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romanceisdeadbutimnot · 5 months

Text

I guess I maybe had a couple expectations

💌

Summary

When a spring dance is announced for campus everyone collectively agrees that Gojo will be crowned King of the Night. So why are rumors going around that you’ll be queen? And why is everyone convinced that you and Gojo are going together?

In which Gojo ropes you into being his fake dance date without your permission and then promptly falls in love

ao3 masterlist

4- I guess I thought that prom was gonna be fun

Gojo watches your form disappear into the building, agony building in his chest.

Fuck.

He was going to have to ask Shoko how to talk to women.

He was not going to ask Shoko how to talk to women. He’d never live that down.

It wasn’t his fault. He reasoned with himself the entire ride home. He only made up that you had asked him to the dance because he wanted everyone to leave him alone, and your little crush on him was cute. He wasn’t into you, not then anyway, but he enjoyed your presence far more than he had any of his previous girlfriends. He only invited you out to go dress shopping because Geto bet you would reject him. Geto was so confident that your disdain for Gojo would outweigh whatever puppy crush you had. And Gojo, he just had to prove him wrong.

So he took you shopping, he enjoyed your company more than he’d like to admit. You had this look about you, this knowing glance that you’d give him, like you could read his mind. So he thought he’d have fun with you, just for a little bit. But meeting his mother. Meeting his mother was a mistake. You weren’t supposed to see him so vulnerable, so weak. You weren’t supposed to defend him, so fearlessly, so recklessly. And your hand, it wasn’t supposed to be so warm in his own.

Okay, so what, he reasoned. He developed a small crush on you. So he did what he always did when he was interested in someone. He followed you around wooing you. A fool proof plan really, get into a relationship with you, get dumped (eventually like he always does), and forget you ever existed. It was a fool proof plan, until he realized how much he actually liked you. And oh, there was so much to like about you. The way you gave him pointed glares, the way you’d scrunch your nose and squint your eyes, the cherry red blush on your cheeks. He loved how you smelled, like jasmine and marigold, and the way you challenged him at every opportunity. So he panicked. He didn’t know what to do, how to court you properly and so he panicked. Very uncharacteristic of him, but he panicked and bought you gifts. Girls like getting gifts, didn’t they? Sure he may have gone a bit overboard, but he was Gojo fucking Satoru, and who was he if not a bit much.

Still. It seemed like you didn’t quite enjoy the gifts as much as he imagined. Instead you seemed rather flustered and off put, which was dreadfully endearing in its own way. But you didn’t immediately jump into his arms and kiss him like he had thought. Besides it didn’t matter anyway, you were going with him to the banquet. He’d have plenty of time there to show you what a good boyfriend he could be. That’s where it all went awry. Apparently, being a good boyfriend was a lot harder than being a good fuck. He just wanted to kiss you, to be near you, but you were so defensive, and the bonus of pissing off his mom was too good to pass up. So he kissed you, and pissed off his mom. He knew by the half lidded look you had given him, the way he could feel your heart pounding against him, that you had liked the kiss. He was a great kisser, after all.

So, why did you look at him with such disdainful eyes? You liked him, that much he was sure of, yet you seemed to abhor when he paid you any attention romantically. It made no sense to him. How could you like him, and hate him at the same time? It was plain as day how flustered you were, how you’d always protest in his hold, but never make any real move to distance yourself, how you always looked to him in a crowd, how you stood closer to him than you did anyone else in class, you liked him, he knew you liked him. So why? Why did you cry such angry tears when he was trying to give you everything you asked for.

Somewhere he knew deep down, that it was his fault. Somewhere along the way you decided that he couldn’t be trusted. That was why you gave him such a pitiful look. It was because you wanted more than anything for any of his flirting to be true, but you would never believe it was. He knew he should apologize, but he was bad at them. He hoped that if he gave you the weekend to cool down, everything would go back to normal. He could continue flirting with you, and you’d continue rejecting him like always. He could be okay with that. He could live with that, couldn’t he?

The next morning, you grabbed three random bags, and headed to your friend's cluster. Anne, Aliyah, and Wen. They regarded you with strange looks, as you burst in carrying two Dior and one Kate Spades bags into their living room, looking like a hot mess -not even bothering to change out of the golden dress, and holding Hermes purse, since it already had your wallet.

“Did you finally have a psychotic break?” Wen asks. Anne hands Aliyah a five dollar bill, indicating that somewhere along the way they had made a bet about you.

“Gojo is an ass.” You hold up a finger to halt their impending protests. “Before you ask, he bought these, and I have a shit ton more just lying in my room. So don’t feel bad.” You sigh, setting the bags on the table and collapsing onto one of the couches.

“What did he do wrong? I thought the two of you weren’t dating?” Anne asks.

“He kissed me!” You throw your hands into the air.

“How’s that a bad thing? You’ve wanted him to kiss you since freshman year,” Aliyah pipes in, inspecting one of the Dior bags.

“Because! He kissed me, then told me it was only to piss off his mom, ugh,” you groan, rubbing your hands over your eyes.

“Oh,” Wen pats your shoulder affectionately.

“Yeah oh, he’s been playing with me this whole time and I’m a fool because I knew that and I still fell for it.” You wouldn’t be lying when you said you wanted the world to swallow you up whole.

“Don’t feel bad babes, tons of people would have a hard time staying cold hearted if a man that gorgeous was doting on them.” Aliyah attempts to cheer you up.

“Yeah don’t feel bad, Gojo is like totally hot and really charming.” Wen pipes in. “It’s not your fault, he’s a pro at this.”

“Let’s forget him. He’s an ass anyway.” Anne smiles, grabbing her car keys from the wall. “Let’s get overpriced coffee and blast music.”

It worked. You were able to forget Gojo, at least for the weekend. But when Monday rolled around, you couldn’t avoid him forever. To your absolute detriment, (you had arrived just as the class starts in hopes that you could avoid sitting next to Gojo), the only seat visibly open was the one right at the front. It was right between Gojo and his best friend Geto.

“Fuck me,” you groan, setting your notes for class on the table.

