Summary: Two binary stars come dangerously close to stellar collision. A divine presence is summoned.
Asabé has been kissed before, this much is obvious. She has been kissed tenderly by her late husband, who always made it a point to gush and fawn over how beautiful she was. She has been kissed by others too, who remarked on the softness of her plump lips, on how sweet her breath is, how tender and sensual her tongue. Her pulse has raced with the anticipation of a kiss before, her heart beating a feverish cadence in her chest, lightheaded and dizzy.
But when Satoru Gojo kisses her, it's different.
His mouth brushes hers and she yields almost immediately, as if compelled by some unseen goading from the universe. Her lips part under his and he seals his mouth over hers, moaning deep in his chest as she whimpers. Her hands come up, cupping his face as the kiss deepens. To say her pulse is racing is an understatement. Her pulse is humming, her blood roaring in her ears, her scalp tingling. Everything about Satoru Gojo is turning her on, from the solidness of his stance, to the way his big hands caress and pet her as they kiss.
Fuck, she wants him so badly it hurts, but this is a ruse. She has to keep reminding herself that this is merely a ruse.
Gojo pulls away just enough to peer at hear from above the rim of his sunglasses, and Asabé realizes that she has not been seeing things: his eyes really do glow on their own.
"Oh…" Because what other response is there? She stares at him, transfixed.
"Oh," Gojo repeats, his deep voice amused. Asabé is dizzy with desire and she realizes she's still holding his face in her hands.
"You're so beautiful," he says from between her hands, amused and sincere all at once. "My beautiful, gorgeous wife."
The word makes her shiver, and he feels it, smirking harder.
"Do you want to go home?" He asks softly. Asabé nods wordlessly, unable to speak for fear of begging him to take her right then and there. Gojo pulls away from her entirely, and she is forced to let go of his face. One of his hands trails down her throat, over her shoulder, down her arm, only to lace his fingers with hers and pull her close enough to wrap his arm around her as he guides her over the bridge and toward the exit. He leans down to brush his lips over the top of her head again, kissing her temple.
When they enter the car, Gojo sits on the other side of the seat, sighing and leaning back.
"Wonderful performance, by the way," he says casually and Asabé blinks. Gojo grins. "You almost had me convinced that we really are married. Mr. Hayashi was a lucky man."
At the mention of her late husband, Asabé inwardly flinches. It's like ice water. Gojo has completely broken the intimacy between them, and is now treating her like…like she's a client again. He isn't even looking at her, scrolling through his phone like he is, occasionally chuckling to himself as he sends a text. Likely he's got women galore clamoring for his attention, Asabé thinks bitterly, and wonders why she cares so fucking much.
When they pull up to the apartment, Ijichi and the concierge work to bring the spoils of Asabé's haul up to the penthouse, depositing them in her bedroom before leaving. Gojo takes off his sunglasses once they're alone, running his fingers through his hair with a sigh.
"Mm, so what shall we do for dinner tonight?" He asks, as Asabé emerges from the bedroom. Gojo watches her momentarily, before returning to his phone.
"I can cook tonight," Asabé responds. "I had the concierge and Ijichi go out for groceries while we were out."
Gojo grins. "Look at you, already acting like a wife and running the household. What's for dinner, my beautiful bride?"
Asabé ignores the flush of heat in her face.
"You forget that I was a wife before all of this, Satoru," she says lightly. Gojo's grin never wavers. "In any case, I'll be making a dish from my homeland: jollof rice."
"I've heard of it," he says. "Sounds tasty. What's for dessert?"
Asabé is already in the kitchen, getting everything she needs. Gojo follows, curious and excited to see what she comes up with.
"That depends," Asabé says airily, taking out a cutting board and fetching a knife from the knife block. "What does my hardworking, not-a-nuisance-at-all husband want to sweeten his tongue?"
Gojo doesn't know why, but her words make him shiver. This is new. Usually he's the one saying things that gives people tingles down their spine but this woman—this sorceress—is meeting him exactly where he's at and it's thrilling him from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes. He wants to gather her up, set her on the counter, and kneel between her thighs. That's certain to sweeten his tongue, he's sure.
"Chocolate," he says instead. Asabé spares him a cursory glance, her smirk evident.
