Ludmila

You crossed your arms and pouted. You’d been tarrying about your father’s study for the last hour, hoping he’d change his mind. But tonight, no matter how you twisted and turned your words, he seemed determined to remain unswayed.

Frankly, it was annoying you to no end. Your father had always been resolutely obstinate, but rarely when it concerned you. Every bloodsucker, far and wide, freshly turned and centuries old, knew that the King of Vampires, Sukuna, could never deny his daughter her heart’s content. You were the apple of all four of your father’s eyes, and all you had to do was simply exist.

It had been this way since the beginning. You occupied the largest wing in the castle, which was redecorated every season according to your mood, while the furniture in Sukuna’s own wing remained as permanent as the prime immortal himself, unchanging since the dawn of time. You loved roses, so Sukuna had captured employed a team of alchemists and gardeners to drape the expansive gardens with every imaginable species of the flower, and to ensure they were in perpetual bloom all year round, including winter. Whenever you attended any of your father’s audiences, it was customary to greet you first before Sukuna, and whenever you were absent, it was customary to ask after your well-being before uttering anything else. The more creative a compliment towards you that one could conceive, the more inclined Sukuna was to listen to their plights.

No request you made, however fanciful, however outrageous, was too much for Sukuna to grant. 

Except this. Except when it concerned Satoru Gojo.

“What if I bring Uraume along?” you tried again. “Certainly you won’t object to that.”

“It changes nothing. And Uraume is busy. The blood moon is less than a month away, and there is much left to be prepared for the Red Feast. Our pens are not yet fully stocked. I should like to avoid feeding our guests rat wine during the night of my daughter’s betrothal announcement.”

“Then all the more you should let me go out tonight,” you pressed. “Since, my dear father, I have yet to decide who I wish to be betrothed to.”

“Mmm, and you seem to be taking your own sweet time with it.” Sukuna raised an inquiring brow at you. “I should think a hundred years was long enough for you to find someone to your liking. And since we’re on the topic of suitors, this Zenin boy you are so insistent on meeting tonight—I was under the impression that my daughter had better tastes than that.”

“What’s wrong with Naoya?”

Sukuna did not look amused. “Only in so much as I believe him to be a waste of your time. The boy has no respect for our ways and behaves like a rabid gutter rat during hunting season. If he weren’t a Zenin, I’d have him staked out under the sun by now.”

“Well, I disagree. He’s been perfectly nice to me.”

“Everyone is nice to you, my dear. Unless they’d like to perish most painfully. And I said the boy is a waste of time, I never said he was stupid. He’s a power hungry maniac—“

“Speak for yourself, father.”

“Yes, but I am powerful. The Zenin boy merely thinks he is, in which, he is sadly mistaken. You are my only daughter. The Crown Princess of the Night. You will be the Queen of Vampires when I retire. I’d hoped you’d at least settle on someone more… amenable. Someone who delights in giving you everything as much as I do.”

“But he stirs something in me, father.” You didn’t want to say it was because Naoya gave good head. “And he’s always bringing me gifts. Like tonight. He said he has something he wants to show me, and that I won’t want to miss it.”

“There is not much difference between wanting something and pure stupidity.”

“Are you calling me stupid?”

“Far from it, but you will be if you insist on going out, which you will not. I do not wish to wake tomorrow night only to discover I am short of a daughter.”

Naturally, for someone who was used to getting everything you wanted, hearing the word ’no’ was an unusual experience. You weren’t used to it, and you certainly didn’t like it.

Your beaded slippers tapped the cold stone floor with equal persistence. You huffed. “I fail to see what’s so dangerous about this slayer. It’s all merely rumours. Surely if he’s so incompetent, then there’s nothing to be worried about Satoru Go—“

Your father’s answering growl was vicious, causing you to hesitate. The glow of the candelabras caught in all four of his ancient eyes, and you saw that his irises had deepened from a glittering crimson to icy black voids. 

“Never speak his name in these walls.” But Sukuna must have caught your slight flinch, because his tone softened immediately. He sighed, and put down the tome he was reading, finally paying you his full attention. “Ask yourself this, daughter—if there are rumours abound of a singular individual, then is there not some truth to them? Incompetent he may be, but there is a reason he is called the Six Eyes. And if he truly is as lousy as they say, then why have none of our kind managed to survive an encounter with him?”

You frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. If no vampire has survived the Six Eyes, then who is spreading all these rumours? And how do we know they’re true?”

Sukuna watched you in silence, as impervious as the gargoyle statues carved into the castle’s exterior. His fingernails, sharpened to wicked points, rapped against the intricately carved mahogany desk before him. 

“That is a story for another day, dear daughter,” he said at last, and picked up his tome. “The only thing you need to be concerned of tonight is staying within the castle grounds. I’m certain you will find something to occupy yourself with for one night. Go torture one or two of the gardeners should it please you. But if you do feed on any of them, remember to let Uraume know so we can find a replacement.” 

He waved one of his four hands, signalling that your conversation had come to an end. 

You wanted to argue. Wanted to stomp your foot and demand he put that tome down again. But you resisted. You were smarter than that. Your father might acquiesce to most of your wishes, but he wasn’t a pushover. Whining he could take, but a tantrum you knew for a fact he wouldn’t tolerate. His default mood was already surly, and toying with his temper by showing your own was a bad way to go about it. 

No. Safer to just do it behind his back. 

Which was why the moment you left your father’s study, you announced to your servants you were going to sulk and wished to be left alone, then proceeded up to the castle’s highest tower, and leapt right out the window. 

Your eyes closed, savouring the sensation as you plummeted down and down and down. The thrill of it. And when you opened them again, you saw that the ground had nearly swallowed up the distance. You grinned.

Not yet. Not until the last seconds. 

A rise in your chest. A tingle. A beat? You clutched on to the feeling. A feeling you couldn’t name but could not resist chasing. 

Three…Two…One… the ground expanded around you.

You shifted.

Great membranous wings sprouted out your back, unfurling. Then you were soaring up and away, into the night sky, the cold winter winds beating against your colder skin, and with your back to the moon, you flew further and further away from the cliffside castle you called home, headed for the forest. 

Up here, among silence and the stars and pale, silvery light of the moon—the only light you ever knew—your breaths eased, and you could not help but wonder if this feeling was as close to what the humans described as peace. 

For vampires did not feel like humans did, yet it fascinated you so. That all it took was a beating heart to conjure an unfathomable amount of emotions, and if you dared admit, was the one thing about humans you envied. Because the thing in your chest—if you even had one—had never once moved. It was still when you were born, and would remain so for eternity.

You spotted the clearing where you were to meet Naoya, the midpoint between the castle, the Zenin Estate and the human settlements. But you remembered your father’s warning about the Six Eyes. That Satoru Gojo was on the hunt tonight. Your predator’s vision zoomed in like a magnifying glass, searching through the darkness of the trees below. 

You saw Naoya. He was in his vampire form. The idiot. Every creature of the night knew to hide their true form this close to the human settlements. No one wanted to scare their food away. If word spread that a vampire was skulking about nearby, the towns would go into lockdown, merchants would stop travelling through the forest routes, and the slayers would be deployed in droves. There would be no food for the vampires to hunt. They’d have to live off animal blood for weeks, a poor substitute compared to their usual sustenance. 

And then you realised Naoya wasn’t alone. He was kicking something on the ground. Something small and limp—

A human. 

You descended, your wings angled for a quick landing, diving into the shadows of the forest. The moment your feet touched the snow-covered ground, silent and swift, you immediately shifted into your human form. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you hissed, not bothering to greet him. 

Naoya turned around, eyes glinting in the darkness. His arms spread out in welcome. “Finally. Took you long enough. It’s not nice to keep your betrothed waiting, princess. I was growing bored and was about to start without you.”

“You’re not my betrothed yet. And is that...“ Your eyes widened at the bloody lump of flesh, unmoving on the dirty snow. 

“Your gift. To celebrate our union.” Naoya grinned, fangs flashing. “Don’t worry, it’s alive. Barely. But still breathing. I’d never feed you expired produce.”

“Naoya, that is a child.” 

“So it is. Females are always so perceptive, aren’t they?” Naoya spared a glance at the prone body. A girl that looked not even past ten years of human age. “Go on. Have the first bite. Or we can do what we usually do—you may feed on it while I feed on that cunt of yours. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, my little slut—”

“We’re not supposed to feed on children,” you cut him off. “It’s against our rules, and the pact my father made with the first mortal king. You know this. Hunting them down this young will only dwindle our supply.”

But Naoya seemed genuinely surprised. “You’ve never tried a child before? And here I am thinking you’re not as innocent as you make yourself out to be.”

You stared at him. “How long have you been feeding on children?”

Naoya shrugged. “Long enough to know they taste better than aged blood. They’re sweeter. Fresher. Like a clear, crystal lake.” He grabbed the child, dragging its body through the slush of snow and earth before dumping it in front of you. “There’s a first time for everything, princess. Try it. You’ll never want go back to sucking aged blood once you do, trust me.”

“No,” you said, firmly. “Return it. Make it seem like an accident. If the humans find out you’ve been hunting their young, the pact will be annulled and the slayers will have free reign to invade our lands. And the child deserves to experience mortal life before becoming our prey.”

Naoya frowned. “I don’t remember you being this… opinionated. It’s unbecoming of you, princess. I think I much prefer that mouth of yours when it’s moaning my name.”

“I’m serious, Naoya. Put the child back where you found it.”

He moved then, like a fault in time, a warping of space, his preternatural speed placing him behind you before you could blink. With him in his vampire form and you in a human’s, your own reflexes were dulled, and the next thing you knew, he had his fist in your hair, his fangs grazing up your neck. 

Naoya licked the shell of your ear. “Don’t play coy, princess. If this is your way of asking me to fuck you before we feast, then it’s better to just beg.”

“I’m not playing around, you idiot.” You tried pushing him away, but his grip on you tightened, sharp fingernails digging into your skin. Good sex or not, you were starting to question why you liked him at all. “Stop. I mean it. Let go of me or else—“

But Naoya was laughing. “Or else? Or else what?”

A rip. He’d torn through the neckline of your dress. Your sleeve split down your shoulder. 

“Admit it,” he was saying. “You like it when I treat you like a disobedient slut. When I shut that mouth up with my—aargh! What the fuck?“

Naoya’s grip loosened, his head snapping around, then down.

There was something white on the ground. Something so mundane yet so out of place in the middle of a forest that it confounded you just as much.

Was that… garlic?

A rustle in the silence. 

A man was standing in the clearing, as if he’d materialised out of blank space like an apparition. The first thing you noticed was his white hair, as white as falling snow. Then his eyes…

“Ah… excuse me, miss,” he seemed to be speaking to you. In one of his gloved hands was another bulb of garlic. “I couldn’t help but notice you seem to be in a bit of a pickle. Might I offer you some assistance?”

The sudden presence of another—human? Yes, he was definitely human. You didn’t before, but you caught his scent now. Smelled the blood flowing in his veins, rich and heady and oh so sweet…

But how could a human have evaded your senses? Even Naoya, in true form, hadn’t noticed the man until he’d shown himself. It baffled you, and apparently Naoya as well, because he was as speechless as you.

You asked the only question that came to mind. “Who are you?”

The man stepped forward, moonlight casting silver lines across his face, pale and young and pretty; illuminating his tall, lithe figure, clad in the simple leathers of a village hunter. 

He cleared his throat. “Well, you see, I’m a vampire slayer. And that there, as I’m sure you are already aware, is a vampire—“ he gestured at Naoya, somewhat carelessly. “I regret to tell you this, miss, but that thing isn’t going to kiss you if that’s what you’re expecting.”

“You’re a slayer?” 

He must have thought you were rendered stupid because he spoke slower this time. “Yes, ah… I’m sure you’ve heard of the occupation. I slay vampires for a living. As in return them to dust. Vanquish them. Kill them, to put it simply.”

“You pelted me with garlic, you fool,” Naoya growled, having recovered from the man’s unexpected intrusion. “Only an imbecile would do that.”

The man’s—slayer’s—eyes, a deep entrancing blue that glowed in the darkness like the heart of a flame, settled on Naoya. “Well, it caught your attention, didn’t it? So I’d say it worked.” His tone hardened then. “And shame on you. Preying on a child and giving such a lovely lady false hope. I don’t tolerate rakes who go around breaking hearts, much less vampires. And it seems you are both.”

But Naoya was laughing. “Oh, you are hilarious. What kind of slayer confronts a vampire without holy silver? It almost makes me want to spare you out of pity, which I won’t, just so you know.”

The slayer merely grinned. “I’m not asking you to, fiend. In fact, I was actually planning on hitting you in the head again.”

His answer only amused Naoya further because he finally released you, red eyes gleaming with newfound excitement, as if he’d found a new sport.

“Is that so?” Naoya bared his fangs, tongue licking the tip. “Because my suggestion is that you’d better run, slayer. Run fast, and run far. I’m feeling generous so I’ll count to ten, and when I catch you, your throat will no longer be attached to your head.”

To your surprise, the slayer laughed right back. “I wouldn’t bother counting if I were you. I might not use swords, but I’ll have you know I’m quite fast.” He crooked his fingers at Naoya. “Come on, try me.”

Everything in your mind snapped into place then. The man’s sudden appearance. That he called himself a slayer. The garlic. That he wasn’t intimidated by Naoya even without a holy weapon. Your father’s countless lectures swam in your head, solidifying into the only plausible conclusion you now could not deny. 

This man—he was no ordinary slayer. 

You spun to warn Naoya. To tell him to run. But it was too late. He’d already moved, and it was like he’d stretched through the clearing in a single step, no longer next to you but where the slayer stood— 

Or had been standing.

You could have sworn upon your entire undead existence that the slayer hadn’t so much as twitched a muscle. But what you saw with your own eyes was irrefutable. He was there one moment, and then he was simply… not. He’d disappeared like a ghost—no, that wasn’t right. He’d swerved, like a gust of wind, and before Naoya’s fangs could bite into nothing, the slayer was already behind him.

“Watch out!” You shouted. 

The slayer must have thought you were talking to him because he was smiling at you. “Not to worry, my lady. I promise you I have quite a lot of experience in handling vampires—“ Then he did it again, moving as the air moved, feinting another one of Naoya’s deadly slashes. “Not as much as other slayers, come to think of it. Perhaps a higher kill count, though I can’t be sure. Still, quality is better than quantity, that’s what Suguru always told me. Then again, he liked to think he was very profound…”

He continued like this, rambling on and on while he dodged every attack Naoya threw at him.  No matter what Naoya did, no matter how many times he tried, clawing and slashing and pouncing, he couldn’t touch the slayer. Not even a brush. And this only incensed him further. 

“You dare play tricks on me?” Naoya growled, furious, but you could tell he was growing tired. His movements were lagging. “No human can possibly move this quickly.”

Perhaps it was your imagination, but the slayer’s impossible blue eyes seemed to glow brighter. “My gratitudes for the compliment. For that, you get a present.”

It took less than a blink—not even—for the slayer’s fist to connect, fingers splayed as he smashed the garlic he’d been holding this whole time in Naoya’s face. Another hand was wrapped around Naoya’s neck in a chokehold, lifting him off his feet for half a second before slamming him onto the ground. 

Naoya was gasping now. The gasps turned into splutters as the slayer’s boot came down on his face, smooshing the garlic into mush.

“Take—her—princess…”

The slayer put a hand to his ear, but eased the pressure of his boot slightly. “I’m sorry, what was that? You know, it’s rude to speak with your mouth full.”

Naoya heaved, one hand struggling to claw at the slayers leather boot, to no avail, while the other feebly pointed a finger in your direction. “S-spare me—you can have her… she’s the princess...“

Your eyes widened, your body growing rigid. 

Oh, that bastard. He would sell you out to save himself. You suddenly regretted you’d ever entertained him as a suitor at all. 

“Princess?” The slayer lifted a brow, but his boot was twisting into Naoya’s face once more as those blue eyes glanced your way, sparking your veins, yet you never felt your blood turn so cold as it did now. 

“I…” Your mind screamed at you to run. To shift into your winged form and hurtle into the sky. But the compounding thought of your father’s words and the sight before you—Naoya flailing in the snow, the slayer’s unnatural speed, those blue eyes… your muscles were frozen in place, as if dreading the thought of moving. 

“My lady, you never mentioned you were royalty,” the slayer said, perhaps a little awestruck. “You should have said so. I would have addressed you with your proper title. I mean, I knew you weren’t from the villages, because I would have noticed if someone as beautiful as you—ah… my apologies, now I sound like a cad. But you are, ah, that is to say, beautiful. Very much so—“ He paused, glancing down briefly. “Excuse me, Your Highness. I’m just going to…”

He stomped on Naoya’s face again. And again. And again. And you watched in horror as a wet crack pierced through the clearing.

Naoya went still.

“Again, I apologise,” the slayer said, finally removing his now bloody boot off your former suitor. “You shouldn’t have to see that. But I should warn you not to go near it since it’s still alive. There are only two proven methods to completely vanquish a vampire—holy silver and sunlight. Don’t be afraid though, I might not have any silver on me but I have a way to make sure this one won’t regenerate before—“

“You’re—“ you found your voice at last. “You’re the Six Eyes.”

The slayer grinned, and it took everything in you to keep from turning on your heels and running as he approached you.

“At your service.” He bowed, then took your hand and kissed the back of it. “And it’s Satoru, Your Highness. Satoru Gojo.” He winked. “Now, let’s get you and that child home, shall we?”

He was prattling again.

“There, all done. I made this one extra deep, so I don’t think it will be able to crawl out any time soon. Well, I guess it could sprout wings, but I made sure to break all its bones just in case. Besides, I doubt it will wake up until sunrise, so it doesn’t matter since it will be fried to a crisp…”

You stared into the mouth of the pit, in which Naoya had been tossed, his body swallowed by darkness. A part of you almost felt bad for him, but then again, he did try to offer you up on a platter to save his own sorry ass. 

The Six Eyes—Satoru Gojo—dusted his gloved hands, cheerfully, as if he’d finished tending his garden and not condemning one of your kind to dust. “You’re very lucky this one’s quite dense, Your Highness. The only reason I managed to track you down was because it was dumb enough to assume its vampire form this close to the borders. And to think, I was about to take a nap and miss out on meeting the most beautiful person I’ve ever—”

“Are there more of these pits around the area?”

“Huh? Oh, yes. Took some time to dig them all,” he said, a little too proudly. “They’re quite effective, if I do say so myself. Helps to keep the vamps trapped since there’s only one of me, and I can’t be out patrolling all the time. I installed spikes at the bottom, too. Holds them in place until either me or the sun arrives, whichever comes first.”

You didn’t know if you were more horrified or impressed with his methods. They were odd, certainly unorthodox. Every slayer you’d encountered previously (and killed, but he didn’t need to know that) treated a silver sword like their third leg, brandishing and poking the weapon in your face, desperate to impale you with it.

But not the Six Eyes. Not Satoru Gojo. Apparently, he preferred throwing root vegetables and digging holes in the ground. 

So this was what the rumours meant about him being incompetent but effective. All this while, you’d assumed he was just some dunce with luck on his side. But you knew better now. There was nothing lucky about that incredible reflex—Naoya’s speed was unrivalled among vampires, but the way Satoru Gojo had so easily taken him down, as if he was swatting a fly… no mere mortal would ever be able to accomplish such a feat.

“I have a question, Six Eyes” you said, trying not to sound as though you were prying. But you had to know more about him. For your own survival, of course.

“Anything, Your Highness. All you have to do is ask.” He’d picked up the child and was gently cradling its mousy-looking body, and the sight of it—of something so fragile, so helpless, in his arms—you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if it was you instead. “You are under my protection from now on. Until I return you safely to your home, whatever you wish, whatever you desire, I am at your disposal.”

You would have found it charming, if it weren’t for the fact that you were the very creature he hunted. 

“Are you—“ There was no way around it except to put it plainly. “Are you human?”

He seemed genuinely taken aback by this. Perhaps slightly insulted—no, that was not it. You saw his brows furrow, his smile fall away. Almost as if he was…

“Have I given you cause to be afraid of me?” His concerned tone confirmed it. “Do you distrust my nature? Because I swear upon heaven and hell that my blood is mortal. I slay creatures of the night. I’d never hurt you, Your Highness. Please believe me. May lightning strike me dead if I—“

“Well, it’s just that what you did to Nao—that vampire—I’ve never seen a human move that fast.”

“Oh, you mean my excellent perception.” Like a turning of the page, he was back to smiling. “Why didn’t you just ask? It’s not a secret. Not really. I’ll tell you all about it if you want. Takes an hour to reach the nearest village, so we have plenty of time. I’ll drop the child off first and then escort you back to—ah, which kingdom did you say you’re from?”

You stiffened. “Kingdom?” You pointed in a random direction. “It’s that way.”

“Are you sure? It’s all mountains over on that side.”

“Ah… I’m not sure. I thought it was. I’m not very good at… maps.”

“The closest kingdom that way would be where Poenari Castle is. Come to think of it, I did once hear the princess there was renowned for her beauty, but I’ve never been—

“Yes, that’s the one,” you said, quickly. If he’d never seen the place before, then it would make it easier to fabricate a story until you found a way to escape him. 

And you would have to do it soon. In a few hours, to be precise. Before the sun rose and you were turned to dust.

But for the time being, your immediate problem was Satoru Gojo and his insistence on becoming your knight in shining armour. You were not unaware that you were now probably the only vampire to have survived an encounter with the Six Eyes. A disturbing thought, since you were currently stuck with him, and the only thing saving you was your very, very wise decision to stay in your human form. 

“Great! Then we’d better get moving,” he said, and began leading the way, leaving you with no choice but to follow him further away from the vampire territories. “It’s going to take us at least six days’ travel to Poenari Castle."

You halted.

Six days? You didn't have six days. You didn't even have six hours.

"We’ll stock up on supplies and hire a carriage in the village. Can’t have a princess travelling on foot the whole way—“

“I—I can’t go to the village.”

He stopped, and gave you a confused look. “Why not? Are you tired? Are you hurt? Did that vampire bite you somewhere I didn’t see?”

“It’s just—well, the thing is—“ You racked your brain for any plausible excuse, pulling up whatever you could recall about New Transylvania’s human settlements, whatever your father had told you about them. But all you could remember was that it had its own castle, not so different from your own…

A castle. With a king and a queen. And more importantly, there was a prince…

An idea started to form. 

“Well, you see, I can’t go to the village because I don’t want the prince finding out my whereabouts,” you said before you could regret it. “I’m betrothed to him. I—I ran away. I got lost. A vampire found me. Then you came along.”

You felt a strange hammering in your chest when he didn’t reply immediately. When all he did was just look at you with those bewitching blue eyes, and it was as if he had put you under a spell. Was this what humans felt like when vampires compelled them? Because you couldn’t look away either.

Anger. Hatred. Fear. Regret. Humans were so simple to read, even when they thought they were hiding it. But with the Six Eyes, you only had more questions. Had you convinced him? Did he believe you? Or could he tell you were lying? It only drew you in deeper.

But then he was nodding. “Well, that explains everything,” he said at last. “I was actually wondering what a princess from a far away kingdom was doing in the middle of a forest at night in New Transylvania, but I thought it impolite to ask.” He turned sharply in another direction. “Change of plans. No village. We’re heading this way now.”

You hesitated. “Where are you taking me?”

Satoru Gojo’s smile widened. “To my home, of course. I’m guessing you need a place to hide, am I right? And contrary to what everyone believes, I don’t actually live in the trees.”

You should have just gone to the village. 

Now you were stuck in the dining room of a decaying manor, alone with a vampire slayer, trying not to grimace as a bowl of what looked harrowingly similar to sludge was placed on the long table. Thick and brown and steaming. Not so different from the stuff Uraume fed to the humans in your castle’s pens.

And the smell—it was odious. It made you want to gag. But the last thing you wanted to do was insult the Six Eyes. 

“Is something wrong with the stew, Your Highness?”

Your face must have shown it because he’d stopped stirring his own bowl. 

“No, not at all.” You smiled, tightly. “It’s just that… I’m not very hungry right now.”

Unfortunately, your stomach chose that moment to betray you, a growl echoing throughout the silence of the dining room. 

The corners of his eyes crinkled upwards. He pressed his lips together, as if trying to keep a straight face, and perhaps, for the first time, your cheeks warmed.

“I know it’s not on par with the kind of fare you’re used to," he said. "But I promise you it’s not as bad as it looks. You must have been out in the cold for hours. A little nourishment will make you feel better. At least take a few bites before you retire for the night.”

Bite. What you’d really like to bite was him. You hadn’t fed the whole night, and it didn’t help that his scent was very, very appealing. Such as humans had different tastes in the food they ate, vampires, too, had their own preferences. Your father favoured bitter blood, with a healthy dose of misery and suffering. Naoya—before you knew he preyed on children—always took his blood young, barely cross the coming of age. And as for you—

There was no blood that smelled as exquisite as what was flowing in Satoru Gojo’s veins.

You tried not to think about how delicious his neck looked, and forced yourself to pick up your spoon. You skimmed the surface of the stew, avoiding the dubious chunks bobbing about, brought it to your mouth, and took a very, very tiny sip.

It was horrendous. You were better off eating rat shit.

With every five scoops he took, you made yourself take one, swallowing down each mouthful with so much force that it must have looked like torture, because he was grinning. 

You frowned. “Do you find me funny, Six Eyes?”

He chuckled, and leaned slightly forward. “More entertaining than funny, I assure you, Your Highness. And please, it’s Satoru. Only dead things call me Six Eyes.”

You didn’t miss the irony of it. “Right… Satoru—so, do you live here alone?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “There’s my little witch boy, Megumi. But he comes and goes whenever he pleases. Unless I need him for a job, he mostly boils grass and sells them as love potions in the villages.”

You counted your lucky stars. Apart from this Megumi fellow, the only occupants here were Satoru and the child he’d left sleeping in one of the rooms. That should make it easy for you to escape this creepy estate—and creepy it was, even for an immortal predator such as yourself. Unlike the candle-lit halls of your own castle, this place was the epitome of doom and gloom. Barren. Mottled. Inside, the cold stone walls were thick with shadows, the dusty furniture like forgotten skeletons. The grounds surrounding the manor house were not much better, resembling a graveyard for dead leaves and brambles, surrounded by towering iron fences, affixed with spikes at the top.

Thank Lucifer you had wings. You’d wait until he retired for the night, and then make your escape.

You steeled yourself, and finished the foul stew. You had a couple of hours left until sunrise. If you hurried, you’d be able to reach your castle before you were reduced to corpse dust. 

“Thank you for the meal,” you said, standing. “If it’s alright, I’d like to rest now. Tonight’s… adventures have left me positively exhausted.”

“Of course, of course.” He rushed to his feet, and began leading the way out the dining room and up a creaking grand staircase to a hall full of doors. He stopped at one of them, and opened it, standing aside for you to enter. “The best room for the best—ah… never mind. After you, Your Highness.”

As you squeezed past him, this close, all your thoughts narrowed on how good he smelled, and a particularly delicious spot just below his ear. 

Satoru’s voice lowered, his previously circumspect manner switching like the sudden turning of tides to something that sprung heated coils below your stomach. “You’re staring, Your Highness,” he said, those blue eyes fixed on you. “Do I have something on my neck?”

You regretted flinching. “What? N-no. Nothing. I wasn’t…” your voice trailed off. You cleared your throat, and quickly put as much distance between yourself and him as possible. “Well, good night. And you don’t have to call me Your Highness.”

“Oh?” Satoru leaned his broad frame against the door like a very tempting feast. Your empty stomach fluttered. “Then what should I call you?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” It didn’t really matter. It wasn’t as if you’d be around to hear it. “I’ll, ah, see you in the morning.”

He gave you a smile you couldn’t decipher. “I’ll be waiting, princess.”

When he finally left, you loosened the breath you’d been holding all this while. He might still be lurking around so you couldn’t leave just yet. 

Left with time to kill, you began pacing around the surprisingly lavish room. It had been cleaned out, almost like Satoru had expected to have guests. Perhaps this was where he usually slept, and was courteous enough to relinquish it to you for the night. But he was also courteous enough to kill Naoya, so you should stop thinking about him. 

You didn’t know how long you waited, but you deemed it long enough that he was most likely sleeping by now. The bedroom’s window was too small for you to squeeze through, which left you with no choice but to slowly—ever so slowly—turn the knob and inch the door slightly ajar.

The yawning silence of the hallway greeted you as you peeked out. Darkness had never bothered you—your vision was built for it. You slipped out of the room, wincing as the door creaked shut behind you. 

Your feet made no sound as you hurried past the stained glass arches and down the grand staircase, taking two steps at a time. Thankfully, some of your vampiric abilities were still ingrained in human form—night vision, superior stealth—and you reached the carved double doors of the manor’s entrance without any trouble. 

Your hands reached for the dull brass handles when a loud yawn broke through the silence.

You spun, your chest seizing, and found the child Naoya had almost beaten to death standing by a small archway, looking very much alive.

The child yawned again. “About time. I was getting sick of standing around.”

You frowned. “I’m going for a stroll. Go back to sleep, child.”

“A stroll?” A familiar voice spoke then. A voice that froze your entire body stiff. “In the middle of the night? How odd you are, princess.”

Out of the shadows in the archway, like a spectre that hadn’t been there before, stepped Satoru Gojo.

He smiled. “Would you like some company? I’m wide awake, as you can see, and Megumi here doesn’t mind. We’ll bring him along just in case.”

Megumi? Your eyes darted to the child, who grumbled inaudibly. He knew the child? And Megumi was a… he?

Satoru extended an arm towards you. “So, what do you say, princess? It will be safer with the both of us. Who knows what manner of creature might be lurking in the bushes.” His teeth flashed in the most wicked way. “Creatures like you, for example.”

A heaviness seeped into your muscles, calcifying your bones. You couldn’t feel your legs. Neither could you tear your eyes away from his penetrating blue gaze. 

“You know…” your voice was barely audible. If there was ever a good time for your body to move, it was now. But you were trapped. Paralysed. “You’ve known the whole time.”

“I can never understand why you vampires like to think I’m an idiot. Of course I know.” He lifted a finger. “One, my eyes can see through anything. Excellent perception, remember? And no human alive can be as beauti—“ He stopped, as if he’d almost given something away. “Forget number two. You get my point.”

“If you’re going to explain your whole plan, then hurry up,” said Megumi. “I want to go back to sleep.”

Plan? They had a plan?

“You’re ruining the suspense, darling Megumi. I was going to let her—it—ponder for awhile longer before telling her—it—that we’ve been tracking its movements for quite some time now. Weeks, actually. That everything was fabricated and we used you as bait, and it was no coincidence that you were almost eaten by her former lover, which, of course, I’d never let happen to you, my darling Megumi.”

Megumi scoffed. “Not like she’s going to stay to hear the whole story.” He pointed at you. “See, she’s so bored she’s already leaving.”

You didn’t bother answering and threw open the double doors. There was no besting the Six Eyes in a fight, so the only other option was to run. You had to shift into your wings and get as high up as possible before he could catch you. If there was one thing you were sure of, it was that he couldn’t fly. 

Dark open skies stretched above you, and without hesitation, you called forth your wings. 

Nothing happened. 

You were still in human form. 

A lazy tapping of boots followed behind you. 

“Ah… right.” Satoru shrugged, too casually. “I forgot to mention that we might have put something in your stew. A spell, to be exact. Well, Megumi did—not me. But I told him to. Did I mention he’s a witch? So I wouldn’t bother with trying to flap those wings.”

Your lungs hollowed out, and for the first time, you understood what fear truly meant, and it was consuming.

But you were your father’s daughter. The Crown Princess of the Night. If this was to be your end, you would face it with dignity. You refused to die a grovelling fool.

“Fine. You win,” you spat at him, but stood your ground, holding your head high. “If you’re going to kill me, then just do it.”

Satoru raised a brow. “What? Oh no, no, no. You’ve mistaken me. You’re my esteemed guest. I’m not going to kill you… yet. That would certainly do me no favours with your father. And I do so want to meet him again.”

It dawned on you then—the plan he orchestrated, your capture—the real target had never been you. 

The Six Eyes was after the King of Vampires. 

Your voice turned venomous. There was no point in hiding your true nature. Not anymore. “You really are a fool if you believe my father will be so easily defeated.”

Satoru answered with his own grin. “Oh, I don’t believe. I know. Because I now have, in my possession, the only thing Sukuna treasures most in his entire undead existence. And I have no doubt he’ll want it back… most desperately.” He gave you a mocking bow. “A warm welcome, Your Most Immortal Highness. You’re stuck here with us whether you like it or not, so I urge you to make yourself at home.”

You were hungry. 

There was nothing but rodents. Small mice squeaking in the dim corners of the halls, and big, fat rats scurrying about in the barren larder, picking on scraps of rotten vegetables. 

But you would not stoop so low… not until you had to. Three nights had passed since your last feed, and you knew that the Six Eyes knew vampires could technically survive without blood, though they’d be immensely weakened, reduced to a husk—a withered shell of themselves, like a dried prune. But they wouldn’t die. Not truly. 

He was starving you on purpose. The bastard. And perhaps it was even more wicked that he gave you free reign to wander about the manor estate as you pleased, yet denied you of the very sustenance you craved. 

And worst of all? The most delicious blood you’d ever smelled was flowing in the veins of the very man who held you hostage. It seemed you were not only a captive, but captivated with the thought of biting him.

Your skin was starting to itch. The first sign of withdrawal. You’d never experienced it before—being a princess and all that—but it seemed like you were experiencing a lot of firsts as of late. None of them particularly enjoyable. 

You stomped through the garden, as if the snow you crushed underneath your slippers were to be blamed for your current predicament. Dirt clung to the hem of your dress, torn fabric hanging off and exposing your shoulder to the chilly, midnight air. But you’d rather your own clothes than the unsightly peasant’s sack one of them—the Six Eyes or the child—had left outside your bedroom door for you to change into. 

Not wanting to sequester yourself in the manor and breathe the same air as Satoru Gojo—and his maddening scent—you’d come out to the gardens the moment the sun disappeared, only returning to lock yourself in your room again right before dawn. At first, you’d wondered why you weren’t followed. Surely they’d anticipate you would risk the spikes and try to climb over the fence. Your suspicions were soon confirmed when you realised that the fences surrounding the estate had simply… vanished.

And in replacement was an infinite sea of snow, stretching on and on and around the perimeter of the estate. White and never-ending. That little witch boy must have put some kind of enchantment on this place. Whenever you tried to cross what you remembered was the threshold between the property and the outside world, it was like walking in loops, because you’d just pop back out a few steps behind. 

You wandered through the statue garden, where a collection of stern, moss-covered figures stared down at you, as if they were passing judgement on you for disobeying your father, and now you were paying the price for that stupidity.  

“Searching for stray cats to feed on, princess?”

Satoru Gojo stepped out from behind a faceless statue, as if he’d materialised out of thin air. 

You scowled at him. “What do you want?”

He chuckled. “Not so decorous anymore, are you, princess? I was just dropping by to check on how my lovely guest is faring—“

“I’ll fare better when you let me leave this forsaken place.”

“Come now, it’s not that bad. Haven’t I provided you with every comfort? You have a nice room, you can go about the estate as you please, do whatever you wish. Why, I don’t think I’ve treated any vampire this graciously before—well, not that it ever gets to that point since they would already be dead. Like that lover of yours.”

“Stop calling him that. He’s not my lover,” you snapped. “And if you’re here to merely goad me on, then do kindly fuck off. I don’t wish to spend the rest of my walk listening to your inane drivelling.”

“Still pissy, I see, which means you’re doing more than fine.” He shrugged. “Shame. I was going to offer you some blood, but since you’re so energised, I guess you won’t be needing it.”

“If you’re slicing up rats to offer to me, then you can go feed it up your—“

“Rats? Who said anything about rats? You think I don’t know creatures like you are only sustained with one type of blood?”

“You think I’d believe you would draw blood from a human to feed me?”

“Well, I wouldn’t need to draw blood from anyone. I’d just let you take a bite.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being serious. “And who is this person? A condemned prisoner you bought off the gallows? I don’t drink tainted blood.”

“Heavens, no. I would never be so crude, princess. Not even when I slay you…eventually.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Then what kind of human is it?”

“Only the best kind.” His grin widened. “Me, of course.”

Your throat bobbed, and worse, he noticed. He propped himself against the edge of the statue’s pedestal, and tilted his head aside. 

“This is what you’ve been staring at, am I right?” He traced a finger down the side of his neck, taunting. Unravelling the firm grip you had on your self control from the inside out in a matter of seconds. 

You dug your toes into the sharp points of your slippers, refusing to lose any more composure. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“Why would I? There’s no reason to. I need you looking alive and well for when your father comes to collect you. That is, after he agrees to my demands, which will take some time. It seems being alive for centuries can turn one dreadfully stubborn. Though, I do have something I’d like you to do for me first…”

 He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small vial filled with shimmering blue liquid.

“It’s the same stuff we put into your stew,” he said, holding up the vial for you to better see. “The previous spell should be wearing off, and we can’t have you suddenly sprouting wings. I’m going to need you to drink it before you drink me. ”

A bargain. You should have known his offer came with conditions. And could it even be called manipulation if he wasn’t trying to hide it?

Whether you accepted or not, the outcome would be the same. You’d remain stuck here. It was either starve and turn into a prune, or take the potion and feed on him. Whichever you chose, you still wouldn’t have your wings.

Why make it harder, was what you convinced yourself as you trudged over and snatched the vial, uncorked it, and poured it down your throat, all the while glaring at him. 

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He said, catching the empty vial you flung back at him, tossing it aside. He patted his lap. “Come here, princess. Time for your reward.”

The annoying tug in your chest piqued again, progressing to a thunderous pounding as you approached, and lowered yourself onto him.

This close—touching—the heady scent of him engulfed you. Irresistible. Intoxicating. 

But you weren’t about to let him reduce you to a mewling buffoon. He’d had the upper hand for long enough. You were born an apex predator. You held the uncontested throne at the peak of the foodchain.

And you would show him exactly how you treated your prey. 

You smiled, and placed your hands on him, sliding them down the solid plain of his chest. Your voice lowered to a soft melody. “There’s something I’ve been wondering about, and I think you can help me out with it, Satoru…”

You sensed his pulse quicken, but those blue eyes remained fixed on you in calm amusement. “Oh? Now I’m curious. As I’ve said before, all you have to do is ask. Though it doesn’t mean you’ll get the answer you’re hoping for.”

Your hand moved up to his undeniably stunning face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “I couldn’t help but notice that you find me beautiful. Is it true? Do I appeal to you?”

A corner of his lips curved upwards. “Are you trying to compel me, princess? If so, you need not bother. I’ll simply tell you that while I may find you very, very attractive, I will never forget what you are. What you and your kind do to humans. What your true nature is—” the glimmer in his eyes darkened. “Cold. Heartless. A stain on this world. A creature that should be sent back to the deepest pits of the underworld.”

You felt something sharp dig into the side of your waist, and looked down.

Silver glinted back at you, pale moonlight reflecting off the polished blade.

“A knife?” You laughed. “Are you flirting with me? How romantic.”

He wound an arm around you, locking you in place against the blade’s tip.

“Thrilling, no?” He smirked. “Wouldn’t want you sucking me dry the first time when we have so many more nights to spend like this.”

Oh, he was good. Too good. You’d never met a human who resisted your compulsion this effectively, and at the same time, compelled you right back. 

But two could play his game. 

Your hand trailed to the back of his neck, fingers weaving into his soft, snowy hair. “Clearly, Satoru, you have never been bitten before. Because you wouldn’t be saying that to me if you had. Because instead, you’d be begging me to drain you to a corpse.” 

You fisted his hair, and yanked his head aside. Your lips grazed up the length of his delectable neck.

“Are you ready, Six Eyes?” you whispered. “If there’s one thing I can promise you, it’s that this will be your awakening, and your biggest regret.”

That delicious pulse of his raced under his skin. But he merely scoffed, “Do your best, princess.”

You parted your lips, and what was previously blunt canine teeth started to elongate, sharpening into two pin-prick points. 

And finally, your fangs sunk into his flesh. 

The taste of him—it decimated the world around you. There was no before. There was no after. Only the overwhelming high that floated inside and through you. An inexplicable, devastating pleasure that gushed down your throat and drummed through every fibre of your being. 

If such a thing as heaven existed, then it was him. 

A soft groan. His grip on your waist tightened. “This is—fuck….”

You gulped down more of him, helpless to the ultimate bliss that consumed you. The better he felt, the more you wanted. More than this. More than blood. You wanted everything.

All of him.

Still gripping his hair, you slid your free hand back down his chest, and then further down, and down some more, until you felt him—the thick, straining length of him, hard against your palm. 

Another groan escaped him, louder this time, as you rubbed him through the fabric of his breeches. And the sound he made…it unravelled you, just as much as you knew you were unravelling him. You wanted to hear him again. You could hear him forever.

“Don’t...” His voice had deepened to a slow lull as you increased both the pressure of your hand and your mouth on his neck. “Oh god—yes…”

A muffled crunch. Something heavy had fallen on the snow, and you knew it was his knife. Then his hands were on you, ripping your dress in half down the neckline. 

Icy winds kissed your cold skin, and then his hand was on your breast, the other underneath your skirt, dragging up and up and dipping between the apex of your thighs. 

You moaned, a stream of blood leaking down the side of your mouth, as his warm fingers met what you couldn’t hide, sliding up the centre of your slick folds. 

