Forever yours.
⤿ Satoru Gojo × reader
Summary, The only reason why you even agreed to marry him was for your father. Now you wish you could go back in time and reject the offer.
Warning/ tags; angst, profanity, smoking, cursing, smut, cheating, mean gojo,
Genre; angst, cheating, infidelity, jik, Gojou × reader
Notes: the tag-list is open if you'd like to be mentioned everytime i update just send me a message also sorry any of the spelling errors.
9k words
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It had been a few months since then, going to your honeymoon on July, and now it was November with Thanksgiving just around the corner. The autumn leaves were turning shades of red, orange, and yellow, reminding you of the honeymoon you and your spouse had taken just a few months ago.
Despite the fact that you and Satoru had been married for quite some time now, your relationship seemed to be stuck in a rut. He continued to ignore you, never joining you for dinner or spending time with you in the large mansion you had moved into. It was as if nothing had changed between the two of you.
You couldn't help but feel anxious and nervous as you waited for the results. It had been a rollercoaster of emotions for the past few months, with Satoru's constant reminders and tracking of your ovulation and periods. Now, all you could do was wait for the pregnancy test to give you the answer you were desperately hoping for, or dreading.
The anxiety and fear of a potential pregnancy weighed heavily on your mind as you waited for the results. You couldn't help but think about how your life would change if the test turned out positive. Would you be ready for motherhood? Would Satoru be ready to become a father? You hated to admit it but deep down you were hoping for a negative result.
As you stared at the calendar, your eyes scanned over the days until they finally landed on one that stood out to you. "Most likely to get pregnant." The bright red letters seemed to jump off the page, catching your attention and bringing back vivid memories.
You remembered that day so clearly - coming home from a family party with Satoru, feeling hurt and insulted by his words and actions, yet still unable to resist him when he made love to you. It was a painful reminder of the complicated and toxic dynamic between the two of you.
Despite spending a significant amount of time with him, you couldn't help but feel like there was a lack of connection between the two of you. There were days when it seemed like he was just tolerating your presence, and on other days, he would completely ignore you. Your hands would often tremble in his presence, and you couldn't understand why. Perhaps it was the feeling of uncertainty and unease that he brought to the table, leaving you with an unsettling feeling whenever you were around him.
The thought of Satoru being the father of your child filled you with dread and anxiety. You couldn't help but feel sick to your stomach, unsure if it was from the potential pregnancy or the overwhelming emotions you were experiencing.
The idea of bringing a child into a world of parents who despised each other was overwhelming and you couldn't help but question if this was really the best option for you and your child.
There was one major secret you hadn’t told your husband. Most of the women in your family, including your mother, had suffered from fertility issues. Your mother had experienced three miscarriages, and it was a common occurrence for babies in your family to not make it past the first trimester of pregnancy.
The fear of not being able to have a child of your own consumed your every thought. You were too afraid to go for testing and receive a definitive answer. Your mind raced with all the possible outcomes and you couldn't sit still, pacing back and forth from your room.
The thumps of your sole foot could be heard, a physical manifestation of your anxiety. You were so anxious, you wanted to scream and rip out your hair in frustration.
Once, only once in your life you had actually went to go test your fertility. Once you had gotten the results back you were too afraid to look at them. At the time Toji was still your boyfriend, he had reassured you that he didn’t care if you were infertile or not because all he cared was that he had you.
So you did what most people would do, you threw the dumb envelope away and never thought about it since. But yet the thought came to mind now. How would satoru react about this?
Your mind wandered to the contract you had signed with him. It was a business marriage, a union of convenience. You had no love for each other, no emotional connection. The only thing you could provide for him was your body, your uterus, and the ability to bear his child.
You were nothing but a means to an end, a tool in his pursuit of success. You ran your fingers through your hair, feeling trapped and suffocated in this loveless arrangement. Suddenly, the loud sound of your alarm going off startled you out of your thoughts, reminding you of the reality you were living in.
Your hand trembled as you slowly walked towards your drawer, where the pregnancy test awaited. Your heart practically jumping out of your chest with each step. You hated to admit it, but you really did hope the test would come back negative.
The thought of being pregnant at this point in your life was terrifying. You reached for the test, your hand shaking as you turned it over to look at the result. For a moment, the whole world seemed to stop moving. It was like those dramatic scenes in a movie when a character finds out something life-changing.
You held your breath as you stared at the small window, waiting for the result to appear.
You let out a deep sigh of relief, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared at the negative test in your hand. The weight of anxiety and fear lifted off your shoulders, and for a brief moment, you felt a sense of pure joy and happiness.
You couldn't believe you had finally received the answer you had been hoping for. Suddenly, the urge to celebrate overwhelmed you, and you wanted nothing more than to jump up and down in excitement.
But as you were about to do so, your bedroom door flew open, and your tall, white-haired husband stormed in, his expensive Christian Louboutin shoes making a loud thumping noise on the hardwood floor. Immediately, your celebration came to an end as you braced yourself for whatever was about to come.
Your husband stood before you, unbuttoning the sleeves of his immaculate white dress shirt, his expression unreadable. You knew that something was wrong, and your moment of relief was quickly replaced with a sense of dread.
You felt a wave of panic wash over you as you hastily shoved the pregnancy test into one of your drawers. Turning around, you put on a smile and walked towards your husband, helping him out of his suit and hanging it neatly in your closet.
Your heart sank as you noticed the stained red lipstick on the neckline of his suit. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as you remembered that Jiyuu was one of his representatives in his business. You forced a smile and asked, "How was work?" trying to hide your true emotions.
You pursed your lips, a hint of disappointment evident on your face. "It was good," he said, noticing your reaction as you hung the suit up.
You silently walked back towards the room, Satoru was shirtless, rummaging through his closet for a shirt to wear. You couldn't help but admire his toned physique and the way his muscles flexed as he searched for a shirt.
Your mind wandered, imagining what it would feel like to run your hands over his chest. You quickly shook the thought from your mind, reminding yourself that he care for you.
"That's nice," you said with a small smile, feeling a twinge of nervousness as you bit the inside of your cheek.
You knew you shouldn't be pushing his buttons, let alone asking about his lover, but you just couldn't take it anymore. The anxious nights of awaiting his arrival, only to have him come home late or not at all, were taking a toll on you.
There were days where you couldn't even sleep without him by your side, and the constant worry and doubt were consuming your thoughts.
Yet, you couldn't stop yourself from asking about his whereabouts and who he was with, hoping for some reassurance or closure. But each time, the conversation just ended in more frustration and heartache.
“Satoru?” You felt a pang of jealousy and anger as you watched Satoru dress himself, trying to hide the evidence of his infidelity. His back, strong and toned from his workouts, was a reminder of how attractive he was to other women.
You couldn't help but notice the hickies on his neck, the scent of Burberry her perfume lingering in the air, and the red lipstick stains on his collar. You were tired of pretending not to see these signs of his unfaithfulness, but you couldn't bring yourself to confront him about it.
You hated how he made you feel insecure and unworthy, but you couldn't seem to walk away from him either. The constant inner turmoil was draining and exhausting, but you were willing to endure it for a chance to be with him.
He hummed, turning to face you. You felt the anger bubbling up inside of you as you looked at him, his casual demeanor and nonchalant attitude driving you insane. “Are you still seeing Jiyuu?” Your fists clenched at your sides as you resisted the urge to lash out at him.
His nonchalant attitude towards your feelings only added fuel to the fire, making you want to punch him even more. You could feel the hurt and betrayal in your gaze as you looked at him.
With a defeated sigh, his words stung as he spoke, "There's no reason for me to lie anymore. Jiyuu, she's the woman I love. Not you." His tone was harsh and final as he turned and walked away, leaving you to process the heart-wrenching truth.
The realization that you were not the one he loved, despite all your efforts, was a hard pill to swallow.
You followed him, feeling a surge of anger and betrayal. You couldn't believe he was with her again. He always seemed to have an excuse, whether it was work or hanging out with friends, but you knew the truth.
Your gut told you that he was always with her, and the evidence was becoming harder to ignore. You couldn't understand why he would continue to lie and break your trust.
"Stop pretending you care, stop trying to love me Y/N. All you're going to do is make things worse," he said with a resigned sigh. You were taken aback by his words, feeling like you had been punched in the gut.
You wanted to break down and cry, but you knew it would only push him away further. You couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to be comforted by him, to have him hold you and tell you everything would be okay.
But deep down, you knew that would never happen.
"Please," he began, his voice filled with hesitation as he turned to walk away from you once again. The irony was not lost on you - it seemed that everyone in your life had a tendency to walk away from you. Whether it was a friend, a family member, or a romantic partner, it always ended the same way.
You hated the feeling of begging and appearing so desperate. It made you feel small and unworthy, especially when you had to plead with your own husband. "Please Satoru, we're married. Can't you spare some time for me?" you would say, hoping for a glimmer of attention or affection.
The man's long, veiny hand ran through his shock of white hair as he licked his lips, his face coming dangerously close to yours. You could feel his hot breath on your skin as he spoke. "Fine," he growled. "My friends are going to a cabin this weekend." The intensity of his gaze made you feel uneasy.
Your eyes glimmered, a cabin. You always wanted to go to a cabin, one with snow. “Just me and you?” He nodded before slamming the door.
Why?
Why did the world have to be so cruel to you?
As you walked along the coastline, you could feel a gentle caress on your skin as the warm sand touched your feet. The grainy texture of the sand added a dimension of realism that heightened your sensory experience. The sensation of moving through the fine-grained sand was both soothing and invigorating, evoking a sense of tranquility and connection with the natural world.
The sand beneath your feet had a texture that was both soft and coarse. It felt comfortable as it massaged the soles of your feet, but it also provided a sturdy base that supported you as you walked.
He stood there, his hair flowing gently in the wind. The gusty breeze rushed through his face, causing his eyes to flutter slightly.
"Toji?" you called out, your voice filled with a mixture of excitement and concern.
Toji's face lit up when he saw you, a smile spreading across his face. He took a few steps towards you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection.
"Hey," he said, his voice echoing in the silence of the open field.
You ran to him, throwing your hands behind his neck, holding him so tight you felt his heartbeat through his chest. The feeling of his warm embrace brought tears to your eyes as you realized how much you had missed him. In that moment, nothing else mattered except being in his arms and feeling his love.
what did you do to deserve this?
A shiver ran down your spine as his hand gently touched your cheek, his forehead pressed against yours. You couldn't help but get lost in his intense gaze, his dark blue eyes seeming to look into the depths of your soul.
It felt so real.
"I love you," he whispered, his voice full of emotion as he looked at you with such tenderness. His hands, rough from years of hard work, gently caressed your skin, making your heart swell with love for him. Tears formed in your eyes as you realized how much you wanted this life with him, full of love and happiness.
The thought of him moving on and finding someone else to share his life with was unbearable. It was as if a part of you was being ripped away. His touch, his kiss, his presence - it all felt like home to you.
You couldn't imagine anyone else taking your place by his side. You wanted to be the one to spend forever with him, to grow old together and experience all of life's ups and downs by his side. The thought of someone else filling that role was too painful to even consider. You couldn't let him go. He was your soulmate, your other half.
Tears fell down, knowing that one day you would never find someone who loved and cherished you as much as you loved and cherished him.
"You have to let me go Y/N." He pulled away from you. There it was that stupid geniune smile he always gave you. You broke down sobbing on his chest as he held you.
Why did your brain have to do this to you?
He cupped your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. "I promise you, I'll always love you." You shook your head, unable to accept his words
"I don't want to lose you," you cried. "I can't imagine my life without you." He gently wiped away your tears, his expression filled with sadness.
"I know, but it's for the best," he said softly. You didn't want to let him go, but you knew deep down that he was right. You hugged him tighter, trying to hold onto the moment for as long as you could.
"Toji, before I go," You said the sunset casting a golden light on his perfect face. You couldn't help but admire him, even in this bittersweet moment.
"Why couldn't you just stop the wedding?" Your voice cracked as you asked the question, tears welling up in your eyes. "Why didn't you just run away with me?" You couldn't understand why he didn't choose you, why he couldn't see that you were meant to be together.
Your heart ached at the thought of being Satoru's wife instead of his, but you couldn't bring yourself to say it out loud. The pain was too much to bear.
With a heavy heart, he looked at you with a bittersweet smile, gently tucking a stray hair behind your ear. "Y/N, I knew I couldn't stop the wedding because deep down, I know I'll never be able to provide for you as well as he can."
He continued to look at you with a mixture of sadness and love, knowing that he had to let you go. "But I promise to always be there for you, no matter what. You deserve all the happiness in the world and I hope he can give that to you." With one last gentle touch, he turned and walked away, leaving you to contemplate his bittersweet words.
You stood there, his touch still lingering on your skin. The memories of your time together flooded back, each one stinging like a fresh wound. As you watched him walk away, you couldn't help but feel a sense of loss and regret. You whispered, "We almost had it all," knowing that things could have been different if only you had made different choices. But now, as he disappeared from your sight, you knew it was too late.
You were so in love with Toji, and it wasn't just because he was there to heal your heart after the previous relationship left it shattered. It was because he was your true love, the one who knew you better than anyone else. Every morning, he would hold you tightly, cherishing the sight of your bare face and your plump lips.
Even with morning breath, he didn't care because being with you was all that mattered to him. He would always be there to hold you, to kiss you tenderly, and to remind you of just how much you mean to him. Every moment with him felt like a dream come true, and you couldn't imagine your life without him.
However, things quickly changed when you met your now current husband. The arranged marriage ruined everything for you and Toji, destroying the perfect life you had imagined since you first started dating. The apartment, the cat, and the financial stability were all gone, along with the hope of a future together. Now, you are left with a broken heart and shattered dreams..
