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The soft glow from the streets bathed Satoru’s bedroom in a blue-ish light that seeped through the curtains to cast delicate, dancing shadows across the walls. He lays barely awake in his king-sized bed, his eyes uncovered from his usual donned clothes, and tracing the interplay of light on Kento’s face. The flickering shadows from the gently falling snow highlighted the silhouette of his lover's peaceful form.
The light held them suspended in a moment of peace, and Satoru cherished the sight of Kento's relaxed features, the way the light accentuated the gentle curve of his lips, and the soft flutter of his eyelids; like a kitten twitching in its dreams.
Beneath the heavy duvet their bodies were closely intertwined, sharing a cocoon of warmth. Kento’s natural heat radiated like a furnace, perfectly balancing Satoru’s typically cool skin, and it made their shared time in bed especially comfortable during the harsh January winter weather.
Satoru shifted his legs, slotting them between Kento’s calves and thighs, relishing the pleasant scratch of hair against his boyfriend’s sleep-warmed skin. He nuzzled closer, his cool fingertips tracing idle patterns on Kento’s chest, feeling the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing.
Satoru’s restless mind found peace in these moments, where words were unnecessary, and presence was everything.
His body hummed with a pleasant exhaustion. The faint throb in his muscles similar to the raw intensity found in teens discovering the heights of orgasmic pleasure for the very first time. It was a sweet kind of ache though, delicious in its weight and one that lingered in his limbs and made every movement and muscle feel heavy and slow; grounded yet buoyant, as if he were floating.
Despite this weight pulling at his eyelids, all of his strength went towards keeping his gaze fixed on the faint marks adorning Kento’s neck and shoulders, just for a little while longer. With feather-light fingertips, he traced the red, black and blue indentations left by his teeth, vivid and stark against the pale canvas of Kento's freckled skin.
He recalled their earlier intimacy, letting it dance across his eyes like a movie—the feel of Kento's flushed skin beneath his open hands, warm and inviting, and the quickening of Kento's breath with each thrust of his hips. The way his soft, urgent moans had whined for more, and how his arched back had been slick with sweat. Satoru's mouth had been everywhere, ravenous and eager to taste, and his omega had eagerly spread his deliciously defined muscular legs and hooked them around Satoru's shoulders, demanding his alpha to quench his thirst right from the source.
Satoru could still feel the echo of Kento’s body against his own, and despite their frequent intimacy, the intensity of their connection had always left Satoru breathless.
Later on, when they both were spent and out of breath, the love in Kento’s gaze had been palpable, a shimmering depth that made the hazel of his eyes glow, like liquid gold. The way Kento’s hands had cradled his face, held his lips to his forehead whilst his thumbs gently brushed against his cheekbones. There was a reverence in that touch, so much love, and adoration that it made Satoru’s heart flutter. Kento always had a way of making him feel like he was the very center of the universe.
He replayed the memory of their kisses. The gentle curve of Kento's lips, the lingering warmth of his breath, the soft pressure of their mouths meeting and parting in a rhythm that felt both new and achingly familiar. Those lips were so capable of firm commands in the outside world, but here against Satoru’s own, they were infinitely gentle.
He allowed his Six Eyes to fully take in Kento’s physical beauty. His lover's features were a study in contrasts: strong yet gentle, with a clear, defined jawline and lips still slick and inviting from their earlier kisses. The faint stubble on his chin added a rugged charm against the softness of his skin, and even in sleep, Kento exuded a quiet strength.
There was a serenity to him, a sense of unshakable calm that permeated whatever space he occupied. Satoru’s six eyes could see the gentle ebb and flow of Kento's cursed energy, a steady pulse that mirrored the beat of his heart, strong and unyielding.
And in that pulse he felt the lingering song of their bond, thumping like a distant drum, a constant, reassuring rhythm that synchronized with each of their pulse points.
Satoru’s gaze softened as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Kento’s forehead. Kento stirred slightly, a soft murmur escaping his lips, but he did not wake. Satoru smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace.
In the quiet, Satoru's hand found its place gently resting on Kento's rounded belly, feeling the subtle, restless movements of their unborn child. A soft laugh escaped his lips as he traced small, soothing circles across Kento’s lower stomach.
"Way too late for you to be up, little one," Satoru whispered, stifling a chuckle as a persistent nudge met his words. "Mamamin is very ’eepy, so try to take it easy on him, hm?”
Kento softened even further in his sleep, his hand unconsciously seeking out and finding Satoru’s on his belly.
It was almost unreal how they’d made it here, together and expecting. Satoru knew their lives together hadn't been easy, and the road ahead promised nothing but more challenges. The world they navigated was morally twisted, and their responsibilities were immense. Yet, in moments like this, beneath lavender-scented sheets and the comforting scent of belonging, with the starlit sky overhead and love thrumming through every cell in his body, those worries felt distant, almost irrelevant. The small kicks and presses of tiny hands and feet eager to meet the world overshadowed all else.
With Kento by his side, feeling the steady beat of his heart and the movements of their unborn child, Satoru felt truly invincible. He felt he could face anything - clans and politics and curses and warped morality and all the hatred that he harbored.
Satoru closed his eyes, willing his senses to find the same calm his body possessed. He knew the alarm would soon pierce the quiet, calling him to wakefulness and honor bound obligations. Desperately, he sought to capture as much time as possible with his omega. Every second was precious, and the thought of leaving his mate each morning was nothing short of pure agony.
He tightened his hold on Kento as if by doing so he could somehow slow the passage of time, and he pressed his face into the crook of Kento’s neck, inhaling deeply. The familiar scent of his omega, a blend of belonging and something uniquely Kento, eventually lulled him to a comfortable calm.
He felt his lover shifting slightly, legs straightening and breath fanning across his cheeks. The movement was gentle, a sleepy adjustment that brought their bodies even closer. Satoru smiled softly, savoring the warmth.
A soft, pleading whisper escaped Kento's lips, pulling Satoru from the brink of sleep. "Strawbr'y… shorcake.…” The words were barely audible and carried on a sigh that brushed against Satoru’s skin.
Satoru's eyes fluttered open, a bemused smile naturally tugging at his lips. Propping himself up on one elbow, he gazed down at his partner with tender amusement. Kento's hand rested protectively on his rounded belly, brows slightly creased and lips twitching as if already savoring the treat.
Instincts deeply ingrained in his very soul surged with the desire to provide for his omega, especially when Kento's requests were so rare. The primal urge to care for and nurture his mate intensified whenever Kento expressed a need, no matter how small, and now his cravings requested to be fed a sweet delectable treat.
And if Satoru took particular glee in the fact that Kento, who usually despised sweets, was now yearning for strawberry shortcake, one of which happened to be Satoru's favorite, well, Kento wouldn’t know it.
Yet.
The irony was too delicious to resist bullying his lover when he eventually woke up.
Unable to stop the urge, Satoru leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Kento’s temple, savoring the touch and warm scent of comfort. “Coming right up.”
Though it was nearly gut-wrenching to leave his side, Satoru couldn't imagine a universe where he wouldn't embark on a journey to the ends of the earth to satisfy his omega's pregnancy cravings.