Never—never before had anyone made you lose yourself like this. Not Naoya. Not all your past suitors. And for a human to—how was he even moving? He was supposed to be pliant. Limp. A puddle of mush under your thrall. 

Instead, your moans grew louder as his fingers worked you in broad strokes. Your feeding grew careless, more blood spilling out and smearing around your mouth. 

You would eat him alive. You would—

You released the fastening on his breeches, tugging the strings loose.

His breath hitched. “What are you—“

You unlatched, your fangs receding back into teeth as you found his gaze. And in his eyes, you saw a war. A collision of heaven and hell. Temptation and sin. The unmistakable glaze of lust, and perhaps, something more. 

“Hush, Satoru,” you said, placing a finger on his lips. Licking his blood off your own. “I’m not done yet.”

You pulled away, and bent on your knees before him. You yanked his breeches down further, freeing his cock—thick and flushed and hard enough to ache. It was a beast.

And damn propriety, you needed all of it. Now.

You pressed your lips to his tip, and licked him. Licked at the beads of moisture seeping out his slit, and then took him in your mouth, and sucked.

“God, I—you’re… fuck it.” He let out a low, guttural groan. His fingers dived into your hair. He seemed to have collected enough of himself, because his voice steadied. “You want me this bad, princess? You can have me.”

You felt the rough tug of his fists in your hair, gripping you so tight your couldn’t move on your own accord. Then he was shoving the full length of him down your throat. 

You gagged, constricting around his thickness that filled you entirely. Your hands clutched onto his hips for purchase, eyes shuttering as he manoeuvred your head to pump you full of him, right up to the hilt. 

“I will vanquish you,” he said. “One day. This, I swear. But today, I will do it with my cock.”

In one swift motion, he pulled out. The next thing you knew, you were bent facing the statue, hands on the cracked pedestal as he lifted your skirt, and plunged two fingers into you. 

It was—your mind blanked.

You cried out as he drove into you, so deep, so unforgiving, his fingers curling just right, as if he knew the exact way to break you apart. 

“So wet, princess,” he murmured, breath ghosting your ear. “And all I did was bleed for you.”

You didn’t get the chance to retort. His fingers thrust again, harder, obscene sounds spilling from the tight clutch of your body. Every pump made your knees buckle, every curl of his knuckles tore another strangled moan from your throat.

His other hand slid up your spine, fingers trailing your exposed skin until they closed around the back of your neck, making you arch for him like you existed for nothing else.

He pressed his lips to the shell of your ear. “You’re going to come on my fingers,” he said, voice quiet as the knife he hadn’t bothered retrieving. “And then I’m going to fuck you. Right here. In front of all my stone-faced ancestors. Let them watch your fall from grace.”

You should snarl. You should spit in his face.

Instead, you rocked back on his fingers like a starving creature chasing a high.

Because that was what he was—your undoing. The deadly storm you couldn’t help but be drawn into. 

“Look at you,” he whispered, and there was a softness in his tone that didn’t match with the words he spoke. “Princess of the Night, losing herself on a human’s hand. If there’s ever a sight I shall remember, it is this…”

He shoved his fingers deeper. You gasped as he curved inside you, so perfectly, dragging a sound from your throat you didn’t recognise, and you shattered, a brutal climax consuming you so fully you couldn’t think past the blinding stars in your vision. 

He withdrew his fingers, making you shudder at the sudden emptiness—only for him to grab your hips, drag you back against him, and grind the hard length of his cock between your thighs, sliding along your soaked heat.

You nearly collapsed.

“Say it,” he murmured, lips dragging down your throat from behind. “Say you want me inside you.”

You heard it clearer this time. He might not be fully compelled but the aphrodisiac from your bite was still flowing inside him. But beneath the manic frenzy, hidden behind the veil of his rough words and rough hands, you didn’t miss it… his desire. His desperation. For you. 

So you spoke what he couldn’t bring himself to say, your voice spilling into the night like a confession.

Not a plea. A recognition. 

“I want you, Satoru… I can’t help it.”

A hitch in his breath. A tremor in his grip. A ripple of unseen power, stirring like a beast awakened.

“You—” his voice frayed. “You’re—fuck.”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence as he twisted you around to lift you up, legs straddling him, and backed you up against the statue, pinning you tight against unyielding stone. 

Yours mouths crashed together, a clash of tongue and teeth, the leash barely restraining the both of you snapping at last. Your hands were on him. His hands were on you. A melding of fire and ice, consuming one another with no end. 

And with his tongue filling your mouth, he dropped you down on his cock. 

You moaned into him, feeling him go deeper, and deeper still. Until you felt him everywhere. In your bones, in your breath. In the frantic, traitorous flutter you barely recognised as a pulse. 

You shouldn’t feel like this. You shouldn’t feel at all. Not for a human. Not for a slayer. Not for him. What you thought was hunger for his blood was—

He thrusted into you again, and you lost your train of thought. All that you were narrowed on the way his cock was stretching you out, so exquisitely, that you could only clench harder around him. As though your body had decided on its own that he belonged there.

“Why do you—” Satoru bit out, only to choke on a groan as your body clamped around him again like a vice. “Why the hell does this—why must you feel so fucking good—”

Eyes heavy-lidded, you peered up to find his gaze fixed on you. An incandescent blue that overwhelmed you, his pupil blown wide, hair tousled from your grip, dark red smears painted all over his neck.

And you realised what he already had. That he was ruined for you just as much as you were for him.

“You shouldn’t fit me like this.” His lips brushed against yours, so tender it jarred you. “You shouldn’t fit like you were made for me…”

A crackle in the air. A surge of—something bigger… ancient. Something inevitable—coiling between and around your bodies. Humming under your skin. Vibrating through your blood. Like a thread pulled taut. A door the both of you hadn’t meant to open.

Something binding.

Something was wrong. 

Your kind didn’t pull. Your kind didn’t bind. Your kind didn’t—

Then Satoru was laughing. An incredulous, bitter laugh. “Oh, this is cruel... fate just loves to fuck with me.”

Before you could form a reply, he was fucking into you again. Harder this time. Relentless. A man possessed. Your fingers dug into his back, clawing against his tunic. 

“S-Satoru—ahn!” You cried out his name. Over and over again as he impaled you, each deep, savage thrust obliterating your mind to dust. Ripping your soul from your body. 

Release barrelled through you as he pushed you over the edge. A bottomless freefall that wiped your mind clean of anything save the explosive rush encompassing you in its totality.  Then you felt him, warm and spilling into you with a final thrust. 

But you didn’t let go. Neither did he. Your mouths found each other again, moving in a rhythm of pure instinct, long and slow, deep and searching for the very thing you could not yet name. 

If you could, you would stay like this forever, with him buried inside you and the heat of his caresses against your tongue. Wrapped in his arms until your bodies became one. 

And for the first time, you were not cold. 

Then Satoru was pulling away.

Gently, he set you back down, and picked up his coat you just now noticed was lying in the snow. He threw it around your shoulders and pulled it closed, the heavy fabric settling over your bare chest where your dress hung in tatters.

He stepped back, and released a heavy breath. 

“Go home, princess,” he said. 

You didn’t think you heard him right. “You’re—you’re letting me leave?”

“There’s a vial in your right pocket.” He gestured at his coat around you. “It cancels out any spell’s effects. I was going to use it if you had succeeded in compelling me, but I guess you’ll need those wings if you want to make it back before sunrise. Megumi’s barrier enchantment answers to my will, so you should be able to cross the threshold now. Besides, I’d advice against walking—I dug up a lot of pits around the area.”

You stared at him. 

He was serious. The look on his face confirmed it, for it was a look you could only recognise as utter defeat. After everything—your capture, his plan to lure your father, his repeated threats to kill you—he would just…send you off?

“Why?” you asked.

But Satoru was already retreating. He laughed, as if he couldn’t believe it himself. “Now there’s a question that won’t do you any good if I answer.”

You watched him head back in the direction of his miserable, decaying manor. 

Your feet moved before you could think.

“Wait—“ you called out. Saw him hesitate. “What if—what if I stayed?”

His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn around. His reply came too quick. To easily. “My, my, and here I am thinking you’re smarter than this.” He waved his hand, flippantly. “Game’s over, princess. Happy flapping.”

This was it. This was your cue to leave. But instead, you were moving faster, as if there was an invisible string tied around the both of you, connecting you together, and it was pulling you towards him. 

You grabbed his arm, stopping him mid-stride. Satoru’s gaze darted to you, as if he hadn’t meant to but couldn’t help it. 

You reached for his face, your palm resting softly against his cheek.

“If you’re going to lie, Satoru,” you said. “At least look at me while you do it.”

A flicker in his infinite blue eyes, and for once he looked… lost. Like he’d stopped fighting. Not surrender, but acceptance. Like he’d uncovered a terrible truth—a force he knew he could not win.

It was snowing. White flakes drifted down from the sky like a shower of feathers, as quiet as Satoru’s voice.

“Princess...” he said. “I—you’re my—“

The sky boomed. 

Not thunder.

A voice. 

A deafening roar that rattled the stars and shook the lands. The furious roar of a great beast smiting his ire down from the heavens. 

A roar you could not mistake for any other.

“Satoru Gojo!” Sukuna’s menacing bellow echoed with the wind, and the night seemed to grow darker. “You thought I wouldn’t find you first?”

Your head snapped up to the sky, at what you could not see outside Megumi’s enchanted barrier. 

You should be relieved. Your father had come to rescue you. He would kill the evil slayer and take you back to safety. 

You held Satoru tighter. 

Satoru spared one more second—just one—his eyes completely fixed on you, and in that glance, you saw his whole world. Everything he would not show you.

Then his mask slipped back on.

“Huh, daddy’s early,” Satoru said. “Doesn’t sound too happy, either.”

The sky wavered, like the billowing of an iridescent sheet, and began melting as the enchantment over the manor estate broke down bit by bit, the endless snowy plains beyond the threshold dissolving away. You saw the the iron gates, the spiked fences, the forest—

And descending from the sky—a great winged shadow that blotted out the night itself.

The ground trembled as Sukuna, all eight arms and four eyes, landed a few paces from you and Satoru. You also saw the shift in his expression. The cold, immortal fury morphing into a viciousness you had never seen in him before, as he beheld the sight of you and Satoru, bodies pressed up against each other, your hands still on his face.

But your father did not shout or snarl. He spoke, quiet as looming death, and it was worse. 

“You took my daughter. You used her to threaten me. And now you dare defile her?” Both pairs of Sukuna’s crimson eyes narrowed on Satoru. “Have you been so desperate for my attention all these years that you would resort to such unscrupulous tricks?”

Satoru scoffed, and pulled away from you, striding forward. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you? So I’d say it worked out fine. I should actually applaud you for finding me this quickly, and for breaking through my barrier. Now if you have no more use for Megumi, do inform your big, fat blood-sucking bird flying above my property to return my witch to me.”

You father’s mouth sliced upwards. “I see your perception has not dulled with age, Six Eyes. Though it will make no difference after I’m done with you.”

Another figure swooped down from the sky, pale and slender, dropping next to Sukuna. 

“My king.” Uraume bowed, and then did the same to you. “Princess. I apologise for the wait.”

But you weren’t focused on any part of Uraume other than what they were holding. Bound with ropes, a gag in his mouth, was Megumi, dangling off the ground as Uraume held him up like hunted game. 

“Has the Six Eyes agreed to the terms yet?” Uraume asked, flatly. 

“I doubt he has a choice, unless he doesn’t mind me gutting his little witch and feeding its intestines to my hellhounds.”

“Father—“ you started, but cut yourself short before you said something damning. It was bad enough that you were wearing Satoru’s coat, and your father was a man who never missed a thing…and it’s implications. “I—he didn’t hurt me.”

All four of Sukuna’s eyes slid towards you, narrowing slightly, as if he saw right through your words. “We shall talk, daughter. But later. I have a bargain I wish to strike with the Six Eyes.”

Satoru’s laugh was humourless. “Bargain? I don’t recall inviting you over for tea and cakes. I called you here to kill you, King of the Night. To fight. One on one. Slayer and blood-sucker.”

Sukuna smirked. “But the battle has already begun, slayer. And you have already lost. Why do you think my daughter hasn’t tried to run to my side? Are you so obsessed with killing me that your Six Eyes can see nothing else?”

Satoru fists clenched. “You killed Suguru.”

“He burnt my wife on a pyre.”

You froze.

Your father had never spoken about your mother before. All this time, he’d led you to believe you were the product of an affair with a low-born vampire. That he’d abandoned her but took you in and raised you as his heir. You didn’t even know her name, if she was even alive and wandering about New Transylvania while you were growing up in a castle with an army of servants at your beck and call. That she’d died. 

“You’ve been a thorn in my side, and menace to my kind for long enough, Six Eyes. It’s time to end this,” Sukuna said, the tips of his claws growing longer and longer to sharpened points. “Listen well, Satoru Gojo, because I will not be so generous if I have to repeat myself again. You will surrender yourself. Willingly. In exchange, I will not kill your little witch. You will be coming with me to my castle, where you will await your execution in front of all my subjects. Uraume will stay here until I have sent word. You will be dead by then, but the boy will be freed.”

What? Your body went rigid. No… 

Megumi bit out a muffled protest and shook his head violently. 

Your legs moved towards your father. Past Satoru, who didn’t stop you. 

“There’s no need for this,” you said. “He was going to let me go when you arrived. Leave him here. We’ll go back home. He won’t come after us, I promise.”

Sukuna glanced down at you, his gaze softening momentarily. But he said, “I do not wish to perpetuate this blood feud any longer, and the only way this ends is with his death. You should have a clean slate when you ascend the throne.”

“I don’t want you to kill him—“

“Not here, daughter. Not now.”

“But I—he and I… I think he’s—“

“Fine,” you heard Satoru say behind you. He sighed. “Have it your way. But if I see Megumi in hell, I will personally come back as a very annoying ghost and haunt you for eternity, which is a long time for someone like you.”

You spun, a horrible pit forming in your stomach. “Don’t,” you said. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t—I can’t let you—“

But Satoru wouldn’t meet your eyes. Instead, he turned to Megumi, still gagged and bound, and said, “Remember to spell the roses. Don’t let them die.” Then he yawned, and stretched his arms over his head. “Alright, shall we get moving before I fall asleep? It’s been a long night.”

The entire castle was convinced you had gone mad. 

The princess… reading? Surely you were not the same vampire they knew. The only times you’d ever stepped foot in the library was during lessons. Even then, you’d always convinced your tutors to conduct them in the gazebo, or while you strolled around your gardens, half listening to whatever they were droning on about. You had not seen a point in suffocating yourself among stale air and dusty tomes when you could be outside with the moon and stars. 

That dastardly Six Eyes must have switched you with someone else, everyone thought. Their Crown Princess was gifted in many things—lounging, frolicking, taking long milk baths and ordering the servants around—but academics was not one of them. 

So it was no wonder you had everyone perplexed, and frankly, immensely concerned, when you arrived back at the castle and proceeded to lock yourself up in the library every single night without fail. It had reached a point where you’d ordered for all of your meals to be taken there, and for a cot to be set up so you wouldn’t have to make the long trip back to your quarters when your eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. 

Because, for once in your immortal existence, you had work to do. That, and you had to preoccupy yourself with something, anything, to keep you from agonising over the fact that Satoru was rotting away in the dungeons below. 

Your father had given explicit orders that no one was to visit the Six Eyes until the Red Feast, which was to be the night of his execution. Not even to sneer or spit in his face. And no matter what you said, or how you said it, he wouldn’t change his mind. 

But tonight would be different. You’d done your research. You’d combed through every text on humans, on slayers, on the history of vampires, from ancient scripts to tomes heavier than a tombstone to the most obscure spell books, until finally finding a thread to follow. 

Slowly, laboriously, you put the pieces together. Slowly, you’d understood.

And now you would confirm it. 

When you entered your father’s chambers, you saw that the thick drapes were pulled open. He was by the window, back towards you, already dressed in ceremonial attire. The pale crimson glow of the blood moon, hanging low in the sky outside, glinted off the rubies embedded into the crown he wore. 

“We should have that talk,” you said, without greeting. He would have already guessed why you were here.

“It will have to wait.” He didn’t turn around. “The feast has begun. We have guests to entertain. You are to announce your chosen suitor tonight. The Zenin boy is dead, so I don’t expect it will be him. But it still doesn’t relieve you of the duty you must fulfil.”

“You are executing my bonded mate tonight, father. I think I deserve answers before you slice him in half.”

Sukuna stiffened slightly. “Are you certain you want to toss that term around so carelessly? Is this why you’ve taken a recent interest in books? I’d advice you not to trust everything you read.”

“Careless I may have been, but it is the truth. I cannot deny it. The same as I cannot deny an impending avalanche. He is my mate. You know this as well as I. Perhaps better.”

“And what makes you think I know anything about it?”

“Well, you should since you had one before. You had my mother. She was your mate, wasn’t she? Before you lost her. She may still be. I imagine a force this strong would be able to persist beyond death. It would explain why you’re always so sullen.”

“If you are hoping I will be persuaded into rescinding the execution, then I will have to disappoint you.”

“I am not hoping for anything. I swear to you I will do my duty and pick a suitor tonight. But first, I want answers.”

For a long while, Sukuna didn’t speak. Then he faced you, and nodded once. Barely. “Ask your questions,” he said. “And I will answer what befits answering.”

“Mother was human.”

“That is not a question.”

“And so am I. Not fully, but enough to… feel.”

“Still not a question.”

You approached him, peering up at his towering figure. “Those are facts, father. What I want to know is why—why would you deny me what completes my soul when you know what it’s like to have lost yours?”

You might have imagined it, but you thought you saw his expression soften. There and gone in less than a blink. 

“Because it is not what we are designed for,” he said. “You are a vampire, daughter. You have been raised as one, and will continue to be one for eons. Until the world had crumbled to ashes and dust, and still you will prevail. Humans are fleeting. They only serve us one purpose. You’d do well to understand this.”

“But Satoru is not fully human too, is he?”

The corners of Sukuna’s eyes tightened. “I do not know what he is—perhaps a sorcerer, but those have been extinct a long, long time ago. What I know is that he is mortal enough. His life is finite. To be rid of him now is a mercy, before the attachment grows. In this, you should trust me.”

“It is already irrefutable, father.” You took one of his hands in yours. The one he always favoured using to stroke your hair when you were little. “Was my mother burnt for being attached to you? Because the humans—this Suguru—found out she was involved not only with a vampire, but with their king?”

You felt his hand tense. Then his fingers wrapped around yours, gently. 

“Listen well, daughter, because I’m only going to say this once—“ Sukuna sighed, and it was the loosening of a breath you suspected he’d held in for a lifetime. “The last time I saw your mother was also the last time she saw you. We’d agreed that we would keep you away from anything to do with humans other than feeding on them. To have a relationship with your prey will only complicate things for you. But your mother could never stay away for long, so every few months, I’d visit her, and take her here. She would disguise herself as a servant and watch you from afar for a few hours. Then I would bring her back to the village before dawn. But on the last night—before she was condemned to die—a slayer saw her. Saw me with her. I wanted to go after the slayer, but she assured me nothing would come of it. She believed no harm would befall her because she was human. I shouldn’t have listened. That is the story. Satisfied?”

He let go of your hand and began striding out the room. “Come. We want to be fashionably late, but not rudely so.”

You followed after him. “So I’m not wrong. You can feel, too.”

A quiet scoff.

“Stare at something too long, daughter, and you will find it stares back.”

Satoru was brought out in chains. 

You hadn’t spoken to anyone since gracing the court with your presence, and had remained brooding in the throne beside your father’s on the elevated dias. Besides the occasional nod, all you did was stare at the roses in the garden—the customary location for the Red Feast—and the moon crowning the night sky, painted the same shade as the flowers you adored. 

Your mercurial demeanour did not go unnoticed, though no one dared comment on it. Especially in front of Sukuna, lest they wanted to end up staked in front of the castle gates. They must have assumed you were not too thrilled about having to pick another suitor since Naoya was no more. It was no secret that he’d been the closest candidate to becoming the prince consort. 

But the moment the music stopped, you sat up straighter. 

Two guards appeared, dragging Satoru through the hush of the parting crowd towards the dias. Heavy manacles bound his wrists and ankles. He was still in the same clothes from that night, now soiled and marred with dungeon filth, his snowy hair limp and matted against his head. 

It seemed your father had succeeded in making the infamous Six Eyes look as pathetic as possible on his last night alive, at least in appearance. But where he’d lost was in Satoru’s expression, for there was nothing pathetic about the resolve in his blue eyes.

Eyes that immediately, implicitly, found yours as he was made to kneel at the foot of the dias. 

A corner of his lips curved upwards.

“Good evening,” he said, gaze fixed entirely on you. “Nice place you’ve got here—beautiful.”

It took everything in you not to shoot up from your seat and run to him. You were clutching the armrests of the throne so hard that the wood started cracking. 

And the court must have seen it, because they took your reaction as their cue to hiss and jeer.

“He is distressing the princess!” someone shouted.

“Scum!”

“Rot in hell!”

“Kill him!”

“Enough,” Sukuna said. 

The silence that followed was instantaneous. 

Sukuna stood, and approached the edge of the dias in a single stride to peer down at Satoru. Your father had never been one to drag a moment with long speeches, preferring to cut straight to the crux of the matter. In this, he was no different.

“I won’t ask if you have any last words, because they are not important,” he said, cold and imperious. “What matters is that with your death, we shall finally have some semblance of peace.”

Sukuna held out his hand. Another guard appeared, hurrying up the dias with a large case, and from it, your father pulled out a simple longsword.

A sword with a blade of silver.

Gasps escaped the gathered court, more than a few retreating back a few steps. 

Sukuna ignored them, and continued. “You will die tonight, Six Eyes, by the very weapon slayers like you use to kill our kind.” He stepped down the dias. “Guards, prepare him.”

You watched as Satoru was forced to bend over on his knees. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t hear anything past the roaring storm in your head, the pounding in your chest. You tore your gaze from Satoru to the blade your father was raising high in the air, positioned for a clean cut.

“Let’s get it over with,” Sukuna said.

He brought the blade down. 

“Wait!”

The blade halted, inches from Satoru’s neck.

You were standing. 

Your father was looking at you, and so was every member of the court. 

Satoru was looking at you.

You willed your voice to steady, and spoke. “I have decided on who is to be my betrothed, father. I wish to announce it.”

Sukuna frowned. “It can wait until after the execution.”

“No. It cannot.”

Your body was moving down the dias, then in front of the silver sword and your father.

“It cannot wait,” you said, “because I choose to be betrothed to Satoru Gojo.”

The escalation happened gradually. For awhile, the only sound was the wind as confusion washed through the entire court. They weren’t sure if they heard you right, only for realisation to hit like a hailstorm when you bent down and took Satoru’s face in your hands.

Ever so gently, you stroked his cheek.

“You’re right,” you whispered. “You and me—we were planned all along.”

Satoru stared at you, and in his eyes, you saw his ruination. 

His lips parted. “Princess, I—“

“Traitor!” 

Someone had stepped out of the crowd. Naobito Zenin. Head of the Zenin clan of vampires, and Naoyo’s father. 

“The princess is a traitor,” he seethed, jabbing a finger at you. “Now it makes sense. You think I’d accept that my son, a Zenin, would be killed so easily? She must have conspired with the Six Eyes to murder him. How else can a slayer known to be so incompetent kill so many of us? The princess was never captured. She was helping him. This whole time, she was fraternising with the enemy!”

His accusation seemed to embolden the crowd. Cries of protests resounded through the garden, and now that head of the second most powerful vampire family had denounced you in front of the king, the others were suddenly much braver. 

“Is this how you raised your daughter, King of the Night?” Naobito growled. “To turn against her own kind? To betray us for becoming a slayer’s whor—”

But Sukuna’s own growl shook the very cliff holding his castle. 

“You dare slander my daughter, Zenin?” Your father was no longer calm. “Open that despicable mouth of yours again and I will fill your throat with silver.”

Naobito dared laugh. “You will do nothing of the sort. She may be your daughter, but she’s just signed her own existence to dust. Or is our king not familiar with the law he created himself? Vampires are forbidden from fornicating with humans, on pain of death. She may be a princess, but she is not exempted from it.”

“He is my mate,” you hissed.

That shut Naobito up. But for only a second. Then his face morphed into something hideous. “You are smarter than I took you for—using our most sacred law to hide behind. There hasn’t been a bond amongst our kind in centuries, and even if it is true, merely declaring it will not save you and your human.”

“That is not what I’m declaring, you swine piss. You forget I also named him my betrothed.”

“Irrelevant. Our law forbids a human to sit on the throne—“

“God,” Satoru’s voice cut him short. “You vampires bicker more than my dead grandmother.” He was still on the ground, the manacles around his ankles keeping him from standing, but he straighten up as much as he could. “Look, there’s a simple way to solve this. Just do what you were going to do before and kill me. There, settled. Now you can all stop fighting over me. I will die, and the princess can go back to being a princess. Happy?”

“No.” You knew what he was trying to do, and you wouldn’t let him. You faced your father. “I do not expect you to break your own laws for me, father. So I will adhere to them,” you said. “Line six hundred sixty three to six hundred sixty six, passage thirty three, volume six of the First Scripture—if a bond is in doubt, then the bonded has the right to prove it by invoking the Sun Trial, after which the claimed bond cannot be refuted should they succeed.”

Sukuna said nothing while he studied you, mouth drawn in a tight line. But you’d caught it—the slight twitch at the corners, something almost akin to approval. He exhaled, quietly, then glanced at the guards.

“Release the human.”

Naobito’s fangs flashed. “This is treachery. I will not stand for this—“

“It is in our laws,” Sukuna interrupted. “Laws that you’ve been proclaiming to know better than me. Are you going to dismiss them now, Zenin?”

“The slayer is still human, and the princess has still committed treason. If you are too weak to strike your own daughter down, then I will do it for you.”

Sukuna’s eyes darkened, but he did not stoop to Naobito’s taunt. “By all means, kill her if you want,” he said. “But you will have to hunt her down first, in accordance with the Sun Trial. As for the human—“

The manacles around Satoru’s wrists had barely touched the ground when Sukuna stepped forward and, in one swift motion, pierced the silver blade through his stomach. 

Satoru’s eyes widened as he stared down at the blade pulling out of him. Stared at the dark gush of blood, pooling. Dripping onto the snow-covered ground before his own body fell, collapsing.

“No…” Everything in you shattered. “No, no, no…”

You dropped down next to Satoru. You were calling his name. Using your hands to staunch the blood, but it was futile. 

“The Six Eyes has received his punishment,” Sukuna declared. “The Sun Trial is now commenced. The Crown Princess and her mate will have to survive until the next nightfall, after which their bond will be recognised, and their union protected by our most sacred law. In the meantime, all vampires, from any status, will have free reign to hunt them down until dawn breaks.” He tossed the blade aside. “On your feet, daughter.”

You were shaking. You glared up at your father. “I will never forgive you for this.”

But Sukuna only peered down, cold and imperious.

“You do not need to,” he said. “Now run.”

At his words, you moved on instinct.

You shifted. Your wings unfurled. 

Then you were hauling Satoru up into the sky. 

You were going to die. 

“There,” you said, dragging Satoru behind a dense copse of trees. “We can’t stay long. You’re going to bleed out if we don’t get you to the village soon.”

“I’m… fine…”

“You’re dying, Satoru.”

“Dying… not dead…”

Gently, you leaned him against a tree trunk, and crouched down next to him. You tore more fabric off your skirt and added to the blood-soaked wrappings around Satoru’s stomach. 

Satoru winced as you knotted it tightly over his wound. His lips were pale, his breaths shallow and struggling. 

“You should go,” he said, finally stringing his sentences better now that he was resting.

“I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“We won’t reach the village… you know this.”

You did, but you wouldn’t accept it. You pressed your hands against his stomach, applying more pressure. “We’ll find a way,” you said. 

Flying was out of the question. The sky was infested with vampires. The entire court was out hunting for you, and if you so much as flapped your wings, they would surround you and that would be it. 

The only option was by foot. To dart between the cover of the forest, but darting implied you could move quickly, which wasn’t the case given Satoru’s worsening condition.

His eyes were falling shut.

You slapped his face.

“Don’t you dare close them,” you warned him, panicking. “Not now that I’ve carried your sorry ass halfway through this fucking forest.”

A weak chuckle. “A kiss would’ve been better.”

“I’ll kiss you after we’re done with this blasted trial. That way you’ll have something to look forward to.”

“What if… I say please?”

You hesitated, the thing in your chest you now recognised as your heart, twisting.

You leaned in, and brushed your lips against his. 

Satoru caught your mouth, deepening the kiss, and you couldn’t help but part for him. For his tongue to sweep in and claim you, long and slow, tender and painfully desperate.

“Like heaven…” he breathed. 

You stroked his cheek. “We should get going.”

“I think... I’ll stay here.”

“I told you I’m not—”

“Listen…”

“No. I’m helping you up. We’re going to keep moving—”

“I said listen…” He tilted his head up, and you realised then what he meant.

Because you heard it, too.

The lack of sound. No more flapping wings. No more screeching.

The sky was silent. 

Which only meant one thing.

Satoru’s gaze met yours again. “You have to go…”

But you’d known this would happen. Your plan hadn’t been to reach the village, but to get him as close as possible before sunrise. You’d perish, but at least there was a higher chance another human would pass through and find him. 

You steeled yourself, and took his arm. “Come on.”

“Princess—“

“Stop being so stubborn. How many times do I have to repeat that I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“I’m not… the stubborn one here…”

“Move, Satoru.”

But he refused, slumping his weight down further against the tree trunk. 

“I said move!”

“You move…”

“You stupid, stupid fool!” You wanted to slap him again, but then you thought he might just keel over and die just to prove a point. You dropped back down on the ground. “Fine. Stay if you want. So will I.”

He choked out a laugh. “Am I…so irresistible?” 

“You are annoying, that’s what.”

“Come here…”

You let him wrap you in his arms, careful to lean against him where you were sure he wouldn’t hurt. Snow was falling, the shadows of the forest shrinking as you sat with Satoru in silence. You sensed the uneven beat of his pulse slowing. 

“What is it like?” you asked. “The sun?”

“Nothing… compared to you.”

“You have to say that. We are bonded.”

“We don’t have to be… for me to think you’re… beautiful…”

You brushed away the hair on his face, and your fingers continued tracing down his jaw, over his lips, as if memorising very line and curve of the man you were supposed to kill. The human who was supposed to be your prey. The slayer you were supposed to despise. The mortal you were never supposed to give up eternity for.

“Well, Satoru Gojo,” you whispered. “You’ve done it. You’ve vanquished me.”

His breaths were slow, the lids of his eyes heavy. But he smiled. “How cruel of me.”

A pale, golden glow broke through the trees. You stared at it, entranced, watching the snow covering the forest floor shimmer. Watched the skeletal branches of the barren trees lighten, the texture on the barks growing defined. 

You watched the sunlight, and it was everything you’d imagined it to be.

You skin started to prickle. 

Then it was searing. 

You crumpled inwards. Your whimpers turned into cries into screams. It was like being tossed into a flaming hearth. Like having the constant lick of fire against your skin, eating you to the bone.

The pain… it was excruciating. 

You didn’t notice Satoru shifting until he was on top of you. Until the burning ebbed slightly and you found his body curled over your own. In that moment, you realised why he hadn’t wanted to move. With his own broad frame, and the shadows casted by the closely packed trees, he’d created a shield for you.

But light was ever fluid, and it leaked into the crevices of your shelter. Biting. Gnawing. Like the scraping of a candle flame against the bare spots of your skin. 

“Be still,” Satoru breathed. “Or it will… be worse.”

“It hurts…”

“You’ll be alright… you have… me…” He pulled you in tighter underneath him. “Talk to me… tell me something…”

He was trying to distract you, but you couldn’t think past the burning. 

“I’ll go first,” he said. “The night we met… I think I was already in love with you, but I… I couldn’t admit it… After Suguru’s death, I went mad… Megumi… he warned me against it, but I… wouldn’t listen… I sneaked into Sukuna’s castle… and saw you…”

It was too painful to speak, so you just whimpered. 

Satoru continued, “You were in the garden… in a red dress surrounded by red roses… and I think… I made up that plan partly to… give myself an excuse to see you again… to keep coming back…”

He told you about the first time he saw you fly. That he’d almost ran out of his hiding place when he saw you throw yourself out a window, and then almost given himself away a second time when he heard you laughing as you swooped up into the sky. So beautiful. So free. 

He also told you about the first time he saw you feed, and how he realised he could never have you. That he had planted roses in his own garden to remind himself you had thorns. That you were his enemy. That he tried to hate you, everyday, but always ended up failing spectacularly. 

The sunlight was blinding now, seeping through your lids and frying your eyeballs. Your muscles were screaming, your bones were melting, your body a shaking ball of flame beneath him. 

Every time you thought this was it, Satoru would tell you to hold on. Every time you were about to give in and start flailing, Satoru would tell you it was almost over. Just a little while more, he’d say. The sun was coming down, he’d promised. 

Somewhere in between, the agony and the solid weight of his body had melded together, and you could no longer tell one from the other. Time was an unending void, and the lure of death was tasting much, much sweeter.

But then the light began to wane. The scorching brightness behind your eyes dimmed. The flames scorching you alive eased to sweltering to prickling to a cool, winter’s breeze that had you doubting if you were still of this world.

Your eyes squinted open, and the dark veil of night greeted you once again.

“S-Satoru?” you croaked out. 

He didn’t answer. You didn’t remember when he’d stopped speaking, and you were suddenly conscious of his full weight pressing down on you. 

Struggling, you slowly lifted him off you. His body fell limp on the snow, and your hands were on him.

“Satoru,” you shook him. “Satoru, wake up. It’s night.”

Silence. 

“Wake up.”

You shook him harder. 

“Wake up!”

Nothing. 

You stared at him, and there would never be anything more profound than that of your heart shattering. 

“I thought you were beautiful, too,” you whispered, stroking his face. Skin was peeling off your hands like scrolls of burnt parchment, brittle and grey, but you were numb to everything but him. 

You leaned down, and spoke against his still lips.

“Whatever I have been searching for in the skies, I now know it is you.” You kissed him. “Please, come back to me.”

You felt it then. The whisper of a pulse. Barely there. A thread away from snapping. 

He was still alive. 

You didn’t hesitate. Your fingers morphed into claws, tearing into your skin.

Red, dark and fresh, streamed down your palm. You held up his head, parted his lips, and let your blood flow into his mouth, down his throat.

And you waited. For his pulse to stop and the thread of his mortal life to snap, and when it did, the change was immediate.

His fair skin, once the dull, matted tint of a human’s, took on the pale, ethereal sheen of moonlight. His stark white hair was glossier, thicker, the lines of his handsome face sharpening to an incredible definition, and there behind his parting lips—thin and pointed and drenched with your blood—were the beginnings of fangs.

A cough. A splutter.

Blue eyes fluttered awake, peering up at you. And they were now a blue so impossible, it drowned you. 

“So it is done.” 

The voice who spoke did not belong to Satoru, but to the immortal who had appeared, as silent as death itself. 

The night seemed to bend around your father as he stepped towards you.

“The Sun Trial has ended, and so has this ridiculous feud,” Sukuna said, crimson eyes settling on you and Satoru. “You have made your choice, daughter. And now, he will make his.”

Satoru sat up, still dazed. He stared at you, then at Sukuna, then at himself—at the subtle glow of his skin, the new movement his hands made as he turned them in front of his face, at the wound on his stomach, no longer bleeding. His gaze found yours again.

“You—you turned me into—“

“She did you a favour, slayer,” Sukuna said. “You would have died either way—I made sure of it. And you are not a vampire yet until you have fed.”

“I did not ask for this.”

“Then go ahead and die for all I care. Do you really think it is so simple to become one of us? If it was the case, there would be many more of us and less of you.”

Sukuna tossed a vial of red liquid onto the snow.

“A vampire can only turn a human once in their entire existence, and my daughter has, for better or worse, chosen you. I cannot fathom why—she’s always had bad taste in men—but in doing so, you now have a luxury even kings cannot claim.” He gestured at the vial. “So choose. Do you treasure your mortality so much you would die for it, or do you treasure my daughter more than life?”

But your father’s words swam in your head.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” you said, fixing him with a look that dared him to deny it. “You waited to execute Satoru so I would find a way to save him. You rearranged the books in the library knowing I would come across the Sun Trial and invoke it. You stabbed him with that sword knowing I would choose to turn him.”

Sukuna merely regarded you, calmly, and said, “If you believe I would go to such lengths for you, my daughter, then I will take it as a compliment.” But you saw the tell-tale sign in his jaw. The feather of a twitch. 

There was no point in wringing it out of your father, so instead, you took Satoru’s hands in yours. 

“Despise me if you must,” you said. “Whatever you choose, I will accept it—I will accept it if you take the blood and leave me. I will accept it if you don’t and leave me. But what I cannot accept is not telling you that I love you. I will never stop. You are the shape of my soul, until I am beyond dust. Until time unending.”

Snow fell in the space between you and him. Satoru looked at you, quietly. Completely. For a long while, he didn’t speak. 

Then he sighed. “Megumi’s going to throw a fit.”

Satoru pulled you against him, and like the force that drew you hopelessly together, your mouths found one another, and it was a kiss to end all that was before, and all that would come after. There was only him and you, and two halves of a desperate wish finally becoming whole. 

“My princess,” he murmured against your lips. “You are the cruelest of them all—making me love you for eternity.”

“Do you not want to?”

“I cannot help it.”

You smiled, and kissed him again.

Sukuna cleared his throat. “If you are done slobbering all over my daughter, slayer, then get it over with. I have other pressing matters than standing here and regretting I didn’t separate your head from your body.”

Satoru simply stuck out his hand.

“Then toss the vial over here, old man. As you can see, the princess is clearly incapable of letting me go just yet.”

It was a time of peace, at least for the humans. The legend of the supposedly incompetent yet deadly Six Eyes had become exactly that—a legend. 

New Transylvania had a vampire prince. A prince who only drank donated blood, and only from his jewel-encrusted goblet. A prince who carried a silver sword around, impaling any immortal who dared step foot across the village borders. A prince whom the vampire king received complaints about to no end. A prince who, everyone and the king himself knew, they would be stuck with for the rest of time, because their beloved (unless one wanted to be staked) princess loved him with all her heart. 

And it was glaringly obvious the prince loved her in return, because he made sure to remind everyone of it—the court, the servants, the guards, and any unlucky creature who had the misfortune of hearing them. Every. Single. Night.

“That’s it, princess. God, you’re so fucking tight I’m going crazy,” he groaned as he pounded you against the library stacks. “Go on, let them know who your perfect pussy belongs to.”

“Ahn! Yes! Satoru—fuck—fuck me harder!”

“Who’s cock do you love? Say it.”

“I love Satoru Gojo’s cock!”

It would continue like this for hours, sometimes until dawn, rendering whatever room or hallway the both of you were fucking in completely inaccessible. And if it was out in the gardens, then the castle occupants had the option to stay indoors, or stay outside and have Sukuna pluck out their eyes later. 

Eventually, when even the king’s own ears were staring to bleed, he was forced to hold an intervention with you and Satoru, to establish certain boundaries. Those boundaries being sending the both of you away to torture Megumi instead at Satoru’s estate every fortnight. 

“After you, my love.” Satoru was grinning as he held out a hand.

You took it, and let him help you up the tower’s ledge. Felt his arms winding around your waist, pressing your back against him. 

His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Shall I catch you?”

“You’re not fast enough.”

“Really? Then I suppose you’ve conveniently forgotten about all the other times I was.”

“Not tonight.” You smiled as you pushed him away, and leapt off the ledge. 

You heard his laughter follow behind.

Wings spread, you soared up high, and chanced a look back.

Only to find him swerving around and in front of you with swift, leathery wings. But unlike your own—the colour of smoke and shadows—his were silvery white, pale as the moon that watched him pull you against him in the air.

He kissed you, deep and slow, like he had all the time in the world. Like the infinite times he did before and the infinite times he would after. 

“It’s not so bad,” he whispered.

“What is?”

A million stars gleamed in his impossible blue eyes. Satoru smiled.

“Forever.”

thank you for reading to the end ilyyy! i originally intended for this fic to be short, but then i caught worldbuilding disease and now it's a whole soulmate arc >.< what do you think? i'd love to know your thoughts ♡

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But isn’t he just a disappointment anyway?

“Am I having fun watching you with another woman at my engagement party?” You ask softly, shaking your head. “I get it, I’m not your type. I knew that from people telling me so.”

He pauses, right in the center of the dance floor.

“Yet I expected some decorum, I expected you to at least be respectful, not to show the world how unappealing you find me,” you whisper, biting down on your lip, shaking your head now. “I wanted to at least try here, with you.”

Satoru can’t speak.

Until he spins you, and catches you, his big hand taking over your waist, thumb pressing under the swell of your breasts. He almost falls then, from just a look, yet he holds himself back, he stops every insane thought and action, laughing easily, like he’s amused.

Satoru is good at hiding.

“Ya thought we’d have some story book romance, huh? Oh… you’re a fairy princess and I’m from another kingdom? And oh…” He leans down, so low to you, lips a breath away. “I fall for the princess, she’s just so beautiful, how can’t I?”

“Gojo…”

“News to you, perfect little fairy princess, I’m not interested in marriage, or any of this shit, this show, I fucking hate it,” his words are harsh, as he squeezes you too tightly, so tightly you’re shaking, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Your prince from another kingdom just stuck his fingers in a waitress. That’s reality, sweetheart.”

