˚୨୧⋆｡˚mira˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Perhaps if you weren’t so focused on the rapid, frantic beating of your own heart, you would’ve noticed Satoru’s gaze wander—only to lock right on the clear patch stubbornly covering your neck’s scent gland. You would’ve seen the way his pupils dilate and his tongue swipes over his lips, with hunger written all over his face.

“Well then,” he all but rasps out, voice thick with desire. Without warning, he pulls your body against his with ease, trapping you in the warmth of his arms. Satoru rests his forehead against yours, letting out a groan that is too soft, too vulnerable, too intimate.

He’s so big, you realize. You can hardly believe that you once stood a whole head taller than him. Satoru towers over you, his lean frame completely dwarfing you. His large hands squeeze at your waist as he presses a barely-there, tender peck to your forehead.

You feel like you can’t breathe.

“I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, sweetheart.”

You’ve heard stories about what he’s like in bed; it’s inevitable that as the most desired alpha on campus, he’s gotten around. You don’t expect tenderness or care; if you did, Gojo Satoru is the dead last person to approach. You’re waiting for him to start man-handling you, tearing your clothes off, chasing after the carnal pleasure that only sex can bring. You’ve prepared yourself for that.

Instead, Satoru cups your pretty face between his large hands, running his thumb along your cheekbone. His blue eyes are a swirling pool of emotions, burning with not only lust but something deeper. “Been waitin’ so long for this.” His hushed whisper falls on deaf ears as he leans in to kiss you.

You let out a surprised squeak as his lips press against yours; this isn’t how things are supposed to go. You’re not here to play romance with Satoru—yet, the slow gentle kisses he’s giving you and the gentleness with which he’s holding you are cutting it too close.

“W-Wait,” you gasp out, pulling away to catch your breath. Satoru is panting too, cheeks flushed pink as he stares at you like a man dying of thirst discovering an oasis. His hand trails down your side to rest on your waist, pulling himself forward so he can drop his head against your shoulder. “What are y—“ your words die in your throat as you feel his nose nudge against the most vulnerable part of you.

“You smell so fuckin’ good…” His groan against your neck reverberates through your entire body, shaking you to your very core. Your internal alarm flares to life, blaring loudly in warning. You can’t even pay much attention to that, though, not when—

“Y-You do, too…” The words leave you before you can even process them. You knees feel like jelly as his scent washes over you, deep, musky and addicting. Satoru stiffens against you, huffing out a short breath of frustration.

“You’re gonna kill me.” You feel it. You feel his teeth scrape against the spot your mating bond would be. Satoru knows just as well as you do that you don’t have one, and that if you had things your way, that would never change. He teases the edge of the bandage covering your scent gland, rolling it between his teeth. Your fingers curl into his shirt, tugging nervously.

“N-Not there,” you protest, stumbling over your words in panic. Satoru pauses, and for three very long seconds, neither of you move. The only thing you can hear the is the pounding of your own heartbeat, his shallow pants against your neck, and the hum of the air conditioning.

He’s close, too close—you’re terrified of what he’s capable of, only because you don’t know if you can count on your own willpower to stop him. You’re slowly going limp in his arms, becoming nothing but putty in between his fingers—you’ve never felt so weak.

You hate how he makes you feel. You’ve always hated how he makes you feel. Weak. The world has always told you that you are. You’re nothing but a little omega whose only fate is to be a strong alpha’s obedient mate. You’ve fought back, resisted, protested—yet, Gojo Satoru has always managed to put you right back in your place.

This time is no different. Once again, you find yourself at his mercy. Your stomach boils with bitterness, with anger, with hatred… with longing.

Too slowly, he pulls away from your neck, only to lock eyes with you. “Right.” Satoru’s lips quirk into a crooked grin. “This is just a one-time thing, huh?”

You recognize that smile.

It’s the one that Satoru gave when he broke his mama’s favorite vase and blamed the cat. It’s the one that Satoru gave when he stole a candy bar from the store and got caught by the cashier. It’s the one that Satoru gave when he claimed you were no more than a stranger and left you to fend for yourself through high school.

He’s lying.

Far too late, you realize you’d made a big mistake.

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author’s note: i can’t even lie this little word vomit was just a way to get some gojo thirst off my chest. i’m not even sure if i’ll ever get around to writing a full fic because i’ve been planning this in my head for weeks and there’s so much i want to include. yet i have too little time because of uni :(

if you are interested in being part of a taglist just in case i ever actually get around to writing the full fic, just let me know in the replies.

The little Melusine who handed you the letter wore a bright yet small smile on her face as she stood up straight. "It seems you've caught the eye of His Grace," she says, almost teasingly, though you shook your head. "I wouldn't go as far as to say I've caught the attention of someone like him," you reply with a wry smile, though a part of you silently wishes it were otherwise.

But you had caught his eye, and from far early on too. The Lord of the Fortress of Meropide rarely traveled to the surface. It wasn't every once in a million years, naturally, but, it wasn't a common sight. Most cases, he was there strictly on business and other important matters rather than on vacation.

That, however, changed the moment he saw you. You were breathtaking, and better yet, you were not intimidated by his presence alone. Most people would keep their distance, look away, unable to meet his gaze, and lack the ability to keep their composure around him. But you?

You were perfectly fine being near him, wearing small smiles that gave him absolute butterflies, as much as he hated to admit. You were honest and though maybe partly reserved, still willing to share a proper chat when he approached you. He liked that. Sigewinne noticed.

And he wasn't sure whether he liked the little Melusine nosing around whenever he met you, because for all he knew, she could start getting ideas, and that... wouldn't have been ideal, put it lightly.

Nevertheless, it's easy to say that his visits to the surface became more frequent. He made your acquaintance and quickly enough became friends with you. It was smooth riding so far, and he was finding that the situation was going well for him.