Carefully, he extricated himself from the warmth of the bed, the chill of the early morning air making him shiver. He moved with quiet precision, sidestepping discarded clothes and ungraded papers littering the floors. He reached for warmer clothes to fend off the cold and turned off his phone alarm before sliding it into his pocket. Pausing, he glanced back at Kento whose features remained relaxed as he slept, blissfully unaware.
Satoru slipped out of the apartment, the cold air bit sharply at his skin, invigorating and crisp. He paused on the threshold, taking a deep breath of the frosty air, letting it fill his lungs and awaken his senses. The world outside was quiet, wrapped in the stillness that only early morning could bring. The snow-covered streets glistened under the pale colors of neon windows and street lights.
Pulling his coat tighter around himself, he watched his breath form clouds in the icy air.
The silence of the morning was punctuated only by the crunch of snow under his boots as he started to walk. The streets were mostly empty, the city still in its slumber, allowing Satoru a rare moment of solitude.
He paused briefly and took note of a familiar dog venturing toward the house gate he always passed. The dog was a fluffy ball of fur and trotted toward him, eager for the affection it had come to expect by every passerby. A smile spread across Satoru's face and he quickened his pace. He bent down over the gate, his hand reaching out to pet the dog. The dog's tail wagged furiously, its entire body vibrating with excitement.
"Hey there, buddy," Satoru murmured, his voice gentle.
After a few more affectionate pats, he stood up, giving the dog one last scratch behind the ears before continuing down the road.
The snow continued to crunch under his boots, sharp and satisfying. The convenience store was just a short walk away, and in the stillness, Gojo let his mind wander.
His thoughts drifted to the apartments they would be viewing later that week. The idea of a shared space they both owned together was one of many puzzle pieces falling into place. The constant question of ‘yours or mine?' would finally be replaced with the comforting certainty of 'ours.' It was a long-awaited finality that Gojo felt had been missing in their relationship, more so now when they were finally bonded.
So far, neither of them had truly been able to bask in their bond like a claimed Alpha and Omega should. Their separate apartments were an unnecessary obstacle, a waste of resources that only served to keep them apart.
The fleeting sense of completeness that came from being surrounded by the other’s scent was bittersweet, a tantalizing tease of what could be. The scent of Kento on his pillow, the lingering fragrance of him in the air, was comforting but terribly temporary and it left Satoru yearning for more—a permanent solution where his soul didn’t feel cleaved in two every time they parted ways.
Kento felt the same longing, though he expressed it differently. His practical nature often masked the depth of his emotions, but Satoru could see through the facade; more so when they were alone, where his lover didn’t even try to put it on anymore. Kento’s subtle gestures—the way he lingered a little longer in Satoru’s embrace, the contented sighs when they were close—spoke volumes.
Satoru longed for the day when their home would carry the combined essence of their being—a unique blend that would define their space as wholly theirs.
He imagined the possibilities a shared home would bring them—each room a blank canvas waiting to be painted with their memories. He could see it so clearly: the cozy living room where they would spend lazy evenings cuddled up on the couch, watching Satoru’s various TV dramas that Kento pretended to not be invested in. The kitchen where they would cook meals together, laughter and conversation filling the space, and the nursery that would soon hold their newborn baby.
He envisioned Kento’s touch in every corner, and the blend of him and Satoru together.
The thought of coming home to Kento every day, their lives intertwining more completely, felt almost surreal in its proximity. The reality of it was so enticingly close, like a mirage shimmering just beyond reach, tantalizingly within sight but not yet graspable.
It would be a place for their firstborn to grow in, and for them to look back on as they become an adult.
They would remember the soothing sway of their bed, enveloped in a blanket of cotton smelling of Kento and Satoru themselves and a mix of their favorite fabric softener.
They would remember the flooring patterns as they learned how to crawl, the intricate designs becoming a familiar landscape for tiny hands and knees, and each gentle creak of the wood beneath them a sound that accompanied their journey from tentative movements to confident exploration.
As their child grew stronger, those same floors would bear witness to their very first steps. They would grasp at the edges of well-loved furniture, finding support on tiny, wobbly legs. Satoru could see it so clearly: the determined expression on their child’s face, the way they would pull themselves up, teetering but resilient, finding their balance in a world that was becoming increasingly navigable.
Kento would be there, his steady presence a source of strength and unwavering encouragement. Already, Kento was a wonderful parent, reading to his belly every night, his deep voice weaving stories full of adventure and wonder.
Occasionally, upon Satoru’s request and much to his own begrudging amusement, Kento would hum softly to lullabies that his mother sang to him and his siblings. The Scandinavian words spoke of kind trolls and river gods, ancient tales imbued with magic and full of history. His gentle voice would guide sleep to the restless soul nestled in his belly, and Satoru would listen intently, entirely captivated by the nuances of the Danish language.
He could imagine the laughter and the echoes of happiness that would resonate through the walls of their home. He imagined birthday parties and holiday celebrations, painted pictures and family photographs adorning the fridge, and held up by colorful magnets.
Their baby would recall the feel of Kento’s strong arms lifting them high, making them feel invincible and on top of the world. And in quiet corners, they would find solace in stories read under the fortress of pillows and blankets, with the scent of freshly made bread and cookies lingering in the air.
But it would be the simple, everyday moments they’d remember most—the presence of Kento and Satoru, and the love that filled every little corner of their home.
Finding a place for his family, for his omega and firstborn child, Satoru understood the importance of turning a house into a home to remember. Ever since the announced pregnancy, Satoru and Kento had been determined to find the perfect place to live .
Where would their child thrive the most? What environment would nurture their growth and happiness?
For Kento that had been the sea. The peaceful sound of the waves, the scent and taste of saltwater, and the feel of sand beneath his feet had been the environment he grew up in, grounding him in its steady, unchanging presence. The rhythmic ebb and flow of the tides is a constant source of serenity. Now, as an adult, those waves were calling him back, urging him to return to his roots and build his family near his first home.
Satoru, on the other hand, thrived on the energy of the city; the constant hum of life, the bustling streets, the myriad of lights, and the ever-present pulse of activity. The city was a dynamic, ever-changing landscape that offered endless opportunities, and Satoru loved the diversity, the cultural richness, and the vibrancy of urban life. He found inspiration in the chaos, a sense of purpose in the ceaseless motion of the city.
Yet, beneath his outward enthusiasm for city life, Satoru felt the immense weight of his born purpose as the sorcerer who shifted the balance of the universe. In a city engulfed in curses, his blood and flesh were bred to forever fight and keep fighting the endless sea of evil lurking in the hidden corners of the world. It was a fate he scorned, thrust upon him by a world indifferent to his personal terrors.
The relentless battle against malevolence left him weary, a bitterness seeping into his thoughts whenever he considered the ceaseless struggle that defined his very existence.
He wanted to honor Kento’s desire to return to his roots, to build a life near the ocean where their child could experience the peace and beauty of coastal living. But he struggled with the knowledge that his duty as a sorcerer would always tie him to the city, whether he liked it or not.