You tremble in his hold, and he knows then.

He hurt you.

Good, he thinks, shit will be easier that way, safer if you hate him, if you smack him, tell him to fuck himself. Yet you tilt your chin up and spin as the dance calls for, giving a little curtsey as he steps closer, not showing a hint of emotion aside from your tears that you seemingly can’t stop.

“I see,” is all you say then, stepping back into his arms, as the crowd of gossiping families speaks of it all, you hold all of your composure, even as he raises a brow, looking down at you. “Maybe I am foolish, to have thought it that way. Yet I still don’t understand why you’re…”

“What, little princess? So mean?”

You just look down again, quiet, swallowing visibly, you smell too good, invading his fucking senses. “I didn’t think you were mean when I met you as a child.”

“As a child?” Satoru pauses, and you sigh, shaking your head.

“Of course you wouldn’t remember, I’m not very special.” You step back as the song ends, and your tragic eyes meet his, before lowering them and bowing a little bit. “Have a good rest of your evening, I’m feeling a little…” You look at the girl he’d just kissed. “Sick.”

When you rush off, politely excusing yourself, Satoru feels this sinking in his heart, questions simmering under the surface – what if he just was kind to you? What if he at least didn't make a fool of himself?

But he doesn't go after you, no that would have been the ‘right’ thing to do. The thing is, you're much better off without him. So he's dancing with women who make his family furiously whisper amongst themselves, and he just knows -

You will hate him, and you’re better off for it.

*****

You

You didn't expect a fairy tale marriage. Even marrying the man who is basically the ‘prince’ of all the families, all of the clans, the Gojo heir. You may as well be the ‘princess’ of your own, both of you promised as children to each other, knowing no love or match would come to anything.

This was it, your future, but you met him when he was just a little kid, he's two years older than you. His blue eyes and spiky white hair were enough to make your heart race, but mostly you noticed how sad those blue eyes were.

He wasn't mean then, he was kind and reserved, not boisterous, laughing and acting a fool. He was cautious more like you are, both of you not wanting to disappoint your very harsh parents who had so many expectations. Satoru had given you his hand, holding it tightly, pressing a little kiss on the back of it.

So you'll be my wife some day

Yeah…

You're um… pretty.

That was it, just a moment and then he'd had to run off. And you only saw Satoru in bits and pieces, here and there from afar, watching and knowing he didn’t notice you. Yet that moment gave you hope. 

Just to fucking crush it all.

It's your wedding night, and his staff is carrying all of your luggage inside the expensive mansion. Satoru is drunk, you notice he is around you, as if that helps with the pain of having to be married to you, stumbling just a bit and chuckling darkly when you try to help him.

“I'm fine,” he yanks your hand off like you burned him. Your tummy is in knots, you feel sick. “Let me show you your room. Princess.”

He says it always mockingly, tonight you know he was with someone again, he's made no attempt to hide kissing others. You're sure he probably does more, but you're innocent yourself so you don't exactly know what's what. Your parents pounded innocence and propriety in your head.

You'll be Gojo’s wife, you must be pure for him.

What a joke, really, to be pure for someone who will never want you, to watch him kissing on necks in the gardens, laughing until he sees your face. You never have been a very confident girl, but everyone has always told you that you're pretty, lovely, so you sort of didn't think your looks were an issue.

Then again, it could just be you. Maybe you're boring, maybe you're too proper. Your mind wracks with doubts as he leads you up the winding staircase of the Gojo mansion up to a dark hallway. He opens a door and you pause, breath catching in your throat at how beautiful it is.

“This is our room?” You ask softly, the blue silk bed and gossamer canopy snug in a room of soft whites and blues. He chuckles, making you look at him.

“They had it made for us, pretentious isn't it?” You blink a bit.

“I think it's beautiful,” it's quiet when you step in, still in your beaded and saying white wedding gown. You slip off your veil and take a breath. Looking in the mirror.

You look gorgeous today.

No matter what he says or doesn't say, you see it in that reflection. In your lashes, in your eyes, in your lips, painted a pretty crimson. Your body is showcased to perfection, modest but still sensual, just hints of your lines and curves outlined, the material glinting in the soft light.

“Your room,” he says at the doorway, and you pause, making him smirk. “You didn't think we were fucking did you?”

You blush furiously, looking down nervously at your hands entwined in front of you. “I did think we would… make the marriage official even if you don't find me attractive.”

It's dead silent, lingering in the air – your insecurities rampant.

“Why? Because our duty?” He asks, stepping inside, his dress shoes echoing on the floor, coming to stand behind you, reflection in the mirror making you tremble.

“We will need to have babies, it's expected of me. Or I'll be… a failure as a wife.” Your voice breaks, and for a moment you see blue eyes soften, you feel fingertips slipping over your straps, yet they halt, and his eyes narrow. 

“I won't fuck you, not for duty or expectations, fuck them and fuck that.”

It's like a slap to the face. You take a breath, trembling now. “Gojo, am I that displeasing really? I tried so hard to look-”

“Nothing will make me fuck you,” he murmurs coolly. “We will ride this shit out till I find a way to end it somehow.”

“End it?” your brows draw together, eyes swimming in unshed tears, his fingers slip off now, going to your back, slowly undoing the little rows of buttons methodically.

“An annulment, divorce, whatever… fuck this shit, I'm not staying married.” he is casual as he helps you out of your dress, knuckles tracing up your spine, then he smirks. “Oh shit. You want me? Hah… that's cute.”

“I… um… you…” You're flushed, reflection in the mirror blushing, as you look at him, his cruel smirk, his mean eyes. “Am I not supposed to want you?”

“Of course you do, I am Satoru Gojo,” he presses those straps down, pausing when he gets a view of your breasts as you hold the dress against them, your back exposed and bare. “You can always touch yourself and think of me, who am I to deny that? But I will never touch you.”

It's like he just stabs you in the stomach. You turn, facing the cruel, tall man now, on the night you hoped for something, anything, but you're just met with a mean curve of his lips. “So what, you'll just… fuck anyone but me?”

“You can cuss?” He laughs a bit, fingers curling along one of the carefully coifed ringlets.

“Yes, I can. I just don't usually,” you take a breath. Trying to remember. 

Obey him.

Treasure him.

For your family

“You don't know me and you won't even try to, will you?”

“You want dick that bad, huh?” You gasp, slapping him as hard as you can then, he winces and rubs his cheek, glaring at you. You falter, looking at his pink cheek and gasping.

“I'm sorry. I…”

“Let's get one thing straight, princess,” Satoru Gojo leans over you, an arm on either side, tilting his head as you grip your wedding dress tightly to your chest. “We can do our own things. I get it. You have to live here for now.”

For now.

“But don't you dare fucking hit me,” he grips your wrist, bruising with his long fingers, you gasp out at the pain, tears falling. “Not used to men not wanting you, huh?”

“What!?” You're blinking in confusion, his grip tightening, your heart sinking.

You feel so sick.

“Never been turned down because you're the family princess, aww. So cute,” he leans down, touching your cheek, eyes a cruel bluee. “Everyone after that money, after a chance with you, so special. Well you're not fucking special to me, we are just the same.”

“I don't think I'm special or anything!? I never said that.”

“Don't have to, I can just see it.”

You're shaking in his hold. “I just thought we could try, you don't even know if we have anything, a connection or-”

Gojo laughs at you.

He laughs. 

“Try what, fucking you? You want my dick real bad.”

“No!? Just if we could feel a connection? I… like you haven't kissed me, how do you even-”

Satoru grabs your face, leaning low and pressing his lips against yours, capturing them and making you lose your breath. You melt when his plump lips work yours, when a hand comes to entangle in your hair, your hands slipping off your dress so that your nipples hit the cool air.

His tongue slips in your mouth, exploring the recesses with far too much finesse, hot and drooling as he presses you against the hard wood of the dresser.

You've never kissed.

You try to move your tongue back, knowing you're awful at it, your arms slipping around his neck. He's mean, he's cruel, but you want to try, you want to have this. Feel whatever this dizzy sensation is, one of his hands gripping your breast as he pulls back, lips glossy, eyeing them now.

“I'll give you this,” he murmurs softly. “You have perfect tits.”

“Um…” You're stammering again, whimpering when his thumb brushes your nipple. 

“Perfect posture, pretty face, nice little body. It's not enough though sweetheart," he pulls back now, grinning and crossing his arms as you just stand there. “There, your kiss, and there's nothing between us. Is there? Enough to shove that fantasy out of your head?”

Nothing!?

“You think keeping your tits out will make me hard?” You gasp, covering them up, blinking back more hot tears.

He wipes his lips with his thumb. As if to remove the kiss from his memory. You look down, pain making you dizzy – deep pain.

“I just… you’re so sure that this won’t work that you’re not trying!” He laughs softly, without humor.

Charming. Handsome. Cruel.

Satoru’s two fingers brush down your collarbone and across it, a mean smile on a devastatingly pretty face as he watches goosebumps dance across your skin. "You want me to touch you. Hmm?"

"I just…" you cover yourself with your arms now, suddenly so insecure, you were anyway but this was more. It was worse, having the man you've been infatuated with since a kid turning you down, on a night you felt so beautiful. "I just thought we could try to find some common ground, to maybe make this work. Become… more?"

He leans down, his sweet breath against your lips, tickling them as his blue eyes glitter, cold like the most beautiful sapphires, and just as hard, there’s no emotion in their depths. So cold you shiver, swallowing nervously.

"Oh sweetheart, I don't want any of it. What they tell me to do, what they expect, no... I'll burn it all to the fucking ground, and them with it.”

“Burn it to the ground?” Your whisper is soft, his lips curve mean when he grips your chin.

"You're a pretty girl, but I'm not for you. That's the most you're getting from me.”

Not. For. You.

"What is so wrong with me?” You hate how desperate you sound.

Was this who you are?

Do you know yourself outside of becoming Satoru Gojo's wife?

“It’s not…” he trails off, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. “You just don’t seem to get it, little princess. It’s an inconvenience, this entire thing.”

Great.

You’re just a fucking inconvenience to your ‘husband’.

“We will let them think we're good for a year, maybe two. Then I'll get out of this, you should thank me really, it's not like you chose it either.”

He turns now, leaving you close to collapsing, with the pain, with the casual cruelty. “Satoru…”

“Don't fucking call me that,” he snaps, looking back at you. You step back and bump into the elegant dresser, shaking as he looks at you with such hatred. “You don't get to call me my first name.”

“I am… I am sorry if I messed something up. If I did something wrong…” You're sniffling your tears, trying to keep it together. “I haven't even kissed before and I probably am just bad at it. Just give me a chance to-”

“Stop trying,” his voice is softer, like he fucking feels bad for you. That's worse than his cruelty – pity. “Just keep to yourself and I will too, until I find a way out of it. It's useless to try.”

“Useless to?”

“Sweetheart,” his tongue is honeyed, a lilt to his voice. “I'll never want you.”

The knife in your heart?

Twisted.

“Oh, I see…” You take a breath, just nodding then, hands gripping the beaded material so tightly they ache.

Obedient.

Sweet.

Serve your husband.

It's what you were trained to be, a traditional wife who follows her husband's orders, even your stinging palm was beyond what you're used to. How can you serve a man that doesn’t want you, how can you obey someone when their only order is for you to quit trying?

As he walks out, with just one look over his shoulder before he shuts that door, leaving you alone in the room on your own in tears on your very wedding night… how can you act like that kiss meant nothing to you? How can you not sink down on that bed all alone, and sob.

The boy you fell in love with doesn't remember you.

Doesn't want you.

No, he hates you.

And you'll have to endure this and be a failure to your parents, the worst of all your fears.

You don't stop sobbing until dawn breaks into the windows.

*****

Gojo

It's been a month of having you in his home, you're trying to be so perfect too. Dinner ready every night, you sit there and wait for him, smiling so pretty, wearing some new outfit as if he will ever touch you again, trying to talk to him, to get to know him.

Satoru can't stand you.

All you do is make him want to end it quicker, so that he has no feelings in this. No amount of slutty little slips or lingering before bed time is getting him to consummate the marriage, to give in to what his family and elders shoved on him, controlling his entire life.

Nah fuck that.

Satoru is balls deep inside his secretary right now, condom dripping with her cum as he lets her bounce up and down his latex covered cock. He leans back and moans as she works him like a pro, bouncing her ass and letting it jiggle under the shoved up pencil skirt.

Of course he thinks of you, fists his cock to images of those tits, imagines those lips around his tip. All the more reason to not fuck you, imagine if he did? You were a virgin, probably would lay there and not know how to do shit, you could barely kiss him back.

He'd have to be all gentle, not slam you down and bottom out like he could right now. She's moaning, too loud, he has to slam a hand on her mouth, lips against her ear.

“We're at work,” he reminds gently.

“Sorry Mr. Gojo. Mnh!” Satoru's big hands work her up and down, bottoming out as she cums, covering her own mouth as she screams out.

“Hah, so messy,” he taunts, she's squirting all over his Armani slacks, right when the door opens.

Fuck.

Did he not lock it?

He pauses, and its…

You.

You quickly shut the door and turn away, as his secretary gasps, panicking and lifting up. Satoru drags her back down, eyeing you.

“Wife,” he teases, you turn to look at him, lunchbox in your hands. “Didn't expect you at my work. Can I cum real quick, then we can talk?”

You say nothing, obedient little thing that you are, not an ounce of fire in you aside from a little smack. He supposes that's how you were raised, how boring really, but he shoves the woman down once more. Toying with her clit and making her moan in front of you, right as he busts in that condom, groaning softly.

“Fuck, there we go,” he taps her and she hops off, giggling when she tugs her skirt down, rushing past you.

“Mrs. Gojo.” she says, you just step back and nod.

“Hello.”

‘Hello’ is what you say, to the woman who'd been riding your husband's cock?

He tosses the condom in the trash under his desk, sighing and smirking over at you, when you turn and see him, still hard and covered in milky seed, turning back around again.

“I'm sorry.”

“You're sorry?” He demands, slipping his boxers up now. “I was fucking someone and you're sorry?”

“I should have called first,” you turn back again, as he zips up, cheeks tinged pink.

You look beautiful today.

He wouldn't tell you. But you do.

“I was just… I learned to make sushi? I was so bored lately. Then… they kind of look ugly? But they're um… yummy and-”

“Just stop, fuck,” you look at him, tears in your eyes, clenched fists at your side when he takes the bento box. “Stop trying so hard, it's not gonna happen.”

“Gojo-”

“Stop, don't hurt yourself more.”

“But why am I so… why would you never ever want me?” you whisper brokenly then. “I am not trying to be mean but her? She's not even… attractive!? I don't-”

He laughs at you again, shaking his head. “You are a spoiled rich girl, a mean little thing. Because she's not drop dead gorgeous I couldn't want her? Looks mean nothing really, little princess. It's just you who I don't want.”

Your breasts heave up and down, finally a glare on your otherwise sad little pretty face. “I am trying!”

“I don't want you to fucking try, constantly acting like the perfect wife. I don't want it. Don't want you, how clear can I fucking make it!?”

You step up to him then, tilting your head to look up at the tall, cruel man, lipstick on his fucking neck, smirking at you. “Well maybe I don't want YOU, but I fucking TRY.”

“Oh. You want me,” he tilts your chin up, grinning at you, feeling your skin hot to the touch. “Bet you're so desperate you'd lick her pussy off me. Wouldn't you? For a chance.”

“I would never,” you shake your head. “Fine, you win. I won't try anymore.”

“Good. It's for your own best interest,” he pats your cheek and smiles. “What's on your plans today, hmm little perfect wife?”

“Not making dinner.” he smirks at you again. “Not trying for you ever again.”

You rush out of the door, dejected, shoulders slumped, when you look back at him though?

That look.

Heartbroken, devastated, done for. Like you just lost all your goddamn will to live.

That one hurts.

Satoru was not cruel before you. Sure he was a dick, he played a lot, he was conceited, but to make you give up trying made him have to push you away. If even fucking in front of you didn't he had to push it further, and he thinks that's the moment you gave up on him.

It's for your own best interest to end this when he can, to be strangers.

Your eyes are burned in his brain as he opens your dumb bento box, and sees these pretty little Sushi. Shaped like little hearts with pink paper instead of the traditional.

He swallows down his guilt when he sees them laid out with a cup of soup, rice, a drink even. And a little note on pink paper.

He hates himself more when he opens it. 

Gojo, I know you don't want me, don't want this, but if we could just try… I think there could be something, truly. When we kissed I did feel it, somewhere buried under the surface. 

I know I'm not who you chose, or who you want, but I hope one day we could grow to like each other. I am trying my hardest and I just hope that it can be enough.

Have a great day at work, I will see you at home.

Tears slip onto the note, bleeding the ink through the paper, he looks at the shut door you'd walked out of, remembering your eyes..they'd always fucking haunt him. That look of defeat written all over them.

You were bringing him lunch and love notes when he was letting a secretary ride his cock.

“Mr. Gojo?” his assistant opens his door, and he pauses, looking up at her. “You have a two a clock.”

“Right…” He just stares at the sushi, at the note, before shutting his eyes, swiping off tears he hasn't cried since he was a little kid.

That night, no dinner is made by you. No it's the chefs as it should always be, but it's a sign, as is you not in that dining room waiting for him. He walks around the mansion, looking for you, for any sign that you're in his home.

Why does he care?

He hears your sobs from the room you are supposed to share, and rests his door on it.

Why did you have to try so hard, when he told you not to?

“He will never w-want me…” You're sobbing and hiccuping. “Never enough.”

He swallows down his own self loathing, resting his head on the door, wondering at just who he is. Is this Satoru Gojo, or is this Satoru Gojo trying to be anything else but what he's always been pushed into?

He walks off to his own room, shutting the door. He'd have to end this marriage soon as he can, in whatever way that meant – to get you the fuck away from him. You may hate him for it, but at least you'd have a little bit of a choice in your life.

*****

You

You come home from an event with Satoru, a press junket where you have to act like a happy newlywed. And you do just that, you play your role, giggling with his hand on your waist, the most contact you've had since that kiss – the one where he felt nothing for you. The one that you felt shaken from, suddenly fucking delusional, in spite of the fact of one thing.

Satoru Gojo made sure to let you know there was no chance, he didn’t mince words, didn’t lead you on, it was your own hope that made you keep trying that first month, that hope that even after seeing him with his dick inside a woman, maybe he’d feel anything. Fuck, he made sure to cum before she got off of him, didn’t even stop mid fuck.

That’s how unimportant you were.

Yet even then you tried, until he made that disgusting comment – licking another woman off him? Calling you pathetic?

Well, you were.

You were not going to be cruel to him despite the rage in your heart, however, you just no longer try, it’s quiet when you take off your heels at the door, and he slips off his dress shoes. You both say nothing, but you feel his eyes on you at times, as if he expects some word out of your mouth.

You no longer say good morning, good night, you just live your life with Satoru for another month like this, he’ll have a girl over in his room, but you keep to yourself, living so alone… yet, with him.

Your few friends you have get worried for you, every time you get to see them over the next couple months you look more tired, you don’t look like you’re eating, you have dark circles under your eyes, the eyes that don’t glimmer any longer. They share their concerns quietly, over a nice brunch, but you act like everything is just fine.

Tonight your mother had pulled you aside, making sure to dissect your looks to a fault, including said dark circles – As if you didn’t have enough insecurities just being married to Satoru Gojo, a man who’d fuck anyone but you.

“You have to keep yourself together, look he’s all over those women,” she whispers, you would laugh but you know better, the woman who beat submission into your head was right here. You just look down, nodding.

“He always is.”

“So you need to get his attention,” you sigh, wanting to explain how hard you tried, even in lieu of him fucking that secretary in front of you, but you merely nod once more. “Get yourself together, you look like you haven’t slept in a week, your hair is oily even. What’s wrong with you!?”

What’s wrong with you?

You peer over to your tall, white haired husband surrounded by women in the ridiculously extravagant event, glamorously dressed when you chose a thin silk number, not caring anymore. You didn’t do your makeup, what did that matter? It’s not as if he’d ever look at you anyway.

“You’ll make him look bad, make us all look bad, you must gather yourself together and try more. Have I not raised you to be the perfect wife?”

The perfect wife.

To a husband who hates you.

“You did indeed Mother,” you manage to say, clearing your throat that night, feeling the eyes of so many curiously flit between you both. “I shall try not to disappoint you and father.”

Yet you are done trying, as he asked you to be, walking up the stairs now with him slowly trailing behind, as if to make sure there was enough space between the both of you.

Try a gym!

Or a spa day?

You need self care babe!

Yeah, your friends advice about self care was not enough for what you’re going through, but they ring in your head, as you head to your room, and reach around to try to unzip your dress. You curse, moving your hand in every which way, you then try to tug it up off you, but it’s half stuck with the tight material.

Fuck, you’re gonna have to ask him.

“Gojo…” You say, standing by his door, he’s up typing away on the laptop, shirtless, his body cut and chisled, muscles moving as he sits up straighter, eyeing you carefully.

“You, coming to my room?” You flush furiously, looking down.

“Don’t worry, I’ll never, ever ask to be intimate again,” you whisper, the pain still piercing your heart, your soul. He just looks down. “I just really can’t get out of this dress, and I swear to god it’s not a hit on or seduction.”

“Ah,” he doesn’t gloat like usual, standing up now, his sweats falling down his hips, you wish he didn’t look so good like that, coming up to you carefully, everything flexing as he walks. “Zipper stuck?”

“I think so, and it won’t go up over my damn hips,” you grumble, when he comes closer. “I’m sorry.”

“You apologize constantly,” you just nod again. “Turn around.”

You do that, lifting your hair off the nape of your neck for him, two of his fingers grasp the metal zipper, slipping it down achingly slow, the noise loud in his quiet room, mixing with his own catch of breath. It’s quiet, a few tendrils falling against the nape of your neck, as the zipper jams just a bit, stuck in the middle.

“Hang on…” He mumbles, clearly irritated, holding the dress tight together and then grasping it, jerking you just a bit as he finally gets it down. “There.”

“Thank you, Gojo,” you say softly, as he looks at the smooth expanse of your back, and for a moment neither of you move, you turn to face him, still holding your hair up. “I didn’t mean to bug you.”

He doesn’t say anything, knuckles brushing down your spine lightly, enough to make you ache in your core, something you’ve never really felt before this moment. You swallow nervously, blushing and looking away, you can’t make a fucking fool out of yourself again.

You will not push something he clearly doesn’t want, it’s just not right – even in the name of ‘marriage’ it should be Satoru’s choice too, and he so clearly would never choose you, in any world. You turn now, straps slipping down your shoulders, his bright blue eyes get dark and lidded when his gaze hits your tits, the tops of them showcased with the little dress half off.

“I’ll let you um… sleep.” You say, he just blinks a moment, clearing his throat now.

“Yeah.”

You slowly walk out, wondering if it is just you looking for something, anything, the way you damn near begged him to notice you, to want you, it was as he said – pathetic. Even knowing he’s fucking women actively, that he doesn’t have the time of day for you at all, you still crave it, you still don’t retaliate.

His phone rings, and you hear him murmuring while you’re in the hallway – 

Hey sweets, hmm… I bet you do miss me.

You feel your feet get heavy, you’ve been barely eating because you’re just fucking miserable, but hearing that as his door shuts and you walk to your lonely room sinks in. The miserable realization that he doesn’t care about you, that even if he gave you a glance, it was nothing, you were nothing to him.

You slip that dress off when you’re in your bedroom, looking at yourself in the mirror, even just his proximity always put a blush to your cheeks, as if your body was betraying your mind. You remember what your friends told you the other day, their concerned gazes, and the way they tried to be supportive when they barely know the half of what you endure.

Having to hear your husband jerking it on the phone and talking another girl through it when he has never touched you?

You are tired of crying, so tired.

You look up gyms in the area, sure that’s not really going to help a damn thing, but it might be enough to keep you busy, considering you can’t even work as a Gojo wife, and you’re left alone too often in the quiet, thinking too much. You pick one and map it, while laying in your bed and snuggling, yawning a bit as sleep starts to drag you under.

“All right, let’s see if self care will help me at all,” you say to yourself quietly, drifting off into a dreamless sleep, as you have been.

What’s there to dream about anymore?

*****

Sukuna

His knuckles are aching from hitting the big heavy black bag, punching it over and over, his class is done but Sukuna always loves to blow some steam off, and the best way is to beat the bag to a pulp. His ruby eyes are locked on the target, exhaling and controlling his breathing.

One, two.

One, two, punch.

Cross, jab, hook.

It’s methodical, it’s easy, even as his muscles ache – that ache is sweet, it’s so perfect to feel, he grins as he imagines beating the fuck out of so many people then. Start with his shit father – his mother gets a pass only due to being a woman – and then, all the little pretentious shits he went to college with.

Sukuna was supposed to be training to become a CEO, to take over his father’s position, and be a nepo baby like the rest of those damn men he partied with at the frat in college. Yet, he never, ever wanted that, and he built something for himself – several gyms, he’s trained pro boxers, national champions.

This was what Sukuna wanted to do.

Mostly, he loved to box, he cared just a little bit enough not to join those matches himself – oh, what would that look like!? The Sukuna heir going into a boxing ring!? Yet, at the same time, he had dreams of it. Of being in a ring and knocking everyone out, pushing that ‘family disappointment’ name even further.

For now, however, there is peace in the quiet gym.

That is, until you walk in.

Tired and fucking beautiful, these dark circles that sit under your eyes, a shy little nervous smile, about five minutes before he closes. You stand at the door and look around, frowning then and staring at your phone, wearing some pretty little yoga outfit and a big sweater, like you were getting ready for pilates rather than kickboxing.

“I’m sorry, first off for coming so late, second… ugh I thought you were a regular gym! Where is my brain…” You smack your forehead, turning, when he literally runs up to you, stopping you before fully thinking of it.

Sukuna, running.

You really are that pretty, when he sees a giant rock on your finger he curses internally, sighing.

“I do other things here, a whole room of workout machinery,” he says then, his voice just a little gruff, when you turn and look up at him, so shy, you look right back down at your feet, hugging yourself a bit. “I can show you, just need to lock up.”

“You probably want to get home, god I’m sorry, I slept all day like a miserable… oh… so sorry.” You have said sorry again, rambling now, making Sukuna wonder.

Just who has you this down? This shy? This clearly hurt?

“I meant to come earlier,” you blink back tears, looking up again with them swimming in your pretty eyes, so pretty he can’t decide what color they are, but the way they look at him almost takes him out. “I set an alarm, and promised I would make myself do something, then I just… hit it over and over. And now I’m rambling.”

“And crying,” he smirks a bit, swiping off a tear. “Rambling, crying, coming in late too, huh?”

“I know I’m so-”

“I’m teasing,” he chuckles softly, shaking his head and tilting your chin up. “If you want to do any sport, you need eye contact. Even when they’re all red and bloodshot.”

“Well your eyes are red too! I mean, oh my god!?” You cover your mouth, he laughs again softer this time. “I’m sorry, I like their color, they’re beautiful. Not to say I am hitting on you! Oh dear god…”

“Will you take a breath?” You shut your eyes, nodding. “A deep one, in… there you go, and out.”

Your breasts rise and fall, the sweater slipping further off a shoulder, as he takes in the mess that’s come to his doorstep – a beautiful, tragically broken mess that does something he can’t explain. When you swipe your cheeks and try to give a tremulous smile, you break whatever heart Sukuna has in his chest.

Who fucking hurt you like this?

Damage recognizes damage, but this…

“Don’t apologize a fourth time, yeah?” You nod then, sniffling a bit and attempting a better smile.

“I really just want to… apparently I need self care, my friends say, and I thought a gym might… help. But I can’t box, or kickbox.”

“Why not? You've got a lot of pent up tension," his hands brush down your shoulders softly, feeling the tenseness. "Bet you’d kill it."

"Me!?" You giggled nervously but he was serious, a huge handsome man crossing his arms and raising a brow, leaned back a bit in the quietness of his gym. "Kickboxing, huh?"

"Think you can't?"

You shake your head, and he sees it all over your face –

You don’t think you can do anything.

“Why not? Husband wants you all girlie or something?” He addresses the ring with a glance, you laugh without humor, your face darkening then.

“He doesn’t give a shit what I do, no, we’re not,” you trail off, shaking your head. “I dumped enough trauma on you just walking in here. What’s your name?”

“Sukuna,” he takes your hand, feeling yours just a little sweaty in his grip. “What do you mean doesn’t give a shit?”

“He doesn’t like me.” He blinks at that. 

“Trouble in paradise?”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “Let’s say he’s done more with his secretary than me so far,” Sukuna frowns at that, raising a dark brow. “It’s okay, really don’t feel bad for me. I just need something to get my mind off it.”

Who the fuck wouldn’t want you?

He almost says it, but he holds back, nudging his head now. “Lemme show you around the gym.”

He locks the door behind you so no random people try to come after hours, and you follow him through, looking up at the ceiling – it’s high, wooden beams running across it, it was once an old factory before Sukuna bought it off the guy. The walls are all red and orange brick, some of it is painted white, with graffiti art.

“That’s so cool,” you murmur, walking up to it then, touching it gently. “What is all of this?”

“Some of the guys like to come tag it,” he says, there are all sorts of images scrawled, along with Sukuna’s name in big red letters, little demon horns over the U. “I think they’re callin’ me the devil.”

“No!” You laugh, the sound so foreign to your own ears, he can just tell when you sober up a bit, smiling gently now. “You, the devil?”

“Mmm, you don’t know shit about me yet,” you blush a bit at the insinuation. “You’d run out if you knew what I was thinking.”

“You don’t have to be so… nice to me, okay? Because you feel bad.”

Sukuna blinks his pink lashes. “Huh?”

“I can tell, you’re a really good person,” you walk up to him, touching his hand now, sucking in a breath at the contact, fingers tracing his calloused, beat up knuckles. “Thank you though.”

“You think I’m pretending to find you attractive?” He almost can’t take you serious, but your face says it all. “Yeah, no, I’m not that nice. Now follow me before I say something real fucking dumb.”

You’re a flustered mess, letting your hand fall and nodding.

“This is where you’d like to be,” he mentions, toward the room with all of the normal equipment – treadmills, ellipticals, rowing machines, all sleek and black. “So you can just do your normal little workouts. Yoga mats and all.”

“Oh! I see,” you’re just a step behind him, he can inhale that perfume, he doesn’t know what scent it is but it’s driving him insane, when he stops and you bump into him. “Ah!”

He catches you quickly, frowning a bit at how weak you seem, assessing you. “You eat anything today?”

You blink a bit.

How'd he notice?

“No.”

“It’s six?”

“Yeah, not for a couple days,” you mumble. Sukuna glares at you, far, far too attractive and you’re not even fucking eating.

“If you have some… problem, you gotta tell me if I’m gonna train you, yeah?”

“No, nothing like that, just can’t eat when I’m sad,” your words are soft, barely over a whisper, running your fingers along the arm of a treadmill. “It’s been a few days I guess.”

“A few days, the fuck?” What sort of husband lets his wife just not eat?

He supposes the kind that makes her an unconfident, sad girl that cries the moment she enters a gym. Sukuna knows damn well he shouldn’t get involved in the shit, but just looking at you hurts him, in a way he’s not sure he’s felt, recognizing a version of himself so long ago, when he was young, when he wanted that approval, when he craved it so badly.

But more than that.

“If you don’t eat tomorrow I’ll be shoving food in your mouth,” you laugh at that, covering your mouth again. “I’m serious, the fuck you mean days?”

“I will make myself eat before I come.”

“And you’ll come at a decent time, yeah? Not before I close. Do I need to set three alarms to get your bratty ass up?”

“Bratty!?” you laugh again, shaking your head, the sight so fucking cute it destroys him.

God he’d drop to his knees just to kiss up those thighs, fucking lick you right over those leggings, the ones just a little snug against your puffy lips. And he can tell when you’re close how excited you are, the way your pupils blow out, the way you bite down on that lower lip, the one already chapped from likely biting it to death.

“No one has ever called me bratty,” you muse softly. “The opposite, actually.”

“Well maybe they don’t see it buried all in there, under a cute little fucking yoga outfit,” he brushes your hair back. His mistake, his undoing, and not kissing you is maybe the hardest thing he’s done.

You’re married.

He’s trying to give a fuck about that.

“C’mon brat,” you giggle again. “Here is the ring.”

You pause, looking at the huge rectangular boxing ring, surrounded by mats, boxing bags hanging heavy and worn all over, red and black ropes surrounding it. “Is this where you all practice?”

“Mhm,” he leads you over to a bag, touching it, old and black and hanging, one of his big hands touching it now. “Tomorrow you’ll punch it, today you didn’t eat so you don’t get to.”

“Mean,” your lips twitch though, the color to your face just brighter, your eyes glittering. Fuck you’re pretty sad, and happy, he can only imagine more. “All right, I promise, full breakfast.”

“Eat some dinner, too, then I’ll let you kick it.”

“The bag?”

“No, me.”

“What!?” You laugh again, Sukuna snorts and rolls his ruby red eyes, those pink lashes fluttering. “You’re joking, oh!”

“Yeah, a joke,” he tugs on that pony tail your hair is thrown in. “Two pm, don’t be late.”

When you’re gone he’s locking up, watching you slip into some bmw, waving a bit before you back up, wondering what’s this feeling in his heart, in his gut.

Sukuna loves women, he loves being inside them, pleasuring them, but he’s never just enjoyed making someone smile that much. Knowing you’re married should be a hell of a deterrent, whether he’s clearly a dick or not, Sukuna can’t just swoop in and be with married women.

Right?

Yet when he’s in bed that night, he finds himself throbbing, thinking of seeing your pretty face in pleasure. And he knows damn well whatever ‘morals’ he should have about it aren’t going to help him not make you feel good, in just any fucking way you need him to.

*****

You

“Never seen you eat so much,” Satoru murmurs when he walks in, lipstick across his neck, you’re downing some soup, realizing just how starved you were. “Have the chefs make something.”

“I just haven’t eaten in a week,” you say softly, Satoru’s eyes widen, then narrow a bit, while you dab at your mouth with a napkin. “I guess I’m hungry.”

“A week? What nothing here good, they can order anything.”

“I was too depressed,” the honesty is something you’d usually hold in, but something about meeting Sukuna today…

Everything about him.

The way he looked at you, that smirk was teasing, not cruel – he listened to you, he seemed to care, him a stranger. You know it’s nonsense, a man trying to be kind to a crying woman, but it meant a lot, even if that’s all it was. You’d walked in with a smile you haven’t had since you married him.

Satoru Gojo.

“A week? You can die from that shit,” he glares now, and you laugh, but this time it’s a mean little sound. “You think you can’t?”

“Sure, but what would you care?” You take a sip of the wine you’d poured, Satoru’s finest vintage, letting it dance along your tongue. “Wouldn’t it make your life easier if I did?”

His lips part, brows drawing together. “I don’t want you to fucking die, okay? Fuck.”

“You wouldn’t care,” you swirl the wine around, leaning back in the seat, eyes locked with the man you’ve tried so hard to make like you. To just come near you, to give you a chance. “I’m nothing to you.”

He says nothing in the quiet of the dining room.

“You didn’t notice.”

“Well, no I don’t eye your every move, figured you eat before I get home or some shit,” he runs a hand through his silky white locks, eyeing you carefully. “Do you want them to order something specific? Just because me and you will never be anything, doesn’t mean I want you to starve in my fucking house.”

“Nah, I like everything they have here,” you finish the wine in a gulp, an unladylike one that makes Satoru raise his brows, standing then, sighing. “It’s hard to eat when you can’t stop crying, when you constantly feel sick to your stomach knowing the man you live with hates your existence.”

You walk up and he says your name, you pause and look back at him. “I never said don’t eat, yeah?”

“No, you didn’t. But her lipstick is all over your neck, and up on that collar,” he touches it then, looking at the crimson on his pale fingertips. You step up to him, so close you inhale that scent. “Can you buy your sluts some decent fucking perfume, aren’t you rich?”

“What the fuck!?” You smile, you’ve never cussed, but it feels amazing in that moment, seeing him sputter. “What are you going on about, and what’s got your ass so fucking peppy?”

“Their knock off perfume, it’s all over you, every night. Buy them some Chanel or something, yeah? Not like you have to buy me anything, I have my own money. The scent makes me nauseous,” you turn again, Satoru grips your wrist, making you pause for just a moment, shutting your eyes.

Nothing, he feels nothing.

“Thought you didn’t cuss?”

“You don’t know me and you don’t want to.”

He lets you go, no argument, just quiet.

“I’m starting training at the gym,” you mention quietly. “I’ll be going there tomorrow.”

“Some yoga class?”

“Boxing.”

Satoru blinks, you just smile, tugging your wrist out of his grip. “You? Boxing?”

“Mhm, good night Gojo.”

You head up the stairs to your room, falling back on the bed, shutting your eyes, feeling good for the first time since that engagement party, for the first time in months there was something brimming under the surface. Some sort of hope.

Tonight you don’t hear him moaning, or talking to his girls, it’s quiet, and you’re thankful, shutting your eyes and falling into a deep sleep.

You’re haunted by two sets of eyes, two sets of hands, blue ones that are glaring, red ones that are hungry, long thin fingers choking your neck, suffocating you, thick ones painted black freeing you. Torn between them, claustrophobic in the darkness, where all you can see are their eyes. 

You wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, holding your racing heart, thrumming against your palm, before you fall back asleep, and there is only one pair of eyes.

And they’re red.

Tysm AGAIN for 30k my loves <3 this will be a doozy

[Name] focused back on her task which was tending to her beautiful flowers in the school’s garden.  Her eyes observed the red rose bush that was blooming in such a pleasing way. It made her heart flutter in excitement seeing the hard work she put in achieving greatness. 

And this was made with her blessed energy, she was happy for that. Hopefully the experiments to add flower leaves in her tea will help her wounds instead of outright using her blessed energy. It was less consuming and a better idea. 

“Say, [Name], you do realize that your hand is up for marriage. Why are you here pretending that everything is okay while the old geezers discuss your future?” 

[Name] dragged her index fingers on the thorns of the roses with a quiet hum. She pulled back from the bush and sighed, “Why worry about who I’m going to marry, Sho? It’s not up to you or I to decide. Therefore, there is no reason to dwell on it.”

Shoko rolled her eyes and sat down on the bench across from [Name], who was crouched down in the dirt. Her friend was too gentle when it came to her future. Shoko wanted a genuine reaction from [Name], not the usual relaxed responses. 

“And what if you are sent to the Zen’ins? Or married to a really old man who wants you as a breeding machine?  Will you not protest then?” 

[Name] set her pruners down next to a pile of ruined roses. The [e.color] eyed female replied with a light chuckle, “At that point, I think I’ll just jump off a bridge.” 

“That’s really cruel,  [Name]-Sensei.” 

The woman looked away from her rose bushes and standing in the early morning sun was her favorite first year student, Megumi Fushiguro. Granted, he was the only first year student currently. He was dressed in his school uniform, it really seemed to be the only clothing he wore these days. 

“Megumi, please ignore what I said. I was only jesting with an old friend of mine. I wouldn’t jump off a bridge.” 

“I would,” Shoko replied dryly to which [Name] lightly glared at her friend. 

“Anyways,” [Name] picked up the dead roses and stood up to her full height, “whoever my husband will be, will be. I only hope he provides me with the freedom to take care of the garden.” 

Shoko slid to the edge of the bench and rested her elbow on the arm rest. “If he doesn’t provide you a garden, divorce him.”

[Name] laughed and sat down next to her friend and patted the empty seat next to her for Megumi. “If only divorce was that easy, Sho. Also I believe divorce isn’t an option for me either. I can only imagine the mistresses my future husband can have while I’m stuck with his old ass.” 

“Finally, I get a true reaction from you.” Shoko tosses her cigarette in the trash bin as well as the ruined roses in [Name]’s hands. 

“You do make me curious as to who my husband will be.” [Name] stifled a laugh with her clean hands, she looked at Shoko then Megumi. Then she looked back at her luscious garden, “Apparently Satoru is a candidate for my hand. Imagine us being married.” 

Megumi cleared his throat and said, “I would rather you be married to Gojo-sensei than someone cruel.” 

“I second that.” Shoko tilted her head back and looked at the clouds high above them, “you’re too good for the others. But for Satoru, you two are a perfect match.” 

“I hate to disturb the peace, but [Name] you are being called forth to a meeting with the elders.” Principal Yaga stepped in the garden entrance. The contact between his shoes and the smooth pebbled path crunched under his weight. 

[Name] pushed herself off the bench and looked at her best friend and amazing student with a graceful smile on her face. “The next time you guys see me, I’ll have a ring on my finger.” She walked to Principal Yaga and stopped at the entrance. She kept her eyes forward, her hands finding their way into the pockets of her long skirt,  “No matter who I am to marry, please know that I will remain happy. This, I promise to you both.” 

Shoko nor Megumi had time to respond as [Name] teleported herself to the meeting. Her technique was like Gojo’s but she left a puddle of various flower petals in her wake.  

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Everybody could feel her presence when she arrived. It was refreshing, calming and damn near intoxicating. This was the way her blessed energy worked on people in her vicinity. 

The servants immediately ran to her side and were amazed to see how clean she was. They heard many stories of the maiden caring for a garden, yet she remained spotless. Not a single speck of dirt on her or her clothing. 

