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IF THIS WORLD WAS MINE!

If this world was mine, I'd take your dreams and make 'em multiply If this world was mine, I'd take your enemies in front of God Introduce 'em to that light, hit them strictly with that fire
Synopsis. You ran away from them after a stolen first kiss.
Including. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Megumi, Yuji, Shiu.
Risk assessment rated T. Make out and kissing, some teasing, nothing too wild I believe.
a/n: here's the text thread, always recommend reading it first!
FIRST KISS HEIST

GOJO SATORUâ"SECOND TIME'S THE CHARM (AND A BIT HOTTER)"

You barely get the front door closed before there's a whoosh of cursed energy and Gojo's suddenly inside your apartment, glasses off, eyes glinting like mischief incarnate.
"You ran from me," he says, voice a little breathless with laughter. "You kissed me, then bolted like a tax collector."
You cross your arms, but your grin betrays you. "You ambushed me!"
"I kissed you." He steps closer, fingers slipping under your chin to tilt your face up. "And you liked it."
He's cocky. Unbearably smug. So why are your knees a little weak?
You try to sass him backâ"Yeah, maybe I just tripped into it"âbut he's already kissing you again. This time it's not so innocent. It's slower, deeper, a teasing press of his lips that dare you to keep up. And you do. Your fingers tangle in his hair before you even realize it.
When he pulls back, he's grinning, eyes heavy-lidded, voice low.
"Mmm," he hums, "told you I'd collect it. And this time, no take-backs."
You're blushing. Giddy. And thoroughly out of breath. "I hate how good you are at that."
He leans in again, this time trailing a kiss to your jaw, down your neck, murmuring, "And I haven't even gotten startedâŚ"
You gasp. "Gojoâ"
"Too late. You kissed me. This is your fault."
You're half-laughing, half-melting as he walks you backwards to the couch, his grin wicked.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm just gonna make sure you never want to run away again."

GETO SUGURUâ"CAUGHT AGAIN"

He catches you again. Cornered in a quiet hallway after a long day, and for a second you think you can slide past him with a casual excuse and your dignity intact.
No such luck.
"You knowâŚ" Suguru murmurs, walking toward you with his hands lazily tucked into his coat pockets. "I was wondering if you'd ever come out of hiding."
You press your back to the wall, heart fluttering. "I wasn't hiding."
"Oh? So, you always disappear after a kiss? Should I expect that every time?"
"It wasn't just a kiss," you blurt out, flushing. "You⌠ambushed me."
"Ambushed?" His smirk grows. "Pretty, if that was an ambush, what I'm planning next is a full-blown siege."
Before you can retreat, his hands slide around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His thumb brushes your cheek. "Still shy?" he murmurs, dipping his head, voice soft but laced with heat. "Or should I kiss you until you forget how to be?"
You don't answer. You can't. He's already leaning in, slow enough to give you a choiceâfast enough that you're dizzy with anticipation.
And when your lips meet this time, it's not tentative or quick. It's claiming. Your fingers curl into his shirt, and his mouth moves with practiced patience that drives you wildâwarm, deep, devastating. His free hand cups the back of your head, keeping you close like he's starving and you're the only thing he wants to taste.
When he finally pulls away, you're breathless. He studies your lips like he just painted them himself.
"There," he says smugly. "Now you can go hide again. But I will find you."
Your knees wobble as you backpedal, trying to collect your soul off the floor. Geto just chuckles and leans against the wall, calling after you:
âNext time, donât wear that lip gloss unless you want me to ruin it again.â

NANAMI KENTOâ"YOU STARTED IT"

You kiss him in a moment of reckless courage, too quick and too softâjust a brush of your lips against hisâand then, without even looking back, you bolt like your life depends on it.
Nanami doesn't chase you.
He just stands there, fingers still gripping the report you handed him, eyes narrowing like he's re-evaluating his entire day⌠and maybe his entire life.
And now, hours later, he finds youâcurled up in the corner of the office lounge with a book you're definitely not reading.
"You forgot this," he says, holding out your water bottle.
You flinch. "Thanks."
A long pause. Then:
"Is it going to be like this every time?"
"âŚWhat?"
"The kiss," Nanami says evenly. "Do I need to prepare for whiplash every time you get bold?"
Your face burns. "I don'tâI didn't mean toâIt just kind of happenedâ"
He takes two stride toward you and you immediately tense, heart pounding in your chest like a fire drill.
"I didn't say I minded," he murmurs, gaze flicking to your lips. "But I think next time, you should stay."
Your breath catches when his hand grazes your cheek, thumb tracing lightly over your jaw. And when he leans in this time, it's not rushed or panicked. It's deliberate. Grounded. His mouth meets yours with quiet intensity, lips warm and sure and slow, like he's trying to memorize you.
You melt. Against his chest, into his kiss, into the space between you that suddenly feels infinite.
When he pulls back, his voice is a low rumble near your ear.
"No more running."
You nod weakly. "Okay."
"⌠Unless it's to my place."
"Nanamiâ"
He smirks. Just barely. But it's there.

FUSHIGURO TOJIâ"COME BACK HERE"

The kiss happens fast. One second you're bickering, the next you're yanking his shirt down and kissing him. A heartbeat later, your eyes widen like you've just committed a felony. You gasp. And then you run.
"Toji, Iâ!"
You're gone before he can blink. And he just stands there, blinking slowly, like huh.
And then?
He grins.
"Cute," he mutters, cracking his neck. "She's lucky I love a chase."
â
He finds you ten minutes later, tucked behind a storage shelf in some deserted corridor like a gremlin.
He's quiet when he appears, leaning against the wall like he's got all the time in the world, arms crossed and that smirk carved right into his stupidly handsome face.
"You good?" he drawls. "Heart rate stable again? Wanna try that kiss one more time without running?"
You can feel the heat up to your ears immediately. "You weren't supposed to like it."
"Oh, sweets," he grins, walking towards you, eyes glinting, "you think I've been imagining not kissing you back?"
He corners you against the wall, forearms bracketing your head, his mouth dropping close to yours. "Next time you kiss me, you better be ready for what happens after."
You stammer something in defense, but it's lost the second he kisses you.
It's not soft. Not shy. It's himâhungry and dominant and possessive, one big hand gripping your thigh, the other tilting your jaw just the way he likes. You can barely keep up with the heat of it, the teeth, the tongue, the growl of his voice when you whimper into him.
"You got one chance to run," he murmurs against your mouth.
You don't move.
"Good choice."

SHIU KONGâ"YOU KISSED ME AND RAN"

It happens like a car crash.
You're mid-argumentâheated, flirty, whatever it is you and Shiu do that always ends in someone looking flustered and someone else looking smugâand suddenly⌠you snap.
You grab his collar, tug him in, and kiss him.
It's soft, surprisingly so. Warm. Real. And when you realize what you've done, you panic.
You bolt.
He doesn't even moveâhe just stands there, hand hovering near where you'd touched him, lips parted slightly in surprise. For once, Shiu Kong is speechless.
"âŚHuh."
â
You spend the next half hour spiraling in a quiet corner, texting him and threatening to change your name. So you don't hear him until he's right there again.
"Are you done being dramatic?" he asks, amused. "Or should I come back after you've faked your own death?"
You groan and hide your face. "You're not supposed to find me."
"Yeah, and you're not supposed to kiss me and run, but we're apparently both breaking rules today."
He's close. Too close. You feel the warmth of him before you see the glint in his eyes.
"I didn't plan it," you mutter. "I panicked."
He hums. "Well. Panic better next time."
Then he leans inâsmooth, confidentâ and brushes his mouth over yours again. Slower. More controlled. The kind of kiss that makes you melt straight down to your knees.
He pulls back barely an inch. Smirks. "See? No running. Proud of you."
You smack his arm. He laughs, catching your wrist, stealing one more kiss like it's nothing.
But it's something.
Because Shiu doesn't kiss people twice unless he already sure he's going to want a third.

RYOMEN SUKUNAâ"MINE, AND YOU KNEW IT"

You thought you could get away with it.
A soft, impulsive kiss. Heat of the moment. His mouth was right there, he was looking at you with that unholy, devastating hunger and you thoughtâ
"Screw it."
So you kissed him. You kissed Sukuna.
And thenâyou ran.
But not fast enough.
The air feels different when he finds youâcharged, violent, like the moment before lighting hits. You turn, heart pounding, and there he is. Eyes burning. Smirk razor-sharp. Power rolling off like a storm.
"You kissed me," he says, voice low and terrifyingly calm. "And ran."
"Sukuna, Iâ"
"No." He's in front of you now. One blink and your back's against the wall, his body towering yours, caging you, hand braced beside your head. "You don't get to run. You don't get to touch me like that and disappear."
"I panickedâ"
"You know what you were doing," he growls. "You kissed me because you wanted to. Because you've been wanting to. And nowâ"
His mouth crash against yours.
It's nothing like the kiss you gave him. This one is brutal, consuming. He kisses like he wants to brand the memory into your bones. Tongue, teeth, a low growl vibrating in his throat as his hand fists in your shirt.
You're breathless when he pulls back. He's panting too, eyes blown wide and wild, lips slick from yours.
"You ever run from me again," he whispers, voice hoarse, "I'll make sure your legs never work after I'm done kissing you."
Your brain shorts out. Your knees wobble.
And Sukuna grins, feral. "That's better."

ITADORI YUJIâ"RUNAWAY KISSER"

You don't mean to run after kissing him.
It just⌠happens.
One second, you're looking at his pretty mouth and laughing at his dumb joke, and the nextâyour lips are on his. It's sweet. Barely two seconds. But it's warm and real and Yuji blinks at you like you just granted him three wishes.
So you do what any sane, overwhelmed person would do.
You bolt.
But not fast enough.
Even after texting and running as fast as you canâhe was right there. "HEYâ" you hear behind you. "WAIT!! I WANNA KISS YOU TOO!!!"
You don't get far. Yuji's fasterâof course he is. He catches up just as you read the stairs, and suddenly his arms are around you, spinning you into a squeaky little gasp-laugh before he sets you down.
His face is flushed pink, but his smile is pure sunshine.
"You kissed me," he says breathlessly. "I've been waiting for you to do that."
"I panicked," you mumble.
"I loved it," he beams.
And then he kisses youâfully, firmly, with both hands cupping your cheeks and a sweet little hum in his throat. Like he's been saving it. Like he's sealing a promise.
You melt. Instantly.
"You're not running again, right?" he asks as you lean into him.
"No," you whisper. "Definitely not."
"Good," he grins. "Because I have at least, like, twenty more kisses saved up."

FUSHIGURO MEGUMIâ"CAUGHT YOU"

You weren't supposed to kiss him. You were just going to say good night.
But Megumi looked soft. He leaned against your doorframe, hair mussed, eyes heavy with sleepâand something in you jumped. A rush of affection. A surge of nerves. And suddenly you were kissing himâquick, tentativeâ
And running.
Not far. Just out the door. Down the hall. Heart thudding like a criminal while you hid behind a wall. You barely make it three steps further after the texts before a hand closes around your wrist.
"You're not getting away with that," Megumi says.
He doesn't sound mad. He doesn't even sound surprised.
You turn slowly, breath caught, eyes wide as his fingers slip from your wrist to your hand, tugging gently.
"You kissed me," he says quietly. "You don't get to vanish like that."
You open your mouth to apologize, to make a joke, to say anythingâ
But he's already kissing you.
And it's so different from yours. Slower. Intentional. His hand is on your waist, the other brushing your cheek, and the kiss deepens like he's waited forever for this moment. His lips part yours with a quiet insistence that makes your knees go soft.
When he pulls back, just barely, his voice is low against your lips.
"If you run again, I'm dragging you back."
"⌠Okay," you breathe.
"Good."
He kisses you againâthis time with a smug little smirk that definitely means you're not going anywhere

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FIRST KISS HEIST!

Synopsis. You ran away from them after a stolen first kiss.
Including. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Megumi, Yuji, Shiu.
Risk assessment rated T. Make out and kissing, some teasing, nothing too wild I believe.
a/n: the following drabble per usual it's here:
IF THIS WORLD WAS MINE