He let out a deep and frustrated sigh. It wasn’t even a little bit of a secret that his disdain for this current world extended to the higher-ups who, despite his many various threats, continued exploiting his students and sending them into the fray before they were ready. It infuriated him to see his young, inexperienced sorcerers thrown into a bloodbath, their potential snuffed out by the callousness of those geezers in power.
"They are not tools for your war," he would argue vehemently, his voice laced and dripping with anger, frustration heavy in his chest. "They are children, not pawns to be sacrificed.” His words, though powerful, often fell on deaf ears, the higher-ups were too entrenched in their ways to see the value in nurturing and protecting the next generation of sorcerers.
Despite his contempt for this system, Satoru could not imagine leaving the city if it meant leaving those who truly relied on him. The bond he shared with his students had become similar to a surrogate family, and their growth and well-being were responsibilities he simply could not abandon. He knew all too well the dangers they faced and harbored a deep mistrust for the order that governed their world.
They had been silent when Riko-chan was assassinated and had not even batted an eye when Satoru himself was slaughtered inside Tengen’s barrier by a ruthless mercenary for hire.
They had been the reason for Haibara's death.
They had forced Satoru's hands into killing his best friend.
They were responsible for so much pain, so much loss, and yet they remained unmoved, their decisions driven by cold logic and self-preservation.
If Satoru left, who would protect the kids from the fate he despised? His presence was a shield, a promise of safety in a world teeming with threats. He was their guardian, their mentor, and he could not bear the thought of abandoning them to the mercy of a world that had shown itself to be unkind and unforgiving.
Yet, envisioning a life in the quiet peace of a village by the sea wasn’t difficult.
For the strongest sorcerer, the choice was simple. If his omega wished to wake up to the call of cicadas and the salty breeze of the ocean, then no deity could deter him from making that desire a reality.
The plan was straightforward: kidnap the kids, and maybe Shoko as well. Though he doubted she’d come willingly unless he could promise a steady supply of cigarettes and those disgustingly bitter drinks she and Kento enjoyed together.
Though on second thought maybe not. She was not a stickler for rules and likewise wasn’t known to be overly fond of the higher-ups, but in the end, her loyalty was to those in need of her service as a doctor, and Satoru doubted she’d come with him if he ever decided to go rogue.
They had their history and sure, trauma did bond people, but responsibility was a hard thing to shake. She would stay, he realized, because her place was here, among those who needed her most.
As for his students, Satoru could already see their reactions. Yuji, Toge, and Panda would be excited by the adventure, Nobara and Maki would probably complain about the lack of shopping options but secretly enjoy the change of pace, and Megumi would roll his eyes but follow nonetheless, his loyalty unwavering to his peers.
Though Yuuta was still in Africa on training, there was no doubt that he’d be following the group if he could.
They were a tight-knit patchwork family of sorts, and they were all a quirky, lovable bunch. Satoru couldn’t be more proud of them.
————§————
The convenience store’s bright lights were a welcome sight on the cold night, casting a warm glow that cut through the chill. The signature ding, as he walked in woke the lone worker dozing at the cash register. Startled, the worker blinked and sat up, offering a sleepy nod of acknowledgment.
Satoru strolled in with a cheerful bounce, heading straight to the dessert aisle. The shelves were lined with an assortment of sweets, and he quickly found the single-serving strawberry shortcakes in neat plastic containers. He picked out two and then hesitated before grabbing a third. Kento’s cravings had been unpredictable lately, and Satoru reasoned it was better to be prepared.
At the counter, the teenage cashier, bleary-eyed and yawning, looked up as Satoru approached. Despite the hour, Satoru flashed him a bright smile. “Good morning! Or is it still night? Time’s a bit fuzzy right now,”.
The cashier blinked, no doubt surprised by this energetic man shopping for cake at 4 a.m. “Morning, I guess,” he replied, a shy smile tugging at his lips.
Satoru placed the desserts on the counter. “Just these for my pregnant partner. Cravings, you know how it is!” he said, winking conspiratorially.
The cashier nodded, his tentative smile still present as he began ringing up the items. “Must be some strong cravings.”
“Oh, you have no idea! Thanks for being open, you’re a lifesaver.”
As he counted the yen, Satoru continued his cheerful chat before leaving with a signature three-finger peace sign. “Keep the change! And have an amazing day… or night!” he called out as he left, waving cheerfully.
Stepping into the brisk night, Satoru felt the cold bite at his fingers and he quickly shoved them into his coat pockets, his bags of goods hanging by his wrist and swinging along as he walked. The cold pulled him back to the cozy warmth of his bed, and he smiled at the thought of slipping under the covers, imagining running his icy fingers up Kento’s spine and making him squirm awake.
He could almost hear Kento’s half-hearted protests, the sleepy groan followed by a playful swat as he tried to evade the cold. Satoru’s chuckle formed visible clouds in the frosty air.
His mind drifted further to the early morning classes. Maybe he’d surprise Kento with a lunch date tomorrow? They were both going to be at the school for a meeting regarding the future school exchange event, so it wouldn’t be weird if Satoru bullied Kento to accompany him to lunch. Of course, Kento would probably insist on including Shoko, Utahime, and anyone else attending from Kyoto. Ever the gentleman.
It was unfair really; Satoru wanted to court Kento properly and take him to all of his favorite places to eat, only to be thwarted by Kento himself and his insistence on their relationship being kept private.
Satoru bristled, kicking at the snow with childish frustration.
Besides Shoko, their relationship was still unknown to the world of jujutsu. This wasn’t because they necessarily wanted it hidden, rather it was a necessity they both agreed on at the time.
That is to say that despite it being a mutual decision, it strained Satoru's ability to keep their bond under wraps. He wanted nothing more than to proudly proclaim his love for Kento to the world, to show everyone the person who brought so much joy to his life.
It was a wonder no one else hadn’t figured it out yet, considering how often he did slip up, mentioning Kento’s name with a softness that was unmistakable to those who knew him well.
The only one who knew of them was Shoko of course.
What started as a routine medical checkup for Kento after a mission swiftly turned into a dramatic revelation. In a single moment, one of his closest friends discovered not only their secret relationship but also the unexpected pregnancy.
It was a very stressful day, to say the least, and Satoru remembers it vividly. Kento had been exhausted from their joint mission, and Shoko had insisted on a thorough checkup after Satoru expressed his concerns about Kento's sudden loss of appetite and unexpected bouts of nausea.
Hindsight is 20/20, and it was clear that Shoko, with her keen eye and medical expertise, would notice the signs of pregnancy. Her shock was evident, matched only by the stunned looks on Satoru and Kento's faces.
She took it like a champ though, and once the initial shock wore off, she had embraced the news with her characteristic blend of pragmatism and warmth. She had always been their steadfast friend, reliable and understanding, so it was a no-brainer that she volunteered to be Kento’s designated midwife and doctor during his pregnancy once they’d both agreed to continue with it.
Her support had been invaluable, providing not only routine medical care but emotional reassurance. She monitored Kento’s health meticulously, ensuring that both he and the baby were in good health.
However she didn’t hold back from making suggestions and hints for them to come out to the public. She understood the complexities of their situation but she was of the strong belief that their love didn’t deserve to be hidden away, especially with a child on the way. She was also adamant in that the people closest to them deserved to know too.
