gojo kisser

His bright blue eyes snapped open to see you pouting at him, hands over your already very sore breasts that he had painfully squeezed against his side. "Oh" he frowned, understanding. "It's that week, isn't it?"

You nodded slowly, letting Satoru manoeuvre you on your back so he could rest on his elbow next to you. When you first found out he was tracking your cycle you did call him a freak, but to be honest, it was worth it with how gentle he was with you now.

"Is it really bad?" he asked, tracing soft lines over your collarbone with his free hand. His touch was feather light, his hand apologising to your tender skin.

"It hurts" you exhaled, letting your head sink into the pillow with a long sigh. "They feel heavy"

"Heavy?" Satoru echoed, very obviously looking down to your chest. Naturally, you pinched him. "Ow! What was that for?"

"I'm in pain and you want to check if they're bigger?!" you growled, ready to throw a pillow right on his stupid white hair.

"No no no, you know I think they’re perfect” Satoru apologised immediately, peppering kisses all over your face. "It was for science only"

"Sure" you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't keep the angry act for long, not with your boyfriend's puppy dog eyes so close to your face.

"I mean it, I only want to help" he said, sitting up. And you did believe him – your boyfriend had been trying his best since he figured out how difficult pms was for you.

Last month, he even bought you a personalised hot water bottle with both your initials on it. Baby blue, of course.

You weren't sure who else would be confusing their hot water bottle for yours anyway, but its the gesture that counts.

"Come here baby, I'll help you up" he called to you with wide open arms, but as soon as he started to pull you up, you groaned again. "Is it that bad?" he grimaced, seeing your hands go back to holding onto your sore breasts.

Unfortunately, it was.

"It's ok" you tried to deflect, feeling bad for how worried he seemed. "You don't have to worry about m–"

"None of that" Satoru pouted. "Does that help?" he nodded to your hands, clearly some sort of plan starting to form in that head of his.

"Kind of" you replied, massaging yourself. "Should probably put on a bra" you sighed.

"In bed?!" Satoru shook his messy white hair side to side. "It's unfair" he completed solemnly. And you agreed with him.

But then he opened up his mouth again, with that tone he employed when he was going to suggest something... unusual.

"Why don't you...let me help?"

That made you stop halfway, turning up to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"Just… come here" he said, extending those pale fingers to you. You had one raised eyebrow, but let him do what he had intended – and soon his large palms were closing around your breasts.

"Pervert" you deadpanned.

"You said it helped!" he argued.

You took a moment, considering. You were very used to your boyfriend touching you everywhere, of course, but you had never seen him look so commited about it. It was almost endearing, in a kind of, um, odd way.

"So, what, you'll just be my personal bra today?" you teased.

"If you want me to" he nodded.

"Aren't your arms getting tired?" you narrowed your eyes at him.

"Baby, this is what I train for" he replied smugly.

You let out a little laugh, enjoying your boyfriend's silly plan and how serious he was about it. "You can't possibly keep this up" you joked.

"Wanna bet?"

You shouldn't have said yes. But of course you did.

The rest of the day was spent with Satoru glued to you – more so than usual. "You're enjoying this" you poked him as he stood with his chin on top of your head and his hands right where he promised they'd be, watching you make your morning coffee.

"You wound me, princess" he pretended to sigh. "This is for your own good"

Sure it was.

Later you sat down to watch TV, and Satoru placed you right on his lap, before his hands returned to your chest. "You're ridiculous" you laughed, his chin heavy on your shoulder this time and your back to his chest.

"Is it helping?" he asked.

In truth, it was. He was warm and soft and much more comfortable than a real bra; and walking around like you had been cursed into attachment was lifting your mood as much as it was annoying you too.

His eccentric ways were just one of the things you loved about your boyfriend, after all.

Of course, this all got a bit too ridiculous when you announced you were going to shower, and got followed by the white haired giant all the way into the bathroom. "You can't be serious" you looked up at him.

"I only want to hel–Ow! Ok, I'll be outside"

You laughed, seeing his pout as he closed the door behind him. It was adorable how devoted he was to this stupid plan – and you also couldn't deny you missed his loving touch as soon as he had let go of you.

Maybe he could help you shower too. He only wanted you to feel better, right?

"Satoru" you called, not even surprised when the door opened before you had even finished saying his name.

"Need me?" he grinned from ear to ear.

You would have pinched him again if he wasn't so damn adorable.

my boobs feel like they're about to explode and this is what came of it I don't know what else to say

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Though, you supposed that wasn’t necessary. If everything went well you would be back home by the end of the day.