Occasionally, the two of you would talk over a cup of tea and you'd chat about how things had been in your lives, whether maybe you'd lost a pendant you liked, or how there was a coffee you tried somewhere that was rather bitter, or how he had less work than usual, so he decided to spare some time to relax on the surface.

It was fine.

That is until he found out you had fallen in love the past days. But oh no, you were not in love with him. You were in love with someone else. That was the issue. So he began to inquire. How did this person act? How did you meet them? Do you think they'd make a great partner?

Simple questions just to see what was your view of them. 

Don't get him wrong — he's glad that you've found someone you love. He's just upset that the person you've fallen for isn't him. So he then decides to find the person for whom you fell for. It doesn't take long for him to find them, and it's not much effort to convince them that he's only visiting on behalf of business matters.

He returns every so often back to the surface to  meet with you and to keep eyes on your interest, making sure there are no "unwanted" advances between the two of you, and when he's at the Fortress, he simply has to hope that nothing occurs. Having someone work for this type of thing would be rather inefficient and would raise unnecessary suspicions.

Sure, people don't really need to understand what the Duke's motives are, but that doesn't refrain them from filing a report to the Chief Justice about unusual behavior. The two are acquainted, after all, and Neuvillette is more than adept at reading the behavior of humans.

So with that in mind, he decided it was best to do things himself. After all, if you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself. One day, whilst you conversed with Wriothesley, you spoke of how you planned to finally confess. He was immediately interested, and he, of course, listened, even if deep in his mind the person whom you treasured was a pool of blood.

If your confession proved to be successful, he'd have to find a way to slowly seed problems into the relationship. He isn't fond of what he'd have to do, but unfortunately enough, the small feeling of jealousy that has wrapped itself around his heart is eating away at him. 

He'd find the little details that bring you and your significant other apart and slowly begin to rip those traits up to the surface. He'd at times advise you that there were things you should watch out for, given this would be your first time in a relationship (or he'd assume so), and most likely, he'll find a way to tear down the relationship bit by bit and make it seem like it wasn't even his fault. It will appear as if it was just that you were mistaken, that this relationship wouldn't really work out.

That being said, if your confession resulted in a rejection, he'd comfort you. He knows how much it'd hurt having your feelings being rejected like that, and he especially doesn't want you crying for someone else who isn't deserving of causing your sorrow. He wouldn't want you tearing up to the one who had the audacity of even making you cry. He'd probably be mad at the person, but not enough to walk back at them and talk to them about it, as much as he'd wish to rip them into two. He exercises self-control, and somehow manages to control himself.

Depending how the person reacted to your confession, would Wriothesley's anger be gauged. Unfortunately enough for you, and much to Wriothesley's pleasure, you were rejected. Now, don't get him wrong; he wants you to have a successful relationship, but he also doesn't want you being with someone that doesn't deserve you.

So the moment that you come to him, your expression more solemn and down than usual, he already knows what's happened. He invites you over to the Fortress inside to cheer you up and for a change in atmosphere. While taking you to a place meant for imprisonment isn't exactly one's definition of "fun," you were rather curious to see what was the place this man called home.

To your surprise, it was well kept, and didn't look like it was rotting as you thought it would be. He also showed you around his quarters, to let you know where he'd be, and of course he introduced you to Sigewinne, who was more than happy to meet you.

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[| "Y/N, this is Sigewinne, our head nurse." [| "Oh, is this the person you've been rambling on about lately, Your Grace?" [| "... Sigewinne."

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You could've sworn that you saw a small smirk on the Melusine's face because she knew that His Grace was head over heels for you. Of course, you didn't know that, but... she did. You were later on dismissed, and for the next weeks, you stayed at the Fortress, given you met several new people in there and wished to get to know them better.

Wriothesley being the busy man he is, doesn't always have time to get out of his quarters, but god, with you around he can't help but give a few more rounds to the Fortress just to watch you as you go about your day. How he remembers your smiles, when you mentioned to some your hobbies, your interests, and so on so forth...

His gaze often falls on your small frame and his mind will wander to how perfectly it will fit against his larger figure when he's deep inside of you and—

Wriothesley thinks this is wrong. He thinks this is twisted in more ways than one, but he can't bring himself to stop it. He's helpless to the thought of you running your hands through the soft tufts of his hair whilst he holds you to himself, the way your lips would feel when matches them with his own, or how beautiful you'd sound when he inserts his digits into you as you struggle to not moan out his name.

He hates that he can't feel you. It's driving him mad.

Sometimes he's filling in and signing the mountain of paperwork he has on his desk and his mind trails off to you, and archons it's not even a minute before he has to stand up and drink some tea to clear his head. On some occasions, he'll feel so utterly pent up that there's nothing left for him to do than to lock his doors and let his hand soothe his frustrations and urges while he wishes his hand were your own or your mouth instead.

His mind is clouded with thoughts he wouldn't speak of in front of the rest and a part of him feels guilty about feeling in such a way towards you, yet he knows he wouldn't have it any other way. He's completely enthralled by you and obsessed by the thought of being able to claim you as his own.

It grows to the point that every day he sees you becomes unbearable. He can't stand how your sweet voice falls on those who don't deserve to hear it, how you smile at the prisoners whenever you get to speak with them and help them out during their shifts, how your hands sometimes barely brush together when you walk amidst crowds and he swears that a single touch of yours is enough to make him want to pick you up right then and there and fuck you raw away from prying eyes.

He is desperate. And he needs you.

So he decides that today is that day. After a few days of spending time with Sigewinne in order to mix in certain herbs with tea, he ends up with a particularly sweet tea. He reserves it for you. He's pacing in his office before he sits down in a relaxed manner, waiting for you to enter.