“People will understand,” she would say. “They care about you both, and they really don’t need the trauma of stumbling upon you two making out in the teacher lounge.”
Satoru believed her, but it had been his suggestion to keep things quiet for a reason. His family’s demands would erupt once their bond was revealed, a cacophony of outrage and objection that he was in no hurry to face. The longer he could avoid his dysfunctional family, the better.
The Gojo clan, with its rigid traditions and expectations, would not take kindly to the news of their heir’s relationship with someone outside their exalted circle. The various other clan heads and self-appointed important figures who felt entitled to every aspect of his life would undoubtedly lose it once they learned about them.
The sole heir of the Gojo clan bonded with someone from a no-sorcerer family, tainted by his mixed heritage. It was a scandal waiting to happen, a direct challenge to the status quo that the elite sorcerer families upheld with fervent zeal. Satoru knew that his choice would be seen as a betrayal, a deviation from the path laid out for him since birth. The backlash would be swift and merciless, a storm of condemnation that he preferred to delay as long as possible.
Kento knew Satoru’s upbringing had been anything but ideal, but Satoru hadn’t wanted to divulge too much of it. If he could, he’d avoid that particular conversation as well. The memories were painful, a series of wounds that had never fully healed even now.
To say his relationship with his family was strained would be a gross understatement.
The Gojo clan, with its rigid hierarchy and demanding expectations, had shaped Satoru’s early years into a series of trials and tribulations. Growing up in one of the many clan estates in Kyoto, the power and prestige of the Gojo clan had never brought comfort, a truth Satoru learned early on.
The sprawling estate, with its meticulously maintained gardens and imposing traditional architecture, was a place of cold grandeur. To an outsider, it might have seemed like a paradise of luxury and privilege, but to Satoru, it was nothing more than a gilded cage. The halls were filled with whispers of duty and legacy, a forceful and constant reminder of the expectations placed upon him as the clan’s heir. Every decision, every action, was scrutinized, and judged by the strict standards of his family.
His childhood had been a study in solitude, marked by isolation and relentless training. From a young age, he was groomed to become the strongest sorcerer, the protector of the Gojo legacy. The weight of these responsibilities pressed heavily on his young shoulders, leaving little room for the carefree joys of childhood. His every move was calculated, his every failure a stain on the clan’s honor.
He’d been confined within the estate's boundaries, prohibited from leaving without an escort and effectively isolating him from the outside world. This restriction led to little to no real kinship or social interaction before his teenage years at Jujutsu Tech, at which he quickly learned that not only was he socially underdeveloped compared to his peers, but he also found out just how much of the world's wonder he’d gone without.
The few interactions he did have with other clan children his age were marked by a blend of awe or fear, and they dutifully kept their distance by their guardians' orders. He had often longed for genuine companionship, the kind he saw in anime or children’s cartoons. It wouldn’t be until he was 15 years of age to find his first real friendship in Suguru and Shoko, and even now, years later, he still struggles with social cues.
Despite being the clan's heir, Satoru always felt like an outsider within his family. His childhood was a series of lonely days, punctuated by rare, strained encounters with his parents, who seemed more interested in his role than in him as a person, and the elders who trained him.
The elders of the clan were relentless, their expectations bordering on the impossible. They demanded perfection, and any deviation from their ideals was met with harsh reprimands. The warmth and affection that most children took for granted were foreign concepts in the Gojo household, much noticeably by his parents.
His parents, bound by their own duties and obligations, offered little in the way of comfort. As soon as he was weaned, his parents ceased living in the same estate. They would visit during the day for formal duties but never stayed the night, leaving him in the sole company of caretakers and tutors.
Very early on his parents became distant, faceless figures who simply bore the titles of mother and father but lacked the intimacy those roles universally implied. His father's interactions were limited to stern lessons on clan politics and lineage responsibilities, always formal, strained, and devoid of affection. His mother’s presence was rare, always accompanied by servants or his father.
Despite the harshness of his upbringing, Satoru discovered early on that he was different, his abilities far surpassing those of his peers. This power became both a blessing and a curse, setting him apart even further from those around him. He was revered and feared, admired and envied, but never truly understood.
As he grew older, Satoru began to question the values and traditions of his clan. The rigid hierarchy, the blind adherence to outdated ideals—it all felt suffocating. He longed for something more, a life that offered freedom and genuine connection. His encounters with people outside the clan, like Suguru and Shoko, opened his eyes to a different way of living, one that wasn’t bound by the chains of duty and legacy.
One time during winter break, a few months into his first year of school, his mother had paid him a rare visit to his quarters in the estate. He could recall on one hand how many times she’d seen the inside of his room, let alone without his father by her side, and so he’d been surprised to see her lone silhouette stand by the shoji doors to his sleeping chambers.
She’d told him, “Your father and I request that you cease associating with young Geto. He is unworthy of your time and is nothing but a hindrance to your academic progress.” And then she’d left, like she’d never been there and uprooted Satoru's entire life with nothing but two sentences.
This had been the start of Satoru's rebellion; one where he chose to go against absolutely everything he’d been bred to follow without a second thought.
He sought out friendships and connections that transcended the rigid boundaries of his clan. His classmates, teacher, and later his students and colleagues. They all were forged in the crucible of shared experiences, each one a step further away from the cold, isolated existence his clan had intended for him.
He stopped hiding his true self. He allowed his personality to shine through, unfiltered and unapologetic.
And now as an adult on the cusp of fatherhood, Satoru’s own childhood became a blueprint of what to avoid as a parent. Although he certainly had his doubts about his capabilities, he’d vowed to offer the love and warmth that had been so glaringly absent in his own upbringing. He never wanted his child to resent him for his detachment or learn to feel a reluctant apathy toward seeking his approval, affection or protection.
He remembered too well the bounties placed on his head as a child, targeted for being a Gojo, the bearer of the Six Eyes and the clan's most powerful inherited technique in centuries. The weight of his lineage had been a burden from the moment he could understand the words whispered around him.
He didn’t remember the first attempt on his life, but he would always remember being told that fear was something he had to overcome if he wanted to live. It was a harsh lesson for a child, one that forced him to grow up too quickly, to learn the ways of a world that saw him as both a prize and a threat.
He had learned to distrust everyone, to sleep lightly, and always be alert for attackers and unfamiliar cursed energies. The paranoia became second nature, a survival instinct honed through countless encounters with those who sought to exploit or destroy him. The lessons were brutal, but they were necessary. Trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford, and innocence was a state he could never reclaim.
The idea of his child facing similar threats sent chills down his spine. The mere thought of his child being hunted, growing up under constant threat from money-hungry people, was unbearable.
His child might not even have the protection of Limitless or Six Eyes to shield them as he did, And Satoru didn’t know if that was better or worse. How could he protect his baby from a world that had shown him so little mercy?
This fear extended to Kento too. Revealing their relationship would inevitably make Kento a target for those seeking to harm Satoru through him. It was one of the reasons they kept their bond a secret, to protect Kento from becoming a pawn in the dangerous games of sorcerer politics.
