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sshuumii · 3 months ago

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ALL MINE!

♡ summary: you wanted to be mad at them but how could you when they're hitting it so good!

✰ starring: toji, choso, gojo.

♡ wc: 2.7k

♡ content warnings: fem! reader, chokíng, overstím, breaking furniture, making up, unprotected, car sex, jealousy, squírting, bréeding, mating press, cowgirl, begging, pet names, crying.

♡ a/n: running on post freak week fumes!!

TOJI ♡ FUSHIGURO

Toji was an asshole through and through. He would avoid your calls and you wouldn't see him for days. When you asked him where he was he wouldn't answer, only telling you that it wasn't your business. Perhaps you could understand that but when he missed your anniversary and didn't come home that night you had enough.

You knew you would regret this later, but the way he was looking at you when he entered through that door, your mind blanked out. The speech you had prepared, ready to tell him you were done with this back-and-forth, you even practiced in the mirror. But the curve of his cock stretching out your walls you completely forgot what you were mad at him for. His calloused hand was heavy on the bottom of your spine pushing your arch deeper.

“Never leavin’ you again baby,” Toji grumbled, forcing you to meet his powerful thrusts. You could only choke out a moan in response. Your upper body dug into the plush couch, your nails digging into the cushion. “Gotta make up for lost time-” he groaned, his eyes focused on the way your cunt wrapped around him so tightly like you were made just for him. So perfect. He doesn't even know how he lasted so long without you. He could barely restrain himself from breaking into your apartment after you told him to leave a week ago. When you called him to “pick up his things” both of you knew neither would last. He had you bent over the couch within 5 minutes of entering the apartment.

The strength in your legs was starting to give out, they slipped slightly, but Toji pulled you by the hips, keeping your lower half up. Your pussy was completely soaked, slick drooling down your thighs. You chanted his name like a prayer, a grin on his face whenever you looked over your shoulder. The couch was rocking against the flooring scratching up the wood, you almost felt bad for the apartment below you. The furniture creaked but was subdued by the sounds of moans and his skin hitting yours. “Toji- the couch,” you sobbed trying to get attention as he was too focused on your body.

“What about it?” he shrugged, not even slowing down to check. The way his tone dipped lower sent a shiver up your spine. Your walls convulsed around his cock signaling your incoming orgasm. He muttered something under his breath, you couldn't hear it over your own pants. The familiar tightening in your core pushed your tired body to keep up with him. You tried to force your voice out to the couches rocking, but only sobs came out only pushing him to chase his own climax. “We tried it your way,” he moaned your name as your gummy walls tensed around him. Your eyes rolled back, your mind going white digging your nails into the couch cushion. With a final thrust, his hips snapped into yours painting your insides white.

He sat inside you for a minute enjoying how warm you were. “Oh shit…” he laughed, pulling your body onto his lap; his cock still hard inside.

“What?”

“We broke the couch.” He smiled leaving kissing on your nape. If you weren’t so fucked out you'd kick his ass but you’ll enjoy the moment.

CHOSO ♡ KAMO

The girl smiled pushing her tits higher flaunting them to your boyfriend. Any other time you sensed some girl trying to flirt with your boyfriend right in front of you then you'd cuss her ass out and send her running where she came. Watching from one of the seats a few tables away from them. Sure Choso could be a little oblivious but this was either being blind to the girl flirting with you or letting her instead of declining. You held yourself back from getting up and socking him in the face for everyone to see. You waited patiently just so you could see how he acted when other women came up to him.

You stared daggers into them and if looks could kill they would both be six feet under. Choso’s brown eyes met yours and instantly he gave her a curt smile before nodding and she walked off with a look of glee on her face. When you approached his table you pulled the seat from across from him. He looked at you confused, you didn't try to hide the annoyance on your face. “What was that about?” you asked looking behind you to the girl at the table with her friends giggling.

“Oh, she came over to ask for my number,” he said as though it was nothing like a daily occurrence. He was attractive though you weren't the one to ask him out first you were eyeing him for a while. He picked up his phone from the table shoving it into his pockets, your eyes followed his movements like a hawk.

“Did you give it to her?” you questioned him about the waiter coming up with your drinks and setting them on the table. You would have thought it was sweet for him to order your favorite drink but the only thing on your mind was the situation that had unfolded in front of you previously. Choso thanked her as the waiter scurried away awkwardly away from the two of you.

“Hm?” he took a sip of his iced coffee looking up at you. You tried to keep your composer and not blow up on him, perhaps there is a good explanation and he didn't give it to her. Deep breathes.

“Your number. Did you give it to her?” you would like to believe you weren't one of those jealous girlfriends who would go ballistic when someone would simply talk to their partner but the way irritation picked at your nerves it was going to take your will alone to not lose your mind.

“Yeah?” he looked at you like you were crazy for asking. Your knee bounced taking a sip of your drink. The expression of plain confusion on his face sent you off the handle. You really tried, you didnt raise your voice not once instead you sucked down the rest of your drink Instead you told him that the both of you needed to go.

In the car, he tried to hold onto your thigh but you swatted him away. He may be oblivious but he wasn't an idiot. Your arms stayed crossed over your chest looking out the window. The car was silent only the sound of his playlist playing, you zoned out recapping what happened at the cafe to make sure you weren't crazy. Every time you came to the same conclusion, he must have lost his mind.

Choso pulled into an empty parking lot. “Are you okay? What is wrong?” He looked genuinely concerned. You stared at him in disbelief. If this has happened this time while you're around it has most definitely happened when you weren't.

“How would you feel if I gave my number to another guy?” you put it from his perspective, you could practically see the gears turning in your head before a lightbulb went off. His hand landed on your thigh rubbing circles on it. He knew how much you loved his touch, that when he knew you were furious even after arguments you would still let him touch you.

“Bad,” he answered shortly after the thought alone made his skin crawl. “Carrie is in my lit class and she was asking for my number for notes.” now he could see why you were mad, that's a step forward. You really tried not to look him in his eyes or else you would forgive him. You needed to stand on business.

“She was so obviously flirting with you Choso, she didnt want it for no fucking notes.” irritation laced your voice. You needed to make this very clear now or else it would happen again.

“Carrie? She knows I'm with you though.” he turned his body fully towards you. He replayed what happened in his head, Carrie was being a little weird but he assumed she was just really friendly. You started to speak up until a message from an unknown number popped up on the infotainment system.

“Hey Choso, it's Carrie, do you want to go see a movie before studying?”

The both of you stared at the message. Bingo. “Holy shit you're right.” he went on his phone pulled up her contact and typed a quick no and that he would just send the notes she missed digitally. He showed his phone to you as you stared at the messages. You might have lost it had she sent a single emoji. “I'm sorry baby I didn't realize I would've told her no had I seen it.” he looked sincere, searching your face for an ounce of approval. You held up the poker face even as he leaned over the car’s console kissing you on the cheek. His lips continued to kiss down your neck, his hair tickling at your collarbone.

“I can’t stand when you're mad at me. What can I do baby?”

Your hips grinded against his pubes giving your clit that friction you yearned for. His cock twitched inside of you, his hands sitting at his sides begging to touch you. He bit his lip resisting the urge to lift his hips to slam into you. You rode him at your own pace chasing your orgasm, his expression pushed you even further. As much as you wanted him to fuck you in the car seats you wanted to see how far he could go more.

He could feel your sweet pussy tighten around his so beautifully he couldn't help you ride it out, only watch. The car windows were slightly foggy neither of you exactly cared if anyone saw. He couldn’t touch, move, or cum unless you said otherwise. He stared at your body above him convulsing on his cock, he tried begging you but nothing went through; you were determined to make him suffer. You lay on his chest breathing in his scent, your panting breaths hitting his hot skin. He raised his hips ever so slightly, you were too distracted from your orgasm to realize until his cock slid back into your warm heat. He waited for you to say something but you let out a small moan pushing back on him.

“Can I?” he watched your head give a short nod and that's all he needed. He held you by the waist slamming your body onto his cock as he ranted out apologies and how you're the only one for him. It didn't take long for him to climax cum dripping out your hole. You looked satisfied as your boyfriend stared at your leaking hole.

Maybe you'll get the both of you matching “I love my girlfriend” and “I love my boyfriend” shirts.

SATORU ♡ GOJO

It took 3 hours, worst of all you were the one to crack first. To be fair, being in the same home didn’t help either. You were with Satoru all the time, you thought moving in would help his constant need to be near you. When people would think of you they would think of him; you felt as though you were losing yourself in him. Hanging out with friends meant Satoru would find his way to the same place “by accident” or just follow you out the door. When you’d tell him to stop he would pull out his puppy dog eyes winning you over completely.