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First Date: Choso
Choso â Bloody Hands and Soft Hearts
You didnât expect someone like Choso to ask you on a date.
Not because he wasnât kindâhe was. Fiercely so. But because he always seemed like someone who had more important things to worry about. Brothers to protect. Grief to carry. And a lifetime of pain etched into the curve of his spine.
But one day, after a shared mission and a long silence, he looked at you and asked, âWould you spend some time with me? Not for a job. Just⌠for me.â
You said yes before he could second-guess himself.
He didnât take you anywhere flashy. No big plans. He simply invited you to an abandoned train platform where heâd set out an old rug, a few cushions, and a small lantern that glowed softly against the night.
âI donât know what normal people do,â he admitted, sitting beside you. âBut this place is quiet. And I like it.â
You looked around. Crickets in the distance. Distant city lights. A sky full of stars that didnât judge.
âI like it too.â
He pulled out two drinksâone for you, one for himâand a small box of onigiri. âI made these. Or tried.â
You took a bite. Messy, a little uneven, but made with care. You smiled. âItâs perfect.â
He stared at you like he didnât quite believe you were real. âYou donât mind that Iâm⌠not normal?â
âWho gets to decide what ânormalâ is?â
He blinked slowly, like that was the first time someone had ever said that to him.
The night went on. He told you about his brothers, about his confusion, his grief, the way his memories of being human felt like distant echoes. You told him about your life tooâyour fears, your guilt, the things you never thought anyone would listen to.
And he did listen. With his whole soul.
At one point, you reached over and took his hand. He flinchedâjust a little. His hands were cold, calloused, stained in more ways than one.
But you held on anyway.
âYouâre allowed to have soft things too, Choso,â you whispered.
His eyes shimmeredânot from sadness, but something heavier and lighter all at once.
âI want to be good,â he said, voice rough. âFor you.â
âYou already are.â
And then he leaned inânot rushed, not confident, just hopefulâand kissed you like he was afraid youâd disappear the moment he touched you.
You didnât disappear.
You stayed.
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ââlittle things like this
a/n. just something small i felt like writing đŤśđť what i imagine grocery shopping with satoru would be like.
cw. domestic fluff. dad! satoru. husband! satoru. and just... satoru being satoru. also, he's missing you (like, a lot).
You shouldâve known better than to bring him.
It was supposed to be a quick tripâmilk, eggs, veggies, rice, soy sauce. Easy. You had dinner planned and everything. His favoriteâthe one he always says you make better than anyone. The one he begged you to cook the first night he stayed over, back when you were still figuring each other out in that too-small apartment with the broken stove and mismatched bowls. He used to sit barefoot on the counter, freshly showered, stealing bites before you could plate anything.
But now?
Now youâre married to Satoru Gojo, and heâs pushing your daughter through a grocery store like itâs the highlight of his weekâsunglasses shoved into his windblown white hair, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a smug grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Heâd just come off a string of missions, barely enough time to breathe between them, but when you mentioned needing to grab a few things, he immediately offered to come. Said he missed you. Said he wanted to do ânormal stuff.â
Which mightâve sounded sweet, sureâuntil somewhere between produce and frozen foods, he completely veered off-script. And now, fifteen minutes in, your cart is a sugar bomb. Sour gummies. Five flavors of Pocky. A jumbo bag of marshmallows no one in your household has ever requested.
Though here he is, your husband, pushing your cart with one hand, lighting up in pure joy at every little treat you come across through the aisles.
âSatoru GojoâŚâ you deadpan as he reaches for a pack of cookies. âThat is not on the list.â
Clicking his tongue, he holds them up like a sacred offering.
âBuuut⌠neither were you,â he hums, batting those ridiculously pretty blue eyes. âAnd yetâbest thing I ever brought home.â
Narrowing your eyes, he smirks.
ââtoruâŚâ you sigh. âI really donât think we need more sugar in this cart.â
Tilting his head, he pretends to ponder. âNeed? âŚnah,â he tosses them in the basket anyway. âBut, deserve? Absolutely.â
Rolling your eyes, you turn back to the list on your phone. You have⌠whatâthree items checked off? Youâre pretty sure Satoru has added at least seven more. And, he seems to be multiplying his haul by the minute.
As you make your way down the next aisle, your daughterâs delighted squeal draws your attention. Glancing over your shoulder, there is Satoruâholding up two bags of candy to her like a game show host.
âMmkay princess⌠choose wisely,â he whispers, low and dramatic. âRed or blue. You get one.â
Babbling, her little hands reach forward, grasping for the blue one.
âAhhh⌠strong choice,â he nods, handing it over. And then, with zero shame, he drops the red bag into the cart behind her back.
âAhemâŚâ you squint, and he straightens. âYou said one?â
âWhat? She picked hers,â he says, all innocence, sliding his sunglasses down onto the bridge of his nose. âThis oneâs mine.â
You groan, laughing despite yourself, as he resumes pushing the cartânow like itâs a racecar, swerving down the aisle while your daughter giggles.
âPlease donât teach her to shop like you,â you call out.
âToo late~â he sing-songs, vanishing around the corner, muttering under his breath, âDrifting into dairy⌠snack thrusters engagedâŚâ
You sighâbut thereâs no real frustration in it. Just warmth. Familiarity. Love.
Because sometimes you forgetâyouâre not in that cramped apartment anymore, counting coins and comparing brands. Not since Satoru. You still catch yourself reaching for the cheapest option, still instinctively scan barcodes and double-check price tags. But he never even looks. He just fills the cart like itâs second nature. Like full shelves and soft snacks and mochi picked on a whim are things you deserve.
Youâre still learning how to live like thisâwhere love doesnât feel like a debt, and money isnât something to fear. And even though he could buy out the entire store without blinking, he still treats picking out snacks with you like itâs the most important thing heâll do all week.
Shaking your head, you turn back to the list. Soy sauce. You still need soy sauce for his dinner.
But as you round the corner, you donât find the aisle youâre looking forâyou find him instead, crouched in front of the freezer, elbows resting on his knees, two tubs of ice cream in hand.
Why is he studying them like heâs trying to defuse a bomb? He looks⌠entirely perplexed.
âSatoruâŚâ you step up beside him, brow raised. âYou good?â
âOh. Yeah.â He doesnât look up. âJust, uh⌠evaluating options.â
Glancing down at the tubsâmatcha and black sesameâyou fold your arms.
âUmm⌠you evaluating them for fun, or is this, like, an actual crisis?â
âMmm⌠crisis is a strong word,â he mutters, still avoiding your gaze. âItâs just⌠strategy. Yâknow. Ice cream strategy.â
Crouching down beside him, you rest your hand on his knee.
âUh-huhâŚ?â
Thereâs a pause.
Then, he sighs through his nose. âAlright⌠fine. I⌠couldnât remember which one you liked more,â he admits. âI thought it was matcha. But then I remembered that one week you wouldnât touch it, so now Iâm stuck here like a dumbass, spiraling in the frozen aisleâŚâ
You try not to laugh. âYouâre spiraling over ice cream?â
âIâm spiraling because itâs you,â he huffs. âI wanted to surprise you⌠thought maybe we could stay up late and eat it in bed like we used to?â
Your teasing slips away, replaced with something soft.
âOh⌠Satoru.â
He shrugs, like itâs no big deal, but thereâs something in the way his voice lowers when he speaks again.
âI just⌠dunno. It feels like itâs been forever. Between missions, work, parentingâyouâve been running around nonstop. I just wanted tonight to feel kinda normal again. After dinnerâafter the princes goes to bed. Just⌠us? Even if itâs just ice cream.â
You watch him for a beatâyour husband, who can bend reality, stand at the edge of the world, and still get hung up over picking the right tub of ice cream for you.
âI⌠like them both,â you mumble, bumping his shoulder gently against yours. âSo why not both?â
He exhales like it physically relieves him. âOh, thank god.â
You both stand, and without hesitation, he tosses both tubs into the basket.
âBut⌠donât go picking at mine and then pretending you didnât like that flavor, okay?â
Grinning, you step ahead of him.
âOh, I will steal yours. Thatâs marriage, babe.â
With a quiet laugh, he falls into step behind you.
âBrat.â
By the time you reach checkout, your cart holds three kinds of mochi ice cream, a suspiciously large bag of seaweed snacks, and absolutely no bread. Your daughterâs holding her bag of candy like itâs a stuffed animal, fussing while you try to scan it, and youâre juggling a reusable bag, along with whatâs left of your patience while she begins to cry.
Noticing your frustration, Satoru slips in, insisting on scanning everything himselfâfor you. But when the self-checkout machine beeps loudly, his brows furrow and he pouts.
âThe fuck? I did scan the damn carrotsâŚâ he mutters, narrowing his eyes, fumbling with the touch screen. âDonât gaslight me... stupid thing..."
You sigh, somehow his presence makes the monotony feel⌠warm. And though this âquick tripâ has become what feels like an all-day event, you canât deny how much you have also missed this man.
Outside, the air is soft with the promise of evening. Your daughterâs nodding off in her car seat, still hugging the candy bag like a teddy bear. Satoru loads the bags into the trunk with a proud little huff, dusting off his hands like heâs accomplished something huge.
âSee?â he says, flashing a grin as he climbs into the passenger seat. âTold you grocery shopping as a family would be fun.â
You glance at the receipt. Then at him.
âYou spent more in the snack aisle than on actual foodâŚ.â
âI live off sugar and love. You know this.â
You roll your eyes, laughing under your breath as you slide into the driverâs seat. But as you buckle your seatbelt and glance down at the grocery list again, your heart sinks a little.
Did you� Fuck.
You forgot the soy sauce.
Exhaling slowly, your gaze drifts over to Satoru in the passenger seatâslouched comfortably, eyes closed, perfectly content. The fading sun glows across his face, catching the edges of his smile.
âYâknow⌠I was gonna make your favorite tonight.â
His eyes open slowly. âOh yeah?â
You nod. âBut⌠we forgot the soy sauce.â
"...oh." He grimaces, genuinely. âShit⌠I really thought I grabbed it,â he scratches the back of his head. âWant me to run back in real quick?â
You pause, then look at your daughter sleeping in the rearview mirror. Her gentle snore. The quiet hum of the car. The warmth in the air.
âNoâŚâ you murmur. âItâs fine.â
âYou sure?â
You look at him again, and it hits youânot the ice cream, not the dinner. Little things like⌠this. Him. Her. This whole imperfect evening.
âYeah⌠letâs get takeout,â you say, shifting the car into reverse. âWe'll cuddle in bed. Split some ice cream.â
He smiles again, slow and warm.
âDeal.â

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I, I Love You Like A Love Song, Baby! ę° â˘â¸â¸â¸â¸â¸â¸â¸â˘ ęą
âYou say âI love youâ for the first time! đ§â
đ° CafĂŠ Menu đ°
Includes: Gojo, Geto, Shoko, Nanami, Sukuna, Choso, Ino, and Noritoshi








