your will.

“Why do you run?” His voice was softer now, coaxing.

Your lips curled in a bitter smile. “Are you nothing more than a brute?”

His grip faltered, a shadow of hurt flashing in his eyes. But you didn’t care. His pain was nothing compared to the agony he had inflicted upon you.

“You claim to care for me,” you spat, voice shaking with fury, “yet you cast me aside like a discarded pawn. You chose another, again and again, and then have the audacity to crawl back to me.”

Your voice cracked, but your anger did not waver.

“You humiliated me. You shattered my world and toyed with my heart like it was nothing more than a trinket. I hate you, Gojo Satoru. I hate you so much it consumes me.”

The tears spilled unchecked, your body trembling as the dam within you finally broke. You were certain you looked wretched, but dignity was a luxury you had long since abandoned.

His silence was unbearable. The weight of his guilt pressed between you, thick and suffocating, but you refused to let it soften you.

“You have hurt me beyond repair,” you whispered. “I always knew our love would bring pain, but I never thought it would be at your hands.”

Satoru swallowed hard, his large hands wiping away each tear as they fell.

“You lied to me,” you murmured, fists weakly beating against his chest. He lets you.

“I did.”

“You banished me.”

“I did.”

“You told me you loved me.”

His grip tightened. “I do.”

Your breath hitched. “I hate you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you insisted, though the conviction was waning. Did you? Did you truly?

His lips brushed against your temple, his hands cradling your face with unbearable tenderness, “Don’t you know that you’re killing me? That your words pierce me like no other blade?”

You exhaled shakily. “Then why aren’t you dead yet?”

A broken sound left his throat as he pulled you impossibly closer, until your bodies were melded together, until his warmth became a prison of its own.

“Take it back,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse. “Please.”

But you said nothing, staring past him to the charred ruins beyond. Nanami had rallied the men, but the damage had already been done. And so had the damage to your heart. 

“Your army is leaving,” you said numbly. “Why don’t you go join them, General?”

His face was flushed, his eyes bloodshot. And yet, as much as you wanted it to, the sight did not disgust you. Instead, a sick sense of satisfaction curled within you at his suffering.

“Not until you come back,” he declared. "Until you let me explain myself."

You laughed, sharp and humorless. It did not deter him.

He continues his plea, “You can humiliate me in the palace. You can strip me of every last shred of dignity. Do whatever you wish."

He pauses.

"Just come back.”

You tried to put distance between you, but his hold remained firm.

“You still don’t understand, do you?” Your voice wavered. “I am not yours anymore. I haven’t been yours since you chose her. Since you cast me aside for the sake of your kingdom.”

By now, Satoru’s trembling lips had given way to the relentless shaking of his entire body, “I never touched her. My hand was forced. Nothing happened.” Somewhere amid your onslaught, Satoru had forgotten how to breathe. His chest rose in shallow, uneven gasps, his shoulders trembling beneath the weight of words he couldn’t take back. His fingers curled into fists so tight they trembled, knuckles drained of color. He was unraveling right in front of you.

“Everyone around me speaks of my destiny, as if it were carved into the heavens themselves. They whisper that I was born to rule Japan, to claim a throne, to take a noble wife like Himiko and secure a legacy of power.” Satoru’s voice trembles, raw and desperate, as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply like he’s trying to commit you to memory. His hands clutch you tighter, as if you might slip through his fingers at any moment.

“But none of that means a damn thing to me. My destiny isn’t a kingdom—it’s you. It always has been. My place is by your side, not on a throne. I would spend a thousand lifetimes serving you, worshiping you, loving you. We were made for each other, meant to grow old together, to laugh and fight and dream until the very end. To pass down our love, our story—not to this damn empire, but to our grandchildren.”

His breath is shaky against your skin, his grip unrelenting. “Please,” he whispers, voice breaking, “don’t take that from me.”

You wanted to. Wanted to reach for him, to piece him back together, but the raw ache in your chest held you still.

How many times have you stood here, waiting for him to say something, anything, that would make the hurt go away? How many times have you let yourself believe that his silence wasn’t a choice?

You swallowed hard, throat burning. “You don’t get to do this,” you whispered.

His head jerked up, eyes wide, pleading.

“You don’t get to shake and break down and expect me to forget everything,” you continued, voice cracking. “You left me. You let me believe I didn’t matter.”

Satoru exhaled sharply, like the words had physically struck him. “I never–”

“Don’t.” You shook your head, stepping back when he tried to move closer. “Just don’t.”

The silence between them was thick, heavy with unsaid things. Satoru’s breaths came fast and shallow, his entire body vibrating with something between anguish and regret.

Still, you held on to the hurt. Let it press against your ribs, let it remind you that you weren’t just here to be broken all over again. You weren’t ready to forgive him. Not yet. But damn it, you wanted to.

“If it will ease your doubts, I’ll have her head in glass by morning.”

You shuddered. “I don’t want her dead.”

“Then she lives to see another day.”

“And the Zenins?” Your teeth clenched, voice shaking with restrained fury. “I tried to warn you about them, tried to protect you, but you chose to humiliate me instead.”

His fingers traced the curve of your jaw, deliberate and lingering, as if etching you into his memory. “I am truly sorry,” he murmured, his voice softer now, edged with regret. “It was a foolish attempt to keep you safe from those damn elders. I may be the ceremonial head of this country, but their power is undeniable. Your banishment was my own foolish doing to protect you after my mistress was forced upon me. I knew I was lost when I couldn’t breathe without your presence in the palace. The days blurred together, and my duties felt like nothing but a slow death. So, I tried to bring you back as my servant. It was safer that way. You were close, within reach, but still out of grasp. At least you were there. But then... I ruined it all. ”

You hadn’t tried to bite his finger off yet. He took it as an unspoken truce, leaning in, his presence overwhelming, his warmth sinking into your skin. “Not that it matters though. I'm going to kill those geezers and have their heads strung in front of the palace.” A flicker of a smirk ghosted his lips, but his eyes held something far more dangerous.

“I may be a fool,” he admitted, his breath brushing against you, “but I am not weak. So don’t waste a single thought on them.” His fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face toward his. “No one, not them, not fate itself, will take you from me.”

A cruel part of you savored the power you held over him. But you wanted him to suffer longer before you gave the satisfaction of knowing that your heart had softened. “I haven’t forgiven you.”

His hands trembled. “We have a lifetime for that.”

"How arrogant of you to assume I’d ever choose to spend a lifetime with you." Your voice was quiet, but the weight of your words struck like a blade.