Naturally, you suggested taking a break, but only for a little while. You would still stay in the house, but the two of you wouldn’t be doing the same things you would before. To your surprise, Satoru did not beg or complain; rather, he simply said, “Okay, if that's what you want, " in a calm tone. He threw an entire tantrum at his big age when you joked that you would never cosplay as Angewomon. You finally caved and told him you were joking when he started offering to buy you another car. His expression was composed and didn't even roll his eyes. You tried to keep a poker face from the astonishment, but the way he continued to discuss with you during dinner as if you hadn't said what you said, confirmed that he wasn't going to go against your decision.

He took your empty plates, taking them to the sink to wash. “So when is this break starting?” the way his tone was so unruffled like he didn't care pissed you off. It's not like you were searching for a reaction from him but the way he was acting just wasn't him and it threw you off big time.

“Now.” Irritation filled your voice, and you turned back on your heels and headed toward the couch. It was a little petty, but he had acted worse toward little things. Why was he acting so nonchalant?! Like a switch went off, Satoru acted as though you weren't there. He passed by the couch, not even glancing at you. He took his charge from the socket and went upstairs. Those two hours felt like a lifetime. It was complete silence, not a word spoken between the two of you. Grey’s Anatomy wasn't pulling your attention towards Satoru’s presence in the home that wasn't near or on you. This was pathetic. Sighing you headed toward the kitchen needing a snack to help with the sadness overtaking you.

Looking through the cabinets on the tips of your toes looking for the popcorn. Scanning the kitchen you saw that it was on the very top cabinet. Just as you started debating if you should climb the counters, Satoru waltzed into the kitchen. Instinctively your mouth opened to ask him to help you but you stopped yourself instantly. There was no way you were going to yield.

Determined you climbed atop the marble countertop your hand holding onto the underneath of the cabinet for balance. Successfully you grabbed the popcorn box making a small celebration in your head. Setting the box next to your knees you started to climb down until your hand slipped. You braced yourself for the fall but your back met hard muscles, large hands holding onto your waist. He picked you up, getting you off the counter. Your eyes met once your feet were safely planted onto the floor. Like a trap your eyes couldn't leave his azure ones nor did his hands leave your waist.

His cock drilled into your poor pussy taking in every inch. “Don't ever say anything like that ever again.” Satoru groaned, his fingers digging into your hips. You stood on your toes one of your legs over the island in the middle of the kitchen. You sobbed out apologies drool falling from your lips on the cold marble. The moment your lips crashed onto his a smirk on his face letting you take control desperately grasping on his skin. You lasted a lot longer than he thought you would. He estimated 30 minutes. When you suggested taking a “break” he almost had a stroke, he asked you when the “break” would start as a joke not believing you were serious. He almost pulled you on him right then and there but he resisted the urge. Those 3 hours (technically 2 and a half if you don't count dinner) were absolute torture.

The sound of your moans and pleas was music to his ears letting you cum around his cock all you wanted. The way he fucking into you as if he wanted you to forget about the words “Maybe we should take a break.” from your dictionary.

“ ‘Toru please,” you hiccuped feeling yourself wanting to cum again, “I said I’m sorry.” you pleaded tears flowing out of your doe eyes. He pushed his messy hair out of his face staring at your fucked out face in delight. He is sure you're sorry but he just had to make sure. His hips stuttered as his hips slammed into yours shooting ropes of cum into your pussy. Your walls twitched around his cock he groaned at how tight you were but he refused to pull out. Clear fluid dripped onto the floor, your body jerked a scream erupting from your lips as you came. He stuffed your cunt full making sure not a single drop fell out.

“So it's over now right?” he asked, looking down at you with a pout on his face. You nodded a smile on your face.

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sshuumii · 3 months ago

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falling snow

gojo's ending: eight | prev chapter<< | chapter index

three tickets to Paris, please!

relationships: Choso x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Geto x Reader (multiple endings)

content: fluff and smut, threesome, unprotected piv sex, oral (m! + f! receiving), face sitting, face fucking, creampie, panties as a gag, mating press, possessive/protective gojo, teasing, pining, messy feelings, secondhand embarrassment, pet names (princess, baby), jealousy, PETTY men, the whole crew is here, confrontations and clinginess and confessions <3

divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more !!

In hindsight, it was stupid to trust him to behave in the first place.

He paused when he realized you were trailing behind him, waiting for you to catch up to him on the sidewalk.

“Ladies first,” He smirked. You rolled your eyes, shoulder brushing against his as you passed him. As you reached to pull the restaurant door open, Gojo’s hand connected with a light smack against your ass seconds before your hand wrapped around the handle. Your head whipped around to fix him in a sharp glare.

“You promised,” You hissed under your breath, glancing around at the clueless people passing by. He laughed, holding his hands up as if he’d actually keep them to himself.

“Starting now, I swear,” He said.

Before you could argue with him more, he opened the door for you, making a show of ushering you in. Pretending to be oh-so-chivalrous. Like a gentleman would smack your ass in public.

“I’ll leave here without you if you don’t,” You warned, giving him the most serious look you could muster. He jutted out his bottom lip, his blue eyes alarmingly charming as he pouted at you.

“C’mon, have a little faith in me,” He grinned.

Turning away from him with a sigh, you navigated the narrow path back to your friends with him following close on your heels. Choso had come back to the table, arms folded across his chest. Very pointedly not looking over in your direction while he was talking to the trio sitting across from him. Guilt tugged at your heartstrings just looking at him. Would you ever be able to not feel that way when he was around?

Geto had pushed his chair further back, leaving no room for you to slide in behind him to your chair. Awkwardly, you tried to squeeze in front of him, grazing against his knees as you passed him.

“Sorry,” You sheepishly apologized. It felt like you always managed to embarrass yourself in front of him.

“I don’t mind,” He shrugged as you sat down next to him, going to drink your water. By now, almost all the ice had melted. Geto leaned in, close enough that you could practically smell his shampoo. “If it’s you.”

You choked on your drink, water going down your windpipe as you coughed. Geto leaned back, his face neutral like he hadn’t said anything that would have warranted that reaction.

“Shit, you okay?” Nobara asked.

“Yeah, all good,” You rasped, clearing your throat. Everyone was watching you now. “What were you guys talking about?”

The tense glances Yuji and Nobara exchanged made the answer pretty fucking obvious without them having to even say anything. They were probably on the same subject they had been when you left: you and Gojo.

“Fine, forget I asked,” You muttered, biting down on an already cold french fry.

“Well,” Yuji scratched the back of his neck. You dreaded what he was going to say next before he even opened his mouth. “We were just talking about the party from January.”

You didn’t have to read between the lines to know what in particular they were talking about before Nobara chimed in.

“Yeah, we wanted to know how much Gojo paid you to be his date,” She added.

“I was curious about that, too,” Geto casually said.

Your gaze flicked over to Gojo. He was facing you, sunglasses back on and concealing whatever emotion he was feeling. His lips were pressed together, waiting for your reply. The cat was already out of the bag, not much point in trying to stuff it back in. You felt kind of bad for deceiving Geto, but at least he didn't outwardly seem upset.

“Does it matter?” You tried to sound unbothered.

“Do you know?” Yuji asked his brother, talking while he chewed a mouthful of food.

You swiveled your head back towards Choso. He looked a little annoyed by the topic, but the hard edge in his eyes melted a little when he saw the way you were looking at him.

“No,” He lied.

“Must’ve been a lot,” Nobara mused. Her and Yuji started throwing out numbers, trying to gauge your reaction to see if they were getting close to the correct dollar amount.

“I guess you heard about the bet between me and Ieri, then,” Geto said to Gojo, low enough that the rest of the table wouldn’t pay them any attention.

“You got some of my students in on it. Did you really think it wouldn’t get back to me?”

Gojo muttered back. You tried to focus back on the bickering between Yuji and Nobara, getting the slimy feeling that you were overhearing something you weren’t meant to.

“I thought it was weird that he kept badgering you on my birthday,” Megumi commented neutrally, looking bored of the discussion. You cringed as Choso’s shoulders tensed. At least that was the conclusion they came to and not you and their former teacher fucking in the back office of that scummy club.

“Can we move on, please?” You anxiously wringed your neck.

“Fine, but one last question?” Nobara asked, holding a single finger out.

“What is it?” You asked, exasperated.

“Are you two, like, dating now?” She questioned, looking mildly disgusted just saying the word. Did it have to be that one?

The rational answer was no. So why was it so hard for you to say?