And the moment he hears the gentle knocking on his door accompanied by your voice asking for permission to enter, he can already feel his heart hammering. Allowing you to enter, you close the doors behind you, and for a man who's obsessed in every sense of the word, he's certainly composed.

He gestures for you to take a seat, to which you comply, and then he goes off to get the tea. After all, what better way to host a small meeting like this than to talk over a cup of tea? You're able to take in its sweet aroma and taste, and to say you liked it may have been an understatement.

"So how have you been finding the Fortress?" he muses, one leg crossed comfortably over the other. You only smile softly as you respond, taking a quick sip of your tea before answering. "Certainly different than what I expected it to be, but it seems to be managed well."

His Grace only smiles in return, and he then clicks tongue. "Say, have you enjoyed your stay here?" he asks, taking a sip as he waits. "It's been great. While some have a sharp tongue, there are a couple of people who have been good company, even if most of the time I'm around Sigewinne," you answer.

"Speaking of, where has she been?" you state, because now that you thought about it, you hadn't seen the little Melusine around the Fortress recently. Wriothesley just blinks as he then slightly mouths an 'oh.' "She's been off gathering herbs for medicine and treatment," he replies, before finishing the rest of the tea in his cup.

You hum in understanding as you stay still, having finished your own cup as well. "I see. Anyways, thank you for the tea," you reply in gratitude. The Duke only nods, as he remains there, seemingly observing you for any changes.

The two of you keep conversing, but throughout the conversation, you start to take note of something. You feel a little... moist. Perhaps you were exerting yourself too much recently?.. No, that couldn't be it — you felt as if you were getting warm all of a sudden. You couldn't exactly place your finger on what the sensation was.

Additionally, you couldn't exactly shake off the feeling no matter how hard you tried to focus on the man in front of you, and as time passed, you began to lose focus on the conversation you held with Wriothesley and your attention shifted to yourself, your gaze falling in between your thighs, the space feeling rather wet, for a lack of better words, the only thing in your mind being how unusually much you wished to be—

"Y/N?"

Wriothesley's voice snapped you back to the present as you felt blood rush to your face. No, that wasn't right, why were you feeling like this...? This was wrong... The man in front of you could only pretend for so long that he didn't know what was happening, but he wasn't in a far too different situation. The seemingly faint bulge in his pants grew ever slightly, and he was already starting to feel a little trapped and tight in his coat. He knew that you were starting to receive the effects already, so it was only a matter of time.

"Are you feeling well?" He murmurs, placing a hand on your shoulder before giving it a light squeeze, and you can swear that for a split moment you almost shiver. "... I.. it's.. sorry," you manage to murmur as you sigh quietly as you shook your head. "Is it just me, or.. is it getting rather hot in here..?"

Oh, how he wants to laugh.

You almost feel stupid having asked something of the like, and Wriothesley's barely holding himself together as he breathes quietly and calmly. He's on the verge of taking you right here and then, but he decides against it just to see what you'll do. "I feel it too," he replies relaxed, and your eyes seem to slightly light up. "Oh, so it's not just me..? That's at least a bit reassuring..."

He's so fucking desperate. Can't you tell?

And then he asks the magical question. "Why do you think I asked you to come in here?"

You blink, thinking through the question, before answering, a bit perplexed. "Because you wanted to talk...?" you reply. The man chuckles softly, though he shakes his head. "More than that, there was... something else." Confusion begins to run through your mind as you try to inquire as to what he means but before you can say another word, he picks you up, and carries you away as if you were nothing but a feather.

He locks the door to his office, and he walks up the stairs with you in his arms. "Wriothesley, what're you doing?—" you can barely say, your face pressed up against his clothed chest, but he silences you as he lays you flat on his desk.

His firm hands are quick to undo your clothing in your lower body, as he he carefully but easily slides off your undergarments. You can only feel the heat rush through you as your heart pounds. "Wriothesley, what are you—"

And your voice leaves you as you feel him spread apart your legs with his cold fingers, a bitter chill running through your spine as his tongue only starts to tease you by dampening furthermore your already wet folds. You can only bite your tongue to hold in a moan, though it proves futile when he begins to work on your clit, teasing and tracing faint circles with his tongue, causing a few whines to escape your mouth.

You can't tell whether to feel pleasured or scared. Wriothesley gives you no time to think.

He makes no effort to stop whilst you can only grasp and tug his hair, while you nervously and shakily run your hands down his smooth, black locks that glisten beneath the amber lights of his office. It doesn't take much longer for him to reach your entrance, and you clasp your mouth with your hand as you inevitably moan involuntarily. You feel your eyes practically roll back as you try to maintain your gaze focused on the raven-haired male, feeling the wet muscle continuously slipping in and out of your tightened entrance and you're certainly grateful the walls of his office are soundproof.

"Wriothesley, I can't— f-fuck!"

You can't help but squirm, your heart racing as your chest heaves up and down. Your vision is somewhat hazed, your attempts to shift comfortably failing as a new wave of pleasure surges through you as your entrance and clit are endlessly teased and caressed, a pressure building up inside you.

He's eating you out, and you're not even exactly sure if your mind would agree that you enjoy it, but your body sure as hell is, because your senses are getting stimulated beyond possibility. Your breathing is definitely evident and no longer quiet, and you can barely muffle how vocal you're growing until at a moment, you feel him retract at last.

Yet before you're able to question it, he repositions himself above you, and he's pinning your wrists above your head, his knees at either side of you as his imposing figure looms over your body, casting a slight shadow on you. "You sure are — hah — quite loud," he whispers with a teasing smirk edging on his face, his tone of voice growing a bit rasped as he reaches for an item that dangles on his hips — one you're quite familiar with.

Handcuffs.