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Kissing lessons ~ C.K.
Pairing: Choso Kamo x reader
Summary: Choso had been learning what it was like to be human for a while now but what you didnât expect was for him to ask you to teach him how to kiss.
CW (content warning): heavy kissing if you can call it that, clueless Choso, nothing really this is pure fluff once again!
AN (authorâs note): Hello again! Iâm so glad that you liked my Megumi one-shot, Iâm currently working on a Yuji one and some Geto headcannons that I plan on publishing this week. English is not my first language and Iâm typing this on my phone so Iâm sorry if there are any typos or mistakes. This one was supposed to be a short drabble but I think I got a bit carried away again hahahah enjoy and let me know what you think! :)
Requests are open so feel free to send them my way! (you can check the character list on my pinned post)
âWould you teach me how to kiss?â Choso sat nervously, fidgeting with the rings that adorned fingers. He couldn't believe he had grown bold enough to ask this. Learning to kiss? It sounded like something so clichĂŠ, straight out of a crappy romance movie that he once had seen on TV with you on a lazy Saturday afternoon. It was so unlike him but it had been nagging him for a while.
You reached out and placed a reassuring hand on top Choso's, squeezing it reassuringly as a comforting smile formed on your face. The gesture made him look up, meeting your warm gaze with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "I've never done anything like this before. What if I mess up? What if Iâm horrible at it?" He asked a bit anxiously.
Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Choso leaned in slowly, his lips hanging tentatively a few inches from yours. He could feel the heat of your breath against his skin, sending shivers down his spine as he fought to suppress the butterflies fluttering in his stomach.
"Like this? Is this position is okay?" He whispered, his fingers grabbing your chin for a moment before pulling away.
âYes thatâs okay.â You reassured him, your voice was gentle as you looked kindly at him.
He pulled away slightly, a light pink dust adorned his face as he looked down at his lap. He had been the one to ask me to teach me everything about being human, wanting to fully understand what it was like to live as one, but you had never expected it to come to this. When he had asked you if you could teach him how to kiss you were absolutely stunned and yet here you were, sitting across from him on the floor of your apartmentâs livingroom.
âChoâŚâ You called out to him softly, using the sweet nickname that he had grown so fond of, making him look up at you, although it was only momentarily because he avoided your gaze once again. âWe donât have to do this if you donât want to, itâs completely fine.â
Choso's eyes flickered up to meet yours for a brief moment before darting away again. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he struggled to find the right words. "No, no... I want to do this," he finally managed to get the words out, his voice low and trembling slightly. "I... I just don't know how... It's difficult, I donât really know how to explain it but I want to do this."
He took a deep breath and forced himself to meet your gaze again, his eyes was now filled with a mixture of embarrassment, determination, and vulnerability. "Please... I'd like to learn.. from you." He breathed out.
âFrom youâ his words echoed inside your head, they made heat rush to your face and a pink hue that matched his appeared on your face. The truth was that you had grown to like Choso, not just as a friend. You didnât even know when it started, maybe it was when the two of you started to spend more time together once you started teaching him things, maybe it was when you saw him taking care of Yuji the one time he had fell sick or when he came to your apartment with a bag full of your favourite snacks because you had a bad day at work. The way he was adorably innocent, eager to learn, the way he cared about his little brother and how gentle he was. Everything about him made you feel drawn to him and before you could realise it you had developed feelings for the half-curse sitting in front of you.
Your heart pounded inside your chest, you knew he trusted you but wasnât it as if you were taking advantage of him by doing this? Maybe you should really back down, let him do this with someone he had feelings for, even though the thought made something in your chest twist.
âAre you sure?â You asked him once again âYour first kiss should be important, itâs supposed to be something meaningful, you could wait to ask someone you truly like and want to do this withâ
Choso's heart skipped a beat as he noticed the pink hue on your face. He wasn't sure what it meant, but he couldn't help but wonder if it was a result of his words or something else entirely. An unknown feeling bubbling inside him at the thought.
He nodded his head, his determination stronger than before. "Yes, I'm sure." He responded, his voice firm but still tinged with nervousness. He swallowed hard, trying to gather the courage to say his next thoughts aloud. "I... you're the one I trust the most. I want to learn from you. I want my first kiss.... to be with you."
His words along with the look in his eyes when they met yours almost made your heart give our right that instant.
âOkayâŚâ You breathed out as you slowly nodded, trying to gather your thoughts and keep your feelings somewhat at bay.
You paused for a moment, breathing deeply before speaking once again âYou can put your hand on my face, just like you did beforeâ You instructed him softly.
He did just as you said, placing his hand on your face, gently caressing your cheek. Choso's hand trembled slightly as he placed it on your face, his touch light and tentative yet tender. He caressed your cheek gently, his fingers barely grazing your skin as if he was afraid he'd hurt you.
His heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to maintain his composure. "Like this...?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes were fixed on your face, taking in every detail, every tiny movement. He wanted to memorize this moment, lock it away in his memory.
âYes, thatâs goodâ You breathed out, he felt as if his heart would burst out of his chest with how hard it was beating.
You were hyper aware of every movement he made now, he was so close that you could almost feel his breath on your skin. âNow you have to lean inâŚâ You kept on instructing him, trying to keep your voice from trembling. Your whole body tingled with anticipation.
Choso nodded in response to your instructions, his heart racing as he leaned in closer. His face was now just inches from yours, his eyes fixed on your lips.
He could feel the heat radiating off of you, and the scent of your perfume infiltrated his senses. He swallowed hard, trying to calm his nerves, but his fingers were visibly shaking.
"Should I... close my eyes?" He whispered, his breath brushing against your skin.
âMhmmâ You hummed affirmatively in response âYou close them once the kiss startsâ And he did just that, he leaned in, his lips almost brushing yours, merely millimetres separating them. âYou can just follow me and do what feels right to you okay?â You said right before the space between you.
Choso nodded, his heart pounding in his chest as he felt your breath tease his lips. The anticipation was almost too much to handle, and yet he couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement coursing through his veins.
"Okay..." He whispered, his voice barely audible.
With bated breath, he closed the remaining distance between them, his lips brushing yours in a tentative, gentle kiss. It was chaste, soft, and a little bit clumsy, but it was everything Choso had hoped for.
For a moment, it was as if the world around the two of had disappeared once his lips met yours. The kiss might have been soft and a bit clumsy at first but it made your heart swell inside your chest like never before.
Choso seemed to get a bit more comfortable and confident, making the kiss deeper and moving the hand that had been resting on the side of your face, caressing it, to the back of your neck, tangling his fingers on your hair, making a shock of electricity run down your spine at the feeling. His other arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him, making you end up on top of his lap, straddling him as you wrapped my arms around his neck.
When you finally pulled apart, Choso didnât let go of you, he kept his arm on your waist, holding you tightly keeping you flush against him and his hand on the back of your neck.
The both of you breathed heavily. âThat wasâŚâ You trailed off as you tried to catch your breath.
Choso's grip on your waist tightened, as if he was afraid you would pull away from him. He leaned his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged and heavy as he tried to catch his breath. "That was... amazing," he whispered, his voice hoarse yet filled with awe.
He could still feel the lingering sensation of your lips against his, the way your body pressed against his, the way your hair felt under his fingers.
"I... I never knew it could feel like that..." He murmured, his eyes still fixed on your face, as if trying to memorize every single detail.
You were about to say something else but then Choso moved his hand, without saying a word grabbing yours and placing it over his chest right where his heart was. You could feel his heart hammering underneath your fingertips.
You pulled away slightly, to be able to look at him. What you found was a look of pure longing in his eyes before he spoke. âIt always does this, whenever youâre around.â He whispered, keeping your hand on his chest. âWhenever I see you it picks up sand I get this funny feeling, when you smile or laugh it just makes me so happy but on the days that we canât hang out I just feel so lonely and sad, even when Iâm with other people like Yujiâ
Every word he said made your heart skip a beat and your were almost sure that you were going to faint. âWhat does it mean?â He asked looking at you. âWhy do I feel like this.â
âIâŚâ You mumbled, completely dumbfounded. âI think thatâs what people feel like when they love someoneâ You managed to say.
âLoveâŚâ He said, as if he was tasting the word on his lips. He had seen his fair share of romantic movies with both you and Yuji, he had seen how the protagonists in them talked about their feelings for each other and when he thought about it he realised that even that paled in comparison to how he felt when he was with you. âYeah I think Iâm in love with you.â
Right as those words slipped past his lips the world around you seemed to stop moving completely. âIâŚâ You stammed, trying to think of what to say. âThis isnât something you just say lightly, you have to be sure about it, you have to-â But then you were cut off by his lips.
He kissed you more confidently than before, his grip on you tightened even though it was impossible to pull you even closer. He pulled apart just barely after a little while. âYes, Iâm pretty sure I love you.â He whispered before bringing his lips back to yours.
He kissed you time and time again, until he finally let you tell you that you felt the same. Pretty safe to say that Choso Kamo was definitely a fast learner.
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LAW OF ATTRACTION - GOJO SATORU
summary. Newton said the smaller the distance, the stronger the pull. Gojo Satoru thinks that explains the way he feels when youâre close.
word count. 18.2k (i need help)
content. mdni, fem!reader, college au, nerd! gojo, simp gojo supremacy, fluff, banter, tensionnnn, pet names, he's so down bad it's actually pathetic, teasing, smut, male mast., oral (male + fem rec), cum eating, face sitting, p in v, mating press, slight hair pulling, praise, swearing, light dumbification (just a lil), tit play, overstim, creampie, aftercare, pillow talk
author's note. fashionably late (?) to the trend BUT HERE WE ARE
Gojo Satoru is already arguing with the professor.
The classroom smells like coffee and too-new textbooks, the kind of sterile atmosphere that clings to the first week of university. Half the students arenât even paying attention yet, still easing into the rhythm of things. But not him.
Gojo stands tall near the front, hands in the pockets of his pressed slacks, sweater vest and button-up perfectly in place, thick-rimmed glasses pushed up the bridge of his nose. His snowy hair is perfectly messy, his posture relaxedâalmost bored.
âIâm just saying,â he drawls, voice smooth and annoyingly self-assured, âyou canât talk about general relativity without at least addressing gravitational time dilation. Not if you want to keep your credibility.â
Thereâs a beat of silence. Someone in the back stifles a laugh.
The professor straightens her notes. âWeâll get there, Gojo.â
âSure,â he says, unbothered, but thereâs a glint in his cerulean eyes. âBut isnât it a little irresponsible to feed undergrads simplified versions of reality? Weâre not children.â
âYouâre barely adults,â the professor mutters under her breath.
And just when it seems like heâs winding up for another volleyâanother casually devastating critique thatâll make the professorâs eye twitchâthe door opens with a quiet creak.
âSorry Iâm late.â
The room stills.
You step inside, backpack slung over one shoulder, sunlight catching in your hair like some perfectly staged movie scene. You arenât frazzled or apologeticâjust calm, composed, like this is your class and everyone else is simply borrowing space in it.
Gojo turns. And forgets how to speak.
He doesnât recognize you even though heâs memorized everyoneâs faces during the orientation. But yours is unfamiliar. Distractingly so. And in that moment, standing half-turned at the front of the classroom, he is completely, totally, undeniably wrecked. His mouth parts slightly. No sound comes out.
The professor clears her throat. âTry to be on time next class.â
You nod easily. âOf course. Wonât happen again.â
Gojoâs eyes follow you as you make your way to an empty seatâhis row. The one he claimed early on for optimal note-taking and strategic interruption placement. And of course, because the universe clearly enjoys watching him suffer, you pick the seat right beside his.
He doesnât move. Doesnât sit. Just watches as you settle in beside him and flip open your notebook like nothingâs happened. Like you didnât just reset the laws of gravity around his universe.
âGojo?â the professor prompts from the front.
He startles. âHuh? Ohâyeah. I mean, yes. Sorry.â
Silence stretches as the lecture resumes. Gojo Satoruâs foot bounces beneath the desk. His fingers twitch like they want to scribble something but forgot how pens work.
He chances a glance at you from the corner of his eye. Youâre taking notes, completely unfazed. Like you havenât just walked into his orbit and thrown everything off-axis.
-
Itâs quiet in the library. The kind of quiet that almost feels sacred, broken only by the occasional rustle of paper or the soft click of a keyboard. Youâre tucked away at a corner table, head down, headphones in, completely immersed in your reading.
Gojo spots you the moment he steps in. He hadnât meant to come hereâphysics homework was the last thing on his mind todayâbut the second he saw you seated, that changed. Suddenly, heâs very interested in gravitational lensing and quantum field theories.
He chooses the table diagonally across from yours. Not directly oppositeâthat would be too obvious. But just close enough that he can sneak glances without it being weird. Probably.
He flips open a textbook. Doesnât read a single word. Just peeks at you over the top of the page like a little nerdy menace in disguise. Every time you adjust your hair or furrow your brows or smile faintly at something you read, itâs like heâs been hit in the chest. Repeatedly.
Then you look up.
He freezes. Straightens up. Pretends to be deeply fascinated by a diagram of a particle collider. You blink. Tilt your head a little. Thenâyou pull your headphones out. âGojo Satoru, right?â
He almost drops his pen. âUhâyeah. Thatâs me.â
âYouâve been staring at page fifteen for like⌠twenty minutes.â
He blinks. Looks down at his book. Flips it to page thirty-seven. âRight. Yeah. Thatâs, uhâintentional.â
You smile. âSure it is.â
He wants to melt into the carpet.
You go back to your notes, sliding your headphones on again like itâs nothing. But that smile doesnât leave your face. And Gojoâs certain heâll be thinking about it for the rest of the week.
-
You're sitting under the tree near the physics building, nose buried in your laptop, headphones on, pretending you donât feel someone staring at you. You do. Of course you do.
You glance up. Heâs there.
Gojo, the cocky know-it-all from class. Still in that damned sweater vest, hair all floofy like he just rolled out of a nap and somehow made it fashion. Heâs holding a coffee cup with one hand and awkwardly adjusting his glasses with the other, pretending like he just happened to pass by. He absolutely did not.
You blink. He panics.
âOh. Uhâhey,â he says, and it comes out a little too loud, a little too fast, like his vocal cords staged a mutiny the second your eyes met.
You slide your headphones down. âHi.â
Thereâs a long pause. He fidgets with the sleeve of his shirt, eyes flicking everywhere but your face now. âYou, uh⌠You always sit here?â
You raise an eyebrow. âDuring this exact 30-minute window between classes? Yeah. Kinda my thing.â
âOh,â he says, and laughsânervously. âCoolcoolcool. I justâuh. I just thought you looked like someone who enjoys differential equations under tree shade.â
You squint. âYouâre making fun of me.â
âWhat? No! IâI do that too. All the time. Big tree guy. Huge⌠leaf enjoyer.â
Thereâs a beat of silence. You bite back a laugh. âYou good?â
âI was,â he mumbles, almost to himself, then louder: âYeah! Iâm totallyâso good. Amazing, even.â
You give him a look. He clears his throat and tries again. âListen, I didnât get your name earlier, and thatâs kind of a crime in several countries, probably. SoâŚâ
You pause, then finally tell him.
He repeats it under his breath like a prayer. âPretty.â
You tilt your head at him, teasing. âSo⌠was there a reason you were looking at me in class? Or is staring at people just part of your regular schedule?â
He flinches. Like, visibly. Adjusts his glasses again even though theyâre already perfectly in place. âStaring is a strong word.â
âYou choked on air.â
He groans, half-laughing, half-dying inside. âOkayâyeah, that⌠may have happened. But in my defense, I didnât know I was capable of being that flustered until you walked in.â
Your eyebrows lift. âYou were flustered?â
âFatally,â he replies without missing a beat. âIt was the most embarrassing moment of my entire academic career. And I once accidentally called a professor âdadâ in front of the entire cohort, so.â
You snort. âNo you didnât.â
âUnfortunately, I did. That man never looked at me the same again.â
You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. Thereâs something kind of charming about the contrastâhow sharp and smug he is in the lecture hall, then how weirdly dorky he gets the second he talks to you.
Gojo notices the smile. He lights up. âThatâs a win, right?â he grins. âThat counts as a win?â
You roll your eyes. âBarely.â
âStill counts,â he sings, rocking back on his heels. âYou like coffee?â
You blink. âThatâs random.â
âI just thoughtâmaybe next time I bring one, I could bring you one too. You know. If weâre both going to be professionally loitering under this tree during our thirty-minute window.â
You pretend to think about it. âWhat kind?â
âWhatever kind makes you smile again.â
You pause. Okay. That was smooth.
You look away, just for a second, to hide the grin threatening to take over your whole face.
âYouâre annoying,â you mutter.
He beams. âYouâre not the first to say that.â
You part ways not long after, the building just a few steps ahead, and Gojoâs still standing where you left himâhands in his pockets, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, hair gleaming like spun silver in the sunlight.
You steal one last glance as you walk away, andâyep. Heâs still watching you.
Still smiling like he knows something you donât.
And just when you think youâve escaped unscathed, you hear his voice call after you: âBy the way, if you keep looking at me like that, I will ask for your number next time!â
You donât turn around. You canât. Your cheeks are already on fire.
But he laughs, bright and victorious, and you know he saw the way you tripped on the curb a second later. Cocky bastard.
And yet⌠youâre smiling the whole walk to class.
-
Youâre seated a few rows back this time. Thought it might help with the whole not staring directly at Gojo Satoru like he invented astrophysics problem.
It doesnât.