“Well then, are you to dress me properly?” [Name] asked the servant girls with her soft voice and the four of them nodded their heads leading the way to her changing room. She followed their calculated steps into a room where her furisode kimono awaited her. It was so beautiful and fitting for a woman like herself. 

The background was black, the spiral lines were gold, the flower shapes were a deep red and there were light shades of pink and white in them. “Miss, today is so different from traditions,” One servant spoke as she undressed [Name] from her casual wear. 

“Oh, and why is that?” [Name] asked. 

The second servant spoke up and said quietly, “Because everyone wants your hand, miss. None of them could agree on who should marry you.” 

“It’s not odd to hear the Elders argue amongst themselves, is it?” [Name] questioned and walked up to the other two servants who helped her with putting the kimono on. 

“Well this time, they all agreed for you to choose one of them.” The third servant brushed [Name]’s hair back. 

“But to make it even for all the candidates, you get to choose an item they offered to you. You don’t know who picked out what for you.” The fourth servant girl quietly said. 

This left [Name] to wonder. What kind of things did these old men offer for her hand. As she was lost in thought, the servant worked on doing her makeup and hair. They styled it perfectly and her makeup was too. They observed the calm expression on her face and said, “It’s time to go, miss.” 

[Name] looked in the mirror and was surprised to see how well they did. “Thank you for giving me a heads up on what this meeting is. It’s a choosing ceremony and I have the freedom to pick my husband based on their gifts to me.”

“Of course, miss.” 

They led her to an entrance and the double doors opened up for her. The room was dark with marriage candidates hiding behind shades. There was a table with six gifts presented in the light and she slowly walked up to it with a lump in her throat. 

This was the moment and she was terrified. Although she kept a calm composure. She didn’t want to display weakness in front of the wolves.

“Welcome, [L.Name] [Name]. In front of you are marriage proposals from the families interested in having your hand. Please examine them and choose the gift you appreciate the most.” 

[Name] heard the speaker clearly despite his nasally voice and she walked closer to the table. There was a necklace of gold, a red ribbon, a silver bracelet, a block of smooth wood, a gold coin, and a pile of dirt. 

“A pile of dirt?” [Name] whispered and looked closely at it. The soil looked very well nourished and it all felt too familiar to her. 

“Do you have an answer, [L.Name]?”

[Name] looked away from the dirt and sheepishly said, “Please give me another moment. I’m sure you don’t want to pressure me to make the wrong choice.” She was met with silence and she went back to examining her gifts. 

They were unique as some would say. Yet the pile of dirt was sticking out to her the most. Did this man know she had a love for gardening? If so, this man would be the perfect match for her. [Name] lifted her head up and placed her hands in front of her. 

She said with confidence, “I accept the pile of dirt.” 

The room broke into an outrage as they argued with her choice. “What makes you want the pile of dirt out of the gold necklace?” 

“Or the silver bracelet?” 

“Choose again! The pile of dirt serves no-” 

[Name] backed away from the table in shock to their untamed anger. She was glad to say that the three that spoke up were not chosen. Then from the corner of her eye on the left, she spotted a tall man peering from the shades. 

A giant smile was on his face and he walked up towards her. “Sa…Satoru? You are the one?” [Name] shyly asked, a blush fanning across her face. 

“Yup!” He happily said, popping the ‘p’. He draped an arm around her shoulder and leaned down to her face. His nose brushed against her own, “I knew that the dirt would appeal to you, earth-worm.”

“Please, don’t call me that in front of them,” [Name]’s eyes gazed over to the quiet, but angry elders. Gojo hummed and straightened out his back with an annoyed sigh. “You guys were the ones who decided on a choosing ceremony. Let’s not forget how it works. When a proposal gift is accepted, there is no redo.” 

Gojo began leading [Name] away from the group of men and she looked back at them wearily. Their eyes are full of jealousy and rage. “Satoru, it’s impolite to leave without a goodbye.” 

Gojo tilted his head down to look at her with his dark glasses, “Eh~ They’ll get over it in no time. Now come on, Megumi has a mission soon and I want to surprise him with our announcement.” 

“Sorry, Satoru, but I don’t like the smile on your face. You have an icky plan devised, don’t you?” [Name] asked, her attention never away from him. 

Gojo smiled and nodded his head, “Ahh~ Not even five minutes into our engagement and you know exactly what’s going on in my head.” 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“Good morning students,” [Name] greeted the second years and Megumi with a straight face that was very hard to muster. Gojo had told her that to make this believable she needed to portray the correct emotions. 

“[Name]-sensei, what’s wrong?” Megumi asked, concerned that the look on her face was devastating. She didn’t think she could keep up with this rude prank on her students. But the thumbs up she got from Gojo hiding in her rose bush behind them kept her going. 

“You all heard about my…, how do I say this?” [Name] faltered and cleared her throat, “I am engaged now and to whom you might ask? Uh…It’s Naoya Zen’in.” The woman sweatdropped at their expressions of gloom. Especially from Maki. 

“You’re kidding.” 

“That sounds terrible, [Name]-sensei.”

“Mustard leaf.”

“Wait, Gojo-sensei didn’t stop this? He said that he would definitely win your hand. He told me that his gift would catch your eye.” Megumi growled out, he was disturbed by the terrible news. 

Maki looked over at Megumi and asked him, “Did Gojo-sensei tell you what he was going to get for her?” 

Megumi shook his head and looked away from his upperclassmen. He mumbled to the side, “A pile of dirt.” 

“A pile of dirt?!” Maki and Panda shouted at the same time, obviously disturbed by Megumi’s answer. 

“Of course that idiot would choose something so stupid! Why would [Name]-sensei go for a pile of dirt?” Maki pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“Aha! That’s where you all are wrong!” Gojo jumped out of the bushes startling his students with his sudden appearance. He stood tall next to [Name] and side hugged her as he explained. 

“What is the one thing your dear teacher loves the most?” Gojo asked his students and they all looked at him with dead expressions on their faces. 

“Wasting our time.”

“Being annoying.” 

“Talking.” 

Gojo deflated in [Name]’s arms and she chuckled, saying to the teens, “I believe he meant to ask what do I love the most?” 

Panda raised his hand and smiled, “That’s an easy one! You love gardening.” 

“Yeah, you always spend your free time here. Also I forgot to mention, Inumaki and I pruned the orange roses yesterday morning.” Maki said leaning on her left foot with her hand placed on her hip. 

“Thank you,” [Name] said kindly and shook the man in her arms, “Satoru, come on, tell them the best part.” 

Gojo inflated and put his hands on his hips and puffed his chest out, “It turns out, [Name] loves dirt more than a gold necklace and a silver bracelet! She ended up choosing my gift!” 

“Wait, so you’re not married to Naoya?” Maki questioned, her eyebrows raised in question. 

[Name] shook her head with a smile on her face, “I am not. Satoru wanted me to say that to see your reactions to the truth. I am sorry for playing you all like that.” She bowed sincerely while Gojo laughed at his students’ faces. 

“And *click* This will be saved in our photo album.” Gojo took a picture of the four and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. “Anyways, you all may call [Name]...Gojo-sensei!” 

“Yeah, no thanks.”

“I’m fine with calling her [Name]-sensei still.”

“You guys aren’t even married yet.” 

“Fish flakes.”

Gojo pouted and slouched over [Name]’s smaller frame. His arms draped over her shoulders and his chin rested on her head. “You guys are no fun! Liven up a little, she’s married to me instead of an old fart!”

“We’re happy for the both of you,” Megumi admitted, shutting his childish teacher up. The black haired male turned around and walked out of the entrance followed by his upperclassman congratulating them. 

The group disappeared and [Name] sighed tiredly, “That went better than I expected.”

“They’re all so rude, where did they learn that from?” Gojo questioned pulling himself off of her. He sat down on the wooden bench and crossed his legs. His eyes were blindfolded, but he was admiring her rose bushes that grew so perfectly. 

“They kinda have your spunk from your teenage years, don’t you think? They’re more aware of danger than you ever were though.” [Name] commented and looked at the orange rose bush that was tended by her thoughtful students. 

It remained beautiful. 

“Satoru, what if I didn’t pick your gift?” [Name] asked and the soil at the orange rose bush caught her attention. She crouched down and examined the base of the flower bed. Some soil was missing like someone just scooped up a handful. 

“I would have waited for you at the bridge you planned to jump off of and convinced you to stay. Selfish of me, I know.” 

[Name] looked up at Gojo in surprise. He was crouching right next to her as he gave her a sly smile. His hand dug into his pocket and he brought out a pile of dirt. “But I don’t want to lose you too.” Gojo placed the misplaced soil back where it belonged and patted it down softly. 

“You took soil from my garden.” [Name] said. 

“I knew you would have chosen the pile of dirt because it's imbued with your cursed energy. It’s why it felt familiar and why you chose it. Not only am I the strongest, but I am the smartest.” 

[Name] suddenly grabbed his dirty hand and pulled him in for an embrace. She buried her face in his neck as she thanked him, “Satoru, thank you. You saved my life.” 

Standing at the side of the stage away from the cameras, you watched the audience unconsciously mimic Todo’s action. It was like everyone was holding their breaths in unison, wide-eyed and secretly hoping whatever description Satoru gave would match up with them. 

Unlike the rest of Domain’s three other members, Satoru was sprawled on the velvet sofa like a lazy cat, as if he was lounging at home with a movie instead of making a guest appearance on the country’s most popular talk show, Boogie Woogie. 

“Easy,” he said without hesitation, but then brought a finger to his lips. “It’s a secret though.”

A collective protest resounded from the audience. Exactly the response you knew Satoru was aiming for. He’d always had a gift for playing the crowd—teasing out whatever reaction he wanted, whenever he wanted. Just another one of his many other talents that read longer than a grocery list.

“C’mon, you can do better than that,” Todo pressed. “There are seventy million fans all around the world dying to know Gojo Satoru’s ideal type. You gonna disappoint them?”

Satoru smiled, wisps of striking, pure white hair fluttering as he tilted his head at Todo, at the audience.

“You know what? Let’s make it a game,” he said, as if the idea had just come to him. You knew for a fact it hadn’t. “It’s called guess-what-kind-of-person-your-favourite-idol-Gojo-Satoru-likes! I’ll give you a hint—it’s one word.”

Nanami Kento, Domain’s main rapper, groaned. “We have precisely fifteen minutes left before the show ends. I’m not playing your stupid game when I already know the answer.”

A round of chuckles echoed through the audience. You nodded in silent approval. Trust Nanami to never stray from his stoic brand while making fans thirst harder by stating a time limit. 

Your gaze darted to Domain’s leader, Geto Suguru, calm as ever as he shook his head. A perfect mirror to Satoru’s chaos. “Listen, Satoru. Can’t you just tell everyone? Yu hasn’t gotten his chance to speak yet.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Satoru crossed his arms like a petulant child. If anyone else were to act that way, they’d only come off as a spoilt brat. Not Satoru. Somehow, for reasons that escaped you, people seemed to be drawn to his brash nature. He was still bratty, outright rude at times, but because it was Gojo Satoru, it was endearing.

You didn’t see the appeal.

“Oooh, can I go first?” Haibara Yu, the youngest member of Domain, raised his hand excitedly. “I kinda wanna know.”

“See, Yu wants to play.” Gojo extended a hand towards the audience. “How bout it, everyone? I’ll make it better. If anyone guesses correctly, I’ll give you a reward.”

He might as well have said he would strip naked right then and there. The audience went wild.

“A reward?” Todo said, feigning curiosity as he rehashed the script you’d approved before agreeing to have Domain appear on the show. “From the world’s most wanted man alive? Now you’ve at least got to tell us what it is.”

Right on cue, Satoru reached for his sunglasses and slid them off. The studio’s harsh light caught every line of his perfectly defined features, soft and sharp in all the right places. You had to admit, he was insanely handsome. You’d thought that the moment you first met him in person. It was why, in addition to being the main vocalist, Satoru was also the face of Domain.

But what made Satoru’s visual truly exceptional, what had stolen millions of hearts worldwide, were his eyes. 

It was as if the gods had held a conclave to discuss how they could sculpt the most perfect looking human being, and decided to make Gojo Satoru. And the cherry on top? They bestowed upon him the most impossible blue eyes that managed to look both intelligent and mischievous all at once. A recipe for devastation. Worst of all, Satoru knew how to wield them. 

You could see the audience practically melt into their seats.

“The reward—” Satoru’s smile turned feline. “Is a kiss from me.” 

He winked at the cameras.

The studio went nuts in the next second. That was when a girl in the audience passed out cold. 

But you were frowning. A nerve at your temple twitched as you glared at Satoru from where you stood.

This wasn’t part of the script. The idiot was improvising. Again. You’d specifically made sure to remind him that under no circumstances was he to do any ad-libbing.

But of course he hadn’t listened. Again.

“Just follow the damn script for once,” you’d repeated a hundred times throughout the day. “No running your mouth. And absolutely no promising your fans anything other than a hug. Understood?”

Satoru had merely replied the same thing each time. “Will you be jealous if I do, kacho-san?” Or some iteration of it, annoying you further.

The last time a fan uploaded a photo of Satoru kissing her on the cheek, the poor girl had received death threats for three months straight. In the end, you had to get Satoru to publicly announce, again, that he wasn’t dating anyone at the moment because he was focusing on his career, and was simply too busy to commit to a relationship.

And here he was, about to add another person to his body count for you to rescue.

Amidst the cacophony of breathless screams, you spotted Domain’s bodyguard, Toji, plucking up the unconscious fan and hauling her over his giant shoulder like a sack of potatoes, then stalking out of the studio.

“Hmmm… someone with a lot of patience?” Yu guessed innocently, launching the game off. 

Your phone buzzed then. It was a message from Shoko.

Press releases ready. Just say the word.

You sent a prayer of thanks to the heavens for having a publicist like Shoko. Five years working with Satoru had taught you to always be ready for damage control. You’d spent the whole of last night on video call with Shoko and Utahime, Domain’s social media manager, preparing various press releases and posts to counter any sort of situation should Satoru open his damn mouth and set his public image on flames like a pyromaniac. 

Gojo Satoru’s brand was built entirely on the idea of him being so perfect he was unattainable. He belonged to everyone and no one at the same time. The epitome of obsession that kept the heart of his vast fandom pounding on overdrive. Always peering down from a pedestal, always out of reach, yet close enough to dare anyone to try.

In short, he was the dream. 

He even had a nickname—The Honoured One.

For the life of you, you couldn’t understand it. What was so honourable about forcing you to drive him down to Sendai twice in a month to buy kikufuku mochi just because he wanted to eat them fresh?

But Domain was Jujutsu Entertainment’s cash cow, and Gojo Satoru was the king of empty bank accounts. He was also the reason you were paid a very, very generous salary.

As such, if there existed any hint that he was embroiled in a relationship with an individual, his whole image would go down the drain. It would become a PR nightmare. Jujutsu Entertainment’s stocks would plummet. Sponsorships would dwindle. Big brands would pull out. Yaga would lose his shit, and then you would be fired. 

All because Gojo Satoru kissed a girl. 

Short of storming up on stage and smacking him in the head—and subsequently getting murdered by fans for it—there was nothing you could do but watch the sea of raised hands, each fighting for a turn at the game, desperate for one measly minute of Satoru’s attention solely focused on them.

But to be fair, Satoru was handling the audience with deft grace. He’d taken over the whole talk show from Todo and had casually walked to the front of the set, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other twirled a finger in the air like a bloody magic wand, picking victim after victim to turn into puddles of mush.

Every time someone made a guess, his answer would satisfy them enough without confirming or denying anything. 

“Ah, that’s kinda cute too. Like you.”

“Nice one. I like what you’ve done with your hair by the way.”

“I never thought of that. I’ll remember what you said.”

“I wouldn’t mind it. Is that me on your keychain? Remember to take me everywhere, ‘kay?”

You checked the time on your watch. Five more minutes until the show ended, and he still hadn’t mentioned a word about Domain’s new single, which was the whole reason they were on Boogie Woogie in the first place.

You were about to signal for Suguru to say something that would cut the game short so they could make the announcement. But when your head snapped up, you found Satoru’s gaze fixed on you, a cheeky grin spread across his glossed-up lips. 

Satoru clapped his hands together. “Thanks for playing with me, everyone. I’ll give you the answer now.” 

His stupid finger swished about, drawing an arc in the air before coming to an abrupt halt in your direction.

And you realised he was pointing straight at you.

“It’s my manager!” he declared, proudly. “My bad, that’s three words and not one. Oh well.”

You froze as the entire studio zoomed in on the forgotten corner where you stood. Heat prickled up your neck, filling your cheeks as every head, every camera, angled towards you. 

“Your ideal type is… your manager?” Todo asked, confused. 

“I said my manager is the answer,” Satoru corrected. “Interpret it however you like.”

You were going to kill him. You were going to pulverise his pretty face the moment you went backstage. Was the moron trying to decimate his career? And yours? 

Think. You had to think. You had three seconds to recall all your media training and come up with a suitable reply that wouldn’t end with either the fans or Yaga roasting your head on a spit. Any longer and they’d be making up crazy theories because of your hesitation.

You forced a light-hearted laugh. “You shouldn’t tease your fans like that, Satoru.” Then you shifted your attention to focus on the cameras. “What Satoru means by me being the answer is because we have something exciting to announce. Domain will be releasing a new single, Limitless, in three weeks! The lyrics are written by none other than Satoru himself, and it’s about dreaming of someone you’ve not yet met. Please look forward to it!”

You bowed to the cameras as the audience squealed in delight, sighing in relief at having successfully spun the conversation away from Satoru’s asinine answer while promoting Domain’s single, effectively killing two birds with one stone. You’d pat yourself on the back later. 

Satoru’s eyes were still on you when you straightened. He tapped his chin. “Oh, right. The single… I forgot. But that wasn’t what I meant when—” 

“Aaaaaand that’s all the time we have left for today’s Boogie Woogie!” Todo’s voice boomed. “Please give a big round of applause to Domain!”

“And my lovely manager!” Satoru added loudly, waving out a hand towards you with a wink, and your chest twisted involuntarily.

You tried your best not to scowl at him on live television. The cameras finally panned away to all four members of Domain as they took their bows and went through the customary farewell motions. 

Your phone buzzed. It was a message from Shoko.

That’s the fifth public confession. Time to pay up, kacho-san.At this rate, you should have your own press release.

You didn’t reply. You were too busy wondering how it was a miracle you hadn’t yet died from a heart attack, courtesy of Gojo Satoru. 

After the show, the boys refused to let you go home, dragging you to their favourite upscale karaoke bar in Ginza where Suguru had a private room reserved. 

Dressed in baggy pants and hoodies, the four members of Domain were acting like a group of hyped up nepo babies with a vendetta to blow through their allowances in a single night. You, in contrast, were still in your pantsuit and looked like their grumpy, overworked nanny. 

Yu had successfully roped Nanami into belting out the female part of a duet while Suguru hogged the playlist, cueing song after song without bothering to consult anyone. You were glued to your phone, catching up on e-mails and going through Domain’s schedule for the upcoming week when you felt a pressure on the cushioned bench, and then someone sliding in next to you. 

You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. 

“Come on, you’re not still mad at me are you?” Satoru’s arm pressed against yours as he leaned in, entirely ignorant to the concept of personal space.

It was…distracting, to say the least. You’d rather not think about how good he smelled.

Not so recently, Satoru had taken to always insisting he was placed next to you—in meetings, at restaurants, on plane rides, in the car, walking to the car. Even when it came to hotels, he would request for his room to be next to yours, with a connecting door so he could hang out in your room until you shooed him out to sleep.

“Don’t forget you have that underwear shoot in two days,” you replied, refusing to engage in any conversation with him other than work. “I’ve booked you a facial tomorrow, and a training session in the morning with Sukuna. Make sure you’re there on time.”

His finger touched the top of your phone, pushing it down and away from your face. 

“Do you ever stop working, kacho-san?” he chided, strobe lights glinting off his eyes. “Look at you. Your shoulders are so stiff they might turn to stone.” A corner of his lips curved up. “Want me to give you a massage?”

It was too dark for him to see the flush on your cheeks, but you knew he knew. The nerve at your temple twitched again. 

“Thanks but no thanks,” you said, trying your best to sound unaffected. 

“I assure you I’m very good with my hands. But you already know that.”

“You’re being extra annoying today. Stop it.”

“Really?” His face dipped, inches away from yours. “That’s not what you called me last night.”

Your nerve snapped. “Do. NOT. Speak about that.”

Satoru’s smile only widened. “About what, sweetheart?”

You wanted to dissolve into the bench. 

Throughout your life, you had always been the type of person who could spot a mistake from a mile away, allowing you to avoid it like the plague. You were a safe player. A perfectionist. The kind of person who planned your calendar down to the minute. Someone who loved routine, because adhering to a strict schedule meant less chances of coming across any unwanted surprises. Your inherent traits were what made you an excellent manager, and part of why Domain had skyrocketed to worldwide fame in less than three years since their debut. 

But what you hadn’t accounted for—the one mistake you overlooked that would go on to become the bane of your existence—was Gojo Satoru taking an interest in you, and that the damn thing inside your chest was unable to help itself but beat a little faster whenever he was around you.

It started with a cup of coffee. The free kind, dispensed into a paper cup from the staff machine at Jujutsu Entertainment, which he’d casually handed to you—black, no sugar—while he sipped his own heavily sweetened one. 

Next came the notes, a different one each time, scrawled with a felt tip on the side of the paper cups.

Blue suits you.

Wanna go to Sendai?

So cranky today. Still beautiful.

You know what tastes better than this coffee? Me.

You’d ignored them at first, thinking it was nothing but Satoru being Satoru. He’d always been a blatant flirt, spewing out his particular brand of nonsense to both fans and, really, anyone with a head and a set of lungs.

And it didn’t help that the world loved him for it, as evidence of the truckloads of fanmail flooding the company that they had to dedicate another mailroom solely for Domain.

On the days Satoru came into the company, it was like the air in the building charged up with barely contained excitement. The trainees would flock around him. Half the female office staff would take turns going to the bathroom in hopes of running into him, and the other half would be camped out at the coffee machine. Interns would fight over who got to serve water at his meetings. Someone once told you how lucky you were that you got to spend all day with him.

You almost threw your coffee in their face.

You? Lucky? Wasn’t it him who was lucky to have you as a manager? The guy was a walking PR hazard. He did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, with no regard to his image whatsoever, leaving you to run after him putting out anything he set on fire. On a daily basis.

Who did he think you were? The fucking fire brigade?

But it was your job, so you’d taken it all in stride. Managing a reckless brat with a fame level as high as Mount Everest took serious skill and planning, and you’d seen it as the ultimate challenge. In fact, you’d thrived on it. 

Then the idiot had to go and ruin it all by asking you out.

You’d rejected him, of course. But that hadn’t stopped him. In fact, it only made him try harder.

And last night…damn you to hell, he’d finally succeeded. Somewhat.

This was why you hated dinner meetings. But the client was one of Satoru’s biggest sponsors, and despite Satoru insisting he drink most of what they plied you with, your tolerance for alcohol was still abysmal. You’d woken up the next morning in his bed, wearing his t-shirt, with a massive headache, and the embarrassing memory of you lunging at him for a kiss before everything became a blank slate.

“Look,” you said firmly. “Last night was a mistake. I was drunk. I might’ve done some things I shouldn’t have. Let’s just forget it, alright?”

Satoru raised a brow. “But I can’t forget it.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” you snapped. “It’s never happening again.”

“I can’t because you made me promise not to.”

You gaped at him. “I did not!”

Satoru merely shrugged, then slipped out a pair of earbuds from his pocket and gently plugged them in your ears, the noise cancelling function muffling out the karaoke music. He unlocked his phone, swiped a few times, and then you heard it—your voice, whiny and breathless…

“Ngh—Toru—don’t stop…”

“I don’t want to. But I know you, kacho-san. You’ll regret this.”

“No I won’t—“

“I mean you’ll regret recording this. Not me, of course.”

“But I don’t want you forgetting what you said.”

“Trust me, I don’t need it to remember.”

“Say it to me again.”

“You know, you’re very demanding whenever you drink. It’s adorable.”

“Go on. Say it.”

A low chuckle. “I’ll tell as you many times as you want, sweetheart… I, Gojo Satoru, belong to my very hardworking, very beautiful manager.”

“Don’t you dare delete this.“

“If it makes you happy, I promise.”

“Good. Now come here…”

You stared at him, mortified, and yanked the earbuds out, chucking it back at him. You stood abruptly, and made a bee-line for the door. 

“Where are you going, kacho-san?” Suguru called out.

“I’m—ah…I’m not feeling well.”

He must have seen the expression on your face because his eyes narrowed at Satoru. “Did you do something again? I thought I told you to treat our precious manager better.”

Satoru snorted. “I treat her exactly how she likes it. Not that it’s any of your business, Suguru.”

“Satoru, we’ve gone through this a hundred times. If you don’t want a new manager, you should learn to control your mouth.”

You didn’t stay to hear Satoru’s reply, and was out the door before anyone could offer to take you home, practically running in front of the first available cab you saw. 

Your mind was reeling throughout the entire ride home, your palms sticky with sweat despite the air conditioner in the car turned on full blast. All you could think about was that recording. What he’d said. What you’d made him say.

And that you didn’t completely hate it.

“Yes! Just like that… hold that position, Satoru.“ A series of blinding flashes erupted as the photographer clicked away at his camera. “Love that expression, you’re a natural!”

You had your arms crossed like a protective shield as you stood with the rest of the crew, trying your best not to stare at Satoru’s perfectly sculpted abs. That lean, muscular torso. His broad shoulders, and that ridiculous jawline, angled in a way that could cut through glass. Or more importantly, someone’s wallet.

They had him shirtless for the photoshoot, wearing nothing but a simple, grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips, the band of his black briefs peeking over the top. But it wasn’t men’s underwear Satoru was selling. 

It was women’s.

The brand had renewed their contract with him a second time at a sickeningly inflated rate compared to what they had paid initially. All so they could have the license to slap the words ‘Property of Gojo Satoru’ on their new lingerie line. Their first release had profited them a bajillion-fold, selling out instantly in every colour. They had to restock thrice to prevent customers from rioting in their stores after Satoru not-so-accidentally held one of their panties up during a livestream. 

The blue one, in particular, was on auction online for twenty times the retail price.

So it was no wonder they had practically thrown the cash at Jujutsu Entertainment when Satoru agreed to model for them again.

But you had to be present to make sure they didn’t over-sexualise him. That they wouldn’t ruin the image you’d meticulously constructed over five years with your blood, sweat and sheer grit. Satoru wasn’t a porn star, he was a fantasy. He was the fine line between charming prince and devastating sex god, and it was up to you to maintain that precarious balance. 

Which was why you absolutely, one thousand percent could not be involved in anything with him other than a business relationship. You, the curator and backbone and engine that kept Domain’s shiny image propelling forward, could not risk their careers and yours over a dumb fling with Gojo Satoru.

No matter how much you wanted to tear those sweatpants off him.

No matter that he had a pair of panties hanging from his mouth, eyes heavy-lidded as he ran a hand through his hair, the other crooking a finger at the camera. 

And then those eyes slid over to land on yours.

A tiny smirk formed on Satoru’s lips. Your throat dried out as he let the panties fall, gaze still fixed on you, and licked his bottom lip. 

Was he seriously thirst trapping you while posing as a thirst trap? How shameless could one man be?

“That’s the money shot right there!” The way the photographer was snapping away at the camera button, you’d think he was playing an FPS game and Satoru was the target. “It’s going to be hard choosing which ones make the cut. The camera’s in love with you, Satoru.”

Of course it was. 

Satoru smiled. “Since you have so many good shots, do you mind if I take a short break? There’s something I need to discuss with my manager.”

You stiffened.

“No, no, of course not. Go right ahead. I’ll send makeup to you for a touch up in twenty minutes.”

Satoru nodded and stalked off towards the dressing room, leaving you no choice but to follow.

You hadn’t spoken a word about that incriminating recording to him all day. Not when you picked him up from his home. Not during the car ride. Not while you ran through his schedule for the day, and certainly not when he purposely leaned across you to reach for a water bottle, knee brushing against yours.

And thankfully, he hadn’t brought it up.

“After you, sweetheart,” Satoru said as he opened the door to the dressing room, standing aside for you to pass through first, half-naked, the sweatpants they’d deliberately had him wear two sizes up slipping further down his hips.

“Stop calling me that,” you muttered.

“Why not? There’s no one listening. And you like it.”

You refused to take his bait. “So, what did you want to discuss?”

“Nothing much,” he said, locking the door behind him. “I just wanted to be alone with you.”

Heat fluttered low in your stomach. You made yourself focus on him from the neck up, though it didn’t help much when you saw how he was looking at you, like he was one accidental brush away from pinning you to the door.

Or maybe that was what you wanted.

You cleared your throat, stepping away to put some distance between the both of you… because you didn’t think you could handle being this close to him without losing it yourself. 

“Well, I just received an offer for you to play one of the leads in a movie,” you said, reverting to the familiar comfort of work talk. “It’s a good role, with a respectable director. I read the script last night.”

Satoru leaned against the door, studying you for a moment. “What kind movie?”

“Fantasy romance. It’s a popular genre. You’ll play the main love interest.”

“Nah. Not interested.”

“But you haven’t even read it yet,” you protested. “It’s a good fit for your brand, and we’ve been talking about you potentially breaking into acting.“

“Like I said, not interested.”

“You’re being difficult. At least read the script before you decide any—“

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

You frowned. “As if you’re not going to tell me anyway.”

Satoru pushed off the door and closed the gap between the both of you in a single stride. 

“I don’t want to play it,” he said, voice low and soft, “because I don’t want to kiss anyone but you.”

Your legs threatened to give out in that moment. You blinked up at him, not unaware that he hadn’t yet put on a shirt. “Satoru… please don’t say stuff like that.”

He was too close. His hand lifted to cup your cheek, and for the life of you, you couldn’t seem to pull away.

“Then should I say I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night? That I’ve thought about you for far longer than you can imagine?” His thumb grazed your lips. “That one night doesn’t even begin to cover all the things I’ve thought about doing to you.”

You forgot how to breathe. 

“I—we can’t…” you managed to say, but there was no resolve in your tone. “This isn’t right…”

But his arm was winding around your waist, pressing you against his bare chest. His head lowered. “Tell me to stop then,” he murmured, lips brushing ever so slightly against yours. A question. A dare.

Your heart betrayed you in that moment. All common sense left you as your mouth collided with his, parting instantly like it had been starving for him this whole time and couldn’t bear another second of waiting. 

Satoru’s tongue swept in, tangling with yours, and you lost your mind to the taste of him. Your hands were sliding up his back, his neck, diving into his hair, feeling him over and over again as if trying to grasp that this was really happening. That you weren’t drunk this time, that you felt everything, and this wasn’t just another one of the many wet dreams you’ve had of him after touching yourself on lonelier nights.

The way he moved inside you was as if he was memorising every part of your mouth. His hands were clutching your ass, pressing your hips tighter against his, and you felt him—the hard, straining length of him—digging into your aching centre through the fabric of both your clothes.

It undid something in you.

Before you knew it, you were backing him up against the wall, the kisses growing frantic and messier and breathless the more both you and him couldn’t stop touching each other. 

A sudden knocking jolted your senses. You broke away from him, head snapping towards the door.

“Gojo-san,” a muffled voice called from outside the dressing room. “Are you ready for your touch up?”

“Ignore it,” said Satoru, catching your chin between his fingers and pulling your attention back to him. “Five more minutes. I’ll say I fell asleep.”

But the spell had broken, reality crashing back around you in full force. Dread filled you as you realised what you’d just done with him. Again. 

Fuck. 

You pushed away from him, stumbling a little as you tried to compose yourself. Your blazer was falling off your shoulders, your blouse untucked, your lips still stinging. And Satoru—

His mouth was covered with pale red smudges from your lipstick. His hair was a mess. That damn sweatpants had ridden down all the way to expose the insanely large bulge crammed underneath his tight, fitted briefs. 

“I—“ you rasped, voice hoarse. “They know I’m in here—”

“So I’ll say I was hugging you and you couldn’t move.“

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Go out with me, kacho-san.”

You stared at him. “The hell, Satoru. Now’s not the time for this.”

“Is that a yes?”

“No. Absolutely not. This is just—we are not—“

“Come over to my place then,” he said. He hadn’t bothered coming off the wall you’d pinned him against. “Tonight. You can show me the movie script.”

Unbelievable. He was unbelievable.

Another series of knocks on the door. “Gojo-san? Are you there?”

“Fine. Whatever.” You gave up and hurried to make yourself presentable. “Just go wipe your face already.”

Satoru grinned. “But I think I look great like this.”

“God, just shut up. And pull up your pants.”

A heavenly aroma smacked you in the face as the elevator doors opened to the private foyer of Satoru’s penthouse. You removed your sneakers and let your nose guide you to the source that was making your mouth water. 

It wasn’t your first time in Satoru’s home. It wasn’t even your second time. In fact, you’d been here so many times you knew where he kept his car keys, though he never drove, preferring to be chauffeured around by the company driver, or Toji, or you. Like a spoilt little princess.

Mostly, you’d come here to haul his tardy ass out of bed.

Satoru always had a problem with time management. Sick of making excuses for him being late to appointments, you took it upon yourself to arrive at his place an hour before anything important to rush him out the door. You did it so often that a couple of years back, Satoru had given you a keycard to his apartment, stating that he was tired of hearing some angry woman shout at him through the intercom, and that the least you could do is let yourself in and berate him in person.

It didn’t make much sense. Then again, most things didn’t make sense when it came to Satoru.

But no matter how late you stayed at his, whether it was a song writing session with the group or discussing contracts with him alone, you’d always gone home after you were done.

Until that night. 

That one stupid night you couldn’t fully remember, and apparently, was stupid enough to record. And from what you’d heard, it certainly sounded like you did a lot more than kiss him.

“There’s my gorgeous manager.” Satoru’s eyes lit up when you walked into the sprawling, open-plan living space. He was behind the kitchen island, the marble as glossy as his stark white hair. “I can’t decide if you’re more stunning in work clothes or like this, so I’m gonna go with both.”

You were in a ratty old sweater and jeans. Next to him, immaculately casual in a crisp white tee and loose slacks, you looked like you had crawled out of a dumpster. But at least he was fully clothed. For some unknown reason, you were half convinced he was going to greet you in his underwear. 

“Is that—“ You glanced at the collection of mixing bowls cluttered alongside bags of flour and sugar. An electric mixer stood at one side, globs of dark brown batter dripping from its whisks. “You’re baking a cake?”

“Not just any cake,” he said. “It’s Gojo Satoru’s super special delicious chocolate cake for his super special delicious manager! Once you’ve had it, you’ll never want any other.”

“I didn’t know you like to bake.”

“Well, I’ve never tried until now.”

“Then don’t say it like you’ve made it a hundred times.”

He shrugged. “I know you like chocolate, and I know you like cake. And I know you’ll like this one, because you’ll think of me while eating it.”

“I will if it tastes like bullshit.”

“Oh, we both know I taste far better than any dessert. And so do you, by the way.” Satoru smiled “In fact, I think you’ve ruined my tongue for anything else.”

There was a streak of chocolate batter across his left cheek, and the effect was… you were suddenly glad there was three feet of marble separating you from him.

You crossed your arms. “Must you say stuff like that? If you spent half your brain space focused on actual work instead of constantly spouting nonsense at me, you’d have twice as many sponsors and be twice as famous right now.”

Satoru waved a hand flippantly. “I’m famous enough. I don’t need more.”

“You’re an idol, Satoru,” you pointed out. “How many more years do you think your name will last in the spotlight? Another five? Ten if you’re lucky? Someone younger, fresher—better maybe—will eventually take your place. If you don’t start branching out into other industries, you’ll be left behind. Then what?”

“Then maybe you’ll finally go on that date with me.”

“This is getting ridiculous.”

“You’re right,” he said, swiping up some batter with his finger, and then licking it. Your gaze couldn’t help but drop to his mouth. To the way his tongue lapped up the chocolate as his eyes stayed on you. “I don’t really want to wait ten years for you to say yes. I don’t even want to wait one more second.”

“Satoru, I’m your manager.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of hard to miss. Also, I heard there’s this popular cafe in Daikanyama that has really good parfaits—”

“I am not going to a cafe with you in broad daylight.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you. In fact, some might say I’m quite the arm candy.“

“Your face is plastered on half the billboards in Tokyo. Do you want a scandal?”

Satoru grinned. “So you do want to go out with me.”

Your patience frayed. “The answer’s no, Satoru.”

“No as in not right now, or no as in you want to go out with me but don’t want the waitress poisoning your parfait?”

“Look, if you want to have a fling, there are a million people waiting in line who will happily jump into bed with you. Just pick one of them and be quiet about it. Preferably another idol or actress who won’t immediately sell you out to the gossip rags.”

You caught the slight falter in his smile, there and gone in half a beat before he was rounding the island over to where you stood. 

“Oh, I know exactly who I want in my bed, sweetheart,” he said, stopping just shy of his broad frame towering over you. “And once I get her in my bed again, I can promise you this time I plan on doing everything I can so she’ll want to stay there.”

Your voice caught in your throat. You should walk away. Get the hell out before your heart stopped beating altogether. Before you did something you knew you’d regret. But your legs couldn’t remember how to move. 

Ding! The oven’s timer rang. 

“Ah, cake’s ready,” he said, so casually as if he hadn’t detonated a nuclear bomb in your chest. “It’ll need some time to cool down though.” A knowing glint danced in his sky blue eyes. “You brought that script, right? I’ll read it while we wait. Then I’ll put the icing on top and blow your mind away.”

The cake was divine. Rich and smooth and moist. Pure indulgence with every bite, just like the smile playing on Satoru’s lips as he watched you scarf your slice down in five minutes, then helped yourself to another. 

“Told you, didn’t I?” He was propped at the edge of the bar stool next to you, half standing half leaning as his gaze tracked each movement of your fork to your mouth. He slid a mixing bowl with leftover frosting towards you. “Have the rest. It’s your favourite part, right?”

You mumbled back something unintelligent. He knew you too well. 

Trust Satoru to make a professional level cake on his first try. What couldn’t he do? And it was more annoying how effortless he made it seem. As an idol, he was the whole package—jaw-droppingly handsome, with a voice that was unique to him yet appealed to the masses, a great dancer, and oozing charisma out of every single non-existent pore that all he had to do was smize those pretty eyes for a whole stadium to start salivating. 

Anything Satoru touched was guaranteed to be an instant success, which was why there was a never-ending line of sponsors banging down his door for a chance to work with him. It was also why Yaga, Jujutsu Entertainment’s CEO, let him do whatever he pleased, from writing his own songs to picking his own contracts. Satoru was the company’s pride and joy, its bread and butter, its stock broker, its reputation, all wrapped up in one stupidly good looking man. 

And it was your job to ensure nothing, absolutely nothing, tarnished his pristine image. No big deal. Except that Satoru was hell bent on making you the very threat to Jujutsu Entertainment’s most valuable asset.

“What do you think of the script?” you asked, steering the conversation back to work. “The character they want you to play has a lot of depth. You won’t be some simpering fool chasing after the heroine. You’ll have just as many scenes as her. It’s a perfect role for you to break into the big screens, and I heard the actress they’re after for the heroine specifically requested for you to be her co-star. Said she’ll sign the contract immediately if you agree to do the movie.”

“Mmm… the story isn’t bad.” Satoru flipped through the pages. He’d spent the last hour skimming through the script while he assembled the cake. Apparently, the gods thought it best to cram a photographic memory into the already abundant arsenal of gifts bestowed upon him. “But there are a few problems with some of the scenes.”

“Really? Where?”

He tapped at the page he’d stopped at, and leaned in as he brought the script closer for you to read. You tried not to think of how good he smelled, his warmth radiating on your skin, and channeled all your concentration on the tiny black words. 

You read the part he flagged. Then read it again. “I can’t see anything wrong with it.” 

“Can’t or don’t?”

“I don’t understand—“

“The line,” said Satoru. “Specifically this line. There’s a problem with it.”

“Reads fine to me. I’m sure you can pull off the emotions. Rehearsing it with your co-star will help.”

“That’s the problem. I don’t want to say it.”

“What do you mean you—”

“I’m not going to tell some random girl I’ll die for her when I obviously won’t.”

“She’s your love interest.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Are we reading the same script here? Or are you just being dense?”

Satoru thumbed through the pages to another scene. “And here. This shower scene—it’s shit. As if I’m going to let anyone but you touch me like that.”

You blinked at him, momentarily stupefied. “Are you kidding me? It’s called acting for a reason.”

“I don’t feel like getting wet with a stranger.”

“Stop calling your co-star a stranger. It’s supposed to be romantic.”

“Nah. Not gonna do it. Tell them to switch me with another character.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Then they can scratch the whole scene. Plus all those sappy lines.”

“The fuck, Satoru. It’s not even real!”

“Exactly. I don’t want to pretend.” Satoru tilted his head slightly, leaning closer to you. His gaze softened. “I don’t want to do those things with someone else and pretend it’s you.”

The fork you were holding slipped, clattering on the porcelain plate. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. You’d heard him, loud and clear, and though your insides were twisted into knots, your brain couldn’t fully comprehend the gravity of the words that slid so easily out of his mouth. 

“I—please, Satoru… don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“Don’t make what harder, sweetheart?” He reached for you, hand sliding up your neck to cup the back of your head. His thumb traced your jaw with feather light strokes. “That I want you and only you? That you might possibly want me too?”