And before you know it he's clipped them onto you and bound your wrists to his desk above your head, not allowing you to move them, their silver hue glister, glimmering in the dark shadows. "You're fucking mine," he snarls before he kisses you on the lips with fervor, almost as if he might just devour you on the spot if you don't do anything about it.

He's rough and passionate, not giving you a chance to breathe. The sudden ferocity and intensity in his act is more than enough to leave you breathless whilst you try to get used to it, to which he responds with a low growl. It's as if he's been starved for ages and his hunger is to never be sated. He bites down softly on your lower lip, effectively causing you to part your lips, giving him a chance to slide his tongue within.

The rush it gave you was almost feverish, even if it was wrong at its core. He tastes sweet, you think, as your tongues mingle together, the sweetness flooding your palates. Your train of thought was interrupted once more when he finally separated, and you breathed heavily. He was catching his breath, his mouth slightly hung open, giving you a view of the sharp canines he possesses. A small, barely noticeable trail of saliva connected your lips to his own, and he stared down at you, licking his lips to rid the saliva before his gaze landed on your neck. His hands, even with wraps and binds, were cold to the touch as he caressed your soft skin.

You're still catching your breath, blood rushing to your face when you feel him bite into your flesh, a quiet cry akin to a whine leaving you, only fueling his desire. He quietly growls, and he almost seems feral as he licks over the wound, moving quickly to other uncovered areas in your neck as he litters kisses around it. He bites hard and deep, sucking on the skin just enough to leave a couple of hickeys on you.

"You're all mine."

No words are required to be exchanged as he pauses, just leaning back. Seeing your taken-aback expression, he just chuckles softly, his icy gaze combined with the ever earnest smirk he wears already enough to keep you still beneath his iron grip. "I could just eat you up and you'd beg for more, wouldn't you, huh?" He states, his voice sounding like music to your ears.

"Bet you'd want me to fuck you dumb too."

He tugs on his tie, letting it fall loose untied with ease as his coat soon follows, allowing you to gain an exposed view of his scarred body. There's nothing more you'd like than to run your hands through his chest but the handcuffs don't allow you to move your arms in the slightest. He's depriving you of one pleasure, and he relishes in that.

"My eyes are up here, sweetheart."

And god does he love it when you try to avert your gaze in embarrassment, knowing that your eyes had solely been focused on his body. He takes his hand and tilts your chin so you're forced to meet his gaze, and he delights in the way you shudder at his mere touch — he has you at the mercy of his fingertips, he'd bet.

You're being driven mad, something he enjoys — he's no sadist, but he definitely likes seeing you having to put up with the building pressure and urges he held back on this entire time. He decides to toy furthermore with you, as he slowly begins to unclasp the belt around his waist as his pants come off loose.

You know what the man wants.

It doesn't take much time for the rest to come off, and it's very clear to you where this is going. The back of your mind is screaming at you to run, to move, anything, but your body just lies and stays still without making a sound. His hips are pressed into yours, and he has zero hesitation as he begins to slide himself inside you, positioning himself as you whimper, tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes as you feel your walls stretching to accommodate to the sudden, large length that was pushed inside of you. It's too much for you, but he hushes you, caressing your face softly and wiping your tears.

"You're going to take all of it in for me, aren't you? Hah, so fuckin' tight..."

It hurts, and his gentle caresses are a sharp contrast to how he continuously pushes inside you until he finally reaches that place that would make you scream out in pleasure. And he knows it. He's impatient, and won't waste another second, and in just a few more seconds, he's already ramming his hips against yours, bulging cock sliding in and out at a pace you can no longer register.

"God — you're so good for me — no one else is allowed to see you like this, understood?"

The both of you are lost in lust, and your heart hammers in you whilst fear and pleasure courses right through your veins. You get the feeling he's not just pleasuring you — he's marking you, through and through, making sure that by the time you're walking out, people will only perceive his scent on you wherever you go. He wants you and you alone. 

Anyone who wishes to debate his posture is more than welcome to have a word with him in the ring.

You're barely able to choke out his name as he fucks you senseless, giving you no space to plead or speak at all, for that matter. The only noise you get out are your helpless moans as you shudder from each thrust. He's feral, hungry and starved for your love, and he wants to consume every bit of it.

"Wriothesley — fuck — I-"

If it weren't for the fact he's fucking you to oblivion on his desk, he'd probably find it amusing how helpless you've become in the span of a few minutes. He loves it. Your eyes are half-lidded and brimming with tears, your moans resounding through the entirety of his office, to which thankfully, there is no one else within except the two of you. You might've not registered it but you're sure he's already torn through all the clothes covering your chest too, leaving you now entirely exposed and vulnerable to his touch.

You start to feel the building pressure you had before, and your breathing is labored, heavy. You don't think you can take this for much longer, your folds wet and walls tightening around his cock. You really weren't sure how in hell you were going to fit all of it in, but you seemed to be taking it rather well.

Your synchronized moans and his groans paired together combine, slowing into a perfectioned, rhythmic catharsis as you finally reach your climax, your fluids coating him and staining the firm material beneath you, to which you can't help but wonder how exactly does he plan to clean.

Yet as you finally release, he still doesn't stop. He's not stopping, not yet, not when he's finally got you fucked over and whimpering, helplessly begging him to cum inside of you. All of your senses and inhibitions have been tossed aside, leaving you a forlorn, flustered mess. He craves you, he might just devour you, he's unable to contain himself.

"You look so adorable when you beg, yeah? So wet and tight for me, 'M just gonna have to keep going for you..."

He is relentless. By the time he cums, you're already left breathless, voice broken and unable to say a thing other than a quiet whine. He's breathing heavily, letting his seed settle within you as his residual flows leak through your thighs, painting you as his own.

"Hah... that look in your eyes.. you wanna be rewarded, don't you? 'M just gonna have to stuff you full, hm?"