Not when heâs in his usual seat up front, one leg crossed over the other, sleeves pushed to his elbows like heâs here to work. Glasses low on his nose. A pen between his fingers that he keeps spinningâcasually, like itâs no big deal heâs also kind of stupidly good at everything.
The professor drones on at the front of the room, explaining quantum field theory, but youâre only half-listening.
Because Gojo raises his hand. Again.
âActually, thatâs not entirely accurate,â he says, voice way too smooth for a know-it-all. âIf you factor in the renormalization group flow, the outcome shifts entirely. I can show you if you want.â
She blinks. âI⌠well. Thatâs a fair point, Gojo.â
He grins, leans back like he didnât just out-nerd a tenured physicist, and thenâthenâhe looks at you. Like he knows youâre watching.
And you are. You so are.
Gojo tilts his head slightly, mouth curling into that infuriating little smirk as he mouths: Impressed yet?
You look away instantly.
You are. Youâre very impressed. Unfortunately. But youâre not gonna let him know that. Not yet.
So instead, you raise your hand. And when the professor calls on you, you challenge his answer.
Gojo looks like you just proposed.
-
Class ends and students start filing out, a low murmur of backpacks zipping and chairs scraping filling the air. Youâre casually packing up your things, pretending not to notice the way someone is lingering by the door.
He shouldâve left already. But noâheâs leaning against the wall like itâs a conscious choice, not that heâs waiting for you or anything. Totally not that.
You sling your bag over your shoulder and head out. You donât even get five steps into the hallway before you hearâ
âSoâŚâ
You turn.
Gojoâs standing there, hands in his pockets, lips parted like heâs still catching his breath. His glasses are a little crooked. Probably because heâs been running that hand through his hair again. He straightens up when you face him.
âThat was⌠impressive,â he says, rubbing the back of his neck. âLike, really impressive.â
You smile. âThanks. You were good too, by the way.â
He blinks. âGood? Iâgood? Thatâs it?â
âYup.â You start walking. âTry harder next time.â
Thereâs a pause. And then he jogs up beside you, looking equal parts offended and delighted. âOh, okay. So thatâs how it is?â he teases, grinning. âYouâre one of those girls.â
âWhat girls?â
âThe ones who enjoy crushing the academic dreams of sweet, helpless nerds like me.â
You give him a look. âHelpless?â
âDevastatingly,â he says, deadpan.
You snort. âYou literally made a PhD cry last week.â
âShe recovered.â
âYou sent her a fruit basket.â
âSee? I care.â
You try to hold back your laughter but fail miserably, and he lights up like you just handed him the Nobel Prize.
You turn the corner toward the next building, Satoru trailing beside you like a very tall, mildly wounded puppy.
Heâs oddly quietâhands still shoved in his pockets, eyes flicking your way every few seconds like heâs waiting for a verdict. It's kind of adorable.
You stop walking. âCome on,â you say, already veering toward the campus cafĂŠ. âIâll buy you a coffee.â
Satoru blinks. Twice. âL-like⌠like a date?â
You snort, rolling your eyes. âWoah there. Hold your horses, bud. Iâm doing it so maybe youâll stop moping around.â
He gaspsâactually gaspsâhands flying to his chest in mock offense. âI am not moping!â
âYou literally sighed ten times during that walk.â
âI was brooding. Itâs different.â
You raise an eyebrow. âYou pouted when I said you were just âgoodâ in class.â
âIâm a sensitive soul!â
âYouâre insufferable.â
âBut charming,â he says quickly, catching up to walk beside you again, shoulder bumping yours. âUndeniably charming.â
You hum, lips twitching. âSure. Letâs go with that.â
He grins, all pearly teeth and pretty-boy smugness, practically floating now. And just as you're about to step into the cafĂŠ, you hear him mutter something behind you, half to himselfâ
âIâm so gonna make you fall in love with me.â
You turn slightly. âWhat was that?â
âNothing!â he chirps, already holding the door open for you like a gentleman. âLadies first!â
-
He watches you from the tiny round table by the window, chin propped in his hand, glasses slipping a little down the bridge of his nose. Youâre standing at the counter, reading over the menu with a furrow between your brows like youâre solving quantum equations instead of choosing between oat milk or soy.
He could watch you forever. Not in a creepy wayâokay, maybe a little creepyâbut in that dumb, enamored kind of way where even the way you tap your fingers against the counter makes his heart do this weird flip.
You step up, voice soft but certain when you order. Vanilla latte, extra shot, light foam.
He files it away instantly. Vanilla. Extra shot. Light foam. Heâs going to remember that forever. He could write a thesis on it.
Your name is called, and he watches the way your eyes crinkle a little when you thank the barista. When you turn around, drinks in hand, and start walking back toward him, he panicsâbecause suddenly heâs hyper-aware of how dumb he must look just staring.
He quickly looks down at his phone screen, pretending to scroll through something important. Itâs literally just his calculator app open from earlier. Nothingâs calculated.Â
You slide his drink toward him when you sit. He doesnât even care what it is. You couldâve handed him gasoline and he wouldâve sipped it happily.
âThanks,â he says casuallyâway too casually for someone whose brain short-circuited the moment you looked at him.
And then you take a sip of yours, and he blurts it out without thinking:
âYouâre sweet.â
You blink. âHuh?â
He clears his throat. âThe drink, I mean. Itâs sweet.â
Smooth. So smooth.
You squint at him suspiciously. He hides behind his cup and takes a sip.
You're mid-sip of your latte when he says itâcompletely out of nowhere, eyes locked on you like he's trying to memorize your entire existence.
"You're kinda pretty when youâre annoyed, yâknow?"
You almost choke. "What?"
He leans forward, resting his chin in his palm, grinning like he just cracked the code to the universe. âJust an observation. Purely academic.â
"Youâre impossible," you mutter, eyes darting awayâand he sees it, the blush creeping up your neck.
And thatâs it. Thatâs his victory.
He leans back in his chair, smug as hell. âYou're blushing.â
"I'm not."
âOh no, donât worry. I think itâs cute,â he says, like itâs a fact in a textbook.
You throw a sugar packet at him. He dodges with a laugh.
"You trying to kill me? And here I thought this was a date."
You give him a look. âItâs not a date.â
He shrugs, grabbing your drink and stealing a sip like it is. âCouldâve fooled me.â
You snatch your cup back, but itâs too lateâheâs already smacked his lips like a wine critic.
âAre you always this annoying?â you ask, sipping your drink now.
He shrugs. âOnly when I like someone.â
You freeze for half a second. And he sees that too.
Your voice is careful, teasing but cautious. âSo you like me now?â
He hums, looking away dramatically, as if heâs pondering some great cosmic truth. âI donât know⌠Maybe. Youâre cute when youâre flustered. And when youâre mean to me. And when you roll your eyes. Andââ
âOkay, stop.â
âNope. You gave me coffee. Iâm powered up now. Canât shut me up.â
You groan, slumping in your seat with the most dramatic expression you can manage.
He grins wide, and that smug sparkle in his eyes softens, just a bit. âBut seriously,â he says, voice quieter now, âI like talking to you.â
And that shuts you up for a beat.
You meet his eyes again, and this time, thereâs no teasing, no cocky grinâjust sincerity, wrapped in dorky charm. ââŚI like talking to you too,â you admit, soft.
And just like that, he lights up all over again.
-
You both exit the cafĂŠ, coffees in hand, the air warmer than before but still crisp. The sunâs out, and so is Gojoâs smileâuntil you stop at the sidewalk and glance down at your phone.
âShit,â you mutter. âIâve got class right now.â
His face drops instantly. âWaitâalready? But I havenât even finished annoying you yet.â
You laugh, nudging his arm with your elbow. âYouâve done plenty in the last thirty minutes, trust me.â
He exhales dramatically, shoulders sagging as he pouts. âThis is tragic. A real loss for humanity.â
âDonât be so dramatic.â
âBut I miss you already,â he says. âWhoâs gonna listen to my unfiltered genius now?â
You raise a brow, backing away slowly. âIâm sure youâll find a new victim. See you, Gojo.â
âWaitâwait, when do I see you again?â he calls after you, half-joking, half-not.
You shoot him a smile over your shoulder. âYouâll live.â
And as you disappear into the crowd, he just stands there for a moment, lips pressed together, watching you go.
ââŚNo I wonât.â
-
You donât think much of it when Gojo catches up to you outside the lecture hall again. Heâs chatty as usual, teasing you about your keychain, dramatically proclaiming how he almost tripped over a squirrel on the way here, all while walking a half-step closer than necessary. Same old Gojo stuff.
You head toward your usual seat, a few rows back from the frontâjust enough distance to not get called on every two minutes. Youâre used to watching him breeze right past, to the very first row, like heâs the poster boy for "overachiever of the year."
So when you slide into your seat and Gojo casually takes the one right next to you, backpack dropping with a thud at his feet, you do a double take.
âWhat are you doing?â you whisper.
He only shrugs, flashing that annoyingly pretty smile. âJust felt like switching it up today.â
Youâre not the only one caught off guard. A few students glance over and someone even nudges their friend like this is newsworthy.
Because Gojo Satoru doesnât switch it up. Heâs the guy who color codes his notes and brings a backup calculator. But now heâs here, sitting so close that his knee bumps yours beneath the table and stays there.
You try to focus when class beginsâbut it's hard when he's right there beside you, radiating warmth. Every now and then, his fingers graze your thigh beneath the deskâcasual, like itâs nothing. Like itâs everything.
You donât look at him. But you know heâs grinning. And just when you're starting to think this canât get more distractingâ
âBefore we end today,â the professor says, âIâm assigning a group project. Pairs, selected at random.â
Your stomach sinks. You glance at Gojo, whoâs already turned toward the front again, fingers drumming lightly on the desk. Like he knows.
You hear names being rattled off. A list of partnerships. Thenâ
âAnd lastly, Gojo Satoru andâŚâ A pause. âYou.â
Silence. You blink. Gojo leans back with a loud, satisfied sigh and stretches his arms behind his head.
âOh no,â you mutter, already dreading whatâs coming.
âOh yes,â he says, grinning so wide it should be illegal.
-
You step out of the lecture hall with Gojo hot on your heels, practically bouncing with excitement. Heâs still beaming about the professorâs decision like he just won the lottery.
âThis is fate,â he says, catching up to walk beside you. âWeâre gonna be the best pair in that class. I mean, youâve got the brains and the beauty, and Iâve got the everything else.â
You snort. âYouâre not serious.â
âOh, Iâm dead serious.â He adjusts the strap of his backpack with dramatic flair. âThis is the beginning of a legendary academic alliance.â
You roll your eyes, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. âSo, when do we start this legendary alliance of yours?â
He doesnât miss a beat. âThought youâd never ask. I was thinking⌠we could cash in that coffee date you promised me. Use the time to plan out our project. Very responsible. Very scholarly.â
You shoot him a look. âItâs not a date.â
âSure,â he says easily, eyes twinkling. âA purely educational rendezvous at a cozy cafĂŠ where we might happen to sit close enough to accidentally brush knees again.â
You groan. âFine. But weâre actually working on the project this time.â
âNo promises,â he grins.
And you hate how you laugh at that.
-
Youâre tucked into the booth of a cafĂŠ, a half-empty cup of coffee sitting forgotten as you scribble into your notebook. Across from you, Gojoâs talking a mile a minuteâbouncing between theories, concepts, and potential outlines for your project with the kind of ease that only someone dangerously smart could pull off.
And the worst part? Every word out of his mouth actually makes sense.
You glance up at him, brows lifting slightly. âOkay, that last one? Thatâs actually⌠really solid.â
He beams. âRight? I knew youâd see the brilliance.â
You shake your head with a small laugh. âI hate to say it, but Iâm impressed.â
Gojo leans forward, resting his chin on his hand with a smug grin. âCareful now. Compliments like that might go to my head.â
You ignore him, scribbling something down beside his last idea. The two of you work like that for a whileâyou writing, him throwing ideas around and occasionally sipping from his drink. And before you know it, youâve got the skeleton of a full project mapped out.
He stretches his arms above his head, shirt riding up just enough to be distracting. âWhew. Honestly? I didnât expect to get this much done.â
You close your notebook, tapping your pen against the table. âWe could start putting together the first draft later this week.â
Gojo nods. âYeah, sure. We could work at my place or somethââ
You cut him off, tone light. âYou could come to mine.â
He freezes. Blinks. âY-your place?â
You smile sweetly. âMhm.â
He stares at you, cheeks tinged pink behind his glasses. âIâyeah. Yeah, totally. Your place. Great idea. Love that. Very efficient. Extremely platonic and professional.â
You laugh. âYouâre cute when you malfunction.â
âI donât malfunction,â he mumbles.
You donât believe that for a second.
Heâs trying so hard to play it cool, but his brain short-circuited the moment you suggested your place. His legs bounce under the table, fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt like itâll ground him somehow.
You lean back in your seat, arms crossed as you observe him with a smug little smile. âYou alright there, genius?â
Satoru clears his throat, adjusting his glasses even though theyâre not crooked. âMe? Totally fine. Just recalibrating. You know, like⌠spatially. Mentally.â
You blink at him. âUh-huh.â
He runs a hand through his snowy hair, the tips poking out in every direction like even they are flustered. âI just wasnât expecting that, is all.â
âYou werenât expecting me to suggest we work on the project?â
âNoâI mean, yesâbut at your place?â He lifts his hands, palms up like heâs holding the concept of your apartment in the air. âDo you even realize what that implies?â
You tilt your head. âThat I trust you to not snoop through my things?â
He looks offended. âI would never snoop. I am a gentleman.â
âOkay, gentleman,â you say, standing and grabbing your bag. âThen bring snacks when you come over.â
That shuts him up real quick. He stares up at you, blinking as you sling your bag over your shoulder and give him one last little smirk. âOh,â you add casually, âand maybe wear those glasses again.â
His jaw drops.
You donât wait to see his reaction. You just turn and walk off with the smuggest little sway to your step, leaving Gojo sitting thereâcompletely malfunctioning, heart doing gymnastics in his chest.
He presses a hand over it, eyes wide. âOh god.â
-
[gojo]: hey. hey hey hey
[gojo]: when u said ur place⌠u meant like. like ur apartment right
[gojo]: like ur home. with walls. and couches. and stuff
[you]: i am aware of what my apartment contains, yes.
[gojo]: just checking đ
[gojo]: do i need to bring a textbook? or will u be tutoring me using sheer intimidation alone
[you]: i thought i was the one taking notes last time?
[gojo]: yeah but you intimidated me into being smart. thatâs powerful
[gojo]: anyway whatâs ur address đ
[you]: [sends location]
[you]: and bring snacks like i said. iâm not letting you in if you show up empty handed
[gojo]: what kind of snacks
[you]: surprise me
[gojo]: âŚ
[gojo]: you have NO idea what youâve just done
[you]: satoru itâs literally just snacks
[gojo]: and now iâm overthinking EVERYTHING. chips? chocolate? do i bring a charcuterie board???
[gojo]: i need you to know iâm taking this Very Seriously.
[you]: iâm sure you are.
[gojo]: đ¤ just u wait. iâll be the best study buddy youâve ever had.Â
[you]: is this your way of flirting or are you always like this
[gojo]: âŚyes
-
You open the door and there he isâstanding on your doorstep. His arms are full: a tote bag slung over his shoulder, a drink carrier in one hand, and a plastic bag filled with snacks in the other.
âYou said surprise you,â he announces, stepping in. âSo I brought everything. Chips. Cookies. Gummy worms. Protein bars, because balance. And boba. I panicked.â
You raise an eyebrow. âYou brought a buffet.â
âI wanted to impress you,â he says, dead serious, slipping his shoes off at the door.
You stifle a laugh and step aside. âCome on in.â
Your place is cozy, warm lighting humming softly. Gojoâs eyes flit around like heâs taking mental notes of every detailâyour throw pillows, your bookshelf, the faint scent of your perfume lingering in the air. You pretend not to notice how he seems ten times quieter than usual.
âSit,â you say, motioning to the couch.Â
He plops down next to you, thigh brushing yours, and pulls out his notes. âSo. I was thinking we model the phase shift in the magnetic field usingâwaitâwait, are you actually listening or just staring at my mouth?â
You blink at him. âI was listening. You just talk a lot.â
He leans in, smirking. âBut you were also staring.â
You swat his arm. âFocus.â
âYes, maâam,â he mumbles, hiding a very pleased grin.
As you two dive into the project, itâs surprisingly productive. Heâs brilliantâhe rattles off concepts with such ease that youâre genuinely impressed. You ask questions. He answers. You scribble notes while he paces your living room barefoot, gesturing wildly as he explains advanced equations like theyâre childrenâs bedtime stories. Heâs in his element. And kind of hot, too, in a completely nerdy, passionate way.
âYouâre really smart,â you say eventually, mid-note-taking.
He freezes. Turns to you slowly. âSay that again.â
You raise an eyebrow. âI said youâre smartââ
âNo no,â he says, dropping onto the couch beside you again. âSay it slower. Maybe into my ear this time.â
You laugh, shoving him gently. âGod, youâre impossible.â
âAnd yet you invited me over.â His voice drops just slightly, eyes glittering behind those thick-rimmed glasses. âKinda makes me think you like having me around.â
Your heart skips. âMaybe I do.â
He stares for a momentâreally staresâand then gives you the softest smile. âThen I guess Iâm not leaving until we finish the whole project. Top marks, remember?â
âTop marks,â you echo.
When your hands brush reaching for the same pen, you both freeze.
You recover first, pulling your hand back slightly. âYou can have it,â you say, trying to keep your voice casual.
Gojo, stubborn as ever, immediately shakes his head. âNo, itâs alright. You can have it.â
âNo, seriously, take it.â
âI insist.â
âYouâre being annoying.â
âYou like when Iâm annoying,â he says with a cheeky grin.
You roll your eyes and shove the pen towards him. âJust take it before I stab you with it.â
There's a beat of silence where you both just stare at each otherâawkward, heated, too aware of how close youâre sitting. You can feel the air shift between you, something lingering and soft.
Gojo clears his throat loudly, leaning back against the couch with exaggerated nonchalance. âUhâsnack break?â he says, voice a little too high-pitched to be smooth.
You bite back a smile, grateful for the out. âYeah. Snack break.â
He springs up like heâs been given a second life, muttering something under his breath about chips and cookies while you try very hard not to laugh.
Gojo rummages through your cabinets like he lives there, narrating dramatically under his breath. "Let's see... we have some chips, half a granola bar... oh-ho, instant ramen! A true feast fit for a queen."
You lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching him with an amused smile. "You're so dramatic."
He whirls around, holding the ramen packet in one hand like itâs a sacred artifact. "Dramatic? No, no, this is culinary excellence, sweetheart."
You snort, covering your laugh with the back of your hand. "You're about to microwave that."
"Precisely." He winks at you. "Modern problems require modern solutions."
You roll your eyes but grab a cup, filling it with water and handing it to him. Your fingers brush when he takes it, and maybe youâre imagining it, but he seems to pause for half a second longer than necessary, fingers brushing yours again on purpose.
"I'll make you the best cup ramen of your life," he declares proudly, tossing it into the microwave and punching in the time.
"Bold of you to assume I have low standards," you tease.
He leans an elbow on the counter, cocking his head at you with a lazy, smug grin. "Again. You invited me over. I'd say your standards are excellent."