As you stood frozen on the beach, you could feel your heart shatter into a million pieces. You wanted to scream his name, to beg him to stay, but your voice was lost in the overwhelming pain and shock. With a loud thump, your knees hit the sand, the impact almost jolting you out of your trance.
Your hands instinctively gripped the fabric of your skirt, as if trying to cling onto some sense of stability. And as the tears fell from your eyes, you could feel the weight of your heartache slowly drip down your face.
You awoke, tears streaming down your face. You stared at the laces of your boots. The sound of the wind blowing waking you up. The trip to the cabin was at least 4 hours.
The pounding headache that had not been present when you woke up this morning was now throbbing behind your eyes, making it difficult to focus on anything else.
You were dressed to impress, wearing black flared pants that accentuated your legs, paired with your favorite Chanel boots that added a touch of luxury to your outfit. Your tight red turtle neck hugged your figure perfectly, highlighting your curves in all the right places.
Satoru, on the other hand, opted for a more comfortable yet classy look. He wore a cozy sweater, with a long white t-shirt peeking out underneath. His blue Dickies pants were held up by a stylish Gucci belt.
Your muscles ached from sitting in the same position for hours on end. As you shifted in your seat, you could feel the soreness spreading through your body, making it hard to focus on anything else. Satoru’s black Tucker jacket was stretched on your thighs. Nervously you began to play with the collar.
You wanted to get up and stretch, but the stern expression on Satoru's face made you think twice. You could tell he was deep in thought and didn't want to be disturbed, so you pursed your lips and remained silent.
You couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if things were different. In another universe, perhaps you and Satoru could have a great relationship. Maybe you could even be more than just friends. You couldn't deny the fact that Satoru was incredibly attractive, with his charm and poise only adding to his perfection.
You checked your phone, clicking on the small button for it to turn on. Great, no service. You threw it back inside your purse before looking out the window. The snow continuously falling down as you made your way to your cabin.
Maybe in another life, he had met his true love and they lived a happy life together. Perhaps you both could have had fulfilling relationships with your own partners, instead of being stuck in an unhappy marriage.
As you caught sight of the cabin nestled in the woods, you felt a wave of relief wash over you. Multiple cars, all of them expensive models, were parked in the front, giving you a sense of security.
You sat up straighter in your seat, mentally preparing yourself for the meeting ahead, and gathered all your belongings as Satoru expertly parked the car next to a sleek and luxurious Rolls-Royce.
As you stepped out of the car, the cold air nipped at your exposed skin. You shivered and pulled your coat tighter around you, grateful for the warmth it provided.
Satoru, noticing your discomfort, immediately came over to you and took his jacket from your hands, gently putting it on. You smiled gratefully at him as he wrapped his arm around your waist, leading you towards your destination.
As Satoru closed the car door, he reached for your hand, intertwining his long fingers with yours. You felt a sense of security and warmth flood through you as you admired the beauty of the cabin. The snow falling gently around the roof added to the picturesque scene, making it even more enchanting.
"Satoru!" You instantly recognized the voice of the woman. Her long, brown hair swayed as she made her way towards the two of you, a bright smile on her face.
The woman embraced Satoru, pulling him close in a warm hug. As she stepped back, you recognized her as the lady from the party in Santorini. "I'm so glad you could make it," she said with a smile, gesturing for you both to come inside.
"It's freezing out here." You could see her breath in the cold winter air, her words serving as a reminder of the chilly weather outside.
The only thing different about her was the baby bump she was missing. Satoru, with his long and lean figure, walked alongside you as you made your way towards the entrance. His height was quite impressive, making you feel small in comparison. As Shoko beckoned you to join her inside, you eagerly followed, not wanting to waste any time.
As you entered the warm, bustling room, you took a moment to take in the scene. The majority of the guests from the party were already here, chatting and laughing with each other.
You quickly removed your boots, shaking off the snow and placed them by the door. Your feet were cold, so you grabbed your trusty pair of uggs and slipped them on, feeling the warmth and comfort immediately.
As you and Satoru walked inside, you couldn't help but notice the stares of everyone around you. Many of them were his friends, who you had met during your time together. One of them, feeling sympathetic, offered to take your luggage to your room for you.
You gratefully handed it over, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. It was a small gesture, but it meant a lot to you in that moment. You gave him a smile and a word of thanks before turning back to Satoru.
You found yourself comfortably seated on the plush couch. Everyone seemed to be engaged in conversations, their voices blending together in a pleasant symphony. From the couch, you had a clear view of the room, filled with warm lighting and cozy furnishings.
"So Shoko, where exactly is the baby?" Satoru inquired, removing his jacket and draping it over your lap. As he did so, you couldn't help but notice his veiny hands, a common feature of his. He placed his hand on your thigh, the veins popping out even more prominently.
"Hes sleeping but once hes awake your one of the first people he’ll meet," she said with a smile. She got up from the couch and walked towards the kitchen.
Satoru felt a sudden jolt as a hand was placed on his shoulder, causing him to snap his neck in surprise to see who it was. His eyes widened as he recognized the person standing behind him - Geto.
His friend “Getou” was tall, towering over most people he encountered. His long black hair was usually tied back in a ponytail, but today it hung loosely around his face. He was dressed in all black, a black sweatshirt and matching black pants that seemed to be a staple in his wardrobe.
However, his appearance was overshadowed by the noticeable dark circles under his eyes, hinting at the fact that he was having trouble sleeping. He looked tired and worn out, as if he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Feeling a sense of loneliness, you watched as Satoru quickly got up and left, seemingly forgetting about your existence. As you sat alone, people stopped by to ask about your well-being and how your marriage was going, but it was something you had grown accustomed to.
The constant inquiries and reminders of your failed marriage only added to the feeling of isolation and heartache.
"Y/N!" Surprisingly, you instantly recognized that voice as your college friend. Your heart warmed as you turned to face her, a huge smile spreading across your face. It had been years since you last saw each other, but it felt like no time had passed at all.
As you saw your old friend, "Utahime?", you couldn't help but break into a wide smile. Your cheeks began to hurt from the sheer joy and excitement of seeing her again after so long. You practically jumped into her arms, hugging her tightly.
The familiar scent of her Coco Chanel perfume filled your nostrils, bringing back a flood of memories from your college days together.
"It's been so long!" she exclaimed, her voice full of genuine surprise and delight. She quickly pulled you into a tight embrace, her hands gripping the sides of your arms. "What brings you here?" she asked with a smile.
"I'm actually married now," you replied, a mixture of happiness and nervousness bubbling inside of you.
Her eyes lit up with that familiar look she always gave you, a look that made you feel seen and loved. It was as if no time had passed between the two of you, and you couldn't help but feel grateful to have her in your life.
"It's amazing how life can surprise us," she said as she motioned for you to join her outside. You sat down on the chairs, huddled together by the warm fire. Looking at the stars, she continued, "Out of all the people I met in college, I never would have guessed that you would be the one to settle down so early. You were always the adventurous type, ready to take on the world."
She smiled at you, "But I guess love has a way of changing us, doesn't it?" You smiled back, grateful for her understanding and support. As the fire crackled and the night grew darker, you shared stories and laughs. grateful for the unexpected turn your life had taken.
You talked for what seemed like hours on end, catching up with her felt like a fairytale. She shared all the exciting details of her life over the past few years, including graduating college and finding her dream job.
"So here I am, personally, as a Gynecologist," Utahime said, looking at shoko, who was gently rocking her baby back and forth, who looked up at you with interest.
"And Shoko here is an endocrinologist," she continued, gesturing towards her. “We both have specialized medical knowledge, but in different areas of expertise.”
Shoko got up from her seat and decided to sit next to you and Utahime. "Is that so? I'm so glad everything turned out to be good for you," you said, smiling warmly at Utahime. As you looked at her, you noticed a shift in her facial features. Her previously tense and worried expression had transformed into one of relief and contentment.
As you saw her for the first time in years, you couldn't help but notice the changes in her appearance. Her face had matured, no longer the round and soft baby face you remembered. Instead, she now had a more stern and defined structure, giving her a sense of authority and experience.
Despite the visible scar on her face, she seemed to radiate a glow that only added to her beauty.
The woman spoke softly, her voice filled with genuine concern. "I know how much you and Satoru have been wanting to have a baby," she said, leaning in closer. "As a gynecologist, I have some tips and advice that could help you both. And if you ever need any check-ups or consultations, you are more than welcome to come to my office." Her warm smile and the flickering light from the fire highlighted the purple strands in her hair, making her seem almost ethereal.
"Well, that's the thing," you said, looking at Shoko. "You're an endocrinologist, right?” Shoko nodded, her focus shifting to wrapping her newborn baby in a warmer blanket.
You were nervous and hesitant to ask, but you needed to know. "They're the ones who specialize in hormones," you said, your voice shaky. "Do you also specialize in infertility?" You raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge their reaction.
Utahime and Shoko exchanged a concerned look before turning back to you. Their expressions were serious as they nodded their heads in confirmation. You let out a sigh of relief, grateful that you had found doctors who could help you with your fertility struggles.
"Yes, why? Are you having trouble getting pregnant?" she asked, tilting her head in concern. The fire crackled loudly, each second passing by filled with tension and worry.
"My family has a history of hormone imbalances and fertility problems, and I wanted to get tested to see if I may have inherited these issues. Plus, it would be reassuring to get tested by someone I know and trust," you explained to your friend.
As you spoke, her expression softened and she absentmindedly played with her baby's chubby hands while listening. Her support and understanding made you feel more at ease about the situation.
“Absolutely, you know what. I’ll send Satoru my info-“ you quickly interrupted her.
"No no no," you pleaded, "he cannot know about this. Please." You looked away from her piercing stare, feeling ashamed and afraid that she might go and tell your husband. The secret you were keeping was eating away at you, and the thought of your husband finding out was unbearable.
“Of course, you’re my friend after all. Here,” She grabbed her purse.
"Can you hold him for just a moment?" She asked, handing you her baby. You couldn't resist the urge to reach out and take the little bundle into your arms. He immediately stared at you, his dark brown eyes searching your face curiously.
You couldn't help but smile at the adorable little face looking up at you. "He's so cute," you commented, and the mother beamed with pride. "Thank you, I'm glad you think so. He seems to like you," she replied, noticing how her baby was now reaching out towards you.
You couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and connection with the little one in your arms, even though you had just met. It was a small moment, but it brought a smile to your face and warmed your heart.
As the baby's chubby hands grasped onto your finger and their big eyes looked up at you in innocent wonder, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and joy.
You found yourself gently playing with the baby, making silly faces and noises that made them giggle and coo. In that moment, all your worries and troubles seemed to fade away, replaced by the pure happiness of being in the presence of a child.
As you held the baby in your arms, you couldn't help but think about the possibility of being infertile. The thought of not being able to have a child of your own was heartbreaking. However, in this moment, with the chubby-cheeked baby in your arms, all those worries faded away.
You brought the baby closer, feeling his soft breaths against your skin. As he began playing with your hair, you couldn't help but admire him. He was a spitting image of Shoko, with her almond-shaped eyes and button nose, but he also had features that definitely resembled Geto, like his pale skin and black hair.
“Here you go,” As you thanked the kind woman, she handed you a small card with the name and address of her clinic. You quickly stuffed it into your pants pocket, grateful for the potential help it may offer in the future.
"You know," she said with a playful grin, "if you like him so much you can keep him." She joked, giggling at the face you made. You couldn't help but laugh along with her, knowing she was just teasing you.
"I think I'll pass," you replied, still smiling. "I'd rather just borrow him every once in a while." She rolled her eyes, but her smile never faltered.
The glass door slid open, revealing Satoru and Geto standing on the other side with bottles of beer in their hands. As soon as your husband laid eyes on you and the baby in your arms, his gaze immediately turned to you with a mixture of surprise and concern.
"I'm just kidding Y/N," Shoko said with a laugh, getting up from her seat as the baby started to cry. "Well, that's my cue to give him to his father." She walked over to Satoru and Geto, who were deep in conversation and cracking jokes.
You couldn't help but smile as you heard Satoru's deep and attractive laugh, something you didn't get to hear often. "Looks like I'll have to leave the baby duties to you two," Shoko teased, handing the baby over to Satoru. "But seriously, thank you both for all your help." Satoru and Geto both nodded, Satoru’s face softening as he held the baby in his arms.
"My back is killing me," Shoko groaned, raising her arms above her head as she walked back towards you and Utahime. "I need to relax my muscles," she added, letting out a loud yawn.
"There's a Jacuzzi, you know..." Utahime said with a sly grin, standing up and flipping on the back lights. The entire back area was aluminized, giving it a sleek and futuristic look.
"Wow, this is amazing!" exclaimed Shoko stepping closer to get a better look at the Jacuzzi.
"Right? It's perfect for those cold winter nights," Utahime replied with a playful wink.
You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment as you looked at the huge jacuzzi on the back deck of the vacation rental.
The bubbles were constantly popping and rising to the surface, making it look so inviting. However, you realized that you had forgotten to pack a bathing suit, and there was nothing remotely close to one in your luggage.
You cursed yourself for not double-checking your packing list and felt frustrated that you wouldn't be able to enjoy the relaxing hot tub.
"Well, I'm going up to get my bathing suit because I definitely need to relax in the jacuzzi," shoko said with a frown.
You politely said your goodbyes and slipped away unnoticed into the cabin. As you entered, the cozy atmosphere of the rustic cabin embraced you, providing a welcome respite from the chilly evening air.
The soft glow of the fireplace and the gentle sound of crackling wood immediately put you at ease. You couldn't help but notice the other guests lost in their own thoughts, some reading by the fire, others playing board games at the kitchen table.