He nuzzles his head in your neck, letting the soft tufts of his hair caress your skin softly. He's still inside you, his cum still leaking through your thighs and out of your worn-out, throbbing pussy. Slowly, he slides out of you, earning a faint, muffled hum akin to that of a moan as you catch your breath. "Wrio..." you mumble out, and he presses a light kiss to your neck, right on a mark he left by earlier.

"'M gonna fill you up and make you cum 'till you can't think..." he murmured, one of his hands soothingly caressing your neck as he runs his hand through your back, his other, free hand reaching down towards your wet folds, his fingertips tracing lazy circles on your clit as he teases you gently, causing a few moans and whimpers to escape you. "'M gonna breed you.. make you all mine, darlin'."

He inserts two of his digits inside you fervently, fingering you, keeping you wet and tight as you squirm from his touch. He pulls in and out, unending and denying your pleads to stop. "P-please, Wrio — fuck — I can't-" He ignores your cries. Instead, he presses kisses across your jawline until meeting your lips, keeping you encased, trapped in a passionate kiss whilst being pleasured to no end.

"You can take it. Easy there, love."

You only respond with a whine as you feel yourself slowly reach your climax again, fluids seeping through your body and covering his digits, that slowly pull out with a wet sound. Your mouth is slightly hung open, your face with faint tints of red hidden by your disheveled hair, your body numb and almost limp.

The black-haired man simply held you tight, holding you close, never letting go, his voice whispering to you sweet nothings. His grip was tight, and unbeknownst to you, tears slowly smeared, falling across your face. You felt filthy. You felt violated. Anything but loved. And you knew more than ever, that from this day forth, you'd only ever be his.

His to love. His to hold.

For a night and forevermore, you were solely his to behold.

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IF IT’S ONLY A TOUCH…AITA? by @tteokdoroki This one is so good and the most recent one I read. It's the perfect amount of angst and smut. It does have some descriptions of the reader having braids, darker skin, and brown eyes so if you don't like when it's not vague about how the reader looks then this is probably not for you. However, those descriptions do not match me at all and I didn't have a problem while reading at all. I think you should definitely give it a read if you like the brother best friend trope!

BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND by @cptnleviackerman This one was so good for it only having so few notes. definitely go hype this one up because it deserves it. Read the tags before you continue on though because some of the themes could be triggering! Other then that this one was super good.

HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO FUCK YOUR BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND? (FOUR WHOLE DAYS) by @saetoru SOOO GOOD. I love this fic so please go check this one out!

CRYBABY. by @ieirism AHHHH I FORGOT ABOUT THIS ONE. This one was soooooo goood. It is really fluffy and has so much sweet satoru. love love love.

TELL ME YOU DON'T WANT ME by @awearywritersworld I completely forgot about this one but from what I can remember it was really sweet. All angst and fluff and omg their dynamic after sugurus death is just so sweet.

Perhaps if you weren’t so focused on the rapid, frantic beating of your own heart, you would’ve noticed Satoru’s gaze wander—only to lock right on the clear patch stubbornly covering your neck’s scent gland. You would’ve seen the way his pupils dilate and his tongue swipes over his lips, with hunger written all over his face.

“Well then,” he all but rasps out, voice thick with desire. Without warning, he pulls your body against his with ease, trapping you in the warmth of his arms. Satoru rests his forehead against yours, letting out a groan that is too soft, too vulnerable, too intimate.

He’s so big, you realize. You can hardly believe that you once stood a whole head taller than him. Satoru towers over you, his lean frame completely dwarfing you. His large hands squeeze at your waist as he presses a barely-there, tender peck to your forehead.

You feel like you can’t breathe.

“I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, sweetheart.”

You’ve heard stories about what he’s like in bed; it’s inevitable that as the most desired alpha on campus, he’s gotten around. You don’t expect tenderness or care; if you did, Gojo Satoru is the dead last person to approach. You’re waiting for him to start man-handling you, tearing your clothes off, chasing after the carnal pleasure that only sex can bring. You’ve prepared yourself for that.

Instead, Satoru cups your pretty face between his large hands, running his thumb along your cheekbone. His blue eyes are a swirling pool of emotions, burning with not only lust but something deeper. “Been waitin’ so long for this.” His hushed whisper falls on deaf ears as he leans in to kiss you.

You let out a surprised squeak as his lips press against yours; this isn’t how things are supposed to go. You’re not here to play romance with Satoru—yet, the slow gentle kisses he’s giving you and the gentleness with which he’s holding you are cutting it too close.

“W-Wait,” you gasp out, pulling away to catch your breath. Satoru is panting too, cheeks flushed pink as he stares at you like a man dying of thirst discovering an oasis. His hand trails down your side to rest on your waist, pulling himself forward so he can drop his head against your shoulder. “What are y—“ your words die in your throat as you feel his nose nudge against the most vulnerable part of you.

“You smell so fuckin’ good…” His groan against your neck reverberates through your entire body, shaking you to your very core. Your internal alarm flares to life, blaring loudly in warning. You can’t even pay much attention to that, though, not when—

“Y-You do, too…” The words leave you before you can even process them. You knees feel like jelly as his scent washes over you, deep, musky and addicting. Satoru stiffens against you, huffing out a short breath of frustration.

“You’re gonna kill me.” You feel it. You feel his teeth scrape against the spot your mating bond would be. Satoru knows just as well as you do that you don’t have one, and that if you had things your way, that would never change. He teases the edge of the bandage covering your scent gland, rolling it between his teeth. Your fingers curl into his shirt, tugging nervously.

“N-Not there,” you protest, stumbling over your words in panic. Satoru pauses, and for three very long seconds, neither of you move. The only thing you can hear the is the pounding of your own heartbeat, his shallow pants against your neck, and the hum of the air conditioning.