You shouldn't feel as satisfied as you did when you watched Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive crumpled. His breath hitched, his knees buckling beneath him as if the sheer force of your rejection had stolen the ground from under him.

Still, he reached for you. Desperation bled into his touch, fingers digging into your sleeves as though letting go would mean losing you forever. His voice, usually laced with arrogance and ease, was stripped raw.

“Then I don’t see a point in living.”

The weight of his confession clung to the air, thick and suffocating, and yet he only looked at you, as if the universe itself had been reduced to the space between his hands and your skin.

“And what of your crown?” you finally whispered.

His laugh was hollow, almost broken. “I’d throw it away if it meant keeping you. If it meant you will let me be yours.”

Then, as if surrendering himself entirely, both knees met the dirt. His hands, once accustomed to wielding absolute power, clung to your waist, not as an emperor, not as the strongest, but as a man begging to be allowed to stay.

His eyes burned into yours, pleading, unraveling.

And for the first time, you let him hold you. This time, you didn’t pull away.

A shuddering breath left his lips against your skin, as if he couldn’t believe you were real, as if he feared you might slip away the moment he let go. His grip tightened, not in possession, but in reverence.

The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of rain, of earth, of something on the verge of breaking.

"I expect you to kneel at my feet and beg for years to come." You murmured, fingers brushing against the strands of his silver hair. A handful of hair is gripped tightly, fingers digging in with purpose. "Perhaps then, I might even consider you once more."

His throat bobbed. "If that is what it takes."

This was not just an apology, nor was it a confession. It was surrender in the purest sense. The weight of his kingdom, his sins, his power. All of it, cast aside for you. It was the justice you deserved after all the pain you endured.

reblogs and comments are appreciated mwah!

taglist | @wr4inn @sukioyakio @siopaoxcc @thejujvtsupost @bakananya @catobsessedlady @fiannee @sleepycow21 @kirashuu @deluludyslexic @isaacdaknight @bathroom-sand @arehzhera @lostinneocity @victoria1676 @uziwork @alexatiu @taenosaurrr @sukunasleftkneecap @toecurlingstories @yandere-stories @dreamsarenicer @hiyaitssans @getoicious @docosahexaenoic-san @goldenglow149 @amiorcani @step-on-me-melissa @erensswife1 @roses-and-reeses @ssc7514 @hyunsuks-beanie @crankyarchives @wooasecret @theiridescentdragon @mshitachin @kieralive @cake-with-the-cream @miffysoo @msvalsius @drthymby @sherryuki-callmeyuki @anonymous-creep @altgojo @aesukuni @sadmonke @luna-v-roiya @hightoasterr @rebeccawinters @paprikaquinn @frozenmallows

✎ a birthday to remember

- gojo satoru x reader

what is the so-called grand surprise does your husband prepare for your birthday?

genre: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—massive fluff, comfort, pregnant!reader, (cough) pregnant sex

note: hi peeps it's been ages since i last wrote gojo :') and love entries on that matter *sobs* but here it is... my birthday has passed too but here's to any of you whose birthday is near!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

“Sensei— happy birthday!”

This year, your birthday happened to fall on a workday.

If it were up to you, you would have taken the day off. However, Satoru had been assigned to Osaka and wouldn’t be returning until weekend, so taking leave and staying at home would most likely make you feel lonely.

Not only that, with you entering the fifth month of pregnancy, you figured it was better to stay active. And by the end of the day—you didn’t regret coming in at all. The students were all so sweet, they even chimed in to get you a pretty maternity dress to wear. You couldn’t wait to tell Satoru about them tonight.

You skipped happily toward the parking lot, but right when you turned the corner, suddenly—

“Wifeeeey!”

“Oh my god!”

You let out a loud gasp and took a step back, taking in the view. A sea of colorful balloons, with a man in suit standing right in the middle of it—

Your husband. In flesh. You blinked once, twice— thrice.

“Satoru...?”

He poked his head out of the string of balloons, a beaming, million-dollar grin lit up his face at the sight of your shocked expression. “Wifeeey! Happy birthdaaaaay!”

Before you could even process his sudden appearance, he had you in a chokehold, engulfing you in a bear hug and nuzzling his face against yours with childlike enthusiasm, the faint scent of his cologne filling your senses.

“What are you doing here?!” you half-shrieked, the surprise spilling from your voice.

He pulled back, frowning dramatically. “Ehhh? You don’t want me to be back?”

“Yes—”

His eyes widened as if you’d just committed the gravest betrayal. “You big meanie!”

“No,” you quickly retracted, trying to hold back your own smile at how comically dejected he was. “I mean… aren’t you supposed to be back on Sunday?”

“Heh heh, nope! I lied~” Satoru chirped, his grin returning in full force. “It’s my wifey’s birthday—how could I not come back for you?”

In that moment, your heart fluttered. He was probably saying it for no reason, but the fact that he really did fly back from Osaka just to meet you for your birthday meant a lot to you.

His big, warm hand then gently caressed your visible baby bump, his grin widening when he got a kick. “Ah, right… Hello to you too, baby! Did I startle you too? Sorry~”

You rolled your eyes, retorting, “He is terrified.”

Satoru leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper directed at your belly. “Don’t worry, baby. Papa’s here now, and he’s got balloons. That makes everything better, right?”

“...how long have you been standing here with these balloons?”

“Hmmm, not long. About an hour, maybe?”

“You shithead—why didn’t you just come inside?”

Satoru’s gasp of mock offense made you laugh despite yourself. “And ruin the surprise? My wifey deserves the full dramatic effect!”

Being Gojo Satoru’s wife certainly came with its fair share of patience-testing episodes, and sometimes you wanted to return him to Yaga for additional lessons of discipline.

But it was candid, over-the-top acts like this that reminded you just how lucky you were to have him.

Satoru brought you to a high-end restaurant for your birthday dinner before the two of you finally returned home.

And the moment you opened the door, you were greeted by countless balloons floating on the ceiling and the ground, the fairy lights illuminating the room in a cozy glow.

You were taken aback, mesmerized by the sight. “When did you even have the time to decorate the house?”

He grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “I have many little helpers—”

“Don't tell me it's Ichiji and Nanami? Satoru, you—!”

“I promised Nanami I wouldn’t make him blow up balloons! Though I might have heard him grumble something about being above this…”

"You're unbelievable..." You let out a resigned sigh, yet still smiling as you stepped further into the living room, now bathed in the soft, golden glow.