Exhaustion finally caught up to you and you let out a tired yawn, rubbing your eyes as you made your way to your room. The warm and comfortable bed awaited you, promising a peaceful night's rest.
The door opened with a small creek, the wodden floor echoing each step you took. You practically stripped yourself off your clothes. Grabbing one of your cozy night gowns you smoothly slid it on.
As you entered the room, the old wooden door creaked open, the sound echoing through the quiet space. The familiar scent of the room enveloped you, bringing a sense of comfort and relaxation.
With each step, the wooden floorboards groaned under your weight. Finally reaching your closet, you couldn't wait to change into something more comfortable. As you stripped off your clothes, you felt the tension of the day slowly dissipate.
Your hand reached for your favorite night gown, the soft fabric sliding smoothly over your skin as you slipped it on, instantly feeling at ease in your own home.
As you settled into the plush queen bed, you couldn't help but notice how dim the room was with the lights off. It was the perfect ambiance for a good night's sleep, and you were grateful for the extra blankets you packed.
The hotel's blankets were thin and barely provided any warmth, but luckily you came prepared. You closed your eyes and let the softness of the bed and the coziness of the blankets lull you into a peaceful slumber.
Satoru didn’t know if it was the alcohol in his system that made him do this or the fact that he genuinely wanted you.
Before getting drunk, he spent the whole night with Getous baby, rocking and playing with him. As he watched you hold the child, he couldn't help but feel a strange flutter in his stomach. Maybe it was the way your hair fell into place, or the pure joy he saw in your face as you interacted with the baby. He couldn't explain this feeling, but it was undeniable. It was in that moment that he realized he was falling for you, and it scared him.
Despite his dislike for alcohol, he found himself in an inebriated state, stumbling up the stairs to your room. He was usually a responsible and controlled individual, but today was different. He was grateful that his phone had little to no service, freeing him from the constant barrage of messages from Jiyuu.
He felt a sense of relief and freedom from her constant demands for his time and attention. However, deep down, he knew that this temporary escape would only lead to more problems in the long run.
He finally made it to the room, carefully navigating his way in the dark. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he stumbled on nothing but air, making sure not to trip over any obstacles in his path. Once he reached his destination, he quickly took off his shoes and closed the restroom door behind him. As he fumbled for the light switch, he could feel the familiar sting of bright light hitting his eyes. He took a moment to recompose his vision before continuing what he was doing.
As he stood in front of the bathroom sink, he turned on the cold water, the sound of it filling the room. He ran his fingers through the water, feeling its coolness against his skin. Taking a deep breath, he momentarily splashed his face with the water, feeling its refreshing touch. He then leaned in closer to the mirror, studying his reflection and the emotions that played across his face.
"Well fuck, I look like shit," he muttered to himself as he caught a glimpse of his tired reflection in the mirror. He had barely gotten any sleep nowadays, the bags under his eyes a testament to his hectic schedule.
Spending most of his nights either working his ass off or going over to Jiyuu's house and well, fucking her brains out. He couldn't deny that the physical release helped him relax and forget about his stress for a little while, but it was taking a toll on his appearance and overall well-being.
Thats all that seemed to happen in his life. Jiyuu would call him late at night for her needs, never once asking him how he was doing. Everything was rough with her, the sex was always aggressive and the kisses were forceful.
Even their relationship was characterized by constant arguments and tension. Every time he tried to talk to her about his feelings, she would brush him off and turn the conversation back to herself. It was clear that she only cared about her own needs and desires, leaving him feeling used and unfulfilled.
He couldn't believe it. As he walked into the bathroom, he saw his toothbrush already in the cup next to the sink. A wave of annoyance washed over him. "Of course," he scoffed, "the perfect little wife you were had to also pack the miserable husband things." But as he thought about it more, he realized that this small act was just another reminder of how much his wife cared for him.
You always made sure he had everything he needed, even if it was just a toothbrush.
As he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, he couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt wash over him. He knew he had treated you poorly, but in his mind, you were the reason for his strained relationship with Jiyuu. He loved her deeply, and the thought of losing her was unbearable.
Without another thought, he turned off the lights and closed the bathroom door, not caring about the freezing temperatures outside. Stripping off his shirt, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he had made a mistake, but he was too stubborn to admit it.
As he gazed at you, the soft glow of the moon enhanced your features, making your skin look radiant and your hair appear to shimmer. The gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed added to your allure, making him wonder how someone could look so effortlessly beautiful even in sleep.
He couldn't help but feel a pull towards you, admiring the peaceful expression on your face and the way your body seemed to fit perfectly into the bed. It was almost as if you were made for this moment, and he couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch you, feeling the warmth of your skin and the gentle rise and fall of your chest beneath his fingertips.
Despite the late hour, he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, captivated by the tranquil and alluring image you presented.
The moonlight cascaded over your exposed shoulders and collarbone, highlighting the curves and contours of your body. The strap of your nightgown had slipped off one shoulder, revealing more of your smooth, glowing skin. As he climbed into bed with you, he couldn't help but feel a rush of desire and anticipation. You eagerly wrapped your arms around Satoru, pulling him closer as the warmth of his body enveloped you.
He didn’t know why but here he was rock hard at just staring at your face.
He couldnt resist it anymore, slowly he placed his hand on top of your ass messaging the soft muscle.
Maybe it was the alcohol that made him want to fuck you so bad right now, or it was finally him excepting the fact that you were undeniably beautiful.
However, in this moment, his desire for you was too strong. He couldn't resist the temptation any longer. As he gently shook you, he knew he shouldn't be doing this, but he couldn't help himself. Satoru was usually calm and collected, never crossing boundaries with women.
Despite his loyalty to Jiyuu, he had been intimate with other partners in the past. But right now, none of that mattered. All he wanted was you.
Yeah they were attractive and good at sex but yet he never found himself waking them up just to put his cock inside of them.
“mmm,” you opened your eyes, your lips pinker than ever. In this moment Satoru couldn’t sworn that look alone made him cum.
"Shit, can I fuck you?" You were startled to say the least, but a part of you couldn't deny that you wanted this. Raising an eyebrow, you couldn't even form a coherent response before you felt Satoru's lips hungrily press against yours. His hands tangled in your hair as he deepened the kiss, sending shivers down your spine.
You couldn't help but moan in response, your body betraying your initial shock. Satoru pulled away, a smirk on his lips as he whispered, "I'll take that as a yes." And in that moment, you could practically feel your knees buckle.
Satoru guided his hands across your body, exploring every inch and leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. As he pulled you into another heated kiss, his lips moved with a fiery passion against yours. His hands trailed down to your lower back, giving a gentle squeeze that sent shivers down your spine.
You couldn't help but moan as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring every corner of your mouth. His touch was electric, igniting a fire within you that you couldn't resist.
You could feel your panties getting more wet by the second. His strong hands gripping your body.
"Satoru," you gasped as he continued to trail kisses down your neck, his hands roaming over your body.
"I can't get enough of you," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I want more," he growled, his lips finding yours again as he deepened the kiss.
"Me too," you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The two of you were lost in the heat of the moment, unable to resist each other any longer.
As his long fingers trailed down your body, they eventually made their way to your panties. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each passing second, the anticipation of what was to come sending shivers down your spine.
He couldn't help but smirk as he saw just how drenched your panties were, a clear indication of how much you wanted him. Without hesitation, he moved the side of your panties and began to circle his thumb around your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.
You couldn't help but arch your back as his cold thumb made contact with your sensitive folds, the sensation only adding to the intense arousal you were feeling.
"You're so wet for me,"Satoru murmured, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he slid two fingers inside of you. Your pussy clenched around them, pleasure coursing through your body.
"Shit Toru.." you moaned, unable to contain yourself as his fingers expertly hit all the right spots. "You have to be quiet," he reminded you, his deep husky voice sending shivers down your spine. His lips found yours, silencing any further noises as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you.
The intensity of his touch and the forbidden nature of the situation only added to your arousal.
Satoru couldn’t deny his attraction towards you, the way you squeezed your eye shut when you were about to cum or the way your eyebrows creased each time he fucked you harder.
"You think I didn't notice you with the baby?" You opened your eyes, struggling to make eye contact with your husband as he continued to finger you.
He pulled his obnoxiously long fingers out of your drenching wet cunt and gave you a wicked smile. "Since you want to pretend to be a mommy so bad, I'll make you one." He unbuckled his pants, his hard cock practically twitching with excitement as he stared down at your pussy.
You couldn't help but feel a little nervous as he positioned himself between your legs. He rubbed his hard long cock on your entrance, biting your lip you moaned as he slowly began to enter you.
"God, you feel so good," he grunted, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "You're gonna be such a hot mommy," he whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine
He began to fuck you, the sound of the bed squeaking and your skin slapping together filled the room. His toned abs flexed every time he entered you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. You felt like you were on cloud 9, completely lost in the moment.
His strong hands gripped your waist tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he thrust into you with a powerful force. Each time his cock filled you, it made you go crazy with ecstasy. You couldn't help but moan and whimper in pleasure as he took you with such intensity.
His dick twitched inside of your pussy, your walls clenching each time he slid in and out of you. "You're so big, Toru," you moaned, your eyes brimming with tears of pleasure. He was so huge, and you loved every inch of him.
His white hair was stuck to his sweaty forehead as he continued to fuck you, his body glistening with sweat. Suddenly, he grabbed one of your legs and swung it over his shoulder, changing the angle and hitting a spot inside of you that made you see stars.
He groaned, making eye contact with you and admiring how beautiful you looked taking in his huge dick. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you, signaling that he was getting close to his release.
"Mmm, babe….your tits are getting so…big," Satoru groaned as he squeezed and massaged your breasts, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. You moaned in response, your hands running through his hair as he trailed wet kisses down your neck.
"I can't wait to see how big they'll get when you're pregnant," he whispered, his hot breath tickling your skin. You arched your back, pressing your body closer to his as he continued to thrust into you with increasing fervor.
"Fuck, Mmm…Satoru," you gasped, the pleasure building inside you.
He chuckled darkly, his hand slipping down to your abdomen. "Just imagine how sexy you'll look with my baby growing inside you," he said, his voice low and husky with desire.
You whimpered as he hit a particularly sensitive spot, your body trembling with pleasure. "Please, Satoru, I need you to cum in me" you begged, your nails digging into his back.
He gave a feral growl in response, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he neared his release. "You're mine, baby," he grunted, his eyes locked on yours. "And I'm gonna make you a mommy." With one final, powerful thrust, he spilled inside you, sending you both over the edge into blissful ecstasy.
His hot semen filled your pussy, your legs twitching before he got off you and layed next to you.
Despite the numerous times you and your husband have had sex, this particular time felt different.
For the first time, there was a real sense of intimacy and connection between the two of you.
ps: had to cut this chapter short but i ended up changing the angsty part for chap 5, gotta give my girl y/n a break for whats about to come…
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❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ❞
❝ EVERYONE WANTS SATORU GOJO, SO WHY ARE YOU THE ONE STUCK GUARDING HIM ? ❞
✧ pairing: rich boy! gojo x bodyguard! reader
✧ summary: after the gojo family receives threats to their lives, you're hired to protect the heir to the company, satoru gojo - you just didn't realize how charming the rich heir would be - and just how hard it would be to resist his advances.
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is around the same age as gojo (both in their 20s but age is vague), virgin! gojo, switch! gojo, oral (f + m), handjob (m), dry humping, fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), depictions of violence, mentions of yakuza, dirty business dealings, gojo's made up dad and suguru make an appearance
✧ wc: 15,311 (i don't know what to say at this point)
✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 1 has been sold to @forest-hashira and two anons!
“So, is this your first time?”
Satoru Gojo would be the end of you — one way or another.
One way would be you sacrificing your life to protect him — fairly run of the mill when it came to guarding someone, the risk of putting your life on the line, though the chance of death usually was fairly slim. You had only come close — twice.
You didn’t care to make it a third.
The other, increasingly more likely, way was that you would lose your mind to his incessant yammering before you even had a chance to neutralize any threat to his life.
You nearly spit out your drink at the question, wiping your mouth with a napkin, before managin to choke it down, “Excuse me?”
And his lips annoyingly curl, “Your first time guarding someone,”
The heir seemed fairly nonchalant, even after his father had sat the both of you down in a room filled with more security agents than the prime minister of Japan himself had, and had lectured him about the importance of staying with you the entire time and to respect your authority — well one out of two wasn’t bad. He’s eating a piece of cake instead of a meal, his fork digging into the back of the cake again and again, toying with his food as he did with you, “I mean, you seem fairly young, but old enough to be entrusted with my safety,”
“Well, since you insisted on going to school, your father needed someone unassuming who looked around your age,” you lean against your hand, your other drumming against the table, as your eyes scanned the area — table of frat boys, group of girls sneaking glances at Gojo, various other students, no real threats — unless you counted the girls’ death daggers towards you, “someone who wouldn’t look out of place with you, raise any suspicions, but who could still protect you,”
His lips curl, as your eyes find their way back to the young heir, “So basically, you had to look like my girlfriend — shouldn’t I hold your hand? Sell the act? All in the name of my safety,”
You jerk your head towards his group of admirers, “I think what we’re doing now is plenty — unless you’d like your guard to get mauled by a bunch of hormonal college girls,”
His eyes slid to his adoring fans, as he pities them with a wave, erupting squeals from them, “I think you could take them,”
“How flattering,” you reply drily, picking at the food in front of you, “now finish your lunch so we can get to our next class on time,”
“Are you still upset that we were late this morning?”
“No, I’m upset that we missed half the class and I had to take the fall for it,” the heir had oh so kindly told the professor that you had made them run late (even though he was the one who spent far too long in the bathroom).