“I'm hurt, you don't think someone can enjoy my company?” Gojo interrupted, earning a scoff from Megumi. You mouthed a small ‘thank you’ to him, grateful for his intervention.

“He’s not that bad,” You heard yourself defending him. Nobara’s jaw went slack.

“See? I’m not that bad,” He repeated your words proudly, like you paid him some great compliment rather than a half-baked rebuttal.

“Blink twice if he’s blackmailing you,” Nobara frowned, furrowing her brow as she fixed you in her most serious stare.

“Seriously?” You groaned, making a point to blink only once at her.

“You two were about to strangle each other last week,” She deadpanned, disbelief on her face. She did kind of have a point there. Her and Maki had left while you were still in the middle of arguing with him.

“If I recall correctly, you called him a prick,” Geto added. Not helpful either.

They really did not want to let this go.

“He apologized. Y'know, forgive and forget?” The fucking part was just optional.

“Gojo apologized?” Megumi asked, dumbfounded. Yuji had mentioned before that Megumi actually knew Gojo since he was a kid, far longer than the rest of them. He was looking between the two of you like you were trying to convince him the sun was green.

“C’mon, is it so hard to believe he can say sorry?” He’d said it so many times to you by now, it seemed like it was practically a go-to in his vocabulary.

“Yes,” Megumi bluntly said.

“Maybe he’s turned over a new leaf,” You argued.

Everyone stared at you like it was the dumbest thing they’d ever heard.

Yeah, that was probably a bit too far of a stretch for the current company to believe.

"Can you guys just leave him alone?" You finally said, hoping it'd end the ambush. It was hard enough to figure out your feelings towards him without their own mixing in.

"Fine, fine," Nobara shrugged, hands held up in the air.

The rest of the meal was painfully awkward, Gojo keeping his mouth shut as he ate all of his food and then half of yours. Yuji and Nobara did most of the work upholding the rest of the conversation, flitting from easy topics to talk about that wouldn’t have anyone arguing or glaring across the table at each other. You even managed to have a normal conversation with Geto without humiliating yourself.

After the check had been split and you insisted on paying your own portion, you excused yourself to the bathroom to touch up your makeup and calm the last of your nerves. The worst was definitely over, right?

Drying your hands with the shoddy paper towels and tossing them in the open trash can, you pushed the bathroom door open and ran straight into someone else.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You apologized.

The second you smelled his cologne, you moved back, stumbling against the wall of the hallway. The dim lighting cast shadows across the sharpness of his features, but you would know it was him even if you were blind.

“You okay?” Choso asked, brown eyes searching you. When he spoke so softly, it was hard to ignore the instinct to fall into his arms.

“Y-yeah,” You stammered, glancing anxiously down the hall towards the table just out-of-sight.

“You seem really stressed,” He said, concerned as he took a small step closer.

“I didn’t expect to be grilled about all of that, you know. Or Sa-Gojo, showing up,” You tried to correct your slip up, but you caught the way he flinched at how casually you started to say Satoru.

“You didn’t say you were dating him when Nobarra asked,” He commented.

“It’s-”

“I don’t think our relationship is any of your business,” Gojo intervened, standing at the end of the hallway, fixing Choso in a hard stare over the brim of his sunglasses. His hands were slung casually in his pockets, like he was unbothered, but you could see it in the hard line of his jaw he was irritated. “She’s not your girlfriend anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s yours,” Choso replied icily, not backing away.

“Isn’t that up to her to decide?” Satoru shot back, eyes glittering like he had yet another trick up his sleeve. Even with that knowledge, you never would’ve guessed what came out of his mouth next. Or that Choso would actually agree to it.

And of all the poor judgment calls you’d made over the past few months, you feared this might end up being the worst one of all.

The car ride back home in Satoru’s passenger seat passed by in a blur, your thoughts racing as you tried to piece together what the hell you had just gotten yourself into. Choso had beaten you to the apartment complex, leaning against his car as Gojo parked a couple of spots down from him.

Choso opened the door for you, holding out his hand to help you out. The feeling of his warm and calloused hand in yours made this whole thing feel too fucking real. You walked ahead of them, clutching your purse against your chest like it was a shield. The steps that always seemed to be a million miles long every time you came home from work were too damn short now. One and a half blinks later, you were hesitantly turning your key in the lock, two ridiculously handsome men lingering behind you.

The second the door shut behind you, Gojo had you pinned between him and the wall. He was tossing stuff out of his pocket onto the couch with one hand, phone, keys, wallet.

Kicking off his shoes while kissing a messy line across your jaw. You wanted to gauge Choso’s reaction but Satoru drew your chin up to force you to look into the piercing blue of his eyes.

“What are you thinking, princess?” The sharp edges of his teeth grazed your throat, a low groan leaving you before you could stop yourself.

“Toru,” You barely managed to rasp. “Th-this is a bad idea.”

He laughed, the sound low and dangerous, taking his time to drag his canines along the tendons and veins of your neck. Tenderly, he sucked on the side of your neck just hard enough that you knew there’d be a hickey by the time he finished. Marking his territory.

“Trust me a little bit, baby,” He laughed.

“Ch-” You started, but one of Satoru’s hands slipped up the hem of your dress, squeezing your thigh. “Fuck, Choso. Are you really good with this?”

Peeking out at him through half-lidded eyes, you were shocked to find he had already taken his shoes off and had gone into the kitchen to make himself a glass of water. He nodded, his eyes burning into yours as he drank from it.

You thought maybe he was working up the nerve to join or maybe call the whole thing off, but he kept eye contact as Satoru peppered kisses down from your collarbone to the hint of exposed cleavage.

“Just gonna watch?” He teased, pushing the straps of your dress down off your shoulders.

“Are you going to fuck her there or at least take her to the bedroom first?” Choso challenged back, his glass clinking against the counter as he sat it down a little too hard. Satoru chuckled, pulling your sundress down in a single swift motion before abruptly slinging you over a shoulder while you squealed.

“I can walk, asshole,” You murmured into his ear.

“But we’re supposed to be taking care of you tonight,” He cooed. Even if it was dripping with false sincerity, his hot breath by your ear had you clenching your thighs tighter as he waltzed through your apartment like he owned the place. Nudging the bedroom door open with his foot, it only took him a few long strides before he half-tossed you on the bed. Choso paused at the door frame, head cocked to the side as his eyes roamed over your body.

Automatically, your arms crossed over your chest. They had both seen you naked, sure, but having both of them here staring at you like an animal trapped in a cage had you on edge.

Thank fucking God you had opted to wear one of your nicer sets of matching bras and panties today.

“Aw, acting shy?” Satoru purred.

You scowled at him, but before you could snap back, Choso kneeled in front of the foot of your bed. His hands slid over your shins, tracing the bones up to your knee before prying your legs apart. Speechless, you watched the furrow of his brows as he licked a clean stripe up the inside of your thigh, dragging up to the band of your underwear.

“Get behind her,” Choso instructed Gojo.

Your stomach was pretty much doing an olympic-level gymnastics routine at the way he was speaking to him. Not that it seemed to bother Satoru. He laughed again.

“I’ll play along,” He shrugged, lazily climbing on the bed and positioning himself behind you so your back was pressed firmly against his chest. You could feel him digging into the bottom of your spine. “For now.”

“Are you hard already?” You hissed, peeking up over your shoulder at him.

The corner of his lips curled up in a mischievous smirk. You rolled your eyes, but one large hand slipped underneath the cup of your bra, thumb rolling across your nipple, lightly pinching and tugging at it while he pressed flat on your stomach to stop you from trying to squirm.

“I’ve been waiting for you all day, princess,” He taunted.

Choso grabbed you firmly by your hips, drawing out a sharp gasp from your throat before he tugged your underwear down your legs. You expected him to toss it across the room, but you were dumbfounded when he stood, leaned over your body and stuffed them in Satoru’s mouth instead. He made a muffled sound of surprise, but didn’t make a move to take the panties out.

Choso’s fingers mapped every inch of your thighs, rubbing softly and slowly up until he reached the stretch of skin that Satoru had bruised last weekend. He let go, hovering just inches from you. Even after he moved his hand, the heat of his palm lingered on your skin and for a fraction of a second all you could think was how much you missed him. A thought you hadn't allowed yourself to have over the past six weeks.

“Cho-” You choked out, two fingers slipping inside as you moaned.

“I know,” He murmured as he pressed butterfly kisses everywhere except the place you really wanted his mouth. “Missed you too, pretty baby.”