Satoru knew all too well the ruthlessness of their world. Enemies would not hesitate to use any means necessary to strike at him, and Kento’s connection to him would make him an obvious target. The idea of his omega facing threats and attacks simply because of their love was unacceptable.
However, Satoru knew they couldn’t hide forever. Kento’s pregnancy was progressing, and soon it would be impossible to conceal their relationship any longer.
Satoru frowned, trying to ease the tension that had built up in his jaw.
The weight of responsibility felt almost comically daunting. Adding to his ever-growing unease was the fact that both he and Kento were still actively battling curses, their roles as first grade and special grade sorcerers indispensable in their understaffed profession. Despite his pregnancy, Kento insisted he was perfectly capable of continuing his work, much to Satoru’s many loud complaints.
While Satoru never doubted his mate’s abilities, it was a constant struggle to respect Kento's decision to keep working. This ongoing argument exasperated him, and the thought of Kento facing danger while carrying their child was a persistent source of anxiety. But Kento remained firm in his decision to work until well into his third trimester when their child would be around six months in development.
Kento hated feeling useless, and his sense of responsibility was unyielding. He took pride in his work, in his ability to make a difference, and the idea of stepping back made him feel like he was abandoning his duties. Satoru understood this, respected it even, but it gnawed at his every instinct that told him to protect his mate. The urge to shield them from any and all harm was overwhelming, a primal drive that conflicted with his need to respect Kento's autonomy.
The arguments were never heated, but they were filled with a palpable tension. Satoru's pleas for caution were met with Kento's resolute refusals. His determination to continue working wasn’t just about pride; it was about maintaining his sense of self, his purpose. He didn’t want to be coddled or seen as fragile just because he was pregnant.
Satoru knew that arguing further was pointless. Kento wasn’t unreasonable, but having known him longer than most, Satoru recognized his deep-seated stubbornness. In truth, Kento could rival Satoru in sheer determination, which made him wonder how their relationship had progressed as it had.
Their history had been tumultuous; rocky at best, and explosive at worst. The years apart following Haibara's death and Geto's departure were fraught with simmering tension, threatening to ignite with their very few interactions. Initially, Satoru struggled to see Kento as anything other than someone to pity, a victim of injustice and the cruel reality of sorcery. Yet, over time, he learned to see him as someone who made the best of the hand he’d been dealt. He watched him battle his own demons and emerge victorious, and Satoru soon realized that Kento's heart was far from being the hollow shell it once had been.
Satoru fell in love with Kento like rain falling on parched earth: a slow, soothing drizzle that gradually turned into a torrential downpour, nourishing his soul in ways he never expected. It was a love that crept up on him, soft and gooey and warm, filling the empty spaces left by years of isolation and pain from his upbringing. The initial attraction was subtle, a quiet admiration that grew stronger with each passing day until it consumed him entirely.
It was sudden and, at the time, entirely unwelcome. He was newly out of school and still nursing wounds left by a boy who had abandoned him for a life of criminality and forced him to bear the mantle of the strongest alone. The betrayal of Geto Suguru had left a gaping hole in Satoru’s heart, one that he believed would never heal.
Kento leaving directly after finishing high school was enough to convince broken hearted Satoru that his crush on the blonde would fade over time. Kento’s departure seemed to reinforce the notion that attachments were brief, that everyone would eventually leave him. Satoru told himself that the feelings he had for him were nothing more than a fleeting infatuation, a distraction from the deeper wounds that still bled beneath the surface.
Yet, almost a decade later, it was almost comical looking back on how enraptured he’d been by the pull of the omega’s charm. The passing years had done little to diminish the strength of his feelings. Instead, they had deepened, transforming from a simple crush into an unavoidable and abiding love. Satoru could now see the irony in it all, how the very thing he had tried to dismiss had become the cornerstone of his happiness.
Kento returned to Jujutsu High at 22 years of age, fit and broad-shouldered, his eyes bloodshot with stress. His hair was neatly parted and cut, and his suit was tailored to perfection, fitting his stature impeccably.
It was inevitable that they would fall into bed together after only a few months of dancing around each other. Although both of them initially—mainly Kento—made conditions for their friends with benefits arrangement, it didn’t take long to realize those rules were being quietly ignored.
What started as a casual agreement quickly evolved into something much deeper.
They frequently stayed the night after sex, their exchange of soft kisses and whispered words going against the casual detachment they had promised each other. What was meant to be a simple arrangement quickly deepened as they chose to become each other's partners during ruts and heats. This intimacy eventually naturally progressed beyond the bedroom, weaving itself into their daily lives without either of them really noticing until they were already in too deep.
Their routine expanded to include regular lunch breaks and dinners multiple times every week, and their conversations flowed effortlessly, where the topics ranged from wants and dreams and anything in between.
Neither of them was prepared for the moment when the sky-high walls they had both carefully constructed around their hearts began to crumble. Walls they'd built to guard against past wounds and future fears now lay exposed and raw with vulnerabilities, and a longing to know and be known in return.
Ultimately their relationship evolved from quiet attraction, longing, and denial to finally talking things through and deciding to give it a proper go. And here they are, a few years later, committed partners about to have a child and search for a home together.
The only thing left was for them to come out, which was one of the biggest hurdles as of yet.
————§————
The sharp bark of a dog snapped Satoru out of his reverie, and he became aware of the familiar streets leading back to his apartment. The dog stood by the gates to the neighbouring house again, wagging it’s tail, and Satoru quickly remedied the horrid crime of almost neglecting the dog and its promised pets. His mood lightened instantly once his chilly fingers buried themselves in the dog’s very fluffy, very warm, coat.
He gave a little wave to the dog as he continued on, the plastic bag with the strawberry shortcakes swinging gently at his side.
Approaching the apartment, Satoru unconsciously quickened his pace. He could already picture Kento’s sleepy face, the way his brow would furrow once Satoru’s cold body shuffled into bed. He wanted to feel his mate's warm hands on his back as Satoru dipped his nose against the crook of his neck, nuzzling his scent glands until he could taste Kento in his lungs.
He entered the building quietly, his steps light and quick on the black marbled flooring, and made his way up the mirrored elevator. He huffed a laugh at his reflection covered in snow and did his best to brush off what yet remained on his coat and hair. Reaching his floor, he fumbled with the keys for a moment before slipping inside.
The apartment was as quiet and dark as when he’d left it, save for the soft glow of a nightlight in the hallway. Satoru stepped out of his wet shoes, feeling the warmth of home envelop him as he shed his heavy jacket and scarf, hanging them on the coat rack. He moved silently, tiptoeing to the living room that connected to the kitchen, his plastic bag of strawberry cakes rustling unnecessarily loud in the quiet hallway.
He paused abruptly when his eyes fell onto Kento on the couch, nodding off and wrapped in the duvet from the bed. He had his reading glasses perched on his nose, a book halfway closed in his lap, and his hand resting protectively over his shirt-covered belly.
The sight made Satoru’s breath catch in his throat.
He stood there for a moment, letting the scene wash over him. The tension in his shoulders began to melt away immediately. The scent of his mate, the soft rise and fall of Kento’s chest, the peaceful expression on his face, and his very light snoring, it was so grounding in its image that Satoru felt nearly breathless.