And even though you wouldn’t be attending this school for long, you hoped that you wouldn’t have to make yourself look like a fool the entire time you were here — but — your eyes found Gojo’s again — sticking with Satoru Gojo almost made that a guarantee that you would look like a fool — one way or another.
And you were already the fool — for thinking that a college aged boy would have any real food in his refrigerator. Although, Satoru Gojo was a different breed — instead of alcohol and questionable containers of takeout, there was...sweets.
So. Many. Sweets.
Not just cookies and candy — but literally six different kinds of mochi (for some reason?) and almost any pastry you could possibly think of was stocked in the house. And the freezer was more of the same — seven different containers of ice cream and one aged bag of edamame stuck in the back.
“Gojo?” you stare into the open refrigerator, while Gojo lays back on his couch, scrolling on his phone mindlessly.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have any food?”
“What do you mean? The refrigerator is full of food?” and his voice is thick with genuine confusion and you’re almost wondering how this man survived to this age.
Oh yeah, he’s rich.
You sigh, closing the refrigerator doors, and striding over to him, only to snatch his phone out of his hands, “Sweets are not real food — how do you eat like this and function?”
He only shrugs, lips curled into a grin, “I’m just built different,”
“You mean like a person who won’t make it to age fifty?” you toss his phone back at him, “get up,” you grab your sweatshirt hanging by the door and throw his jacket at him. He barely catches it, as he sits up, his face displeased with your sudden need to get him up.
“Where are we going?”
“So,” Gojo says, his hands in his pockets, as you both walk the aisles of the grocery store, “why did I have to come with you?”
“Because I’m going to show you how to actually shop for groceries, so you don’t have a heart attack and die before my stint with you is up,” you grab essentials and basics — oil, rice, cereal, pasta, spices, flour, sugar (although did he really need sugar with the amount he was already consuming?), “you know it would suck if my client died before we eliminated the other threats on his life,” before you add with a smile, “though I think your eating habits are more likely to kill you,”
“You know men really hate sarcastic women,” he bites back, before something catches his eye in the aisle and he places it in the cart, “major turn off,”
“Well, mission accomplished then,” you roll your eyes, as you look back at the cart to see a box of cookies, “you know when I said you were a moron, I was half kidding, but now,” you lift up the box of cookies, “you have a million cookies at home,”
He pouts — why do you feel like a mother refusing their child their candy at checkout? — “Not these ones,” you take the box and put it back on the shelf where it belonged, and he relents.
“Did you eat like this before college?”
He shook his head, “My meals were prepared for me by the chef at my home, I never really had much of a say in what I ate, or anything really,” and you shake your head, “my father wasn’t really the type to let me handle anything on my own — thus the need for a babysitter,”
You nod, “So no one really taught you how to take care of yourself?” and he shakes his head.
“Guess not, but I guess no time like the present to learn,” he examines the box of baking powder you had just placed in the cart, “like what this is,” and you snort, taking the box from him and placing it back in the cart.
“Maybe by the end of this trip, we’ll have you making it past the age of forty,”
He raises an eyebrow, “I thought you said fifty?”
“The cookies made me lose more faith in you,”
The two of you continue to shop, as you help him pick out vegetables, meat, and other necessities for the house. You separate the things for you and for him meticulously, as the two of you head over to the checkout, and he’s placing everything on the conveyor belt together, including your own things, “No wait, those are mine—”
“Consider it payment,” he stops you, as you continue to try to argue, but he’s only blocking you from the conveyor belt with a raised arm, a real smile on his lips, “just let me do this for you,” And you can’t find any words, so your mouth shuts, and you nod — as you watch him speak with the older cashier with his patented charm.
And the cashier stops you right as you’re leaving, whispering, “That’s a good one, don’t let him go, ok?” and you pause, her words sinking in as blood rushes to your cheeks.
“We’re not—”
“I know,” the older woman chuckles far too knowingly, as she hands you the receipt, “but you never know.”
“You coming?” Gojo calls, turning to look back at you, as he pushes the cart of groceries, and you look from the cashier to him, before fleeing with a quick ‘thank you.’
And as you go home, you glance at Gojo, maybe there was more to him than you initially thought.
“This is so boooooring,” Gojo’s whining for, what you assume is, the billionth time, “I hate philosophy, moral arguments? It’s such bullshit,”
“You know philosophy is literally a subject that encompasses everything right?” you tilt your head watching him lay on the floor as the two of you sit at the table, his head right next to you, as you sit cross legged, “there’s no avoiding it in life,”
“Well can’t I avoid it in school at least? Because college feels very different from real life,” and you roll your eyes, flicking him between the eyes.
“Just write your paper, I already finished mine,” and he perks up.
And he slides his laptop over to you, “Then you can write mine,”
“That’s not happening,” and he groans again, “you know if you spent all the time that you whined working on your paper then you’d be done,”
“Were you this much of a buzzkill when you were in college?” Gojo stares at you, “what do you even do for fun?”
“Why is this relevant to you writing your paper?”
“Why is writing my paper relevant to protecting my life?” and you open and close your mouth, “c’mon give me something, anything,”
“How about this — when you finish a page, I’ll answer a question, any question,” you offer, and he grins, as he sits up and begins to type away at his laptop.
You sit back, lying back and using your phone, until about fifteen minutes later when he’s holding his laptop up, showing you that he completed a page, “That fast?” you’re skeptical, and then you grab his laptop, skimming the page, wondering if he was trying to trick you — he wasn’t. It was good, more than good — it was a wonderful discussion of deontological ethics.
“How did you finish this so fast?” you raise an eyebrow, “you complain so much, but you wrote this page far too quickly,”
He shrugs, “I’m good at everything, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “jealous?”
“Totally,” you scoff, before grinning, “so get back to work,” and he gapes at you, before groaning dramatically, lying back on the floor again.
“Ugh, this is too much work,” he whines again, “I don’t know why I had to take this stupid class,” he grumbles.
“Then why did you?” you scroll through your phone, checking for any new alerts or updates from his father or any other member of the security team, “you have a choice in what classes you sign up for, don’t you?”
And for one of the first times, you saw Satoru’s playfulness ebb away, replaced with almost a bitterness — as bitter as his words were usually sweet, “Maybe most college kids do, but I don’t have a choice in most of the things I do, including the classes I pick,”
You tilt your head, “Your father?” And he nods, “did you even choose your major?”
His eyes drift to the ceiling, “Is it a choice when your father tells you you’re either being groomed to run his company when you graduate or he’s not paying for you to go to school at all?”
“No, it isn’t,” you admit, “but it could be worse, he could have stuck you with a glorified babysitter on top of it,”
He cracks a smile, “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for babysitters,” and you roll your eyes, cracking a smile.
“Get back to work.”
“Fuck,” Satoru muttered, watching the rain come down as he waited outside the university awning of the building he had just finished his class in. You had left him to go to class by himself — you trusted him enough not to get murdered while in class and on the walk back (high praise) — and said you’d likely just meet him back at the apartment. But now, he didn’t know how he’d get home without getting soaked.
He checks his phone for any rideshares nearby, but there were none. And he would rather go drown in the rain than call his father’s driver, and guarantee a lecture about being prepared for “any given situation.”
Shit. Maybe he would just risk walking.
So he did. The rain soaked through his clothes all too quick, the wet fabric clinging to his skin, and the cold leeching the warmth from his body. And he couldn’t help but think if you were with him, you would have remembered to bring an umbrella.
Weird, when did he ever really rely on anyone else?
Yes, his father had maids, cooks, and personal shoppers when he was growing up — but they weren’t people he relied on — he did, but it was expected. It was their job. And yes, he was a job for you too — but…it was different.
Satoru didn’t know when it happened but he had gotten used to your presence in his life. Whether it was at home or in class, you were always there. And it wasn’t as annoying as he thought it would be. It was…nice to have someone there to lean on. But, as he glanced up at the storm clouds, holding a hand above his eyes — rolling dark clouds with no signs of the rain letting up — this would be his reality once the threats were a distant memory.
“Gojo!” He blinks, his eyes snapping forward, and he sees someone coming over the horizon.
It was you — umbrella in hand, as your footsteps echoed with the splashes of water from the rain that collected on the ground. And you found your way to him, holding the umbrella over his head. He stared at you as you grew closer, wondering if you were real. And he wasn’t surprised you found him —
“How did you know?” He asks when you stand, catching your breath, short pants, as your eyes flicker up to his.
“You always forget your umbrella, so I figured you needed one,” you shrugged, “plus I finished my meeting early so I came to get you,” and he only stares at you, “what?”
And he only shakes his head, as he takes the umbrella from your hand, fingers brushing, as he holds it up over the both of you, your shoulders brushing as you begin to walk home. And he found himself wishing for a split second that the threats would never stop.
“Just wondering if it’s in your job description to protect me from colds too,” and you snort, lips curling into the same smile he loved to see.
“With you? It is.”
“A party?”
“Yes, known as a gathering of people where—”
“I don’t need you to define the word,” you grit your teeth, as you watch him pull out shirts from his closet, holding them up, before shrugging, “do you know the kind of danger you could put yourself in by going?”
“I know, the party might go into a frenzy at the sight of me, think of all the students who’d glare at you then,” he grins, as he finally settles on an outfit — charcoal gray shirt and a blue button down, “might have to call another bodyguard to guard you instead, princess,”
“Aren’t you the princess if you’re the one being guarded?” you bite back, and he only laughs, hands in his pockets, “Gojo, you have serious threats that have been levied—”
“Against my father—”
“And you, the heir to your father’s company,” you cut him off, crossing your arms, “are you seriously going to risk our lives because you want to get drunk and fuck around with a bunch of idiots?”
The answer was yes, of course.
And now here you were, stuck babysitting this spoiled heir at a party. You hadn’t really been to any parties — hadn’t bothered to. You had gotten through college at a young age, perks of skipping a few grades, and you ended up in the family business regardless — so you didn’t bother to party much. Not when you had things to accomplish — babysitting a drunk heir wasn’t one of them.
It has started as you expected. Gojo had flitted away from your side the first moment he got, disappearing into the throng of horny and drunk college students. You wove your way through the crowd, careful not to trip over the students making out, dancing, or drinking on nearly any available surface. The smell of beer and cheap cologne wafted through this dorm. And you had almost given up on finding him when you spotted him stuck to the sides of three girls, all of them far too eager to hang off his every word.
You sighed, this was going to be a long night.
“You one of Satoru’s girlfriends?” you glance to your side and see Suguru Geto in person. You had learned all about Satoru Gojo and the people he hung around. Like those three girls — one of them had a long distance boyfriend, the other had a cheating situationship she was trying to make jealous, and the other just wanted to fuck him for the experience. Suguru Geto was one of the only friends of Gojo you had liked from what you had read about him — humble background, on scholarship at the college, but one of the best students here — and a philosophy student of all things, the very subject his best friend hated.
You want to say no, but unfortunately, you have no idea what the idiot has been saying to other people, “Something like that,” you sip at your drink to make the bitter words slide down, “why? Are you?”
A chuckle slips past his lips, as he takes a swig of his drink, “Well I already like you better than the others. You have a sense of humor and seemingly more than two brain cells,”
“Don’t give me too much credit,” you snorted, leaning against a wall, “I did end up here after all,”
“Fair enough, how’d he convince you to come?” And you shake your head — good question. What choice did you really have? You could have let him go alone, but probably not a good look
“I don’t even know honestly, feel like I’ve been dragged here to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid,” you glance at him and the gaggle of girls, “though maybe I already fucking failed at that,”
Geto shrugs, as his gaze slips from Gojo to you, “I mean until he sticks his tongue down one of their throats, I think you’re doing pretty well,”
You laugh, “Good to know,” and you both continue to chat, and unbeknowst to you, while your focus is torn away from Gojo, his attention is fully on you.
If looks could kill, Satoru imagined his crystal eyes were nothing more than daggers ready to strike, as he watches you and Suguru talk.
It was his fucking idea to come to this party, so why were you having more fun than he was?
He swirled his drink miserably — he had barely taken a sip of the beer poured for him — why would he when it tasted like piss? He didn’t understand why people liked to drink — especially when they could eat mochi instead — but now, as he stares at you and Suguru, maybe he was starting to understand.
He can’t hear what either of you are saying over the blaring music and the chatter of students surrounding him, but he can see the smile on your lips and the laugh that left them.
Why the fuck do you look so happy to talk to Suguru?
You seemed so bored when he was with you—and did you just fucking laugh again at something Suguru said?
The crinkle of plastic and the distinct feeling of a spill made his gaze snap to his hand — he just crushed his plastic drink cup. He sighed, as he simply placed it among the other abandoned drink cups on a nearby table, before wiping off his hand with a napkin.
Why did he even care? You were nothing but a nuisance anyway. All you did was follow him around, make him go to class on time, make sure he was safe, care about his well-being—
What the fuck was he thinking?
His eyes couldn’t help but slide back to you as he tried to enjoy the girls' company, their slight touches and soft pouts and sweet words not going unnoticed by him. But that was how it always was. Once people found out he was rich, people wanted to be his friend, they wanted to date him, they wanted him — but not really him, they wanted his money.
First world problems, right?
But you — you hadn’t been like that. You were irritatingly punctual, unfazed by his money, didn’t care in the slightest about his father or who he was — you just wanted to do your job. And he was your job, for the time being.
And now he got to see you smile — your lips perfectly curled in a smile that both he wanted to see all the time and grated on his nerves — but you were smiling at someone else. And Suguru no less.
“C’mon Satoru, you gonna make eyes at your boyfriend all night?” Aiko said, nudging him teasingly, her words far too slurred.
“Help us finish these shots,” Yumiko whines, as she offers him a shot, urging it into his hands.