He’s close, too close—you’re terrified of what he’s capable of, only because you don’t know if you can count on your own willpower to stop him. You’re slowly going limp in his arms, becoming nothing but putty in between his fingers—you’ve never felt so weak.

You hate how he makes you feel. You’ve always hated how he makes you feel. Weak. The world has always told you that you are. You’re nothing but a little omega whose only fate is to be a strong alpha’s obedient mate. You’ve fought back, resisted, protested—yet, Gojo Satoru has always managed to put you right back in your place.

This time is no different. Once again, you find yourself at his mercy. Your stomach boils with bitterness, with anger, with hatred… with longing.

Too slowly, he pulls away from your neck, only to lock eyes with you. “Right.” Satoru’s lips quirk into a crooked grin. “This is just a one-time thing, huh?”

You recognize that smile.

It’s the one that Satoru gave when he broke his mama’s favorite vase and blamed the cat. It’s the one that Satoru gave when he stole a candy bar from the store and got caught by the cashier. It’s the one that Satoru gave when he claimed you were no more than a stranger and left you to fend for yourself through high school.

He’s lying.

Far too late, you realize you’d made a big mistake.

-

author’s note: i can’t even lie this little word vomit was just a way to get some gojo thirst off my chest. i’m not even sure if i’ll ever get around to writing a full fic because i’ve been planning this in my head for weeks and there’s so much i want to include. yet i have too little time because of uni :(

if you are interested in being part of a taglist just in case i ever actually get around to writing the full fic, just let me know in the replies.

for a moment it is completely silent, they are too terrified to open their mouth, afraid that at any moment anything could set him off even more. 

“t-the gardens…gojo-sama” one mumbles softly. 

without a second thought, satoru starts walking towards his wife’s said destination. as he makes it to the garden, he notices you almost immediately, all the anger built up is suddenly gone.

you’re kneeling in the middle of a patch of dirt surrounded by more than a dozen different species of flowers that you had diligently taken care of over the years. and from the looks of it, you're planting a new bundle of white lilies that satoru vaguely remembers you mentioning the week prior.

“you’re late,” you call out indifferently, your back still facing him. 

“so this is how you punish me?” 

“it’s called gardening, satoru,” you bite back, making him grumble in dissatisfaction as he takes a few steps closer to your kneeling form. 

“we have servants for that.” 

“must you be so hard on them?” you ask, referring to his previous interactions with them before finding her. how you knew about everything that happened in their home was beyond him. 

“i can’t help it when it comes to you.”

“oh? not so strong after all, hm?” you tease.

“not with you,” he confesses comfortably. 

everything comes easy with you. he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not. when he’s with you, he’s not the head of the gojo clan or the strongest sorcerer in the world, he’s simply just gojo satoru. which is one of the many reasons why he cherishes you so much. you make him feel like he doesn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders anymore. he can finally be himself. 

“well they are very important to me,” purposely ignoring his previous confession. 

“are you trying to make me jealous?”

“depends. is it working?” he can practically hear the smile in your voice, making his heart melt instantly. 

“come here, i want my wife. i haven’t seen her all day,” he commands, which you obey without a fight.

he watches you stand up from the ground, wiping your hands against the expensive silk fabric of your kimono, trying to brush off the remaining dirt that clung onto you. your hair is no longer in a perfectly slicked-back bun, instead, it's a disheveled mess with tiny hairs poking out in every direction. 

but none of that matters. to him, you look perfect. he could care less about your dirty kimono, messy hair, or even the dirt that sticks to your skin.

“so demanding today,” you say, continuing to poke fun as you step closer to your husband. 

“would you rather I beg?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, suddenly feeling bold. 

“only if you get on your knees doing it", you purr in response, shattering all the confidence he had built up.

you reach out for him, your hand slipping past the neck of his kimono, letting it wander over his chest. you effortlessly loosen the tight fabric, slightly pulling it open to place gentle kisses on the countless scars scattered on him. his breath gets caught in his throat at the feeling of your soft lips against his skin. he feels like a teenager again, you always make him feel like his self-control is dangling by a thread.

“don’t tease,” he lets out a shaky breath, grabbing your waist for support. 

“who said anything about teasing?” 

“my love..” he lets out a strained whine. 

“it’s nothing you can’t handle, gojo-sama” you whispered with feigned innocence, looking up at him through your lashes, your hand slowly trailing lower and lower already passing the obi of his kimono.  

he moves his hands to your face, cradling your cheeks and hovering his mouth dangerously close to yours. he wants to tease you, make you break. he wants to so desperately make you understand how you make him feel. he wants to make you lose control.

standing up on your tippy toes, you close the distance and bring him into a kiss. he almost moans immediately at the feeling of how perfect your lips feel against his. he’s about to give in entirely as he feels your tongue teasingly lick his bottom lip when he hears a tiny voice behind him.

“papa? mama?” 

you’re the first one to pull away, leaving your husband in a lovesick daze. it takes him a moment to fully recover and come back to reality. but it’s easy once he turns around and sees you swiftly move past him to pick up your daughter, resting her on your hip with ease. 

“hi my sweet girl,” satoru greets lovingly as he brings her hand to his lips, their daughter’s giggles getting louder with every kiss. 

“papa, I missed you,” she whines with an adorable pout, something she definitely learned from you. 

although she inherited every single prominent physical trait from him, including his white hair and bright blue eyes. he always tells you he's convinced that she got her charm from you, because there is no other logical reason why he's as smitten with her as he is with you.