Your cheeks flame immediately. "Shut up."
He just laughs, tossing his messy hair out of his eyes, looking at you like youâre the only thing that matters in the room.
The microwave dings and Gojo gasps. "It's time."
He pulls the ramen out like itâs a precious treasure, dramatically blowing on it before holding it out to you.
"Milady," he says in a terrible fake accent, "your meal."
Youâre laughing too hard to even be annoyed. You take the cup from him, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.
-
You both make your way to the couch after the world's most gourmet snack break (according to Gojo), slumping down with your legs tucked under you while he scrolls endlessly through your streaming options.
"Pick something," you say, poking his thigh with your toe.
"But it's so hard," he whines dramatically. "What if I pick something that doesn't match our vibe?" He flashes you a sly, boyish smile, the kind that makes your heart lurch even when you don't want it to.
You roll your eyes, tossing a throw pillow at him. "Just pick something, drama queen."
He catches the pillow effortlessly, still grinning, and finally settles on some random romcomâprobably because he thinks it'll impress you with how emotionally available he is. Not even five minutes in, he does the whole exaggerated stretch and casual arm drop behind you. Textbook.
You give him a look. "Subtle."
He just beams, smug and utterly unbothered. "Thanks. Been practicing."
You shake your head, laughing under your breath, but you don't move away. Instead, you let the warmth of his arm hovering behind you linger there, like a secret.
You both slowly ease into a lazy sort of comfort, shoulders brushing every so often, knees bumping when one of you shifts. Heâs fidgety, thoughâtapping his fingers against the cushion, sneaking glances at you when he thinks you won't notice.
You notice. You just pretend not to.
Time blurs, the movie forgotten as conversation picks up again. Dumb stuff. Stories about professors, weird classmates, Gojo ranting about a physics experiment gone wrong because "the equipment was stupid, not me," and you laughing so hard your stomach hurts. At some point you realize how late itâs gotten.
You glance at your phone. "Shit, itâs almost midnight."
Gojo pouts dramatically. "Nooo, donât kick me out."
"You have class at eight tomorrow," you remind him, stretching your arms above your head. "Donât you dare blame me when you fall asleep in class."
He sighs, long and exaggerated, standing up anyway. "Fine. But just so you know, leaving is painful for me. Agony, even."
You snort, pushing yourself off the couch. "You'll live, Satoru."
He lingers by the door, bouncing on his heels like he wants to say something. And then he blurts, all in one breath: "Do you wanna go on a date with me?"
You blink, caught off guard. "A coffee date?"
"No, no!" He waves his hands frantically. "Likeâa real date. A good one. A fancy one. With food and everything!"
His voice goes a little desperate toward the end, as if you're seconds from rejecting him.
You cross your arms, fighting back a laugh. "Are you begging, Gojo?"
"Yes," he says instantly, with zero shame.
You tap your chin, pretending to think it over just to mess with him. He looks genuinely tortured, hands clutched in front of him like he's praying.
Finally, you shrug. "Alright. You can take me out."
The way his whole face lights up could rival the sun. "YESâYES, OH MY GODâokay, okay, I wonât screw this up, swear on my honorâ"
You laugh, pushing him lightly toward the door. "Text me the details, Romeo."
Heâs still beaming when he stumbles out, waving giddily.
You shake your head, grinning to yourself as you shut the door behind him.
-
You stand in front of the mirror, arms crossed, glaring at the mountain of clothes on your bed.
Itâs ridiculous. It's Gojo Satoru, for godâs sakeâthe same man who wears sweater vests unironicallyâso why are you panicking about what to wear?
You pick up a red dress, stare at it, and toss it aside. Too much.
A simple blouse and jeans? Too casual.
You want to look good. Scratch thatâyou want to make his brain short-circuit when he sees you.
Finally, after what feels like hours of spiraling, you settle on a black off-shoulder dress that hugs your figure flatteringly. Itâs something that feels like youâsimple but pretty, enough to make your heart skip when you catch your reflection.
Right as youâre fixing the final touches, your phone buzzes.
[gojo đ]: here <3
[gojo đ]: try not to fall in love with me too fast ok
You snort under your breath. Too late, you think, heart thudding faster than youâd ever admit.
You grab your bag and head outside, spotting him.Â
You almost don't recognize him at first.
Gone are the thick-rimmed glasses and the nerdy sweater vest he usually sports in class. Tonight, Gojo Satoru is dressed in a simple white button-upâsleeves rolled up to his forearmsâand black dress pants that cling just right to his lean frame. His snowy hair is still messy, like he ran his hands through it a million times, but somehow, it works. He looks effortlessly good. Stupidly good.
And when he spots you, he nearly trips over his own feet.
"Hey," you greet, a little breathless from how unfairly good he looks.
"Hey," he says back, voice cracking halfway through. He coughs, fumbling to form literal words, cheeks flushed. "You, uhâyou lookâwow."
You laugh softly as he practically skips toward you, offering you his arm with an exaggerated flourish. "Shall we, m'lady?"
You roll your eyes but take his arm anyway, feeling the warmth of him through the fabric of his shirt.
He leans down to whisper in your ear, cocky and sweet all at once: "Just so you know, I'm totally gonna brag about this to my future grandkids."
You elbow him lightly in the side, and he laughs, the happiest sound you've heard all day.
You laugh softly, letting go of him to get into the car, and he stands there for a second like heâs been shot.
When he finally gets himself together and slides into the driverâs seat, he sneaks a look at you. "Youâreâ" he starts, then cuts himself off, shaking his head like he canât believe his own luck. "Perfect," he finishes under his breath.
You pretend not to hear it, hiding your smile as he pulls out onto the roadâone hand casually on the wheel, the other fiddling nervously with his collar.
Neither of you says much at first. The radio hums softly between you.
But every few seconds, you catch him sneaking glances your way, grinning like this is already the best date ever.
-
You recognize the place immediately.
Itâs a beautiful rooftop restaurantâone youâd mentioned wanting to try in passing, months ago, when a friend posted about it on social media. You hadnât even realized he was listening.
The fact that he remembered makes your heart swell.
Satoru pulls into the valet line, hands slightly fidgety on the steering wheel. He throws a quick, nervous glance at you, like heâs scared you wonât like it.
"You, uh, mentioned it once," he says, almost shyly. "Thought it'd be better than, y'know... coffee again."
Your chest tightens in the softest, sweetest way. You open your mouth, ready to tease him, but the look on his faceâthe earnest hope in his eyesâmakes you stop. You just smile instead.
"Itâs perfect," you say quietly.
And the way he beams after that? God, you almost have to look away. Too much.
He practically leaps out of the car the second it's parked, sprinting around to your side to open the door for you. Exceptâhe miscalculates the timing and almost slams it into his own shin.
"Owâshitâ" he mutters under his breath, recovering quickly and yanking it open like nothing happened. He straightens up, all suave-like, grinning down at you.
"Milady," he says dramatically, offering you his hand.
You roll your eyes but take it anyway, letting him help you out of the car. His hand is warmâso much bigger than yoursâand he doesnât let go right away. In fact, he keeps holding it as you walk toward the entrance, fingers intertwined like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
And you donât pull away. If anything, you squeeze a little tighter.
Inside, the restaurant is even more beautiful than you imaginedâglittering fairy lights, soft music, a gentle breeze whispering across the rooftop.
Gojo glances down at you, smiling like you personally hung the stars. "Ready for the best date of your life?" he teases, but thereâs a nervous edge to itâlike your opinion actually, genuinely matters to him.
You bite your lip to hold back a grin.
"Lead the way, Romeo."
And he does. Hand in hand, heart thundering, wearing the dopiest smile imaginable.
Dinner with Gojo isâŚeffortless.
For once, he isnât tripping over his words or cracking half a dozen stupid jokes just to fill the silence. Heâs confidentânaturally confidentâin a way that makes your heart stutter. Itâs like all the nervous energy he usually carries around you has melted away tonight, leaving behind nothing but the real Satoru.
He leans back in his chair, the sleeves of his white button-up rolled up to his elbows, flashing the veins in his forearms as he lifts his wine glass to his lips.
Thereâs a lazy smirk playing on his mouth as he listens to you talk, bright blue eyes never straying from your face.
"Youâre staring," you tease after a moment, pretending to inspect the menu like youâre not burning under his gaze.
"Yeah," he says simply, not even bothering to deny it. "Youâre beautiful. Iâm allowed to stare."
You nearly choke on your water.
Recovering quickly, you raise a brow. "Smooth," you deadpan, setting your glass down.
He chuckles lowly, the sound curling around your spine like smoke. "Only because itâs true," he says, and the sheer casualty of it has your cheeks heating up.
And the worst part? You canât even pretend youâre unaffectedâbecause he sees it. The way your lips twitch, the way your eyes flicker away for just a second.
"So," you say quickly, trying to regain control of the conversation, "when youâre not busy terrorizing professors and making girls swoon, what do you do for fun, Gojo?"
He hums, pretending to think about it, tapping his fork against his lip.
"Hmm...think about you mostly," he says airily.
You whip your napkin at him across the table, and he lets out a bark of laughter, catching it midair like a reflex.
The two of you fall into easy conversation after thatâbantering, laughing, throwing subtle (and not-so-subtle) jabs at each other. It feels so natural that you almost forget this is your first real date.
Thereâs a momentâbetween courses, when youâre both picking at the remains of dessertâthat you catch him just looking at you again. No teasing. No smirk. Just watching. Soft, and a little awed.
You shift slightly, suddenly aware of the intimacy stretching between you. "What?" you murmur.
He blinks, as if waking up. Shakes his head, smiling faintly.
"Nothing," he says, voice a little rough. "Youâre justâreally fucking gorgeous."
Itâs so sincere that you donât even know what to say back. You just look at him, feeling your chest tighten in that dangerous, dangerous way again.
-
The drive back is quietânot uncomfortable. JustâŚfull.
Full of things unsaid, full of that warmth thatâs been simmering between you both all night.
Gojo parks in front of your place, turning off the engine, but neither of you make a move to get out right away. You just sit there, the hum of the night wrapping around you, the silence speaking louder than words ever could.
He turns in his seat slightly, arm draped over the steering wheel, looking at you with that soft, lopsided smile he reserves only for you now.
"I had a really good time," he says quietly, like itâs a secret meant only for you.
You smile back, feeling something sweet and dangerous unfurl in your chest. "Me too," you murmur, fingers twisting slightly in your lap.
The moment stretchesâcomfortable, a little electricâand you know you should say goodnight. You should.
So you finally reach for the door handle, pulling it openâAnd then, without thinking, you turn back.
Leaning in quick, before you can psych yourself out, you press a soft kiss to his cheek.
Itâs light, barely a brush, but Gojo freezes like youâve just electrocuted him.
You donât wait for his reaction. Your face burning, you practically stumble out of the car, slamming the door shut behind you with a muttered, "Goodnight!"
Through the window, you catch a glimpse of him: Wide-eyed, stunned, a hand lifted dazedly to his cheek like he can't believe what just happened.
And then he laughsâa breathless, giddy sound that you swear you can hear even as you rush up the steps to your door, heart hammering like crazy.
Inside the car, Satoru slumps back against the seat, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. "God," he mutters to himself, still touching the spot where you kissed him, "Iâm so fucked."
-
Youâre lying in bed when your phone buzzes in your hand. Heart still racing from that impulsive kiss you planted on his cheek, you scramble to pick it up, thumbs fumbling.
[gojo đ]: next time, youâre not getting away with just a kiss on the cheek.
You nearly drop your phone.
Oh. Oh.
Your stomach flips. Your face burns. And even though you want to play it cool, you canât fight the smile tugging at your lips. You bite your lip, thumbs hovering over the keyboard before finally typing back:
[you]: is that a threat, satoru?
The reply comes almost instantly, like he was waiting for you:
[gojo đ]: no baby, thatâs a promise.
You stare at the screen, heart hammering against your ribs.Â
Baby. God, youâre so done for.
And like he hasnât already made you melt enough tonight, he sends another message:
[gojo đ]: get some sleep, prettyÂ
You bury your face into your pillow with a squeal, kicking your feet into the mattress. You type back quickly before you lose your nerve:
[you]: goodnight, satoru. try not to miss me too much.
And a few seconds later:
[gojo đ]: too late.
[you]: careful, satoru. you're sounding real desperate rn.
You barely have time to smirk before he hits you with:
[gojo đ]: desperate?
[gojo đ]: for you? always.
And like he knows youâre losing it, he sends one more:
[gojo đ]: sleep tight, gorgeous.
[gojo đ]: dream of me.
[gojo đ]: i'll definitely be dreaming of you. (and if i wake up hard, it's your fault btw)
You scream into your pillow.
Your hands tremble as you type your final text:
[you]: sweet dreams, toru <3
[you]: maybe next time you wonât have to just dream ;)
And the moment you send it, you shut your phone off and toss it across the bed because thereâs absolutely no way youâre surviving if he replies. (He does. Five seconds later.)
[gojo đ]: fucking hell.
-
Satoruâs still staring at your last text. Eyes wide. Mouth parted.
maybe next time you wonât have to just dream
He drops his phone onto the bed with a dull thud, dragging both hands down his face.
"Goddammit," he breathes, tipping his head back against the headboard.
Youâre gonna kill him. Youâre actually gonna kill him.
He sits there for a good minute, struggling to breathe normally, heart hammering against his ribs, cock already half-hard just from that one text. (Just from a text. He's so far gone it's not even funny.)
"Pull it together, Gojo," he mutters, raking a hand through his messy hair.
But the moment he squeezes his eyes shut, itâs you he seesâsmiling up at him all coy, leaning in close, whispering things in that pretty voice you have, like you knew exactly what kind of mess you were leaving him in.
You did. You knew exactly what you were doing.
He groans, thunking his head back harder against the headboard, biting down a low, frustrated sound as your words loop endlessly in his brain.
Youâre driving him insane.
Before he can talk himself out of it, he shoves his sleep shorts down just enough and wraps a hand around his cock, cursing under his breath when he realizes how hard he already is.
Itâs wrong. He knows itâs wrongâyou havenât even properly kissed yet. But god, you're just so, so perfect. So effortlessly beautiful.Â
He squeezes his eyes shut tighter, his hand moving slowly, pretending itâs you insteadâyour hand wrapped around him, your body pressed close, your breath ghosting over his ear as you whisper all the filthy things he can barely even let himself imagine.
"Fuck," he hisses through his teeth, hips bucking up into his fist, desperate for more.
He canât help it.
Youâre in his head. Youâre under his skin. And heâs not even sure he wants to be saved.
His thighs tense, muscles flexing as he fists himself harder, chasing that high like a man starved. The sound of his breathâharsh and brokenâfills the room. Your name nearly falls from his lips like a prayer.
And when he finally comes, itâs with a soft, bitten-off moan, warmth spilling over his knuckles.Â
His mind blanks for a long, dizzy secondânothing but the feeling of you filling every corner of him.
He collapses back against the pillows, breathless. Staring at the ceiling like heâs just been fucking wrecked. Sweaty. Panting. His hand sticky and his soul halfway out of his body.
He drags a hand down his face again, groaning. "...I'm so fucking screwed," Satoru mutters to himself, glaring uselessly at the ceiling like itâs personally responsible for his downfall.
-
The sunlightâs barely filtering through his blinds when Satoru stirs awake, messy hair flattened against his forehead, phone slipping from his chest with a quiet thunk onto the mattress.
Groaning, he blindly pats around for it, eyes still crusted shut from sleep.
When he finally blinks them open, he sees the last thing he remembers: your text. The text that ruined his entire night.
He slaps a hand over his face and drags it down slowly, mumbling, âIâm going to hell.â
But because heâs an idiotâan idiot in loveâhe still unlocks his phone, thumbs hovering nervously over the screen.
He needs to text you. Needs to act normal. Needs to pretend he didnât almost cry last night over how fucking good it felt imagining you touching him.
He taps out a message, agonizing over every word:
[you]: good morning :) hope you slept well!
He stares at it for a second longer, wondering if he sounds too eager, then panics and deletes the smiley. Then retypes it. Then deletes it again.
Then sends it without the emoji because God forbid he looks like heâs about to propose or something.
He tosses his phone down and flops back against his pillows, staring up at the ceiling like it holds the answers to his sins.
Not even ten seconds pass before his phone buzzes. Heart slamming against his ribs, he fumbles to read it:
[sweetheart đ]: you too, toru. sweet dreams? ;)
He physically chokes. Coughs. Slaps his own chest like heâs trying to restart his heart.
âSweet dreamsâ?â he sputters aloud, horrified, voice cracking. âSWEETâ?â
The images from last night flash vividly in his mind: your lips, your breathy giggles, your hands sneaking lowerâ
He shoves his face into a pillow and screams.
When he finally peeks out, shame swirling in his gut, he types back with trembling hands:
[you]: sweetest dreams ever. totally normal. nothing weird about them at all.
And then he turns his phone face-down. Because he cannot. He cannot see what youâre going to reply.
Heâs so down bad it's physically painful.
-
You stare at your phone, biting your lip to hold back a grin.Â
Totally normal. Nothing weird about them at all.
Sure, Satoru. Sure.
You kick your feet a little under your blanket, giddy, heart thumping like crazy. You know exactly what youâre doing. You know exactly what youâre doing to him.
And youâre not done yet. You let him stew in his own panic for a few minutesâjust to watch him sufferâbefore tapping out a reply:
[you]: sounds like someoneâs overcompensating⌠;)
You hit send and immediately burst into laughter, flopping back into your pillows. You can practically imagine him screaming into his hands right now, scrambling to figure out what to say without incriminating himself even more.
And because youâre a menace, you follow it up:
[you]: itâs okay, toru. you can dream about me whenever you want <3
There. Youâve officially ruined his whole morning.
You toss your phone aside and stretch, feeling like you just hit a home run. But then your phone buzzes againâmultiple timesâand you grab it, giggling.
First, from Satoru:
[toru đ]: youâre evil. pure evil. iâm never sleeping again.
And then another, right after:
[toru đ]: coffee today? my treat. i need to see your evil little face or iâm going to combust.
You roll over onto your stomach, kicking your legs up behind you, cheeks aching from smiling so hard.
Maybe you are evil. But god, itâs so fun when heâs this easy to tease.
You tap out your reply, heart light:
[you]: only if you promise not to die before you get here.
-
It doesnât even take ten minutes before thereâs a knock at your door. You blink in surpriseâyou hadnât even changed yet.
Another knock, this time a little quicker, a little eager.
You pad over and crack the door openâand there he is.
Satoru, all messy hair, rumpled shirt, soft smile. Holding two coffees in his hands.
