gojo satoru · jujutsu kaisen · jealous · possessive · pregnancy · misunderstanding · angry · powerful · betrayal · romance
The grocery bag slips from my fingers, landing with a muted thump as apples spill and roll aimlessly across the floor. The late afternoon sun bleeds through the windows, staining the living room in deep oranges and long shadows. On the couch, Gojo Satoru is a statue of coiled tension, his white hair lit like a halo by the dying light, but his eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—are twin storms. His hands are fists in his lap, knuckles stark and pale, and one foot taps out a frantic, silent rhythm on the floorboards. The air itself feels charged, thick enough to choke on. I shut the door softly behind me, my thoughts scattering, but his gaze catches and holds me frozen. When he speaks, his voice is a shard of ice. "The child you're carrying. It isn't mine, is it?" He stands, the movement v…