Satoru observed you with a quiet smile. His pretty wife, and the small life within you. He adored you the most out of everyone else in this twisted world.

Click! Click!

"Huh?" You turned to him when you heard the distinct sound of a camera shutter.

Satoru was holding his phone, an amused glint in his eyes. “Just capturing the moment, you know. You, the lights, and baby. It's perfect.”

You giggled. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

He shrugged, that signature grin returning. “What can I say? You’re beautiful.”

Later, you'd find out that one of the photos would be his lock screen from now on. It would be the first thing he saw every time he unlocked his phone.

Satoru brought out the box he had prepared, handing it to you with a sly grin. “Look, sweets, before we go to bed, I have one more gift for you—and you have to wear it now.”

You arched an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, as you took the box from his hands. The moment you opened it and pulled out the contents, you froze.

“—?! Satoru!”

A scarlet lingerie set. The bra features intricate lace trim along the edges, and the matching panties are equally bold, with a sheer lace overlay. Your cheeks flushed as you glanced at Satoru, who was watching you with an winning grin, clearly pleased with his choice.

“What?” he challenged. “They'll suit you, c'mon.”

“You're absolutely shameless.”

“But you love me anyway~”

You let out a defeated sigh, glancing up at him, already realizing there was no way out of this now.

“You’re lucky I’ve hit my head somewhere and married you.”

. . .

He was right. It fit you perfectly.

The moment you got out of the bathroom, Satoru could feel himself getting hard already. You looked like a vision, the deep red seemed to highlight your every curve, turning you into an effortless seductress.

And not only that, you were adorable too— fiddling with your fingers and touching your rounded belly, barely hiding how self-conscious you were.

"Don't just stare at me..." you mumbled, glaring at him.

He reached out, gently brushing his fingers against your cheek, his touch tender despite the fire in his eyes. “You’re making it hard to look away, you know.”

His hands then trailed down, skimming the sides of your body, each touch lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. It was almost as if he was unraveling you, piece by piece, and you weren’t sure whether to pull away or pull him closer.

And wait... was it just you or were the space between your legs indeed getting hotter and wetter?

As if reading your mind, suddenly two of his fingers touched your barely clad pussy, and you gasped. That's right— there is indeed a hole in this freaking lingerie!

"Are... we...?" you swallowed, your gaze meeting his.

"Can I?" he asked back, voice husky. His crystal clear eyes burning with lust as he assessed you— from your eyes, lips, and then the inviting sight of your cleavage.

Did you want this?

Of course you were. Your birthday was still far from over, and you missed him too.

In response, you pushed his already hovering fingers inside you, making you hold your breath. From that point on, Satoru knew what you wanted.

Without another word, he rubbed soft circles around your clit, and you let out an unabashed moan at the contact, clinging to his shoulders for support. "Ahh..."

He teased you for a while, before slowly entering his fingers into your throbbing folds, and you were close to collapsing if it weren't for his secure hold over you.

"You're so, so damn naughty..." he whispered lowly in your ear. It was taking everything he had not to lose it right then and there. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, but the sight of your writhing face and that baby bump was damn distracting and ignited the beast inside him.

He made you pregnant already, but there was just this primal desire— wanting to mark you more...

His fingers slowly pumped in and out of you, dragging them deep but just not deep enough—

"Please..." you scratched his back unwittingly, frustrated at his shirt that got in the way. "I-I... want... you..."

How sweet. Satoru relished in your titillating breaths and chuckled, vigorously continuing his dirty ministrations.

"Say it louder," he growled in your ears. "Can't hear you."

The bastard. You yanked his hair and made him catch your teary gaze. "I... want you..."

Sinful desire flared to life at your words. "Your wish is my command, missus."

Satoru suddenly pulled out his fingers—ignoring the whine you accidentally let out for being empty all of a sudden—and admired the sheen, sticky whiteness on them.

"I barely did anything and you're this wet already," he snorted, tasting it. "They're right about the pregnancy hormones."

He placed his hand on your waist, pressing a kiss on the firm skin of your belly, before undoing his belt and trousers and pulling out his hardened member.

The sight made you actually gulp, especially when he pumped it. He pulled you to his lap and guided his pride to your sopping entrance. The moment he inserted himself, he let out a groan of relief, while you arched your back and hissed, "Ngh!"

Satoru captured your lips, his hand pressing against your aching spine. He pulled you closer, urging you to take him completely.

"Ahh— ugh... mrgh!" you sighed against his neck as soon as you did, trying to even your breath. This was something you had done so many times before, but why was this time felt like an awakening of some sorts?

"Most beautiful," he breathed in your ear wickedly. "Don't worry, leave everything to me."

He rocked his hips against yours, one hand on your back and the other gripping your thigh. With each salacious thrust, you mewled and he panted, keeping you steady all the while.

He could feel your baby bump rubbing against as his toned abs, going along with the rhythm. Satoru grinned proudly, noticing how much it had grown over the past few months. The baby must be healthy in there, huh?

The relief somehow spurred him into pick up his pace, thrusting you more deeply than before. You almost squealed.

"You know what?" he grunted, mind hazed. He didn't really realize what he was saying to you, to be honest. "You're the prettiest when you're like this— round and full, with my kid."

You only caught the lewdness in his words, but you weren't able to ponder about it as he suddenly buried his face into your supple breasts.

"Look at them, getting bigger too— these days..." He sucked on the sensitive skin and you gasped in pleasure, crying out afterwards when he fondled them with both hands.

Your senses were overly heightened and you knew you wouldn't last long. Satoru too knew he was nearing his orgasm as he tore your new bra and sucked on the mound, furthering your never-ending moans, causing your eyes to roll back as the blinding pleasure overtook you— pushing you to cum right then and there.

In the next second, he pushed you into him impossibly deeper, and his hot release gushed inside your womb. You writhed at the sudden fullness, before getting limp and collapsed into him, not even realizing that you had squirted all over his lap and dress shirt.

Your husband glanced at you, in disbelief himself at the messy scene, but utterly satisfied as his bright eyes twinkled. "Heh..."

You were awoken at three in the morning, and the first thing you noticed was that you were in Satoru's warm embrace.

His arms were wrapped around you securely, holding you close as if he were protecting you even in his sleep. You must have passed out afterwards, as all you recalled was the numbing exhaustion.

Yet you knew for certain that Satoru had cleaned you up, dressed you in your pajamas, and even placed a heat pad on your hips to soothe you.