Their future had seemed so horribly imposing with all of its uncertainties and fears only moments ago, but now they all felt somehow manageable.
He approached quietly, slow and careful. He didn't want to disturb the peaceful slumber of his partner.
Despite his efforts, his arrival stirred Kento enough for him to groggily blink his eyes open and stretch his heavy arms above his tousled golden hair. The movement was unhurried and deliberate, and his nose scrunched up in a yawn.
“You’re back already?” Kento’s voice was a thick whisper laden with drowsiness, his eyes half-closed as he tried to shake off the remnants of sleep. “I thought you had an emergency mission.”
Satoru quirked a brow and smiled a bit confusedly. “Why’d you get up from bed if you thought I was going to be gone for a while?” He walked up to the couch and bent down to kiss the top of his lover's head, relishing in his rich scent of mate and a smell so explicitly Kento.
Kento scratched his morning stubble and groaned, his displeasure evident and refreshingly honest. Satoru always appreciated this transparency in him. It wasn’t unusual to see him like this during their mornings on days off, but Satoru was surprised he had left the bed so early without the usual prompt of tea and breakfast.
“Habit, I suppose,” Kento replied, stretching again. He reached for Satoru's biceps and gently dragged him to sit beside him on the couch so he could rest his head against Satoru’s shoulder, as if he was still half-asleep.
Satoru couldn’t suppress an amused chuckle. “You usually take advantage of our days off to catch up on sleep, that’s your habit. I’m genuinely surprised you’re up at…” he theatrically pulled out his phone and exclaimed, “4:30 AM! Kento, should I be worried? Is this cause for concern? Is it Junior kicking up a storm?”
“She certainly doesn’t make it easier,” Kento huffed, throwing a glaring eye at his belly. Right on cue, the baby gave a pronounced kick to his sternum and he winced slightly, muttering quietly about ‘martial arts’ baby before turning the same exact glare to Satoru. “Your daughter is a menace.”
“Just like me!” Satoru boasted, like it was the highest praise he’d ever been given. “But I think you mean our son. He’s already showing us he’s a capable fighter!”
Kento rolled his eyes, still rubbing his sore sternum. “She won’t be a fighter if I have any say in it,” he said, his tone resolute. “She’s getting the stubborn-ness from you.”
Satoru returned the eye-roll. “As if you’re not stubborn enough for both of us.” He leaned in to plant a playful kiss on Kento’s cheek, his lips lingering just for Kento to feel his smile dragging across his skin.
His lover scoffed, which, rude.“Coming from the guy who can’t seem to stop challenging everything that moves.” He raised a brow and somehow Kento's voice was both exasperated and teasing.
“Okay but—“
“You literally argued with a vending machine once for 10 whole minutes.” Kento interrupted, his eyebrow still arched.
Satoru sputtered. “Once! The machine ate my money and didn’t give me my Pocari Sweat! If it had been a person, it would’ve been considered theft!”
“In court it would be classified as theft regardless, but only if it was set up to purposely scam you out of money,” Kento pointed out. “You just proved my point, by the way.”
His tone was mock-dramatic as he placed a hand over his heart. “And you proved my point! I was robbed that day, and frankly, I’m hurt that you don’t agree with me.”
“I never said I didn’t agree with you, I just don’t care,” Kento replied, his expression deadpan but the twinkle in his eye giving away his amusement.
Satoru made a wounded noise and went down on his knees, settling himself in between Kento’s spread legs. Pressing both of his hands against his partner’s stomach, he whispered conspiratorially, “Your papa is a meanie.”
He could almost hear his lover rolling his eyes, but Satoru paid him no mind and kissed the little fist or foot that stretched the skin of Kento’s belly. He knew their little baby was on Satoru’s side.
“So if not for work, where did you decide was so important to go this early in the morning?” Kento’s voice held a note of suspicion, but Satoru responded with a broad smile, pointing to the plastic bag placed haphazardly on the floor next to the couch.
“See for yourself.” He shuffled through the bag and pulled out a single cake container, holding it up for his Kento to see.
Kento, in turn, was left confused. “A cake?” He took the offered treat, examining it closely as he felt the couch cushion dip with Satoru’s return to his side.
“Someone,” Satoru began with a sly smile, “was being awfully talkative in his sleep. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t satisfy my lover’s pregnancy cravings? You wanted this cake so much you dreamed of it, even smacking your lips as if you were eating it! You were so cute, I should’ve taken a video.”
Kento made a tiny noise as if his throat was constricted around something hard to swallow. “It’s a strawberry shortcake.” He managed eventually, voice thick.
Satoru preened and reached to reveal the remaining two containers in the bag. “I even brought you a second and third helping!”
Kento inhaled sharply. “For me?”
Apparently, his lover wasn’t quite awake yet. Satoru had thought his explanation was perfectly clear, but as he observed his partner more closely Kento's eyes seemed to be going a bit red rimmed and glassy, almost like he was too tired to stay awake. The soft light from the nearby lamp highlighted the delicate creases around his eyes, and Satoru felt a pang of concern.
He was pregnant, after all. Satoru had no real understanding of the physical exhaustion his lover endured while carrying their child, but he knew exhaustion wasn’t doing either of them any good.
“You are clearly too tired to be up this early,” He decided and made to reach for the cake, intending to carry Kento back to bed, but his mate turned his entire upper body to face him and quickly cradled the cake in his hands, away from Satoru’s reach.
The way Kento’s hazel eyes glistened was almost hypnotic. Satoru now noticed the reddening of his cheeks and nose, the slight pout of his lips, and the furrow of his brow and - are those tears-?!
“Kento-“
“You went out in the freezing cold, at 4:30 in the morning, to get me not one, but three strawberry shortcakes because I asked for it in my sleep?” Kento’s voice carried a mix of disbelief and something that strongly resemble indignation.
Why did he sound mad? Was he mad? For the cakes? Satoru was incredibly confused.
He had to open and close his mouth a few times before finding his voice. “Yes?” Satoru didn’t think he’d ever heard his voice sound so meek. “Did I do something wrong?” He gasped, realizing that could absolutely be the case. “I’m sorry, I thought for sure—”
Somehow Kento’s eyes got even wetter. “No!”
He quickly placed the cake on the living room table and took hold of Satoru’s hands, his grip firm. He shook his head, and Satoru was horrified to see actual tears caught on blond eyelashes glimmering from the movement. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong. I’m sorry… Please give me a minute.”
And for that minute they sat in silence. Satoru watched anxiously as his lover’s shoulders slumped, and so he turned their clasped hands around, bringing the sensitive skin of Kento’s wrist to his lips for a gentle kiss. The heavy scent of distress lingered, sharp and unwelcome, and Satoru pressed his tongue firmly to the roof of his mouth to try and calm his fidgeting body.
Finally, Kento broke the silent blanket hovering over the room, filling his lungs and clearing his throat. His cheeks began to flush into a soft pink that stretched all the way to the tips of his ears, and he seemed to be grappling with the right words to choose.
Satoru sat patiently and watched the muscles in his jaw tightening and loosening.