Spurred by jealousy, Satoru pinched your nipple hard. Your hips bucked up, driving Choso's fingers deeper. But Satoru was holding you back down again, not letting you chase the friction you were desperate for.

“Patience, princess,” Choso chided. You weren't sure who he was teasing more using that pet name, you or Gojo. The latter who was being so cooperative it was baffling. You couldn’t decide if you should be terrified or thrilled at the prospect of what would happen when he stopped ‘playing along’.

They didn’t let you linger on your thoughts, not with one of them groping your breasts and the other fingerfucking you hard enough that you were struggling to breathe. Choso worked your clit like it was the most important task he’d ever been given. His dark brows drawn together in focus as he slotted another finger inside.

“Mmph, Choso, please,” You begged, not even sure what you were asking for in the first place. You reached down, tugging on his hair as he kissed the crook of your hip, his teeth against the soft skin making you feel almost delirious.

“Tell me what you want,” He said, his voice gruff. He sucked a wet spot against the curve of your hip bone, steady compared to Satoru’s haphazard ones earlier.

“M-more, please,” You gasped as he pressed into the spot he knew would make you crumble. “Cho, need more.”

“Grab her hands,” Choso said to Gojo.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Satoru quickly grabbed your wrists the moment you let go of Choso’s hair. He pulled your arms up over your head and around his neck, holding your wrists in one firm hand while the other was still taking turns relentlessly toying with the sensitive buds of your nipples.

Choso’s tongue slipped inside you, the rough pad of the pink muscle drifting across the inside of your labia. You couldn’t stifle your cry as you arched up, his nose pressed up into your clit as he deliberately slowly drew patterns inside you.

You silently prayed that your neighbors weren’t home, because there was no way in hell the paper thin walls of your apartment would drown out the sound of you moaning while Choso ate you out.

Like he could read your mind, Satoru paused his torment of your breasts to take the make-shift gag out of his mouth and pop it in yours. You couldn’t even throw him a half-hearted glare before he was pressing rough kisses against your neck. His cock was throbbing painfully hard against your back now.

Choso started to suck on your already sore clit, crooking his tongue expertly before sliding in two fingers and resuming the steady rhythm he’d been maintaining earlier.

You were so close you could feel it, eyes fluttering closed as you reached for it. But there was the abrupt feeling of being torn back, your thoughts faltering as your thighs clenched around nothing.

Blinking frantically, your whine was muffled by the panties in your mouth. Choso was glaring up at the man behind you who had hoisted you just out of his reach.

“My turn to taste her,” Satoru petulantly added.

“You've been tasting her,” Choso shot back. You couldn't see his face, but you assumed that Satoru was probably rolling his eyes.

Either way, he pulled you off the bed, taking the underwear out of your mouth and tossing it to the laundry basket in the corner before quickly unhooking your bra and letting it drop to the floor. Shivering, you waited for him to make the next move while Choso's brown eyes flicked between the two of you.

Satoru got back on the bed, snatching a pillow from the top and propping it under his head as he laid halfway down the mattress. His legs were almost too long to lay normally in the bed in the first place, so they were dangling half off like this. You stared at him, a mixture of confusion and apprehension plastered across your face.

“You gonna sit on my face, princess?” He asked.

Holy shit.

Blushing and flustered, you hesitantly nodded yes and climbed up after him. It was a little awkward having to position yourself over him, even more so with Choso watching every muscle pull and twitch as you paused sitting Satoru’s chest.

“Are you sure?” You asked, voice trembling. Your core was already aching so much that it burned, nerve endings pleading for pleasure. You had never done, well, this before, not even with Choso. Although, in retrospect, he definitely would've let you.

“Mhm,” He murmured. His fingernails dug into your hips, pulling you up the last few inches until you were directly above his mouth.

Digging your knees into the comforter on either side of his head, you lowered yourself down just enough for his tongue to flick inside, dragging the taste buds along the inside of your walls like it was a delicacy he wanted to savor the flavor of.

“Are you going to, oh fuck, come over?” You gasped, turning to Choso. He was tracing the outline of your hips, your breasts, the lust in your face, biting down hard enough on his bottom lip to draw blood.

He slowly peeled off his shirt, discarding it on the floor before unbuttoning his jeans. Satoru crooked his tongue hard up into you, distracting you momentarily as you screwed your eyes shut and a low whimper was torn from your throat.

The feeling of the bed dipping had you peeking back out through half-lidded eyes at Choso’s rock-hard cock, the tip almost pink and already glistening with pre-cum as he got on his knees in front of you. It took a little bit of angling, leaning forward until your mouth hovered over it.

Choso paused, the hint of salt barely pressing against your lips, waiting for some kind of confirmation that you wanted this, wanted him to continue. You nodded, swallowing hard before opening your mouth. He inched forward, giving you time to adjust before it was practically choking you.

Like he always did when he felt like he wasn’t getting enough attention, Satoru pulled you down, clawing at your hips as he played with your clit like his own personal stress toy. You yelped, throat constricting around Choso as he thrusted into the back of your throat. It was hard not to gag, a little bit of drool dribbling out of the corner of your lips as he grabbed a fistful of your hair.

“Doin' so fucking good for me, baby,” Choso groaned.

It almost felt like they were playing tug-of-war - Choso pulling on your hair while he fucked your mouth and Satoru’s vice-grip on your hips while his mouth fucked you.

Weakly, you groaned as you pressed your tongue hard and flat against the vein underneath Choso’s cock. Your hands drifted across the bare skin of his chest, the hard lines and ridges you’d once committed to memory. But Satoru had no mercy, not waiting for you to reach for your own climax, but dragging you to it himself with every flick or motion of his tongue.

You were barely able to stop your teeth from doing more than just grazing Choso as you came undone for Satoru, thighs clenching his head so hard you wondered if he’d even be able to hear the strangled sounds leaving your throat. He kept going through your high, lapping up any mess you might’ve made, an extra smug glint in his eyes as he looked up at you.

Choso thrusted harder, the tip slamming into the back of your throat while Satoru carefully slid out from underneath you. Watching him out of the corner of your eye, he dragged his thumb along the wetness smeared underneath his bottom lip. Instead of wiping it on his pants or even just ignoring it, he chose the third option you didn't know existed: shoving it Choso’s mouth as some petty form of payback.

Your eyes widened as Choso’s teeth clamped down on Satoru’s thumb.

“That’s not very nice,” Satoru pouted, pulling his hand back. If it hurt, he didn't let it show.

Choso didn’t reply, scowling at him and pulling your head closer.

Satoru undid his shirt button-by-button, reveling in the way your eyes were still glued to him when your mouth was around someone else’s cock. His belt and pants came off next. He took the time to put them in your laundry basket, drawing out the act of doing it like he wanted Choso to know that he was sticking around long enough to do his laundry here.

You weren’t stupid. You knew the second Satoru proposed this idea in the first place it was to make a show that you were his now.

“Go fuck yourself,” Choso coldly said, a low moan escaping as your tongue scraped along the side of his dick.

“I think I’d rather fuck her.”

There wasn’t an ounce of resistance left in you when Satoru grabbed you and practically manhandled you onto your hands and knees and slipped himself inside of you. Your knees threatened to buckle, the only thing keeping you up being his support.

Each thrust forced Choso against the back wall of your throat, his moans filling the room.

You could tell he was almost there, his grip on your hair so tight that you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled some of it out by the time he finished.

Satoru pressed into the soft spot in the back that had you whining and whimpering, about to suffocate on your own spit. His lips were on your back, dotting the skin there with kisses that sent shivers down your spine.

“Are you gonna swallow for me, gorgeous?” Choso murmured, his grip on your hair softening a little, like he was worried he might be hurting you. You nodded, tears brimming in your lashes.

You could feel the vein pulsate against your tongue, salt and warmth flooding down your throat when he came. He rubbed his thumb across your cheekbone as you swallowed the last of him.

The second Choso separated from your lips, Satoru pulled himself out of you, leaving you feeling excruciatingly empty all at once. He flipped you around as he stood, yanking you back to the position you were first in with half your body hanging off the bed. He hoisted your legs up so your ankles were on his shoulders and angled himself by your entrance.

“Jesus fucking Christ , what the- ah, Toru, please,” You yelped, tearing at your comforter as he stretched you around him. It hadn’t felt like he was going easy on you before, but it was painfully obvious now he had been.

Black spots splotched across your vision as he pounded into you, trying to yank another orgasm out of you. You felt like a pretzel he was trying to bend when he leaned in to smash his lips against yours, thighs burning at the stretch as your knees dug into your chest.

“Toru,” You panted.

“Sound so pretty saying my name like that, princess,” He grunted, his cock kissing your cervix while he kissed your neck.