(He remembered the one time you woke up with cramps right after a raunchy night before)

Your husband was a cheeky shit, but for you, he was willing to go extra miles. It was an overlooked fact sometimes due to how unserious he was, but each time he did and you were reminded of it, your heart always soared.

Looking up, you found his peaceful sleeping face, and not for the first time, you couldn’t help but marvel at how truly handsome he was. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you gently caressed his face.

"Hmm...?" he frowned adorably, and you almost giggled. But when he cracked his eyes open, you almost regretted it—oh yes, he is a light sleeper.

"Sweets...? Can't sleep...?" He turned to you, voice thick with sleepiness. "Anything wrong?"

"No, I'm just watching you." You smiled, poking his cheek. "Go back to sleep."

"Really? Nothing's amiss?" His hand gently slid to your belly, giving it a reassuring rub. "You have to tell me if anything’s not right..."

"Hush, I'm fine."

After making sure you were indeed fine, Satoru tightened his arms over you and pressed his eyes shut. You wrapped your arms around his back in response, feeling his steady warmth. Right in this moment, you were overwhelmed with this gentle, soft feeling— love, the kind he gave you so freely and candidly.

Your birthday had passed, but if there was one wish only he could fulfill, surely you could still ask him, right?

"Satoru..." you muttered, feeling the cool breeze of the air conditioner lulling you back to sleep. "Will you stay with me... forever?"

A smile curled on his lips at your question, his eyes still closed. "Silly girl, it's your bedtime, so why ask that?"

You thought he wouldn't answer it as he didn't say anything more. But right before you drift into deep sleep, he pressed a sweet kiss to the crown of your head, giving you his promise— one that felt truer than anything else he had said to you before.

"I will... so you must stay with me too, got it?"

"Girls like it when men ignore em"

LIEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSS

I WANT THAT MAN OBSESSED WITH ME

I WANT HIM THINKING ABOUT ME LIKE A PRAYER, EVERY BREATH, EVERY MOVE, EVERY CHOICE HE MAKES ANCHORED TO ME. I WANT HIM LOSING SLEEP BECAUSE THE IDEA OF ME IS TOO LOUD IN HIS HEAD TO LET HIM REST. I WANT HIM TO LOOK AT ME LIKE I’M THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS—LIKE THE WORLD COULD BURN TO ASHES AROUND US AND HE WOULDN’T CARE AS LONG AS I’M STILL STANDING THERE.

I WANT HIM TO SPEAK MY NAME LIKE IT’S SACRED, TO LOOK AT ME LIKE I HOLD THE UNIVERSE IN MY HANDS. TO BE HAUNTED BY THE SOUND OF MY LAUGH, THE TRACE OF MY SCENT ON HIS SKIN, THE MEMORY OF MY TOUCH. I WANT HIS OBSESSION TO BORDER ON MADNESS, TO FEEL ME IN EVERY PART OF HIM LIKE A HUNGER HE CAN’T EVER SATISFY.

I WANT TO BE HIS FIRST THOUGHT

Rich boy gojo latest obsession: Spider woman aka you

Gojo Satoru was everything you weren’t. Wealthy, popular, and effortlessly charismatic, he ruled the school like a king. Girls wanted him, guys wanted to be him, and he basked in the attention without a care in the world. You, on the other hand, were invisible. Quiet, studious, and focused solely on your dream of becoming a mechanical engineer, you kept to yourself. You had no time for the drama or distractions of high school life—not that anyone tried to drag you into it.

For years, Gojo hadn’t even known you existed, too busy dating every pretty girl in school and living his high-society life. But you didn’t care. As long as you had your books, your love of science, and a clear path to graduation, you were content.

Then, everything changed the night you got bitten.

It happened as you walked home from the library, your bag heavy with notes and textbooks. A sharp sting on your hand made you pause, and when you looked down, you saw it: a spider, glowing faintly with an otherworldly hue. You brushed it off, thinking nothing of it at the time. But by morning, your entire world had turned upside down.

The changes were drastic, to say the least. It felt like you had the strength of five men combined. You could climb walls, stick to surfaces, and—most astonishingly—shoot webs. At first, it was chaos. You’d knock over furniture without meaning to, stick to walls by accident, and fire webs at the worst possible times. Balancing your new abilities with the demands of high school was a nightmare. And then there were your parents, who couldn’t understand why you suddenly seemed so…different.

Eventually, though, you got the hang of it. Slowly but surely, you found a rhythm. By day, you were the quiet girl no one noticed, slipping through the halls like a ghost. By night, you were Spider-Woman, swinging through the city, saving lives, and trying to make a difference.

One of those lives, unfortunately, was Gojo’s.

You’d saved him multiple times—once from a mugger in a dark alley, another time from a runaway car. Each time, you prayed he wouldn’t recognize you under the mask. But Gojo, being Gojo, became utterly and completely obsessed. He couldn’t stop talking about Spider-Woman. It was Spider-Woman this, Spider-Woman that. She was all he thought about, all he cared about. He’d defend her fiercely to anyone who dared criticize her, becoming your personal lawyer without even realizing it.

When the media started painting Spider-Woman as a delinquent—a vigilante who caused more harm than good—Gojo was furious. He went so far as to call his dad, threatening to sue the newspaper that ran the story. How dare they? Didn’t they know how much Spider-Woman sacrificed to keep the city safe? The idea of anyone tarnishing her name was enough to make his blood boil.

Then came the night at the nightclub. Gojo, carefree as ever, found himself cornered in a dark alley, moments away from being robbed. You swooped in, taking out the muggers with ease. But before you could leave, he stopped you.

“Wait!” he called out, breathless and his sky blue eye wide. “I… I just wanted to say thank you. For everything.”

For a split second, you hesitated. His voice, so familiar yet so different, made your heart skip a beat. But you couldn’t risk it—not with how obsessed he was. Without a word, you shot a web to the nearest building and disappeared into the night, leaving Gojo standing there, more intrigued than ever.

<^><^><^><^> <^><^><^><^><^><^>

The cafeteria buzzed with chatter as students clustered at their usual tables. Sitting alone with your tray of food and your notes, you tuned out the noise. Behind you, however, the loudest group in school had taken their seats—Gojo Satoru and his friends.

“Dude, I’m telling you—she totally recognized me,” Gojo said, his voice carrying across the room as he threw his hands up in frustration.

“Satoru, you’re delusional,” Geto drawled, brushing his long hair behind his ear as he gave his best friend a look of pity. “You know how many people she saves, right? Why would she only recognize you?”