“I’m… It’s just a lot.” he admitted and shied away from his lover's questioning stare and instead focused on the furthest wall in the room, his embarrassment undeniable.
Satoru tilted his head, his brows knitting together as he tried to piece together Kento’s distress. He gently brushed his thumb over the back of his lover’s hand, more for his own benefit than Kento’s at this point. “A lot…?” He let the sentence hang.
Kento nodded, his gaze still fixed on a distant point, refusing to meet Satoru’s eyes. “The pregnancy. The mood swings. It’s... a lot sometimes.”
A small sigh escaped Satoru’s lips. “Oh.” He squeezed Kento’s hands gently, feeling the quickened pulse beneath his fingers. “So you’re…not mad?” His voice was tender, his eyes searching Kento’s face for a sign of reassurance.
The scowl sent his way was almost enough to make Satoru flinch. “Why on earth would I be mad at you?”
The urge to throw his hands up in the air was strong, but the need to be able to feel his mate's grounding pressure was even more so. Instead, Satoru settled on a childish whine, and he hoped it would be enough to properly translate his frustration.
“I don’t know! You tell me why you suddenly burst into tears when I said I bought cake!”
“Strawberry shortcake.” Somehow the way Kento pronounced the word made Satoru feel even more stupid for not understanding something seemingly so simple.
“Yes!” This time the urge won over and he expressed his exasperation by throwing his arms down on the couch, Kento’s still clutched hands following along with him. “I bought them because I thought you’d like them, even though you usually don’t. But you’ve gotten even more strange cravings than suddenly liking sweets, and my favorite dessert shouldn’t earn that reaction when you’ve gone around eating carrots dipped in ketchup like they’re fries!”
“Satoru.” Kento sighed, which really didn’t help Satoru’s slow transition to madness. “You brought me your favorite dessert, for me to eat because I mentioned it in my dreams.”
Satoru ‘hmm’ed’ and nodded along, his face a picture of earnest attentiveness, because he really didn’t know what he was supposed to be getting here.
Changing tactics, Kento spoke slowly and carefully, like Satoru was being infuriatingly obtuse on purpose. “You went out in the ass-crack of dawn in the freezing cold to get me a cake that I apparently craved enough to dream about, and you did this with the intention not to eat it yourself, but to gift it to me.”
“Because you asked for it!” Satoru retorted, his tone exasperated.
Kento nodded, his thumbs rubbing along his lover’s knuckles. “Yes.” Though his patience was wearing thin, the affection in his eyes had somehow never been more clear.
“Well—!” Satoru stammered, still baffled. This back and forth was bordering on annoying if it weren’t so confusing.“Why were you crying then?”
Somehow Kento’s small smile confused him even further. “Because it made me really happy.”
“That’s—!” Satoru began, but then he stopped, his eyes widening as the realization struck him with the force of a speeding truck. “Oh.”
Kento raised an eyebrow, watching Satoru’s expression shift from confusion to something akin to shock. He blinked several times, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
There was a warmth in Kento’s gaze now, and it heated Satoru’s cheeks.
“You just got really happy.” He blurted.
Kento’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile, the corners lifting ever so slightly. “Yes,” he admitted quietly, and squeezed his dumb lover’s hands. “It was just... really thoughtful. And I didn’t expect it.”
It was now Satoru’s turn to avert his gaze, suddenly very fascinated by the woven pattern of their carpet. He’d never thought one could actually cry out of happiness before, especially not because of something so small, and especially not stoic and serious Kento who enjoyed bitter tea and carrots with ketchup.
But that wasn’t true now, was it? Kento was the most emotionally intelligent person he knew, and he moved through life with a calm assurance Satoru rarely saw in others.
Was it normal to cry out of happiness, pregnancy, and mood swings aside? It must be if Kento did it.
Has anyone ever made Satoru that happy before?
He couldn’t recall a time when someone did.
His voice was tight with emotion when he repeated, “Oh.”
For a moment the room was silent, not uncomfortable but a little awkward. It was rare for Satoru to be lost for words, even more so when it came to Kento. He shifted a little, still holding Kento’s hands, his fingertips rubbing circles into the skin.
Finally, Kento took a deep breath, clearing his throat. "You asked me earlier, right? Why I was up? I wasn’t lying when I told you it was out of habit." His cheeks were flushed again, but his voice was steady and sure. “I prefer being awake when you get home. That way I always know you made it back.”
Satorus head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise and something softer, more tender.
“And I know you’re going to say, ‘I am the strongest’...” Satoru didn’t appreciate the overly high pitched voice that Kento thought fitting for him, but he nodded along nonetheless because it was true, he was the strongest. An undeniable fact and an even more unaviodable fate.
The depths of hazel bore into Satoru’s very soul, and he was left a little breathless when Kento brought his hands up to hold his cheeks, thumbs gently trailing under his eyes like he was a treasure. “That doesn’t give you immunity to my worries. I love you, and I will always worry for you.”
The sound that escaped from his lungs was nearly inaudible, and a sudden heaviness settled in Satoru’s chest and his body unconsciously curled towards the comfort of his lover's hands cradling his face.
He felt his throat tighten, his eyes prickling with an unexpected rush of emotion. He felt he had no air left in his lungs, and when he breathed in he almost choked on the scent of love and love and love and love-
“Oh.”
And Kento laughed, and if ever gods could shed tears from joy, it would be in this moment.
“I love you too.” With all of my heart, and my soul, and my being, my all belongs to you.
And Kento’s palms caught his tears as they trailed down his cheeks, and their kiss was a mirrored smile against wet, salty lips.
It's a strange feeling, to kiss someone that’s crying and smiling at the same time, but Satoru decides that he likes it; Like the way Kento’s fingers curl around his ears, the way they make Satoru completely weak in the knees, and the way their lips almost go numb from the amount of force it takes for them not to giggle. Satoru wonders if this is how it feels to be drunk.
It’s almost electric, this rush of love love love, like a current of lightning that flows through every fiber of his being, and he can’t help himself but wanting to capture this moment forever in his memory.
He hooks his thumb around the temple of his lover's reading glasses and lifts them up, and he’s gentle when combing his fingers through Kento’s hair and up towards his scalp. He lets the glasses rest on the top of blonde, ruffled bed hair, and now without obstruction, Satoru has a full view of every detail he wants to take in…
Kento’s cheeks are flushed, a deep crimson that contrasts with the golden strands of his hair. They’re also a bit wet from tears, and his lips are trembling slightly with the effort to hold back his laughter. Satoru thinks his eyes are so pretty when they glisten like this, like a hidden topaz treasure catching sunlight deep beneath the sea.
He’s so beautiful. He thinks.
He wants to say it. The words are on the tip of his tongue, lingering and growing and almost choking, until—
“You’re so beautiful.”
Except Kento beats him to it, and Satoru doesn’t really know where to put his eyes because looking at Kento now just makes his cheeks burn and causes his heart to flutter and feel far too big in his body. It’s overwhelming, feeling so much and so uncontrolled, and it leaves Satoru momentarily speechless.
He fidgets, doesn’t really know what to do with his suddenly very clammy hands, and in the midst of his (not) panic, he slaps them over his face in a futile attempt to hide.
