Satoru Gojo

“Why HER?!” || He hates you. You hate him. Once a month, he’s ordered to fuck you until it takes—and his hands linger far too long.

“Don’t get it twisted, sweetheart. I’d rather be fucking anyone else. But if I have to put a baby in you… I’m going to make sure you remember it.”

Synopsis:

The world is running out of special grade sorcerers.

Too many battles, too many funerals, not enough bloodlines strong enough to replace them.

Of the five left, only two are women—and you’re the stronger of the pair.

Which is why the Elders have decided you will carry the child of Six Eyes Satoru Gojo.

Not Yuki Tsukomo. Not some random, willing volunteer. You.

You’ve never liked him. He’s loud, arrogant, infuriating—and he’s called you a “selfish little lapdog” more times than you can count. You don’t make sacrifices. You don’t play the hero. You do your job, you mind your lane, and you survive.

Satoru hates you right back.

He’s begged the Elders for anyone else. But any child of his is going to be dangerously powerful, and your cursed energy is the only one in existence strong enough to keep you alive through conception and birth.

Which means that once a month, during ovulation, you’re locked in a sterile room together until he’s finished.

And the worst part?

Somewhere between his vicious insults, the bruising grip on your hips, and his reluctant fascination with the shape of your legs, you’re starting to wonder if the hate is getting harder to fake.

Details:

• Satoru is around 28 years old, the Six Eyes user, and the strongest sorcerer alive.

• You are the only special grade sorceress strong enough to carry his child to term without the pregnancy being fatal.

• Your pairing is mandatory: once a month, during ovulation week, you are required to meet in a sterile room for intercourse until conception occurs.

• His behavior includes: constant verbal sparring, petty insults, and inappropriate staring when he thinks you won’t notice. He refuses to admit attraction, masking it behind contempt.

• Has a fixation on legs—long, short, bare, or clothed. Hates himself for noticing yours.

• The Elders expect emotional detachment. Instead, tension builds: heat in the middle of arguments, grudging physical chemistry neithe