“Happily if you decide you’re done with the tomcat,” Geto snickers next to you. Gojo gasps, grabbing the bottom of your seat and dragging it closer to his own. Closer so that it would be so delightfully easy to wrap you into his arms. Which he does.

“You can’t steal my girl that’s bad form,” he sticks his tongue out at Geto who sticks his tongue out right back.

“That would imply that I’m your girl Gojo, and I’m not,” you elbow him in the ribs, struggling harder than you’ve done in the past to break free from his hold. “And to reply to you Geto, never in a million years if this is the company you keep.” There’s venom in your voice, Gojo heard it, Geto heard it.

He lets you go, watching as you scoot your chair back to the middle, maybe just a tad closer to Geto than Gojo, and promptly ignore the two of them. There was no blush on your cheeks, no hidden smiles.

‘You fucked up,’ Geto mouths to him, across from you.

‘I’m fixing it,’ he mouths back, flipping his friend off. He was fixing it, or at least he was going to try.

Lunch rolled around. You had done your best to ignore Gojo all through class, and nearly ran from the room the second class was over. You entered the cafeteria only to find Gojo’s eyes immediately trained upon yours. He perks up, moving to stand and bickering with Shoko who’s turned around and trained her eyes on you as well. Okay so no lunch today. It didn’t bother you too much, this wouldn’t be the first nor last meal skipped. You exit the cafeteria with haste, heading instead to the student activities office where you could hide. That was mostly a success until he caught you trying to study later in one of the several nooks across campus later that afternoon.

He beams at you as he jogs over. You quickly as you can try to shove everything on the desk into your backpack, but it’s too late. He descends upon you like the morning sun, shoveling you into the booth as he moves to sit next to you.

Damn. Trapped.

“Gojo, can’t you see I’m trying to ignore you,” you glare.

“Oh no I can see you’re trying to ignore me, that’s exactly why I’m here,” he tells you with a grin, rifling around in his own backpack.

“Oh perfect, what an excellent plan,” you roll your eyes, debating on whether you should climb over or under the table to escape.

“That’s what I thought!” He exclaims excitedly, before pausing. “You’re not being sarcastic are you?” You give him a pointed look. He relents, finally finding whatever it was in his backpack.

“I brought you a sandwich because you ran away from me at lunch.” He pulls the sandwich out. It was your favorite. It’s followed by a bag of gummy bears, a bag of pink marshmallows in the shape of hearts, a couple zebra cakes, and a handful of jolly ranchers.

“Thank you but I’m not-“ you were going to say you’re not hungry, but as you say it your stomach rumbles loudly. Gojo looks at you, a self satisfied smirk on his face.

“What was that?” He asks.

“Shut up and eat your candy,” you grab the sandwich secretly happy to have something to eat.

“Okay,” he grins at you, a wicked and contagious grin. God he was so gorgeous it was unfair. You try your hardest to not smile back, to ignore the way your heart fluttered when he smiled at you, to forget the way he kissed you, the feeling of earth that blossomed all over your chest.

He pops a marshmallow in his mouth, chewing rather loudly -on purpose- you assumed. You roll your eyes doing your best to ignore him. What would you even say? That you were mad at him? That you weren’t going to the dance? That you hadn’t even opened the rest of the gifts you’d dumped in your room.

You ate in silence. Gojo started talking about some pastry store in Paris that had the most delectable marshmallow cream puffs, you mostly tried to tune him out, but it was hard. You kept thinking of your kiss, how warm his hands felt on your thigh, how soft his lips were, how he tasted like the chocolate covered strawberries he was feasting on earlier that night. With him acting so normal so non-flirtatiously it was hard to remember how mad you were.

You hear the loud ‘mwah’ before you feel his lips pressed against your cheek. Even though you despise it, your cheeks still grow red. You try to play it off.

“Don’t kiss me.” You turn to glare at him, but turn away just as quickly. He was looking at you with rapture, the bright blues of his eyes piercing through your very soul, as if he could see through you. The small satisfied smile on his face.

“I had to do something to get your attention out of your thoughts,” he tells you laughing. You open your mouth to protest his methods but as you do he presses a marshmallow between your lips. You nearly choke on the sweet before glaring at the offender. You chew, begrudgingly, glaring into his eyes. He looks at you pleased. You open your mouth again, clearly having learned nothing from the first time, and he places the zebra cake against your lips. You refuse to open your mouth further, locked in a silent battle, until he adds more pressure, beginning to crumble the cake against your face, smearing frosting against your lips. You swat his hand away annoyed, before as gracefully as you can manage after getting a cake smeared in your face, eating the damn pastry.

“Good I was worried you were gonna starve yourself in pursuit of avoiding me. Can’t have your ass getting flat, and your boo-“ Gojo begins before you cut him off with a slap to his arm.

“Could you bring your mind from the gutter for one minute? I was almost beginning to enjoy your company,” you chastise. That has him shutting up quickly as he locks his lips with an imaginary key for good measure. “Now leave, I'm trying to study.” And despite all odds he actually listens, packing up his candies and leaving the second zebra cake in case you were still hungry.

The rest of the week goes something like that. You try your best to avoid Gojo, and maintain your anger. He finds you, and makes it really difficult to even imagine that you could’ve been so mad just days before. You wouldn’t say that he wasn’t annoying or pushy, but he seemed to have a sixth sense of what lines to cross, and which to stay behind. Was he touchy? Yes, but they were mostly friendly, aside from the occasional kiss on the cheek, or the forehead or the hand. It was hard to stay mad, when he looked at you like the universe was unfolding in your eyes. You had never seen him with such an expression, not with any of his previous lovers, not even with Geto. It was flattering, it was intoxicating, it was down right addicting, and that was bad for your health. It was bad how high he lifted you, boosted your ego at every opportunity, while somehow keeping it light and teasing.

If you were screwed before, you were definitely screwed now. You were holding your own, at least in front of him. At night, his sunglasses that sat on your desk, the ones you kept forgetting to grab to return, taunted you. Your dreamers were haunted by a blue eyed white haired ghost. It was utterly infuriating, but you were managing. Keeping him at a friendly distance. It wasn’t until Sunday night, that your resolve finally broke.