He’s grimacing, he hates alcohol — he hates how he feels during and after; he hates the disgusting, metallic taste; and if it couldn’t get worse, he’s a lightweight. He stares at the shot.
“It’s just one shot,” Misaki grins, holding up her own, clinking hers to his, “you’re already three shots behind everyone else,”
And he’s about to open his mouth to refuse — make up an excuse of having to wake up early or stomach being unsettled — and that’s when you catch his attention. You were laughing now, a noise far too pretty for his liking, as you shoved Suguru’s chest playfully.
Fuck it.
He downs the shot, the liquid searing down his throat, dragging down until it settles in a burning pool in his stomach. Finally he tears his gaze away as the girls offer him another shot — as you grin at Suguru — this was going to be a long night.
“Hey,” Geto jerks his head, “you might want to deal with that,”
You whip your head around.
“Oh what the—“
Gojo was hanging all over the girls he was with, barely able to stand on his two feet, as he swayed from side to side — his cheeks glowed with the telltale glow that told everyone he had been drinking (if that wasn’t obvious by literally everything else).
Fuck.
You had kept an eye on him. You swore he had only taken two shots of alcohol, how was he this drunk already? You examine and sniff the two shot glasses he used — no peculiar smell or residue — you run through the gamut of tests you could do on hand and conclude two things: 1) Gojo wasn't drugged and 2) he was a lightweight.
But that didn’t stop him from acting like he wasn’t, as girls egged him on to take more shots, and from the way they were eyeing him, their intentions were anything but pure.
You sigh, walking over, slipping past a drunk couple making out, a person passed out and sleeping on the floor, and a cluster of cheering onlookers as a student chugged what you can only assume was a disgusting concoction of alcohol.
Until you finally reached his side.
“I think you’ve had enough, isn’t that right, Satoru?” And he’s blinking at you, before he’s grinning, slurring your name.
“You’re no fun,” and he’s clinging all over you, his hands curled around your waist, “such a buzzkill, don’t even like to have any fun with me,”
“Looks like you had too much fun without me,” you murmur, your arm slinks around the middle of his back, “let’s get you back to your dorm,”
“Hey he’s fine, he’s having fun with us,” Aiko glared at you, a hiccup leaving her lips, “don’t go crashing our good time because he’s not interested in you,”
“Yeah why don’t you go hang out with Geto or whatever? We’ll take good care of him. C’mon Toru, let’s go to my place in Shibuya, I have a huge house there,” Yumiko says, barely coherent, and you raise your eyebrows at the nickname, as she leans in to whisper, alcohol wafting off her breath, as she lifts up her middle finger, “fuck off,”
Honestly the only reason you can understand the gist of what she meant was because of her middle finger. Their other friend is passed out on the couch.
“I don’t think any of you can even care for yourselves,” you scoff, and Satoru is hanging all over you already, mumbling words you can’t make out in your ear, “I’m taking him home, you should take your friend home,”
“Geto, wanna help me out?” And Geto nods, trying to take Gojo other arm, but Gojo pushes him away, instead clinging to you, you stumble a moment before catching both of you, “Gojo—“
“No, wanna go home with just you,” he’s officially whining, and you’re having flashbacks to the summer you spent babysitting, but — you look at the drunk white porcupine clinging to you — somehow this idiot is worse than the kid.
You sigh, “Geto, make sure that girl gets home safe,” you gesture to the one passed out on the couch, “I’m going to deal with this one,”
Geto stares at the two of you, the far too tall Satoru hunched over onto your body, “Can you—“
But you’re already walking away, able to drag Gojo away with relative ease (it’d be far easier if he’d pull his own weight, but at least he was quiet).
That was, until you got outside. And then the whining began again.
“How can you treat me like this?” Gojo’s hands cling to your arm, his face buried in your shoulder, “you shouldn’t ignore the one you’re supposed to protect!” and he’s shaking his head like a petulant child, his bottom lip quivering.
“You’re the one who left my side, not the other way around,” you grumble, as he’s finally beginning to walk by himself but he’s still stuck to your side like an overgrown cactus, “you’re the one who wanted to go to this goddamn party,”
“Yeah but you’re the one who's supposed to protect me,” he pouts, as he stops right in front of his building, “I can’t do your job for you,” and he’s finally standing in front of you, his cheeks and nose still flushed from the alcohol, his hand still clutching at yours, “do you even know how to do your job?”
You grit your teeth. Would punching the person you’re hired to protect be a breach of contract? You rub your temples, it may come to that.
“You’re an idiot,” you jerk your hand away, shaking your head, “my job is to protect you, not to stop you from doing stupid college boy shit,”
He’s crossing his arms, “I could have been in danger — what if that alcohol was poisoned? I feel really sick,” he grips, holding his stomach with pursed lips, and you’re thoroughly unimpressed.
“I looked at it, it wasn’t poisoned,” you raise an eyebrow, before sighing, and shrugging your shoulder bag off your shoulders, rooting around in the pouch, “but if you want, I have something in my bag that will turn your stomach inside out and we’ll be sure to get the poison out,”
“Nooooo, no! I’m fine,” he’s shaking his head, his voice grows soft, “I just need to get to bed,” he mutters, and you roll your eyes, but grab him by his wrist.
“Come on, we’re going inside,” and it’s a struggle to get to his apartment — more like a luxury penthouse — on the top floor, but somehow you get him inside and shepherd into his bedroom. And he’s shrugging off his button up before pulling off the shirt underneath.
Your gaze snaps away, cheeks burning, your eyes trying to erase the glimpse of his fucking unfairly chiseled physique — complete a surprisingly broad chest and shoulders — how the fuck was that hiding under his clothes? He looked like a stick normally with his clothes on.
“See something you like?” he’s snickering, as you hear the click of his belt and the and sounds of rustling — assuredly stepping out of his jeans.
“No, just not used to clients stripping for me,” you turn your back to him, as you hear the creak of the mattress and the crinkling of his comforter and sheets.
“Am I just a client to you?” his words were still mildly slurred, and you knew he’d be pouting if he had enough brain cells to do so, “you can turn around, I’m under the covers,” he adds with a grumble.
You turn and see him curled up under his blanket and you have to bite back your smile — now he most assuredly looked like one of the kids you used to babysit.
“Well what else am I supposed to see you as, Gojo?” you cross your arms, and he’s muttering under his breath, “what?”
“That’s just it. You don’t even call me by my first name,” he’s brooding, face twisted in a scowl, “I don’t have a lot of people I trust. Most people are just after my money or my looks,” he looks at you, “you’re different. Kinda weird,”
You quirk an eyebrow, “is that a good thing?”
“Well I trust you,” he admits, and you note the tips of his ears barely visible outside the comforter are red — is it still the flush from the alcohol? “I don’t really have many of those,”
And you’re taken aback — you thought you were nothing but a nuisance to this party obsessed prince, but maybe there was more to him than you thought. You toyed the ring on your finger, maybe you had more in common than you thought.
“Thank you, I’m glad you do, because you can, trust me that is,” you say softly, “good night, Satoru.”
And he does sleep after that, as you spend the night keeping watch, half to ensure his safety and the other to make sure he slept on his side in case he threw up
(and he did, twice).
“I need to talk to you,” Suguru Geto barely looked up from his phone when he saw Satoru in front of him, his best friend looking more irritable than usual — his usually bored affect seemed to be on holiday, “Suguru?”
“I heard you the first time, what is it?” and Satoru snatches the phone from Suguru’s hands, “what the fuck—“
“What were you doing last night?” and Suguru tilts his head, before rubbing his temple.
“Give me my fucking phone—“
“What did you talk to her about?” And Suguru stares at him, his brow furrowed, smart mouth ready with a reply about a stint in a spa or a retreat was needed before his lips curl.
“Oh. Her,” and he’s leaning back, a lazy shrug, “this and that,”
“Cut the shit, Suguru, do you like her or not? Did you get her number?” And Satoru is trying to unlock Suguru’s phone, as Suguru watches with a tilt of his head and a wry grin on his lips, “huh? what is it?”
“So you like her, that much is clear,” and he’s crossing his arms, “I assume you didn’t tell her or you wouldn’t have come in swinging and stealing?”
Satoru stares at him, slack jawed and cheeks turning a deep pink that only carnations could rival, “No! She’s just a…friend of the family, and she’s not supposed to be with—“
“She told me she liked you,” his heart catches, mouth falling open, before Suguru’s lips curl, “well, she said that she was one of the many, rather,”
Satoru’s cheeks burn, “It’s not like that, she barely even fucking looks at me. Can you believe that? Me?” and he gestures up and down his body.
“I see your ego is still intact,” Suguru scoffs, shaking his head, before leaning back on his palms, “just tell her how you feel, Satoru, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is I have no idea how she feels and it’s all your fault!” And Suguru raises an eyebrow, “you charmed her and I’m sure you’re the only one she’s thinking about now,” he covers his face, “and after what I said to her last night…” he couldn’t believe he admitted that you were the one of the only ones he trusted. And he called you weird.
He honestly didn’t know what was worse.
“What did you even say?”
“Say to who?” and Satoru turns, finding you standing behind him, arms crossed.
And Satoru cuts Suguru off before he can say a thing, “Not important. What are you doing here—“ you grab him by the wrist, a wave of heat makes his nearly burn red as you begin to drag him away, “what are you—“
“Bye Geto,” you say, waving at the raven haired student, before taking Geto’s phone and tossing it back to him, “I’m taking the idiot—“
“HUH?”
“Good luck. He might need to be fed — he’s in a mood,” and he waves back, same smile on his lips.
“What did you two do, adopt me?” Satoru grumbles as you pull him away, “where the hell are you dragging me? How did you even find me?”
“The post hangover suits you well, we have to get to class, and I placed a tracker on you,” and he’s jerking his hand away, staring at you, “I have to be able to find you, don’t I?”
“Where?”
You tilt your head, “Why would I tell you? Don’t worry about, I’ll remove it after we’re done here,”
You weren’t going to budge on this — and if he argued more, you would take it up with his father. And he would like to avoid that as much as possible. He sticks his hands in his pockets, , “I’m tired, can’t you just go and take notes for me?”
“I thought you’d be more concerned about the threats against your life, instead of sending your bodyguard off to your class for you” you hiss, and he’s pouting again, unable to meet your gaze, “what’s your problem, Satoru?”
And he pauses, the retort on lips dying as his brain looped in an infinite spiral of his name on your lips, “You called me ‘Satoru,’”
You tilt your head, “you told me to last night,” and then you add with a wicked grin, “remember? When you said I was one of the only people you trusted,” you tease, but he’s too busy hearing his name repeat in his head again and again, “Satoru—“
“Better be careful, sweetheart,” his lips curl into that annoyingly charming smile, “keep calling me by my first name and I may fall for you,”
You glare at him, before rolling your eyes, “I see you’re feeling better now,” you walk forward, glancing back at him, “you coming?”
And his wrist tingles still tingle from your touch, his lips quirk into a smile, “Yeah.”
“Why did you become a bodyguard?” Satoru asks you, the movie you had haphazardly chosen still ongoing had all become background noise while you spoke, the illumination from the television screen being the only thing that kept your faces lit in the dark living room (he had insisted on shutting the lights off for an “authentic movie watching experience”).
It had been a few weeks, with no signs of the threat posed ever being eliminated — still new threats were being made, and the Gojo family was still on edge.
But you were on edge for a whole other reason.
His fingers were still shoved in the bag of kettle corn he had been snacking on this entire time, but you could feel his gaze on you, instead of the movie.
“What do you mean?” your eyes slide to him, as your phone’s ringer goes off with a spam email, and you silence it, keeping it on vibrate for emergencies, “and what’s with the sudden question?”
The two of you had settled into your routine — days spent in class, meals shared, grocery shopping, and nights spent either in or out — but again, always together. And, it wasn’t bad — some of it was fun, to the point you almost forgot you were working.
But you were working. Even now, as your legs are thrown up on the couch, crossed underneath you, your knee brushing against his thigh.
He shrugs, “You owe me a question, remember?” and he reminds you of your promise from weeks ago — you had wondered why he had never asked you anything that night, “You never talk about yourself. You implied you have your degree, but not much else. From what I’ve seen of you, you’re intelligent — you could have done anything, why this?” and his lips curl into that mischievous, “unless you just had to guard me when you found out it was me,”
You toss a throw pillow at him, but he catches it with ease, “If only your body was as bulletproof as your body,” and he huffs out a laugh, as you sigh, “why are you interested anyway?”
“Because I am,” you scoff.
“Nice reasoning,” he only grins, a thousand watt even in the dark.
“I thought so,” and he’s holding the pillow to his chest, “c’mon, can you not tell me even one thing about yourself?”
He wasn’t going to let this go was he? And you relent, chewing on your lip, “My family has been in this business for years — my grandfather, my father, my uncles, and my cousins, and I wanted to be one too. To protect people — it’s a lot more work than it seems. It’s quick thinking, critical reasoning, and analytical skills. It’s all I ever wanted to do after watching my dad do it,” you say softly, “but he didn’t think I was capable of it. He thought I was too soft. Too weak. So I decided to prove him wrong,”
“You weak? Has your father met you?” and you huff a laugh, “I’m serious,” his cerulean pools meeting yours with not a ripple of hesitancy in them, “I’ve seen you — I don’t I’ve met anyone this determined, or stubborn,” he adds with a smirk.
“I’m stubborn?” you gape at him, “this coming from the king of stubborn,”
“Only if you’ll be my queen,” and you roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn, as your gaze turns back to the movie — why did your heart catch at his words? “but trust me, I’m very flexible in other aspects,”
“Oh my god, is every other sentence that leaves your mouth a pick-up line?” and he opens his mouth, “don’t say ‘only for you,’ or I will be the only threat you have to worry about,”
“Promise?” you grab another pillow, but he catches your wrist before you can toss it. Your breath catches, and you can’t meet his gaze — you can’t, because you know if you do— but then he whispers your name.