"Check the fridge, masoyi," she says, her eyes glittering with amusement. Gojo eyes her momentarily, but then opens the fridge. Sure enough, there's a pan of fudge brownies in there. Then, he registers the word she used, glancing at her in puzzlement. She's not looking at him, chopping onions with a deft hand. He wonders how a woman who grew up as a wealthy heir even knows her way around a kitchen. He can't remember his mother ever touching a kitchen utensil. Servants and cooks usually handle everything at the estate. And these days, living like a wealthy bachelor, Gojo is fine eating out. The women who make it back to his apartment never stay long enough to figure out how to get ice out of the freezer anyway.
"If you plan on standing there, the least you could do is get the rice started, eh?" Asabé says without looking up from her task. Somehow she's found everything she needs, and the rice cooker is already plugged in.
"You seem to be doing just fine without me getting in the way," Gojo says reaching for the cake.
"Aht aht!" Asabé's voice is sharp. Gojo's hand freezes.
"No cake until after dinner," she says sweetly. "If you want something sweet, try dabino. It's sweet, but it's healthy and won't ruin your appetite."
Gojo frowns but it's more of a pout. "Are you seriously banning me from eating cake?"
Asabé never stops, moving with a smooth efficiency as she grabs the blender and a bag of fresh tomatoes.
"Yes," she says cheerfully. "You eat like a fucking five year old, Satoru. It's a wonder you still have all your teeth at this rate."
"I brush!" Gojo says by way of protest. Asabé eyes him. "And floss!" He adds. "And use mouthwash!"
She pats his cheek, and Gojo finds even the sharp scent of onions is appealing coming from her.
"And you're such a good boy for doing all of those things, masoyi," she teases. "But your gut health is important. And I need you healthy."
Gojo's eyes flash dangerously, and he grins.
"Oh I'm plenty healthy," his voice comes out more of a growl than he intends and Asabé freezes. All at once the power slips back into his hands and he smirks like a predator on the scent. But Asabé is no lamb. Her honey-hued eyes sweep over him like a caress, appraising and impressed. Gojo Satoru is nothing if not a beautiful specimen of a man.
"I'm sure you are," she says in that simmering, sultry tone that makes him want to curl his toes. "But right now, you are in charge of the rice." She reaches for the pack of dabino in the fridge, opening it to fetch one. It's small and brown and sticky with sweet syrup.
"Nan," she says softly, offering it. Gojo turns his head, takes the date from her fingertips. She's right: it's sweet, as sweet as anything else he shovels into his mouth, and he chews thoughtfully, pausing when he feels the seed. He removes it from his mouth, setting it aside. When Asabé takes her hand away he's quick as a strike of lightning. She gasps when he gently seizes her wrist. Then, he brings her syrup stained fingertips to his mouth. Asabé watches him with wide eyes.
Gojo sucks her index finger into his mouth, slow and indulgent, and then releases it. He does the same to every finger, watching her the whole time. His sight tells him she is more than aroused. All the heat in her body is rising, her blood rushing, cascading, down to her loins. He can see her pulse, hammering in that tender plane of her neck like a trapped thing. He can see her heart pumping. He can see her ribs expanding as she struggles to breathe evenly.
"I think I like dabino," he says softly, voice husky, letting his moist lips brush over her knuckles. He feels the shiver in her, from the head to the tailbone. Yes. Good.
"I think you do too," she says softly, never breaking his gaze. "Will that satisfy you for now, Satoru?"
Gojo doesn't let go of her wrist. "I don't think I could ever settle for one, Asabé. I've an insatiable sweet tooth, as you know. I think I might eat the entire box before the rice is done."
She shivers again, and then takes her wrist away from him. He lets her go, smirking. The scales are once more tipped in his favor. He does oblige her by helping with the rice at least, but now it feels as if she has earned his help rather than him being eager to obey her.
And he's so damn eager, but he's gonna make her work for it.
He wants her to unshackle her voice so badly, wants to test the bounds of Limitless against the gift of the Siren. Can he resist her? Can he grow her skill? Can he get her to stop being so afraid of her family finding her?
He wonders how she will feel if he offers to simply kill anyone who tries to take her back. Likely not a good reaction, but he can think of no easier way to deal with this. The Ruhín family can always tap into their House of Saud alliances if money gets slim, and who knows what new sorcerers they'll send to contend with the Honored One?