“Come on girl, it’ll be fun and help you get over Gojo. He’s sticking around like a bad cold, and that’s not good for you,” Aliyah begs you, already dressed to the nines in clubbing attire.

“On Sunday night? I don’t think so,” you smile at her, amused but confident in your decision. Wen was rifling through your, still unopened bags, doing a poor job of masking her excitement and shock. She wasn’t the one you needed to worry about though. It was Anne, because she had the look in her eye. The look that you knew was going to destroy your whole plan.

“You promised me on my birthday when you ditched us to study for that exam, that I could have one free pass, as long as you didn’t have an exam the next day. And news flash you don’t have an exam Monday. You have to go!” She was looking at you with pleading eyes.

“Besides, you have the perfect outfit right here!” Wen pulls out a sexy silky black dress. It looked short, and skin tight, and very expensive.

“I don’t know guys.” You try to plead your case.

So it wasn’t technically your doing, you liked a good party every now and again, but you weren’t feeling it tonight. The glaring lights, the loud reverberating music, the stench of alcohol and the smoky haze all seemed more headache inducing than fun. You friends were well on their way to becoming tipsy. You had had a drink or two, and were starting to feel the effects. Not enough to get you in the mood, but just enough that it was hard to emotionally regulate.

You were trying to have fun, you really were. You were dressed up, all hot and sexy, in the expensive little black dress. One that Gojo had bought. You were kinda miffed at how good you looked in it. Yet despite all that, you weren’t having a good time. You were annoyed and grumpy. It seemed like the more you wanted to have fun, the more upset you were. You wanted to be having a good time like Wen who was making out with a smokin hot woman at the bar, or Aliyah who was dancing and grinding with strangers on the dance floor. Anne was doing her best to get you in the mood, pointing off your potential suitors and fending off her own. You could tell though that your bad mood was dragging her own fun down. As much as you thought it might be fun to flirt with random strangers and grind the night away, you just weren’t feeling it. They didn’t fit your standards, everyone seemed lecherous and greasy and foolish. Since you weren’t feeling it, you weren’t feeling confident, and the lack of confidence led to an increased lack of interest in you. Something that stung considering it rubbed salt in the wound of you believing Gojo was only messing around. If you weren’t pulling more than 5/10 how was the 10/10 even remotely attracted to you. The revolution only soured your mood more.

Eventually you decide not to waste anymore of Anne’s time citing that you were gonna call and Uber and head home. You promised you’d be safe, and text her the car plate and when you get back. With that you were off, weaving your way through the club, looking back to see Anne joining a rowdy and eccentricity dressed group of individuals on the dance floor, smiling and laughing with the biggest grin on her face. You were happy she was enjoying herself now, and happy that you were leaving instead of bringing the whole mood down.

By the time you make it out of the club you’re more than ready to be back in bed. Instead you were standing in the pouring rain, trying to order an Uber while the cars kept canceling. It was more than frustrating, you were just about ready to say fuck it and cry while walking back home.

For the last 45 minutes Gojo had been sitting in his car, outside of the club, willing himself to go inside. Usually it was completely his scene, plenty of people to flirt with, plenty of alcohol, and zero responsibilities. The whole reason he had decided to go out in the first place was to convince himself that whatever infatuation he had with you, that it was just that. Over the week he had begun to realize that whatever crush he had on you was starting to get really serious, a little too serious if you asked him. If he thought he was panicking before, he was certainly freaking out now.

So he was going to get wasted, flirt with people, and have a one night stand. He was desperately trying to convince himself that the feelings he held for you weren’t real feelings and that you were just filling the gap like so many had before you. So he was going to go drinking and clubbing without worrying about what you were doing knowing that his actions could and would hurt you. It was a genius plan by all accounts, and after banging some hot chic he’d certainly realize how little you actually mattered.

It was going to work, his plan was destined to work. Except- he couldn’t get himself to actually go into the club. Every time he thought about leaving the car he’d get such an intense bout of nausea he thought he was dying. The pain he felt in his chest had him googling heart attack symptoms with the ambulance on speed dial. Maybe he ate something bad, or he was coming down with some strange cold. It didn’t strike him til about the 35 minute mark that what he was feeling was guilt for treating you thoughtlessly. Even considering going out and flirting with anyone other than you was gut wrenching.

If that revelation wasn’t bad enough, it had started to rain. It was absolutely pouring, enough that it was starting to get hard to see out of his windshield. He was just about to leave when he sees you exit the club, looking worse for wear standing in the rain. He watches you for a moment, apprehensively, as if you were a figment of his imagination, a hallucination brought on by his realization of how deep his feelings for you ran. Especially because you were in the little black dress he had bought, especially because even with your hair in sopping ringlets around your face you looked more beautiful than any model he had ever seen.

After about ten minutes of you standing in the rain, he sees you turn and begin walking toward campus. It’s like something in him snapped, and before he’s thinking properly (about how he could’ve driven to you, or grabbed the umbrella under his back seat) he’s out of his car and running toward you in the rain.

At first you think Gojo’s voice is a hallucination in your brain. After feeling practically unfuckable, bringing the whole mood of the party down, and getting drenched in water while the immediate area became a Uber desert he was there to taunt you. Except he wasn’t. He was real, wearing a really wet white button down with white pants, running toward you in the rain. You can barely make out his car behind him, the headlights refracting through the rain. An angel. He looks like an angel, the light casting a brilliant halo behind him, his eyes piercing even in the rain, porcelain skin dewey and bright. Oh, oh, you could fall just like that. When he reaches you, he towers of your form, eyes searching and scanning, noticing every twitch of your hand, every flutter of every eyelash, how the water cascaded around your body. He was looking at you like you were art, like he was enraptured with your entire being, every angle, every side, every emotion, each hidden meaning and knowing glance. And maybe it was the shitty day, or the rain, or the week, or everything that you were going through, maybe it was the club, or how he looked at you, but you threw yourself into his arms.