And looking at you like you hung the moon.
"Hi," he says, almost shyly. "Brought you a coffee."
You blink at him.
He fidgets, rocking on his heels. "I, uh... thought maybe we could, y'know, hang out a little. If youâre not busy."
Your heart melts a little at how hopeful he sounds.
"Youâre impossible," you tease, swinging the door wider.
"And you're stuck with me," he chirps, stepping inside like he belongs there.
You take one of the coffees from him, fingers brushing, and he beams like youâve just given him the greatest honor.
"Thanks," you say, smiling into your cup. "Even though you didnât have to."
"I wanted to," he says simply, plopping onto your couch with zero hesitation. (And he leaves way too little space for you, thigh already brushing yours.)
You sit down beside him, your shoulders bumping. He hums under his breath, swinging his legs a little like a kid whoâs gotten his favorite candy.
For a minute, itâs just the two of you, sipping coffee, the silence warm and comfortable.
And then, out of nowhere, he leans his head dramatically onto your shoulder.
You freeze for a second, heart skipping.
He sighsâloudlyâagainst you. "Youâre not gonna kick me out, right?"
You laugh, nudging him with your elbow. "Not if you behave."
"Thatâs asking for a lot," he grins, tilting his head up to look at you. His smileâs a little mischievous, a little boyish.
You roll your eyes, trying to hide your blush behind your coffee cup.
And because heâs shamelessâand he knows heâs winningâhe adds, voice low and teasing: "Maybe if you give me another goodbye kiss?"
You almost spill your coffee.
He sees itâthe way your fingers fumble, the way your face flushesâand smirks.
"C'mon," he teases, nudging your knee with his. "Wasn't that bad of an idea, was it?"
You narrow your eyes at him, tryingâfailingâto fight your smile. "You," you say, poking his chest, "are way too full of yourself."
"And yet..." Satoru leans in, slow, eyes locked on yours. His voice drops to a whisper. "...you're not moving away."
Your breath catches. Because he's rightâyouâre not. If anything, you're leaning in too.
For a moment, neither of you says anything. The room feels too quiet, too charged. You can hear his breathing, slow and steady, can feel the heat radiating off of him.
Satoruâs gaze drops to your mouthâand lingers there. "Can I?" he murmurs, so soft you almost donât catch it.
Your heart thuds loud in your chest. You nod.
Thatâs all he needs.
Slowly, achingly slowly, he closes the gap, giving you every chance to pull awayâbut you donât. You tilt your chin up, meeting him halfway.
When his lips finally brush yours, itâs gentleâbarely a kiss, more like a breath, a promise.
You sigh against him, and that tiny sound seems to undo him. He tilts his head, deepening the kiss just slightly, just enough to taste you. His hand comes up to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin so tenderly it makes your chest ache.
You kiss him back, slow and sweet, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt.
It drags outâneither of you in any rush, savoring every second.
He kisses you like heâs afraid youâll vanish if he stops. And you kiss him like youâve been waiting forever for this moment.
When you finally, reluctantly, pull apart, you're both breathless. He presses his forehead against yours, grinning like an idiot. "So..." he whispers, voice a little hoarse. "Can I stay a little longer?"
You pretend to think about it, biting your lip to hide your smile. "Maybe," you tease. "If you behave."
He groans, flopping dramatically onto your couch again, tugging you down with him so you land half-on top of him, laughing.
"Not a chance," he says happily.
You're warm against him, tucked into his side, your head resting on his shoulder like you belonged there. And for a moment, Satoru feels like the luckiest man alive.
Until his brainâtraitorous, evil, rottenâreminds him.
Reminds him of how he spent last night fucking his fist like a deranged lunatic, thinking about you. Reminds him that you have no idea just how far gone he already is.
A quiet, horrified voice in his head: I'm a monster.
His throat goes dry.His hands twitch awkwardly where they rest on your waist, unsure if he should even be touching you like thisâuntil you shift, just slightly, peeking up at him with this sleepy little smile.
And just like that, every coherent thought leaves him. All that's left is you.
"You're comfy," you mumble against him, snuggling closer.
Satoru lets out a weak, broken little laugh, hiding his burning face against your hair.
If you only knew. If you only knew what you did to him.
He doesn't know how long he sits there with you tucked into him, drinking in your warmth. He could stay like this forever, he thinks. Hell, he wants to.
But then his phone buzzes.
He barely registers it, ignoring it at first. Until it buzzes again. And again.
He groans, reluctant, fishing it out of his pocket while you shift sleepily against him. The screen flashes: a reminder for his evening tutoring session he totally, utterly forgot about. He slumps.
"Something wrong?" you ask, voice soft, blinking up at him.
"I gotta go," he mutters like he's being forced into exile.
You bite back a smile, stretching lazily. "Duty calls?"
"Yeah." He pouts, actually pouts. "Stupid duty."
You laugh under your breath, and it's so unfair how easily you knock the air out of his lungs without even trying.
He stands reluctantly, dragging his feet like a kid leaving recess early.
"Hey," you call out. "Arenât you forgetting something?"
He turns around and blinks at you, confusion flickering across his faceâbut then you smile. Soft. Warm. Something just for him.
You step close, tiptoe a little to reach him. And Satoru swears, swears, his heart stumbles in his chest when you press a gentle kiss to his lips.
It's feather-light. Barely there. Sweet enough to make his knees almost buckle.
And when you pull back, a cheeky glint in your eye, he's just standing there. Frozen. Speechless. The stupidest grin pulling at his mouth.
"See you later, âToru," you say lightly, nudging him toward the door.
And all he can manageâvoice cracking slightly, heart hammering out of his chestâis a dazed "Y-Yeah. Later."
You shut the door behind him with a little wave, and he stands there for a good ten seconds before he finally remembers how to move.
-
Class feels different today.
Youâre hyper-aware of everything.
The way Satoru brushes his knee against yours under the table, all casual-like. The way his pinky keeps nudging yours on the desk until finally, finally, you relent and let your fingers curl around his. The way he keeps sneaking glances at you out of the corner of his eyeâand every time you catch him, he just smiles, like heâs getting away with something.
Itâs infuriating. Itâs adorable. Itâs Satoru.
You pretend to focus on the lecture. Really, you do. But itâs hard when you can feel the warmth of his hand ghosting over your thigh under the table, a barely-there touch that sends your heart skittering against your ribs.
By the time the professor starts wrapping up class, youâre halfway to combusting.
"Donât forget," she says, tapping the whiteboard, "project updates are due next week."
You scribble the deadline in your notes, but Satoruâs already turning toward you, practically bouncing in his seat.
"Hey," he says, voice pitched low enough that only you can hear. "How about we work on it at my place today?"
You blink, startled. "Your place?"
He grins, bright and boyish. "Yeah! First time for everything, right?"
The way he says itâlight, teasing, almost a little shyâmakes something flutter wildly in your chest.
"Itâll be chill," he continues. "We can grab some snacks, order takeout, maybe actually get stuff done this timeâ"
You narrow your eyes at him, suspicious. "Are you actually suggesting a productive study session or trying to lure me into a trap?"
He gasps, hand clutching dramatically at his chest. "Me? Lure you? Iâm offended." Then he drops the act, leaning in close, that mischievous spark lighting up his eyes. "But if you happen to end up in my lap or something, yâknow... destiny."
You shove him lightly, cheeks warming. "God, youâre insufferable."
"Face itâyou love this," he says, nudging your shoulder with his.Â
You roll your eyes so hard itâs a miracle they donât fall out of your head. Still...you find yourself smiling.
"Fine," you say, packing up your stuff. "But weâre actually working this time."
He pumps a fist in victory. "Yes! Bring that sexy brain of yours, princess. Weâre gonna kill this project."
You throw a crumpled sticky note at him. He catches it midair, flashing a grin that practically glows.
-
Youâre home, lounging on your bed, phone in hand.
The texting starts innocent enough.
[you]: what should I bring?
[toru đ]: just that pretty little self of yours
You roll your eyes, biting back a smile.
[you]: be serious
[toru đ]: i am. iâm dead serious. maybe a notebook too though lol
You roll your eyes, thumbs hovering over your screen. Before you can type anything else, another message pops up:
[toru đ]: also⌠try not to look too pretty
[toru đ]: kinda hard to focus when youâre around
You blink at the screen, heart skipping a beat. The sudden boldness makes you squirm a little under your covers.
Before you can even react, a third text follows:
[toru đ]: hereâs my address
A pinned location pops up. Followed byâ
[toru đ]: hurry over please
You stare at the messages, warmth blooming in your chest (and spreading lower, if you were honest).
You should probably be nervous. You should definitely be more cautious.
But all you do is grin, toss your phone onto the bed, and start getting ready.
-
You barely knock once before the door swings open.
And there he is.
Black tank top clinging to his chest, basketball shorts slung so low it should be illegal. Lean muscles on full display. Sleep-mussed white hair falling over his forehead.
You actually forget how to breathe. Your brain just... shuts down.
Satoruâs mouth twitches into a knowing smirk. He leans lazily against the doorframe, crossing his arms â muscles flexing, because of course they do â and tips his head at you.
âWell, well," he drawls, amusement dripping from every word. "Didnât think youâd be that easy to stun."
You blink â once, twice â scrambling to find your voice. "Iâm not stunned," you blurt out, way too fast to be convincing.
"Mhm," he hums, that smug little grin widening. "Sure. You just like standing on people's porches looking like you forgot your own name?"
You shove past him with a flustered scoff, cheeks burning. But you can feel his eyes trailing after you, slow and satisfied, as he shuts the door behind you.
"You didnât tell me the dress code was..." you flounder, gesturing vaguely at his entire existence, "thirst trap casual."
"Aw, you think Iâm a thirst trap?" he coos, stepping dangerously close â close enough that you have to tilt your head back to look at him properly.
"I think youâre an asshole," you snap â except your voice comes out all breathy, completely ruining the effect.
Satoru chuckles â a low, rich sound that vibrates all the way through you. "You can be honest, y'know. It's just us here." He leans down, dropping his voice into a whisper, "You like what you see."
You make a strangled noise in your throat and whirl around, pretending to inspect the living room like it's the most fascinating thing youâve ever seen. "Whereâs your project stuff?" you demand, heart thundering against your ribs.
"Wow," he says behind you, tone all fake-hurt. "Use me for my brain and ditch me for my abs. Brutal."
"You have a brain?" you retort, finally finding a shred of composure.
He laughs again â easy, bright â and brushes past you, the barest graze of his arm against yours sending your nerves into a frenzy.
"Come on, nerd," he calls over his shoulder, tossing a wink at you that almost knocks you off your feet. "Projectâs not gonna finish itself."
You huff, yanking your notebook out of your bag to try and hide the stupid, giddy smile pulling at your lips.
Youâre just barely settled on the couch, notebook balanced on your lap, when Satoru stretches â arms over his head, tank top riding up dangerously â and says, âActually... weâll have more space in my room."
You blink at him, heart skipping a beat. "Your room?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow.
He flashes a wide, shit-eating grin. "Yeah. Bigger desk. Better lighting."
You narrow your eyes, pretending to be skeptical. "Oh? Already trying to get me in bed?"
Satoru stops dead in his tracks â but only for half a second. Then he tosses a look over his shoulder, cocky and wicked. "Donât give me ideas," he says, voice low and playful.
Your cheeks burn so hot youâre surprised you donât spontaneously combust. But youâre stubborn â so you just huff and follow him anyway, ignoring the smug little chuckle he lets out as he leads you down the hall. And then you step into his room â and freeze.
Because itâs... itâs not what you expect. Sure, itâs a little messy â loose clothes on a chair, half-done laundry â but what really grabs your attention is the shelf. More specifically: the shelf packed with colorful little figures. Posters. Framed prints. All of it instantly recognizable.
"...Is thatâ" you start, pointing.
"Digimon," Satoru says immediately, like he's bracing himself for judgment.
You stare. You blink. And then â you laugh. Loud, bright, uncontrollable.
He groans, dragging a hand down his face. "I knew it. I knew you were gonna make fun of me."
You grin at him, unrepentant. "You? Cool, confident, six-foot-whatever Gojo Satoru... secret Digimon stan? Oh, this is gold."
"Itâs not secret," he grumbles, crossing his arms like a petulant kid. "Digimonâs fucking awesome. Better than PokĂŠmon. Better story arcs, deeper charactersâ"
"You sound so defensive," you giggle, stepping closer to inspect a particularly adorable stuffed Agumon perched on his bed.
He steps up beside you, bumping your shoulder lightly with his and picks up the plushie to toss it somewhere else. "You're lucky you're cute," he mutters, mock-threatening, "or Iâd kick you out right now."
You bite back a smile, feeling that fluttery, giddy warmth bloom in your chest again. Because for all his teasing, all his cocky bravado â thereâs something painfully endearing about how unapologetically himself he is. No hiding. No shame. Just... Satoru.
"Youâre such a nerd," you say fondly.
Satoru smirks, eyes glinting mischievously. "Yeah? Still think Iâm a thirst trap though?"
You sputter, flustered all over again â and he cackles, so pleased with himself itâs criminal.
God. You are so screwed.
You perch awkwardly on the edge of his bed, notebook in your lap again, pretending youâre not hyper-aware of how huge his bed is, how close he is, how the mattress dips slightly under his weight when he flops down next to you.
"Alright," he says, stretching lazily, flashing a sliver of toned stomach again. "Serious time. Project planning. Let's go."
You nod, throat a little dry. "Serious," you echo, flipping open the notebook. "No distractions."
"None whatsoever," he agrees solemnly.
You start brainstorming, scribbling notes in the margins, muttering ideas under your breath. For a few minutes, everythingâs fine. Normal. Until you feel it â the slight brush of his knee against yours. At first, you think itâs an accident. You shift slightly to the side.
But then it happens again. And again.
And then â Satoru leans closer, peering over your shoulder, his breath warm against your cheek. His hand rests casually on the bed behind you, fingers curling ever so slightly around the edge of your shirt.
You pretend to ignore it. Pretend so hard it almost works.
But then he hums low in his throat â a thoughtful, lazy little sound â and lets his hand slide up, fingers brushing lightly against your lower back, and your entire body tenses.
"'Toru..." you murmur, trying for stern, but it comes out way too breathy. You donât even look at him â you canât â because you already know what youâll find: those blue eyes, lazy and half-lidded, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Focus," you manage, tapping the notebook for emphasis.
He leans in, so close his nose almost brushes your temple, and murmurs in a voice so low it makes your stomach flip:
"You make it hard to."
His hand is bold now â fingers tracing slow, idle patterns over the dip of your waist, so gentle it leaves a trail of fire in its wake. Your breath stutters in your throat. You feel your heart hammer against your ribs.
You finally â finally â dare a glance at him.
And heâs looking at you like heâs starving.
For you.
The tension is a physical thing now, heavy and thick in the air between you. You swear you can hear the blood rushing in your ears.
"...You're unbelievable," you whisper, the notebook slipping from your fingers.
His smirk deepens, shameless. "You like it."
God help you â you do.
You scramble, trying desperately to recover your sanity, to remember why youâre even here in the first place. The project. The project, dammit.
You slap your palm over the notebook, pushing it toward him. "W-We should reallyâ really focus," you stammer, voice wobbling embarrassingly.
He just grins, slow and easy, that grin that makes you forget your own name.
"I am focused," he says, voice dropping into that low, teasing rasp. "Focused on you."
And before you can react, he shifts â the bed dipping under his weight as he gently crowds into your space.
Your breath catches.
He cages you in with a hand planted firm beside your hip, his other hand curling loosely around your wrist like heâs giving you the option to pull away â like heâs daring you to.
You donât. You canât.
Youâre frozen, wide-eyed, heart thudding like crazy.
His forehead presses lightly to yours, and you feel the whisper of his breath against your lips.
"You drive me crazy, y'know that?" he murmurs, voice impossibly soft. Every word vibrates through you.
You open your mouth â to say what, youâre not sure â but no sound comes out. Youâre too busy trying not to melt.
And then he moves. Sudden but gentle, he presses you down against the mattress, his body hovering above yours, careful not to crush you.
Your hands instinctively fly up to his chest â oh, God his chest â and you feel the steady pound of his heartbeat under your palms.
Heâs close now, so close you can see every detail of his face â the slight pink flush on his cheeks, the playful crinkle at the corners of his eyes, the way his pupils are blown wide with something between affection and hunger.
"Youâre so cute when you're flustered," he teases, and you want to hate him for it, you really do.
But you donât. You can't.
Instead, you fist your hands in the soft fabric of his shirt and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will your racing pulse back to normal.
He chuckles, low and smug. Then â so lightly you almost think you imagined it â he brushes his nose along the side of your jaw, breathing you in.
"Youâre killing me," he whispers.
You whimper â actual, real, humiliating whimper â and he grins.
But he doesnât kiss you. Not yet.
He just stays there, letting the tension thicken, letting you squirm, savoring it.
Itâs agony. Itâs perfect.
You feel it â the exact moment his lips almost touch yours.
Itâs a whisper of a moment, barely-there, the ghost of contact that makes your whole body tense up in anticipation.
Heâs so close. So close you can taste the heat radiating off him, the sweet, addictive scent of his cologne, the lazy tilt of his grin as he leans inâ
And thatâs when you snap out of it.
At the very last second, you slip a hand between your bodies, planting your palm firmly against his chest to stop him.
His eyes fly open, confused, slightly wild.
You smile â sweet, smug â up at him.
"Uh-uh," you say, your voice still a little breathless but steady enough to make him narrow his eyes suspiciously. "Project first."
The sheer betrayal on his face.
"You've gotta be kidding me," he groans, dropping his forehead dramatically onto your shoulder like you just mortally wounded him. "I was so close, baby, c'monâ"
You cackle. Gojo finds it beautiful.
He lifts his head, leveling you with the most pathetic pout youâve ever seen. "You're evil," he accuses.
You just wiggle your eyebrows at him, smirking. "Should've thought about that before trying to seduce me in broad daylight, Gojo."
He collapses beside you with a dramatic huff, flopping back against the bed like his soul has been snatched from his body.
"Itâs almost 7. Unbelievable," he mutters. "This is harassment. I should sue."
You reach over, patting his chest twice, condescending and sweet. "There, there."
He turns his head, glaring at you â but the slight twitch of his lips gives him away.
"You owe me later," he says, pointing a finger at you like a solemn oath.
You hum, pretending to think it over, before shooting him a wicked little grin. "We'll see if you're good."
His groan is loud enough to rattle the bed.
You're absolutely thriving.