And you can’t help it. You look at him. His eyes are so pretty. They were really the first things that struck you when you met him — that was before he opened his mouth. They looked like they contained multitudes, a far too beautiful ocean tucked behind sunglasses and an irritated scowl. But it wasn’t a secret that Satoru Gojo was attractive — especially not when every other person glared at you for simply being in his presence. But physical attractiveness meant little if a person wasn’t good — because superficiality could only take you so far.
And you knew what it was like to be only judged superficially — and by the way Satoru’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when these people chatted him up, he was far too used to it.
And once he did speak, you had written him off as another rich kid — you had seen them a dime a dozen throughout your schooling and from the people your family was protected to hire. But there was something about him — something you couldn’t quite shake, even though every part of you was telling to do so.
“What is it, Satoru?” And his fingers tug you a little closer, gently, his hand loose enough for you to slip away, but you don’t. Why don’t you?
“You don’t always have to have your guard up,” his voice is soft, far too soft for the far too loud heir, “it’s okay to open up,”
You shake your head, but still unable to pull away, “It’s dangerous,” and he laughs, a sound that only warms the thin icy barrier between you both, melting it to nothing.
“Isn’t danger the whole reason we met?” And now his thumb brushes up and down against your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse roaring just underneath.
You pull away again, shaking your head, as you cross your arms, trying to hold your resolve together, “I can’t do my job if I’m distracted,” and you couldn’t, even now, you weren’t evaluating any risks, you weren’t trying to find the source of the threats — no, you were too busy trying not to inch closer to your client, trying not to look at his lips, trying not to give in to what you wanted.
“And I’m a distraction?” he looks far too pleased, but a thought seems to sour his smirk, “I thought Suguru was more of one,” and his lips are caught in a slight pout.
“Geto was just keeping me company while you entertained those girls hanging on your every word,” you can’t dull the point to your words, and it replaces his pout with a grin.
“So you were jealous,”
“You’re the one who was jealous — you could have killed Suguru with your glare alone,”
“But you didn’t deny it,” and it makes you stop — why didn’t you deny it?
“I can’t do this,” and you’re pulling away, before flicking off the tv and rising from the couch your phone in hand, turning towards the hallway, “it’s late we should go to bed—“ but he’s catching your wrist again, “Gojo—“
“Satoru,” he corrects, and you hated how gentle his fingers felt around your wrist, “how are you supposed to protect me if you’re too busy running away from me?”
“I’m great at multitasking,” and he’s drawing closer to you, his soft footfalls against the carpet, even as you step away from him, “my job is to protect you, we can’t get distracted—“
“I thought you were so good at multitasking,” he chuckles, his fingers find your wrist again, slipping to intertwine with your own, fingers interlaced, and your phone falls from your fingers and onto the couch, “what I said that night when I was drunk was true — I don’t have a lot of people I trust. People don’t understand. They put me on a pedestal or they don’t want me, they want the concept of me — not the reality,”
“I’m not licensed as a therapist you know,” and he’s sighing.
“Do you always have to deflect with humor? Because if we both do that, we’ll never get through a conversation,” and he squeezes your hand, “which I guess I don’t mind if that means you’ll stay,”
“Satoru—“
“We don’t have to do anything now — we don’t have to do anything at all,” and you can feel his words warming your skin, “but don’t you feel something?”
You hesitate, and you can’t look at him, “No, I don’t,”
“You’re not a very good liar — don’t they teach you that in bodyguard academy?”
You snort, holding your head, “Is that where you imagined I got my training done?”
“Well, you don’t exactly like to share, now do you?” he’s stepping forward again, and you can’t bring yourself to run away anymore.
“I shouldn’t,” and you hear the faint sound of his breath hitching, “but I do,”
You don’t need to look at him to hear the smile on his lips, “so maybe it’s a distraction worth having,”
“But—” and he’s gently turning you to face him, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face, heat blooming with his touch, “Satoru…”
“Why do you keep saying my name when you know I like hearing it?” he’s teasing, but you’re not shying away from his touch, as his fingers cup your chin now, upwards, so you meet his gaze, “maybe we should have had you pretend to be my girlfriend,”
You chuckle, “Oh I could see that going wrong in so many ways,” and he’s leaning even closer, as he’s left the line you’d drawn far behind, marred it with his touch, and is luring you over to stumble over the edge with him.
“Is this one of them?”
“Probably,” and his lips brush against yours — he tastes sweet, the taste of kettle corn lingers, as his fingers cup your cheek now, and find purchase on his shoulder. It’s brief, a soft press that leaves you far too breathless, as if his touch had taken the air from your lungs, only to leave heat behind, “definitely,”
“Is that a good thing or—” and your lips find his this time, a gasp you swallow with a smirk, and he melts into your touch, eager fingers grasping at the front of his shirt. And he responds in kind, his fingers tracing a path, as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand settles on the back of your neck.
His touch set every nerve ending on fire — a desperate wildfire that burned a trail across your mind and body — leaving only the crave of his touch behind, that left you wanting more, needing more.
“Was that good?” you murmur, as you take in your handiwork, his pink lips were bitten red by your kisses, his marble skin a lovely flush, and his gaze far too needy. God, it’s far too easy to get lost in him — pull your anchor from the shore and get lost in his gaze and touch, “god I shouldn’t ask that, we shouldn’t be doing this—” but your body refuses to pull away, and you don’t think by the grasp he has on you, that you’d be able to anyway.
But he only gives you the same answer to each of your statements — he kisses you again, slower and more languid this time, as the two of you walk towards the bedroom, your hands reaching for each other and the walls, as you both stumble into his bedroom.
“We don’t—” he says, between kisses, “I didn’t—”
“I didn’t either, but—” you can’t stop touching him, you don’t want to, despite the logical part of you screaming at you to leave his room, it’s overridden by just how much you want him. He’s frustrating, he’s an idiot, he’s sweet, he’s cute, and he’s a little pathetic — but you liked that in a man. Every sense of logic is screaming at you to stop — but it all turns to white noise “but I don’t want to stop.”
He’s grinning as he pulls you into another kiss, his arms wrapping around his waist, pressing you against him, “That addicted already?” lips parting as he kisses down your neck, pulse jumping under his touch.
“You’re just lucky Geto didn’t get to me first,” and he furrows his brow, before his teeth graze against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, drawing a gasp from your lips, “Satoru, what was that for—”
“So everyone knows you’re mine? Including Suguru,” he’s sucking lightly at the mark, soothing his tongue, “and I’ll make sure he knows,”
“Oh, I trust you’ll be subtle,” and he’s guiding you towards his bed, both of you falling onto it, his knee pressing your legs apart, as he hovers over you, his ocean gaze dark as a storm ridden sea.
“Oh you know me, princess,” and his knee presses against your clothed cunt, rubbing against it teasingly, “subtlety is my specialty,”
“Subtle as a truck,” you murmur, and he’s laughing as he kisses you again, making your lips curl, as his hands slide up your sides, squeezing your hips, “Satoru, please,”
“What’s the fun if I don’t get to tease you?” he’s kissing needy kisses to your neck, as his knee doesn’t relent, grinding lightly against your increasingly wet core, slick leeching through the thin material of your shorts, “gotta make sure you want it right?”
“You treat all the people you bring home this well?” and he’s pausing, lips against your neck, “I didn’t mean anything—”
“You’re the first,” you stare up at him, and he’s hesitant for once when usually he’s always barreling forward, “I’ve never brought anyone here,” and he licks his lips, a deeper flush settling over his porcelain skin, “I’ve never actually—”
And you blink, “Really?”
He huffs, “Is it that surprising—”
“I mean a little, from the way everyone acts around you, and the way you act—”
“Well, ‘act’ is the key word, now isn’t it?” he’s licking his lips as he looks down at you, “it’s easy to act when you know what they expect from you — a role to play,”
“Well, the role’s been filled, so how about you just be yourself for me?” you murmur softly, a featherlight touch as you trace the curve of his jaw, and his lips find his smile under your delicate touch, “so I can ask, is this your first time like you asked me?”
And he’s leaning up to kiss you, your hand resting against his chest, his heartbeat galloping under your touch, “And if I said yes?”
You smile, before flipping him onto his back, his gaze wide as he stares up at you, “Then we better make it memorable.”
“Please, I want to—“ his soft pants left his perfect lips, chest heaving as your fingers curled around his erection, far too hard from just what you had done. You’d stripped yourself and him bare — your inhibitions left far behind — as your lips kissed the tip of his aching cock.
“Lemme make you feel good, Satoru,” you murmur, looking up at him with fluttering eyes, your fingers smearing his pre cum along his length, and he’s pressing his head into the pillow, “s’big, can’t wait to feel you inside me,” you murmur, and you slowly pump him, drawing moan after moan from his lips.
“Won’t last long—can’t—“ he’s biting his lip, his hips thrusting into your touch, before your lips suck at his tip again, and he’s gone, cumming hard all over your face and fingers. God, it never felt that good when he touched himself. Your fingers even brushing against him made him want to cum almost instantly, your soft touch and lips were enough to send him over the edge over and over again.
He’s panting, eyes fluttering open to see you licking your lips clean with your tongue, as you meet his gaze with a grin, slowly sucking on each one of your fingers until you’ve cleaned yourself of his cum.
“Princess, fuck,” he’s lying back on the pillow, as your lips slowly kiss back up his body, your tongue dragging between the fluttering muscles of his stomach and chest.
“Already hard again?” You murmur, a smirk on your lips, “so sensitive for me,”
He’s keening at your words, a whimper leaving his lips. His eyes are blown out in pleasure as he meets your gaze, and you kiss him again, sloppy and messy, as his tongue brushes against yours, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection.
“Please,” he can’t help the words leaving his lips, “I need you,”
“Is this the first time you’ve begged for something?” You tease him, smirk on your lips as your thumb teases one of his nipples, pulling a gasp from his lips, “such a good boy,”
He hissed at your praise, “fuck—“
And you’re grinding against him, he’s already embarrassingly hard, blood rushing back to his cock as if it never left, as it drags against the all too wet fabric of your panties. And every small moan that leaves your lips leaving him needing more, his pre cum mixing with your cum that seeps through your panties, and is the second time he comes with you gonna be just grinding against each other on this bed? But he can’t help it if you keep nibbling at his neck like that, your pretty little pants in his ear, the head of his dick catching on your clit — so fucking good.
“Toru, c-close, ngh, g’nna cum—“ and he’s nodding, forcing his eyes open to watch you cum, your chest shaking, as you hover above him, your eyes squeezed shut and lips parted as you said his name.
“S’good,” he’s grunting, “Cum f’me,” and you both do, the slick and stickiness between your bodies almost unbearable, as you both pant, as you rest your head against his shoulder.
The silence sinks in for a moment, as you kiss his cheek, “we can stop here if you want,” your voice is soft, nose brushing against his neck, “don’t want to make you—“
And he’s flipping you onto your back, his fingers finding the waistband of your shorts, your breath hitching as he drags the material down your legs, and tosses it behind him, “I want this, I want you, and I won’t stop saying it until you believe it,” he leans down, breath warming your breasts through your shirt, before his lips suck at your clothed nipples, making you shiver, “you like that, huh?”
“Shut up,” your cheeks burn, but he’s only tugging your shirt over your head and off, his gaze hot as he drags his eyes down your exposed body, and it makes you squirm, “Satoru — please—“
“Now who’s the one doing the begging?” he leans down to suck on your nipple, while his fingers toy with the other between his thumb and forefinger, “I wanna learn what makes you feel good — wanna make you cum under my touch, wanna taste you,” he switches sides, his teeth grazing the skin of your breast, sucking a mark before soothing it with his tongue, “mine,”
“Satoru, fuck, I want—“ and his fingers trace down your body, making you gasp, he’s kissing down your chest and then your stomach, tongue dipping into your bellybutton, “you fucking—“
“Gotta make you feel good don’t I?” he has a shit eating grin on his lips, as he settles between your thighs, and his fingers press against the growing wet patch on your panties, “though it looks like you’re already feeling good,”
You bite back a whimper, “Are you gonna make me feel good or are you gonna keep talking—“ you moan when his thumb bears down on your needy clit, rubbing it through the nearly translucent fabric of your underwear.
“What was that, sweetheart?” And he’s snapping the waistband of your panties against your skin, “couldn’t hear you,”
“You fucker—“ and he’s kissing your clothed cunt through the wet fabric, nose brushing against your clit, making you nearly shake, as he inhales before he moans.
“So sweet, must taste even sweeter,” he murmurs before tugging your underwear down, before you’re kicking it off, making him chuckle, “so eager,” and you scowl up at him, ineffective from the way lips are parted, “you’re so cute,”
“I’m not cute,” you pout, and he’s laughing, a noise you could drown in, just as you do his eyes.
“You’re very cute, and I’ll tell you as many times as it takes you to believe it,” and his lips press soft kisses to your thighs, “my cute bodyguard, you gonna guard my heart as well as you do my body?”