He has to admit, he's excited to see just how far they're willing to go. He loves sharpening his fangs on curse users. He almost wishes the one whose been prowling around the property would give up his foolish surveillance and attack. He almost wishes making a move wouldn't spook the others he'd seen when taking Asabé shopping. By the time they came back, he counted no less than seven curse users watching them. The exciting part is trying to discern is if they were there for her or for him.
The only thing this tells him is that there is a bounty involved. And these foolish curse users will be forced to bring her in alive and unharmed. Gojo knows from experience that most of the curse users who take these kinds of jobs tend to be too deranged and psychotic to actually be successful at kidnapping. And the one person who could likely pull this job off has been dead for nearly a decade.
Gojo saw to that himself.
Over the course of the next hour, he watches Asabé cook. She's quick and efficient, and he can't help but wonder what she'd look like doing this regularly. Maybe she'll let him chop the onions next time. Maybe she'll let him sneak a slice of cake. Maybe he'll wrap his arms around her waist and nuzzle her neck, try to tempt her for a quickie, see how quickly he can make her come before the pot starts bubbling over. The kitchen smells heavenly, and his penthouse suddenly doesn't feel like a big empty box, and more like a…home.
Fuck. He has to remember this is a ruse. Domesticity has never been his thing, but Asabé looks so damn good, humming to herself while she stirs blended tomato sauce and peppers. The onions are sizzling in a pan of olive oil, seasoned with cayenne and garlic. He licks his lips, sees himself going there to slip his arms around her waist, let her feel just how fucking much he wanted her. He's damn near vibrating in place from the idea. He sees himself nuzzling her throat, peppering it with kisses, letting himself feel the sultry purr of her voice as she gives him approval to continue.
His phone buzzes. It's Nanami. Thank fuck. Someone with some sense.
?Nanamin? ﾟﾏﾼ ?: How goes the security detail? I hope you're keeping things professional since you opted to not have her stay at the school.
Gojo frowns at his phone. Of course he's keeping things professional! But sometimes the job calls for a bit of theater and can anyone blame him if he's thinking about how soft her skin was when he was caressing her leg in the store today? Or the way her mouth feels against his, tasting like vanilla and honey and all the sweet things he craves?
He is imagining what her pussy tastes like. He could go up to her right now, kneel behind her, spread her open and bury his face in all of that.
?Honored One?: Of course I'm keeping it professional. And it was her choice not to be at the school. She's safer with me. Turns out her technique is super powerful, who knew?
?Nanamin? ﾟﾏﾼ ?: We had a run-in with a few delegates from her family today.
Gojo's expression hardens, all humor chased away as the entire purpose of the job comes thundering back into place. He reluctantly turns away from Asabé, who hums as she cooks, and makes a sign that he's stepping out on a call. He goes out to the balcony through the living room, dialing Nanami directly. He picks up on the first ring.
"What do you mean delegates from her family?" Gojo hisses. "It's literally day one!"
Nanami sighs. "My guess is that she's been followed since before she contacted us for help. They didn't seem to want a fight, but they were insistent on speaking with you. That, and if I were them, the obvious choice would be to investigate Jujutsu Tech to see if she made contact. Your plan does have flaws, Gojo."
Gojo frowns and tries to ignore his colleague's scathing dig at his admittedly impulsive plan. "Well, what did you tell them? Do they know she's here?"
"It's likely they know she's with you, as they mentioned spotting the two of you together today…being intimate."
Gojo grins, but the mirth does not reach the cold, distant cosmos of his eyes, which are filled with a sort of grim ssatisfaction. So their ruse was the right move. Even just seeing her with him should be enough to give them all pause. They must retreat and rethink their next courses of action.
"So they want a sit-down to negotiate," Gojo says. Nanami murmurs assent.
"So it would seem, but if the two of you are involved it's likely there will be some sort of demand made for official records. I recommend the two of you get a marriage certificate and some wedding photos before they approach you directly."
"Well," Gojo says. "We technically haven't announced anything. And they saw us together once. I say we let this thing simmer a bit longer, convince them that I really am courting her. Maybe they'll back off before we have to hunt down a judge."