“i’m sorry to keep you waiting little one,” he apologizes profusely as he leans forward to blow raspberries on her chubby cheeks, earning another loud giggle on her end as well as yours. the sound of your combined laughter is music to his ears.

he smiles, completely enamored at the sight of the two of you, praying that this moment will never end. 

author's note: this was really fun to write! tbh, i saw that fanart and was immediately inspired. i think i'm just obsessed with clan head gojo...

gojo satoru does not believe in love. 

he grew up with parents who never fully saw each other as anything other than business partners. even at a young age, he noticed how much resentment they held towards one another. which only conditioned him further into believing that love was not real. or it might be real but not for someone like him. love was a luxury that even someone with unlimited money and power could not afford. 

satoru believed that love was entirely transactional. he knew that he would have to marry someone from another powerful clan that would strengthen their bond and bloodline. he accepted the fact that he may not love his partner but that he would just have to learn to coexist with her instead. 

so when he meets you for the first time, he may not have noticed it then but his principles are already beginning to crack. he sees you for the first time at a clan meeting that consists of multiple different clans throughout japan. satoru can’t exactly pinpoint it but you immediately catch his eye, so much so that he finds himself letting his eyes linger on you more than he wants to initially admit. 

satoru isn’t immune to a pretty face, so a part of him isn’t surprised at how he has taken an interest in you. what does come as a shock is how his mother has taken a liking to you. it seems as though he is not the only one who notices how you give your undivided attention when the elders speak and how your eyes light up if anyone speaks to you directly. it’s clear how you want to play a role in clan politics but you were never given the ability to and most likely never will. he wonders if his mother somehow sees herself in you. a woman with ambition stuck in a man’s world.

this then leads to his mother having the bright idea of bringing you around. she likes the idea of the new generation kicking out the old just like how her son dreams of doing. she wants to bring you under her wing and guide you in ways that will help shape the jujutsu world for the better. she sees potential in you and doesn’t want it to go to waste.

his mother disguises your meetings as merely tea time or gardening lessons in order to trick satoru’s father. who is an old-fashioned man who would never see a woman as someone who could be in a position of power, a belief that satoru deeply resents him for. 

in the beginning, satoru doesn’t have the opportunity to exchange many words with you. It was only ever in passing when you would brush past each other in the many hallways of the gojo estate. but even then you rarely said much to him, you merely graced him with a warm smile which he never seemed to get used to no matter how many times he saw it.

out of the whole estate, satoru’s favorite spot is his study room. it’s one of the only places where he can do whatever he pleases in peace. the staff know not to ever bother him in this room, it’s his own little haven. but this room, in particular, is his favorite when you visit because it just so happens that his study room has the perfect view of the garden. the same garden that you coincidentally spend many afternoons in with his mother.  

satoru is the opposite of self-conscious, he can be pretentious and egotistical, especially around women. but that doesn’t feel right when he’s around you. your presence makes him feel small and when you look at him, it’s almost as though you see right through his facade and it frightens him. so he is content with admiring you from afar. 

as your visits continue, he also notices how happy his mother looks. he realizes that she's found companionship and she looks alive again. you take care of her as well as keep her busy so she is no longer alone at home all day. seeing her happy makes him feel a sense of satisfaction, knowing that he doesn’t have to worry about her as much. 

“oh satoru, would you like to join us for tea?” his mother asks, as he walks past the two of you enjoying freshly brewed tea. 

you shoot him a welcoming smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes. it never does. 

“i'm busy,” he responds emotionlessly. 

it isn’t until a few hours later that his mother runs into him with you by her side. “satoru, do you mind escorting our guest out? her ride should be waiting for her but i would hate for her to walk out on her own.”

he’s hesitant at first but obliges when he sees his mother’s pleading stare. as the two of you step outside, it is for the most part silent and although it isn’t a far walk it feels like it's miles long. satoru has never been this close to you before and he has to force himself to not stare for too long, but he finds it difficult when you’re practically glowing in the afternoon sun. 

“it's rude to stare.”

“excuse me?”

“whenever i’m in the gardens,” you state casually as you turn to look at him, your eyes cold and hard to read. 

he wants to say something, but he’s too caught up in his own jumbling thoughts. how did you know? he’s practically begging his body to react but the words get stuck in his throat.

so you take this opportunity to continue, “for a busy man you seem to have a lot of time on your hands,” your tone sends a shiver down his spine.

“i-”

“it looks like my ride's here, as always thank you for your hospitality gojo-sama,” you dip your head down in respect before turning around without even letting him finish his sentence. leaving him tongue-tied in front of his own estate. 

for weeks nothing changes on your end after that interaction, on the other hand, for satoru he feels like he’s stuck in a one-sided game of cat and mouse. He’s trapped in a never-ending cycle while you refuse to even give him the time of day. but he notices that your demeanor begins to change after one particular afternoon. 

“i wasn’t aware your son taught the students from jujutsu high,” you casually mention, your attention lingering back to where satoru is training two young boys in the courtyard. 

his mother turns her head to follow your line of sight, “he volunteers his time every so often. satoru likes to offer his expertise in order to aid their growth as sorcerers. he has a lot of faith in them.”

“is that so?” you mutter under your breath, trying to ignore the overwhelmingly warm sensation in your stomach as you watch him patting their head endearingly. 

you rarely ever see the gojo heir smile but in the presence of those two boys, the way he carries himself is completely different. the tender interactions between them only make your feelings more complicated. 

after that, the two of you find yourself bumping into each other more often. this only leads to the two of you spending more time together. his reluctance to participate in your afternoon tea time with his mother eventually dissipates. he enjoys it more than he would like to admit, he’s able to talk freely about his own plans on how to change the order of the jujutsu world. but he especially appreciates when your real personality comes out. you're witty and strong-willed and you’re just as passionate about overturning old-fashioned traditions as he is. after spending just a few hours with you he understands why you’ve left such an impression on his mother. 

one day, you arrive in a beautiful cerulean kimono and he can't take his eyes off you. when you’re inches away sitting next to him while sipping your tea, he can’t focus on anything his mother is saying to the two of you because he’s so mesmerized by you. so when you turn to him with a raised brow, obviously aware of his unwavering attention, he feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment and his stomach doing somersaults. 