Home.

The word left a strange taste in your mouth.

Qifrey stepped into your eyesight, gesturing at you.

“We’ll need that.” Qifrey spoke more to Olruggio than you.

Your brows pulled together, “Need what?” You didn’t try hard to keep the bite from your words. Qifrey had already annoyed you downstairs. He deserved every last fragment of bite you could will into your tone. 

He tilted his head as if only to get a rile out of you before his eyes darted down to your collarbones. “Your necklace. The spell.”

You blinked.

Of course. What else would he have meant? Heat rose to your cheeks as you looked anywhere but at him. Your eyes settled onto the far left of the room where there hung a sliver of fabric from the ceiling. 

You frowned, “Is that a hammock?"

Olruggio sighed, still behind you before he stepped forward.

You didn’t dare turn around. Standing toe to toe with the two men downstairs in the open area of the kitchen was one thing. Here, in the cosy confines of one of their bedrooms? You didn’t know how long you could maintain that steadfast annoyance here.

You willed down the shiver threatening to break as Olruggio stopped just short of you. You felt the air part slightly as his hand came up to hover over your frame before pausing.

“Your hair.”

A few loose strands of your hair danced with the exhale of his breath, fanning across the bare skin of your shoulders.

You wished you hadn’t forgotten your cardigan downstairs, but–anoyingly– Qifrey was right. It was hot.

You were so lost in your own thoughts you had forgotten Olly’s murmur. That was until Qifrey stepped forward to your side, with more courage than Olruggio, and slipped nimble fingers under the blanket of your hair. 

You shivered at the feeling of his fingers skimming the sensitive nape of your neck, searching for the clasp on your necklace. 

As if suddenly grasping your bearing you hissed in annoyance, stepping out of their space with a swift slap to Qifrey’s hand.

“I am perfectly capable of removing my own necklace.”

Your hands wound behind your neck to do just that. Once removed you tossed it to Qifrey who caught it with annoying ease.

“Regardless, it won’t help much.” You turned to level Olruggio with a stare, “The spell’s already been cast. It’s over now. I’ll have to write a new one to unbind us.”

He nodded, drawing his lower lip in between his teeth in thought. “So, it’s a matter of trial and error now then?”

You nodded, turning to scan the tables splayed across the room for components.

Qifrey hardly looked up from examining the necklace before he muttered something about a cabinet.

Your eyes narrowed, ready to retort before Olruggio brushed past you towards a row of cabinets on the far side of the room. 

“Any preference on a pen?”

Your gaze didn’t stray from Qifrey as your hard expression softened slightly into contemplation. How had Qifrey known you were looking for components?

Qifrey looked up, feeling the heat of your gaze before sighing, shaking his head. “Don’t look so surprised. There was a time I knew you inside and out.”

There. He did it again. It was as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. Though you supposed he was right. There was a time he knew everything there was to know about you and you about him.

You fought down the look of surprise threatening to creep onto your face, instead looking towards Olruggio and shaking your head.  “I can work with whatever pen you have. It makes no difference to me.”

“But you like the ones with more space near the bottom so you can shift your grip.”

You cut another sharp look towards QIfrey. How you wished he wasn’t right so you could snap something clever back at him.

Olruggio nodded, “I still have your old one.”

Your narrowed eyes widened. You stepped away from Qifrey towards Olruggio, meeting him halfway across the room before plucking the pen from his grip. It was your old one.

You couldn’t help the breathy laugh that pushed past your lips as you turned the slender wood over in your palm. 

He had kept it. It was almost as if he had known. 

You shook your head.

No, it was as if he had hoped you would come back. How long would he have held onto that hope you wondered.

You looked up at him to find his gaze trained intently on you– on your reaction. You blinked looking away.

“I’ll need paper aswell.”

He didn’t move, as if the question hadn't been processed yet as he stayed staring at you. After a beat he nodded, gesturing towards a table behind you.

You turned and sure enough, a pile of paper laid there ready for your use. You sat, shuffling a bit to get into a comfortable position. Your fingers closed around the metal nib of your pen, jostling it a bit as if to check if it was still secure. It was. 

Your spell went wrong because you drew crescents at the end of your arrows. That made a sort of shield, reflecting that outward energy back inward. That was why instead of being launched away from one another, you had been pulled closer. That was your guess at least.

You dipped the nib into the well of ink at your side, tapping the tip against the glass before bringing the pen to the paper, hovering. 

You felt Qifrey and Olruggio creep closer to you, watching your moves intently. 