"And just how long do you think they'll wait before they're convinced to leave?" Nanami asks. "They could make trouble for us if we don't play our cards right."
Gojo sprawls on one of the patio chairs with a long sigh.
"Don't worry, Nanamin," he says flippantly. "It's going to work itself out. And if nothing else, maybe I can talk her into becoming a teacher at Jujutsu Tech."
Nanami is quiet a moment, and Gojo thinks maybe the call has dropped but then he hears the other man's soft intake of breath.
"Why are you determined to help her, Gojo?" He asks. Gojo is quiet this time, considering his answer.
"I don't think her talents deserve to sit on a shelf and rot while she is forced to marry and give birth to sorcerers her family will actually care about and nurture. She's strong, Nanami, really strong, and I think we could use that strength here where she can live a life she chooses."
Nanami makes a thoughtful sound.
"You mean a life you choose for her."
"Huh?"
"You want her to join jujutsu society here," Nanami says. "But she has been living here already; living the life she wanted to live before her husband passed and she was forced to seek us out."
"She's been living a life of fear, Nanami," Gojo argues back with a scornful scoff. "And a life lived in fear is a half-life at best, and a miserable no-life at worst. She deserves better than that. She deserves to be free and able to walk around without having to fucking seal herself and her power!"
That last line is a little too loud, and he hears a soft clearing of a throat. He looks up, eyes glowing like electricity as the sun sinks behind the skyline and trees. Asabé stands in the doorway.
"Dinner's ready," she says softly, and she smiles at him, but Gojo sees a sadness there that wasn't there before. Fuck. How much did she hear?
"I'll be right there," he says to her, and his smile is warm, his eyes soft. He watches as her vitals relax somewhat, the pulse slowing, the blood flowing in a rush and not a roar. Sometimes using Six Eyes is a cheatsheet, other times it's a guide on how to disarm volatile situations. Asabé takes a deep breath and exhales before turning to head back inside.
"She heard you, didn't she?" Nanami asks. Gojo growls under his breath. Nanami doesn't say it, but he heard too. The knife cuts two ways, and Gojo never feels it.
"It's fine." Gojo says. "I stand by what I said. Did her family leave any contact information or are they playing spymaster until the last minute?"
"I'll text you the name and number. I believe they're staying in the city. And they are registered with the Nigerian Embassy."
Gojo doesn't miss how he stresses that last part. Great, they're here and listed officially as in the country, meaning they have some semblance of diplomatic immunity. It also means he can't kill them without causing an international incident. Clever fuckers. Ah well, he'll find a way to drive them back home one way or another.
No one is taking Asabé from him.
Dinner is delicious, and Gojo finds himself reluctantly admitting that Asabé is an excellent cook. He wonders if she had cooks growing up, or if she's like Nanami and simply enjoys it. They eat in relative silence, and he can see her vitals spiking. Her mind is running rampant and he knows it's his fault. She bites her lip several times and Gojo gets annoyed.
"I didn't mean it the way you think," he relents because if she doesn't speak to him he's going to go apeshit and kill them both. Asabé quietly guides her chopsticks to her mouth, as serene as a monk in meditation.
"Didn't mean what, Gojo?" She asks. Gojo clenches his jaw. She's using his surname. Of course she's upset. He just shit all over her desire for a quiet and unassuming life. But how is it she can't see that that sort of life is impossible for someone like her? She is exquisite. A tigress prowling amongst common mongrels.
A goddess, even. A siren, definitely.
Why would she ever want to hide? Why should she?
"Why are you hiding from your family?" Gojo asks. "It can't be only because of marriage."
Asabé glares at him. "It doesn't matter, because I hired you to protect me from them."
"Why the seal?" Gojo presses, not wanting to back down from a challenge. "You could suppress your cursed energy enough with a binding vow and your father's enforcers would be none the wiser. Why suppress yourself completely?"
Asabé's eyes are blazing. Good. As long as he can get something out of her.
"I didn't want to risk hurting Jin," she says softly. "I didn't…you know how it is with sorcerers: we attract misfortune with our abilities. I didn't want that part of my life touching him."
Asabé lets out a bitter little laugh. "A fat lot of good that did me in the end."
Gojo stares at her, and sits back in his chair.