#jjk gojo x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo x you

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romanceisdeadbutimnot · 6 months

Text

I guess I maybe had a couple expectations

💌

Summary

In which Gojo ropes you into being his fake dance date without your permission and then promptly falls in love.

ao3 masterlist

3. But no i didn’t

So you arrived at a grand ballroom, wearing clothes that cost your tuition, and glued to Gojo’s side. If the looks all of the attendees were giving you was anything to go by you were more than fashionably late. In fact, it seemed like the further you stepped into the crowd the more people began to stare. On Gojo’s part he looked like he thrived on the attention. Figured for ‘Gojo the untouchable’. You stuck closely to his side, for the majority of the first part of the party. You didn’t talk much, you didn’t know what to say, beyond polite idle chatter.

‘Oh you went to the bahamas? How exciting!’

‘That dress is absolutely beautiful.’

‘I can’t believe he would say that.’

As the night progressed talk shifted from surface levels to vaguely hidden threats and gossip. When it came to business Gojo did all the talking. He was like a shining golden light, so blinding. It didn’t help that whenever he met your eyes he’d send you a playful wink, or a dazzling smile. Without fail it made your heart flutter, and your lips scoff. He was a player through and through, and you were getting bored. You had yet to see his mom, or even anyone you recognized. You were starting to wonder why he had even invited you. Was he really just down arm candy for the evening?

“It was great talking to you!” Gojo calls to the couple walking away from you, the woman flips him the bird without looking back.

“What’s the point of coming to these things if you just piss off every other person you talk to.” You look up to him, he just looks back at you with a small smile.

“Getting bored already?” He asks, barely containing his laughter.

“So you’re not dense, just ignoring me on purpose,” you retort.

“Come on,” he whines. “We’re just getting to the climax!” He attaches himself to your side, whimpering like a kicked puppy.

“Gojo! Get it together! People are whispering,” you hiss at him.

“I thought I told you to call me Satoru. Are you mad honey?” He perks right up. “I know! I’ll buy you the Maserati you were looking at earlier.” He guides you to the side of the party, towards a deserted hallway. He was lying, you couldn’t even recall if you had ever seen a Maserati in person. Moreover you weren’t quite sure as to why he was lying. Was everything in this room just a large performance? Gojo pulls you into a deserted hallway, shielded from the party by a large marble column. He ignores your complaints, pushing you into the wall, and cornering you in. Your heart speeds to a mile a minute. What was he doing? Why was he pinning you to the wall in a dark shady corner?

“Gojo!” You protest loudly this time, trying to catch his attention as he’s looking wildly around the room.

“Shh.”

“What are we doing?”

“Shhhh.”

“Gojo!” You yell. You barely catch his brilliant blue eyes behind the shades as he turns to you, placing a hand over your mouth.

“Shh,” he winks, going back to searching the party. Whatever he was looking for it seems he found it, as he turns back to you with a mischievous grin on his face. You nip at his hand, your protests muffled.

“Kinky.” He pulls his hand from your face. You go bright red.

“Shut up. What are we doing over here?” You ask.

“My mom just finished her third glass. Hurry, grab your lipstick.” He tells you, and despite the questions it raises, you go to your purse, pulling the decadent shade from its place.

“Here,” you try to give it to him, but he’s not looking at you, rather he’s looking behind you. He snatches it from your hands quite abruptly, popping off the cap and placing it between his lips. Then, without any hesitation, he pounced upon you like a cat would a mouse. He grabs your face with one hand, pressing you into the wall behind him with his chest. He steps around either side of you, pinning you on all sides. Then with his other hand, he begins to sloppily apply the lipstick to your lips. You can’t help the sparks that start in your chest and travel down. When he’s satisfied with his work, he pops the cap back onto the tube and places it into your hands. Then swiftly, expertly, he’s loosening his tie, unbuttoning the first three buttons on his shirt, and untucking it from its place behind his belt. You glance between the lipstick, him and his dexterous hands. What on earth? Was he trying to make it look like the two of you were hooking up in the corner? Then he’s taking off his glasses, before you can even appreciate his eyes, the dark lens covers your own. You open your mouth to protest, but your lips are quickly captured as he pulls your face into his own. He’s pushy, incredibly so, nearly instantaneously pushing his tongue past your lips. His hands wander your frame. One going to your hip, sliding down your thigh, and pulling it around his waist. The other finds its way to the back of your neck, keeping you pulled to him, despite the way that your hands are pressed into his chest. His very firm, very muscular chest. When you feel like you might pass you from asphyxiation, he pulls away. You quickly realize why he had smothered your lips in pigment. His lips were smeared with the color from your own. Your heart skips beats, you couldn’t deny how incredibly into whatever just happened you were. In the same token though, you’d sure as hell try.

“Gojo what the hell!” You sound irked. He kissed you, without your permission, and god damn you liked it. So many thoughts were racing through your head. Did he like you? Were you just another name on his list? What was the purpose? Was it all for show? Is that why he coated your lips in that shade?

“My mom always excuses herself to the ‘powder’ room after her third class of champagne. So she had to walk by us on her way over,” he explains, as if that justified kissing you. As if that would be the only reason he’d kiss you. Anger, and confusion, and hurt and betrayal, well up inside your chest. Most of all, you felt betrayed by your own heart. Of course Gojo wasn’t kissing you because he liked you. He was giving you such expensive presents as compensation for using you in his little game.

“Oh-h.” It took everything in you, to quell your disappointment. You would not give Gojo the satisfaction of winning.

“I only regret not seeing her face as she walked over. I bet it was priceless!” He barks out a laugh, peering over your shoulder to see if he could spot her. You felt as if your world was crashing around you. Not only was he completely not serious about you, kissing you was such an insignificant thing he would rather have seen the annoyed expression on his mom’s face. You muster all the bravado you can. Pushing him off you.

“I need to fix my lips, and hair now. So I’ll let you know when i see her.” Your tone was cold. Colder than you intended, but that’s all you could manage in your state. Gojo is quiet behind you, but you don’t dare to turn to look at him.