“Because I’m pretty, that’s why,” Gojo shot back, leaning uncomfortably close to Geto’s face, his striking blue eyes glinting with mock indignation. “Who could ever forget this face, huh? I’m too handsome.”

Geto blinked at him, unimpressed. “You’re beyond saving.”

“He’s right,” Shoko chimed in dryly from across the table, casually popping a fry into her mouth. “You need professional help, Satoru.”

But Gojo wasn’t listening. He leaned back in his chair, dramatically running a hand through his white hair as though to emphasize his point. “I’m serious, guys! She’s so cool—like, way cooler than anyone else in this school. I have to meet her. But she doesn’t have an agent or an email or…anything! How am I supposed to contact her? Ugh, it’s torture.”

“You’re not supposed to contact her,” Shoko replied, not even looking up from her fries.

“Wait, wait,” Gojo interrupted, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Do you think she’d date me if I offered her money?” He turned to Geto and Shoko, searching for validation.

The two stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Money? Really?” Shoko snorted, clearly unimpressed. “Satoru, she’s a superhero, not a gold digger.”

Geto sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, and even if she was into money, why would she pick you? You’d probably get robbed while on a date with her.”

“Hey!” Gojo huffed, crossing his arms. “She saved me multiple times. Okay, a lot actually . That means something!”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “It means you’re really bad at staying out of trouble.”

Behind them, you fought the urge to roll your eyes. It was bad enough Gojo was obsessed with Spider-Woman, but to hear him talk about her with such unfiltered arrogance made your food taste worse. If only he knew how much effort it took to not acknowledge him during every rescue.

Still, you couldn’t deny the small flicker of amusement at the thought. Gojo Satoru, the most confident guy in school, practically pining over you without even knowing it.

<^><^><^><^> <^><^><^><^><^><^>

Gojo Satoru thought he was a genius. Actually, scratch that—he knew he was a genius. After all, if Spider-Woman was going to save him every time he found himself in trouble, then logically, he just needed to get into more trouble. That way, she’d have no choice but to keep saving him, which meant he’d get to see her more often.

“Wow,” he muttered to himself one day as he stared at his reflection in a classroom window. “I scare myself sometimes with how brilliant I am.”

And so, his master plan began. Every day, without fail, he’d find himself in increasingly dangerous situations. Whether it was wandering down shady alleys, conveniently “forgetting” his wallet in sketchy neighborhoods, or trying to provoke muggers by flashing his expensive watch in public, Gojo made sure to play the role of helpless rich boy perfectly.

And every single time, you were there. Swinging in at the last possible second, rolling your eyes behind your mask as you pulled him out of harm’s way.

For two weeks, this went on. Two excruciating weeks.

“Are you serious right now?” you snapped one night as you yanked him out of the path of an oncoming car he’d nearly walked in front of. “sir, What were you even doing in the middle of the street?” Your trying to make your voice deeper so he couldn't recognise it.

“Me?” he asked innocently, flashing you a grin that somehow managed to be both charming and infuriating. “I was just testing how fast that car was going. You know, for science.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “You’re unbelievable.” you whispered. You didn't want to talk to him too much and feed his delusion that he is somehow special to you.

“Thank you,” he replied, as if it were a compliment. “So, what’s your name? Your real name, I mean. Do you like movies? Dinner? Long walks in the rain?”

You ignored him, as usual, swinging away before he could say anything else. But Gojo was nothing if not persistent.

The final straw came on a rainy night after an already horrible day. You’d had a blowout argument with your mom that morning, and the weight of your double life was catching up to you. Your grades were slipping, exhaustion was eating away at you, and the constant pressure of keeping the city safe was unbearable. To top it all off, Gojo’s ridiculous antics were only making things worse.

So when you find him once again—this time standing at the edge of a rooftop of the hotel his rich father owns, "balancing practicing"—you snapped.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you shouted, storming toward him as the rain poured down. Your mask was soaked, and your voice shook with frustration and fatigue. “Do you have a death wish? Or are you just this desperate for attention?”

Gojo turned, his soaked white hair plastered to his forehead, and gave you that same infuriating grin. “Hey, Spider-Woman! Took you long enough. I was starting to think you didn’t care.”

You grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back from the edge, your patience completely gone. “Listen, rich boy,” you hissed, your voice trembling with anger. “I don’t know what kind of game you think this is, but I am not playing. You don’t get to make my life harder just because you’re bored or obsessed or whatever this is.”

For the first time, Gojo seemed taken aback. His grin faltered, and his usually sparkling blue eyes softened. “Wait, are you okay?”

You froze, caught off guard by the genuine concern in his voice. For a fleeting moment, the usual arrogance in his tone was replaced by something softer—something real. But the dam inside you had already broken.

“No, I’m not okay,” you admitted, your voice cracking under the weight of everything. “I’m also a human, you know. I get tired too... I—”

You stopped yourself mid-sentence, biting your lip hard enough to hurt. No. You’d already said too much. Letting him see even this much vulnerability was dangerous—too dangerous. You didn’t owe him an explanation.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you grabbed him by the arm and picked him up effortlessly, carrying him away from the edge of the rooftop. You set him down on stable ground, saying nothing as you turned to leave.

“Wait,” he called after you, his voice trembling slightly. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Okay? Please, just listen to me.”

You hesitated, your back still to him.

“I didn’t mean to make things harder for you,” he said, his usual confidence completely gone. “I was just... I thought I was being clever, but I wasn’t thinking about what it was doing to you. I just... I wanted to see you. To talk to you.”

His words hung in the air, raw and honest, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around. The rain poured down harder, mingling with the tears that began streaming down your face. You clenched your fists, willing yourself not to break down completely in front of him.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just... stay out of trouble. Please.”

You swung away without looking back, leaving him standing there in the rain, his figure growing smaller and smaller until it disappeared from view.

As the wind whipped past you, the tears kept coming. The frustration, the exhaustion, the overwhelming loneliness—it all spilled out in the safety of the storm. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself cry.

And behind you, on that rooftop, Gojo Satoru stood drenched and motionless, staring after you with an ache in his chest he didn’t fully understand. He had never seen you like that before—so human, so tired, so vulnerable.

And for the first time, he realized just how much he’d taken you for granted.

<^><^><^><^> <^><^><^><^><^><^>

For two whole days, you slept. The world kept spinning, but you didn’t care. You were beyond exhausted—mentally, physically, emotionally. It felt like your body was trying to shut itself down for repairs, and honestly, you welcomed it. After all, who cared about you? Why should you care about the world when no one seemed to care about you?