Your pen hovered over the paper.

To reverse the spell's effects, you only had to break the shield. A line through the crescent should do the trick.

Your brows pinched together. Your hand remained unmoved. 

You had a prediction– a course of action. So why couldn’t you act on it? Why was your hand stopping just short of the paper? 

A small, traitorous part of your mind laughed. Perhaps it was because you didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to lose this short three day reprieve. 

You bit down on your lip hard, as if trying to punish your subversive thoughts. No, you had made your choice long before. You couldn’t go back now. There was nothing to come back to. 

Your eyes darted up meeting Qifrey’s. You wished his expression was hard with frustration or even that cold anger you knew he could wield. You wished it was anything but that soft understanding he currently wore. 

You shook your head as your traitorous hands began to tremble.

Olruggio’s hand settled on your shoulder, light and tentative as if scared any push from him might make you bolt. Not that you could go very far.

“You're overthinking.” Qifrey’s voice wasn’t accusatory. You wished it was. It would have been easier to pretend you were just annoyed and felt nothing else about all of this– about them.

“I’m not.” To your credit, your voice came out a lot more steady than you felt.

Olruggio’s hand had moved to the small of your back, rubbing away the tension with small circles. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to feel too embarrassed as your shoulders slowly began to unbunch.

“You always hover like that when you’re overthinking.”Qifrey pushed.

You felt a flicker of something sad snake up your chest, leaving you in the form of a sigh, “Don’t pretend to know me.”

Olruggio’s hand stuttered as Qifrey’s mouth pressed into a thin line. You instantly wished you could have taken it back, though to your relief Qifrey just shook his head, looking away.

“You always tap your pen twice when you're sure. You’ve tapped it five times now.”

Your eyes shot down to your hand, frozen just short of the ink well, prepping to tap against it again.

You closed your eyes, cursing to yourself.

“What aren’t you convinced of?” Olruggio mumbled, so softly you could have cried.

Horrified, you suddenly realized you might actually cry. Your lids pressed tightly shut, willing away the mistyness in your eyes as you breathed in a shaky breath.

“You’re scared.” Qifrey’s quiet accusation seemed to pull the last bit of air out from your lungs. 

You willed your wobbling lip to still, “It I alter the wrong thing–” You cursed quietly as your voice broke off.

Neither of them commented on the tremors in your hands or the wobbling of your voice which you found yourself immensely grateful for. 

You cleared your throat staring again, “If I alter the wrong thing, I don’t know what will happen.”

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting the furrowed gazes of Qifrey and Olruggio.

The former nodded, as if several puzzle pieces had just fallen into place, “You're not hesitating because you don’t know. You’re hesitating because this is the first line you’ve ever been afraid to draw.”

You gnawed at your lower lip, not missing the way his gaze fell down to trace your movements before they moved back up so quick you weren't even sure it happened.

Olruggio squeezed your hip before moving back up to rub at your back, in an attempt to steady your trembling form.

“You’re accounting for every possibility.” He hummed, thoughtfully. “What if it binds us tighter, what if it breaks something else–”

“What if it throws us farther apart?”

Your voice was so quiet you hadn’t even realized you said anything if not for Olruggio’s hand on your back stilling. 

You looked up to find Qifrey’s face pinched into a pained expression, though mercifully he wasn’t looking at you. No, his gaze was trained on Olruggio to your right as they wordlessly communicated again.

Your eyes fell down to your hand still hovering over the paper. You willed it down to make a stroke on line or even a dot. Your fingers gripped your old pen in a vice-like grip. You noticed how your fingers still molded to the wood perfectly. The weight of the wand felt so familiar.

Your vision blurred with tears of frustration or fear you didn’t quite know.

A drip of ink fell from your pen onto the paper below, leaving a large, ugly blot of black.

You sucked in a breath.

Qifrey’s hand moved up to tenderly cup your face, his thumb swiping away the tear that had trailed down your cheek.

His gaze dropped down to your hand as if contemplating pulling the pen away from your grip entirely. Perhaps it was your white-knuckled grip that deterred him from acting on that.

“Im scared.” The words left you in a rushed jumble. It was a miracle that either of them could decipher it.

Olruggio pushed a strand of hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear. You couldn’t help but chase his touch.

“I’m terrified.” You whispered, slower this time. You nodded to yourself, pursing your lips in a sad, watery smile.

“The moment I write a line…” You shook your head, frowning as you considered what it was you wanted to say. “Whatever happens next, it’s permanent.”

You wondered if they could tell you weren’t talking about the spell. 