It’s only after you enter the bathroom you realize you had stolen Gojo’s sunglasses. Whatever, it serves him right. He was playing with your feelings after all. You knew exactly what he was doing, with the gifts and the puppy eyes. It was all a ploy, and like a fool you’d fallen for it.

You take a moment to fix your hair, pushing the glasses onto your head, worried that they’d be scratched in your purse. Then you gather a couple paper towels and wet them, wiping at your ruined lipstick. How he had managed to smear it all over was beyond you. You spend what felt like an eternity wiping the product off your face, when his mother appears behind you in the mirror. You nearly jump, having been so caught up in boy problems that you forgot she was in here.

“You look like shit.” She tells you, rather coldly, washing her hands in the sink beside your own. At least Gojo got what he wanted. His mom was certainly pissed.

“That’s why I’m in here fixing it. It’s unfortunate that your face can’t be fixed as well.” you cooly respond, running another paper towel under the sink. She regards you for a long moment, before responding.

“You look like you’re about to cry. What? Did my son fuck another girl, and buy you this outfit to make up for it?” She laughs at you.

“What?” You ask, turning to her as if she was the gum on the bottom of your shoe.

“He’s so predictable it’s boring. Cheat on his girlfriend, buy her a gift to make up for it- right afterwards to cleanse his concise before she finds out. Looks like you’re smarter than I thought, figured it out already? Was her lipstick on his shirt collar?” She shrugs, drying her hands and pulling out her own lipstick. Against your better judgment you humor her.

“Is that so?” You ask, trying to sound as calm and collected as possible, trying to give off the impression that you really couldn’t care less.

“Honey, you’re hardly the first stray he’s brought home, and you certainly won’t be the last. It’s a hard world we’re living in. People like you aren’t cut out for it.” She finishes up and heads for the door. As she opens it she looks back to you. “Gojo thinks he can escape it by using girls like you but he can’t. He’s being pathetic and childish, so get over him before he ruins you.”

“You’re the only one who seems to have her mood ruined. Gojo’s been on his best behavior.” You snarl back at her. “And even if he were to mess around, I’d be stupid give up this position. I like the benefits, wouldn’t you?”

She huffs and lets the door close behind her.

Oh.

Even his own mother knew he was just messing around. You knew he wasn’t serious. You knew it, and yet a little part of you had always hoped. Whatever. It’s not like you asked him to buy you all those presents or kiss you in the corner. You’d just keep denying him, as you always had, until he got bored and moved on. You could make it. You could fake it. Couldn’t you?

You pull the lipstick from your bag, and re-apply it to your lips. When you go back and join Gojo he’s talking to his mother. She meets your eyes with fire, and you glare back, intertwining your fingers into his. She cocks her brow. Gojo was still relatively disheveled. Your lipstick roughly smeared onto his shirt sleeve, a fair portion of it remaining.

“Hey gorgeous, what took you so long?” Gojo sends you a playful wink.

“Oh nothing, I was taking pictures in the mirror. The bathrooms are so fancy here.” You smile. As if nothing is wrong. His mom rolls her eyes.

“It’s a bad look to bring discount hookers to business functions darling. You’re making me look bad,” She buttons his shirt, and if you didn’t know better he nearly flinched at her contact. Even though you were mad at him, no one deserved to look like that. Especially when facing their own mother.

“No worse a look than fading actresses still clinging to the past.” You fire back. “Being a housewife doesn’t suit you.” You may or may not have done some research on his mother, after you were done insulting her the first time. Just in case you needed more ammunition. Turns out you did.

“Satoru get a hold of your woman!” She hisses lowly, glancing around the room. You look at him. His lips are pursed like he has something to say on the tip of his tongue, yet he says nothing. His eyes are wide, wider than you’ve ever seen like he was a doe in the headlights.

“He’s done listening to your bad advice, and trying mine for a change. Come on darling, she’s just trying to get in our heads.”

Your bravado must’ve worn off on the man standing next to you. As he finally voices his own.

“Excuse us, I have a toast to make.” He excuses himself from the scene. You half had in mind to protest, because you weren’t done getting under his moms skin. Gojo, the insufferable prick he is, hops onto the nearest table, with no regard to those dining there. His hand, still interlocked with yours drags you up, and you have no choice but to hop up there along with him or be dragged face first into someone’s meal. He steals a glass of champagne and a fork calling everyone’s attention to the room.

“Thank you for taking a moment of your time to listen to what I have to say,” he smirks at you with a devious grin. “My university is putting on a school dance, it’s going to be gorgeous, and there’s no one I’d rather go with than you.” He looks to you grinning like a madman. “Will you go with me, my love?” The room erupts with noise.

You were floored. Absolutely astounded by the gall. Here, in front of at least 100 people, he was asking you to the dance. You briefly catch his mom’s glare in the crowd. She looks absolutely horrified by his display.

“I’d be honored,” you tell him. Trying to ease the bundle of nerves settling into your stomach. He pulls you close, for the second time that night and captures your lips with his own. This kiss is short and sweet. Before you even have time to think or protest he’s scooping you off the table, bridal style, and jumping down. The crowd has applauded, though you can tell a number of the older patrons are miffed. Gojo seems not to care, high off adrenaline he stalks through the crowd with you in his arms, until he’s delivered you to the parking lot.

“Put. Me. Down.” He does so, begrudgingly. When your feet finally make it to the pavement you shove him off you, stalking towards his car.

“Hey, Hey!” He calls after you, jogging to catch up with you.

“You’re an inconsiderate Buffon of a man! I don’t even know why I came. I should be studying,” you yell. When you make it to the passenger side door you pull in the handle. If refuses to budge even as you violently pull against it. You huff angrily Turing to Gojo who’s stopped 2 paces away.

“I know you’re mad at me, but I’m not sure as to why,” Gojo speaks slowly, carefully. It’s different from how he usually regards you, and he has such a soft and sweet expression on his face. You nearly melt, but then he opens up his big mouth and ruins it. “I mean we pissed off my mom, and I officially asked you to the dance. What more could you want?”