“We work together. We can’t—“

“We already are.”

“It’s a bad idea.” But your reply only came out hollow.

“I’ll show you why it isn’t.” 

His lips were inches away from yours. Endless blue eyes fixed on you, unwavering. It was impossible to think.

“One chance,” he said. “Let me show you exactly how I want us to be. All the ways I want to have you. How you’ve imagined having me.”

You felt your resolve melt along with the rest of you as Satoru pulled you off the bar stool and into him. You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t have even let it go this far, because now it was too late.

Because instead of pushing away, your hands were sliding up his chest, hooking around his broad shoulders.

“No one can know,” you heard yourself saying. “They can’t find out or else—“

“Is that a yes?”

“I—yes… but we have to be—“

Satoru’s mouth was on yours before you could finish the sentence. Your gasp turned into a sigh that quickly disintegrated as he deepened the kiss, stealing whatever air was left in your lungs.

Satoru devoured you like he was starving, his tongue destroying your mouth and your mind with each possessive flick. Like he wanted to sear the way he tasted into your memory… the heat of him… you didn’t know how you’d survived this long without him. 

You grabbed his shirt, clawing it off his back, needing to feel more of him. He shifted just enough to let you pull it off him. For you to slide your hands up his perfectly toned abs to his chest, feeling his smooth pale skin, every taut ridge of muscle, before he lifted you up and propped you on the edge of the kitchen island. 

“Your turn.” A slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips. His hands slipped underneath your sweater, dragging up and up and up until your sweater peeled right off. 

Your bra went next. 

“So beautiful,” he murmured. “I take it back. You look the best without any clothes on, which is why those jeans will have to go… eventually.”

Heat pooled between your thighs at the thought of it.

“But I think I’ll start here first.” Satoru lifted a finger, and a soft whimper escaped you as he idly circled one of your breasts, then the other. Teasing you as each ring he drew closed in tighter and tighter around your swelling nipple. 

“Ngh—Satoru...” you cried, breathless, when he flicked it. 

“Like that? Maybe you’ll like it better if I just…” He swiped up a dollop of frosting from the mixing bowl beside you, and smeared it over each peak of your hardened nipples, the sudden coldness sharp against your aching need. He lowered his mouth, and sucked on one of them. 

Your back arched forward, the heat of his tongue slowly licking, nipping, like he’d found the most delicious meal and wanted to take his time savouring every bit of it. 

He scooped more frosting and drew a thick, gooey line down the middle of your torso. Down and down before stopping right above the band of your jeans. 

Satoru licked his lips, his smile growing devious. “So you don’t forget where this ends.” 

“You’re terrible.” But you couldn’t help smiling back.

“Oh, I promise you I’m very, very good. The best.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Is that a challenge?” He clicked his tongue, playfully admonishing. “Because if it is, I won’t hold back. I’ll have you screaming my name before I’m done, then begging to scream it again after.”

The region below your belly squirmed. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pressing your aching centre against that thick, solid length straining beneath his pants. 

“Try me,” you breathed, and ground against him. 

Satoru groaned, eyes darkening into something feral. Then he was pushing you down flat against the kitchen island, among the clutter of bowls and flour and batter he’d not yet cleaned up.

“Consider yourself warned, sweetheart,” he said.

He yanked off your jeans in one smooth motion, and with your legs still up in the air, he spread them apart.

You suddenly wished you had opted for a nicer pair of underwear instead of the faded cotton one you usually wore at home. Cheeks flushed, you peered up at Satoru, thinking he might laugh at your granny panties, but you only found him staring.

“God…you’re soaked.” His voice came out hoarse, almost in disbelief. “Is it all for me?”

The look on his face, his question, somehow made you a little braver. You bucked your hips up in answer. “Take it off and see for yourself.”

But instead, Satoru pressed a thumb into the damp cotton, right at the centre of your aching nerves, and began stroking. You moaned from the sudden pressure, the friction of fabric burning against your clit. 

“I’ve had a long, long time to think about how I want to have you, kacho-san,” said Satoru as his thumb worked in slow, steady circles, both relieving and maddening you at once. “So you’ll forgive me for not rushing this.”

In the next stroke, his thumb stretched the fabric aside and slid underneath. The heat of his skin finally met all of your wetness, and rubbed right up the centre of your clit. You moaned louder, eyes shuttering from the sheer elation of his bare touch. 

Satoru swore. “You’re killing me with that face. It’s too pretty. Now I don’t want you showing it to anyone else but me.”

“Satoru, please… any more and I’m going to—“

“Not yet, baby.” He plunged his finger into you, and your mind went numb. “Can’t have you coming so soon. Not when there’s so much more for you to enjoy.”

The world ceased to exist save the feel of him rocking inside you. It was torment. It was rapture. It was everything, yet not nearly enough.

You were panting so hard you didn’t realise him bending over you until he caught your mouth with his, swallowing up every wretched sound you released. And just as you were about to give in and beg for more, he tore away, pulling back, and ripped your panties off.

“Finally,” Satoru breathed, and it sounded like awe. Then he was on his knees, clutching your thighs as he splayed you wide open. 

The first lick of his tongue, hot and slick up your clit, completely decimated your mind. You forgot your name. Your very being. Your legs hooked around his shoulders, fingers diving into his hair, pressing him further into you. Needing more, more, more…

Your cries filled the kitchen as Satoru worked you with his mouth in broad, sweeping strokes—flicking, kissing, teeth grazing lightly in a way that drove you insane that each time he did it you thought you might tip right over the edge.

“I was right,” Satoru murmured. “I can never get enough of this.”

His tongue slipped inside you, and you lost it. Lost yourself fully, absolutely, to the feel of him, crying out as release surged up your spine, wracking through your entire body. Your toes curled. Seized. Your hips writhing as Satoru continued fucking you with his tongue to the last throes of your climax. Until you were nothing but a limp heap of flesh beneath him.

You were still heaving as Satoru kissed his way up your body, up the column of your neck. His breaths, warm against your skin, his lips caressing that sensitive spot behind your ear—it only undid you further. 

You reached for him, arms winding round his back, and turned your head to look at him. 

And the moment you met those sky blue eyes, the truth you’d been so stubbornly ignoring for years hit you like a punch to the gut—

That you were so gone for him. You always were. 

“Satoru,” you whispered. “I want more… I want you.”

He stilled, just for a moment, as if he couldn’t quite believe what you’d said. Then those perfect lips curved into a devastating smile. 

“I never said we were stopping, sweetheart.”

It was like the leash controlling whatever Satoru held back had snapped. He’d picked you up as if you weighed nothing, slung you over his shoulder—your bare ass facing upwards, which he smacked playfully when you tried to kick him—and carried you up the stairs straight to his bedroom.

“It’s too bright,” you said, when he flicked on more lights.

“All the better for you to see me,” was his reply before he threw you on the bed, and wasted no time climbing on top of you.

He’d made you come three more times with his mouth alone, each climax topping the one before until you could no longer feel your legs. Until you were a whimpering mess beneath him. 

Still, you wanted more. More of him. More than this.

Now he had you on his lap, facing forward, spread apart as he made you watch him pump three fingers into you at a relentless pace.

“Ahn—Toru! Please…” you moaned, head tipping back, helpless to the pressure that was building up in you again.

“Please what, baby?” Satoru dragged his mouth along the curve of your neck. “Is it too much? Should I add one more?”

“No—ahn! I want—I want you inside me…”

“But I already am, and you’re taking it so, so well.”

“Stop—hngh—teasing…”

“I’d hardly call it teasing when you’re about to come for me again. Look at you—so damn tight. You’re practically eating up my fingers.” 

“Toru—I can’t…”

Satoru only plunged deeper, filling you up to his knuckles. Mini explosions went off in your head as he wrecked that sensitive spot inside you over and over again. All coherent thoughts left you as another brutal climax shattered you apart.

You sagged against him, your body trembling as Satoru’s fingers slipped out and began gently stroking your clit, preparing you for another round.

Bloody hell, what kind of depraved beast was he? You’d never come this hard, this many times, before in your life. You’d never thought such a thing was even possible. Then again, it wasn’t as if you had a prolific sex life. Or a proper relationship for the matter. The longest you’d dated someone was a grand total of three months, and even then you’d been so consumed with work that you spent more time texting the guy than actually going out with him. As expected, he’d grown bored fairly quick. You’d stuck to one night stands after that.

And of course—of course Satoru had to be the best you’d ever had. No one came close. It was infuriating and addictive and utterly irresistible. 

It ruined you for anyone else but him. 

Sick of him having his way with you, you shifted to face him, pressing your chest against his. You wedged a hand between your body and his, and slid it down his ridiculously sculpted abdomen. Down until you found what you were searching for. 

Satoru groaned as you palmed his granite hard cock through his pants. “Fuck, baby—“

You were already unfastening his pants, yanking them down. 

The full length of him sprang free, and your mouth went dry at the sight of it. 

Fuuuuuuuck… what the fuck? What didn’t the gods bless him with? That wasn’t a dick. It was an unholy weapon of mass destruction. You weren’t sure if a quarter would even fit—

“Oh, it will. I’ll make sure it does.” Satoru smirked, reading your mind. Then he was flipping you onto the sheets, his hips between your thighs as he brought your legs up and over his shoulders. “You know, I was going to prep you some more so you could take me easier. But since you insist on being so impatient…”

The tip of his cock rubbed into your dripping wet folds, and you couldn’t help but make a pathetic sound at how good it felt. 

“Keep those eyes open, sweetheart.” Satoru’s lips formed a wicked curve as he continued grazing up and down your clit. “I want to see them when I do this—”

He slid into you, and you cried out from the sheer intensity. It was only the tip, yet he was so thick you were already stretched thin trying to accommodate him. 

“God, Satoru, you’re—“

“Amazing?” He grinned. “Absolutely everything you imagined?”

“Just shut up and fuck me.”

He laughed as he eased out slightly, then immediately pushed back in deeper. You couldn’t hear your own moans, all your focus narrowing around the feel of him as he repeated the motion again and again until every inch of him was buried inside you. 

You were struggling to breathe, legs stiffening as you dug your fingers into his back, but each twitch of his impossibly hard cock had you whimpering. And he had yet to move.

“It’s too big,” you bit out. 

Another smirk. “You’re welcome.” Satoru planted a gentle kiss on your thigh. “Try and relax, beautiful. I’ll get you used to me soon enough.”

He gave you all of two seconds before pulling out halfway and slamming the full length of him into you again. Your mind went blank, back arching off the bed. But he gave you no reprieve, pulling out slowly only to thrust in hard and fast. Again and again. 

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so well.” His pace increased to merciless, pounding into you until you could no longer close your mouth. Couldn’t care less about whatever lewd sounds you were making. “God, you feel so good I’m going crazy.”

“Ahn—ahn! Toru—“

“Say my name again.”

“S—Satoru…”

“Again.”

“Satoru,” you cried out. “Gojo Satoru!”

“Good girl.” His hand splayed out on your stomach, pinning you down as he fucked you to oblivion. Until nothing existed but the feel of his cock inside you.

You could die. You could die right now and you wouldn’t care. A hot surge prickled up your spine, up and up to fill your head, but as you were about to tip over the edge, Satoru pulled out. 

The sudden emptiness hit you like a brick wall. Your chin snapped down, just as you saw him grab your hips, dragging you forward to the edge of the bed. Satoru stood, half kneeling on the bed, and brought your hips up to meet him before sheathing himself inside you again. 

“And now for your reward, sweetheart,” he said. His thumb found your clit, and he flicked it—

Flicked it as he ground inside you.

“Fuck…” you moaned, eyes rolling back. “Toru…”

“Want me to stop?” he teased. 

“D-don’t—more… don’t stop…”

The increased pressure on your clit was his reply, stroking hard and fast as Satoru continued fucking you at the same time. Feral. Ruthless. Each pound against your ass filling you up to the hilt, the friction of his thumb never ceasing.

You couldn’t tell where one climax began and ended from the other. Nothing could compare to this. To him. To the way you were coming over and over again, crying out his name while he drove into you, letting you ride out your pleasure to the end before he finally gave in to his own release—a deep, guttural groan as he spent himself inside you.

You were still trying to catch your breath when he gently shifted you back to the middle of the bed, then fell beside you, an arm slung over your stomach to pull you closer. He kissed your temple, then your cheek, then trailed more along your jaw, down your neck, your collarbone while his fingers drew light circles on your skin. 

“Wanna go again?” he asked.

“You can’t be serious.”

Those blue eyes met yours. “I am if you are. Always.”

Despite having been utterly ravaged, your cheeks flushed. “Don’t assume this will be a regular occurrence.”

“Can’t it be?” His fingers traced the underside of your breasts. “From what I saw, you were enjoying yourself as much as me, and that’s only the beginning of what I plan to show you.”

“We work together, Satoru. It’ll only… complicate things.”

“I should think it’ll be easier. Like you said, we work together. We see each other almost every day. No one will suspect a thing.”

“You know all it takes is one photo. One.”

“I promise I’ll behave. At least in public.” 

You hesitated. “It’s—it’s too risky. That recording—“

“I deleted it.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. What if next time it’s not me who’s recording? They’ll have proof of me coercing you into—“

“Just so you know, we didn’t do anything.”

You blinked, confused. “Huh?” 

“That night… Toji was going to send you home first, but you were one red light away from hurling all over the car. My place was nearer. But when we got here, you just complained your back was sore, and then demanded I give you a massage for all the stress I’ve caused you.”

You gaped at him. “But—but all the things I said—“

“You mean the part when I said I belong to you?” His smile turned playful. “Partly my fault. I may have said I wouldn’t mind switching managers if it means you’ll go out with me.”

“You what?”

“Hey, it was a joke. A bad one, come to think of it. But it got you all worked up, which was why you did the recording. Though your exact words were for me to promise I wouldn’t work with anyone else. I just paraphrased it.”

“So… nothing happened?”

Satoru chuckled. “No, sweetheart. Tonight is the first.” He caught your chin, and brushed his lips against yours. “Come on, say yes,” he murmured. “Say I’ll get to have you like this again.”

“I—“ You opened your mouth to reject him, but somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Not while he was looking at you like that. Hopeful. Almost… pleading. Not when you knew, without a doubt, that no one could compare to the way he made you feel. He was the forbidden fruit you’d been circling around for years, and now that you’d had a taste, it was impossible not to want more. 

“Fine,” you said at last, before you could regret it. “But we have to be careful. If there’s even the tiniest rumour, we’re stopping this. I’m not going to ruin both our careers over a dumb fling.”

Satoru raised a brow. “A fling?”

“And,” you continued. “You’re going to do that movie.”

“Are you bribing me?”

“Take it or leave it.”

Satoru laughed softly, then he was pulling you tighter against him. His mouth caught yours, and you knew his answer. You reached for his face, and with your walls finally down, you did the very thing that had been nagging at you the whole night.

“You have a little bit of…” You swiped at the errant streak of batter on his cheek, then brought  your finger to your lips and licked it clean.

Satoru’s eyes darkened, at odds with the indulgent smile he gave you.

“You shouldn’t tempt me like that,” he said, and you felt him hardening against your thigh. “Now the only way you’re going to sleep is if you pass out with me inside you.”

“Satoru, it’s late,” you began to protest. “We have a meeting in the morning to discuss Domain’s tour dates.”

But he was already moving on top of you, arms on either side of your head, caging you in. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead, then nudged that god-tier cock at your entrance. “I’ll make sure there’s time to properly fuck you in the morning too.”

As promised, Satoru fucked you that morning, then again in the evening. He would have fucked you in that meeting if he could. He’d spent the entirety of it playing footsie with you under the table while you repeatedly swatted away his hand each time he tried slipping it under the hem of your skirt. By the end of it, you couldn’t remember a thing Yaga or the other members had said.

It went on like this for the next three months. Satoru would find any opportunity to be alone with you, and when he wasn’t, he’d find any opportunity to steal a touch, a stroke, a brush, or to simply be next to you.

“Stop being so obvious,” you’d scold him when he’d lean his head on your shoulder and pretend to sleep after another gruelling session at the recording studio. He’d fake a snore and then peck you on the cheek when the others weren’t looking.

He’d also interpreted your warnings to be careful out in public very loosely, often catching up or slowing down so he could walk beside you at events. His face would be arranged in a neutral expression as he bent close to your ear, and to everyone watching, it looked like he was merely discussing something with his manager. But the filthy things he’d whisper in your ear would make your knees go weak, and at the same time paranoid that someone would finally realise you were blushing red as a bloody tomato.

Not only was Satoru inept at being inconspicuous, he had zero filter when he spoke to you, especially while describing what he was going to do to you. And when you did stay over at his, which honestly, was most nights, the sex…

Sex with Gojo Satoru was a league of its own. 

“Who’s the best?” he’d demand while pounding you stupid against the panoramic glass window in his living room.

“Ahn! Hngh—you, Satoru…”

“Who’s cock do you want?”

“Yours—I want yours…”

“Say it properly.”

“Gojo Satoru’s cock is the best—ahn!”

In the short span of time since you’d both become more than manager and idol, Satoru had taken you on every possible surface in his penthouse, including the private elevator. His favourite was in the shower. He’d make you use the shower head on yourself while he watched, then lifted you, legs straddling him, and impaled you over and over again. 

But it wasn’t his insatiable appetite that you were starting to find a problem.

It was the quiet nights when you weren’t tearing each other’s clothes off. When you were plain exhausted from the week. Satoru would clock it immediately when you trudged into his home, about to tell him you weren’t feeling it tonight, or at least to make it quick. 

“Bath. Pyjamas,” he’d say, pointing you up the stairs. “Food will be here when you come down.”

If it was early, he’d cook simple, hearty meals. If it was late, he ordered takeaway. He’d bundle you up in blankets on the couch, put on a movie, and snuggle next to you while you ate off a tray. He’d comment on the scenes, the characters, the lines, an arm slung over the couch as he mindlessly stroked the back of your neck. And when you inevitably dozed off, you’d always find yourself tucked in his bed when you woke. 

It was the mornings when he’d hug you from behind as you sat at the kitchen island scrolling through your e-mails, his chin resting on top of your head. The way his eyes lit up every time you walked into the room, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real. 

You couldn’t explain the flutters in your stomach, the skipped beat in your chest. Why it was that you found yourself wanting to be around him more and more, and not just for work or sex. Maybe you didn’t want to make sense of it, because doing so would mean facing what you suspected was a truth you weren’t prepared for. 

Still, like the gradual yet inevitable shift in seasons, you found yourself in Satoru’s home more and more. Nights became days, and before you knew it, your toothbrush had it’s own cup beside his; your clothes were hanging in his wardrobe; the snacks you liked were in his pantry; you had a favourite chair; the left side of the bed belonged to you. 

Conversations with Satoru became a mixture of shameless teasing and inconsequential chatter. You’d share random opinions, he’d tell you about something funny Suguru had said, you’d both bicker over the best way to piece a jigsaw puzzle. Satoru’s text messages volleyed between flirtation, obscenity, and ‘what time r u coming home’, and ‘will be late, pizza in fridge’.

And you couldn’t help but sink deeper and deeper into this new rhythm. This comfort.

Of being with him.

“Sure, keep doing that. You don’t look suspicious at all,” said Satoru as your head snapped around yet again. 

“But that lady is staring at us.”

“Because you’re staring at her.”

“We should’ve asked Toji to drive.”

“It’s one block, sweetheart. You’ll survive the walk. There’s no parking there anyway, and no one normal takes a bodyguard to get ice cream.”

You grumbled a little and tugged your cap down further. Satoru chuckled behind his mask, his eyes and stark white hair completely hidden under dark sunglasses and an oversized beanie. You’d made him wear the baggiest clothes he could find so as not to draw any attention to his physique, but his height was still an issue. At six foot three, he towered over every passerby on the sidewalk. 

That, and he’d refused to let go of your hand, his fingers locked and intertwined with yours. You could only pray the after lunch hour crowd were too busy rushing back to their offices to stop and really take notice. You’d already passed by two advertisements with his face on them. 

“Let’s go out,” he’d said, yet again. It had been six months since… whatever this was between the both of you, and every week or so, Satoru never failed to try and convince you to let him take you on a date. 

“What’s the point?” you’d made the same excuse. “It’s not like we don’t see each other every day. It’s too risky. You’re too easy to recognise—”

“No restaurants, no cafes. I know a place,” he’d pressed. “Come on, baby. I’ll be away at the filming site tomorrow. I’m gonna need something to hold on to so I won’t miss my pretty girl too much. Also, heads up, I’m going to fuck you really well tonight.”

“I’m sure you can manage two months on your own, Satoru.”

He’d whined and pestered and low-key threatened to not show up for filming, and out of annoyance, you’d reluctantly agreed to let him drag you to the quaint, little ice cream parlour you were now approaching, tucked away in a forgotten laneway amidst the city’s towering skyscrapers and glitzier establishments. 

The bell jingled as Satoru held the door open for you, then flipped the welcome sign around to ’Sorry, We’re Closed’ and turned the lock. 

You raised a brow. “You can’t just do that.”

“Not like anyone comes here, and it’s kind of my shop.”

“You own an ice cream shop?”

“Kind of,” Satoru emphasised, while he proceeded to shed the disguises covering up his face and hair. “I bought it for someone. My name’s on the papers, but I don’t run it. I'm really just a customer.”

In that moment, the door to the backroom opened, and out stepped a young boy who looked to be around high school age. He was pretty, with long, spiky black hair and an expression too serious for the baby blue apron he was wearing. 

“Oh,” he said, deadpanned. Perhaps slightly annoyed. “It’s you again.”

Satoru swept out his arms, dramatically. “Megumi-channnn! Did you miss me? You did, didn’t you? I can tell.”

Megumi ignored him, his keen gaze settling on you. “So this is the manager you can’t shut up about.”

“The one and only.” Satoru grinned, winding an arm around you. “Sweetheart, meet Megumi-chan, my precious little street urchin that Toji dumped on me to babysit.”

Megumi scowled. “Oi, if you’re going to introduce me to your girlfriend, do it properly.”

You flinched. Did he just call you…  your eyes snapped up at Satoru. 

“Ahh… I can explain that.” For the first time, Satoru seemed nervous. “The thing is—I may or may not have told Megumi we’re dating.”

“You what?” Your eyes widened.

“Well, we kind of are. We see each other more than anyone else. It’s just not official yet, but I’m going to change that. Which is why we’re here. I wanted to take you out before asking.”

“She doesn’t know?” Megumi snorted. “You know what, I’m not even surprised anymore.” He took off his apron. “I’m going out for lunch. Use the cups this time—don’t dip your spoon in the tubs and mess up all the flavours.”

With that, Megumi gave you a small nod you couldn’t fully understand, and left without another word. 

“Satoru, I…” you began, but your words trailed off, at lost of what to say.

But Satoru was steering you gently behind the counter. He pulled open a drawer and took out two spoons, handing you one, then slid open the glass of the ice cream display.

“Megumi makes them himself,” he said. “They’re pretty good. Go on, try them all.”

“But he said not to—“

“I’m going to tell you a story,” he continued. “When I’m done, you can tell me if you liked the ice cream. Or not.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew what he was asking—to hear him out. To listen to what he had to say, to everything he hadn’t yet said.

And at the end, for you to make a choice. About him.

Your hand dipped into the cooler to scoop a spoonful from the chocolate tub. “Alright,” you said. “Tell me.”

Satoru sucked in a quiet breath, his gaze fixed entirely on you. Then in a tone so tender, he began. “There’s this girl I met eight years ago. When I wasn’t an idol. When I wasn’t a trainee. When I was just…me. She probably doesn’t remember this—at least I don’t think so. But I do. Every second of it.”

Your spoon froze mid-bite.

“Suguru was the one who wanted to be an idol,” Satoru went on. “He was always going on about us forming a group together and changing the world. I wasn’t interested. I’d just gotten the acceptance letter from Harvard, and all I wanted to do then was bum around before my parents shipped me off to med school. Suguru convinced me to accompany him to audition at Jujutsu Entertainment—said I’d be there for moral support. I knew he was hoping I’d change my mind at the last minute, but as his best friend, I couldn’t say no.”

As if on cue, Domain’s chart-topping single, Limitless, came on the speakers then. Satoru’s magnetic voice, crooning the first verse of the song he wrote, filled the tiny shop.

I was fine just running blind,

Living fast, leaving things behind

“I told him I’d wait outside the building until he was done. I knew he’d pass the audition and was thinking if I should finally buy him a meal. That’s when I see this girl, all sweaty and red-faced as if she’s about to drop dead at any moment from the heat. I’ve never seen someone run so fast while balancing six trays of coffee… it was hilarious.”

Vaguely, you felt the world slipping out from under your feet as a memory, thin and distant, jogged into your mind.

The song had progressed into the pre-chorus. 

No map, no end, it’s by design,

My eyes see only clear blue skies

“She was so focused on those coffees she ran right into me before I could stop her. Made a mess on the both us. She panicked, of course. Didn’t even look at me as she apologised and was already about to rush back the other way, all drenched… I assume to buy more coffee. She was mumbling something about not keeping the trainees waiting…”

The chorus played.

I’m limitless, no boundaries,

Gravity bends so easily

“So me being me, I told her that the trainees were assholes for making her carry so many coffees by herself. You know what she said?” Satoru chuckled, fondly. “She scolded me. Quite loudly, I might add. Said I had no right to talk about them like that—that their lives are hard enough as it is. That they never asked her to do this for them, and I was the real asshole for assuming so. That I wouldn’t be thinking this way when I became a trainee myself. Guess she thought I was there for auditions. Don’t blame her though, I am very handsome after all.”

Nanami’s rap for the second verse had ended. Chocolate ice cream was dripping down your spoon, melting on your tongue. But all you could do was stare at Satoru as the memory became clearer and clearer. 

“Seriously, I thought, who does this girl think she is? Telling me off when I’m just trying to be nice for once. I got offended. So I told her that if I do become an idol, I was going to make her run errands for me every hour whether she liked it or not until she takes back what she said. I’ll never forget what she told me then.”

The second chorus flowed out the speakers. Satoru reached for you, lifting the cap off your head. His hand cupped your face, warm and steady. 

“She told me if I did become an idol, and if she was my manager, that she’ll make sure she’s always on my side. That I will never, ever, have to feel like I’m alone.”

Lives one voice, so right, my guide,

Saying I’ll never stand alone, it’s become my home

Every song I write, it’s you I find

You’re the heart in every line

Ever so softly, Satoru stroked your cheek. “You weren’t the only one who fell that day, kacho-san.”

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think past everything he’d said. The way he was looking at you, the way he held you, as if you were going to disappear the moment he blinked. As if he was afraid this was nothing but a dream. 

He’d written that song for you. Every song Satoru had ever written for Domain… they were about you. And you never once realised it. 

Through the speakers, Satoru sang his final solo.

If forever’s taking time,

I will still be here for you to find

“So,” Satoru’s voice was quiet, but his eyes stayed on you, unwavering. “How’s the ice cream?”

You didn’t need to think for your answer.

“It’s good,” you whispered. “But it’s not my favourite.”

He winced a little. His hand retreated. “Oh, I see… sure. We’ll just… go home then, I guess…”

“It’s not my favourite because you are, Satoru.”

You watched his eyes widen, stunned. For a long moment, Satoru just stared at you. 

“Wait… say that again.”

You couldn’t help smiling. “Yes, Gojo Satoru, I’ll go out with you.”

“Thank God.” He was lifting you up in his arms in the next second. Your spoon clattered onto the floor as Satoru’s lips found yours. 

His kiss was tender. Deep. Unhurried. Like a long held sigh finally let loose. Like you were a desperate wish coming true at last.

When you broke apart, out of breath, Satoru was grinning from ear to ear. So bright. So beautiful.

“Damn, I’m really, really going to miss my girlfriend tomorrow,” he said, before pulling you back in for another kiss. 

You forgot all about ice cream after that.

You’d gone and done it now. You were officially dating Gojo Satoru. The world’s number one idol was now your boyfriend, at least in secret.

And Satoru couldn’t help milking it. In fact, he’d taken it upon himself to call you his girlfriend every chance he got. 

“What would my lovely girlfriend like to have for dinner? I’m the dessert, of course.”

“Come and take a shower with me, my beautiful girlfriend.”

“God, my girlfriend’s tight, little pussy is the best.”

You’d continued staying at his place while he was away filming. Most of your stuff were here anyway, and it was closer to work and the rest of Domain’s members. Suguru lived in the penthouse two doors down, while Kento and Yu were in the same building around the block. 

You’d thought it odd at first that they would choose to live so close to each other, but you’d quickly learned that the bond between them was as unbreakable as steel. It had been that way since their trainee days, and you had no doubt it played a role in their meteoric rise to fame, and why they worked so well as an idol group.

Satoru had wanted to tell them about you immediately, and somehow, you couldn’t deny him. They were his friends. His only real friends. Truth be told, it wasn’t much of a risk. You’d suspected Satoru was already keeping them updated to some extent. 

It would definitely explain why, like Megumi, they had showed no surprise when he’d video called the group the moment you got home from the ice cream parlour.

“Congratulations you two!” Yu had cheered, as if Satoru had popped the question.

“Hmm, didn’t think you’d stay professional for this long,” remarked Kento.

“Finally,” Suguru said, calmly. “Now we won’t have to watch you mope around for days whenever she rejects you.”

Besides Megumi, perhaps the only other non-group members who had some idea were Shoko and Toji. You’d never explicitly mentioned anything to Shoko, and she’d never asked, but a shirtless Satoru walking around in the background whenever you had late night video meetings was proof enough. And Toji—

Well, Toji would have to had lost both his ears to not hear all the lewd sounds coming from behind the car’s privacy screen as Satoru ate you out on the way to the airport. Either that, or he simply didn’t give a shit. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know you’d been staying at Satoru’s for awhile now. 

It had been a couple of weeks since Satoru was away at filming, giving you time to catch up with work and the rest of Domain. But something had shifted within you. Each time your phone rang or buzzed with a new text, you found yourself hoping it was him, and when it was, you couldn’t help smiling. At nights, the bed felt awfully cold and empty. Your days, your activities, your work, your thoughts, Satoru became the first person you wanted to tell.

No matter how late it was, Satoru would always make sure to call you, even if it was just to say goodnight, and it was no different tonight.

“Baby, are you free to talk?”

You were in your pyjamas with the blanket pulled up to your neck. “Don’t you have to be up at four in the morning? You should get some sleep, Toru.”

“But I can’t sleep without you hugging me.”

“You just finished a ten hour shoot. I’m sure you’re tired enough.”

“I hate it here. I miss you too much. That dumb actress is always trying to worm her way into my trailer to go through lines together. It’s annoying. Can’t I just tell her I have a girlfriend? The prettiest, most gorgeous, irresistible girlfriend I happen to be crazy in love with.”

Your breath hitched. “You—you love me?”

“Hopelessly. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

You didn’t expect your heart to melt the way it did. For the warmth in which he said those words to make you feel so…safe. So complete. Like the last piece of a puzzle finally fitting into place. 

You didn’t expect him to feel like home. 

“Satoru,” you found yourself saying. “I—I think I—“

Your phone flashed with another incoming call. It was Shoko, and if she was calling this late instead of texting, then it had to be something urgent. 

“Call you back,” you told Satoru, and switched lines immediately before he could protest.

“Have you seen it?” Shoko said without preamble. “The netizens are going nuts, and Yaga’s lost his shit.”

“Seen what?” But a cold had started to creep up your spine.

“The text I sent you five minutes ago. Check it.”

Your phone flashed again. It was Satoru. But you ended his call and tapped into Shoko’s message. She’d forwarded a link.

Nothing could prepare you for what you saw the moment the post loaded. Ice bled into your veins, and all you could do was stare at your screen…

The photo was grainy, snapped hastily through a glass window. But there was no mistaking the white-haired man behind the counter of a familiar ice cream parlour, his lips locked with a woman whose back was facing the camera. 

Below was another photo, of you and Satoru at the airport. At first glance, there was nothing out of the ordinary. You were just his manager sending him off. But then you spotted it—the glaring evidence like a slap to your face.

You were wearing the exact same cap you had on at the ice cream parlour.

The comment from the original poster only confirmed it:

’Coincidence? I think not. Thought of deleting, but it isn’t fair to y’all.’

They’d posted it barely an hour ago, but the comments section had already blown out of proportion.

All the blood drained from your face. Your phone flashed again. It was the fifth time Satoru was calling. You just stared at his name until the call ended itself.

Why did you ever think things were going to be okay? Somehow, along the way, you’d lost the plot in favour of your feelings. You’d let yourself be lulled into a false sense of security. You’d become too soft. Convinced yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could be happy with Satoru.

That he could be yours.

But the bubble you’d created with him had always been made of glass, and now the glass had shattered.

Text messages upon text messages were flooding your phone. From Shoko, from Yaga, from the Domain members. From Satoru. 

Fifteen minutes. That was all the time you gave yourself to ignore everything and spiral. To wallow in your panic.

You took a deep breath, then hauled your feet out of bed and went to grab your laptop before calling Shoko. There would be no sleep for you tonight. 

You were going to fix this. Even if Yaga fired you tomorrow, you were going to make sure you did everything you could so Satoru wouldn’t be dragged through the mud along with you. You were going to save his reputation, and if it meant setting yours on fire, so be it. 

One and a half months later...

“Kacho-san, are you watching this?” Shoko said as soon as you answered.

Of course you were, and you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. As you watched the livestream of the press conference play out on your laptop, the camera zooming in on Satoru, your heart fell out your throat as he gave a dazzling smile and repeated what he’d said, as if for emphasis.

“She won’t let me be her boyfriend anymore, but she’s still my girlfriend. Does that answer your question?”

Chaos erupted among the reporters. Cameras were flashing non-stop. A million questions were thrown at Satoru all at once. 

“Wow, he’s really driving it home, huh?” said Shoko.

“We have to cut the livestream” you said, panicking.

“Too late. There are ten thousand fans watching this. It’ll only piss them off more.”

“Fuck. Why can’t he just stick to the damn script?”

“I don’t think he’s ever known what the word means.”

Throughout the media frenzy, Satoru remained calm, waiting until the questions died down before speaking again. 

“I apologise if this has disappointed my fans. Hiding a relationship was never my intention. If I’m being honest, I never wanted to hide her. Not before. Not now. Not ever. But for her sake, I did.” Satoru laughed. “Oh, she’s going kill me for this.”

His gaze shifted to look directly into the camera. At you.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry okay? I’m going to tell them everything. Forgive me?”

Your hands clapped over your mouth as Satoru proceeded to tell them exactly what he’d told you at the ice cream parlour—the day he met you, and how you got mad about what he’d said. That if he were to become an idol, you would make sure he was never truly alone. That he hadn’t realised he’d already fallen for you until you became his manager. 

“So you see, this isn’t a fling to me. I’ve waited years for her, and I’ll continue waiting if that’s what she wants.”

Satoru loosened a breath, camera flashes bouncing off his handsome face. When he looked up again, there was only determination in his sky blue eyes, as if he was daring the viewers. Challenging them.

“I wouldn’t be who I am today without my fans, and I love them for everything they’ve given me. And I also love her. Badly. Immeasurably. She’s my guide. The reason I’m an idol. The reason I’m able to give myself so freely. So… can’t we all just get along and share me?” He winked. “That’s all I have to say. Suguru will share the details about the tour.”

And with that, Satoru stood up, so casually as if he hadn’t just broke headlines for the weeks to come, and walked out of the conference hall. 

The press was going wild, and so were the comments underneath the livestream. 

“Uhh, kacho-san? You still alive?” Shoko’s voice pulled you out of your trance. “Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“Shoko, can I call you back?”

“Sure, take your time. I think I might have to call that ambulance anyway. Utahime looks like her soul has left her body.”

You mumbled a quick goodbye, your feet already moving out your office, then running out the entrance of Jujutsu Entertainment to hail the first taxi you saw. 

You knew his schedule by heart. He had a meeting with Yaga after the press conference, but you also knew Satoru well enough that there was no chance he’d bother turning up. Not after the media storm he’d unleashed. 

The taxi had barely braked in front of Satoru’s apartment before you were out, flinging a wad of cash at the driver. You didn’t care if it was rude. You didn’t care to greet the doorman. Didn’t care as you fumbled for your keycard while slamming a hand repeatedly on the elevator button. 

You didn’t know why you were rushing. It wasn’t as if he was going anywhere. All you knew was that you had to see him. To tell him. 

You didn’t want him to wait anymore. 

When the doors pinged open, you found him. Pacing about the foyer in the same clothes he’d worn at the press conference. Satoru halted, eyes finding yours as you stepped out, heart pounding. 

“You came home,” he said, almost in disbelief. 

This time, you didn’t hesitate, and closed the gap between the both of you.

“Yes,” you said, reaching to cup your hands around his beautiful face. “I also came to tell you that I love you too.”

For awhile, Satoru didn’t speak. He simply… stared, a flurry of emotions fleeting through those infinite blue eyes, unguarded. 

His throat bobbed. “Say it again. Please.”

You kissed him then. Softly. Gently.

“I love you, Gojo Satoru,” you whispered against his lips. “Shall I say it one mo—“

His mouth was on yours again. His hand slid around your waist, pulling you tight against him, like he never wanted to let go. A tender, desperate kiss. Deep and slow. Devastating and warm. The kind of kiss that only told truth. Of days and months and years chasing the finish line. An endless wait finally seeing light. 

“You taste like heaven,” he said when you finally tore apart, the silence of the foyer filling back around you.

You laughed at his cheesiness, but you liked it all the same. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

Satoru was smiling. “An idiot you love.”

“Yes,” you said, pulling him back in for another kiss. “And for quite some time now.”

After successfully spinning the narrative with his super sincere public declaration in the way only Gojo Satoru could pull off, it didn’t take long for the public’s sentiment to switch from outrage to undying support.

Once again, Satoru had wielded his magic and it had worked. His gamble had paid off, sealing his image and reputation in a whole new stratosphere. The name Gojo Satoru was now untouchable, his influence undeniable. His value in the entertainment industry skyrocketed to boundary breaking heights overnight, and so had Domain’s. 

It was the kind of viral whirlwind every idol company dreamed of inciting. You’d prepared for the backlash. For the call from Yaga to fire you. You’d predicted bedlam, and had Shoko and Utahime prepare every possible kind of press release and social media post to hopefully assuage the onslaught. 

But you’d made your choice, and this time, you had no regrets. 

What you didn’t expect was to end up in hair and makeup, about to do your fifth magazine photoshoot with Satoru this month alone. Six page spread. Multiple outfits. Theme: Devotion.

And no one was enjoying it more than Satoru himself. Now that he had free reign to flaunt your relationship in public, flaunt he did. Boldly. Shamelessly. 

“If you keep blushing like that, sweetheart, you’re going to look like a tomato in the photos,” he teased as he held you in pose under the heat of the glaring studio lights, his lips pressed up against the column of your neck as the photographer clicked away at the camera. “A very adorable, very delicious tomato.”

It was no different at interviews. You’d be talking about the tour when he’d suddenly throw out lines like “Your dedication is so sexy, kacho-san,” and “Anyone thinks my manager looks especially beautiful today?”, and completely derail the entire conversation. 

Jujutsu Entertainment, for its part, wasted no time in capitalising your relationship with Satoru, marketing the both of you as the ideal, fantasy couple. That the public was aware nothing about you and Satoru was fabricated only sold your new image harder. Not like Jujutsu Entertainment had a choice unless they wanted an angry mob of fans out for their blood, and though the brand pivot was Yaga’s idea, it didn’t stop him from grumbling about the power Satoru now held over the industry. 

“Justice for Satoru my ass,” he’d complain. “You know what deserves justice? My damn headache for the last eight years.”

Privacy became a luxury for you, but it was a small price to pay if it meant holding Satoru’s hand whenever you wanted. And it made the days and nights when you and Satoru were finally, truly alone, tucked away from the rest of the world, that much more precious.  

“There’s a mistake with the order,” you said, as you stood in the sparsely furnished room Satoru had cleared out to turn into your home office. Since his place was bigger and closer to work, you both had decided you’d rent out your apartment and move in with him. “They sent two chairs instead of one.”

“Nah, it’s correct,” Satoru replied with a boyish grin. “Unless you’d prefer to work sitting on my lap, that is.”

“I thought you said you’d give me a space of my own.”

“Baby, this whole house belongs to you. Do whatever you want—change the furniture, throw out anything you don’t like, paint all the walls pink if it makes you happy. I don’t care. Everything here is yours, including me.”

How could you not melt to that? You let him pick you up and set you on the edge of the large study desk, your legs wrapping around his hips.

Satoru hooked a finger around the necklace you wore, tugging your face inches from his. “Nice piece of jewellery you got here.”

You laughed. “My boyfriend gave it to me.”

“Boyfriend?” His lips grazed yours. “Well, if he managed to get someone like you, he must be very handsome, and very lucky. And very, very good in bed.”

“Hmm, I don’t know about the bed part.”

“Oh? Would you like a reminder?”

And as he worshipped your body like a prayer answered, the half unpacked boxes with all your stuff temporarily forgotten, home no longer felt like a place to you.

Because the home you kept coming back to was always him.

It was the last concert of Domain’s eight month long world tour, and though a little unorthodox, Satoru and the rest had made a last minute request to add one more performance in Tokyo as the finale. In appreciation of their fans, they then went the extra mile and gave up a portion of their concert earnings for the ticket prices to be slashed in half. 