He fucked you like he did everything else in life: recklessly overconfident, playing around like he was putting on a performance. With Choso here, you guessed he kind of was. Even if it looked like he was being sloppy, there was no mistaking the precise way he slammed into the spots that had you melting into pieces underneath him.

But every time you almost got there, he readjusted. His mouth was tilted up in that frustrating smirk, watching you hopelessly try to writhe around and get the friction against your clit you needed.

“Please, let me cum,” You whined, the desire bubbling up from the depths of your stomach choking you up.

“Should I?” He mused, slowing his thrusts to a snail’s crawl. A frantic mewl left you, your hands reaching up to cup his face, running your fingers through your hair as you batted your eyelashes at him.

“God, Toru, I’m begging,” You cried out. “Please.”

He picked up the pace, his skin hot and sticky against yours. The sound of him fucking you was filthy, his hips slapping into your ass with enough force it would probably bruise in the morning.

“Say it,” His voice was so low in your ear that it made your brain feel fuzzy, dizzy with lust as you tried to decipher what the fuck ‘it’ was.

Shit.

You bit down on your bottom lip, a moan tearing out of your mouth as you debated on if you should really give in to him. But he slipped a hand back down to circle your clit and that was that.

“Fuck, I’m yours,” You cried out, writhing against him as he made you cum for the second time tonight.

He must have been holding himself back too, since the second the words left your mouth, you could practically feel his release. Throbbing into you as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

Satoru pulled out of you, cum dripping down onto your midriff and leaking down your leg as he rolled his shoulders back. Choso was already waiting with a couple of wet wipes, tossing a few at Gojo's chest and hesitating before passing the rest to you. Satoru grabbed them out of your open hand, carefully cleaning you up. You let your eyes flutter closed, not particularly wanting to deal with the aftermath of what just happened.

“You alright, baby?” Satoru asked, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Yeah,” You sighed. Not that you could see standing or walking in your near future. You kept that to yourself to avoid feeding the ego you already stroked enough for today.

“I’m gonna go,” Choso awkwardly interjected. You turned your head, jaw still sore. He had already thrown his clothes on. Some of the tension in his face had relaxed, but he looked about as exhausted as you felt.

“Feel free to let us know if you ever want to join in again,” Gojo dismissed him with a wave and wink. You rolled your eyes at him. Choso half-scoffed, but still looked at you affectionately before turning to walk out of the room. Gojo trailed behind him, still completely nude. You could barely make out their voices as they exchanged a few words before the front door opened and closed.

Satoru came back with a glass of water, pulling you up in a sitting position so you could drink from it. You hadn’t even realized you were thirsty, but just seeing it made you realize how raw your throat was.

“Thanks,” You muttered, draining it in a few gulps.

“Wanna take a bath together?” He murmured, tracing the outline of the hickeys he’d left all over your neck.

“If you carry me there,” You groaned, aching as you stretched out.

“Deal.”

After a warm bath, you both quickly abandoned your plan to go grocery shopping for the afternoon in favor of being lazy around your apartment. You threw his stuff off the couch onto the coffee table, sprawling out with a pillow tucked under your head as you laid down.

He laid down on top of you, the suffocating weight of his body knocking the breath out of your chest as he settled on top of your chest.

“You’re heavy,” You groaned.

“You’re comfy.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” You whispered into the silky white locks of hair brushing against your cheek. He paused, his posture stiff against you as he craned his neck up to meet your face.

“Yeah?” He asked, breathless. “You like me?”

“Only a little bit,” You couldn’t help the smile curling up on your lips.

He repositioned himself over you, one hand pressing down into the couch cushions while the other caressed your cheek.

“I like you too.”

tags: @inthedarkshadows000 @universal-s1ut @theonlyhonoredone @sugurusfavemonkey @chsuguru @ravester @unikornboop @ivyvenus333 @nylve @shibataimu @20kglex @cuntphoric @starriesworlds @cryingoverpixelsetc @psychoartiste @saurondriell @simplyraeblue @deftoneslut004 @theclassbookworm

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sshuumii · 3 months ago

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stepdad!kento catches himself one evening at the bathroom door as you're showering. his wife, your mother, is out for the evening and he's been tasked with trying to bond with you—his moody stepdaughter who has yet to warm up to the prospect of a man in the house.

everything you did seemed to be to spite the poor man. he had dedicated so much of himself to this marriage, and still you can't offer him even a chance. he had planned on sitting you down this evening to watch through a movie with him—he'd make popcorn and let you choose whatever dumb film you pleased. but he knew that would get him nowhere.

because you hated him. at least, he had thought.

but as he had walked past the bathroom to find the door cracked and the softest of humming sounding over the running water, kento started to wonder if your actions have been from a place of hate or from somewhere else entirely.

like that one time last week in the kitchen. he had been holding a tall glass of water, and you deliberately walked right into him, making him spill it all down the front of your thin pyjama top. you made such a drama about him watching his fucking step, but as kento thinks back on it he can't quite remember your expression. he had been staring, albeit unintentionally, at the way your nipples hardened through your now wet and now see through top. and you didn't say a word about it.

kento shakes his head. he's just being perverted: you have no intentions of riling him up in any capacity outside of innocent displeasure. you're not some horny young woman with eyes set on her step father, and kento is a nasty man for even entertaining the thought.

until you moan his name.

a sweet and prolonged "kentooo," that drips down the shower walls and reaches his ears just as his blood rushes south. is he hearing you right? maybe you're calling out for his help. maybe you're shaving and you cut yourself bad. or you fell and he was too in his own head to hear it.

that's the justification he comes up with in his head when he decides to push the dor open just a little wider and peek in. if you were hurt, he'd be decent about it: cover his eyes the best he could and treat you with the modesty you so deserve and—

you have the shower head tucked between your legs. with your free hand, you run your fingers over your perfect tits, tweaking a nipple here and there as you arch into the jet-setting that pulses against your clit so perfectly that you almost don't need to imagine it's your stepdads tongue instead.

but you do, and you moan his name like a bitch in heat because he brings out a part of you that makes you feel like exactly that.

poor kento can't help himself either. what kind of man is he, to stand behind an ajar door with his cock suddenly hooked out of his slacks and being stroked at a punishing pace as he watches his stepdaughter pleasure herself. how filthy is it that you pine after him: that you have no clue he's watching you stimulate your needy little clit to the thought of him? he wonders what you think about, whether it's detailed or a vague taboo that keeps you going.

he wonders if your mind reels at the dinner table when his feet accidentally brush against your legs beneath. he wants to know what you think when you greet him in the mornings, and he's stretching out and showing off his happy trail and mussed blond hair...

he wonders if he's going to hell for this. or if a divorce is right around the corner. his wedding band feels cool against his otherwise searing hot length. god, this is bad.

your mother would flip. you would too, if you knew he was only a few feet away and peering around the room in search of your discarded panties. if you knew he was contemplating the merits of sneaking in and stealing them to jack off into later. would you scream? call him every name under the sun? tell your mom?

or would you meet his eye sin the bathroom mirror, like you are right now, and fucking smile.

he thinks his heart stops. but again it beats and your eyes don't leave his in the reflection, and your hand doesn't pull the shower head from your sweet little pussy and kento doesn't stop fucking his fist in return.

it's straight eye contact. it's the exchange of everything wrong with whats happening right now until the two of you build into a mind-blowing shared climax that has kento biting down on a moan and you letting one rip raw from your throat.

so you don't hate him.

he hates himself, though. guilt weighs him down as he, still without breath from his heavy orgasm, steps backwards and leaves you wondering if you really saw your stepdad in the mirror or if your wishful thinking has just become too much these days.

and he cleans up in the master bathroom with a headache and a newfound urge to read the fucking bible again. you join him later that night for the promised movie night bonding experience—just to put on the cheesiest film you can and insist on sharing a blanket to save the energy of going to get another.

and he keeps his eyes locked on the film the whole time. and you pretend that you don't see the sliver of your lace panties poking out from his pocket.

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sshuumii · 3 months ago

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Satoru pulled up a chair and sat in front of you, well, he sat in the chair backwards but was still facing you- how he was sitting wasn't the point.

No, what got you focused was the way he was staring at you.

"Want to play twenty questions?"

The simple question eased your heart a bit, "sure! I'll go first."

Your smile was bright, blinding even.

You thought over a question for a bit before deciding on something simple to start things off. Mentally ticking down a number one as you marked off your first ask.

"What's your favorite color?"

Satoru gaze was lazer focused on you, "Digimon. Do you love me?"