Oh. Oh that. That made you angry.

“Jesus fuck Gojo! Maybe for you to actually consider me when coming up with these grand plans. You show up uninvited, take me away from my studies, kiss me without my permission, force me to go toe to toe with your mother to fucking protect you! And then to top it all off you ask me to the fucking dance in front of hundreds of people so I have no choice but to say yes! And for what! What is this even doing for you? Do you like me? No. Do you actually want to take me to the dance? No. I don’t understand why you have to torture me like this. Why couldn’t you have accepted any other proposal, or just go with your friends!” When you finish, tears are welling in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

Gojo regards you for a long moment. Those gorgeous blue eyes taking in your entire frame. The way your arms crossed against your chest in a soothing self hug, the goosebumps that littered your bare arms from the cool night breeze. The redness under your eyes, the tears that welled in them, the faint smudge of lipstick that you had missed in the bathroom. He saw all of those things, and he hated that he was the one to make you that angry. To make you so upset. He wasn’t good with love, not real love anyway. All he wanted was to be closer to you, to spend more time with you, to make you get that sparkle in your eye every time he misbehaved in class. And he fucked that up. He fucked it up and he didn’t know how to say sorry. So he didn’t.

Gojo regards you for a long moment, and you can see the wavering in his eyes like the sky bending before a storm. Such a brilliant blue. And you see the clench in his jaw, and how he fishes around in his pocket for his keys, and how he brings them out to unlock his car.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” that’s all he says. That’s the last thing he says. He unlocks the car and you get in, still fuming. The drive is silent and tense. When you leave, you open the back doors, gathering in your arms as many of the bags you could possibly carry (and coming from a only one trip taking in the groceries house that was quite a few).

“I changed my mind. I’m taking these.” You look at him. Hoping, praying, he’d say anything. Say sorry, say it was a mistake, say he was serious, say he was joking. Anything, you would’ve taken anything. He only regards you with cold disinterest, frozen blue eyes. You scoff, slamming the door shut, arms filled to the brim with bags, boxes stacked up to your head. You curse him under your breath the whole way up the stairs. More than a few straggling students gawk at you. A number of them stumbling out of your path or leaping to open doors. By the time you make it into your dorm room your arms are shaking, the bags leaving imprints on your arm. You dump them in the corner of your room with little regard. Immediately kicking off your shoes and hopping into bed.

#jjk gojo x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo saturo #jjk reader insert #this has been done on ao3 forever but i am never fucking on tumblr so I haven’t posted it #whatevs

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romanceisdeadbutimnot · 6 months

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"kill them wind kindness" WRONG. Untitled goose game attack 🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿🔪🪿

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romanceisdeadbutimnot · 1 year

Text

The academic urge to say the dumbest shit known to mankind

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romanceisdeadbutimnot · 1 year

Text

I guess I maybe had a couple expectations

💌

(Gojo Satoru x Reader) modern! college! au

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Cursing

Summary:

In which Gojo ropes you into being his fake dance date without your permission, and then promptly falls in love

Link to ao3 pt1

I thought I’d get to them

In the following week, you couldn’t seem to rid yourself of the overgrown cat named Gojo. He plopped his notebook next to you in your 9:15 taking that seat. He excitedly called you over to his table, when you entered the cafeteria. As nearly the whole school turned to look at you, you meekly took the spot between him and Nanami. He found your studying in the library, and took the seat across from you, only to stretch his long legs to rest in your laps. Legs you promptly shoved off, causing him to pout the rest of the hour. The harder you tried to avoid him, the faster he seemed to appear.

Soon the rumor mill started turning. Those who refused to believe that Gojo was actually taking you to the dance had no choice but to accept that atleast one of the stories was true. Then the rumors you were dating began. They were only egged on when Gojo stole your coat from your chair, forcing you to wear his own, which he conviently left, or freeze. You half had in mind to get hypothermia, but after one gust of wind, you promptly went back into the classroom to grab the heavy long wool coat. It smelled heavily of his cologne and was warm enough that your cheeks remained red the rest of the day.

“So are you and Gojo dating?” Anne asks.

“No,” You flatly respond.

“Really?” Aliyah asks, giving you a pointed look. “You say he isn’t taking you to the dance, but everyone saw him carry you across campus, and you say you aren’t dating even though he’s following you around campus like a lost puppy and you’re wearing his coat.”

You look at the offending garment as if it’s betrayed you. Of course it had. It was Gojo’s.

“Well, I’m not. He’s just being annoying,” you tell her pointedly.

“You’d tell us if you were dating him. Right?” Anne asks and you nod. Of course you would, but you’d never date Gojo -not really atleast. You were his current fleeting obsession, and you were hellbent on not giving him the satisfaction of caving in. No matter how tempting it was.

That Friday as you were studying for an upcoming exam when someone knocked on the door to your room.

“Coming,” you yell, setting your notes onto the bed beside you and walking toward the door. To your surprise (although given his attitude recently you shouldn’t be surprised) it was Gojo who was leaning over your door.

“Hey baby,” he grins widely, barging through your door with little regard toward your protests.

“Don’t hey baby me Gojo.” You snip back at him, eyeing the rather large bag he was holding in his hand, and the very expensive looking suit he was wearing.

“What?!” He looks at you in mock pain. “You are my date for tonight after all, and I tried so hard to pick out a dress you’d like.” He drops the bag in your hand. So that’s what was up his sleeve. You drop the bag onto the floor with little regard for the probably very expensive garment.

“I don’t recall ever accepting an invitation.” You roll your eyes, going back to your discarded notes.

“You invited yourself,” he shrugs, making himself at home on one of your chairs. With dawning horror you begin to remember what exactly he was talking about. The banquet. The banquet you said you were going to to save Gojo from looking so pathetic under his mothers unrelenting stare.

“No! No no no,” you turn to the madman wide eyed.

“Oh yes!” He grins, uncrossing his legs and standing. He scoops the bag from the floor, and pulls a gorgeous gold silk dress from the bag. He corners your with it, backing you into your bed.