As expected, the website crashed. Tickets sold out in less than five minutes. 

“Toru…” you panted as he buried his face in your neck, kissing and nipping hungrily. “You’re going to—ngh—ruin your makeup…”

He had you on the dressing table in the green room. Your sleek, tailored pants were unbuttoned and pulled low, panties stretched aside as his hand worked between your thighs, two fingers pumping inside you at a pace he knew you couldn’t resist unravelling to.

“They’ll fix it up,” he murmured against your heated skin. “Besides, I need a little motivation to get me through the next three hours on stage.”

He slipped another finger inside, and you bit back your moan as he stretched you out. 

“You’re on in—hahh—thirty minutes… ahn—we should stop—“

“I promise we’ll be done in less than ten, my love.”

“God, Toru…I’m—I’m—“

“That’s it, baby.” His thumb pressed down on your clit while he hooked his fingers inside you, hitting that sensitive spot over and over again. “Show me that face I love.”

Release surged up your spine, and your mind went blank from pure bliss. You whimpered as he continued stroking you through the waves of pleasure, showering you with soft kisses at the same time. 

Breaths hot, he licked up the curve of your ear. “Want more?” 

Your hand moved to yank down his zip. “Just… be quick, okay?”

It was all the confirmation he needed to flip you around and shove down your panties. His first thrust was deep, filling you completely. You stifled a gasp, clenching around thickness of him. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, slamming back into you again. “You’re so perfect, baby. I’ll never get enough.”

“T-Toru—ahn! Not so loud—“

He only fucked you harder. Exactly the way he knew you liked it. Rough. Mind-numbing. It didn’t take long for your second climax to come exploding, his following soon after. 

Satoru’s arms wound around you, hugging you from behind until your breaths evened. Then he was gently turning you to face him, brushing the hair from your face.

He kissed you on the forehead. “Round two when we get home?”

“Seriously, where do you find all that energy?”

“Don’t you know?” He grinned. “You’re my fuel, sweetheart.”

“So I’m your guide, and your heart, and your soul, and now I’m petrol?”

He laughed, pulling you closer. “I’ll make it simple for you,” he said, low and tender. “You’re my everything.”

Of course you had to kiss him then. Almost a year of official dating and he still managed to make your heart race and stutter and flip and fall for him all over again. 

You gave in to another minute in his arms before the both of you reluctantly tore away to right your clothes and return to work. You had a hundred things to tick off before Domain went on stage. Fitting your earpiece in, you radioed for makeup to come in and was halfway to the door when you realised you forgot the most important thing.

You turned around and went to take Satoru’s hands in yours. 

“Good luck out there.”

He beamed, and lifted your hands to his lips. “Thank you, my love. I’m going to need it, especially tonight.”

You didn’t fully grasp his meaning until much, much later, as you stood off the stage’s right wing, out of sight from the roaring arena, attention shifting between the stage and a small screen set up at the side.

It was Domain’s second last song, an all-time favourite—fast, upbeat, with a hint of rock. A behemoth, mirrored staircase towered against the ever-shifting LCD backdrop. Kento was rapping out the second verse at the edge of the runway among a sea of screaming fans and dancing light sticks. And just as he hit the last beat, the spotlight on him cut off.

Darkness swallowed the entire arena for three seconds. 

Then millions of tiny stars blinked to life in the backdrop. Two cylinders of light beamed down from above, revealing Suguru and Yu at the top of the staircase, the crystals embedded in their jackets twinkling like they were made of the very stars surrounding them. 

Their voices soared out through the arena, delivering the bridge in perfect sync and harmony, the staircase’s mirrored construction making it seem like they were floating in midair.

You waited for the part you dreaded and loved. The safety measures were air tight, the cords and rigging checked, double checked, triple checked, then checked again. But still, you mumbled a prayer under your breath. The same prayer you’d repeated for the last eight months every single time it came to this part of the performance.

The endless stars began spinning. Faster. Faster. Merging into a silver flurry. A great vortex that seemed to suck all the light away into an infinite void. And as sudden as it began, it dispersed. Imploded. A cataclysmic supernova saturating every pixel of the LCD backdrop in brilliant colours.

Suspended alone high above the stage was Satoru, magnificent silver wings sprouting out his back and spread wide, like a bedazzled angel descending from another universe.

His voice filled the vastness of the arena, calm and beguiling, clear and imploring, as he spoke the words to his most iconic line.

“Throughout the heavens and the earth, I alone am the honoured one.”

The music peaked to a crescendo. The arena went wild, going crazy from the spectacle. It was outrageous. Devastating. Overwhelmingly stunning. A fever dream conjured by the single figure being slowly lowered onto the top of the staircase as he serenaded the audience with his solo.

“Don’t fucking fall,” you muttered, and when the soles of his boots finally flattened on solid surface, you breathed a sigh of relief.

Through some kind of stage magic, the wings broke off from Satoru, falling away and disappearing from sight. The staircase began receding, folding down on itself like a paper fan. Kento was moving to join the rest, and together, they powered through the last chorus. Silver glitter rained down on the stage, on them, like a shower of stardust, ending the song with all four members in a striking group pose.

The cheers and roars threatened to split your ears open. It was time for the last song, and the entire Tokyo Dome knew what it would be, and had started chanting. 

‘Limitless! Limitless! Limitless!…”

Mei Mei, Domain’s head makeup artist, slid up beside you. 

“Kacho-san, your lipstick is smudged,” she said it like an announcement. “Let me fix you up.”

“Oh, um, it’s okay,” you said, but her brush was already halfway to your face, a palette in her other hand. “You don’t need to—“

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve been compensated for this. Now hold still.” Her smile alluded you further. She snapped her fingers. “Ui Ui. Five minutes.”

Her understudy, Ui Ui, appeared with more assistants. Before you could protest, they had you in a plastic chair and were attacking your face with six brushes and powder puffs, blocking your view of the stage as the opening melody to Limitless began playing.  

Then you heard Satoru’s voice, but he wasn’t singing. 

“Ahh… hold on, hold on. Can we pause for a minute, please?”

The music cut short abruptly. 

“Done,” Mei Mei declared just as you swatted away the makeup brushes and jolted up from your chair. 

Alarm bells pealed in your head as you stared out at the stage.

What the hell was he doing? This wasn’t part of the performance. 

A wave of confusion had overtaken the arena as the faces of Domain’s members were blown up on the LCD backdrops. 

Satoru shook his head. “Something’s missing.”

“Missing?” Suguru raised a brow, but you caught the slight smile playing on his lips. “What do you mean missing? Did you lose something?”

Your head whipped to the crew around you, but none of them were scurrying about in panic. In fact, they were all smiling. At you. 

“Ohhhhh, I know!” Yu exclaimed, excitedly. “You forgot your lucky charm.”

Satoru grinned. “Exactly. Doesn’t seem right to end the tour without it by my side.” He turned to address the arena. “What do you all say? Want to see my lucky charm?”

Cheers filled the air.

Kento cleared his throat. “It’s not appropriate for us to leave and search for it. We’ll have to get someone to bring your charm here. Where did you leave it?”

Your frown turned into wide-eyed shock as Satoru turned and extended an arm towards the right wing, pointing.

At you.

“She’s right there.” His grin widened. “Come on out, sweetheart.”

You froze, the air emptying out your lungs. You felt a hand clap down on your shoulder, and found Shoko beside you. 

“You’re up, kacho-san,” she said, giving you a reassuring nod. “Don’t worry. It’s all scripted this time. Well, most of it anyway.”

Then she was steering you out into the lights and noise. To Satoru, who was running over to meet you. To take your hand in his and lead you to the centre of the stage where the rest of Domain were waiting.

The arena was going wild, but you were stuck in your stupor. A deer caught in the headlights. 

Satoru pushed his mouth piece away and leaned in next to your ear. 

“Breathe, baby,” he said, and squeezed your hand tightly. “Eyes on me. Let me show the world who I belong to.”

He didn’t let go as he addressed the arena. “Found her! Everyone say hello to my lucky charm. Isn’t she beautiful tonight?”

Delighted screams and cheers drowned the entire Tokyo Dome. Chanting followed, but this time, it was a different kind of chant.

“Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!…”

You gaped at the sea of light sticks. At Satoru as his head tipped back in laughter, overjoyed with the reaction. 

“Oh, I really want to,” he said. “But first, there’s something I need to get off my chest. Something I’m going to need your support for. You see, I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

Your heart stopped beating altogether. You couldn’t feel your legs, your body. You stared up at Satoru, and if it weren’t for the utter hysteria that descended upon the arena—the shrieks, the cries, the complete meltdown of the entire audience. If it weren’t for the tears streaming down your cheeks for the world to see, you would’ve believed you’d died right then and there.

Paralysed, speechless, you could only watch Satoru slowly lower down on one knee. 

“Baby. Sweetheart. Darling.” His gaze was fixed solely on you, those impossible blue eyes bright and filled with hope. The eyes you realised you hadn’t stopped searching for since the day you met him all those years ago. “My love. My home. Please stay with me. Your days, your nights, all the years to come, I want to see them with you. This one life I have, I want to live it with you. Please let me be yours. Marry me?”

It was cheesy, and it was everything. You choked out a sob. Then you were flinging your arms around him, nodding your head furiously.

“Yes.” You forgot your tears. The stage. The cheers soaring throughout the arena. Nothing existed but him. “Yes, you stupid, crazy idiot. I’ll marry you.”

Then he was kissing you. Satoru lifted you up, spinning you around in his arms, your lips meeting his once more as you came back down. 

In the next moment, the rest of Domain—Suguru, Kento, Yu—had surrounded you both, and you were swept up in a massive group hug. 

“Good luck. You’re stuck with him for good now. And us,” Suguru said as Kento clapped Satoru on the back and Yu announced to the audience, “She said yes!” as if it wasn’t already obvious. 

The opening to Limitless replayed. Throughout various parts of the stage, confetti was shooting out of professional grade blasters, raining all over the stage and the celebrating audience. The backdrops switched from yours and Satoru’s faces to shifting clouds. Then—

Clear blue skies.

The boys were taking their places for the final song. Satoru stole another peck on your cheek, and winked. “Now enjoy the show, sweetheart. This song’s for you, after all.”

You stood centerstage, watching Domain bring the tour to an end with their latest single. Watching the group you had grown together with, who had somehow become your family. Watching Satoru, singing his heart out. Laughed as he circled you, twirled you around, held your hand and raised it high in the air. 

And all the while, his eyes stayed only on you.

Satoru asked you again that night, quietly, while you were both alone and tangled up in the sheets, exhausted from the tour and from devouring each other once you got home. No spectacle here, no crowds, the only light a dim glow from the bedside lamp.

“Will you marry me?”

Nuzzled against his chest, you peered up at him. “I think the whole world knows the answer to that.”

He was smiling. He hadn’t stopped smiling since the concert. “I want it to be just us this time. And I want only you to hear this—“

He placed a kiss your forehead, and whispered, “You’re the dream I fell in love with that came true. I still can’t quite believe it. I don’t think I ever will.”

You held him tighter. “Yes. The answer is always yes.”

Of course, Satoru being Satoru, didn’t stop there. He asked again the next morning, then the next day, then everyday for the next three months. He asked when your custom-made ring arrived at your home from the jeweller—a humongous, glittering rock that blinded you the moment he opened the box and got down on one knee for the second time.

Your answer was always the same, and he knew it, but he merely told you he loved hearing your voice when you said it.

Another year passed like this. Of you and Satoru juggling work and the media and the public and your private lives. You both had talked about a wedding. Satoru, no surprise, wanted a castle and an orchestra and swans, and only twenty guests.

But both your schedules were so packed you never could agree on a date. Domain was recording a new album, Suguru found a new passion for motivational talks and put you in charge of managing his events, while Kento and Yu had launched a new clothing line and wanted you involved in it. 

Meanwhile, the movie Satoru had starred in was a box office hit. Offers for more movies came flooding in, and though hesitant at first because it meant he’d have to be apart from you while he filmed, Satoru eventually signed on to play the lead role in a highly anticipated action movie. 

You were worked to the bone, but you’d never been happier.

And finally, when your schedules did align and you both found a free week to spend together, Satoru dragged you straight to the city’s municipal office.

It was there that you officially became husband and wife. 

“Forget the wedding,” said Satoru. “I’m taking you somewhere no one can bother you but me.”

Now you were in the passenger seat of his sports car, driving up the winding mountain pass to the private onsen retreat he’d booked out so you both could be the only guests for the week. 

Sunglasses balanced on top of his head, Satoru had one hand on the steering wheel as he sang to a juvenile tune he’d just made up.

“My honey bunny, so sweet and yummy, divine and messy, I’ll lick her very—”

“Please don’t put that in the album.”

“Why not? I think it’ll be very popular.”

“Don’t you dare.”

He laughed, warm sunlight drawing golden lines on his face. “So another love song for my beautiful wife, then? About how every day I think I can’t fall any more in love, and find that I still do whenever I look at her.”

You couldn’t help the smile spreading on your lips. A smile for him. For the life he’d spent years chasing to have with you. For the peace you and him had carved out among the glamour and chaos of your careers. And for the years ahead, when the fame and glory days faded away, that he’d still be here, looking at you as how he did now.

As if reading your thoughts, Satoru reached to hold your hand in his. And like a promise, he said, “Because all I will always see is you.”

˙⋆✮ .✦ The End ✦. ✮⋆˙

a little something extra...

a/n: soooo i've actually written out the entire lyrics for domain's song, 'limitless'. >.< it's my first time writing a song, please expect it to be cheesy, but i thought i'd share it anyway to give a full picture of the story. so here it is:

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

Limitless

[Verse 1 – Satoru / Geto / Haibara (harmonies)]  I was fine just running blind, Living fast, leaving things behind.  You showed up, no warning sign, Turned my world to one of a kind. They call me dream, they call me divine, But I still reach for something mine. 

[Pre-Chorus – Satoru]  I run, I chase, I fall, I climb, Each step closer, one more time. No map, no end, it's by design, My eyes see only clear blue skies.

[Chorus – Satoru / Geto / Nanami + Haibara (harmonies)] I’m limitless, no boundaries, Gravity bends so easily.  I’m limitless, and through the noise,  The rush, the high,  Lives one voice, so right, my guide,  Saying I’ll never stand alone, it’s become my home. Every song I write, it’s you I find  You’re the heart in every line. 

[Verse 2 Rap – Nanami]  Huh, baby don’t worry, go on keep making that face,  One day you’ll turn around and find me matching your pace,  Look up, watch me, I’ll rearrange our stars back in place, I’m infinity and you’re my endless race. [Haibara]  Still can’t hear me, then I’ll shout Faith’s the thing that never doubts. [Nanami]  If the road to us is a grind, it’s fine, I’ll bend the time. I’ll hold up signs ’til you stop and say ‘you’re mine’.

[Pre-Chorus – Satoru] I run, I chase, I fall, I climb, Each step closer, one more time. No map, no end, it's by design, My eyes see only clear blue skies.

[Chorus – Satoru / Geto / Nanami + Haibara (harmonies)] I’m limitless, no boundaries, Gravity bends so easily. I’m limitless, and through the noise, The rush, the high, Lives one voice, so right, my guide, Saying I’ll never stand alone, it’s become my home. Every song I write, it’s you I find, You’re the heart in every line.

[Bridge – Geto + group harmonies / Satoru solo] [Geto + Group] Every dream has your face in sight, Every fear fades in your light.  [Satoru] If forever’s taking time, I will still be here for you to find.

[Final Chorus – Full group] I’m limitless, no boundaries, Gravity bends so easily. I’m limitless, I won’t let go, You’re the tide that pulls me close. I’m limitless, when you’re with me, I’m not alone, you are my home. Every song I write, it’s you I find, [Satoru] You’re the heart in every line.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

if you got to this point, i love you. thank you for sticking to the end with idol gojo and Domain! hope you enjoyed the performance, merchandise is still on sale outside the arena ;)

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

*** likes and reblogs make my day, but please do not repost this fic or use it with any form of AI. thank you <3

“A…a joke?”

In mild concern, the two of you can only watch as stoic, composed Yaga lets out what sounded like a strangled sob. Before whispering to another PR manager on-site, “Write a company statement.” 

“Oi-” Gojo pipes up, “Why would you need a company statement when I’m perfectly- user Fushidaddy type another pick-up line and I’m blocking you.”

The dark-haired man chokes through almost tears, “Just start writing already.”

You try to smooth things over from your seat right beside your best friend, this was not what you’d anticipated after Gojo had practically begged on his knees asking for you to join him in one of his Bubble lives. Then again, what else could you expect from anything to do with him? “Ah, it’s alright. I don’t mind-”

“I do.” 

Snowy brows furrowed, he’s leaning in closer to the camera to take in every traitorous word- 

satorusxkitten: okay but guys think ab it!! he’s rlly talented but no actor so it’s okay if he’s ass at pretending to not be a simp!! can u blame him??

“Blocked.”

P1BANG: took a shot every time he stares at her thinking he’s slick now I’m at the hospital (this live started 3 minutes ago)

“Blocked.”

Fushidaddy: Pretty girl, blink twice if you’re being held hostage x.

“Blocked and reported what the-” Gojo frowns glancing over at you from the corner of his eyes, (thinking he’s slick, thank you very much). Before catching the way you lean in dramatically to flutter your eyes- “Don’t you dare blink.”

As you’re bursting into ribbing laughter, so are the sheer amount of comments asking about you- and he can’t help but entertain the sneaking suspicion that his own viewers were here simply because of you.

At least, that’s why he would’ve kept watching.

Fushidaddy2: Put us out of this pining misery or end the live, kid.

“I thought I blocked you.”

“Okay then.” You clap your hands once to gain the room’s attention, slightly worried about the blood vessel about to burst near Yaga’s temple. “Satoru, I think you brought me here to do a Q n’ A, right?”

“Well yes…” Gojo’s grumbling underneath his breath - that was the initial plan, to finally introduce one of the most precious parts of him to the fandom. 

He just didn’t account for the possibility that everyone on the livestream would fall in love with you - when that was clearly supposed to be his job! “Alright- ask away, and no funny business. I’m looking at you, user Fushidaddy.”

sugu-rizzed: Are you single?

“How dare you-”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” You’re nudging the towering man right next to you, subtly moving his hand off of that treacherous block button. “Lighten up, Satoru—”

“Yes, ma’am. Correct, ma’am.”

What a sight it was. 

Honestly, you’re sure you hear at least several management staff gasp at just how easily you’d shut up their arguable star. Being the center of one of the fastest bands to sky-rocket into the k-pop world hadn’t made it any easier for an agent to pose authority over Gojo Satoru - Yaga was barely hanging on by a thread and he submitted at least a few resignation letters every week.

Once the on-set whispers break out, you’re squirming in your seat. Rattling off yet another question-

ge.akuge: what do you think about the allegations of him wearing wigs?

“Well-”

“Blocked.”

KunaLuvrr: does he wear wigs?

stanjutsu: will he wear wigs?

Fushidaddy3: Y’know I don’t wear wigs, baby, x. 

“I-”

“You- blocked.”

haibarabias: Did u know he was yapping about you non-stop on the last live?

You’re blinking in slight surprise, turning to Gojo - who’d now stuffed himself into his oversized designer hoodie until you could only make out the tips of his ears. His bright, burning red ears. “Really?” Turning to the feverishly nodding staff at his silence, “Really?”

One of the fresh-faced interns in charge of lighting tries to hold back a squeal, “Y-yeah! We tried to keep a tally of your name to edit on-screen but it went into…the triple…digits- eep!”

“E-hem.” Gojo cuts the newbie off with a slight glare, snitches. The whole lot. “I was just talking to them about what a boor you are and to be prepared-”

realistic.one: liar, you were giggling and kicking your feet the whole time-

“-which you would have known if you actually watched me.” Finishing off with relish, he’s mockingly glowering down at you. The perfect vision of a neglected best friend - if it wasn’t for the way that he was flushed all the way from his cheeks to the back of his neck, that is. 

And then your fingerpads reach out to pat the silky crown of his bangs, soothingly. “I do watch you, Toru. I must have missed that stream, sorry about that.”

He melts. And there’s tens of thousands to watch him.

“Y-yeah?” Gojo’s briefly snapping a scowl at the screen, already knowing that this particular clip of his voice breaking would be making rounds on the internet tomorrow. Crossing his arms with a huff, he acts like he isn’t nuzzling his head even closer for you to caress, “Tch, you make a shitty best friend, my star.”

Somewhere across the room, Yaga puts his head in his hands and sighs. 

sugu-rizzed: My star?? Guys is he…

CandyKento: that moment when you highkey ship them but realize bro has no game

sunflowerboy: Gojo-san fighting!!

Fushidaddy7: I could treat you better, girl x. 

torutoaster: wonder what her type is from our boys^^

It’s as if the room itself had hiked a few degrees in temperature, and you’re darting your eyes away from Gojo’s burning ones. From the staff that was snickering behind their hands, giving you knowing looks. 

Instead, choosing to distract yourself by answering that last question– “Hmm, my ideal type from Six Eyes, huh?”

“Hah- what a silly little question.” Your best friend cocks his head with a smirk, “Why- tell ‘em, my star. Who else has the visuals? The dance moves? The charisma? Of course, it’s-”

“Suguru.” You smile innocently, whilst the flashy idol next to you crumbles. “He’s such a sweetheart.”

returnofP1BANG: five more shots for that wet cat look he gave her

Fushidaddy9: Ouch (lol).

sugu-rizzed: F in the chat

CandyKento: f

sunflowerboy: F

Fushidaddy10: F

ge.akuge: F

“Tch- childish.” Gojo scoffs at the wave of that same letter flooding his comment section, he’s counting about twenty…before typing his own ‘F’ in there. 

Immediately reinvigorated, he’s stabbing a determined finger in the air. “But- but I have something that none of y’all and that stinky Suguru doesn’t have-” And it takes every ounce of will, every shred of shamelessness in his body to wrap two strong arms around you and crash you to his broad chest. Emulating all those hours he’s spent watching k-dramas with you, Gojo’s barking out. “-she’s mine!”

Fushidaddy14: Yeah. Your best friend. LMAO.

“Blocked-”

Masamichi Yaga handed in yet another resignation letter that very same night.

Which was likely why the livestream didn’t last too long after that little catastrophe- and it’s about a few hours later once you’d safely made it home with excuses of work the next day, and Gojo was lying wide awake on his phone, that it happens.

It is sent to him, by none other than Geto - the most unthinkable, unspeakable link to a fan-made YouTube video aptly titled ‘100 Gojo Satorus vs. trying not to make a fool of himself in front of his baddie best friend challenge (failed)”

Edited and clipping every single moment he’d completely n’ utterly destroyed his cool idol façade during the brief live. Every (fine, not-so-slick) glance your way, every blush, every voice crack.

Fuck.

In two seconds he’s sending Geto a paragraph of middle finger emojis, and in one he’s slowly downloading the video…for research purposes. 

.

.

.

As a celebrity hair stylist, Miwa Kasumi had never felt that she wasn’t paid enough - after all, nearly unlimited contact with her favorite idols and she gets to see her work come to life on stage? What could go wrong?

Well…she’s feeling her weary eyelid twitch just about the twelfth time she hears the same repeated meme audio blaring from Gojo Satoru’s phone. 

Headphone-less. On full volume. 

All on the set of one of the most important comeback shoots of this year, the much-anticipated music video for their single ‘Blue.’ Penned by none other than the giggling idiot that was her client. 

And it was only considering all her years of professionalism that she didn’t whack the phone out of his hands the way she’s been dying to for the past hour. “Gojo-san, you are quite the fan of that video, hm?”

Subtle cues- subtle cues!

But Gojo was never one for subtle cues, as she has the misfortune of learning. And he only blinks up from his padded seat in front of her, “Huh? Oh yes-” In fact, increasing the volume of the dramatically edited fan video - one of those crack compilations she had the guilty pleasure of watching before bed sometimes. 

But Gojo didn’t seem to be watching for the laughs, his twinkling sapphire eyes were only locked on one thing on-screen - you. 

Sighing at a short clip of you from the livestream a few days ago, grimacing at one of his bragging monologues. Giggling, he zooms in on you- “Isn’t she gorgeous–?”

“O-oh!” Now, introductions and love for artistry might be two of the main perks of working in such close proximity to idols - but who could forget the gossip. Immediately perking up, she’s setting down one of the curlers and working on fluffing up Gojo’s ethereal white hair for the camera. “Girlfriend, Gojo-san?”

“Not at all.” Dreamily, he’s taking a blatant screenshot of the zoomed-in visual of your face. A man in heaven. “Not. At. All.”

Huh? Maybe all celebrities were just eccentric. What was that one saying about never meeting your heroes? 

Well, it seems that the universe decided that Miwa hadn’t learned enough of her lesson just yet- which is why she’s startled by the swoosh–! of curtains being drawn back in the dressing room, and the heavy footsteps of none other than Gojo’s bandmates. 

Who could mistake them?

Geto Suguru, long inky hair tied back, slow strides almost predatory, is the first to reach the two - one of them shivering in rapt excitement, the other glued to his phone. “Oi- Satoru, they want you for your solo shot.”

Gojo grunts noncommittally, hands gripping his phone. “Hm-”

Irritation gripping the other’s tone, his best friend taps his feet. “Satoru.”

“Mm.”

“Satoru.” 

“…”

“You little-” 

It’s a damn miracle that the thin glass of Gojo’s phone screen doesn’t crack with how swiftly Geto’s snatching it from the other’s hands. Only to get a glimpse of the screen and have his mouth drop.

“Satoru…” 

“…Suguru.”

Pierced brows furrowing, Adam’s apple bobbing with a guffaw at the blatant screenshot of you displayed. Clearly taken from that one compilation video that he had sent the link to a few days ago. Their center gulps. “Satoru, what…the…f-”

“Gojo-san! Gojo-san–!”

The youngest - Haibara’s - sweet, sing-song voice dips through the tense dressing room as he stumbles in - all sunny smiles and the cutest bowl cut. Followed excruciatingly closely by a cameraman recording behind-the-scenes content, “Kento and I are done, so Director Shoko wants you on set now or she said she’ll do some violent things that can’t be said on camera~”

“Of course, of course– you should go, you strange little lecher- I mean, Satoru.” Geto waves the other over, “C’mere Yu, let your elder show you a little something.”

Gojo blanches, “No-”

“Oh? What is it–?”

Gripping onto Geto’s jacket, “No.”

Careful of the rolling camera, he’s mercilessly sidling up to the other and flashing the latest addition to Gojo’s photo album - that soft, slightly blurry screenshot of you. Simply smiling. “Oh.”

“‘Oh’ is right.” Geto’s smizing out such a cat-like grin at the camera- this was sure to have the internet talking. Maybe even screaming. And as the staff with the lens steps closer in curiosity, he’s swiftly covering the screen, “Let’s just say our Satoru is ah- quite the fan of our cute little fans’ creations.”

Haibara titters, “Enough that it’s filling up his phone storage-” Catching Gojo’s groan, ready to jump out of his seat- “Ah, my apologies, Gojo-san~”

Geto nods, “No no, he’s right.”

“He’s not.”

“I am?”

“And remember, kids—” The pierced man calls out, finger hovering over the glaring screen of the phone. 

Gojo gasps- “No-” Realizing. Shooting to his feet. “No no no-”

Registering the way his other best friend was giving particular attention to that bright, burning DELETE button. “-always help your friends in need.”

The scream that Gojo Satoru, most polished idol of the 21st century, lets off is devastated. 

Enough that the cameraman - watching each interaction like a hawk - jumps, enough that even ruthless Geto Suguru himself feels a semblance of slight regret. Almost turning his thumb over to click on the recycle bin before Gojo can cry himself hoarse- until he’s scrolling just an inch - an inch - along the full camera roll and finding…more…screenshots?

About 75,328 in his album, to be exact. Of you. 

He looks at Gojo Satoru - knees cradled in such a pitiful fetal position on the floor, whimpering at the loss of his prized screenshot. And he looks at the 75,328 screenshots. He looks back at Gojo. Then at the screenshots, all 75,328.

Then back at Gojo.

And Geto doesn’t even feel bad about the good kick he’s planting on the other’s back, “Get out.”

If the dressing room was a hellhole made to ruin Gojo’s life - Geto being the devil incarnate, of course - then being on set wasn’t any better. 

The long lens of Shoko’s famed camera stares him down like it knew exactly how he was acting minutes prior, and any false façade of coolness would easily break through. 

“Ugh…” Shoko’s crinkling her nose in slight distaste at the footage playing on her screen, motioning for the rest of the crew to start putting each prop back in place for a reshoot. 

Make-up airy, white bandages haphazardly falling from his eyes, surrounded by sparkling ivory decorations of stars; it was supposed to be something on theme with the song, something romantic, something that didn’t make her want to hack up her coffee in a bad way.

But she could feel her stomach churning already. Leveling a glare at Gojo that’s enough to make the much-taller man flinch- “You- if you can’t do the sparkly idol thing, just try looking at the camera and smiling. It’s all we need for the solo shot today.” Tapping her camera, “Look at the lens like you’d look at a lover.”

Voice octaves higher, “A-a lover?” 

His dignity was scarred! 

“You got this, Gojo-san! Twentieth try’s the charm–!” Haibara’s voice echoes. “Ah- or was this the thirtieth…somewhere along the line I lost count.”

“Thirty-seventh.” Nanami helpfully supplies.

His reputation as a reliable elder ruined!

“Satoru, good luck! Geto called me- I don’t know why but um, good luck!”

He didn’t call himself the king of idols for nothing!

In a split-second, Gojo perks at the slightly-metallic sound of your voice through the other end of the line. Breath hitched, flashing irises widened- it doesn’t take him even a nanosecond to snap his head towards where Geto was holding his phone up for the sound to project.

Your name flashing on the caller ID, Geto’s smile priggish at the reaction wrenched out of his best friend. 

And Gojo can’t help but let the mere sound of your voice make him smile—

“There we go- that’s the shot! That’s the shot.”

The music video is edited and uploaded only a few weeks later, that behind-the-scenes following hastily afterwards. 

It was a hit, of course, as every management and billboard had already predicted it would be. But what was unpredictable were the eagle-eyed comments-

SIX EYES - ‘BLUE’ MV

torutoaster: KYAAA THEY REALLY FED US LOOK AT HOW OUR TORU AND SUGU LOOOKKK

ryomichael: not even a satoru bias but…wow…his visuals…the way he looked at the camera made my heart just go…wow

zbstan: stream this song (and esp Gojo’s bridge) for clear skin guys!!

SIX EYES - ‘BLUE’ MV Behind [All]

getosuggs: Geto and Haibara giggling at Gojo’s phone screen…wonder what they were looking at…

torutoaster: wonder why the filming of toru’s solo shot was muted?? strange but as long as we get more content of my bias oh well^^

sugu-rizzed: @torutoaster I think because they were on a call? Oooo imagine if it was Gojo’s best friend from the livestream…

mahitoe: @sugu-rizzed smh delulu shippers

zbstan: @mahitoe STFU look at that caller ID ik they tried to blur it but like there was an anonymous hair stylist on set who said it was so GUYS IT COULD BE-

Fushidaddy17: I would’ve had no problem looking cool for her aha x.

.

.

.

“Takada-chan! Takada-ch-AAAAAAN–!”

Honestly, what a woman to be able to smile politely in the face of a big, beefy high schooler ripping his shirt off from the stands of the stadium. The Idol Star Athletics Championships were always quite rambunctious considering the star-studded players, especially this year. 

All lined up in their groups, donning flashy colored tracksuits. 

And as the boy starts crying, Geto winces–looking back at their own section of fans invited to attend the annual celebrity sports tournament. Some squealing at the feeling of Geto’s stare, some waving banners hysterically - but thank goodness that none were as bad as-

“MY STAAAAR–!”

Geto takes that back very quickly.

Deadpan, exhausted- the leader of Six Eyes is turning to stare down their infamous center, the exact one who’d been hogging every headline for the past few weeks for his exact antics with you. “Satoru…what are you doing?”

Ignoring him for your figure seated at the very front row–“MY STAR, YOU BETTER CHEER FOR ME.” You pretend not to hear him as he waves frantically, and Geto reaches over to tug Gojo back in line. “Oi- OIII, DON’T LOOK AT NANAMI LOOK AT ME!”

On second thought, he backs away into another group’s line. 

You weren’t the only one looking at him now- so were the announcers. Seasoned entertainers who’ve probably never seen a scene in all their years, “Aaaand over in this row we have Six Eyes. Their center - that Gojo boy - seems to be a little preoccupied, no?”

“With the girl? Oh, when is he not? Have you seen the clips from that livestream?”

“Ahh–you know my wife showed me and-” Seemingly catching the eye of whatever higher-up, or maybe the way that Yaga was swooning in his bench as if he was about to faint right then and there. “Ehem- anyways, welcome all to this year’s The Idol Star Athletics Championships–!”

It goes off without a hitch. 

Well, as much as it could with Gojo Satoru being in attendance. 

Which meant having to wrangle him back by the scruff of his neck every time he meandered off to the shrieking stands to ask you to pet his tired head - “for good luck.”

Which meant having him blow kisses to the stands suspiciously near you as he dribbled expertly during the basketball event, their team tied with yet another idol group.

With only a few seconds on the clock, every eye glued to his sprinting figure - breath stilling just as soon as he does near the netted hoop. Gojo had jumped, and pointed straight at your figure—“This one’s for my star.”

Before he swung. 

And…

…missed.

But that was all water under the bridge.

It didn’t matter that it was a failure recorded in 4K on hundreds of cameras, it didn’t matter that you’d been the one laughing the most while watching his precious shot completely miss the hoop and bounce sadly on the floor. 

It didn’t matter that his ears were still burning red from embarrassment by the last leg of the tournament - the track-and-field events. 

Geto had already won the gold medal in archery, Haibara with silver in football, and even woe-is-me Nanami had snagged a silver in fencing. 

And this time, this year’s new addition - one of those borrowed item races you’d play in middle school, those ones where he’d have to run to a box and pick out something silly to bring over the finish line - was about to be his turn. 

“Ready…”

Gojo’s steadying into position, making sure his back flexed just right so that you’d be able to see from the stands. And if the way that Nanami sighed was anything to go by then it was working, right? 

“Set…”

Azure eyes locked on the small wooden box that loomed a few yards in front of him.

“Go!”

It’s a blur- one moment his expensive designer sneakers touch the ground, and the next he’s one of the first idols to run over to the box. Fighting to stick his hand inside, Gojo’s sure he elbows someone’s dolled-up face to grab the first slip of paper he can. 

Tugging it out with a grin, the neat typing stares back at him mockingly—‘Someone you love.’

Fuck.

Why did it have to be this one?

The announcer’s booming baritone breaks through- “What’s this? Six Eyes’ Gojo seems to have stalled? What could that paper say?”

“Run!” Geto’s voice calls over the chaos of countless other artists bee-lining towards their own missions, their own ‘item.’ He’s waving at Gojo impatiently, “Run, you fool-” 

“Gojo-san, you got this–!”

In a confused hurry, he’s darting a look down at the staff manning the box - some older, dryly deadpan man who merely takes a peek at his slip of paper and gives a thumbs up. And Gojo could have sworn he smirks.

Well.

“Oh- oh, he’s running.” Both hosts gripping onto the edges of their tables, “The legs on that boy- Gojo Satoru is overtaking his peers easily- ah, we promise we’re not biased.”

Yaga and the rest of his overworked PR team would have to forgive Gojo for this later- but his legs are turning towards your direction in an instant, just as they always have. Running. Sprinting. 

“Gojo- Gojo! Is it true you two eloped?”

“An insider source is saying that your best friend was present on-set of Blue- any comment?”

“Are you two dating?”

It’s like he’s running through a tunnel where the only thing he can see is you at the end. Announcers’ voices cotton in his mind- “Oh, we think we know where this is going, ladies and gentlemen.” The only voice his popped ears can hear are yours-

“S-Satoru–!” You’re shrieking, nearly as loud as the throng of fans and cameras surrounding you. Clawing down his beefy upper bicep as your best friend leans his long torso over the barrier of the stands and throws you into an easy princess carry, “Are you crazy-”

“Nah, we’re gonna win, my star.” He has his arms steady, jaw clicking - and you can’t help but feel his strength thrum gently in his arms. Those lucky to be near enough for the entire ordeal would later claim to tabloids that they’d never seen Gojo Satoru this serious.

This…responsible when he’s carefully striding with you in his hold - an easy first place running past the finish line. 

Stars in his eyes, mouth turned up into a smile that twitched when he gazed down at your own. Wantingly. 

But he only hugged you in thanks, and took your half-joking swats with a smile. 

They couldn’t quite blatantly show the cameras what Gojo’s little paper had required him to bring, but you got to keep Gojo’s gold medal after the tournament - it was always meant for you, anyway.

And he gets an earful from Yaga, Geto, Haibara (though that was more grumbling about why those last two weren’t the ones carried like a pretty princess instead), and a few articles speculating your relationship, and a Twitter timeline having a complete meltdown over clips of his race. 

A video of those particular few seconds with you in his arms racked up a solid few million views in only a few hours since it was posted- but honestly, one million of those views might just be from him alone.

@torutoaster: THE WAYYYY HE CARRIED HER OMG- GOD I SEE WHAT YOU’VE DONE FOR OTHERS-

@CandyKento: did anyone watch the isacs? no but i am soooo curious what gojo’s item was-

@chorusito replying to @CandyKento: no but to bring his ehem ehem- “best friend” it has to be something scandalous right~

@CandyKento replying to @chorusito: right??

@mahitoe replying to @chorusito: lmfao idols can’t date. you guys cant handle anything it was obvs just a friend or something. delulu. 

@sugurusshampoobottle replying to @mahitoe: FIGHT ME.

@satorusxkitten: gojo and geto’s arms are so big!! fuck!! 

@sugu-rizzed: That staff-member manning the box saw what the paper said oh what I would pay to know…

@fiendingforsixeyes: AHHHH I BET IT WAS SOMETHING OR SMTH HE LOVED IK U GOJO U LOVERBOY

@Fushidaddy33: She would’ve looked better in my arms tbh…

Gojo reports that last account.

.

.

.

“So, who do you think is the cutest from Six Eyes?”

“Me.”

“And who do you think is the best dancer?”

“Me.”

“The most romantic?”

“Ah…” Regular interviews could be tedious - but an interview with a lie detector strapped to you somehow surpassed even the ninth chamber of hell. And Gojo thinks that anyone would shrink under the beady, unwavering gaze of the hostess interrogating- ah, interviewing him right now.

Not a hair out of place, not a lie she wouldn’t be able to catch.

Damn that management for signing him up for one of those lie detection interviews - part of him already felt that this was punishment for rejecting Yaga’s seventh resignation letter since the chaos of the Idol Star Athletics Championships.

And damn Geto for goading him into going first.

The rest of the group watch leisurely from their comfort of a sofa away from the spotlight - thankfully lie detector-less for now - tittering as their bandmate cowers. Gulping through a slightly-wobbly grin, “Me. I’m the most romantic.”

Nodding as the polygraph examiner gives the thumbs up for truth.

“Not quite humble, but quite honest aren’t you, Mister Gojo?”

Gojo’s cracking his neck in his uncomfortable seat, the sooner he can get this over with, the better. Still strapped with leather buckles, “I think you’ll find that I’m very honest about things I truly feel.”

Geto sputters through faux coughs- “Pfft– Liar.”

Nanami looks away- murmuring just loud enough for the microphone to pick up, “Ehem…fibber.”

And Haibara? Haibara merely snaps his fingers in realization- “Aaaah–! I see, they’re calling you a ‘liar’, Gojo-san, because you aren’t honest about your feelings towards-”

“Ah ah!” He tries to make a motion to shut up, but only ends up rocking the chair from side-to-side. And Gojo already knew he was done for the very second he’s catching the hostess’s eyes gleam at this juicy morsel of information.

“Well, I actually did have…” Trailing off, she’s shuffling through her pack of pre-written questions. Painted nails fingering one at the very back that she seemed to have stowed away for when the interviews took a particular turn, she clears her throat. Saying your name-

“Impressively high heart rate.” The examiner drones out, bushy brows raising at what his screen flashed. Just from hearing your name.

As his self-proclaimed friends cackle - those traitors - the hostess shows off her pearly smile, “Mister Gojo, is it true that she’s your best friend?”

Gojo shifts slightly, “Very true.” Truth.

“And she is very beautiful- correct?”

“Very true.” Truth.

“And smart?”

“Very true-” Truth.

“And you’re in love with her?”

“Very tr-” He gasps, “Wait no-”

To which the older lady cocks her head in genuine confusion, “Despite all the shipping- well, it’s all everyone’s been talking about online these days- you’ve never done anything? You don’t have feelings for her, young man?”

“N…no.” 

Geto raises his hand in a split-second, almost as if he was some model student in a classroom. “You’re mistaken, my lady, he doesn’t have feelings for her. He has a lot of feelings for her-”

“Suguru!”

The final nail on Gojo’s coffin might just have been the way the polygraph examiner tries - and fails - to keep a largely neutral face. Instead raising his fist in the air, into a blatant thumbs down, next word tinged in amusement. “Lie.”

Gojo fights against the belts tied to his wrist, monitoring his heartbeat, his deception. “It’s faulty, I tell you- faulty. Did you know that polygraphs are actually only 80% accurate and–”

“So you honestly wouldn’t mind if your best friend showed up with a fresh new boyfriend to introduce to you?”