Meanwhile, Gojo was in his own spiral of chaos. The guilt gnawed at him relentlessly. He couldn’t shake the image of your trembling voice, your soaked figure disappearing into the rain. He knew he’d messed up—badly. He wanted to apologize, to tell you how sorry he was for being selfish, for not thinking about what you were going through. But... how? How was he even supposed to find you? It was like you’d vanished into thin air.

To make matters worse, there was the looming deadline for his big mechanical engineering project. Normally, he wouldn’t be too concerned. He was Gojo Satoru—charming, brilliant, and capable of pulling off a miracle at the last second. But this time, there was a twist. His professor had assigned him a partner: Y/N L/N.

He didn’t even know who that was. Sure, he’d heard the name in passing, but it wasn’t like he paid attention to anyone who wasn’t in his usual circle of admirers or friends. Now, in the middle of his existential guilt-fueled meltdown, he had to deal with the stress of finding a partner he probably wouldn’t recognize if they stood right in front of him.

His friends noticed immediately that something was off. Gojo was usually the epitome of confidence, breezing through life without a care in the world. But now, he was pacing, muttering to himself, and radiating the kind of energy that screamed, I’ve screwed up.

“Okay, what’s going on with you?” Shoko finally asked, leaning back in her chair and eyeing him suspiciously.

“Yeah, you’ve been weird for days,” Geto added, sipping his coffee. “This is, like, the longest you’ve gone without flirting with someone or bragging about yourself. Should we be worried?”

Gojo ran a hand through his damp hair, tugging at the roots in frustration. “It’s Spider-Woman,” he admitted, slumping into a chair.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Shoko groaned, rolling her eyes. “What did you do now?”

“I think I—no, I know I messed up,” Gojo said, groaning into his hands. “I was being an idiot, okay? I kept getting myself into trouble so she’d save me, and... well, she finally snapped.”

“Wait,” Geto said, raising an eyebrow. “Are you telling me Spider-Woman, the literal superhero, got mad at you? What the hell did you do?”

Gojo waved his hands wildly, exasperated. “I just wanted to talk to her! Is that so bad?!”

“Yes,” Shoko and Geto said in unison.

“Ugh, whatever,” Gojo grumbled, burying his face in his arms. “She disappeared after that night. I don’t even know where to find her now.”

“Maybe you should stop obsessing over her and focus on that project,” Shoko suggested, popping a fry into her mouth. “What’s the name of your partner again?”

“Y/N L/N or something,” Gojo said absentmindedly, frowning at the table.

Shoko froze mid-chew, exchanging a quick glance with Geto.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Geto said, trying to suppress a grin.

Gojo blinked at them, confused. “What?”

“Y/N L/N,” Shoko said slowly, smirking. “You mean the quiet girl who never talks to anyone? The one who’s always in the library?”

Gojo’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what? No way. why godddd." he dropped his head to the table and started banging his head.

“Yep,” Shoko said, crossing her arms. “That’s your partner. Good luck, lover boy.”

Now, not only did Gojo have to figure out how to apologize to Spider-Woman, but he also had to track down his elusive project partner—

And honestly? He wasn’t sure which task was going to be harder.

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 08:45 P.M 」

18+ suggestive content! cw. cockwarming. based on this ask and thirst idea in my inbox💁🏻‍♀️ psa: reader makes the first move 🤞🏻

a part of gojo's love entries

“hah—hah, sweets, wait—!”

now, now… what a rare sight. you don’t usually climb on top of your husband and attack him with senseless kisses on your own accord— usually it’s the opposite.

but ever since satoru got you pregnant, and now that you had reached the end of your first trimester, your hormones were at most turbulent, and you could get turned on over random things he did.

“hah—” he groaned, throwing his head back when your sinful lips trailed kisses on his neck, and your hand played with his length, squeezing him and making him harder by each second.

both of you were still fully clothed and he wasn’t even out of his pants yet— you just unzipped and took the prize.

for god’s sake, he thought. you looked so fine taking charge of him and making him writhe like this.

“satoru—” your voice was feathery as you breathed in his neck, before sucking it hard and making him grunt. you let go of his length, pressed your body closer, and then started grinding against him.

in your defense, your husband looked delectable these days. you didn’t know why, but seeing him all happy made you want to keep him inside your pocket or mark him so everyone would know that he was yours.

that even when he casually throws that silly grin to everyone, it is you who have his entire being.

“whoa—” satoru took a sharp breath, wrapping an arm around your waist as you bucked your hips against him. “sexy… what brought this—ah—on?”

“your fault.” you murmured, nibbling on his neck and sneakily unbuttoning his shirt. “you— manspread a lot.”

“huh…?”

“you were baiting me.”

you didn’t give him a chance to react as you devoured his lips next, placing both hands on his neck— suck, suck, suck and bite —and coupled by the feeling of your still clothed slit pressed against his bare cock, satoru grunted and let out a low moan.

“so—haah—spreading my legs… is a crime now, eh?”

“not when—mmm—in front of me.”

“you’re going to be the death— of me.” satoru chuckled, feeling sweat lining all over his body. you were a vixen under the guise of a proper wife—he supposed he already knew that but tonight really drove the fact home.

he was a mess—swollen lips, heavily panting—and damn, now you were trailing sloppy kisses down his chest, and then too near to his crotch—

“don’t t-tease me… sweets.” his voice was rough as he heaved a breath. you had cleverly dragged his inner desire enough for him not to think straight and oh suddenly he had a vision—

“—toru,” and the final straw was your small, needy tone.

with that, his senses went flying out the window. he didn’t really think much when he grabbed you close, slipped his fingers inside your panties to feel your wetness, before tearing it off and turning you over, causing you to fall back into his chest—

—followed by spreading your legs and rolling his hips, and effectively sheathing his hardened cock inside you.

“mphm!” you let out a hitched sigh, feeling so incredibly full all of a sudden.

“well, look at how the tables have turned.” you heard your husband snickering behind you.

you were still trying to catch your breath when you got distracted by his large hand under your dress, spreading across your belly and pressing on your noticeable baby bump ever so slightly.

you let out a mewl and as if he just realized what he did, satoru turned to you. “hey, you okay? is this comfy for you?”

you panted, looking away. “…comfy.”

“well, good. the moment you feel any discomfort, you have to tell me, ‘kay?”

“mm-hmm.”

“wanna move?”

“no, just… stay like this.”