“i like this color on you,” he states as he gently tugs the sleeve of your blue kimono. 

“do you?” you ask, surprised at his compliment.

he nods and places a firm hand on the small of your back as he escorts you to the car waiting to pick you up in front of his estate.

from that day forward, he only ever sees you wear a shade of blue making it even harder for him to stay away.

“are you relieved that your father has named you his successor?” you ask him unexpectedly one afternoon, the two of you alone in his study room.

the tea had already gone cold and the conversation had grown stale but he didn’t mind because he enjoys your company. he glances up from the paperwork he is trying to finish to see you staring at him intently. 

“what is there to be relieved about? he chose me because i’m the strongest, there isn’t much else to it. they wouldn’t care about me otherwise,” satoru says, trying not to come off as bitter but you instantly see right through it. 

since the day he was born, he has never been seen as anyone but the strongest, and at this point, he has convinced himself that without that title he was nothing. 

“satoru” you call out to him, he looks up at you again. 

“you are a fool if you think that your power defines who you are. you may be the strongest sorcerer in the world, but you are also gojo satoru. the same gojo satoru who wants to use his strength to help others and change the jujutsu world. you are defying our outdated traditions in order to protect others. to me, that is what makes you the strongest.” 

prior to that day, he had convinced himself that it was merely a physical attraction, infatuated with the idea of seeing you in his bed. but as your words sink in things start to change and he begins to wonder if there is more to his feelings for you. 

he doesn’t fully recall what happens next because it all feels like a dream after that. what he does remember is leaning over his large mahogany desk to cup your face in his hands to bring you into a kiss. although it is your first kiss together he’s grasping you like it's your last, afraid that if he lets you go you’ll slip through his fingers like water. 

he thinks that everything is worth it. all the loneliness and all the pain was worth it because being with you made it all disappear. everything just feels so right in that moment and if this was all a figment of his imagination, he didn’t want to wake up.

your relationship becomes more than a companionship and turns into something deeper. it’s so blatantly obvious but neither of you want to acknowledge it. but as the days continue to pass, satoru finds it harder and harder to bury a persistent desire that continues to gnaw his insides. 

one summer night, months after your first kiss, only solidifies his suspicions when you’re in his bed crying out his name like a prayer. he knows that there’s no one else but you. you were made just for him and he exists for you. but then when you let ‘i love you’ slip for the first time, he doesn’t respond and so in the morning when he wakes up and you’re already long gone, he feels empty again. 

things start to take a turn after that when you start to outwardly avoid him, embarrassed by your one-sided confession. you don’t come around anymore; if you do, it is strictly to see his mother only. If by the chance of the gods you do run into each other, you merely smile at him without another word. but satoru can’t help but notice how distant your eyes are when you look at him again as if you put up an impenetrable wall that even he could not break. 

satoru doesn’t like a chase. he is repulsed at the idea, he’s used to things being handed to him. when you avoid him like the plague, he almost doesn’t even know how to react. he’s infuriated at first, burying himself in his own work. so it comes as a surprise when you enter his study room out of the blue. he stands up immediately when he notices your presence, his heart jumping out of his chest at just the mere sight of you. 

“satoru, I have news.” 

“what is it?” he asks, suddenly feeling the severity of your tone. there is a moment of silence, you’re standing so still and it's almost as though you are still trying to swallow down what you are about to tell him. but there is no amount of time that could have prepared him for what you say next. 

“i am betrothed. i will be married before the new year.”

he sees your mouth moving but he doesn’t hear a single thing you’re saying. he’s too caught up in the feeling of his world crashing in on itself. he feels like he’s stuck in a nightmare and this time he’s begging to wake up but he sees no end to it. 

“so I think we need to stop this, whatever this is.”

“is that what you want?” he asks quietly, still in a daze. 

“yes.”

so he keeps his distance, and he comes to the conclusion that caring for you also means respecting your decision, no matter how much he hates it. but as the wedding date creeps closer and closer, he feels as though everything he does has lost its meaning. his mother is the first to notice his sudden change in mood and how secluded he becomes.

“sometimes love is worth the risk. she needs you, just as much as you need her,” she tells him one evening. she wants to tell him how lucky he is because she would kill to experience the same type of love. she dreams of breaking the cycle of a loveless marriage and that she hopes satoru is the one to do it. 

but she doesn’t get the chance to say all of that because he’s already gone.

satoru is a man of honor. but for you, he was willing to put everything on the line. even if being with you meant giving up everything then he would without even a second thought. he knew it from the moment he met you, he was just too willfully ignorant at the time to come to terms with it. 

so when you hear relentless pounding on your door in the middle of the night, satoru is the last person you expect. 

“satoru? What are you doing here?” your eyes wide in shock, afraid of the implications that would come about if anyone saw gojo satoru at your front door at midnight. 

“don’t marry him.”

“what?” you whisper breathlessly.

“i don’t want you to-” he starts to say as he reaches out for your hand but you take a step back trying your best to get out of his reach. but every step you take is matched by him and you’re so overwhelmed by his presence you can hardly breathe.

“stop!” you yell, taking him by surprise. he’s never seen you lose your composure before but there you are standing in front of him, your eyes already welling up with tears and your lip quivering. “you’re being selfish.”

“call me selfish,” he nearly begs, cupping your face in his hands. “say whatever you want but that doesn’t change anything.”

“what are you trying to say,” you whisper in defeat, hypnotized by the way he’s now holding you against his body. 

“what i’m trying to say is, i’m in love with you and i don’t want another day to go by without you by my side.”

gojo satoru doesn’t believe in love until he meets you.