Somehow he still senses Kento’s eyes on him, and then slight freckled fingers tug at his arms so that Satoru falls against his chest, and when Satoru gets drowned in the scent of mate and belonging, he realizes that this is what he always wants to come home to. Not a place, but a presence—warm, inviting, and eternally accepting. Where your fears are soothed and your heart is forever cherished in gentle hands.
After a minute or an eternity passes by, Kento dives his nose into pale white hair and breathes, scenting his lover, the father of his child, and Satou keens, kissing and scenting Kento’s throat in return. He lets his lips find a collarbone, and he lazily kisses along its edge from throat to shoulder.
The words are muffled against Satoru’s scalp. “I never did say thank you, did I?”
And Satoru thinks it’s entirely unnecessary, but now he knows how much this gesture meant to Kento, and being treated with such love in return is enough for Satoru to live a lifetime more, so he doesn’t say that. Instead, he wants to be honest, unfiltered, and what comes out is: “I’d do anything for you.”
“I know.” Kento smiles. Satoru can feel it against the skin between his eyes. “Which is why it’s so important to me that you know how much I appreciate you.”
“I–...” do. Is what he was about to say, but Kento cuts in and searches for Satoru’s eyes with his own. “I don’t mean what you do for me, though that’s certainly not to say I don’t appreciate it. It’s just you, Satoru. You existing in this life, and that I get to live in it.”
Something in Kento’s voice, earnest and open, halts him.
Kento is probably the only currently living person on this earth that Satoru would do absolutely anything for––would bend the waves of the ocean to assure his happiness, move mountains to ensure his comfort, and command the stars in the sky to light and banish the shadows from his past.
Doesn’t Kento know that it’s him who gets to live in Kento’s life? That it’s Kento that brings Satoru so much love and happiness by allowing him to stand as his partner?
Surely Kento knows this? He must know. Because what is Gojo Satoru if he isn’t a protector; someone whose purpose in this world is to serve the greater good?
And what greater good is there other than Nanami Kento?
He must’ve been too deep in his thoughts because Kento sighs against his lips and squeezes his hands. “Just trust me.”
And Satoru knows that his silence was taken as doubt; why else would Kento sound so crestfallen and tired, as if he had been proven right about something disappointing?
But Satoru is physically unable to do anything but obey. “Okay.” He gives a small smile, kisses Kentos lips, and adds, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
They end up sitting on the couch in each other's arms for a good while, until Kento remembers the cakes still sitting on the floor. He tells Satoru that it’d be a waste if they went bad now after all the effort it took for him to get them.
Satoru pouts and is reluctant to leave their little bubble, but Kento’s scowl and complaints of back pain from dozing on the couch brings him to his feet relatively quickly.
“You don’t want one now?”
“No thank you. I think I’ll take one with me tomorrow, and save the rest for the evening”
“You’re gonna eat two in the evening?” The question is seemingly nonchalant but Kento knows better and can see the glint of hope in Satoru’s eyes.
“I might be in a sharing mood.” He says, and Satoru’s head turns a little too quick, his eyes go a little too bright, and Kento is entirely unable to resist saying: “I heard Takao-san’s Shiba Inu really loves strawberries.”
Almost immediately there’s a long and drawn out whine of “Nanami!”, whose whole 190cm body quickly deflates, and Kento himself blames the early morning without proper rest and coffee for his inability to stifle his laughter.
There’s a sudden twitch of cursed energy, and Kento has enough sense to duck when his eyes spot the shimmer of ‘red’ encompassing one of the pillows on the couch aimed at his head. He laughs harder.
“You ass!” Satoru pouts, and throws the fridge now full of cakes closed with a flick of his wrist. “And here I was planning to ask you out tomorrow for lunch.” He adds nonchalantly.
Kento’s belly jumps with the aftereffect of his laughter, his hand instinctively settling on it to slow his breathing. The smile that lingers on his lips makes Satoru’s knees go weak. It’s entirely unfair of Kento to be so—so Kento! It all makes it impossible for Satoru to stay mad at him.
“So you don’t want to?” Kento asks, and Satoru does a double take.
“Don’t want to? What? Go out together?” He repeats and adds for clarification: “Just the two of us. Not Utahime or Shoko or Mei Mei or-”
“Or Yaga or Ijichi-kun, yes. Do you still want to go out?”
What a ridiculous question, Satoru thinks, but he feels a flutter of equal excitement and dread nonetheless. “Just you and me?”
After all, they had both come to an agreement not to tell anyone about their relationship yet. It was better that way; less questions from the clans and no one to target Kento for being together with Gojo Satoru.
Yet the thought of it had never sounded so good. The longing to share his life openly with the man he loved, to experience the world together without the need for secrecy, it all felt so tantalizingly out of reach, like if he just stretched just a bit further he’d be able to grasp it.
There was nothing else he wanted more. There was nothing else that brought him so much fear.
The couch creaked at Kento’s weight as he struggled to stand, and Satoru was quick on his feet to offer a hand to help drag him up.
Their hands stay clasped together, yet somehow Satoru feels like they’re worlds apart. He immediately crosses Kento’s personal bubble to slot his head against the sensitive skin between his shoulder and neck. He just needs a bit of this, to be close and gather his thoughts.
It’s a testament to how long they’ve been together, because Kento just sighs and noses at Satoru’s ear and waits, their hands still knotted together.
“If we do this…” Satoru starts, swallowing. “You know we can’t go back.”
Kento answers this by bringing up their joint hands towards his lips, and he’s gentle when he urges Satoru to meet his gaze.
“I believe we’re way past that point, don’t you think?”
His throat is so dry, Satoru swallows again. “Yes, but–” He cuts himself off and averts his eyes, leaving the sentence hanging. But what?
“Satoru.” Kento tilts his head so their eyes meet again. Satoru feels like he’s about to plunge into water, like he’s just a step away from the edge leading him to a freefall. He clutches Kento’s hands tighter.
“Satoru.” Kento repeats, squeezing his hands back. “I trust you.”
Satoru forces a short, breathy laugh and feels his heart jump in his chest.
Kento continues: “Do you trust me?”
Satoru leaps and lets the ocean swallow him. “With my life.”
The smile Kento gives him is blinding, Satoru cannot help but return it. It feels like he’s suddenly 10 times lighter, like he’s overflowing with happiness and like the earth has righted itself on its axis.
Kento kisses him, and Satoru can feel his smile against his lips. “Now ask me properly.”
“Hmn?”
“ ‘Do you want to go on a lunch date tomorrow after the meeting?’ ”
Oh. “Yes please.”
Kento huffs a laugh, like he wants to stifle it but is unable to. His smile is ever present though, so Satoru kisses him again just because he can.
When they eventually go back to bed it’s nearing 5:30AM. They yawn in synch as they shuffle under the duvet. Satoru inches closer to Kento’s neck and kisses it, and his chest gets warmed by Kento’s broad back as they slot together like puzzle pieces. Satoru trails his hand up and across his waist until it rests on Kento’s stomach, and his mate sighs in total contentment.
Their alarm wouldn’t ring until 7:30, they’d deal with the world then.