“fine by me,” satoru licked his lips, feeling his hardness throbbing inside your tight folds. even after he had fucked a baby into you, the way you took him inside never failed to leave him breathless.

“well, now on to a more pressing issue…” he turned your chin towards him with his other hand, a giddy grin split his handsome face. “mind telling me, why did you suddenly pounce on me like that, hmm?”

your face burned with embarrassment. you couldn't possibly tell him that he was so irresistible you just had to bite him now, could you?

“can’t i? would you rather i don’t do it at all?”

“trying to evade the question, i see...” satoru’s smile evolved into a knowing smirk. “i seem to recall you finding me attractive for spreading my legs though but whatever. i’m happy either way, so right, let’s resume—”

he tapped your lower belly. “another pop-up quiz: what do you feel more here... me or our baby?”

you squirmed in his lap, feeling him twitch inside you and your entire body set ablaze. god. i’ve picked a wrong fight.

“no response? failing to answer will result in me deducting your marks, you know~”

“...is this your new kink? roleplaying as teacher?”

“i am a licensed teacher, sweets. i’m just putting things to practice~”

you wanted to facepalm. how was it that even in sex he was always finding ways to make you laugh?

“time’s up, little wifey,” satoru chuckled and oh lord, the way his body shook also made his cock vibrate inside you, splitting you further. “for the sake of time and my poor honey’s very delicate condition, i’ll grant your wish.”

you snorted. “what are you on this time?”

“turning your horny thoughts into reality,” he retorted, playfully pursing his lips. “but first thing first, i’ll have to regretfully pull out. we need to change positions. you’ll stay under me and let me do the rest, ’kay?”

you accidentally let out a whine at the sudden feeling of loss—your pussy clenching around nothing. but as he laid you down and discarded his pants, you were met with the bright gleam of his eyes and wicked grin... and you could already feel yourself growing wet once more.

“don’t worry, sweets... i’ll soon make you feel sooo good— just like i always have, yeah?”

✮⋆˙ when satoru is super excited, or mad he spits when he talks. | satoru gojo

this is a funny thought that crossed my mind when i watched jjk 0 again.

whenever he sees you, he’s literally splashing water in your face when he talks.

“oh my god i missed you so much!” boom there’s spit droplets on your face.

at first you didn’t mind, you thought it was something cute he did but deeper down the road you got agitated.

“satoru! calm down… you’re spitting… again.” and it’s a camera panning to you swiping off spit that plastered across your face.

or when he’s very visibly upset and he’s trying to get his point across and spit is flying everywhere.

“stop! i don’t care anymore… just stop talking!” your face was half covered with saliva and you didn’t want the other side covered so you just let him have it.

this was a discussion several times and he says every-time that he’ll stop but you later realized it’s something he couldn’t control so he stopped trying to control it.

“stay over there… please.” you beg of him, you didn’t feel like the waterworks that day.

even when he sneezes he doesn’t think to cover his mouth, he’s very inconsiderate when it comes to that.

but you just ran with the “he can’t help it.” an adult child to be honest.

side note, he’s one of those people who coughs obnoxiously.

ა໒ ˚₊ 𝓼-𝓼𝓸 𝓼𝓸𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓭 𓂃⊹

꒰ satoru gojo x f!reader ꒱ : wc 2,060. c.w. nsfw ﾉ mdni. shower sex. fingering. p in v. creampie. hair pulling. spanking.

it's no surprise gojo satoru loves your body. since you both have gotten together, he's made it blatantly obvious how head over heels he was for you. infatuated would be an understatement.

every dip and curve of your figure sends shudders down his spine, conducting a surge of heat in the pool of his stomach. his hands always meticulously work on you, ensuring you get the best possible treatment from him.

you're never left unsatisfied; satoru always makes sure you cum way before he's even close to finishing. he'd always bring you to the most mind-shattering orgasm you've ever had—you always think, it can't get any better, then he finds a way to make it better.

today was no exception. you stood in the shower, mindlessly washing your hair as you find yourself stuck in a daydream about the activities prior to this. you unconsciously bite your lip, your hand going to turn the water off, until a familiar hand restrained you in your tracks.

"s-satoru…?" you stammer out as his other hand trails down your hip, cold against the flush warmth of your skin. heat immediately rises to your skin as his body heat engulfs your whole frame.

he lets out a soft chuckle against the back of your neck, pressing his lips against your nape and trailing featherlight kisses against the raised goosebumps on your skin. "y'took too long…" he mumbles, voice husk and gravelly. your eyes flit back to him, then up to the running water in the shower. it's splashing in your face, and you can barely focus on his movements as he runs a hand up to your stomach, wrapping around it and pulling you back into him.

"wait... satoru, t-the wate—"

"leave it, leave it." he tugs the wrist he was holding, turning you around to face him. electric blue irises are completely entranced and locked onto the water droplets slowly making their way across your skin. he follows one down the valley of your breasts, down to your navel and eventually your crotch.

he was hypnotised, completely enamoured by your body and your body alone. he slowly moves closer to you, guiding every one of your steps back until you hit the cold porcelain of the wall. you let out a gasp, which was silenced by gojo's lips on yours.

he takes his time, savouring the feel of your lips against his. it's like silken feathers—he deducts—the sensation only proving to draw himself more and more into you. the warmth of the kiss is soon shattered as you pulled away for air, soft little pants escaping your lungs.

his hand cups your cheek, never letting your eyes leave his. gojo's hair was all over the place, water drops dripping down his face and framing it perfectly. he looked heavenly, like an angel directly cast down from above, and you were so situated on admiring his features that you didn't realise how his fingers started to trail down your curves with suggestiveness.