Youâre trying so hard to focus. You really are. Project notes scattered across the bed, laptop open, a half-written paragraph blinking at you like it's taunting your lack of progress.
And thenâ
"Break time!" Satoru declares, already tugging you off the bed by your wrist before you can even protest.
You stumble after him, laughing breathlessly. "Satoru, we barely got anything done!"
"Exactly why we need a break," he grins, dragging you toward the kitchen like a man on a mission. "Youâll thank me later."
You roll your eyes but let him haul you along, too curious (and maybe a little too charmed) to resist.
He lets go of your hand once you reach the kitchen and dramatically cracks his knuckles, looking far too proud of himself.
"Watch and learn, sweetheart," he says, shooting you a wink. "You're in the presence of greatness."
You snort, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter. "Oh yeah? You gonna burn the house down, master chef?"
He gasps â actually gasps â clutching his chest like you mortally wounded him. "You wound me."
You just laugh, watching as he rummages through the fridge with entirely too much flair, pulling out random ingredients and setting them on the counter.
"You're literally just making instant ramen," you point out dryly, but there's a smile tugging at your lips.
"Gourmet instant ramen," he corrects, wagging a finger at you. "With egg. And scallions. And a lilâ bit of love."
He tosses you another wink and you lose it, doubling over in silent laughter.
You lean back against the counter, arms folded, trying â and failing â to look unimpressed as he hums to himself, clattering pots around. Heâs in a black tank top and low-hanging shorts, muscles flexing casually with every movement, hair messy from dragging his hands through it.
And itâs... distracting. Way too distracting.
Especially when he starts cracking an egg one-handed like a cocky asshole.
"Show-off," you mutter under your breath.
"Donât act like youâre not impressed," he sing-songs, peeking at you from under snowy lashes, smug as hell.
You flip him off lazily. He just grins wider.
The kitchen fills with the scent of broth and spices, steam curling in the air. He moves with this effortless, chaotic sort of confidence â a little reckless, a little messy â but somehow everything comes together perfectly.
When he turns to you again, ramen bowl in hand, he looks so goddamn pleased with himself you want to laugh.
"See?" he says, stepping closer. "I'm basically husband material."
You tilt your head, raising a brow. "You make instant noodles and think you deserve a ring?"
"Handmade. Special edition. Enhanced with love." He winks, holding up the bowl like an offering. "You should be honored."
And even though you roll your eyes, you can't help the smile tugging at your lips â can't help the way your stomach flips stupidly as he steps even closer, towering over you with that lazy, confident grin.
-
You set the now-empty bowl down on the counter, nudging him with your elbow. "Since you whipped up such a gourmet meal, I guess the least I can do is the dishes."
Satoru leans back against the counter, grinning so wide it's almost embarrassing. "You spoil me."
You roll your eyes but start gathering up the dishes anyway, rinsing them under the tap. The warm water and simple task are oddly comforting, your movements easy, natural.
And from behind you, you can feel it â his gaze, warm and heavy, drinking you in like he's memorizing this moment.
Before you can even finish rinsing the second bowl, you feel him â long arms sliding around your waist, pulling you back into him, chest pressed against your back.
You huff a soft laugh, not bothering to fight it. "Needy much?"
He just hums, nose nudging into the crook of your neck, his hair tickling your skin. "You smell good," he mumbles, voice low and content.
"Why, thank you," you say, but itâs half a smile.
"I could get used to this," he murmurs, squeezing you a little tighter.
You finish up the dishes like that â his arms around you, his weight solid and comforting at your back, his soft little praises murmured into your ear in between.
"You're pretty," he says at one point, completely unprompted. "So pretty I don't know how I'm supposed to concentrate when you're around."
You duck your head, smiling to yourself, feeling your cheeks burn.
When you finally dry your hands and turn around to face him, he's already looking down at you with stars in his eyes, a little breathless like he can't believe you're real.
You loop your arms around his neck without thinking, tugging him a little closer, and he leans into it easily, lazily, like he's been waiting for this exact moment. "Can I kiss you yet?" he asks, grinning like an idiot, voice all hopeful and teasing.
You laugh, soft and fond, brushing your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. "Sure, loverboy."
And he doesn't waste a second â swooping down to finally, finally claim your lips in a kiss that's sweet and warm and a little clumsy with excitement, like he just canât hold it in anymore.
The moment your lips meet, itâs like something clicks into place.
At first, itâs a gentle brush of mouths, shy and smiling. He kisses you once, then twice, like he canât get enough, like heâs trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. But then you tilt your head just a little, arms tightening around his neck, and he groans â a low, helpless sound that rumbles against your chest.
And just like that, the kiss deepens.
His hands, which had been resting innocently at your waist, slide down â gripping your hips with a little more urgency, pulling you flush against him. You gasp softly into his mouth, and he takes full advantage, slotting his mouth over yours in a way that leaves your knees just barely holding you up. You feel it when his fingers flex, pressing you closer, when his body shudders lightly against yours.
God, heâs starving for you. You can feel it in the way he kisses â slow but hungry, like heâs been waiting for this, aching for it.
When he pulls back for just a breath, his forehead presses to yours, and his voice is ragged, wrecked. "Youâre gonna kill me," he whispers, before diving back in, more desperate this time.
You whimper into his mouth without meaning to, clutching at the front of his shirt, feeling the heat of him seeping into your palms.
Satoru groans again, hands sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing just under the hem of your shirt, skin to skin.
Itâs not rushed. Itâs not frantic. Itâs slow â simmering â like heâs savoring every second, like he wants this moment to stretch on forever.
And itâs only when his teeth gently tug at your bottom lip â when your breathing turns shallow and desperate against each other â that you finally, finally break away.
Both of you stand there for a second, breathing hard, faces flushed.
You feel dizzy. He looks completely wrecked.
Youâre both breathless when you pull apart, foreheads resting together, lips tingling.
Satoruâs hands are still on your waist, holding you close like heâs not ready to let go. You can feel the way his chest rises and falls against yours â shallow, like heâs trying to calm himself down.
He gives a short, breathy laugh. âJesus,â he mutters. âYouâre gonna be the death of me.â
You smile, dazed. âPretty sure thatâs mutual.â
Thereâs a beat of silence â heavy with everything unsaid â before he leans in again.
Hungrier. Rougher. Like heâs been holding back all night and canât anymore. His mouth moves over yours with unfiltered need, hands pulling you closer like itâs the only thing keeping him grounded.
You make a soft noise into his mouth, and it only spurs him on. The way he kisses you â itâs not perfect. Itâs messy and fast and desperate, teeth catching on your lower lip, hands gripping tight like heâs scared youâll slip away.
Your fingers wind into the fabric of his tank top, pulling him even closer until youâre practically wrapped around him.
He breaks the kiss just barely, lips brushing yours as he breathes out, âTell me if itâs too much.â
You shake your head. âItâs not. Iââ You swallow. âI want this. You.â
His expression softens for a split second before that heat comes rushing back. His mouth is back on yours, slower this time but no less intense â like heâs trying to memorize how you taste.
When his hand slips under your shirt and settles on the small of your back, warm and firm, you shiver.
He kisses you like he means it. Like he feels it.
And when you finally pull back again, breathless and flushed, he just smiles â eyes glassy, voice low.
âYou have no idea what youâre doing to me.â
You barely have time to catch your breath before heâs kissing you again.
No warning, no hesitation â just the searing press of his mouth against yours like heâs starving for it. Like he needs more. And you give in without thinking, letting him pull you closer until thereâs not a sliver of space left between your bodies.
His hands are on your waist, fingers tightening like heâs trying to anchor himself. And when your hands slide up his chest, over those broad shoulders, he groans into your mouth â low and wrecked.
Itâs dizzying, the way he kisses you. Every time you think heâll stop, he comes back for more â messier, deeper, rougher. Your fingers tangle in his hair as his lips trail down to your jaw, then your neck, slow and hot and reverent.
And then suddenly, he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes.
His voice is breathless, raw. âHold on.â
Before you can ask what he means, he lifts you â effortlessly, like itâs the most natural thing in the world. You let out a startled gasp, arms wrapping around his neck as he carries you through the apartment. Your heartâs hammering so hard youâre sure he can feel it.
Heâs grinning now, cocky and breathless all at once. âI warned you Iâm husband material.â
âShut up,â you mutter against his neck, flustered beyond reason.
But thereâs no hiding the way your legs tighten around his waist.
He nudges his bedroom door open with his foot, stepping inside, and the second youâre both in, he sets you down gently. And just like that, heâs on you again â kissing you like heâs waited his whole life for this.
His mouth is still on yours when he shifts forward, slowly pressing you back until your knees hit the edge of the bed. You stumble slightly, gripping his arms for balanceâand the second your weight tips back, he goes with you.
The two of you collapse onto the mattress in a tangled mess of limbs and breathless laughter, but heâs quick to recover. Quick to pin you there beneath him, hands braced on either side of your head, his hips snug between your thighs.
He looks down at you like heâs never seen anything more beautiful.
And then that glint returnsâdangerous and wicked and so unlike the stammering nerd you met on day one.
âYou have no idea what you do to me,â he breathes, voice low and rough in your ear.
You shiver.
His lips find the side of your neck again, and this time they donât lingerâthey devour. Hot, open-mouthed kisses that make your back arch, that pull quiet, helpless sounds from your throat. His hands wander too, slow at first, fingertips tracing the curve of your waist, your hips, every line and dip he can find.
You reach for him, needing moreâbut he grabs your wrists, pins them gently above your head with one hand.
âNuh-uh,â he smirks. âIâm in charge now.â
Youâre just about to sass him when he dips down again, this time trailing kisses down your collarbone. Then lower. He peppers slow, aching kisses across your chest, teasing the hem of your top with his free hand.
And then he sits up, straddling your hips, eyes practically burning.
âCan I tell you a secret?â he asks, and itâs a loaded question.
You nod.
He leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear. âI jacked off to the thought of you the other night.â
Your breath catchesâyour whole body burns.
âAfter that text you sent,â he goes on, voice like velvet laced with sin. âYou have no idea what you did to me. I read it once and couldnât stop imagining it. Youâwhispering in my ear like that, all sweet and smug and filthy.â
He moves again, kisses dragging hot and slow down the slope of your neck, and then your chest, until heâs tugging your shirt up and over your head.
âI was in bed,â he murmurs. âOne hand on my phone. The otherâŚâ He lets the implication hang, but his hand slips down your thigh, then up again, teasing, until your breath comes in sharp gasps.
âI was thinking about you,â he says. âAbout your voice. About what youâd look like straddling me, telling me what you wanted while I fucked up into you so slow.â
Your hips buck at thatâand god, the smirk that pulls at his lips should be illegal.
He starts undressing you slowly, worshipping, like every piece he reveals is a treasure. âI need you,â he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. His voice is hoarse, eyes searching yours like he needs you to understand.Â
The kiss that follows is devastatingâopen-mouthed and hungry, a collision of breath and teeth and need. Youâre clawing at his clothes like they personally offended you, yanking at the hem of his shirt with fumbling fingers and a frustrated groan.
âOff,â you hiss against his lips.
He laughs, breathless, tugging it over his head and tossing it aside, revealing smooth skin and defined muscle, the dip of his waist disappearing into those loose shorts you suddenly despise.
You push at them with impatient hands, and he grinsâcocky, flushed, wrecked and loving every second of it. âDesperate, huh?â he teases, voice still husky from the kiss.
âYouâre one to talk,â you shoot back, dragging your nails down his sides. âYouâre not exactly subtle, loverboy.â
Heâs all hands again thenâroaming your body, trailing heat in their wake as he presses you down into the bed, lips never far from your skin. Every motion is frantic and reverent all at once, like heâs starving but determined to savor every inch of you.
You push at his chest gently, and he lets you, eyebrows raised in surprise as his back hits the mattress.
âOh?â he breathes, propping himself up on his elbows. âTaking control now?â
âDidnât you say I killed you the other night?â you murmur, crawling between his legs with a sly smile. âFigured I should finish the job.â
His eyes darken immediatelyâheat blooming in them so fast itâs dizzying. âYou have no idea what youâre doing to me.â
You doâbecause the second your hands slide up his thighs, heâs already sucking in a breath, already biting back a groan. His abs tense under your touch, his head tipping back as he watches you through lidded eyes, gaze glazed over with anticipation.
âYou been thinking about this, âToru?â you ask softly, dragging your nails lightly along the waistband of his shorts.
He swallows thickly. âEvery night.â
And when you finally tug his waistband down, your breath catches.
He's thick, long and heavy, flushed a pretty pink at the tip, and already straining toward you like heâs been waiting for this moment forever. Your mouth parts without thinking. You donât even realize youâre staring until he lets out a shaky, nervous laugh. Your hands wrap around him and his hips instinctively buck upwards.
âFuckfuckfuckfuck,â he mutters, voice gravelly.
Heâs already goneâchest rising and falling in short, sharp breaths. His hands clutch the sheets when you lean in, letting your tongue flick across the swollen head, tasting him.Â
âOh fuckââ
You take your time. You donât give him all of it, not yet. You swirl your tongue around the tip, teasing the slit until he hisses between clenched teeth. He jolts when you lick a slow stripe along the underside, right at the base where itâs most sensitive, your fingers cradling him, gentle and thorough.
He groansâloud and rawâand you feel his hands fist the sheets tighter.
âYouâre killing me,â he pants, head tipping back, voice nearly wrecked.
And still, you donât rush. You bob your head slowly, steadily, sinking down deeper with each pass until his abs tighten and he moansâloud, desperate. You feel him twitch on your tongue, hear the soft, breathy curse that falls from his lips as you wrap your hand around him and roll your wrist just right. You squeeze his balls and he nearly sobs.
You glance up through your lashes, and the sight of himâhead tossed back, jaw clenched, face flushed, his entire body shaking with restraintâis seared into your memory.
You donât take your eyes off him, not even as you hollow your cheeks and take him deeper. Heâs so closeâyou can feel it in the way his thighs tense, the way his breath stutters, the broken sound he makes when you moan around him.
âFuckâbaby, Iâm gonnaââ
You donât stop. You want it. Want to see him fall apart. And he does, with a choked groan that rips out of his chest as he spills into your mouth, hot and thick. His hand flies to your hair, not to pull you awayâbut to keep you there, his hips giving the slightest jerk as he rides it out. You swallow it all only pulling off when he starts to twitch. And when you finally draw back, lips slick and chin damp, he looks completely undone.Â
âHoly shit,â he breathes, dazed.Â
You just smile sweetly and wipe the corner of your mouth with your thumb.
Heâs still catching his breath when you go to pull back fully, smug and satisfied. âMm-hm,â he hums, voice rough and curling with mischief. His hand catches your wrist, firm but gentle. âMy turn, sweetheart.â
You blink. âOh?â
Before you can tease him back, he movesâeffortlessly. One arm wraps around your waist, the other plants on the bed, and in a single fluid motion heâs pulling you up, flipping you like you weigh nothing and settling you inches away from his face. You squeakâactually squeakâas your knees plant on either side of his head.
âSatoruââ
âShh.â He grins, that ridiculous confident smirk plastered across his flushed face. âSit, baby. Be good for me.â
He gives your ass a squeeze, encouraging, eyes gleaming up at you. You hesitate for half a second and he adds, voice dipped low and sinfully sweet,
âYou got to have your fun.â
Then he pulls you down.
His mouth is on you immediatelyâhot and unrelenting. Tongue flicking, lips sealing around your clit as he groans like you taste better than anything heâs ever had. His hands grip your thighs, fingers digging into soft flesh, holding you there like heâs starving and youâre the feast. And when your hips twitch, instinctively trying to lift offâhe drags you right back down.
âOh no, sweetheart,â he murmurs against you, voice muffled and vibrating through your core, âI said sit.â
Youâre braced against the headboard now, knees shaking, thighs clenched tight around his head as you grind downâslow at first, then faster, chasing that high with ragged breath and trembling limbs.
Heâs not just letting you. Heâs encouraging it.
Big hands grope your ass, fingers digging in, guiding you against his mouth like he wants you to lose it. His tongue moves with practiced precision, sucking and flicking, drawing soft whimpers and broken gasps from your lips as your body arches.
You glance down again and the sight nearly finishes youâhis eyes half-lidded and dazed, cheeks flushed, hair a total mess from how many times youâve tugged on it.
He looks wrecked. But heâs moaning like heâs in heaven. Like this is exactly where he wants to be.
And then he says itâmuffled, half-choked, voice thick with lust and absolutely feral. âSo fucking sweet.â
You grind harder, hips rolling, and he groans into you.
He doesnât care if he canât breathe. Doesnât care if heâs dizzy. Doesnât care if youâre seconds from suffocating him. Heâs already decided this is how he wants to go out.
Buried between your thighs, mouth full of you, hands holding you down like youâre sacred.
And when you finally breakâback arching, eyes fluttering shut, thighs clamping around his head as your orgasm crashes through youâhe doesnât stop. Not for a second.
He rides it out with you, tongue still moving, swallowing every sound you make.
When he finally lets go you collapse beside him, completely spent, your body still trembling in the aftermath. Your cheek presses into the pillow, breath catching in your throat as you try to come back to yourself. Satoru shifts next to you, propping himself up on one elbow. He brushes your hair back gently, eyes soft, and asks quietly,
âYou okay?â
You nod, still catching your breath. âYeah. Justâholy shit.â
He huffs a small laugh and leans down to kiss your shoulder, warm and unhurried. âGood.â
You feel him watching you for a second longer, like heâs making sure youâre really alright. You stretch out, boneless and warm, assuming this is the part where you both wind down.
But then his hand slides down your back.
You feel him shift behind you, and when you glance over your shoulder, his expressionâs changed. Still gentleâbut focused. Hungrier.
âYou done?â he asks softly, voice right at your ear now.
You blink. âI⌠thought we were.â
He smiles, and itâs a little crooked, a little smugâbut not cocky. Just him.
âNot even close.â