And before you can reply his breath is warming your soaked cunt, his fingers parting your folds apart, your clit was puffy, your sex slick with your mixed juices, “so pretty, this all just for me?” And you hiss as he holds your outer lips apart, “so this is what your pussy looks like, huh?” And your thighs are twitching, trying to shut, but his palms hold you apart, his heated gaze meeting your shy ones, “you’re perfect, don’t hide from me, you’ve done enough of that,” and he kisses your clit, making you moan, “and I won’t have that anymore,”
“Satoru—“ and his tongue drags over the length of your dripping pussy experimentally, tip of his tongue flicking against your clit, fuck, how can he this good at this? Your toes are already curling as he groans, his fingers sliding under your thighs, and tugging you impossibly closer to his face. Your fingers weave into his white locks, “‘ngh—
“Be a good girl and take it,” he grunts against you, slurping your juices, the sounds of his tongue buried in your cunt, fucking you open, dragging across your walls, “taste s’fucking good, how’d I hold out this long without tasting you?” And your eyes flutter open at his groans, seeing him grind down on the sheets, so fucking horny from eating you out, “g’nna just cum from your taste alone, Princess,” you’re so incredibly soft, so soft, despite your walls being so tough, and it makes only eat you eat you from the inside out.
You’re so close, and all you hear is the sounds of his greedy tongue swallowing you whole, and the sound of your heartbeat and short gasps. Your walls flutter around his tongue, your thighs twitching under his touch, hips jolting forward to meet his touch, his tongue so fucking deep that you can’t see straight, “Toru, please, I’m so close—“
And you feel him groan into your pussy, redoubling his efforts before his fingers find your clit and rub at it while he sucks at your cunt. You cum hard, fingernails digging into his scalp, as your back arches as he eagerly eats you out through your orgasm. The wet squelch of your cunt and his tongue slurping against you, drinking every drop you offer him.
And then finally he’s pulling away with a pop, his chin and mouth dripping with your release and his spit, pink tongue darting out to clean up your cum from his face, wiping off the rest as he looked up at you from white lashed half lidded eyes.
And you can’t even speak, still coming down from your high, as he kisses up your body again, your thighs still shaking from your orgasm, your fingers reaching for his cheek, tracing his jaw, before cupping his cheek.
“How the fuck do you know how to do that well?” And he flashes a pretty smile, as he drags his thumb down your lips.
“I said I was a virgin, I didn’t say I didn’t know how to do some things — and as you know, I’m an excellent student,” and you huff, raising an eyebrow, “and I’m naturally good at everything,”
“And always so humble,” he laughs, before he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his sweet lips, and you’re rolling him over onto his back, his erection slick with precum, pressing against your sensitive cunt, “let me make you feel good now,” you murmur, his cock twitching against you, “wanna ride you, Toru, need you in me,”
And he’s hissing, as he moves to sit against the headboard, “You keep talking like that princess, I’m g’nna cum before you even—“ and your fingers are reaching between your bodies, and you’re stroking him, smearing his precum over the length of his shaft, making his hips jerk, “fuck—”
You’re so fucking pretty — your teeth baring down on your bottom lip, as you straddle him, hovering still, his aching tip barely brushing against your dripping cunt, “are you sure?” you murmur, eyes meeting his own, and his lips quirk into a smile.
“Never been more sure of anything,” and you sink onto him, thick length parting your folds, and he groans, as you fit him in your pussy, inch by inch, until your hips are flush. And fuck, he’s never felt anything better — pleasure runs up and down his body, as his hands find their way to your hips.
You’re tense at first, your back slightly arched, and when he shifts under you, a moan is ripped from your lips, as you begin to adjust to his size, “s’big, Toru, gonna make it hard for me to last too, feels too good,” you’re mumbling, and he’s holding his hips taut, making sure not to move — or else, he’s sure he’d cum in one stroke, “g’nna move ok?” and he’s nodding desperately, your walls already fluttering around him — slick and warm, better anything he’d ever felt.
You lift up to the tip, before beginning to rock steadily up and down, as he moans, your sweet cunt swallowing him eagerly, as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. Your chest bounces as you ride him, and he can’t resist leaning forward to take a hardened bud in his mouth, your moan making his cock twitch inside you. And he knows why people become addicted to sex — hell, he knew was an addict for it now, but only with you.
“Fuck, never felt anything this good before, sweetheart, feel s’perfect for me,” he’s grunting, the coil in his stomach growing tighter, as your pace grows more and more sloppy. He wasn’t going to last long, and neither were you from the way you were groaning his name again and again. The wet squelch and smacks of your bodies meeting again and again, only making it harder to hold back, and when he looks to see a white ring of your precum pooling around the base of his dick, he’s nearly gone, “fuck, baby, need you to cum with me,”
“It’s okay, pretty boy, cum for me,” he keens at the praise, but he’s stubborn, as you established, and he won’t cum until you do too — and so he ensures it, reaching between your bodies to rub meanly at your clit before meeting your thrusts with his own.
And his tip brushes against that spot that has your vision blurring and toes curling, “Toru, ngh, I’m—” and you’re cumming hard around him, making him spill his warm and thick seed inside your cunt, and he’s groaning you name as he does, your body slowing as you both come down from your highs, your head resting on his shoulder, as your bodies grow limp, resting, his back pressed to the headboard of his bed.
His fingers trace the curve of your back gently, as he turns his head to press soft kisses to your neck, “Am I still just a distraction?” his lips curled into a smile, and you chuckle, burying your face in his shoulder.
“Definitely,” but you lean back to cup his cheek, and look at his pretty face again, “but one worth having.”
You don’t wake from your alarm the next morning.
Instead, you wake to banging on the door. You both jolt awake, and he’s pulling you into his arms, even as you move to get up, he won’t let go, strong arms around your waist. You’re easing his arms off, trying to be gentle, “Toru, let go, and wait here, your father had a panic room installed in your closet, you hear anything, go inside—”
“No, I’m coming with you,” and you shake your head.
“I’m hired to protect you, not the other way around,” you leave his embrace, and face him, his crystal eyes blurred over with worry, “I can handle this,” you reassure him, your fingers intertwining with his, as you press a kiss to his knuckles, “I promise,”
“But—” and you kiss him gently, silencing his protests, before you slip away into the hallway.
You enter the living room, shutting the bedroom door without a sound, stalking through the hall, as you grab a knife and pepper spray from the chest of drawers that was pressed to the wall of the hallway — you had several self defense tools hidden all over the apartment. Your heartbeat thunders in your ear, mouth dry, as you approach the door from the side.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Mr. Gojo, open this door,” and you sigh, relaxing, as you check and unlock the door for him.
Shinsaku Gojo was only a man you were able to meet once before your work for him began. And it was a privilege even to see him then. His schedule was always packed — multiple meetings, multiple clients, and multiple women, all vying for his attention. Even as you spoke with him the first time, his eyes were on his phone the entire time, except when he had warned you, not to let anything distract you from protecting his son.
And you had done just that — and even worse, his son had done the distracting, “Mr—”
“Where’s my son? He hasn’t answered his phone all morning, and neither have you—didn’t you hear from your agency?” his voice is raising, as he dials your number again, and your phone vibrates on the couch. He scoffs, disconnecting the call, as his hard gaze turned back to you, “what if there was a threat? You left your phone—”
“Dad,” Satoru emerges from the room, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, “it’s not her fault, she forgot it last night when we were watching a movie,”
“Watching a movie?” he sneers, his cerulean gaze the same as son, but without any of the warmth Satoru had — an icy tundra compared to a warm pool, “she should be watching you, that’s her job—”
“She was watching me — something you never bothered to do,” and his father’s eyes narrow, “she’s shown more concern for me than you ever had — and she only met me a few weeks ago. What’s your excuse for being a pathetic piece of—“
“Satoru,” your fingers brush his shoulder, shaking your head, “sir, I take responsibility for this lapse of judgment. Don’t blame your son,”
Satoru lowers his voice, “it’s not your fault—“
“It is. I disregarded by duty to protect you,” your cheeks burn with shame — “what if i had missed an alert you were in danger? What if I failed to protect you because I wasn’t focused? What if—“
“Nothing happened,” he says softly, and the twitch of his fingers tells you he’s gonna reach for you, but you step forward, shaking your head.
“Nothing did,” and you turn to his father, “I’ll protect Satoru until you can find a suitable replacement for me. But I compromised my mission to protect him. I would like to resign as soon as possible,”
“No! I—“
“Agreed,” his father says, “I’ll have your replacement here in an hour, make sure you’re packed up by then,” and his father leaves without another word.
You brush past him to gather your things, but he’s caught you by the wrist, “Why did you do—“
“Gojo,” and you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, “I can’t let my feelings get in the way of keeping you safe—“
“I don’t care—“ you cut him off.
“I do, I couldn’t stand if something happened to you because of me. What it was an emergency last night and you got hurt because of my own carelessness—“
“It wasn’t careless what happened last night—“
“It was,” you say, walking to your room, “and it won’t happen again.”
You left. You had expected a fight, an argument, a dramatic show of tears — but nothing. Satoru hadn’t even opened his door to watch you leave. The other bodyguard arrived quickly, and you left the penthouse and didn’t look back.
It was for the best.
You had a duty, a role to play, and more than that, you couldn’t let him get hurt because of your inability to compartmentalize. Even so, Satoru’s father was kind enough not to have told your father what happened — or you supposed it was pity in exchange for your quick and easy resignation.
Fuck. Why were you still thinking about this? You rolled over in bed, burying your head under your comforter. A week out, and you still couldn’t stop worrying about Satoru, about his safety, about the hurt on his face, about that night…
You had fucked everything up, and fucked Satoru up in the aftermath.
You poke your head out, and stare at your phone on your bedside table — 7:45 PM, no new messages — you had written out six different messages to him again and again, before deleting them. You wondered how many more you’d write before you finally would rid your mind of him.
Would you ever rid your mind of him?
And that’s when your phone rings. But it’s not flashing Satoru’s number — it’s his father. You scramble for the phone — why was he calling? And you can only think of one reason. You can’t say a single word when you pick up — his father already hissing his first question.
“Where is he?” your words are lodged in your throat, stuck on your heart that had leapt from your chest.
“What?”
“Where’s Satoru? He came to you didn’t he?” he growls, and you hear a slam, assumedly his fist against his desk, “he shook off his new bodyguard, and his phone is off,”
“He hasn’t — I haven’t talked to him since I left—” your mind is running a mile a minute, racking your brain, placing the call on speakerphone, as you text Satoru, where are you? “Where did the bodyguard see him last?”
“He had him at the dorms, he said he was going to see a friend, and then gave him the slip,” his father groans, “you hear anything from him, otherwise—”
“I’ll let you know,” you cut him off at the threats — you had more important things to do. You checked your messages, but your messages hadn’t gone through, and you tried calling him — but it went straight to voicemail. Satoru was upset — he could’ve blocked you or turned off his phone to piss off his father, but you didn’t see him doing that. He was an idiot, but he knew his father would lose his shit.
And then you remembered. The tracker you placed on Satoru — you never took it off. You had sewed it into the insole of his daily shoes (the man had far too many clothes and shoes, but he rarely found the energy to not wear anything besides the shoes he always wore).
You turned it on, biting your lip as you watched the tracker loaded, and his location popped up — and it wasn’t at his apartment.
It was in Shibuya — you typed in the address and he was at a house.
You furrow your brow, who did he know who lived in Shibuya? And then it clicked.
Fuck.
Those girls.
Satoru groaned, fuck, why is his head hurting so badly?
It wasn’t exactly unusual the last few days. He hadn’t been sleeping much since you left, he spent most of his nights watching TV and rotting in his bed. But everything reminded him of you — his bed, his couch, and even the shows he watched (he had continued one of the shows you both had started one late night).
His apartment was a disaster — a mess of empty soda cans, empty wrappers of candy and old takeout containers. But he couldn’t be bothered with it — to clean it up or call someone to clean it up. His bodyguard had taken up residence in your room — or rather the guest room — and hardly emerged, keeping an eye on him through cameras his father had installed around the doors and hallway.
Not that he really needed to, Satoru rarely left his apartment, even had skipped classes for a week — sending an email that he had a very contagious illness and that he’d be happy to attend class if necessary. They sent him materials to work on classwork from home, piled untouched on his kitchen counter, with a possible smudge from the hot fudge he had last night.
He had made progress — instead of staying in bed, he moved onto the couch for his afternoon nap, and he had just fallen asleep when there was a banging on his door. He groaned into the couch pillow he had just gotten comfortable on, before pulling it onto his head, trying to block out the sounds of the knocking.
“Satoru! Open up,” he hears Suguru’s voice through the door, “open the fucking door, I know you’re not sick,”
He pulls himself up, groaning, as he wipes the small amount of drool from his lips, as he meanders to the door, throwing it open.
“You look like shit,” Suguru says, brushing past him to enter.
“No ‘hello, you look like shit?’” He mumbles, still rubbing his eyes, “what are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you that,” he stands, hands in his pockets, as he takes in the mess with a wrinkled nose, “although I see you’ve decided to redecorate,”
“Hilarious,” Satoru replies, lying back on the couch, “did you come here just to hassle me?”
“I’d be lying if I didn’t say that wasn’t part of it, but the other was to see if you’re ready to pick yourself back up after your breakup—“
“It wasn’t a breakup,” Satoru snaps.
“If it wasn’t, then why does it look like you haven’t showered in several days since she left?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, and Satoru scowls.
“I’m sick,” he turns away to face the couch, “I don’t have the energy to shower,”
“But you have the energy to eat about half a dozen mochi doughnuts?” Suguru holds up an empty doughnut box, and Satoru holds a couch pillow to his chest, “Satoru, come on, it isn’t like you to wallow like this,”
“I’m not wallowing—“
“Yeah, yeah, you’re sick, right?” Suguru says sarcastically. Satoru doesn’t need to look at his best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes, “well you don’t seem like you’re sneezing or coughing so go take a shower or something,” Satoru gives a weak fake cough, and he could feel Suguru’s glare, “fine, rot in bed, but you have to get up sometime, just text me when you’re ready to,”
And Satoru hears Suguru’s footsteps recede to the door, swinging shut with a click behind him. He buries his face in the pillow. It wasn’t a break up. How could it be when you didn’t even have a relationship to begin with? You had made that clear enough when you left without another word to him. He didn’t leave his room until he heard the door shut behind you, and he made his way out to watch you leave out the front door of the apartment. And you didn’t even look back. But you weren’t the type to.