“No, Gojo! You knew I was bluffing.” Your stomach drops to your chest.

“But my mom is just so thrilled to see you again!” You look between Gojo, the gold dress now in your trembling hands, and the gold pocket square he had placed in his sleek black suit. You take a deep breath. Then two. This was your mess, and once you got out of it you could say goodbye to Gojo, his stupid antics, and the way your heart fluttered everytime he appeared.

“Okay. Okay, fine. I’ll go with you, but this is the last thing! No other banquets or family gatherings or picnics.” You give him a stern look, trying to solidify your intentions, more for yourself than for him.

“This and the spring dance.” Gojo clarifies for you, giving you no space, no room to breathe.

“Again, you’re not serious about bringing me to the dance.” You search his eyes, the damned sunglasses making it more difficult than it should. You could barely make out the iris.

“Aren’t I?” He steps closer, close enough that he is pressing into you.

“No,” You say with confidence.

“Aren’t I?” He repeats himself, leaning forward, close enough that you could smell mint on his breath.

“No?” You sounded unsure. You were unsure. Your composure was breaking.

“Hmm?”

“Fine I’ll go!” Your composure breaks. You wince, almost expecting him to burst out laughing, finally revealing the elaborate prank to you. He doesn’t. Instead he backs up, turning away from your nerve wracked form.

“You better hurry and get ready, the banquet started 15 minutes ago,” He tells you, checking his watch.

“Oh my god.” Your heart rate spikes. “You better not turn around,” you yell to him, already pulling your shirt over your head.

“What was that?” He turns around, making complete eye contact with you, before his eyes wander down. You throw your shirt at his face, and he turns back around laughing. Breathing ragged and cheeks tinted pink you finish throwing the expensive gown over your head, not even questioning how he got the size perfectly. You run to your mirror, as fast as you can to check your makeup, or rather the remnants of the day. ‘Fuck it’ you murmur grabbing your whole makeup bag, wallet and keys, and headed toward the door. Gojo just whistles, taking his sweet time. You complain loudly about how late you already were. He ignores you, leisurely walking down the flights of stairs to the front lobby.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” He finally asks.

“What?” You turn to him, double checking your belongings. Phone, check. Wallet, check. Keys, check. Makeup bag, check. Dress, check. You look to Gojo in annoyance and confusion. He points down. You look down to your bare feet.

Your bare feet.

You forgot to slip on shoes.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner!” You shove the items in your hands into Gojo’s preparing to run back up the stairs to your room. Gojo snickers, drawing the full attention of the other students lounging in the lobby. As if they weren’t staring and whispering before.

“I have heels for you in the car. Couldn’t have my girlfriend wearing scuffed Gucci. Got you new heels babe!” You couldn’t decide if you were thankful, or going to throttle him.

“Bring me to your fucking car.” You hiss, grabbing your phone back from him.

He does just that, more quiet than usual. You see why, when you reach his car, the whole backseat was filled with pristine bags and boxes. Sitting in the passenger side was an opened box, with a Hermes handbag sitting in the broad daylight. It doesn’t click to you right away that these are for you. In fact you gingerly, afraid to stain the leather with your peasant hands, place the bag back into its box, and carefully place it into the backseat before you sit down. Gojo has gotten into the driver's seat beside you. You vaguely see him watching you, from the corner of your vision, as you pray to all gods not to somehow ruin the expensive bag in front of you. It’s only when you turn to him, that you notice he’s taken his sunglasses completely off and his brilliant blue eyes are scanning your form with growing confusion.

“What?” Is all you can say, grabbing your items from his hands.

“Did you not like it?” He asks, in a stasis. You’re very aware that every moment you waste is another moment late for whatever banquet you signed yourself up for -and you just knew his mom would have something to say about it.

“What the bag? It’s lovely. I’m sure she’s a lucky girl. Now can you drive! We’re late,” You pull down the sun block, opening the mirror and pulling mascara from your bag. You begin applying the black liquid to your eyes, then when you realize Gojo hasn’t started the car you turn back to him expectantly. He just stares back at you, brilliant blue. Until your cheeks are so warm you have to cut the silence.

“Well?” You ask, hoping the blush on your cheeks isn’t as noticeable as it feels.

“It’s for you. All of it,” your gaze follows his own, as you take a second look into the backseat. It was full of Gucci, Hermes, Louis Vuitton, Versace and brands you didn’t recognize. The pit in the bottom of your stomach was starting to reform.

“Pardon?” You ask, not sure you didn’t just hallucinate what you had heard.

“It’s yours, I got it for you.” He says, as if it wasn’t a big deal. As if there wasn’t half a million dollars in designer wear sitting in his backseat.

“I…um… thank you? But Gojo, I can't possibly accept all of that.” Now you were sure the flames in your cheeks were noticeable. A part of you was screaming hell yes. But the other half was nervous, worried, and guilty. These things cost a fortune, and you weren’t quite sure you deserved them. Instead of answering you, he reaches into the back, grabbing a couple boxes, throwing them into your lap. Heels tumble from boxes and golden jewelry slips from bags as he tosses you items with little regard for thier worth. You weren’t sure if they really meant that little to him, or it was in effort to make them seem more appealing to you. Like you weren’t a huge divot in his family's bank account. Were you? You knew they were rich, but you weren’t sure you quite grasped how insanely rich that was before.

“Well, at least use these. You can’t look inexpensive for the banquet, that’d tarnish my image.” Gojo starts the car, placing the glasses back on his head.

You weren’t sure what it was, but the tension was somehow thicker than normal, and it wasn’t the sexual kind. Eventually he did convince you to don the gold jewelry, and put your keys and wallet into the Hermes bag, and wear the designer heels. He even convinced you to wear the expensive lipstick he bought, and placed it in your bag for you with a sly wink. ‘For touch ups’ he had said. Sure, by all means place the $300 lipstick in the bag, as if you hadn’t lost every tube of chapstick you’d ever owned. You were afraid of his backseat at this point. If this is what came out of three of the boxes and bags you were positive you couldn’t possibly accept any more of his donations. You’d never get over him if you did.