“-I would rather die.”

It’s silence.

Gojo basking in the shock of what he’d just blurted out, everyone else squinting at the overtly clear thumbs up that the examiner was gesturing. A truth. Trying to see whether it would change shape whether they stared hard enough.

Clearing her throat, their seasoned hostess is the first to speak- “Ah- well, that was certainly, um.” Shuffling her cards, she stares at the rest of Six Eyes in bewilderment and they stare in bewilderment right back. 

Muttering, “I wish my husband was more like that- anyways.” She leans in close to Gojo, “So if I showed you…” Waving her hand at a few of the tech specialists in charge of the projector behind him, “-this picture with a particular known tattoo artist?”

It wasn’t even a question.

And a damn good thing it wasn’t, because as soon as the screen behind Gojo lights up with a paparazzi shot - one of you, from years and years ago when you were dating that damn tch- asshole Ryomen Sukuna. All bathed in the light of the city at night, pretty hands in his, smile blinding - oh-so-gorgeous that he feels his heart stop.

Literally.

There’s a slight, sharp beeeeep–! that emanates from the lie detector—

Geto stands, “Satoru, what-”

“Gojo-san, are you okay-”

“I know CPR.” Hell, even Nanami was looking on with some degree of concern, “But I wouldn’t do it on you, no offense.”

As the examiner fiddles with his contraption, the hostess is the one to wonder whether she should call over the medical personnel in the studio. Reaching over her lil’ interrogation table to tap Gojo’s pale hand lightly- “U-uh, Mister Gojo-”

Gojo gasps- “Huh? Oh yeah-” 

The steady rhythm of his pulse beeps once more on the monitor, albeit it slightly faster than before after he’s setting his eyes on you. After his poor, pathetic heart had skipped a beat just at the mere sight of you. 

“He’s ruining the picture.” Gojo’s nose bridge wrinkles, gaze straying back to your smile the way an anchor follows a ship to see. No matter how far and deep they may go. The examiner signs out ‘truth’ as the other man continues, “Can you crop the buffoon out and give me five printed copies of that photo, please?”

“Eh?”

“Eh?”

“Gojo-san, eh?”

Nanami rubs his aching temples, “This is why I’d never give him CPR.”

That particular episode easily became one of the most watched of the season. 

Six Eyes’ Gojo Satoru Takes a Lie Detector Test | Heart-stopping Revelations!

torutoaster: WHAT THE FUCK WHEN THEY SAID HEART-STOPPING THEY MEANT IT FRFR-

eathaibara: the pure aura to have your heartbeat stop then the first thing you do is simp over your girl.

100menvsmpreg: @eathaibara wait so are they actually dating?

fluffykento: @100menvsmpreg worse

jennyk10: @100menvsmpreg I meannn-

ButterSixKpop: Need me a real freak like this.

CandyKento: kento is so real ngl

getosuggs: @CandyKento the only thing we love more than satoru is bullying satoru

fiendingforsixeyes: LMAO GUYS HAVE YOU SEEN THAT PERSON GOIN’ ON RANTS UNDER SUKUNA’S INSTA-

Gojo didn’t read these comments, unfortunately, or see any of the edits they were making of him on tiktok. He was too busy spamming comments of his own on Sukuna’s official instagram. 

Very colorfully-worded ones. 

.

.

.

“What’s your name?”

“Gojo da strongest.”

“What are you drawing?”

“A star.”

For an eight-year-old, Gojo thinks you had the most pensive expression on your face after that particular answer. Brows scrunched cutely, and your tongue sticking slightly between missing teeth- and it was alright, Gojo wasn’t a stranger to the staring.

He knew how to handle all the cooing from aunties at the marketplace, he was used to all the praises for being the fastest kid in all of primary school. 

So surely the great, wise, nine-year-old Gojo Satoru could give a fellow classmate as much time as you needed to muster up the very best compliment-

“It’s kinda ugly.”

“Wha- huh?” How dare you- Gojo’s pouting, snowy brows scrunching until you’re giggling. “My star is not ugly.” Sticking a thumb proudly between his puffed-up chest, “And I should know because I’m going to be a star.”

You’re nodding, seriously. “Mm, that’s good.” 

And that makes him falter- just a bit, because true superstars never falter. “Y-you think so?” Okay, maybe they falter a bit. But in Gojo’s defense, no one had ever taken his little daydream so seriously, “You don’t think it’s stupid? That I can’t go up on stage?”

“No, why would it be?” Oh. You’re tapping his smudged crayon drawing, “But that’s still an ugly star.”

Stomping, “Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is…” He looks at you - in all you sparkly humor - then back at his fifteen-pointed star. He looks at you, then back at his brown-colored star for “artistic purposes.” He looks at you, then back at his star with a spotty face on it because it reminded him of Patrick Star.  He looks at you and-

“Fine…”

“Let me teach you how to draw an actual star.” You’re stumbling over your words a little, and it offends the great Gojo Satoru that he should be taught by such a child like you, a year younger. 

But he does have to admit that you drew pretty nice stars. 

Crossing his arms with a pout, “Fine then- teach me how to draw stars-” And the grin breaking your tiny face was too bright, too pretty. Suddenly the classroom is too humid, and he’s scrambling for something - anything - to throw back in your face. “-star.”

“‘Star’, huh?” But you only smile, “I like that.”

Only to have it thrown back in his. 

In a way he’s remembering nearly two decades later, your hand in his, your mouth near his earpiece. Quieter than the producers screaming in his ears, but louder than his very own racing heartbeat.

“Take it easy, Satoru.” You’re humming, over the velvety-smooth voice of the MAMA award announcer. The one that was ecstatically saying the name of the very band that Gojo might just have forgotten he was a part of the moment your hands wound ‘round him. 

You lift up his dark blindfold, part of his outfit for the day. “Go up, you fool.”

It wasn’t every day that Six Eyes won a MAMA grand prize, and it also wasn’t every day that the best friend he’d begged to be let in as the group’s honorary plus one (also the very same best friend he’d been in love with since he knew what love was) was in his arms like this.

But you’d been in them when after he’d drawn the first star all those years back that you’d deemed ‘acceptable.’ You’d been in them when he decided to take up dancing lessons in middle school, waiting all those hours after dark to walk back home with him. You’d been in them when he entered high school and told you he’d be a trainee slaving the days away in some dingy company basement. You’d been in them even tighter when they debuted. 

And you’d been in them the very second their name had been announced as artist of the year.

In front of all those cameras. All those gasping audiences.

And Geto who thumps him heartily on the back, “Get a room later, lovebirds- if Yaga doesn’t kill you that is.”

“Come on, Gojo-san, we have to go up for our award–!”

Nanami flashes you what you swear was a slight smile, “I am happy for you.” Before frowning at a shining-eyed Gojo, “Not quite for you, though.”

“Aww Nanamin, you love me~”

“O-kaaay-” Once the 6’4 mess of limbs had finally set you free, Geto was pushing them all to climb up the stage. In time with the blasting background music of their very own Blue, “Let’s have the aneurysms when we’re on stage.”

But what Gojo had on-stage wasn’t anything to make Yaga wish to retire, or to have Nanami’s pounding migraine throb harder. It was a single, sliding tear - and if the lights glaring down on them were bright enough that no one could tell for sure, then all was well with him.

“To our fans, our family-” Gojo’s starting off into the mic in the middle, deep tone dry and hoarse, metal award cool in his hands. He’s looking at you. “-and my star, this one’s for you.”

It’s all. 

And later they’d write articles about the hug, the speech, and what it means that you’re his ‘star’ - but for now, that was for Gojo to know. And for him to step away from the booming mic, letting Geto take his place with much more eloquent words; knowing that in future interviews they’d joke about all the speeches that they had planned.

That Gojo had planned in particular, but nothing came out just right. 

Later, he would also wonder why he waited so long - when you were always there in the audience, clapping louder as if it was just for him. 

And your best friend mouths—all bedazzled in his dangling earrings, white suit starkly handsome. “Meet me after the show.”

That very same clip is made into a gif that gets replayed about twelve million times before the award show actually ends. 

.

.

.

“O-oh fuck-” Your tongue lolls out until it’s hitting midway down your chin, mouth watering with every curly swipe n’ prod of Gojo’s tastebuds. 

His nose hits the edge of your treacly cunt and he whines, watchin’ the cute way your pupils roll allll the way to the back. The front of your chest polishing with a few wads of saliva that he can’t lick up right now- no.

Not when his mouth was already so occupied.

All it took was a single step - a single step - inside Gojo’s personal dressing room after the MAMAs, before he’d crashed your lips against his in a way he’d just been dying to do.

Folding you easily over the armrest of the fluffy pink sofa, door locked, sparkly dress hiked up. Gojo hadn’t even bothered to take off your flimsy panties before he’d started making out with your sweet, sweet pussy from behind.

Lavishing his tongue between the crevices of your cunt like he was a man parched- “Fuck, my star.” With your underwear just pushed to the side and his throat vibrating with a guttural groan once he’s feeling your tight, cozy hole clench ‘round his tastebuds.“Fuck- s’all I want-”

“A-are you seriously- ngh–!” And you couldn’t believe anything your hazed mind was telling you right now - not of those familiar lyrics, and not of the smooth, frigid brush of something metallic studding just the end of Gojo’s tongue. “-quoting your song right now?”

“Mmm– can’t help it. Wrote it just for you y’know…” Voice just a bit hitched, just a bit raspy. 

There was something in it that made you oh-so-much wetter, and Gojo’s summer blue eyes flash as he’s taking in the sappy slick gluing your shivering thighs together. 

“Sh-shit.” Gurgling out the candied taste of you, you were dripping all down his tongue. He’s pulling you close with a hand stuck on your hip, letting your slick splash at the bottom of his throat- and it still wasn’t enough. 

“Shit, my star.” His usual lip gloss smeared all over your pussy, Gojo takes the time to lean in and lick it all clean off. Before pursing his lips to once more spit—“Shit-”

He didn’t know what to say.

Your pretty pussy had him speechless, and it’s a damn miracle that he’s not tearing that suit off of his body. Stained all down the front with a snail-trail of your sappy juices-

“Need- this-” Once his heavy fabric strikes the floor, Gojo’s inching even closer in his kneeling position. Thick fingers slide-slide-sliiiiding teasingly between your swollen folds, before tugging on your poor panties. “-off.”

Ripping.

And his little prize is now finding a home somewhere inside his pocket for later, but right now Gojo has to stop himself from fucking salivating as you’re exposed for him.

It takes one kiss before he pants- “Oh my god.” 

And another- “O-oh fuck- oh my god.”

Fully shoving his face between your legs and letting you shiver at the feeling of his bejewelled earrings. That sunken in. 

Flattened tongue slapping down between your driveling slit, Gojo takes his agonizing time lapping up every inch n’ cranny you have. “My star—” Humming almost drunkenly, his pointed muscle swerves between the insides of your pussylips. 

“F-fuuuck–!” Just where you were most sensitive, Gojo lets the stubbed piercing on his tongue slip inside your hole and streeeeetch you out. Slipping out to draw a wet, sickly sweet star– “Since when did you have a- nghh- a tongue piercing, Toru?”

The first answer you’re getting is a sharp swat on your pussy, “Mmm- ever since you dated that fucking bastard with a tongue piercing.” Sukuna. Gojo croons out, more honest than he would’ve usually been. “Never put it in but…I got it because I thought it was your hah- type.”

Another smack!

Another squeezing inch of his pierced tongue trying to fuck into your entrance, he’s impatient. He’s throbbing in his pants with every tiny clench of your gooey insides, “Got buffer, too- cooler.”

“Oh my…god- your tongue, it’s- hck! going in-” Crying out through whines.

“Wrote so many songs for you, my star–” He’s drawling out, and you can feel the scorching breeze of his hot breath. The way that Gojo’s parting his lips even wider to let his tongue glue against your cunt, grinding all the way inside- “Well- heh- not for her, but…”

You’re still hypnotized by the sensual massage of his ridged taste buds rubbin’ across the front of your dripping pussy. 

So much so that the lecherous sluuuurp–! drawn out into the claggy air almost shocks you. Your cunt’s letting off the most sexual noises once Gojo’s dragging up a hand to tease your wet clit. “-but I’ll write a song for her as well.”

His metal rings are just sparkling with coats of slick, and your best friend doesn’t waste even a second latching onto your sensitive nub. Dexterous fingers drawing cute circles over and over that have your hips lurching off of the sofa- 

“Please- ngh- pleeease-” Your head throws backwards, legs already starting to quake at the utter pressure of having his fingers on your clit. Tongue inside your pussy. 

So lengthy that the slimy tip of it mazes between your walls, and Gojo’s purposefully stirrin’ around your insides with the icy edge of his piercing. Chin rubbing all red with friction as he’s leaning in even closer to dig the muscle of his tongue into your sweetest spots, “Yeah- yeah n’ I’ll have her sing-” Another hand this time, another finger - pushin’ deeply inside you. And the syrupy sound is enough to make him close in on the side of the couch and rut- “-lead…h-heh.”

And if you thought being fucked into the cushy surface by Gojo’s tongue was making your head spin, then you’re being driven positively mad by the wild lashes of his fingertips. 

Two ringed fingers fighting for space right along with his sticky tongue, Gojo glues the thick crowns of his digits to the top of your g-spot and watches as you shrill. “All the reading paid off, hmm–?”

“Y-you read about this?” You’re blinking through your tears, mouth dangling open once he’s pulling back. All the way to the rotund tips of his fingers- and slamming right down to press on your favorite nerves like a button. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck- just for- for me?”

“You don’t know what I’d do for you, my star.” And it would sound sweet coming from your usual best friend. 

But Gojo right now looked feral - pale eyes half-lidded, hair unruly, light make-up replaced by slimy oodles of your slick. Worn like a badge of honor, he’s gnawing down on your outer pussy, voice turning into something breathy. Octaves higher. “Noooo fucking idea what I’d do.”

Gripping onto the dampening covers of the sofa, you’re bucking animalistically like you don’t know whether you want to pull away or grind back down for more, more, more. Yelping, “T-Toru-!”

“No- no no no- come back.” Gojo panics, beefy arms wrapped enough around your body to haaaul you backwards. 

And when that wasn’t far enough, Gojo’s lust-fogged mind tugs off the blindfold still looped ‘round his neck. Tightly restraining one over your thigh and manhandling you deeper onto his face-

“Sh-shiiit, Satoru–”

“Fuck- haven’t had anything so sweet- so addictive, my star.” He’s murmuring into your pussy, knuckles getting sloppier with all the spanks against the front of your cunt. Tongue lurching in n’ out until his jaw was sore and raw with all the movement- but he’s still rummaging his muscle along your insides. 

Gojo’s eating you out like a man lacking a proper meal for eons, and you swear you could feel the way his Adam’s apple bob with each heavy gulp of your saccharine slick. “N’ now I don’t think I can- haaaah- live without your sweet pussy on my face, sweetheart.”

The furniture creaks with every bump of his ravenous hips against the sofa, because Gojo didn’t even want to spare a single handle to jerk himself off.

Not when he could target the throbbing nub of your clit, rolling over it until the harsh pleasure makes you squeeeal. “Don’t have to- don’t- ngh-”

“D’you think so?” That overeager thumb latched to your clit does a quick circular motion that renders your mouth drier than the Sahara. Swooping. Pressing down. “Really really th-think I can?”

“Yes- fuck- yes-” Whining, back arching into such a perfect curve. “Just make me cum, Satoru-”

“Yes, ma’am.” Gojo huffs out a cloud of breath, long lashes fluttering. The rapid thump-thump-thumps of his two fingers burrowing into your g-spot hasten, “But only if you mmmm– say my name.”

“Satoru.”

“Louder?”

“Satoru.”

With your wailing tone knocking off each corner of the wall, it’s like he’s rattling off all the unspeakable dreams he’s had of you. “Thennn– spit in my mouth?”

Almost like he’s testing it out- and you’re snapping your head over your shoulder. Not knowing whether to give him a piece of whatever’s left of your mind, or whether you would spit in his mouth. 

But you didn’t need to wrack your pretty brain over it any time soon.

Because Gojo’s shaking his bleary head, “Hmm- guess you already have, though- heh.” Partially-closed eyes locked onto your agape cunt every time you’re suckin’ his tongue in- and it’s only then that you realize he’s talking to your pussy. 

Letting your pussy spit out wads of juices that slip n’ slide down his throat, that get fucked back in by his relentless mouth.

Your hands grip the couch, “S-stop teasing– please, m’so close.”

“And then finally—” The tender edges of his fingers scrape your sweet spots in that strangely swooping motion that makes your toes curl restlessly. Dragging it oooon with his lilted bass, “-spell this out, my star?”

Your thighs twitch, the semicircles he’s drawin’ on your g-spot taking the formation of an ‘S’. Then an ‘A’-

“Sa-sa-”

“You got it. You got it, sweetheart.”

With the probin’ deepness of his fingers, he’s flicking his fingertips until your vision flashes white. ‘T’, your favorite dragged-out ‘O’ that makes his pierced tongue swoop in tiny circles, too. “Sato-” 

You knew where this was going. Faster. Harder.

You knew, and yet, you’re still letting him finish off a soppy ‘R’ and ‘U’ - branded in big capital letters from the gooey, heated insides of your pussy until you’re finishing off, too. “Satoru- Satoru. M’cumming, oh fuck, m’cumming…ngh.”

With a slight, stiled sob, you’re being run over by your high - just in time for Gojo to twist the orbed piercing on his tongue over in a S-A-T-O-R-U as well. Sloppily salivating down the sides of your slit, your thighs trickle with every ounce of sap you’re spraying out. 

Whimpering, deep into the cavern of his mouth- “Sh-shit-” Gojo’s hissing in that airy tone of his, feeling hot wetness seeping into his pants the very second you’re cumming - he is, too. 

And yet, the only thing he can think about is dragging out your high. 

To strike the bruised n’ battered areas of your walls until your thighs are shaking with every peak of your orgasm, mouth slobbering everywhere and anywhere.

From the pearly spatters of slick sheening your legs, to the pulsing top of your clit. Fucking and fucking your quivering entrance until your body feels all raw and sizzling. Every thrust of his fat, velvety tongue makes your pupils whirl stupidly in the whites of your eyes. “Sh-shit- nghhh- shit.”

And it takes him such a long time to let go of you - especially when he’s this drunk on your pussy. 

Pulling back with a final push of his piercing on top of your clit, and the loudest squeeelch—!

“H-heheh.” Gojo whispers against your pussy and you mewl, falling onto your elbows over the cushions of the sofa. 

Wearily, you look over your shoulder to take a good, solid look at him - only to feel your heart stutter at the utter grin on his face. Dopey. Glittered with slick. It beads down your best friend’s sharp jawline as he speaks, “Replaced my lipgloss- heh.” He cocks his head to the side, sapphire eyes fluttering priggishly. “Did I ever tell you that was my first time? Been savin’ myself for you, my star…”

Your mouth drops open at his words.

Oh.

Oh.

You weren’t making it out of this alive. 

Within a few bats of your teary lashes, Gojo has you pushed onto your back on top of the springy cushions. His towering form hovering over you-

Pinkish tongue snagging at the end of one glistening lip, “You should know…I’ve never done this before either.” He shivers, top layers shrugged off into a pile, golden clasps of his pants unbuttoned—pop! pop! pop!

With your stringy panties pulled out of his trousers, n’ the rest pushed down until he’d sexily bare in front of you. You can’t tear your widened eyes away as Gojo wraps your underwear ‘round his thick, bulging cock and jerks.

And fuck- did it make your mouth water.

Oh, fuck.

Because Gojo was just so big - in every sense.

From the width of his towering shoulders, all chiseled with bouncy pecs. To the way he was so ripped with lean muscle that you couldn’t stop imagining how it’d feel to have them pressed down against you. 

A feverish blush drifts down the back of his neck, alllll the way down between his pale happy trail. And right up to the fat, pinkened globe of his cock - all heavy and long. So, so long that it had your thighs squeezing in both fear and anticipation. 

You breathe, “Y-you’re so…”

Gojo gnaws down on his bottom lip with a moan, “Mm- yeah, tell me, sweetheart.” Vein-covered fist flying up and down his shaft, the rub of your panties was just so delicious that he’s splurging out a thick wad of precum straight down your slit. “Tell me- tell me.”

“So big.” You’re wondering where he even hid something like that.

Making such a mess. 

And he’s made a mess before too - cumming in his pants just from eating you out. So your cunt was being soaked with a few wires of his ivory sap. 

Being pushed in the very second Gojo slouches over your body and slaps his thick mushroom tip between your pussylips. Rutting his sloppy hips without even realizing-

“You don’t think it’s weird, my star?” Head hunched, white bangs covering his eyesight. The tone in his voice is thick with something primal, “How I was- haaaah-” And so was his cadence, sandwiching between your soppy folds back n’ forth back n’ forth. “-fisting my cock to the thought of my ngh- pretty lil’ best friend for yeeeears?”

Dragging it out. 

Just aaaaaching with a particularly sensual slide of his vein-covered shaft down your cunt, “Just aaaaching.” The knobbled top of his length slips against your oversaturated pussy and plugs up your hole. Hitting it with a damp plop! “For one taste- for anything.”

Your hands claw up to the tufts of his soft hair, pulling and it makes his cock twitch. “Want it in. Please, Satoru?” 

“A-are you sure I- hah-” And fuck- his eyes gape as he looks down between your cute, shivering legs. Marvelling at the sheer size difference between the plump girth of his cockhead, and your tight hole. “If it’s too much, I can just put the tip- oh, fuck.”

But you were impatient, and you’re wrapping your legs ‘round his toned waist to tug him closer. Deeper. Inside. 

To feel the tender underside of his length scrape your walls, each n’ every zig-zagged vein snaking inside your cunt. Gojo was just so big that your vision flashes black and white with just a few inches stuffed-

“I take it back.” He gasps. He heaves - pants so labored that it was like he’d given up on catching his breath. Trying to hold his head up - failing. 

“Take- oh, you’re so big- take what back?”

And the only thing Gojo can do is grab both sides of your waist and use the lecherous leverage to pull and pull you further down his rock-hard shaft. Straining out, his thumb cranes over to push inside a gluey wad of cum. “I t-taaake it back. Just the tip- n-never-” Just one singular taste of your sopping wet pussy on his cock and his voice cracks. “-never gonna be just the tip, my star.”

He’s so untouched, biting down furiously on his lower lip. 

Biting down furiously on your sodden panties just as soon as he remembers they’re still in his hands, muffling every whimpering wail that threatens to leave his maw. 

“Ngh- ngh- what the f-fuck.” Gojo’s ripping from the back of his throat, head falling backwards to bare his attractive throat as he slips deeper in. Fighting against that snug resistance with a few good half-thrusts, not even able to pull out properly. To even move. “It can feel this good?” 

And through your half-closed eyes you’re making out the fact that he’s pinching himself with a free hand. “Or m’I just in heaven?”

You feel his big, bulbous tip swab near your g-spot and start to mewl- “Mmm– and what if you are?”

“Don’t even wanna know if s’real.” Strings of saliva stick to Gojo’s lips as he babbles, still lathered in a layer of your pussy juices from before. And his mouth only waters even more when he’s feeling your hot insides clench around him, “Don’t need to know anything else- ngh.”

Every syllable is punctuated by an almost vulgar rut. 

You’re screaming as he’s bullying his slimy, pre-glazed tip inside. Letting the rotund crown of his cock pry apart your cute walls, harder. Deeper. 

Gojo smears your pussylips further open with one of his thumbs, letting just the top part of his digit fit into your entrance. Just so that he can fit his cock in fully. 

“P-please fit.” Muttering underneath his breath, teeth clenching tight on your panties. Looking up at you ferally through his lashes, “Please- please, didn’t wait s-so fucking long for you not to take it, my star. For this pretty pussy to be left unsatisfied.”

Your nails dig into his back, “Fuck- please- oh my god.”

“It has to fit-” 

“Will it?”

“Yes- yes, you’re gonna take it alll, my girl.”Fucking you furiously, sloppily. No rhythm or rhyme - or even sanity in each of his jagged strikes aiming for the very bottom of your pussy, “Has to it has to it- fuck! It has to-”

And when it does - when it finally, finally does - Gojo Satoru is left gaping, your underwear now dropping from his mouth and cleanly onto the floor. Speechless. 

Shit, if he hadn’t cum just minutes prior then he’d be creaming himself all over again.

Blinking once, twice down wordlessly at the sultry vision of your bloated pussylips kissin’ his pelvis. Bottomed-out until his cock was swallowed all the way up until those tufts of white at his base-

And then it all happens at once.

In a singular split-second, Gojo has your legs thrown over his shoulder, your knees pushed all the way down to your tits. Striking your spongy cervix with a dull thud of his weepy cocktip, before he’s reeling out halfway and doing it all over again.

And again.

And again and again and again-

You’re just shrilling– “Toru- hck!” Feeling your weary throat clog up with so many sobs n’ whines every time his globular head was piercing your cunt, pushin’ all the way into your womb. “Toru Toru Toru-”

“M’on vocal rest after this, y’know?” He blurts, seemingly out-of-the-blue. 

That is, until Gojo stares down at you with such a heady grin, leaned down just close enough that his hot respiration wafts the shell of your ear. And his tongue lurches out to lick up the drooling spittle leaking from each side of your mouth, “So you hafta scream twice as loud f’me, my star.”

Slamming the lines of his chiseled hips against yours, Gojo’s shaft was oh-so-veiny enough that you’re feeling your mind melt at the constant massage of your g-spot. “Like that- nghhh please-”

“Like- like this?” And it’s so difficult to remember that this was still Gojo’s first time– especially when he roams a palm over your tummy to feel for a particular bulging outline and press.

Carnally caressing the cylindrical bump that he was pounding into you, branding the fatness of his length right against your girth. “Shit- you really took it all.” He’s in awe at the feeling of his rotund cockhead pokin’ your very womb, “You wanna be fucked like hngh- this, don’t you? Want it hard? Fast?”

He was speaking utter filth, but his cadence was even filthier. 

Shivering hand pushing down on your stomach, the other slithering between your sheeny legs to toy with your neglected clit. 

“Your legs are shivering, my star- m’in trouble.” He arches his sculpted back to pick up the ruthless pace, throbbing cock stirrin’ within you to bash constantly straight into your g-spot. “S-sooooo much trouble.”

“More- ngh! Satoru, more-” You’re crying out through wobbly lips, “Want it even harder.”

“Fuck-” Hissing underneath his breath, Gojo’s doughy fingertips speedily smack your slope. Making your legs grow all numb, “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- then ngh- yeah, open those pretty legs and take this fat fucking cock-”

With a few more strokes he’s holding onto your throat, pinning you down so that Gojo can scratch the rough texture of his happy trail down your clit until you cry. “This fat- haaah- fuckin’- cock-”

You’re so dumbified by the size and sheer pleasure that you can only repeat after him, stupidly. “Fat- ngh- fuckin’...”

A velvety tongue drags over your salty beads of tears, “Atta girl—” Grindin’ the circumference of his thick cock against your g-spot, Gojo’s biting down on your earlobe just to hear the way you sing. “Louder.” The dangly metal of his earrings are frosty against your own clammy face, sensual. “Louder- let them hear, let them know.”

Uncertainly, your eyes drift over to where the door of the dressing room was innocently positioned. Notably closed. Notably locked.

But your moans were reaching a fever point at the rough bludgeons of Gojo’s cock, the way he was swervin’ his hips juuuust right to snag your sweetest spots. 

All those years of dancing helped him expertly target long glides down your g-spot. Leaving a trail of wet mucus from that particular bundle of nerves, n’ straight down-down-dooown to your cute cervix. “Let them all see-”

“S-see?” You’re gasping out in disbelief. 

With what almost sounds to you like a growl, “Mhm- yeah, fuck!” Gojo spanks his hips hard enough against yours that the impact leaves his v-line reddening, the papping sound echoing within the dressing room. “You think I wouldn’t fuck you in front of every nosy lil’ camera out there?”

You don’t even know what to say - what to do.

The only thing your pathetic body is capable of doing is gyratin’ back down to meet his tempo. Letting your limp legs tighten over his shoulders, “Y-you would?”

“Oh, my sweetheart—” Gojo’s crooning, snowy brows scrunching together. Giving your treacly cunt yet another hard jackhammer, “If this pussy wasn’t mine and mine alone, then that door wouldn’t even be- hah- locked right now.”

And he was drilling into you like he meant it - like he was furious with himself for holding out this long on the heaven of your sweet, sweet pussy.

Wailing, your eyes crossing at the sheer pleasure.

Now that he’d slurped up one sip, he was eager for the next- and before you know it, the blindfold that’d been dangling on your thigh was suddenly coiling ‘round your ankles. “You’re not getting out of this- oh.” Gojo’s beefy biceps flex as he’s tying your legs behind his neck, all for him to pull back on—“Gonna- gonna fill you up so we hafta be- ngh- prepared.”

Your salivatin’ chin hits the front of your chest and you whine, “Please- please make me cum, mm-”

“Yeah? Gonna make you cum- hah-” Gojo’s mouth hangs ajar, blush so rosy. He feels your goopy walls tighten on reflex and that makes his hardened cock twitch, “Then- then m’gonna fuck you through that.”

Strike after strike. 

His swollen lips lean down to suckle on one of your fingers - your left hand’s ring finger, to be precise. “Then m’gonna put a ngh- ring on it. Gonna- gonna I swear-”

Push after push.

“Toru—” Your tits jut up as you’re bowing your back off of the drenched sofa, “-not gonna- gonna- fuck!”

You don’t even have the privilege of letting that sentence finish before your orgasm takes you over, thrumming white-hot zaps of pleasure through your veins. Your teeth set on edge at how utterly good it feels to have Gojo’s fattened cock swabbing your tight hole through every peak, “Oh my god- oh my- fuuuuuck, there’s jus’ so much, Toru.”

Toes curled, mouth unfastened.

Pinching your clit until you’re squeeealing- “So- so much.” He’s echoing in a whisper, crushing you tight to him once Gojo’s finishing off, too. 

Abs plastered against your front until you memorize each ridge, his pecs smooth n’ plump against your tits. Your best friend just looked so pretty with his pearly whites grit in a snarl, brows knitted as he’s pumping you with cum until you overspilled. 

With thick, seedy knots of cum that blanketed your pussy - his pointed cockhead nudges every droplet inside until you can feel your walls stretch with the utter size. 

Thighs shaking with your release, his mess sploshing around inside of you. Your vision was still completely hazy- “Fuck- fuck, Satoru.”

And it’s like the sound of his name plummeting from your mouth sends shockwaves down his spine.

Because Gojo’s staring at you - mushroomy tip still leaky, still slidin’ through the sappy puddle he’s formulating at your cervix. For a good few seconds, maybe even minutes until he’s chuckling–“God, they could see right through me. Everyone could.”

More to himself.

Although those next words were entirely for you. 

“I love you.” Gojo’s pale lashes flutter, almost shyly, and you’re speechless at the fact that he was still fucking you. In slow, aching grinds that have him fucking his cum deeper n’ deeper inside you. “I’ve always loved you, my star.”

Your heart quivers, and you can’t help but reach a hand out to run through the sweaty valleys of his locks. Smile dazzling - something he could write songs, ballads, sonnets about some day. But for now it only makes his azure eyes wet, “And I love you, my Toru.”

Something weeps out of Gojo that sounds like a husky, drawn-out groan— and you can feel his thick tip twitch inside of you with a few more beaded dollops of seed.

Cumming for the nth time tonight until all his heavy balls could let out was misty white, just from hearing that you loved him back.

And for once it’s silence.

Calm, warm silence— that is, until Gojo’s pulling his ravaged, red cock just far enough that your cunt lets off the soppiest wet sluuuurp! 

You’re gasping, still feeling the rush of your high make your head whirl. Thighs clenching around his broad deltoids automatically, “Satoru- wh-what are you-”

“Oh, well…” Long, pale hands reach for the pile of fabric on the floor - your boyfriend’s pants. And Gojo has the sleaziest grin on his face as he’s digging his fingers into the depths of his pockets, promptly pulling out a lengthy line of condom foils. One he’d packed just in case, just for you.

You’re mentally counting about twenty before he’s letting his proud stack drop right down to your front. “You didn’t think we were done, right, my sweetheart?”

Oh, fuck.

Neither of you are making it out of this alive.

.

.

.

“There’s the wall of perfume, my books- especially songwriting books. And these clothes and, yeah, that’s really it for my room…” Gojo kicks away the pile of his Digimon socks on the ground with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. 

Something he was sure the cameraman intruding his dorm room would capture, and yet still edit to make something cute out of it anyway. 

Ah- such was the life of an ever-popular idol.

And here he was, up bright and early in the morning to let some variety show stomp all through the Six Eyes’ penthouse as a sort of ‘house tour.’ Well, sure he knew that this was bound to be a hit with the fans that probed into his life, but was it really necessary to not even give the man a heads-up?

Plastering on his most polished smile, he nods politely as the camera records a few more details. The hosts cooing over each little thing - all those fan letters he kept, a pretty crayon drawing of a blue star from years ago, and the-

“Eh?”

“Eh?”

“Eh?” Geto’s poking his head in, grin already plastered just in case there was to be some sort of chaos upheaved in Gojo’s room. And why wouldn’t there be?

Gojo’s following both hosts’ lines of vision, all the way down to his bed, “Eh?” Was it not made properly? Was it an offense to have sheets of his own boyband at this day and his age? Or was- “Oh.”

And then Gojo sees it - that. 

The familiar, gauzy fabric of your panties that he’d stolen all those nights ago. Hidden neatly underneath the puff of his pillows - well, almost hidden.

Because obviously it was exceptionally still in the bedroom right now- fuck, even Geto had gone quiet from his station near the door, realizing what it was. Attracting the attention of two very curious other members that were currently fighting to get a glimpse-

One of the hosts clears her throat, “Um- Mister Gojo, is that…” Eyes dazzling at the possibility of a scoop this big - all in their almost-family-friendly home-touring show. “Is it possible there’s a lady in your life the fans and world may want to know about? Is this that very same best friend everyone says you pine over?”

And the other host cackles, “Well, they certainly don’t seem to be your size, boy. And ones so skimpy- oho, kids these days.” 

Unabashedly pushing a mic into his face, “Anything to say for yourself?”

“Ah-” Gojo coughs out, jumping once the cameraman immediately swivels his lens towards him for his response. “Aha, well- you see-”

Gojo looks at Geto.

“…”

At Haibara.

“…”

At Nanami.

“…Fucking idiot.”

And finally at the camera itself- “Cut the cameras. Deadass.”

Yaga might have bribed the network to never air that particular episode, and Dispatch might have done their best to leak it, anyway.

Right along with a few grainy paparazzi shots of figures that looked undeniably like you two. Hand-in-hand, suspicious blemishes on both your necks, wandering down the sidewalks of Han River. 

And if Yaga was having a tough PR day with just that then it would’ve been too merciful of the universe. Because how could you discount the fact that Gojo Satoru, notorious dodger of paparazzi questions, had proudly held up your joined hands and exclaimed at a few buzzing reporters—“Fuck yeah- my girlfriend now, suckers!”

No resignation letter would ever be enough.

@sunflowerboy: let it be known that I always believed in Gojo-san!!

@eathaibara replying to @sunflowerboy: we bow before you great sunflowerboy (the only one to believe in toru’s loser rizz)

@torutoaster: i luv how #go(jo)outthefriendzone is trending worldwide- LOSER RIZZ ALWAYS WINS 

@fiendingforsixeyes: HE DID IT?? MY BOY ACTUALLY DID IT??

@mahitoe: tch whatever

@zbstan replying to @mahitoe: womp womp

@sunflowerboy replying to @mahitoe: LMFAOOOO SUCK IT YOU LOSER HATER FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK-

@eathaibara replying to @sunflowerboy: omg sunflowerboy??

@sunflowerboy replying to @eathaibara: sorry got a little excited^^

@sugu-rizzed: I just know pr is SCRAMBLING rn but not as much as my boy scrambled to get that cookie.

@satorusxkitten: bi panic is wanting both of them!!

@ge.akuge: idk what she sees in him it must be the wigs

@CandyKento: the ‘my star’, isacs, the awards speech, the PANTIES?? gojo satoru it was always meant to be idk what to tell ya. now get married

@Fushidaddy107: I still think she’d be better with me smh.

@officialgojosatoru replying to @Fushidaddy107: Blocked.

A/N. This was SOOO self-indulgent omg- ALSO DADDY TONY’S BAAAACK!!

Plus, why would he? Growing up, he was brought up as the ‘perfect child’ in his clan, being the ignition to his ego. And currently, your devotion to him is higher than any other person he had previously come across with. And even though you don’t try, your physical expression towards him has fueled his ego in an unnecessarily large amount over your dating period.

You’re not a person of words, but merely a woman of touch. You talk a lot, but you’re not very poetic, so verbally complimenting Gojo is almost non-existent. But he doesn’t mind, since the number of compliments he has received from multiple people about his physical looks is 10x more than how much an average person receives in their lifespan. Though, it’s not a lie if he wants to hear how his eyes are like the sky or how his hair is like snow from you. Typical and repetitive, but it’s refreshing if those words trickle from your tongue instead from people he doesn’t care about.

But they never did, and he accepts that. He’s aware that you’re not the complimenting type, but the way your hand caresses his hair in the winter snow, fingertips lightly kissing his bare chest almost every night, and how you gaze into his eyes as if you were cloud-gazing is enough to make him feel like he’s the most gorgeous man alive. So it’s normal for him to never feel envy, insecurity, or any other negative, self-indulgent emotion. This relationship alone already sets him above cloud nine.

So, what happens if Gojo were to come face-to-face with those unfamiliar feelings for the first time?

—--

Utahime was extremely nervous when she introduced her partner to you and Satoru, especially you.

And it was definitely awkward to reunite with your former ex with your current boyfriend by your side… But it was Utahime’s fault, for she was rambling (and indirectly apologizing) about how painfully weird this must be to the both of you. And while Satoru joyfully soaked in her rare emotion of being flustered, you happily greeted your ex, and both exclaimed that this interaction isn’t weird or awkward at all.

Yes, Utahime’s boyfriend was your first love, but it ended smoothly and with no hard feelings. Your time apart is 5 times longer than your time together. In fact, this feels like a reunion between old friends rather than former, romantic companionship. That being said, Satoru feels at ease since you’re so relaxed and the man opposite to him (who goes by the name Rai) is non-threatening at all.

Therefore, lunch went smoothly, where everyone caught up with each other. You and Rai discussed any milestone events between the gap of seeing one another last and now, while Utahime irritatingly throws insults towards Gojo’s gleeful taunts.

After stopping at an ice cream parlor for dessert on the go, you and Utahime decide to sit outside on a bench to talk about “girl stuff” while the boyfriends entertain themselves.

“I have to take this call,” Rai waves his phone and Satoru dismisses him by flashing a toothless grin. And once the man leaves, the 28-year-old sorcerer ponders where you and his former classmate trailed off too. Sensing your cursed energy, he makes his way to the bench where you and Utahime are chatting.

“There’s no way he did that!” Utahime playfully slapped your shoulder while you hid your face from laughing too hard.

Amused, your boyfriend keeps himself at a distance, admiring how delighted you are, while also basking in how your skin glistens against the sun. But he remains close enough to eavesdrop.

“He did, he did!” Your finger swiped a tear off the bottom of your eye. “For 2 months after our first anniversary, he told the same restaurant that it was our anniversary for free dessert whenever we visited. And they believed it until all the waiters served us.”

Perplexed, Satoru raised an eyebrow, unfamiliar with your storyline. No? On your first anniversary, he took you to the Bahamas and 100% did not do that… Though it’s financially unnecessary, he thought it was a genius plan.

“It is something Rai would do,” Utahime sighed, calming down from her fit of laughter. “I’m 31, but he still sometimes tells the servers that I’m 25 whenever he wants to get under my skin.”

“Oh geez… A literal trickster at best.”

Satoru frowned upon discovering that you were talking about your past experience with Rai and how open you are about it. Well- it’s not that he minds. He shouldn’t mind, actually.

You probably talk about your experiences with Satoru to your friends all the time! Eagerly, he waits for your turn to share a goofy story about a time with your very dearest. But, that conversation never came to be.

Utahime shifts her seat and stands straight with relaxed shoulders. “In all honesty, I’m glad that we are able to talk about this. I was so nervous about how awkward it might be for you since Rai was you know…”

Her voice trailed off to some sort of unsettlement and you took that as an opportunity to smile genuinely at the nervous teacher.

“Ahh don’t be!” You gave reassurance by tapping the side of her thigh. “Rai is a great man! He and I ended on very good terms. I was actually very happy to see him today. Looks much different than the last time I saw him.”

“Really?” Utahime’s eyes ogled. “What did he look like when he was younger?”

Meanwhile, Satoru pressed his back against the wall with crossed arms. Removing his glasses, he barely needed to glance over the concrete corner to see you pulling old pictures of a group. And there you were in the middle while your finger led his attention to a figure of a man all the way to the left. Right from the get-go, Satoru knew that this picture was from you in high school, meaning that it was before you and Rai started dating. That was the only fact you told him.

The 31-year-old squinted her eyes and used her fingers to zoom into the photo. “Huh, he does look a lot leaner, but with more of a babyface. You didn’t become his girlfriend until the beginning of college, correct?”

You nodded. “Yeah. This picture was actually taken the day we met.”

Satoru felt his lips unconsciously pouting at the statement. Do you have any sort of memorabilia of the time you met?