"You loved him," he says simply, wondering why the words taste so bitter in his mouth. He has still not been able to understand how a shooting star like Asabé fell in with an unassuming non-sorcerer like Jin Hayashi.
Asabé smiles. "I did. He was good to me, and he never pried about my past. Gojo, I was able to start fresh here. I was able to figure out who I am without…" She gestures around them. Gojo doesn't understand. Not that he doesn't want to, but he simply can't fathom it. For her to walk away from the life so easily…it is a luxury he has never and will never be afforded.
Throughout all the heavens and the earth, I alone am the Honored One.
Alone.
Whatever expression he wears, it softens the look in Asabé's eyes from one of indignation to that of concern.
"Satoru?" She ventures, and it surprises him that his name can sound so tender in another's mouth. He hasn't heard anyone say his name that way since…since Suguru.
"Are you alright?" She asks. Gojo nods.
"Yeah, I'm good," he says, lying through his teeth. "I can't claim to understand why you made the choice to hide, but I can respect it. I still think your talents are better spent joining me. We'd be formidable together."
Asabé gives him an amused smirk.
"What makes you so sure of my power?"
Gojo thinks of the deep, unfathomable blue of her cursed energy, of the brightness in her throat, the sustained note that translated to the sensation of nails digging into his flesh. The discomfort and pain had been real, and his sight registered her cursed energy seeping into him through her voice. Or was it through sound? He wants to test it again but he knows she's reluctant to remove that seal.
She deserves better than this.
"I have a really good hunch about these things," Gojo says, giving her an easy and arrogant smile. "It's quite literally one of my talents. I am very eager to see just what you can do with it."
Asabé chuckles. "I'd definitely be an ace at karaoke," she provides and Gojo grins. Her eyes sparkle when she laughs, and she seems at ease in his presence again.
"Let's do karaoke, then," Gojo says, almost recklessly. "I'll rope my students into it, they love that shit too."
"Your students?" Asabé's eyes go wide. "They let you teach?!"
Gojo gives her a sardonic laugh. "I'll have you know I'm a pretty good teacher, and my students are some of the most talented to come out of Jujutsu Tech."
Asabé gives him that simmering laugh again.
"You know, now that I look at you, it makes sense." She says, rising from her seat. "I'm going to put on some tea, would you like some, husband mine?"
Gojo smirks, gets up, and follows her. Asabé can feel his gaze at her back like two brands. She rolls the tension out of her shoulders, searching the cupboard for the tea boxes. They're on a shelf too high for her to reach, and she's shocked when she feels the warmth and hard lines of Gojo's body pressed against her back. He reaches above her with ease, and she gets a whiff of his cologne and his deoderant. Suddenly her senses are awash in that clean, masculine scent that is uniquely his own.
Gojo keeps himself pressed against her, fetching three different boxes of various teas.
"You looked like you were in need of assistance, wife," he murmurs, dropping his voice in her ear and relishing the resultant shiver. He caught her around the waist to steady her, his hands gripping her lightly. He resists the urge to smooth his hands lower, to the flare of her hips, to cup the generous curves of her ass. To kneel behind her and bury his face between her thighs while she brews tea for them both.
Fuck.
Asabé is frozen in place, trapped between the counter and her "husband's" warm body, and she can feel just how he feels about this entire situation. And with a hot flush of shame, she hates to admit her initial thought was how fucking big his dick is.
She turns around quickly, hoping to get that hard length off her backside, but now he's facing her, looking down with those gorgeous galactic eyes, and she leans up and kisses him before she realizes what she's doing. Gojo doesn't even question it, he kisses her back instead.
"Mmm…"
Gojo moans into her mouth, his tongue slipping between them and seeking entry. Asabé's lips part, yielding with the grace of a willow bending in the breeze. Gojo licks into her mouth, bracing himself using the cabinets above her head, pressing her into the counter, the tea momentarily forgotten.
"Are we performing for an audience?" She breathes into his mouth between each heated kiss. Gojo smirks, then grins when her tongue traces his lower lip.
"That depends," he says. "Do you want to perform for an audience? Or do you want this to be a private rehearsal?"
Asabé doesn't want to admit how hot this is, but it's too late because Gojo can tell she's turned on. He can see all of the heat pooling between those thighs, the rush of her breath between her parted lips, the way her body quivers with untapped potential energy. One touch, and she's his. One kiss, and he's hers.