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sshuumii · 3 months ago

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IN HIS GARMENTS﹙ ♡ ﹚─── 𝓝anami 𝓚ento

𝓢UMMARY ｡ nanami doesn't expect to get so excited seeing you in his clothes.

呪術廻戦 & suggestive ୨୧ afab!reader. chubby reader. alluding to having sex at the end. use of pet names ('honey', 'sweetie', 'princess'). nanami is just a sweetheart.

❛ notes ❜ . . i initially thought this would just be a drabble but it turned out a teensy bit longer than i expected ૮ ྀི⳿ ◞ ◟ ა ! nanami makes me feel so giddy, he is MY man <3 !

nanami stood still, staring at you in complete adoration. hearts were practically shooting from his eyes as he drunk you in. every fibre in his being was swelling up with amour as he looked you up and down, mouth slightly agape, heartbeat quickening the more he looked at you.

you were wearing a sweet lavender babydoll cami with white lace covering your breasts and a cute little bow stitched in between them. it was one of his favourite tops that you owned and he adored how pretty and dainty you looked in it. the camisole hugged your curves so prettily, and accented your breasts as well — and it would be a lie if he said that he wasn't constantly staring at them when you wore this top.

thought this time around, it wasn't the camisole that had him flustered. it was for the fact you were wearing one of his boxer shorts.

they were clinging onto the plush of your thighs, making them appear so much more squishy and soft in his eyes. your thighs filled out his boxers so perfectly and the waistband clinched to your tummy so cutely. it was the pair of white ones he had forgotten when he had stayed over at your apartment a few nights ago. he figured he would just retrieve them whenever he stayed over again but now he was debating if he should just let you keep them...

"kento honey!", you squealed. you dragged him into your apartment, shutting the door behind him. "i wasn't expecting you! what brings you here?"

nanami cleared his throat in an attempt to compose himself. he said in the most steadiest tone he could muster, "i wanted to surprise you so i came over and brought you your favourite treat."

he handed you a small paper bag with your favourite bakery's logo on it, trying his best to avert his gaze from your lovely legs so as to not get more aroused than he already was.

you giggled as you gave your boyfriend a soft peck to his lips. "thank you, sweetie! this is so nice of you!". you looked at him, smiling at him warmly and that's when you noticed the faint pink dusting his cheeks. you brought your hand to cup his cheek as you asked him, "are you okay? you look a bit flushed."

"i'm fine, honey," he murmured, planting a gentle kiss to your forehead. he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his embrace. he brushed the strands of hair that had fallen next to your face behind your ears as he whispered to you, "are those my boxers?"

your face was now coloured pink, pouting bashfully as you said, "well, i'd washed it yesterday and then i wanted to wear something comfy today and i saw this laying around so..."

"you look so cute, darling," he said, his lips trailing across your face, to your jawline down to your neck. your arms instinctively draped itself over his shoulders, the bag still in your hands. "but i must say... this look of yours is getting me riled up."

he was softly nipping at your skin in the place he knew that got you excited. a tiny moan left your lips when he sucked on your sweet spot a little, just as he had wanted. the tent in his pants was growing, rubbing against your leg while a few more mewls tumbled out of your mouth.

"wow, i didn't think this would get you so aroused kento," you said, a smug grin spreading across your face.

nanami's hands reached for underneath your derriere, groping your cheeks as he lifted you into his arms. you wrapped your legs around his hips, an involuntary squeak coming out your mouth from the sudden movement. he walked over to your bedroom, carrying you as he said in your ears in that deep, seductive voice of his, "let me show you just how much you got me worked up, my princess."

safe to say, the cake nanami had bought for you had been forgotten for a good, few hours. it served as a delightful aftercare treat though!

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sshuumii · 3 months ago

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noncon penetration ୨ৎ afab!reader

✦ you have a pregnancy scare with suguru once, and now if he doesn’t have a condom you won’t even let him inside :(

he’ll beg and grovel, whine with a whirlwind of ‘please baby’ and ‘i swear i’ll be careful this time,’ but you just can’t afford to risk it. not again.

but you’re just…too kind. (or perhaps foolish.) that’s exactly why i love you, he whispers, when you tell him he can do anything as long as he doesn’t penetrate.

and he takes your mercy by his teeth. ravenous, greedy—as he rubs his cock against your sopping folds, teases your little hole but never goes too far. pulls back just in time to make a mess on your thighs or stomach. sometimes finishing in your mouth if you’re willing.

but don’t hold it against him when he “accidentally” slips inside you. (which he will, of course.) and don’t get mad when he starts pushing into you, ignoring your hands pushing at his chest, your pleas for him to pull out. he wants to stop, he does. but it feels so good—you feel so good, and you’re taking him so well despite your protests. and please, please don’t get mad when he cums inside, poor baby can’t help it :,( … not even if he wanted to.

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sshuumii · 3 months ago

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BETWEEN FORMULAS, FLOWERS AND FEELINGS - SATORU GOJO

You are the imbalance in Satoru’s logical and rational reasoning.

pairing: nerd! gojo x student council president! reader

summary: being the student council president isn’t the easiest job in the world. It’s not like gojo — with his trademark glasses, his awkward smile hiding the most dangerous brain. because for him, he can resolve every problem, right? there is no formula that can escape his smart mind. not even you. so when he accepts to tutor you, could he really be sure feelings won’t become a new variable?

warnings: +18 MDNI, nsfw, smut, virgin! gojo, first time, oral (m! receiving), pinning, college AU, shojo vibes, quantum physics subject, slight angst, fluff, idiots in love, insecure! gojo, nerd gojo with glasses is hot, art by @/3-aem.

wc: 9,922

Ever since he was little, Satoru Gojo seemed to have been blessed with knowledge.

His very first Christmas toy — when he was finally old enough to have one — was a huge playset containing chemical transformation recipes to prepare by himself, using a handful of formulas and calculations.

When he turned ten, his parents gifted him a kit that allowed him to build his own electric train circuit, which he had to assemble using physics methods so that real electricity could power his trains — and sometimes even his cars.

By the time he reached middle school, scientific subjects like physics and chemistry became his second mother. Nothing escaped him. Formulas, molecular mechanisms, and chemical transformations held no secrets. This passion for complex methods shaped his logic.

For every problem, Satoru always found a solution. To him, the world was nothing but a set of solvable scientific probabilities, where nothing could slip through his grasp.

But growing up with barely controllable hormones… poor Satoru had experienced firsthand just how bitter that could taste, even at university.

The first time he asked a girl from his middle school to go out with him in his third year, Satoru never would have thought she’d laugh right in his face before calling him a useless nerd.

He didn’t let anything show. And yet, it was from that very day that Satoru’s glasses, his passion for science, and his own self-confidence betrayed him.

He decided to give up on feelings — classifying them as a deceitful, unscientific belief with a complete lack of logic, something better suited for grotesque purposes like the movies or romantic TV series that entertained uncultured people.

Satoru didn’t need emotions when logic always prevailed, never once disappointing him.

But upon entering university, he could never understand why — despite his silence and absolute discretion, buried in his studies — his cerulean blue eyes always seemed to find their way back to you.

You were the student council president of the school. Known for your upright mind, flawless organization, and a sense of justice so firm it sometimes bordered on harshness.

You had no time for anyone. You spent your days planning university events without wasting a single second — a notebook always pressed against your chest, and occasionally, a pair of glasses perched on your nose during intense activities like studying for exams or arranging event halls, which were regularly occupied by you and your staff.

What intrigued Satoru the most about you was your logic.

You planned everything, organized everything, all while maintaining grades nearly as excellent as his. You never wasted time hanging around with those ridiculous girls who would likely reject him if he ever dared to speak to them, and he had already admire witnessed you standing up for people like him — those trapped in their introversion and buried in their books — refusing to tolerate the injustice caused by the school’s most popular students.

A deep respect radiated from you.

Something Satoru refused to admit. Even though he knew you could short-circuit his brain in an instant.

Like that time when you had asked him for a pen at the library during your study session because he wasn’t far from your table. His face had turned crimson, and he could have sworn smoke was coming out of his ears. His mouth — so used to speaking with precision and efficiency — completely failed him in front of you.

The words got stuck in his throat, and the few sounds that miraculously managed to escape were nothing but incomprehensible stutters, earning him a confused frown from you.

In the end, he gave up on any attempt at conversation and simply handed you the best pen in his pencil case — his favorite. And he had almost silently prayed in his head that you would forget to return it so that you would keep it with you.

And he hated that.

This power you had over him — the way you made him nervous, shy, and desperate for you.

