Play date - gojo x reader

40.

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Welp.

Shit.

That was the only thought that passed through Gojo's head as he sat beneath the kotatsu, morning having come, bright and unforgiving.

He'd disposed of the evidence, stuffing his soiled t-shirt he'd used to clean you up down deep into his bag and resolving to just wash it when they got back home— fuck. No. When they got back to his apartment.

He should have worn a condom. But that would have required speaking, moving, and, ya know, giving a shit. God this was bad. So bad. It didn't help he'd word vomited out all that extra stuff the day before, unable to stop the words once they started falling out.

It had been a good speech! It was just... w hat was true? What was a lie? It was getting all mixed up, senses overwhelmed by the smell of her hair, her clothes, the warmth of her body pressed against his in the dark. The very thought should have had him aroused and his thoughts crafting a million vile, disgusting scenarios... but instead he was simply content, skin pleasantly stinging where her nails had left scratches between his shoulder blades. He'd kept his reversal from healing them and he didn't know why.

A door slid open and from the hall came the harpy woman, Gojo doing his best to hide his scowl. Her mother had gotten the best of him, a fact he was still feeling the ache of in his pride. She quietly passed him into the kitchen, not even a good morning spared his way as he listened to her movements— understood she was brewing coffee as opposed to tea.

She brought back two mugs, a dish of sugar and a carton of creamer.

Gojo dropped cube after cube into his own mug, dreading the moment the silence would break.

But it didn't, not for a very long time. Her mother's coffee nearly gone by the time she curled her hands around the mug and sighed.

"There is something important we have to discuss. I have decided to talk to you first, for her sake."

Gojo looked up at her, noting how similar their face shape was, the curve of their mouths and their hair— white only in the two faint spots. He wondered if it was a result of the Gojo blood, like his, or something else, something only they shared as parent and child.

He rather it to be from what they shared instead. The tiny familiar stab of jealousy interrupting his thoughts for only the briefest moment before he brushed it away. Told himself he was being ridiculous. Jealous? Over her having other people in her life who loved her? A family that saw her first and foremost as their child, not an evolutionary boon to expand their power in the main household?

"When there was a possibility it was her who had been born Six Eyes... there were things we were told. Warned about."

He knew where this was going without her having to explain further.

"Did you tell her about them?"

Her mother shook her head, eyes sharp, "No, I... I didn't want to frighten her."

She ran her thumb against the lip of her mug. Gojo swirled his finger in his own, churning up the sugar before sucking the digit clean.

"Are you going to tell her now?"

"Shouldn't you?"

Tell her what? That the Six Eyes came with more side-effects than just overstimulation? That it could lead to him one day down the road absolutely losing his ever loving shit? A drooling, catatonic vegetable at best? An actual madman, raging and monstrous and unstoppable at worst? Even as he was now he could kill every human on earth before lunch and have room to make his way through most of the plants and animals before dessert. He could utterly decimate this entire planet, leaving it fit for only curses and sorcerers to inhabit, but his good sense and 'moral integrity' kept him from doing so.

Take that away and what was he? A bomb.

"There isn't any guarantee that I'll ever get like that. Besides, I'm taking steps to ensure there are sorcerers around that are powerful enough to execute me if I were to, so it isn't her problem."

"... you don't think your execution would be a problem for her? The woman you are marrying?"

Stepped right into that one. This lady was clever. Yeah, he could see it. He'd seen it the other day too. That same look in her eyes that his own darling fiancee often had. Smart. Powerful. Disarming. Yet here she was, living like a village witch from a Ghibli film in the middle of nowhere.

There was a story there, one he was certain she'd never tell but probably had something to do with the man still asleep in the other room. Gojo had noted immediately the difference in their cursed energy levels, their power. Her father no doubt could see curses, but that was where his abilities ended.

"Do you care about her? And I don't just mean her well-being. I mean her. Maybe that is too much to ask— do you even like her?"

"I like her just fine."

"And the rest?"

Gojo drank his coffee and let the quiet sounds of the morning outside be his non-reply.

"...you will take care of her, won't you? Protect her? Keep her safe from—" she hesitated, "Just keep her safe."

"If she needs me. Yeah."

Your mother smiled at that, an acknowledgement of what they both knew. You hardly were the type who needed someone else to save you. The stairs creaked, a yawn announcing your arrival. Gojo turned towards it, a smile already on his lips, eager to see your face come around the hall. Your ey es were still sleepy, hair wavy and messy, pajama bottoms on inside out in a way that was both damning and way too fucking cute. She had gotten dressed again in the dark after all. At the sight of him, you perked just a little bit and smiled back at him.

"Is there coffee?"

"Kitchen." Your mother said, drawing Gojo's eyes back to her. She wasn't looking at you though as she spoke, she was looking at him, something— knowing in her expression. Amused and yet... comforted.

"What?" He couldn't stop himself from asking, voice flattening. Her mother just smiled, shook her head and stood, going to seek her daughter out in the kitchen. Gojo felt the heat rising in his ears, wanting to rub it out, force it to cool before anyone could see.