Before you can respond, his hands are on your hips, guiding you forward. You let him, moving onto your knees again, bracing your hands against the headboard as the mattress shifts beneath you. He settles behind you slowly, fingers trailing up your sides. The air changesâmore intimate now, more intense.
âYou okay like this?â he murmurs.
You nod.
âGood.â He kisses the back of your neck. âHold on to something.â
He settles behind you again, one hand steady on your hip, the other guiding himself down. You feel the slow drag of him through your foldsâwarm, thick, and deliberate. You suck in a breath, hips twitching slightly. But he doesnât press in. Just rocks forward enough to slide himself through you again. And again.
Your fingers curl tighter around the headboard. ââŚSatoru,â you breathe.
âMhm?â His voice is low, calm. Way too calm for what heâs doing.
You try to push back into him, but he keeps you where he wants youâjust a firm, gentle grip at your hip keeping you still.
Heâs quiet for a moment. You glance over your shoulder and catch the look on his face: focused, a little tense, clearly feeling itâbut taking his time anyway.
âYouâre doing that on purpose,â you mutter.
A breath of a laugh leaves him. âYeah. Kind of.â
Your forehead drops forward. ââToruâŚâ
He groans softlyâjust a little, like heâs trying not toâbut doesnât stop. Just drags himself over you again, slower now. âGod, you feel good,â he mutters. âI just⌠give me a second.â
You shift again, needy and frustrated, and he finally stills behind you, tip resting right where you want him. You both freeze.
ââŚYou okay?â he asks quietly.
You nod, exhaling hard. âPlease.â
Thereâs a beat. And then he leans forward, lips brushing your shoulder, voice quiet and serious against your skin. âYeah. I got you. Just spread âem a bit for me⌠yeah, thatâs it.â
He eases in with that first, deep strokeâslow enough to feel every inch of him push through your walls. The stretch burns just a little, but the heat in your core blooms even hotter. Heâs thick, heavy, and you feel every vein drag along your inner walls, textured and pulsing, making your whole body clench around him without thinking.
Behind you, Satoru groansâlow and raw, like itâs dragging out of his chest. âGod⌠you feel unreal,â he mutters, breath shaky.
He holds still once heâs fully inside, his hips pressed against the swell of your ass, his hand flexing on your waist like heâs trying not to move too fast. His cock twitches inside you and you gasp at how full you feelâyour body stretched and throbbing around him, nerves lighting up from the inside out.
âOkay?â he murmurs, lips brushing the back of your shoulder.
You nod, voice barely there. âYeah. Justâfuck, Satoru.â
He pulls out slow, almost all the way, and you feel every ridge of him drag against your soaked walls. Then he sinks back in with a soft grunt, and you swear you feel him throb againâyour body squeezing around him on instinct.
The pace he sets is slow but deep, grinding into you just right, the friction steady and maddening. Your thighs are trembling already, your hands gripping the headboard like itâs the only thing keeping you grounded.
Every time he pushes in, his cock presses against that spongy spot deep inside you, and every time he pulls out, itâs this slow, deliberate scrape that leaves you gasping. Thereâs no space left between youâjust wet heat and tension, pressure building with every stroke.
And thenâhis hand moves. Slides down from your waist, slipping between your legs, fingers finding your clit with no hesitation. The first pass is light, almost teasing.
You jolt. âSatoruâ!â
âI got you,â he says quietly, like a promise. His thumb circles you, slow and tight, while his other hand braces your hip steady against him. And all the while, he keeps fucking into youâdeeper now, rhythm starting to slip, strokes a little rougher, his breath coming harder against your skin.
âYou feel so good around me,â he murmurs, thumb pressing down just a little harder. âSo warm. So tight. You keep squeezing me like that, babyâfuck.â
Your whole body is shaking now, moaning helplessly as his fingers keep working your clit, dragging you closer and closer to the edge. Every stroke is slick, deep, devastating. You can hear the wet sounds of him sliding in and out of you, the soft slap of skin, his strained breathingâyour own whimpers growing louder with every thrust.
The pressure builds sharp and fast, your body locking up as your orgasm crashes toward youâ
And Satoruâs still going. Still thumbing your clit, still grinding his cock into you like he canât get enough.
Your body tightens around him without warning, breath catching as the pleasure crestsâsharp, blinding, unstoppable. You cry out, head dropping as your orgasm rips through you, muscles clenching so hard around his cock that it knocks the air out of both of you.
âOh myâfuck, thatâs itââ Satoru groans, stuttering inside you as your walls flutter and squeeze around him.
Youâre still shaking, coming down from the high, when he slowsâlets you ride it out, then carefully pulls out, the sudden emptiness making you gasp. You barely have time to blink before heâs flipping you onto your back like you weigh nothing.
He spreads your thighs open, throws your legs over his shoulders, and lines himself up again with a low, strained breath. His eyes meet yoursâstill soft, but blown wide, jaw tight with restraint. Thereâs nothing teasing left in him now.
He doesnât ask this time. Doesnât wait. He thrusts back in hardâdeepâand keeps going.
No more slow buildup. No more holding back. Just relentless, steady driveâhis hips snapping into yours over and over, the wet sound of skin meeting skin filling the room.
You gasp, fingers flying to his forearms as he leans over you, caging you in. His pace is brutal now, almost punishing, but it never stops feeling goodâthe angle perfect, the pressure hitting deep with every stroke.
âSatoruââ you sob, voice cracking.
He groans through gritted teeth, muscles tense, hips moving like heâs possessed. âYouâre soâfuckingâtight.â
You can barely think. Your legs tremble over his shoulders, body arching with every thrust, your orgasm still making aftershocks ripple through you.
He reaches down between you again, hand slipping to your clit like itâs second natureâhis thumb moving in tight, fast circles that make your back arch off the bed. âYou gonna give me another one?â he pants, voice rough and shaking. âCome on, sweetheartâI know you can.â
You donât even answer. You canât. The pressureâs already building againâtoo fast, too much, your body barely holding on as he keeps fucking into you like heâs been waiting for this all night.
You feel him twitch inside you, hear his breathing hitchâbut he still doesnât come. Heâs chasing you again, driving into you like your pleasure is the only thing that matters.
You donât know how he keeps going like this. His pace is ruthless, hips pistoning into you like heâs been starving for itâbut itâs the focus that kills you. Heâs watching every twitch in your body, every gasp, every time your walls flutter around him like heâs memorizing it.
Then he shiftsâleans in until your knees are almost pinned to your chest, folding you in half under him. The new angle makes you cry out, his cock hitting impossibly deep, your body arching beneath the weight of him. âYou feel that?â he breathes, voice rough and close to a growl now. âSo deep inside you, baby. Just like this.â
And thenâhis mouth is on your chest. You gasp when he takes your nipple between his lips, tongue circling, sucking slow and steady while his hips never stop. The hot pull of his mouth makes your toes curl, especially when his free hand moves to palm your other breastâthumb brushing over the sensitive peak, fingers squeezing just enough to make you whimper.
Itâs too much. Youâre overstimulatedâhis cock still driving into you, thumb still tight and unrelenting on your clit, his mouth sucking, teasing, biting gently down before soothing with his tongue.
Pleasure spikes sharp and fast, and itâs not buildingâitâs crashing. Your entire body locks up as the heat inside you explodes again, white-hot and shattering, a sob wrenching out of your throat. âFuckâSatoruâ!â Your cunt clenches tight around him, waves of pleasure ripping through you, and he feels it. You feel him falter, his rhythm breaking as he groans like youâve just knocked the wind out of him.
âShitâfuckâfuck, Iâmâ,â he doesnât even finish the sentence before heâs coming too, hips jerking as he spills inside you with a choked moan. You can feel him pulsing deep inside, every twitch of his cock matching the aftershocks still tearing through you.
He holds you tight through it, arms wrapped around your back, forehead pressed to your shoulder as you both shake through the comedownânothing but breathless curses filling the room.
You donât even realize your eyes have fluttered shut until you feel him shift, just a gentle repositioning of his weight as he carefully pulls outâslow, like he doesnât want to hurt you. You wince, breath catching at the sting, and immediately his voice is there, low and warm in your ear. âHey, you with me?â
You nod faintly, your body boneless, brain melted, heart still pounding. He kisses your shoulderâonce, twiceâand gently lowers your legs from where theyâre still draped over him, massaging your thighs like he knows theyâre trembling.
âOkay,â he murmurs. âIâll be right back, yeah? Donât move.â
You canât even laugh at that. He gets up anyway, grabbing the closest towel and heading to the bathroom, still totally naked, completely unbothered. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror across the roomâhair a mess, chest flushed, thighs shakingâand you groan, flopping back against the sheets.
By the time he returns, youâre still half out of it, and he just smiles, fond and lazy as he nudges your legs apart again. âEasy,â he whispers, wiping you down gently, taking his time like youâre made of glass now. âYou did so good for me, baby. So fucking good.â
You sigh as he finishes, and the second heâs done, he tosses the towel and climbs back into bed with youâpulling you against his chest, arms wrapped tight around your waist like heâs anchoring himself. You melt into him, cheek pressed against his collarbone and he grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
A pause. ThenââYouâre unreal, you know that?â he murmurs. âI mean, I already knew, butâJesus.â
You roll your eyes, lips twitching. âYouâre just saying that âcause I made you come so hard you forgot your own name.â
âSweetheart,â he says solemnly, âDonât be mean.â
You laughâtired, softâand he smiles at the sound.
Then quieter: âYouâre incredible.â He leans in, presses a kiss to your forehead.
You bury your face in his chest, heart warm and too full. âStop being sweet,â you mumble.
âNever.â He grins.
You donât say anything for a while. Just breatheâslow and steadyâas his hand runs gently along your back, grounding you. The roomâs quiet now, save for the soft hum of the city outside the window, and the faint rustle of sheets as you both settle into the aftermath. He shifts just enough to pull the blanket higher over the two of you, tucking you in without saying a word.
Your eyes are heavy, but you blink them open to look at him. Heâs already watching youâmessy hair, flushed cheeks, the ghost of a smile on his lips like he canât quite believe youâre real.
âWhat?â you murmur, voice rough with sleep.
He shrugs a little, eyes soft. âNothing. Just⌠youâre kinda perfect, yâknow?â
You snort under your breath, too tired to fight it. âDonât start.â
He chuckles, nose brushing your hair as he tucks you in closer. âI wonât. Promise.â
Thereâs a pause, just the two of you breathing in sync, his thumb stroking slow circles into your hip. âStay here tonight,â he whispers.
âBut âToru⌠we have class tomorrow.â
He groans dramatically into your skin. âLetâs bunk.â
You snort. âYou say that every time.â
âBecause itâs the right answer every time.â He lifts his head enough to look at you, hair sticking up in every direction, eyes still heavy-lidded but shamelessly clingy. âCâmon. Itâs late. Just stay.â
You hesitate, even though youâre already leaning toward yes. He catches that and nudges his knee between yours, coaxing you closer.
âIâll set an alarm,â he adds. âYou can wear one of my shirts. Iâll even make you coffee in the morning.â
You huff a quiet laugh. âAre you trying to bribe me?â
He shrugs. âDidnât think I had to.â
You roll your eyes, but youâre already settling in again, your cheek resting over his heartbeat. âFine,â you murmur. âBut if we oversleep, Iâm blaming you.â
He hums, content. âThatâs fair.â
So you stay like thatâcomfortable and a little too in love to care about anything. And with Satoruâs arms around youâhis breath steady against your skin, his presence anchoring youâyou drift off. No words needed. Just safe. Just held.
Perfect.
author's note. whoever started the nerdjo agenda, i owe you my firstborn child
please do not steal, modify, or translate my work.
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What even is JJK?
Hello JJK community!! I am an avid fanfic reader who was going through a crisis, accidentally stumbled across a JJK SMAU post, and triggered a hyperfixation (yayy)
I thought it might be fun to stumble my way through figuring out what is going on here with as little official information as possible. This post is my attempt to understand JJK from SMAU and fanfic alone! To be clear, I have NOT read or watched the anime/manga - this is just my interpretation for wtf is going on here.
A few things before we get into this -
Spoiler Warnings! This should be obvious, but since I've never watched/read the show I don't actually know what is considered a spoiler or not. Please read on with caution~
Newbie Warning! I am so new into this fandom, and it is a lot bigger than the ones I've been in before. This post is supposed to be fun, and I am coming from a place of good faith. If I accidentally commit a faux pas, please be kind!
Foul Language Warning! Most of this was written stream of conscious style over two weeks as I was struggling through some tough stuff IRL. My tone is tongue in cheek, and I did not pay much attention to grammar or minding my language. I don't say anything too crazy, but I am perhaps too liberal with certain four letter words.
With that said! Please enjoy my delirious ramblings as I make sense of this batshit crazy world. I had so much fun with this, and I hope you like it?
OKKKK SO (who is who, pt 1/?; i got some questions):
Did Shoko really cheat her way through medical school?
Toji is ?? An assassin with one?? two?? Dead wives?? Are we suspicious or nah
Also like, Toji? Sometimes he's written like an ass, sometimes like a strung out single dad?
yuuji is ..... chosos brother... somehow...?
Megumi isâŚâŚ. Tojis son? But also sometimes gojos adopted son?? Or at least mentee??
Speaking of Megs, here are some thoughts I had while figuring this effer out:
-Man, Megumi really likes dogs i guess, thats cool
-Oh huh, whats a shikigami?
-oh, that sounds pretty cool
*sees dogs mentioned again*
-cue: holy shit moment
-i straight up thought he was overly obsessed with dogs. Like as a character trait because its mentioned so much.Â
-ykw ig he still is
-can you pet them?
Shibuya:
At first, mentions of Shibuya went over my head. Then, three or four days in, I read an smau where nanami made plans with the reader to do something as soon as he returned from Shibuya. It was really so sweet! But⌠ummâŚ. The comments did not agree?
So this is the first time i googled anything, and found myself on the wiki. And uh, yeah, fuck you guys /s
And i was like, I wonder who else has died then?? And guys, i gotta be honest, I did NOT like it !! đĽš
alright, I got distracted.
Trying to figure out who is affiliated with who from smau/fanfic alone is nearly impossible (who is who pt 2/?).Â
Eventually, you get here:
Most people - jj sorcerers/tokyo high
Toji + shiu - assassins
Kenjaku + mahito (mojito)? = freaky bitches (also is it just me or is mahitos design kinda.... đ no? just me?)
Choso - ???????? I genuinely cant tell?????? Sometimes yuuji is his brother and sometimes hes with the freaky bitches ??????? Is he a good girl gone bad ?? A bad girl gone good ?? Is he meaning yuuji like as a vessel of sakuna and sakuna is his half brother???? because apparently the whole main point of the goddamn show is that yuuji ate one of sakunas fingers and is his vessel or whatever??
And speaking of that, how did i not know yuuji and megumi (and⌠nobaraâŚ?) are the protagonists?? I went days without googling the premise of the show (yup.) and i was floored, lemme tell you! I really had no idea what was going on, yall đ
So back to who is who again (pt 3/?, Geto edition) -
Ok. So..... OK. Geto, right? WTF is up here? here's what I've got
Geto + gojo (and Shoko!) = #besties
Geto has a crisis
Now hes racist
Aaaaaand slaughters a village (and his family??? is that right??)
Geto + gojo = #breakup
Gojo is real sad about it
10 years later geto comes back and gojo kills him
Geto is reanimated by the freakiest looking yeerk ive ever seen (does anyone even know animorphs anymore or is that series a fever dream I made up?)
#sadboi vibes only plz #trapped in the prison realm #justGojothings #honestly fuck the Shibuya arc
okay ANDDDD -
Gojo + Geto + KFC = ???!
y'all i see them referenced with KFC all the time. this is definitely a private joke that I am not in on lmao
moving on!
Sakuna v Gojo.
Yeah, fuck this arc too honestly. Gojo's my favorite. Sue me! I'm basic! I never said I wasn't!
back to CHOSO again (my beloathed <3) (who is who pt 4/?):
I have figured it out!! Choso was with the freaky bitches to avenge his brothers, then somehow figured out that Yuuji is his half brother and badda bing, bad girl turns good. love to see it.
But, is it cannon??
Some of these are characters are written so baby girl-ified that i think id be upset reading the source material. Like⌠is choso really that sweet and innocent? He is written as the sweetiest of baby gorls. But like isnt he an antagonist? I suspect he probably has one or two scenes in canon that are naĂŻve and endearing, and the fanfic girlies ran with it. As they absolutely should. But im attached this version now and I dont want that ruined đ I've seen yall bitch about the white dog thing in SMAU, but you know what? I love it here in delulu land and im sticking with it.
Also, I have a feeling that Nanami is just a serious guy with a stick up his ass. Do I love how he is written? yes. Do I stan a romantic family man? idk, ask my husband (yes, I do). Do I think he is TOTALLY different in cannon? Absolutely
Do I think Geto is this tragic, heartbreaking villian in cannon? Yeah, I think that's probably right. but i mean, genocidal maniac is kindve hard to reconcile with how he is portrayed in the ficdom universe. Also, I love how many people just choose to simply ignore his betrayal arc and pretend it simply â¨didnt happenâ¨. i love it and im living for it.
There are about 10,000 different portrayals of Gojo in fic. Some common themes are:
fuckboy gojo
sadboy gojo
lovesick gojo
emotionally unavailable gojo
I think most right is probably #4? idk man, if my life was in danger all the time and I was viewed as (at best) nothing more than a weapon by society AND my best friend betrayed me like this? I probably would also float through life with minimal attachments and a laissez faire attitude. but then this is also challenged by his clear attachment to the protagonists (who are, apparently, the students and not the teachers)
Will I watch/read this anime/manga?
Honestly?? Idk yall. I kinda mentioned this earlier, but I have now gotten attached to these characters as they are in my head. in delulu land. Also, my real life still kinda sucks rn, and idk if I am currently built for the death and betrayal and ANGST in my fantasy world too, thank you very much.
That said, my brother in law is begging me to watch it since he heard im doing this. This world is genuinely so complex and interesting, and the magic system is fascinating. AND it would be interesting to go through it and see what ive actually gotten right and what ive gotten just so, so wrong.
Maybe if anyone actually reads this and it picks up traction ill consider it, and do a follow up post with the right and the wrong
N E Ways! I think that's about all the word vomit I am capable of right now. if anyone actually read all this, I hope you enjoyed my nonsensical ramblings! feel free to tell me what I got right, what I got wrong, or how good/bad my takes are.
#jujustu kaisen#gojo satoru#geto suguru#nanami kento#shoko ieiri#itadori yuuji#fushiguro megumi#toji fushiguro#jjk sakuna#jjk x reader#jjk smau#jjk gojo#jjk geto#jjk nanami#jjk megumi#jjk toji#kenjaku#i am so bad at tagging lol#what did i even talk about in this post#choso kamo#jjk choso#jjk yuuji#ryomen sukuna
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