Just like in middle school.

Something he had sworn to leave behind.

~~~~

“NO, NO, AND NO!”

The event hall falls into a deathly silence as you shout your words with such force and vehemence that your fists crush the few sheets of paper still clutched between your tense fingers.

No one dares to move anymore — a part of the staff is busy moving boxes of decorations, two others are handing you papers to sign, some are hovering around you with questions, and others are amusing themselves by climbing ladders to place Christmas decorations — as if your scream alone has just pierced through the entire university.

With your jaw clenched, a vein pulsing at your temple, your cheeks flushed with anger, and your throat slightly irritated, you struggle to breathe as all attention shifts onto you.

“I said I haven’t decided on the organization of the Spring Formal yet, that nothing is supposed to be taken out, signed, or even requested until I’ve given the order, so what the fuck are you all doing here?!” you exclaim.

You push past the students in your way and snap your fingers at the two idiots fooling around with the decorations.

“You two — you’re fired.”

Then, you turn to the rest of the group handling the boxes. “If you don’t want to be fired too, hurry up and put that away!” Next, to the members waiting for you to sign papers. “Out!”

As the room empties in silence, filled with sulky and terrified faces at the thought of dealing with you, you take a deep breath before crouching down to the floor, burying your face between your knees, your arms trembling.

There isn’t much time left.

Director Yaga has given you a deadline to organize the Spring Formal, leaving you in charge of the theme, the venue, and the entertainment.

But, for the first time in your role, you are literally overwhelmed.

For the first time as well, no inspiration comes to you. The stress of classes, exams happening at the same time as the event date, your poor grades lately, and the pressure your team keeps adding on top of all that—at some point, you were bound to explode.

With all of this piling up, how are you supposed to manage?

That’s exactly what you asked yourself during your class that very afternoon, staring at your 40/100 in quantum physics.

With your heart sinking into your stomach, you hastily shove the paper into your bag, not caring in the slightest if it gets crumpled.

No one must see that the student council president allows herself to yell at her team while having such catastrophic grades. But your overloaded schedule no longer allows you to focus on your studies alone — how can you concentrate and stay organized when all you want to do is throw yourself out the window?

~~~~

“You need to register to require a tutor.”

“But I don’t need one.”

The male student raises an eyebrow. “So what are you doing here?”

You scoff. How dare he talk to you like that?

You’re in the library, one of the most soothing and stressful places in the world. You’ve had to find a way to get your grades up while you sort out your problem with Spring Formal, but in the meantime, you need to find a student who can tutor you without anyone knowing.

So what better way to find out than from the librarian’s assistant — who is also one of the Tutoring Center’s organizers?

“I need to know who’s the top student in quantum physics here,” you insist with a firmer tone.

Forgetting you’re at the entrance to the library, you purse your lips, a little embarrassed.

��We don’t have ‘top students’, prez,” he replies with a bitter smile — ah, so he knows who you are.

“So how do you help the students?” you ask with almost indignation.

He shrugs. “If you need help—”

“I do not,” you cut him off coldly, cheeks on fire as you adjust your bag over your shoulder. You sigh in annoyance at the student’s lack of efficiency.

“Then, how can I help you?” He gives you the most impertinent smile in the world, as if he’s just waiting for you to get the hell out.

You tuck a stray lock of your hair back behind your ear before rolling your eyes. “I need to talk to a top student in quantum physics, that’s all.”

The student looks at his fingernails as if they're the most important thing in the world and mimes huffing. “We don’t have any.” He looks up at you. “If you’re looking for one, there’s a nerd who’s the best in his class.”

Curiosity pricks the back of your neck, causing you to sit up straight. “Who?”

“Gojo, I think,” he said, frowning as if to remember his name. “Sato-thing, if I remember. Anyway, a nerd. You should know him, I guess.”

You shake your head, eyes almost squinting as you seek the memory of a Gojo name. But nothing comes to mind. So you shrug.

“What does he look like?”

“Albino. Blue eyes, nerd glasses, always dressed in a sweatshirt or shirt and he always has a book under his arm.”

“All right, thanks.”

Then you hurry out of the library and its oppressive walls, leaving the assistant to sigh with relief — as much as you do.

~~~~

“So, you are… Gojo Sato-thing?”

He has a little disappointed smile. “Satoru Gojo, prez.” With a nervous gesture, he places the strap of his shoulder bag back on his shoulder and adjusts his glasses, which slide down his nose.

You stare at him motionless for a few seconds, speechless at the all-too-perfect likeness of the Tutoring Center manager’s description. He’s got a book under his arm, a Digimon t-shirt over a dark blue plaid shirt and an innocent look on his face — he really wasn’t wrong.

You blink. “Um… yeah. Whatever.”

You check that no one in the corridor of the quantum physics wing has left any students lying around who might surprise you with him, then let out an exhausted exhale.

Faced with his 6'3, you owe it to yourself to raise your eyes and chin a little higher.

“I need your help. You're the best physics student in the class, right?”

He turns the toe of his shoe as a tic on the floor and nods imperceptibly.

“Perfect. I’ve got a little problem right now and—”

“Do you need me to do an assignment for you?” he says almost as if trying to divine your thoughts — is that hope you see in his eyes?

“Non.” You knit your brows. “I’m having a problem with my grades and I’m swamped with my event responsibilities and I'm starting to get grades...” You chew the inside of your cheek to hide your pride before muttering, “...pretty bad. And I don’t feel like being given help publicly.”

In his confused expression, you add, “Otherwise it would be a real shame...”

From his height, Satoru’s shyness almost flies away in a gust. He’s got you there at last. In front of him. Talking about something. Like a dream come true — a reality where he no longer knows what his name is but whatever.

He even perceives a blushing creeping up your cheeks as you drift your gaze a little lower to your own shoes and your lips crumple into an adorably embarrassed and frustrated little pout.

Then of course he’ll help you.

He would give you more if he could, and he promises to himself he’ll do it.

“So you need me as your secret tutor?” he clarifies so softly.

You look up at him, clearing your throat. “Basically… yeah.”

“Fine. I can do that.” A small smile spreads across his pink lips and he digs his hands into his jeans, which are a little baggy for him.

You flicker your eyes, confusion animating your features. “Is that all?”

“Do you need anything else?” And you’d have sworn you saw hope still shining in his ocean-blue irises.

“What? No,” you retort incredulously. “But don’t you need something in return? Like, money or something?”

“...No,” he exhales, reducing his smile — though it still lingers. “I don’t mind helping you. Just give me your free hours so we can set a date. If that’s okay with you, of course,” he hastens to add, as if afraid of upsetting you.

Your lips part slightly. “O-Okay,” you finally say. “I’d like to do this as soon as possible.”

“How about today?” Satoru suggests, with a little more enthusiasm than he had anticipated himself. “Or even now, if you want.”

“Now?”

“Yeah,” he says with a happy nod.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit too earl—”

Barely ten minutes later, you find yourself sitting next to him once again in the library, which, for once, is not too crowded, pretending to have a casual conversation while, in reality, he is analyzing your failed test papers with an expert eye.

One elbow resting on the polished wooden table, one hand holding one of your sheets between his fingers, and the other with his index and thumb supporting his chin, Satoru lets his gaze travel line by line over your flawless handwriting—so much so that he forgets he’s supposed to be concentrating on helping you.

And not on the pretty way you write the letter ‘S,’ wondering how close he’d be to a cardiac arrest if he ever saw his name written by your hand.

When he finally manages to analyze the mistakes on your paper, Satoru straightens slightly in his seat, adjusting the collar of his unbuttoned shirt that suddenly seems to be strangling him with an invisible noose, despite his neck remaining completely free. His heart pounds at the speed of light — almost literally.

Calculations and formulas have always been child’s play for Satoru; his brain has always been wired for logic, rationality, and the addictive thrill of adrenaline coursing through his veins when he makes a new discovery, a new analysis that falls perfectly into place — like completing a puzzle and watching it come to life, or like a house of cards standing strong until the slightest imbalance brings it all crashing down.

You are the imbalance in Satoru’s logical and rational reasoning.

For Satoru, love is not a science. It’s just hormones that one must learn to control and not be fooled by.

And yet, even though he has devoted his body and soul to science, his heart will never cease to be yours — under your implacable and irrevocable hold.

Even with all the scientific weapons in the world, he will always be powerless before you.

With a flutter of snowy lashes, he returns to reality, setting his gaze on yours; persistent, waiting for him to say something, to give some kind of critique.

His mouth goes dry, heat rushes to his cheeks as he clears his throat, embarrassed.

“Well, uh... I guess we can start revisiting the notion of The Uncertainty Principle, if that’s okay with you.” He gives you a quick glance so unconfident that you restrain yourself from doing what you're thinking of: ripping off his adorable cheeks — adorable? Since when do you find nerds adorable?

“Okay,” you say, pulling a draft sheet closer.

As you move your chair closer to his to concentrate better thanks to the proximity, the effect is quite the opposite on poor Satoru. He nearly loses all composure when his trembling fingers close around his pencil.

“W-Well… Um, do you want me to give you a quick lesson on this again? You didn’t seem to grasp much of the concept.”

“If you can use simple words…” you mumble without much hope.

He swallows hard before explaining, “A rule in quantum physics says: you can’t know both the exact position and momentum of a particle at the same time. The more you know about one, the less you know about the other. Got it?”

You squint, uncertain, as you rest your chin in the hollow of your palm. “Mh-hmm…”

“So,” he draws two Delta symbols, each followed by an x and a p, then an equal sign, “this one represents the uncertainty in position while the other represents the uncertainty in momentum.” He leans slightly forward to clearly define the terms for you before breaking down the formula, trying not to sweat under the ghost of your breath caressing his hand because of how close you are.

“Okay. I don’t think I quite got all that.”

“It’s okay,” Satoru replies with a slight smile as he adjusts his glasses on his nose before returning to the sheet. “You confused uncertainty with actual errors in measurement, and you tried to calculate exact values for both position & momentum, which isn’t possible.” He draws an example of throwing a ball vs. tracking an electron. “You can’t pin down a quantum particle perfectly — it’s like me trying to figure out what you’re thinking all the time. Impossible, right?”

“...Right.”

“You don’t understand anything, right?” he sighs, a slight frown curling his lips.

“Honestly? Not a word,” you chuckle, a soft, honest melody that caresses his ears.

“Let’s make it more real for you, prez, then,” he snorts too, wiping away a big smile that deepens his dimples. “Imagine you’re running around campus planning this big Spring Formal thing. If I try to track exactly where you are at one moment, I have no clue where you’ll be the next second. But if I focus on how fast you’re moving between meetings, I can guess you’ll end up in the library… but I won’t know the exact second you get there. That’s basically the Uncertainty Principle — can’t have both at the same time.”

“Ohhhh, okay!” you say, a light illuminating your face. But a second later, your features drop. “But, wait… that doesn’t make sense. If we have better tools, we can just measure both, right?”

He chuckles softly. “Nope. Even if we had the best measuring tools in the universe, the universe itself won’t let us know both at the same time. It’s not a technology problem — it’s just how nature works.”

You groan, frustrated, and slump over your notes. “Physics is pain.”

He shakes his head, a lighter smile blooming on his lips. “You’ll get it, I promise. You just need time… and a good tutor.”

“You?” You snicker, but not meanly — just teasing him in this mood that feels so comfortable with him, something you never thought you’d experience. “You’re losing me more than I was before.”

You both sigh after a while, and he gives you a practice exercise, which you rush to complete so he can correct it.

For the first time in maybe weeks, or even months, you haven’t felt this light. Quantum physics has always been a difficult challenge to overcome, despite your habit of planning everything to avoid stress. But sometimes, doing everything alone has led you to not ask for help when you needed it the most.

So when someone reached out and showed you how relieving some of that weight could feel, the sensation sparked a desire in you — one that didn’t want this to end.

But you’re afraid it will make you dependent.

So it’s best not to get too attached, right?