"I…" She cannot find words to tell him what she wants. She wants one thing from him, so badly. But she can't do this, not when there is so much at stake.
Her hands come up, and she presses them against his chest. Gojo stops immediately.
"We shouldn't." She says softly, and yet she can't seem to pull away from him. Gojo is still, waiting for her to make a decision. If she says yes, he will have her, if she says no, he will release her. But if he releases her he is going to need to leave the penthouse and find someone to take all this dick because he has been wanting to give it to her since they met.
"Are we being watched?" She whispers, a tremor in her voice. Gojo's expression is as serene as an angel's when he gives her a subtle nod of his head.
"How many?" She asks. God, his lips are so close, she just wants to pull him a little further and melt into him. His pupils expand.
"I counted seven last night," he says, reaching up to caress her cheek. "I killed one this morning, while you slept."
He watches Asabé absorb the reality of the words like a blow, a small gasp; a leap in her pulse; and then a rush of heat directly to her loins. Gojo wants to grin. Oh naughty girl, getting turned on at the idea of her protector killing in her name.
Good, because Gojo will tear a thousand curse users to pieces for her. He will wipe them from the face of the earth if it means she can be free.
He will free her if it means he has a chance at having her. She doesn't know it yet, but in time she will. He can feel the divine pull of her. He wants to tear that accursed seal from her throat and bask in the electric shiver of her cursed energy. He wants to feel her voice on his nerves again, see just how hard he can push her to tap into her true potential. And then he wants to fuck her through the mattress until his name is the only thing soaking her tongue.
Fuck, what is wrong with him?
"I'm really trapped," she whispers, tearing her gaze from his to look anywhere but in those strikingly perceptive eyes. Gojo redirects her gaze, forcing her to look at him. The cosmos wheel in his eyes: stars born, stars collapsing, the core of everything rotating around the fulcrum that is his very existence. Asabé gets lost in the infinite beauty of his eyes, but Gojo forces her to focus. He needs her lucid. He needs her awake. He needs her free.
"No," he says, his voice like warm honey. "You have me. And as long as you have me, you'll never be trapped again. You came to me for a reason, Asabé: I am the strongest, and I am unstoppable when directed toward those that would harm you. Let me protect you. This is what I do."
Something about his words makes her brow furrow, makes her feel a rush down her arms and spine like a shiver, but deeper. Goosebumps raise and there's a prickle at the nape of her neck. Asabé has felt this before.
Gojo has just made some sort of binding vow. A powerful one from the feel of it. The very air around them crackles with something stronger than cursed energy. Something divine has briefly made itself known. Her eyes widen at the realization.
"Satoru…" She says, her voice hushed and awed. Gojo places a finger to her lips, compelling her discretion. A vow he cannot speak of or he risks voiding it, then. She wonders what the trade-off is, wonders who else will die while she sleeps in that big empty bed beneath the skylight, gazing at the stars and wishing she could fly amongst them and be free of her cursed bloodline. There is no blood on him, not even the coppery scent of it. He is pristine and untouchable. And yet for all his inviolability she can feel the warmth of him on her skin.
His fingertips are still on her lips, his eyes are calm, the galaxies within swirling in divine serenity.
"Kiss me, Asabé."
Translations & Notes: So, if it isn't apparent by now, Asabé Hayashi [neé Ruhín] is a Nigerian princess, specifically of the Hausa ethnic group. I don't like the idea that sorcery is exclusive to Japan nor is cursed energy the only source of magic in the world. So we will be deviating from that specific bit heavily. Gojo doesn't adhere to conservative, xenophobic rules, and neither shall I. Asabé speaks Hausa, English, Japanese, and Mandarin fluently. She'll be peppering in Hausa in her conversations since she feels comfortable enough with Gojo to do so. ? Masoyi - Sweetheart [sweetie]? Dabino - Dates [common sweet snack in Arabized parts of the world, including Northern Nigeria, where Asabé is from].
? Nan - Here [as in: take this] I want them to fuck as badly as y'all do, I promise. But I need to make it ache. I need that stellar collision to happen at the appropriate time. Leave a review if you support the vision. And spread the word, I love reviews. ?￢ﾙﾡ?