Your eyes clenched shut again, cursing yourself. This was terrible. You were terrible. You had no right to want this. To want them. After everything. After what you had chosen to become. You had no right to be on the receiving end of their comforting touches and longing looks. 

You gasped in shallow breaths “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Then don’t”

You looked up at Qifrey. You didn’t realize his hand still cupped your face despite the fact that you had nestled so far into his touch your neck was at a visible crook. 

Though it wasn’t his hand still at your face that made your lower lip wobble again. It was the fact that his previously hardened face had softened into something so tender– so familiar– it ached in your chest. 

His thumb swept back and forth against your cheek bone.

“What?” You breathed out.

“Don’t write it.” Olruggio affirmed from your other side. His fingers played idly with the baby hairs at the nape of your neck, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

You looked up at him through watery lashes.

His gaze lingered at the way your brows were pinched together causing fine divots in your forehead. His eyes traced down the paths of your tears down to your trembling lip caught between your teeth. 

He pulled his hand from its spot against your neck so slowly you wondered what he must have been scared of. Or perhaps he was only trying not to spook you. His hand finally stilled just short of your mouth. His knuckles rested lightly against your chin as his thumb pulled the flesh of your lip free from your teeth.

“Don’t write it.” He repeated, so simply. “Not until you're certain.”

He looked toward Qifrey who nodded, “We’ll figure something else out.”

You couldn’t help the tiny, disbelieving laugh that pushed from your lips, “You two are still impossible.”

You wished you could believe them you truly did. But nothing would change the fact that in four days the Brimmed Caps were coming, regardless of whatever declarations you were sure were dancing on the tips of Qifrey and Olruggio’s tongues.

Your gaze fell back to the paper, finally pressing the nib to the sheet before Qifrey’s hand closed around yours, halting your movements.

You blinked up at him, pleading, but he only shook his head.

“Not like this.”

It didn’t take any force from him to pull the pen from your now lax grip, placing the slender wood on the table. 

“Let’s eat.” Olruggio offered, holding out his hand to you. 

You stared at it.

Once, taking his hand had felt intuitive– something that required no thought at all. Now it felt like crossing an ocean. 

You raised your hand before pausing, just short of his outstretched grip. 

Your gaze wandered to Qifrey. The corner of his mouth had softened into the smallest smile, one that reached his eyes in a way you hadn't seen in years. 

You felt your own lip curve up instinctually, mirroring his. You turned back to look at Olruggio.

You were selfish. It had been seven years and you still couldn’t leave this behind. 

Your head tilted as you took in Olruggio’s face. His usually hard set lines had softened into something fond. 

He hadn't moved. He simply waited.

Your fingers slipped against his, warm and familiar.

His hand closed around yours with impossible gentleness, as though he feared anything firmer might make you disappear again.

Gently, he pulled you up. 

Qifrey followed suit, briefly grasping your hand to give it the faintest squeeze before leaving the pair of you to open the door. 

Before the spell could tug at your waist, you found yourself taking a step after him.

Nothing had changed. The spell remained unbroken, the days still numbered. And yet, for the first time since arriving, you let yourself breathe. 

Tomorrow would still come. But for tonight, you let it wait.

a/n: This was so fun to write! I think this is gonna be the last part unless I get inspired to end this in a more concrete way or I get a real specific ask or something. But I hope it provides some sense of conclusion! Hope you guys liked!!

Taglist: As always, comment to be added!

you flipped a page in your notebook and underlined something that absolutely did not need underlining, just to have somewhere to put your hands.

“did you,” he started, sitting up straighter now, all his earlier ease draining out of him, “did you seriously just gojo me?”

“can we please get back to the agenda,” you said, addressing the room in general rather than him specifically.

nanami cleared his throat and tried to steer things back on track. “as i was saying, the eastern district has seen an uptick in curse activity over the past—”

“she gojo’d me,” satoru interrupted, loud enough that the whole table heard it, staring at you with the wounded expression of a man who had just watched his house burn down in front of him. “in front of everyone. she used my last name like i’m a substitute teacher.”

you still didn’t look at him. you clicked your pen closed, then open again, then closed, a habit you knew drove him up the wall, and said nothing at all.

“focus, gojo,” you said again, watching the way his whole soul seemed to leave his body when you said it a second time was a little more satisfying than you’d expected.

“okay. okay, everybody hold on,” satoru said, raising both hands like he was trying to talk down an actual hostage situation. “nobody move, nobody speak, something has gone horribly wrong here. she just used my government name. in public. on purpose.”