‘It’s a group photo. Don’t be weird about it,’ The sorcerer brushed those uncomfortable, unfamiliar thoughts away.

“You guys knew each other longer than I thought.” Utahime happened to express Satoru’s thoughts out loud.

“Actually, I knew about him first before he met me,” you recalled, which sparked your lover’s curiosity. He leaned closer, so his ears could capture everything you say. Not that it bothers him, of course.

Assuming that the woman you’re talking to had a nonverbal reaction, you laughed outwardly. “You were no longer in high school, but he was very popular in our class! Though… there weren’t that many people, to begin with. Anyways, he would always be chirpy and courteous to those around him. I wasn’t that outgoing so I just kinda admired him from the back of the class until it was our last semester of high school… You’re okay with me telling you this, right Hime?”

“Please, I’m not the envious type. I want to know who my partner was before I met him. But I think your boyfriend might get jealous.” Satoru could hear the hesitance that trailed off his former classmate’s tone. He almost wanted to jump in and laugh at how stupid that assumption was.

Satoru, jealous? It’s sinful to put those two terms in one sentence.

“Nah, he’s not like that.” You raised a hand, brushing it off. “Anyways, where do you want me to start?”

—--

Maybe Satoru did something bad and the Gods punished him for it. With Rai gone for 30 minutes, you told Utahime your old companionship with her current lover. How after months of friendship, you were the one who initiated it and how he was your first everything. Before having proper money, you and Rai would go on adventures as dates to compensate for simple meals. And to make matters worse, Utahime all soaked it up as if she was the spectator in this failed relationship.

Not an ounce of possessiveness or jealousy courses through her veins. Just utter curiosity and fascination.

Gojo told himself that he felt the same thing. However, it left a sour distaste on his tongue and a churned stomach upon hearing all of this. He had his fair share of experiences before his current one and you were being honest about yours. You liked your relationship and that’s that.

But why did he carry the feeling of wanting to whisk you away from ever getting near Rai? No, Gojo Satoru is never jealous. He’s being protective.

“What are your favorite features about him?!” Utahime asked, clamping her fingers together. You sat up straight, rubbing the back of your head with an unsure laugh.

“Uhhh are you sure you want me to answer that?” As much as you’re happy about your friend’s enthusiasm, you felt like you might be setting yourself up in a trap.

“Oh come on! My boyfriend’s really hot and kind, and I don’t have anyone to fan him over with! Please, I won’t get mad!” The semi-grade 1 sorceress grabs your hands, tightly squeezing them. You scanned her eyes, trying to see if there was any envy or malice behind her enthusiastic gaze. However, any implication did not arise and you concluded that your friend was just lovesick with no one to talk to about it.

But Satoru sure as hell didn’t want you to. Actually, he was absolutely sure that you didn’t want to answer either. He’s had enough of this and he senses that you are too. If anything, he can’t wait to accuse his senior of acting like a teenage girl for the next year and forever. Pushing himself off the wall, he began to showcase his loud, obnoxious appearance until he halted at the sound of your voice.

“Like physical? I’m not too sure, actually. I used to like how light his brown hair would get in the summer.” You opened your mouth to continue but closed it immediately.

Satoru tugged on the strands of his white hair, frowning at the color. You liked running your hands through it, but you’ve never commented on how nice it looked.

“Isn’t it gorgeous? Everything about him is perfect-” Utahime fawned. Her face beamed a bright red as she geeked over her man, clutching onto you in the process. Your stuntedness formed into a genuine smile, due to how happy you are for a lifelong friend. At last, she’s found happiness.

She continued. “His hair, his face, his eyes-”

It even shocked you that you managed to interrupt Utahime’s rare tandem. “-His eyes are very beautiful! It’s like looking into a green nebula. It’s what drew me into him the most and I think he was sick of me always saying that.”

“Sincerely out of this world. I can’t describe it in words, but every time I look into them, I feel like I’m in a hypnotic trance.”

“-Like you’re simply lost whenever he’s talking?”

“YES!”

“Yeah, I noticed you blanking out whenever he was talking to you.”

“Oh shut up, you most likely did the same thing when he was yours.” Utahime playfully nudged and you furrowed at her tease.

“Sure.”

Now, this is something that Gojo had to admit that it kinda hurt. His eyes were the staple of his well-being, the frontman of his physical confidence. Yes, you drew your thumbs underneath those rare pairs, but the fact that you never called them beautiful or verbally admired them once stung.

But when Rai was yours, you apparently complimented him like it was no problem.

'Beautiful and captivating, huh?' He whimpered softly as the uncomfortable feeling washed over him. He never heard you traject those words to him before.

“Um… Well, I’m sure that you know, but he was absolutely sweet and very courteous.” Your tone softened as you reminisced about the old times. “We didn’t have a lot back then, but he still managed to make every day feel like we could do anything even though we didn’t have everything… Oh God, that sounds weird. I didn’t mean it that way, I’m so sorry.”

You face-palmed yourself and something inside Satoru’s gut twisted. He would always shower you with gifts and other spoils, but mainly as reconciliation if his busy schedule stole him away from you. Before he knew it, his hand was placed over his heart, his stomach doing massive somersaults.

Do anything… Did Satoru fail to give you satisfaction when he could do everything?

But when Rai was yours, you felt like you could.

“I know what you mean!” Utahime playfully tugged on the strands of her hair. You swore you could see stars beaming from her brown orbs. “One time we forgot our wallets after eating at a karaoke bar, so he had to improvise his way of paying by having me sing for tips and we still had leftover money for more drinks!”

“Ugh, clever bastard… Where does he get a brain like that? That’s also one thing I admire about him.”

“Well in terms of strength, he’s only a grade 2, so he had to be more creative when it comes to fighting curses.”

‘I can get creative!’ He mentally argued, though he never really has to, since he can snap and the curse would perish.

“True… When we’d spar back then, Rai would still manage to beat my ass even though I’m ‘stronger’ than him,” you put the term in air quotes.

You and Utahime convene until the latter’s boyfriend returns from his phone call. He flashed Satoru a wide smile and through his dark sunglasses, your partner analyzed the ex’s eyes.

They are very green and arguably mesmerizing. But, Satoru believes his are prettier.

But, is that what you think?

With an uncomfortable heart, the men returned to their beloved partners. You squealed when Utahime received a loving kiss from Rai, while Satoru snaked his arm around your waist.

You could’ve noticed how secure his grip was if you weren’t so busy talking to Rai about your past as mission partners.

—--

A few days later, you’ve noticed Satoru being extra clingy… and nice?

The usually messy and disorganized sorcerer started to clean up after himself and always abide by what you wanted.

The man who had the palette of a child opted out for a savory breakfast rather than going to a sweets cafe because you wanted to. He’d be more affectionate in public, not letting you out of his reach. Oddly enough, he would settle the bridge of his sunglasses on a lower portion of his nose, so you have to see in his blue eyes when you’d talk in public.

It worried you for a moment since new habits have been created and broken out of the blue. With no explanation, he would always do his best to please you.

From your basic wants to intimate needs, for some reason, Satoru wanted to give it his all.

—--

“What is with you, Satoru-” You sigh as your partner leaves delicate kisses on the nape and then to the side of your neck. His large hands slide down from your waist to your hips and pull you closer to him. “You’re so touchy today.”

Like the last couple of days…

“I just missed you,” his hot breath releases a chill down your spine. He then sets down the spatula you were holding while turning off the stovetop. “Just missed you so much.”

Though your ‘annoyed’ exterior shows any satisfaction, it’d be a lie if you claimed that you aren’t melting from his touch. The heat inside the kitchen adds more to the desire burning deep in your core and it doesn’t help that the person casting the effect spins you around and has lips hovering centimeters away from yours.

“Beautiful…” The tip of his right thumb brushes the bottom of your lip and he licks his own. You glance up to meet his eyes, but his starry blue irises have turned to a thinner ring, as his pupils dilate in infatuation. His remaining fingers cup your jaw, adding more fuel to the pit of your stomach.

His left-hand sneaks down to the flesh of your ass and you yelp in surprise as he pulls you towards him. Taking your open mouth as an advantage, Satoru doesn’t hesitate to slip his tongue in as his lips connect with yours. You wrap your arms around his waist, and the throb between your thighs increases.

“Mmph!” You groan and Satoru initiates the next step by rubbing his hips against your clothed body. Tongues dance together while he continues to grope your ass, but his hand shortly rises underneath your shirt, feeling every curvature of the small of your back. The sloppiness in his pace and the subtle whines in his throat is enough to help you predict how hard he is underneath his layer of clothing. Teasingly, you break the kiss and slip a finger inside his beltline.

A string of saliva bridges between the two lips and Satoru grouches at the disconnect. His lips swell pink from the heated activity while his cheeks are flushed, anticipating more. From his chest, the light blue, silk button-up rises up and down, and your partner pants heavily as if he just ran a marathon.

Usually, at this point, he would make some condescending or teasing remark on how much you want to bed him. However, his mouth remains gaped, only the sounds of his breathing pass between the two of you. Wanting to test him, your index finger slips lower until you can feel the skin of his abdomen. Satoru quickly exhales from the sudden touch, but there’s no usual smirk or raised brow on his face. Only an expression that screams, ‘Please continue.’

“Baby, are you okay?” You gaze at him, still catching your own breath.

He’s strangely quiet as if he’s suddenly shy. And that’s typically not who Gojo Satoru is.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” The hand still underneath your shirt begins to make its way to the right side of your waist, and the closer he gets to your stomach, the amount of butterflies increases.

After noting how your jaw clenches at the action, Satoru bends down and leaves a kiss on the side of your neck. It’s wet, but not entirely sloppy. Instead of using his tongue and straight-up licks down to your sternum like a usual, teasing bastard, he takes time and kisses his way down. The jolt between your thighs returns.

“We- We can’t. I still need to cook for you.” Automatically, your right hand reaches up to the back of his head, using your fingers to grasp his white locks. Your action contrasts your words and Satoru takes that as your approval.

“I’m not hungry.” But the way both hands move below your shirt says otherwise. Since you’re at home, you wear your favorite v-neck with no bra underneath. Freely, two thumbs brush over your hardened nipples, rubbing them in a circular motion, and your hands grip the counter for support.

“But-”

“Right now, I just want you.” There’s a different look in Satoru today. He’s never been so direct on what he wants until now. Whenever he would declare his needs, he would mask his desires with a playful tone. This time, he says it as if these are direct orders from a life or death mission.

Sensing your shift in mood, the sorcerer detaches his tongue from your exposed chest and looks up at you. The inner corners of his brows scrunched and his lips glisten under the fluorescent light. He shoots you a look of what appears to be desperation, almost like he’s in pain.

“Please-” he breathily urges, one hand scooping the bottom of your ass while the other arm is wrapped around your waist, waiting for approval. “I want to make you feel good, right now.”

Your legs tremble at this new side of Satoru and something about him practically begging to fuck you ignites something in your soul. You can’t pinpoint what exactly, but whatever it is, his wish is your command.

“Yeah, okay.” You breathe out and as if it’s choreographed over a hundred times (and to be honest, it is), you feel a set of palms grabbing your bottom and he hoists you up. Your legs immediately wrap around his waist and your lips crash against the side of his neck, hungrily sucking and licking where other faded love marks are. After being able to find his sweet spot, Satoru’s shoulders shudder at the intense feeling while he glides his way into the bedroom while carrying you, his constricted cock begs to be freed from his tight pants.

His main mission right now is to please you.

—--

Once he lays you down, you don’t hesitate to remove your own shirt and toss it to the side, revealing your bare breasts in all their glory. And for a few seconds, Satoru halts on top of you, hands next to your shoulders, soaking up the appearance of a goddess in front of him. A thin layer of drool begins to dribble down his lips.

Previously he’s admired you many times before sex, but because you’ve been so indulgent at his changed behavior, this is your first time noticing how he’s acknowledging your physical appearance. With how reserved he’s being, it gives you a little confidence boost, since you’ve never seen such a man in awe of your presence.

His bewildered eyes, a pool of drool below his lips, the imprint of his massive hardon against his left thigh, all of this is your doing. You’ve brought the strongest sorcerer to his knees, and you’ve never acknowledged that until now. With a burning face, your fingers pinch your own nipples, the pleasurable sensation causing you to moan.

Satoru, who is still on top of you (and fully clothed), bites his lip at how it’s not him forcing that sound out of you. In protest, his right hand carefully pushes away your left palm and continues to knead your breast.

The ends of his hair tickle your bare chest as his mouth trails lower to your stomach, enveloping each kiss with non-verbal, mental praises. He hopes that you understand the messages behind his actions, for he can’t find the right words that will do it justice.

You’re his goddess, and no one else's.

He wants you to feel good.

He wants you to say that you’re feeling good.

He needs you to say that he’s doing a good job, that nobody could ever compare to him.

“Someone’s feeling… very lovey today,” a hitched giggle is drawn out while your palm continues to pet his hair. It’s difficult to formulate a coherent sentence while he’s so busy leaving wet marks around the sensitive areas of your skin. 3 years together and he’s mastered all of your sweet points.

Wanting to share the pleasure, you raise your foot and rub his very prominent erection, gliding it back and forth. The sudden friction in his pants makes him halt his movements, a trembling hand wraps around the ankle of your jeans. Stopping your actions, you look up at an out-of-breath Satoru, who looks rather conflicted between wanting you to continue or needing you to stop.

One more swipe and it looks like he’s about to combust.

“Aww is my pretty boy about to cum in his pants?” The sultriness in your tone even shocks you. Usually, this is Satoru’s role to play, telling you how ‘pretty’ you are underneath him while mocking your desperation for release. But seeing how compliant he’s been, your subconscious tells you to take the dominant part- verbally at least. And not gonna lie, you do want to see the image of Satoru completely soiling his attire. If it wasn’t for his hold on your ankle, you would’ve been sliding your foot along his clothed shaft to the very tip of his very pretty dick.

A small patch of wetness seeps through your jeans and you’ve just noticed how soaked you are. It doesn’t help that the lewd image ingrained in your head is the major cause of all of this.

But what you didn’t know is how close Satoru is already. This whole charade is an experience for the both of you- you’re grunting at wanting to see your partner completely at your mercy while he’s about to combust from your sentence alone.

‘Pretty boy'

‘My pretty boy.’

His cock continues to twitch as the nickname cycles in his head again and again. It’s the first time you’ve ever called him something like that for intimate purposes. Even from his past sexual experiences, he’s never been the one who’s doused in possessive compliments so this is a new discovery for him.

Yes, yes! He’s your pretty boy. Yours and yours only. His heart thumps and his stomach flutters while ogling the wet patch seeping through your jeans. From your perspective, that flustered expression Satoru had is now mixed with a certain fierceness. The brightness in his eyes darkens as he single-handedly undoes the buttons of your jeans and even though he’s still got it, it’s cute at how clumsier he looks.

“No-” He grunts, answering your question. Bringing the middle and ring finger up to his mouth, Satoru coats them with his tongue, though you’re both aware that the extra lubrication is unnecessary. You’re already leaking through your jeans, that’s more than enough.

You swallow, gazing at the man above you, the superiority in your thoughts leaving your head.

‘Aw shit.’

A string of saliva connects his bottom lip to his coated fingers and Satoru swirls his tongue around your right areola.

“Haaah…” You gasp and fist the bedsheets and the skin of your boyfriend’s hand disappears below your panties as those long fingers trace along your puffy lips, a silent warning that he’s about to enter.

Shimming off your pants but leaving your underwear on, Satoru sits up more on his knees and eyes the bottom of your panties, the darker shade due to your juices adds more to his arousal. Yes, he felt how wet you are. But upon seeing how soaked you are, he’s extremely close to going completely feral.

“You’re leaking…” He replies astounded like this is a brand new sight for him. Your hips angle up, trying to match the slow pace of his fingers, your cunt beckoning for his fingers to slip in.

“Mhm, yeah. I am.” Your patience is starting to wear thin.

‘Is this some type of long foreplay?’ You thought to yourself, biting your lip.

Though you like this ‘wonder-like’ version of Satoru, you just want to feel him. Spreading your legs farther, your hand cups above his that’s hovering over your wet core. “You feel that? You feel how soaked I am, Satoru? It’s all- oh God… It’s all for you.”

If you weren’t so desperate for him to continue, you’d find yourself extremely pathetic for being the one indirectly begging for him to begin. And upon seeing your need, Satoru doesn’t waste any more time. After all, it is his duty to satisfy his queen.

Almost apologetically, his two fingers slip inside- warm, gummy walls instinctively tighten around them. Trying to add more stimulation, his thumb presses on your clit, rubbing in circular motions. His free hand palms his own erection and his hips begin to rut against it, pacing with how his fingers curl inside of you.

Satoru thrives on how contorted your face is, how your eyes roll to the back of your head and how your lips form an ‘o’ shape. The way that both hands tightly grip the sheets beside you, but how you desperately claw on them as if it’s his muscular back. Your hips buckle up, grinding the open air and he marvels at how ravenous you look.

“Sa- Satoru nghhh- yessss,” you reach out trying to grab his arm- grab any body part. Still pacing back and forth, Satoru holds out his free hand and you grip it tightly.

“Yes?” He groans with you, the squelching sounds of your wet cunt taking his fingers are music to his ears. You mouth his name again, mixed with urgent moans. He himself can feel precum creating a pool on his underwear. You try to speak and he wonders what to do next.

Does the fist himself while he continues fingering you? Or should he just focus on you? He can take care of his needs later. Right now… Right now Satoru wants needs you to-

“I’m about to… I’m about to cum.” You squeeze the last 4 words with clenched teeth.

“Then go ahead, sweetheart. Cum nice and hard for me.” He licks his own lips, nodding along with you like your release is also his.

“No.” You hiss and his eyes widen, surprised by your answer. Immediately, the thrusting of his fingers slows down to a stop. And you whimper at how you’ve edged yourself.

“What’s wrong, baby? Did I do something wrong? Did you not like it?” His mind races with many factors on how he displeased you. You seemed to have enjoyed it. The way that your insides squeezed around his fingers was enough to tell him that he was fingering you in the right places.

Settling from your almost high, you laugh and scoot closer to him, calves sliding underneath the middle of his thighs. Glancing at his perplexed face, you reach up to his white-collar, and yank him down, his lips connecting to yours once more.

You can feel the sound of his grunt vibrate on your tongue and like a pro, your fingers nimbly work their way down, undoing the first three buttons.

“I loved it,” you mumble between the heated kiss. “I was so close, but I want to cum from your cock, not your fingers.”

“Huh?” Satoru exhales sharply. His already flushed face deepens even more and the confident fire in you returns. Biting his lips, your hands trace down from his chest, purposely brushing over his nipples, and press on his muscular abdomen. Your left-hand removes the small leather strap from the buckle and tugs him closer.

“What are you doing?” He asks as if his eyes have deceived him. Your left fingers successfully undo the buttons of his jeans with one hand while your right ones lightly graze over his restrained erection. Satoru exhales, hips involuntarily rocking back and forth.

“What else?” You tease, applying more pressure against his clothed shaft. “Remove your top for me, Satoru. It’s not fair that I’m the only one naked right now. Why are you being so shy all of a sudden?”

Complying with the request, but ignoring your question, Satoru unbuttons his silk top, fingers fumbling and shaking. It is cute to see, but his sudden nervousness makes you nervous as well. Why is he being so fidgety? Did he do something bad?

On his second to the last button, you place your hand on top of his, signaling for him to stop. Reading the uncertainty on your face, Satoru can’t utter a word. His flushed chest heavily breathes, waiting for your next thought.

“What’s wrong, Satoru?” You speak softly, with an edge of worry.

“What do you mean?” He tries to play it off, but here’s the one thing about Gojo Satoru. He may be good at hiding his feelings, but if you interrogate him in a highly vulnerable environment, he’s shit at pretending. The warmth in his cheeks adds another knot of evidence.

Tugging on his wrist furthermore, you encourage him to sit down, officially halting the intimate activity. Disappointed by his lack of usual finesse, Satoru’s face beams in embarrassment rather than arousal.

“I mean…” You pull a pillow, hiding your exposed chest. “Why are you so nervous?”

Satoru does his best to pull a mischievous tone. “Is it wrong to be nervous when I pleasure my goddess?”

“ I-uhhhhh,” Your stomach releases butterflies, due to his suaveness. However, you still feel how hesitant Gojo is. It’s like facing a virgin. “You’re always very confident during sex. I’m usually the flustered one.”

You chuckle, pointing a finger at yourself, but your boyfriend hides his eyes through his hair. Frowning you scoot closer, as you settle your way onto his lap. Your arms wrap around the back of his neck and your wet core presses against his softening erection.

“Come on baby, talk to me.” You press an open-mouth kiss on his right pec and a small nibble on his collarbone. Satoru shudders at the warm feeling as he wraps his arms around your back to pull you closer. “Please?”

It took him a while, but the sorcerer finally connects through eye contact, his magnificent ocean eyes sending a loving shrill down your spine. You find yourself getting lost in his gaze.

“I overheard you and Utahime talking on the bench, the other day,” he grumbles and your ears perk up at his answer.

“How much did you hear?”

“I heard enough to know that Rai was able to make you feel like you could do anything in the whole world.” His voice drops and so does your heart. “Even with everything I have, no matter how many riches or treasures I give you, it’ll never amount to anything that he gave.”

Your face drops to a frown, shocked at what you’re hearing from both ears. How on earth did he assume that?!

“No baby, no.” You coo, sweeping the soft, pearl-like strands of hair from his forehead. Your lips plant on the recently exposed skin, and you slowly travel down to his nose, rosy cheeks, and jaw before stopping inches above his lips. Satoru whimpers at the distance, while also recalling your denial.

You slowly inch forward. “That was all in the past, my love. Rai is a great person, but the amount of affection he has given is no match to how much care, devotion, gifts (you jest by nibbling on the cartilage of his ear), and love that you've given me. Likewise, my feelings for you are incomparable to how I felt towards him. Don’t compare yourself to my past experience, Satoru. You’re my present and future.”

He swallows at your words. The sadness in his blue hues brightens into love and hope. His lips gape as he looks at the face that is inches above his. Truly a goddess in human form.

“Really?” He still needs to feel reassured.

‘Please tell the truth.’

“Yes, truly. I love you more than any man or woman I’ve ever come across and will come across.” Your thumb grazes his bottom lip as he mumbles back the same three words. The kiss starts slowly as if he was still hesitant over the whole ordeal. But your eagerness helps push him to come back to his comfort zone.

As he inserts his tongue into your mouth, you begin to pace by grazing his hair through your fingers. Your hips rock, lapping over the hardening member below, and the butterflies from your stomach return.

But before you can escalate even further, Satoru pulls away, this time earning a whine from you.

He breathes heavily, pulling on a rather teasing pout. “Say that my eyes are pretty.”

“What?” Your fingernails lightly trace over the sides of his neck and your partner shivers from the tingling sensation.

“You don’t compliment me, ever.” He forces out, rather pettily. “Just this once, please say something nice about me.”

His last sentence is hushed and desperate-sounding. You giggle at his shyness once more and peck the tip of his nose. Though, your stomach swirls with guilt, as it seems like you never showed him enough love.

Time to fix that.

“I’m sorry if you got the wrong message,” your lips travel to his neck, words vibrating through his flawless skin. His head leans back and his Adam's apple bobs from the pleasure. “But I always think that you’re beautiful, Satoru. It’s just that the whole world knows it.” Slowly, you remove yourself from his lap and have him lie flat down on the large mattress.

With all four limbs pinned around him, you continue to shower him with praise. You ravish every piece of exposed skin on his body starting from the top and he flushes brightly while looking away. “I thought that you’d be sick and tired once you hear it from me multiple times.”

“Never… I would never get sick of it coming from- ohhh…” Satoru hisses as your hand lightly tugs on the roots of his hair. With your right knee moving to the middle of his thighs, you put slight pressure on his balls, having him slowly grind for more friction.

“Your hair is purer than any shades of white and softer than all the silk I’ve ever touched.” Your grip softens as you kiss the side of his head. Soon after, you travel down to his eyes. Thumbs softly brushing the delicate skin underneath them. His blown-out pupils stare directly at your soul, the power of his six eyes distinguishing the warmth that flows through your veins.

You place a peck on each outer corner. “If only words can bring justice to how mesmerizing these eyes of yours are. Did you know how embarrassed I was the day you first removed your blindfold? I thought that I wouldn’t be able to pry away and you’d catch me staring.”

“I did. I caught you all the time.” He hums amused, but his gaze never leaves yours. Though it’s just the two of you in this room, you whisper a message that is created for him and only him.

“The sky and ocean, all-in-one. How did I get so lucky to see the gates of heaven when I’m still walking on this earth? Maybe I instead, am the honored one.”

His heart swells at the softness of your words. You, the goddess in his life, find yourself the honored one because of him. It nearly brings tears to the god-like sorcerer’s eyes.

Satoru slithers his large palms where your ass meets your thighs, unable to keep his hands away from you. He molds them and you swallow, the throb in your pussy begs to be touched, to continue unfinished business.

“Slow down, pretty boy.” You purr with a kitten-like grin. His hands around you clamp at the name and your knee feels his hips thrust up. His eyes almost roll back and his nose scrunches at the endearment.

“You like being called that, huh baby?” Your knee presses against his clothed crotch, earning a wince from his pretty mouth. “Is that all I need to say to get you this vulnerable? Call you my pretty boy?”

Another grind against your knee. Satoru looks up at you in a hazed condition. Though the main event hasn’t arrived, he looks like he just came from a 3-time post-orgasm state. With the cat biting his tongue, Gojo nods profusely, desperately uttering yes.

Sweat seeps through his button-up as you kiss his glossed lips. This time, you and Satoru had to fight for dominance. His is pure infatuation and desperation, while you want to gain control in taming the strongest sorcerer. You bring your body down as he slips a finger through the hem of your panties.

“Please…” He begs as you pull back, crotch fully grinding against yours. His hands move your hips in a slow rhythm, your wetness staining his already soaked imprint. The friction of your panties is enough to make you cum alone. “I want to make you feel good. Please let me make you feel good.”

That can happen, but seeing a vulnerable Satoru below you, desperate for your pleasure while curling his toes at every praise is rather enjoyable. A new, undiscovered flame lights your stomach and you want to do what it takes to explore this rare opportunity.

“You always do that,” you pout, going lower. “But this time, I-” Each word, leaves a love bite on his neck and down to his collarbone and chest.

“Want.”

Bite.

“To.”

Bite.

“Make.”

Bite.

“You.”

Kiss.

“Feel.”

Bite.

“Good.”

Bite.

You tug on his hard nipples with your teeth and fingers, making Satoru buck up in surprise.

“Nghhh!” He pants, tears pricking his eyes. His hands grip the sides of the bedsheets and since you’ve moved lower, his hips are humping nothing but air.

Removing the last two buttons of his shirt, you encourage him to shimmy out of it and toss it to the floor. No distractions.

As you move lower to his abdomen, you continue to spill praises and all the verbal affirmations that you’ve never told him. You feel extremely guilty for neglecting him in that aspect since you believe that he thinks that he just doesn’t need to hear anymore, so you want to make up for it as much as possible.

When you make it down to his pants, you debate whether or not you want to tease him even further or just begin business. His legs tremble the moment he feels the belt unfastening.

“Are you okay baby?” You ask innocently, tracing one hand around his v-line while the other gently grazes on the massive bump in his jeans. Satoru throws his head back, gripping both of your hands with his.

“My love, please.” His throat is dry, and his neck all the way down to his abs are decorated with your love marks. “I’m going to cum just by this- I can’t- I- Oh my God…”

“You can cum twice, can’t you?” He barely notices how you already unzipped his pants, the only layer blocking your skin from his dick is the heavily coated gray boxer briefs. It rises as it is freed from the constricted attire. After removing his trousers, you begin to toy with the outline with your hand. You can already feel the drool pooling in your mouth.

“I didn’t know you could get this soaked, Satoru!” You’re genuinely impressed by how much pre-cum your boyfriend is able to produce. On your hottest nights, he’d already had his dick pumping inside you if he were this horny. “How lucky am I to be dating the world’s prettiest boy with the prettiest dick?”

Satoru wants to laugh at the compliment, and retort something cheesy. But his mind is too swayed to even think coherently. He is pretty. He is your pretty boy.

He loves that.

Peeling off his stained boxers, his hard dick springs freely, the light reflected by the sheer coat of his juices. The flushed tip leaks even more out and you almost feel pity at how long you’ve left him waiting.

The sorcerer can barely raise his dizzy head to see what’s going on. When you make eye contact with him, a devilish smirk appears on your face and Satorh’s thighs clench when he feels your hot breath going near it. He’s almost afraid of what you’re going to do.

“J-Just- just… Aghhh, my love! I-” He is instantly greeted by the softness of your mouth and hand circulating around him. His balls are heavy with cum, the only thing prohibiting him from shooting down your throat is his sheer willingness to draw out this pleasure as long as possible.

You can’t go all the way down, as the halfway point is already your limit. As your right hand strokes the bottom portion of his shaft, your left pays gratuitous attention to his balls, massaging them to increase the pleasure.

Meanwhile, your own cunt is begging for the pleasure Gojo’s receiving. With your knees still on the bed, your ass sticks up in the air, the angle forcing your sticky wetness to travel down to the front of your core. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re already leaking on the bed.

At this point, Gojo is already babbling incoherent sentences. His head lolls to the side, his blue hues barely visible due to how far they rolled back. His right-hand fists the bedsheets, knuckles paling due to how tight he’s pulling on them. The other is submerged in your hair. He’s more gentle about it, but every once in a while he would subconsciously thrust a little too hard, making you gag. You encourage him to keep going by swirling your well-coated tongue around his tip.

A few more pumps, Satoru is spilling. His abdomen flexes at the intensity, veins popping out in his lower stomach. Your head bobs to match his quick-paced movements, but he’s losing control of himself. Satoru’s thighs flex as he humps up, forcing more of his cock into your throat.

“Baby,” he warns feverishly, gripping tighter on your hair. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming-”

Your head spins at the intensity, barely being able to take a breath. You hum, sending vibrations down his twitching cock.

He groans and whines, yearning for the long-awaited release. His toes curl and his muscled thighs shake as his member shoots long streams of cum down your throat.

“You’re so good to me… So, so good.” The grip on your hair turns into strokes as you swallow all of his seed. Once he relaxes, you slide your mouth from his cock, jaw aching from the rigorous pace. However, that’s not the only part of your body that’s aching.

Your cunt begs to be taken care of as you crawl over a recovering boyfriend, who’s still catching his breath.

The desperation in his eyes has cleared, but the lust still remains. You lick your lips before interlocking with him, your bodies pressed against each other. His hands roam around your back before one slides down to your ass, underneath your underwear. You grunt at how grabby he still is.

“Don’t you want a break?” Though, it’s a ridiculous inquiry, since Satoru’s hard shaft is already rubbing up against your pussy. You both simultaneously moan at the sensation.

“No breaks for you,” he chuckles as he pulls you in for a kiss. “I still need to make you finish. My poor baby has been waiting for me, huh?”

You sneer at his tease. “You cum once and all of a sudden, you’re back to the way you were- Woah!”

In your next blink, you find yourself lying on your back, your recently relieved lover now hovers over you. It really is like looking up at the sky, his glossy eyes shining brighter than the blue sky outside. You feel your entire body heat up as he ogles you from your head to your feet.

“Absolutely divine,” his voice rasps, the cock you just fucked with your throat taps against his thigh, clearly aroused. You rub your thighs together, looking for some relief. “Now, where were we before you sucked me off?”

The edge of his pointer finger traces around your folds, outside of your panties. He knows how much you love the friction, as you grind against his finger, nipples hardening at the action.

You moan softly, enough to capture his attention. “Satoru-”

The star-like gaze you offer sends the message completely. Bending down, Satoru plants a long, passionate kiss as he circles your clit with an additional finger. You squeak against the pleasure, wanting more. More, more, more.

“Why are you so beautiful?” He mumbles, barely pulling away from you. Your saliva connects each other’s lips and no longer having the patience, you take his hair and pull him down.

His flushed chest lies against yours and Satoru leaves open mouth kisses on your neck, hitting all of your major sweet spots before trailing down to your breasts, the same way you did for him not too long ago.

With his long tongue, Satoru teasingly circles around your areola before fully latching onto your nipple, biting and sucking to his heart’s content.

You roll your eyes back to the incredible sensation, a warm shrill traveling around your body. It leaves your cunt even wetter, desperate for parts of Satoru that aren't his fingers.

“You're such a good boy,” a new nickname leaps from your tongue and swims into his ears. Satoru tenses at the pet name, and you can feel the vibrations of his whimper against your breast. Your fingers lace over the strands of his white hair as he continues to play with what seems to be his favorite features of your body.

But even with the jolting sparks of sensitivity those buds provide, it’s not enough to satiate the burning drive in the pit of your belly.

“‘Toru,” you say sloppily, wiggling your hips to the rhythm of his fingers. “I need you- inside me. Fuck me- Please.”

You bite your lip and he lifts his head up, the infatuation still possessing his very being.

His digits leave your clit and instantly, you grind for the missing feeling. Satoru nods as he removes your panties, basking in the beautiful bareness. The slickness laminates your intimate area, something that temporarily captures your partner’s attention.

He supports himself on top of you but furrows his eyebrows.

“No condom.” He displays an innocence in those orbs, mixed with twinges of disappointment. You laugh and shake your head.

“I’m on birth control. You can cum inside me as much as you want now.”

It makes his ears perk, mouth slightly parting from the genuine surprise. You’ve both never done it raw before, but you trust Satoru with your entire life to make this decision.

“Are you… Are you positive?”

“Yes, and my pregnancy results will be negative.” You stick your tongue out at the pun and Satoru laughs at your cheesy joke.

“I love you.” He looks at you earnestly, pressing a light kiss to your lips.

“I love you too.” You say as he lines up the tip to your leaking hole. It’d be a lie to say that you weren’t nervous, but the excitement and the fogginess of your arousal override any negative feeling.

Spreading your legs even wider, Satoru goes in slowly. Thanks to the accumulated fluids you’ve both produced, slipping in comfortably is an easy task. However, your partner struggles to keep his composure at the foreign sensation.

You throw your head back as your body welcomes his cock, no latex rubber blocking the two of you. Of the many acts you’ve done together, this is the first time where it’s just you and him.

“You’re so tight… And g-ood.” He stammers, stopping only halfway. Satoru clenches his teeth to prevent himself from releasing prematurely. Man, thank God he already came once, or the pent-up sensation would’ve ended him. “Oh, you feel so good- taking all of me in.”

He grunts while inching deeper inside of you, nuzzling his face into your neck. You have your mouth pressed against his trapezius, teeth sinking in the skin.

The satisfaction of feeling his heavy balls rest against your entrance enables you to grind on his flesh. The cascades of whimpers fall out of your mouth, beckoning for him to move.

Satoru starts slowly, his arm cradles your neck for support. Breathless moans from his end tickle your neck.

“Faster-” You suggest and your every wish is Satoru’s command. His pace quickens, and the sounds of his skin slapping skin move in a rhythmic beat. “Yes, thank you! Good boy- oh my g-”

Your vision blurs as his cock perfectly hits the g-spot, your legs wrap around his hips to adjust the angle.

Satoru lifts his head up, seeing stars. Tears accumulate at the edge of his eyes, his puffy, red lips practically drooling from the pleasure. He kisses the corners of your lips, whispering.

“Am I good enough for you?” It almost sounds like he’s embarrassed to ask.

The back of your fingers stroke his face before combing through his hair. “Yes baby, you’re always so good for me- so perfect and beautiful. You are more than enough for me- hahhhh… yes, yes, yes!”

Your praises are cut short as you feel a jolt in your stomach. You’re almost there, your calves pull Satoru’s hips, encouraging him to drive faster and harder. He looks like he can barely hold it in.

“My pretty boy is always so good for me-” You coo, repeating the same thing over and over. "Right baby?"

“I- I- Mhmm… ‘m yours.” His red face scrunches, quiet pants turning into loud whines. “I’ll always be yours… Please, mghh- please say that I’m yours- nobody else."

His insecurities flow out of his mouth with no filter stopping him. It’s unfair, but Gojo Satoru hates the burning sensation in his chest, realizing that someone else once belonged to you and you belonged to them.

Instead of jealous rage, he emotes envious fear.

No- he’s yours. Only him and him alone. After all these years, he realizes that he doesn’t want to be alone. Satoru will give you anything and everything to his avail to never leave him.

“Please, please, please…” He begs. Desperate whines accumulate as a free hand cups your bouncing breast. His slick cock twitches in you, yearning for a release. Satoru doesn’t know how much longer he can hold it in, but he needs you to come undone first- his goddess, his everything.

Your hands cup his pink face, forcing him to gaze up at you. Those infatuated pairs he once expressed turn into a gape of restlessness. He still needs to be reassured that your mind, body, and soul belongs to him as he does to you.

“Everything about you is made for me. Your spirit and body are mine.” Your stomach flips as the fire burns higher. Your toes curl as you’re moments away from approaching your orgasm. Satoru’s heart thumps 3 times faster than the pace he’s thrusting in.

“I am yours and you are mine, understand baby?” You continue, head spiraling. Satoru nods vigorously, his own drool pooling down to the side of your face. Oh, how he loves this feeling. His heart is warm and his desires are satisfied all due to your love. “You’re my one and only true love- forever and always. Always my pretty, handsome, perfect boy. Nobody could ever compare to you. Can you say that for me?”

His cock painfully twitches, bits of cum slowly spilling out of his slit. It’s too much. He can’t hold it in anymore.

“I’m yours- ‘m only yours.” He dedicates, in short sputters, saying your name. “I love- mmgh- I love you. Oh my God, -always yours, only yours.”

“I love you, Sa- hahhh- ‘toru!” Your volume rises as you praise his name. It sounds so beautiful as it rolls off your tongue. Your legs clutch tightly around his back, and your body pushes up to press against his.

His hips thrust faster, tightly wrapping his arms around your back and hips to hold you up. Moaning your name, Satoru is in a daze. His momentum is vicious as the animalistic side in him attempts to make an entrance.

“I’m cumming, Satoru! I- I-” You shower him with praises as he finally tips you over the edge. You see flashes of white and shake violently against his hold, gasping as your body rumbles into a turbulent orgasm. Your thighs quake as euphoric bliss travels through your system.

During the start of your orgasm, Satoru begins soon after. With one final thrust, he moans as he sets you back on the bed. His abdomen clenches and small tears spill from his face as his mouth creates an ‘o’ shape. Soon after, he grits his teeth, stammering your name as several long, white ropes shoot out, his love spilling inside of you.

Satoru continues to thrust slowly, riding the high of arguably, his best orgasm of all time. You shudder in his hold, with no words that are worthy enough to process what just happened.

You lazily smile up at the ceiling, combing through his hair, and after a few minutes of silence, he finally pulls out. His cock is drenched in milky rings, and the bedsheets are crumpled and stained with an unjustifiable amount of both of your fluids.

Satoru lies on top of you, speechless. He pants, trying to catch his breath. Even in his most difficult missions, he never had to exert so much air through his lungs until now.

“If you wanted to talk, we could’ve just done that.” You finally break the silence, giggling from the very intense session.

Satoru’s face doesn’t lift from your chest. His eyes flutter as he does a sarcastic eye roll. His cheek splays on your skin, disorienting his speech. “Pfft, that’s boring.”

His fingertips graze over your forearm, trickling down to your wrist and then enveloping your fingers with his. Satoru’s larger thumb massages your knuckles, before bringing them up to his lips.

“You know,” You stir, rocking the hand that’s intertwined with Satoru, side-to-side. The tone you bring is gentle but serious, bringing up something that isn’t the typical lovey post-sex topic you guys would initiate. “There’s no need for you to get jealous over anything, Satoru. You’re the only one I want.”

Slowly, he rises and peers at you, the pearl-white strands dusting over his glossy eyes. “I know... I just didn’t know how to handle what I felt when you talked about another man that wasn’t me.”

“I’m sorry about that, baby. Utahime kept pushing me and I was just really happy to see how she finally found her own love, so I just kept on rambling with her.”

“I should’ve taken a video of her for blackmail.” Satoru scoffs at the lost opportunity.

“However,” you laugh, shifting the conversation. “I did like this jealous side of you. It was cute.”

Gojo’s mouth drops at the comment and some confusion stems from his sentence.“My jealous side is… cute?”

As I stated earlier, I whole-heartedly believe that Gojo would get possessive, in ways that may differ from what other people think. He can take over the whole world with the palm of his hand and force his way to do the unthinkable. But if there’s a rare, uncontrollable factor that could pull whatever or whoever he cherishes away? Then, he gets desperate.

Gojo Satoru would get possessive by clutching onto his loved one, asking if he’s enough, and giving all that he could. After all, he was a gifted child who was the exact norm of perfectionism. So when he sees a competitor who could challenge his being, he’d crumble, get desperate, not knowing what to do.

But, just reassure him that no one could ever beat him.

“Yes, cute! Can we do that again next time?” You giggle at his very prominent pout.

“I’m not the only person that’s switched roles. You’re quite mouthy and feisty when you take charge.” He glares, but softens wholeheartedly at your amusement when his eyes connect with yours.

"I am only yours, right?" Satoru whispers once more, inching closer to your face, hinting at an answer that he wants to hear again and again.

From lust, to fear, to love, those same blue eyes cultivate the same message he had always intended to deliver.