"i want you," gojo leans down to your ear, pressing kisses just where your jaw meets your neck. "s'pretty... i dunno how you expect me to stay calm around you, doll." his tone of voice causes your breath to hitch, along with the fact that his hand had gripped your thigh to hook it onto the side of his hips.

you let out a breathy whimper, trying not to focus on the hot feeling that slowly bunched up in your gut, but gojo knew better, he could read you like a book.

nimble fingers make their way between your folds and it didn't take long for your slick to souse his fingers thoroughly. he lets out a low chuckle, eyes gazing teasingly at you, however you tried to play it off as it simply being the water from the shower, but nothing could make you deny how needy you were right now.

gojo's fingers begin to test his limits, two soft fingertips dipping into your slit and coaxing a flurry of whines from your drooling mouth. your cunt is slowly split open by his fingers alone, gently thrusts accompanying his movements. a suppressed moan escapes from your choked up throat, a sweet melody to his ears, only reeling him into your sweetness even more.

he's now knuckles deep in you, digits brushing against a network of sensitive nerves. they poke and prod, searching between the molten heat for the one burning spot which would rupture the spark ablaze within your body.

they finally press up against your most receptive area, erupting an involuntary moan of pleasure from you. satisfaction pulses through your blood, heating up the crests of your cheeks and displaying the product of his actions in a tangible form. he frees the hand on your thigh to cup your cheek, thumb swiping away the shower water from the ripe redness that begun to brew on the surface of your flesh. he could feel the heat from your body, and it only spurred his own arousal.

your reactions were everything to him; he adored every little jerk of your hips, every twitch of your muscles as his fingers moved back and forth, in and out of your sweet cavern. the palpation of his fingers induced a bout of multiple unique sensations, shuddering within every inch of the brittle restraint you had holding you back.

"a-ah… 't-toru…" your brain had turned to mush, and you felt as if there was no point in talking as all of your words would simply fizz up in the back of your throat, leaving a taste on your senses which could only be described as mind-numbing. it certainly didn't help that just recently gojo had fucked the life out of you, and you were still highly sensitive.

before you could even process anything, gojo's fingers had steadily slipped out of you, pleasure ceasing and consciousness getting chained back to reality.

a pitiful whine rung off the walls as you catch sight of gojo's captivating smirk, but you were effectively silenced as his fingers approach your mouth, completely lathered in an embarrassing amount of your slick.

"open," gojo's breath hitches as you take his fingers in your mouth upon his command, the hypnotic swirl of your tongue along the length of his digits making the heat in his loins stir. "f-fuck… that's it..." his praise only makes you even more flustered, the warm water constantly hitting off of your skin made you feel as if you were physically going to melt in his hold.

he takes his fingers out of your mouth, a barely audible pop accompanying the action.

"can't wait any longer, princess…" both of his hands grasp onto your waist, whirling you around and pressing your front into the cold wall. your breath staggers in surprise, not expecting the sudden change. "want you so badly… you have no idea…" he mumbles into your ear.

he pulls your hips back, a hand on the small of your back and your ass pressed flush against his throbbing erection. he slowly grinds against the plush, trying to hold himself back from going absolutely feral. he could feel the drool pooling on the tip of his tongue, biting his lip as he aligns himself against your dribbling hole. he slowly pushes his hips forward, his girthy cock sinking into your silky, fluttering cunt.

it rips a mewl from your throat, pants and whines from you following every subtle movement of his hips until he was fully buried inside.

gojo takes a moment to savour the feeling, the delicious, addictive way you clamp around him. he takes a moment to steady his breathing, pressing kisses on the back of your shoulders as he slowly drags himself out of you, before quickly thrusting back into the soft, delicate moisture of your pussy.

"s-so wet f'me… shit… feels s'perfect…" he mumbles against your skin, sloppy kisses trailing to the junction where your neck and shoulder connects. his hand slowly and meticulously runs up your spine, following the surges of ecstacy which electrified the tight-knit bundle of nerves crowning your folds.

shortly after, you feel his fingers tangle into your locks, tugging your head back in such a way that you're prettily arched for him, accentuating all the gorgeous features of your body. gojo relished in the sight, drunken on the fact that all of this was his. it drove him mad with lust, brain a muddled haze filled only with thoughts of you, you, you. nothing could ever compare to the feeling of him sinking into your tight cunt, and if he could stay inside of you forever, he would.

each bump of his cock against your walls made you feel lightheaded. all you could think about was him and his dick. you whimper out an unstable plea of his name as his lips place a sizzling kiss to the skin of your neck.

wet slaps echo in your red-tipped ears, the sound reverberating even louder due to the running water. everything was wet, and you could feel almost everything around you. your legs trembled, struggling to sustain your weight as gojo's cock plows into you, the tip kissing the deepest parts of your arousal.

a shiver wracks through your fragile frame, the frothing velvet of your gummy walls sucking gojo in more and more, tempting him with the subtlest of movements.

it edged you closer and closer to your orgasm. you could feel it clouding the depths of your stomach, bubbling and itching to release. you let out a loud squeal as his fingers slither between your folds, swiftly circling over your swollen, aching clit which was practically begging for some sort of attention. your pelvis grinds into the touch, back arching even more as your eyes roll to the back of your skull. white spots flicker in your vision as your orgasm peaks and shatters all throughout you, walls clenching as your pussy coats satoru's cock in sheeny, sticky liquid.

he groans as you cum all over him, a squelching sound being repeatedly made as his thrusts pick up the pace, his hand tightening in your hair as he sucks up a small mark into the very crook of your neck, the bruise blooming a pale purple with slight undertones of red.

shameful noises of pure pleasure are elicited from your lungs as you come down from your high. you're left blinking back the fogginess in your vision as your eyes glance down, looking at the ring of white forming around the base of his length. it made your face heat up in embarrassment, eyes fluttering shut as you let out yet another, pitiful whimper. it didn’t take long for gojo’s restraint to crack, either, because amongst your euphoria, he buries himself to the hilt, letting out a low moan as he releases inside of you’re tight cunny.

it didn't take long for gojo's restraint to crack, either, because amongst your euphoria, he buries himself to the hilt, letting out a low moan as he releases inside of you’re tight cunny.

you take all he has to offer, clinging onto his cock and milking him out of every last drop of his sweet seed. he presses his face into your shoulder as he tries to gulp down sacks of air, his breath shaky on your skin.

he can barely resist staying inside of you for so long, but he eventually pulled out, leaving you feeling empty. a whine of protest slips past your parted lips, to which gojo only chortles.

"more?" he teases you, handing a light, playful smack to your ass, causing you to jolt. "hmm… maybe later, princess." you pout in response, eyes half-lidded and clouded over with your brewing affection.

"satoru…"

"oh, c'mon, don't give me that attitude… you and i both know that if i gave you more here, you wouldn't be able to get yourself out of this shower."

you couldn't protest against his will, because you knew he was right. a soft huff of agreement leaves your nose, the tingling of the euphoric release just underneath the husk of your legs. his hand runs up your inner thigh, watching his release dribble out of your hole, which almost immediately got washed away.

"here… i'll clean you up, gorgeous." he stealthily wraps his arms around your waist, causing you to yelp as you were pulled into a loving kiss. it was slow, gentle yet displayed all of his emotion with a simple action as he pulls you under the water alongside him, a lasting smile on his lips.