He felt like he was always looking back — one way or another.
And even now, as he came to — he was trying to remember what he had done after Suguru left. Someone else had shown up — knocked at his door. Offered to get him out of the house — offered him free alcohol and a distraction.
And he had agreed — if only to forget about you for a moment. Drinking was the only thing that made him forget — if he only could somehow forget how terrible alcohol tasted.
His head spun, so was this a hangover? It’s certainly worse than the one he had before — the last one felt like his brain was fuzzy and nausea clawed at his stomach — this time, it felt more akin to someone taking a blender to both of those organs. And his neck, he stretched it both ways. How had he fallen asleep?
And then he tried to lift up his hand to rub his eyes, and he couldn't, wrist straining against something — his brow furrowed, what was arm caught on — and his eyes fluttered open. It was dark — the only light came from another room, peeking through the crack at the bottom of, what he assumed was, a door. And then as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he looked at his arms.
Ropes. Twisted around both his arms, binding his wrists and forearms to the arms of a chair, and his vision blurs — what? His legs jerk instinctively, but ropes dig into the flesh of his ankles, and he glanced down only to find what he expected.
“You’re awake,” the light flicks on, he lifts his head, blinking away the fog in his head and the burning tears slipping from his eyes, “didn’t realize the drug would knock you out for that long,”
He blinks again and again, light flooding his eyes, until he can see and sees a familiar face — “Misaki?” the light sends a piercing jolt through his head, “or is it Yumiko?”
“Well that’s flattering, you can’t even remember my name?” she sighs, crossing her arms, “well I unfortunately don’t have the same luxury,” and then she adds with a quirk of her lips, “it is Yumiko,” and she steps forward, as his eyes squeeze shut, his head still banging, “sorry what I gave you to knock you out can cause some light sensitivity,”
It’s slowly sinking in, “I don’t know what kind of weird kink you have, but I’m not interested,” and she scoffs, pressing her knuckles to her chin, “where am I?”
“Do you think I’m really going to tell you that?” she raises an eyebrow, “I did send you threats after all, you don’t think I’d be that stupid to tell you where I am,”
He needed to buy time, he needed to find a way to get out of here, and to do that, he needed time, “What? Are you obsessed with me or something? Do you want my body?”
“I’m going to stop your overinflated ego there,” she sighs, leaning against a table that was behind her, “I have a debt to pay and you’re the price,”
“Debt?” he repeats, “is this where you explain your whole plan? And villain speech? Because I usually I could care less, but I’m feeling a little generous with my time, as I’m a little tied up at the moment, so—”
“Do you ever shut up?”
“It’s known to happen on occasion,” she rubs her temples, and then something occurs to him, “how did you get my address? You showed up and invited me,”
She shakes his head, “You think I couldn’t find out your address after sending you threats?” and she sighs, “You know this is why I tried to do this at the first party — get it over with so I wouldn’t have to deal with this. But then you crushed your beer cup, your little girlfriend got in the way, and that idiot Misaki accidentally switched her shot glass with yours, so I couldn’t get you dosed,” she grits her teeth, “and then the rest of the semester, your girlfriend was up your ass the entire time — but she wasn’t your girlfriend was she? She was your bodyguard,” he says nothing, “you don’t need to confirm it for me, I already found her information, her name, her address—”
“What do you want? Money? My father will pay anything to get me back. Tell me who you need to repay and he’ll do it,” and her lips curl.
“So serious now — and so cooperative, maybe I should have kidnapped her too while I was at it,” she shrugs, while she grabs her phone from the table — a burner — “my father will be here to escort you to where you need to go. The yakuza will take it from there,” his blood runs cold, “Don’t cause a fuss and i can promise your girlfriend will stay safe,”
He grits his teeth — he was so stupid. This was exactly the kind of shit you were trying to protect him from. And it was the thing he landed himself in the moment you left. But he didn’t care — because it was better this way, because you were safe this way.
“Wow, you’re pretty cute when you’re all quiet,” and she’s walking over, and he’s flinching as she drags a manicured nail down his cheek, before tilting it up, “it’s just that mouth that’s a problem,” and her thumb brushes down his lips, “don’t bite, or we might have a problem,”
And he doesn’t, but then he smiles back, “you might like it when I bite,” he smirks, “why don’t you come here and find out?” And she raises her eyebrows, leaning closer, and he smashes his forehead into hers, “fuck off,”
She stumbles back, losing her balance, and leaning against the table as she clutches at her forehead. Satoru watches her, trying to wriggle out of his constraints, rope chafing against his skin, red welts rising on his skin, but he only manages to get one hand free before she’s starting to get her bearings, and then he’s trying to free himself, his chair tipping over. And now he’s lying helplessly as she stumbles forward over to him, clutching a knife she grabbed off the table.
“I have to hand you over to the yakuza, but they didn’t say you had to be completely unharmed,” she presses the tip of the knife to his cheek, “maybe we’ll do something to that pretty face of yours,” he grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut.
CRACK.
He hears a body slump over, and the clatter of the knife against the cement floor, and his eyes open to find you kneeling beside him. He’s blinking, murmuring your name, “What are you—”
“Well I never did remove that tracker did I?” You’re cutting the ropes on his wrists and ankles with the knife, “and I’m lucky you wear the same damn shoes everyday,”
“Why did you come for me?” he says, as you finally free him his restraints, your fingers gentle as they examine the welts and bruises left on his skin, “you could have just told my father where I was or the police,”
“I could’ve. I saw where you were and I figured it out—“ and your voice wavers, “but all I could think was that I wanted to find you. And I didn’t wanna wait for anyone else. I didn’t want something to happen just because someone else was too slow,” the lump in your throat grows only larger, as you sit, “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,”
“Why?” he asks softly, his fingers brush against your cheek, and he knows why — he does, but he needs to hear it.
“Because I just want…to be the one to protect you,” you admit, tears burning at your eyes, as your thumb traces over his rope burns and bruises, “I wish that I could have,”
“You did a pretty good job, considering I almost was about to get my face cut up,” and he gently wipes your tears away, “imagine what a tragedy that would be,”
You give a watery chuckle, cupping his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” and he opens his mouth, “no i really am. I shouldn’t have slept with you, only to cut and run after. I thought…I thought I was doing you a favor,”
“How?” And you sigh, blinking away your tears.
“I put your life in danger by doing that. I couldn’t do that. I knew the only way you’d let me go is…if I lied to you and said I didn’t care about you,” you bite your bottom lip, “and I’m sorry because I only hurt you more in the end,”
He kisses your lips gently, chastely, his breath warming your lips as he parts from them, “you did,” and you scoff, pushing him playfully, “but as long as you promise not to do it again, I think I can find it in my incredibly generous heart to forgive you,”
You kiss him again, softly, your fingers sliding to the back his neck, into his undercut, “I promise,” and he grins, before leaning back to kiss you again, when a cough behind you catches your attention.
“My father will be getting here shortly you idiots, while you gaze fucking stupidly into each other’s eyes,” she sneers, and you raise an eyebrow.
“You think I’d come here without calling the police? They already have picked up your father — and they should be almost here—“ and the sounds of an ambulance and police sirens come into earshot.
“Good timing,” Satoru mutters, as Yumiko tries and fails to stumble to her feet, and you get up and pin her to the ground. Satoru raises an eyebrow, and watches, as you glance back at him, tilting your head in question, “nothing, it’s just…hot to see you in action,”
You laugh, “Did she hit your head too?” And he shrugs, as he gets onto this feet with shaky legs, “Satoru—“
And he sits next to you, leaning on your shoulder, “just let me rest here for a minute,” he mumbles.
For the first time since you left, Satoru felt like he could finally rest.
And Satoru did rest, he realized as he blinked awake to the ambient sounds of the hospital room, the distinct beep of the heartbeat monitor, the dim light of the moon filtering through the shades, and the distant sounds of people walking through the hall. He hears the sounds of sheets rustling, and his gaze snaps over to his left.
His gaze softens. You were fast asleep beside him, your arms tucked under your head, your breaths were soft, as they were the night you two had spent together. He sat himself up — fingers running through your hair gently. You had fallen asleep before him that night, face buried in the crook of his neck, and your legs entangled with his. And now you slept beside him on a chair, leaning on his bedside.
His fingers carded through your hair again, and you stirred, as he swore under his breath, your eyes fluttered open, “Toru?” you mumbled, still half asleep, and he hummed.
“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he sighed softly, “why are you sleeping here? You should have gone home,” you sit up, stretching, as you furrow your brow, eyes scanning him for any sign of an injury or distress.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay — you were unconscious, but no concussion thankfully. I tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t wake,” you sigh, words tumbling out almost faster than you can think of them, “they mostly kept you for observation, but are you feeling okay? Should I get the nurse—“
And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you, as he sighs, burying his face in your neck, “I just want to stay like this for a while,” he murmurs, “I got everything I need right here, got it?” He feels you nod, and he feels the hint of your tears on his skin, but says nothing, only his lips quirk, “you did mean your promise?”
“I did, I won’t leave like that again,” and he’s leaning back, head tilted, and you chuckle, “I mean I won’t leave you at all, how’s that?”
“Good girl,” he murmurs, leaning closer, and his heart squeezes when he hears your breath hitch as he does. His eyes flicker to your lips and back, “can I kiss—“
But you kiss him first, softly, your fingers brushing his cheek, and god, why was it that a single touch from you melted him away to nothing? Whittled his world view to a pin where all he could feel, all he could see, was you.
And then you kiss his cheeks, his chin, his jaw, and then your teeth graze the soft part of his neck, drawing a pretty gasp from his lips, as you suck lightly on his skin.
He’s whispering your name, breath sucked from his lungs as if your teeth had pierced through his throat instead of just his skin, “what was that for?”
And you smile, “so everyone knows you’re mine.”
“You’re changing your major?” Suguru raises his eyebrow, as he lounges on Satoru’s couch, holding his head up with his elbow propped against the top of the couch, “your father must’ve been thrilled about that,”
“He lost his shit, but that geezer can fuck off,” Satoru shrugs, “he threatened to not pay my tuition, but once I threatened to go public with his dealings with the yakuza, he saw it my way,”
Suguru tilts his head, “His what?”
You bring over tea from the kitchen, placing it on the table, “After what Satoru found out from Yumiko and her father, their debt to the yakuza would have been paid off by kidnapping one of Satoru’s father’s close relatives, but I was wondering why was the yakuza so eager to do so?”
“Apparently my old man had the brilliant idea of entertaining the yakuza on some deal he was making,” Satoru explains, leaning back on the couch, as you sit against his legs, “and when he backed out, the yakuza wanted to push it through anyway — and well, thus their blackmail of Yumiko’s father, once they found out his daughter went to school with me.”
“Yeah, turns out her father had gambling debts owed to the yakuza,” you sighed, “she got caught in the crossfire — I almost feel bad,”
“Speak for yourself, she drugged me, tied me to a chair, and held a knife to my face,” Satoru scoffs, sipping his tea that he had you drown in sugar.
“Well you didn’t complain when I did that last night,” you reply, making both Satoru and Suguru choke, and you laughed, squealing when Satoru lifts you into his lap to bury his face into your back.
“You two are officially sickening to be around,” Suguru grimaces, still coughing from choking down his tea, “I think I liked it better when he was wasting away in his apartment,”
“You wasted away after I left?” You turn to look at Satoru, who shoots a glare at Suguru, “sorry Geto, that’s not happening again,” and Satoru softens his gaze, pressing a kiss to your head.
“Alright, that’s it, I’m leaving,” Suguru gets to his feet, as he glances back at you two, “don’t rush to get up, I’ll see myself out,” he rolls his eyes.
“Don’t worry we weren’t going to,” Satoru pulls you closer, and Suguru narrows his eyes, before his lips curl into a grin.
“Just for that, I’m sending your girlfriend a picture of the mess you looked like when she left,” Satoru gapes at him, while you bite back a laugh.
“Suguru!” Satoru calls, but the door’s shut, and you’re starting to giggle. He’s pouting now, “so my girlfriend thinks it's funny to see me in the pathetic state she left me in?”
“Oh your girlfriend finds it very funny, and she might even make it her boyfriend’s contact picture,” you smirk, and he’s biting back a smile, “What?”
“This is just the first time we called each other that,” he mumbles, a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks, “it’s nice,” he admits.
“Well, I am yours, aren’t I?” you smile, and he presses a kiss to your lips, as he would again and again.
“My one and only.”
✧ a/n: so this fic was so freaking long. i'm sorry it took so long to post this - i got a little sidetracked by prof geto haha. but i'm hoping to start on the next one soon :). i think i'll put a poll up on which one i should write next! edit: forgot to tag the people who requested this, its now added in T_T
✧ taglist: @teatreeoilll, @intrxspectiv, @marvel-fanaticz, @ilovemybabes, @lwustyz, @jayathelostdragon, @vampzys, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @soilmayo, @iwassentfromhell, @lobotomy-kaisen, @gojoallmine, @forest-hashira, @h3artpiecexx, @lailarratx, @gummibat, @hanlay, @ilovewoo9, @nvmlolo, @h6avenly, @eriyvesa, @alexandraioann4, @eclipsephase, @sokkasmoon, @aizzon, @makotome9, @daddytojji, @fluffy-pancakes01, @imjustmememe, @spookyy-gracee, @forest-fruits-jam, @that-goth-bisexual, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @lookinreality,
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