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romanceisdeadbutimnot · 1 year

Text

I guess I maybe had a couple expectations

💌

(Gojo Satoru x Reader) modern! college! au

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Cursing

Summary:

In which Gojo ropes you into being his fake dance date without your permission, and then promptly falls in love

Link to ao3 pt1

I thought I’d get to them

“So are you and Gojo dating?” Anne asks.

“No,” You flatly respond.

You look at the offending garment as if it’s betrayed you. Of course it had. It was Gojo’s.

“Well, I’m not. He’s just being annoying,” you tell her pointedly.

That Friday as you were studying for an upcoming exam when someone knocked on the door to your room.

“Hey baby,” he grins widely, barging through your door with little regard toward your protests.

“Don’t hey baby me Gojo.” You snip back at him, eyeing the rather large bag he was holding in his hand, and the very expensive looking suit he was wearing.

“I don’t recall ever accepting an invitation.” You roll your eyes, going back to your discarded notes.

“No! No no no,” you turn to the madman wide eyed.

“Oh yes!” He grins, uncrossing his legs and standing. He scoops the bag from the floor, and pulls a gorgeous gold silk dress from the bag. He corners your with it, backing you into your bed.

“No, Gojo! You knew I was bluffing.” Your stomach drops to your chest.

“This and the spring dance.” Gojo clarifies for you, giving you no space, no room to breathe.

“Again, you’re not serious about bringing me to the dance.” You search his eyes, the damned sunglasses making it more difficult than it should. You could barely make out the iris.

“Aren’t I?” He steps closer, close enough that he is pressing into you.

“No,” You say with confidence.

“Aren’t I?” He repeats himself, leaning forward, close enough that you could smell mint on his breath.

“No?” You sounded unsure. You were unsure. Your composure was breaking.

“Hmm?”

“You better hurry and get ready, the banquet started 15 minutes ago,” He tells you, checking his watch.

“Oh my god.” Your heart rate spikes. “You better not turn around,” you yell to him, already pulling your shirt over your head.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” He finally asks.

Your bare feet.

You forgot to slip on shoes.

“I have heels for you in the car. Couldn’t have my girlfriend wearing scuffed Gucci. Got you new heels babe!” You couldn’t decide if you were thankful, or going to throttle him.

“Bring me to your fucking car.” You hiss, grabbing your phone back from him.

“What?” Is all you can say, grabbing your items from his hands.

“Well?” You ask, hoping the blush on your cheeks isn’t as noticeable as it feels.

“Pardon?” You ask, not sure you didn’t just hallucinate what you had heard.

“It’s yours, I got it for you.” He says, as if it wasn’t a big deal. As if there wasn’t half a million dollars in designer wear sitting in his backseat.

“Well, at least use these. You can’t look inexpensive for the banquet, that’d tarnish my image.” Gojo starts the car, placing the glasses back on his head.

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romanceisdeadbutimnot · 1 year

Text

I painted these fanart with the same concept. I am very happy to finally be able to post them side by side.

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romanceisdeadbutimnot · 1 year

Text

Pensive

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romanceisdeadbutimnot · 1 year

Text

I guess I maybe had a couple expectations

💌

(Gojo Satoru x Reader) modern! college! au

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Cursing

Summary:

In which Gojo ropes you into being his fake dance date without your permission, and then promptly falls in love

Link to ao3 pt1

2- I thought I’d get to them

“So are you and Gojo dating?” Anne asks.

“No,” You flatly respond.

You look at the offending garment as if it’s betrayed you. Of course it had. It was Gojo’s.

“Well, I’m not. He’s just being annoying,” you tell her pointedly.

That Friday as you were studying for an upcoming exam when someone knocked on the door to your room.

“Hey baby,” he grins widely, barging through your door with little regard toward your protests.

“Don’t hey baby me Gojo.” You snip back at him, eyeing the rather large bag he was holding in his hand, and the very expensive looking suit he was wearing.

“I don’t recall ever accepting an invitation.” You roll your eyes, going back to your discarded notes.

“No! No no no,” you turn to the madman wide eyed.

“Oh yes!” He grins, uncrossing his legs and standing. He scoops the bag from the floor, and pulls a gorgeous gold silk dress from the bag. He corners your with it, backing you into your bed.

“No, Gojo! You knew I was bluffing.” Your stomach drops to your chest.

“This and the spring dance.” Gojo clarifies for you, giving you no space, no room to breathe.

“Again, you’re not serious about bringing me to the dance.” You search his eyes, the damned sunglasses making it more difficult than it should. You could barely make out the iris.

“Aren’t I?” He steps closer, close enough that he is pressing into you.

“No,” You say with confidence.

“Aren’t I?” He repeats himself, leaning forward, close enough that you could smell mint on his breath.

“No?” You sounded unsure. You were unsure. Your composure was breaking.

“Hmm?”

“You better hurry and get ready, the banquet started 15 minutes ago,�� He tells you, checking his watch.

“Oh my god.” Your heart rate spikes. “You better not turn around,” you yell to him, already pulling your shirt over your head.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” He finally asks.

Your bare feet.

You forgot to slip on shoes.

“I have heels for you in the car. Couldn’t have my girlfriend wearing scuffed Gucci. Got you new heels babe!” You couldn’t decide if you were thankful, or going to throttle him.

“Bring me to your fucking car.” You hiss, grabbing your phone back from him.

“What?” Is all you can say, grabbing your items from his hands.

“Well?” You ask, hoping the blush on your cheeks isn’t as noticeable as it feels.

“Pardon?” You ask, not sure you didn’t just hallucinate what you had heard.

“It’s yours, I got it for you.” He says, as if it wasn’t a big deal. As if there wasn’t half a million dollars in designer wear sitting in his backseat.

“Well, at least use these. You can’t look inexpensive for the banquet, that’d tarnish my image.” Gojo starts the car, placing the glasses back on his head.

#gojou satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo saturo #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo x reader

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