“that is your name,” nanami pointed out, deadpan, not even looking up from his own notes.

“not to her it isn’t! not in four years has she ever once called me gojo, and now suddenly, out of nowhere, in the middle of a staff meeting, she’s talking to me like i’m a stranger she met at the post office—” he turned to you again, voice climbing with real panic now. “okay, you know what, meeting’s over, everyone go home, thank you for coming, we’ll reschedule—”

“the meeting,” yaga said flatly, unimpressed, “is not over.”

“it is for me!” satoru stood so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor, then leaned across the table toward you, blindfold slipping further down his forehead, genuine desperation creeping into his voice. “what did i do. just tell me what i did and i’ll fix it. is this about the mission partner thing? it’s the mission partner thing, isn’t it. i can undo it. i can un-fix the fixing. i can grovel right here in front of everyone if that’s what this requires—”

you finally looked up to deliver the final blow with the sweetest, most devastating calm you could manage:

“i’m not sure what you mean, gojo. we’re in the middle of a meeting.”

that was the moment the room completely lost it. shoko was laughing so hard into her coffee cup that she had to set it down entirely, wiping at her eyes. nanami pressed a hand over his face like he was praying for the strength to survive this job for one more day. even yaga, who never smiled during meetings on principle, was clearly biting back one now, badly.

“that’s it,” satoru said, dropping back into his chair. “fine. that’s fine. be like that. see if i care. i am literally the strongest sorcerer in the world and i am being disrespected in my own place of employment, in front of my own coworkers, by my own—” he lowered his voice for the last part, leaning toward you like it was a secret, “—girlfriend, who apparently doesn’t remember that we live together and that i know exactly what cereal she eats and exactly what she looks like without—”

“gojo,” nanami cut in, exhausted, “please let the meeting continue.”

“see! even he can feel that something is deeply wrong here! the temperature in this room actually dropped! shoko, did the temperature just drop or was that just me—”

you allowed yourself the smallest, most private smile, tucked safely behind the cover of your notebook, as the strongest sorcerer alive continued to unravel in real time over exactly one syllable of his own last name, in front of the entire senior staff of jujutsu high, on a random tuesday morning.

by the time you got home that evening, satoru had clearly spent the whole day rehearsing something, because the second you walked through the door he was already there, hovering, almost vibrating with nervous energy like a dog that knows it did something wrong but isn’t sure what.

“okay so,” he said, following you into the kitchen, “i’ve been thinking about this literally all day, and i want to formally apologize, on the record, for the mission partner thing, and also i want to say, for the record, that what you did today was actually kind of terrifying and i need you to never do it again.”

“do what,” you said, setting your bag down like you had no idea what he could possibly mean, even though you absolutely did.

“you know what,” he said, sliding an arm around your waist from behind before you could even take your jacket off, chin dropping onto your shoulder. “the gojo thing. please. i’m begging you. never again.”

“it’s your name,” you said, echoing nanami from earlier, and you felt him groan directly into your shoulder.

“it is not my name when you say it like that,” he mumbled. “when you say it like that it sounds like you’re breaking up with me in front of witnesses. i had to sit there for an entire meeting wondering if this was it, if this was the day my girlfriend decided she’d had enough of me and was breaking the news.”

you turned around in his arms, biting back a laugh, and he immediately seized the opportunity to rest his forehead against yours, eyes closed like he was bracing for more punishment.

“so you admit you deserved it,” you said.

“i admit nothing,” he said, “except that i am deeply, deeply sorry, and that i will never again swap your mission partner without telling you first, and that if you ever call me gojo again in public i will actually die.”

“say please.”

“please,” he said immediately, no hesitation at all, pulling you in tighter like he was worried you might change your mind and use his last name right there in the kitchen just to torture him further. “please, please, i’ll do anything, i’ll even do paperwork, just—just be normal about it. call me anything else. call me an idiot, call me insufferable, i don’t care, just not that.”

“fine,” you said, finally letting the smile show. “satoru.”

the relief on his face was almost embarrassing, the way his whole body seemed to unclench at once, like you’d just lifted some enormous curse off him.

“thank you,” he said, dramatic as ever, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then finally your mouth. “never again. i mean it. that was the scariest six words of my entire life and i’ve fought curses that wanted to eat my ass.”

“it was one word,” you pointed out.

“it felt like six,” he said, and pulled you into a hug so tight it nearly knocked the breath out of you, laughing into your hair, all traces of this morning’s fight forgiven, or at least thoroughly overridden by how badly he never wanted to hear his own last name from you again.