~~~~

The following week, even though your understanding of quantum physics has somewhat improved, your stress refuses to do anything but skyrocket toward a full-blown anxiety attack.

Principal Yaga summoned you to his office because some students — the two you expelled last week — went to complain about your nervous and excessive behavior, claiming it warranted psychological support.

Outraged, you defended yourself by pointing out the inefficiency of your team, who fail to meet your needs without considering the mental load that comes with your responsibility as the student council president. And yet, that wasn’t enough to calm Yaga, who dismissed you with a stern reminder that if you don’t finalize the Spring Formal preparations soon, he won’t hesitate to replace you with a more competent organizer.

The mere thought — no, the haunting fear—of being replaced like a cheap supermarket doll plagues your nights with nightmares.

So, the obvious anxiety growing inside you bleeds into the most crucial moments — the moments when you’re supposed to stay focused instead of silently wallowing in your situation.

“Need help, prez?”

Ripped from your daze, you lift your gaze to the voice beside you, only now realizing that he’s been sitting next to you since the start of the lecture — completely unnoticed, completely ignored.

It’s Satoru, his laptop open in front of him, a small, friendly smile turned toward you—and only you. That tiny detail sends a strange, foreign wave through your stomach — not unpleasant, though.

“Oh, you’re here,” you mumble, turning your attention back to the professor.

“Since the very start, yes,” he replies, his voice softer now, tinged with a faint hint of disappointment as he twirls his pencil between his long, nimble fingers.

A silence settles between you, neither of you seeming inclined to break it.

In the lecture hall, only the sound of keyboards clicking and the amplified voice of the professor fill the large room. You try your best to follow along, scribbling notes as diligently as you can, but at this point, it feels like trying to form words by randomly pressing keys — you understand nothing.

“Need help?”

You slowly lift your head toward the familiar voice.

“You can explain it to me later, you know?” you mutter, careful not to let anyone else overhear your conversation — it could cost you.

“And we could save time by explaining it now.” His tone is soft, rational, kind, altruistic — every synonym that embodies maturity and gentle responsibility.

He’s made of sugar. Just for you.

You sigh, finally giving in with a nod, as Satoru flips his laptop into tablet mode to explain the purpose of the chapter — the name of which you’ve only just learned, despite an hour and a half of lecture on Wave-Particle Duality.

“So,” he says, writing the formula on his tablet with a stylus. “The general concept is quite easy. Quantum objects — like electrons — can act as both particles and waves, okay?”

You nod, leaning in closer to his shoulder to observe the definitions of the formula’s terms — a faint scent brushes against your senses. Clean laundry and a subtle drop of cologne. The scent imprints itself in your lungs pleasantly enough that you have to mentally slap yourself to keep from getting distracted from Satoru’s explanations.

He glances at you with those sharp blue eyes and raises an eyebrow. “You know what wavelength means?”

“It’s just for light, right?”

He snorts quietly. “Particles.”

“Oh.”

He holds back another laugh and continues his explanations.

Several minutes later, you find your eyes glued — no, entranced — by Satoru, this nerd with glasses that hide a brain far too brilliant for you. Maybe even for the entire university.

You notice it in everything he does — setting aside his physical appearance, which you’re starting to find cuter and cuter without even realizing it — every cell of his body breathes science, logic, the thirst for discovery. His brain analyzes every possibility, his fingers manipulate rationality, and his glasses help him weigh the pros and cons. His long, straight nose gives him an infallible instinct, a sixth sense that never fails, and his smile — his pretty, thin, pink lips—illuminate hypotheses with a dangerously innocent charm.

But he himself doesn’t even realize it.

“See? It’s like… imagine if you could be both a super serious president and a total mess at physics at the same time. Oh wait — that’s already happening,” he teases, a playful, cute smile blooming on his lips as he glances at you with sparkles in his eyes.

Oh, that damn smile.

And without meaning to, you join in his laughter, covering your mouth with your palm so as not to be heard as, for the first time in weeks, a weight is lifted from your shoulders. The little analogy that might have irritated you a few days ago seems silly to you. Why do it when he’s here?

The bell rings, announcing the end of class, and the hubbub of the students urges you to put your things away as much as possible before the teacher gives you more homework than you already have just to understand the lecture.

With your bag slung over your shoulder, you make your way towards the exit, at the end of the herd of students who have made you lose sight of Satoru. A little disappointment contracts your heart, but after all, why should he be waiting for you? There was no need. You’re not friends. Just two students who are nice to each other (well, mostly Satoru).

So as you walk out of the lecture hall, you almost come face to face with a 6’3. Your nose collides painfully with a hard, bumpy surface — wait, of abs?

Impossible.

A hand much larger than yours wraps around your elbow to steady you and meets your eyes down on your wincing face.

“Oops, sorry,” Satoru apologizes as his smile evaporates. “Are you okay? I just wanted to wait for you.”

Was it abs?

“No worries, I'm fine,” you assure with a smile as self-conscious as it is forced, one hand rubbing your sore nose. “That's sweet.” Then you look away to calm the blush that spreads like a puddle from your neck to your scalp and pray it's unseen.

“You sure?” he insists with a concerned frown.

“...Sure.”

Once your face has cooled, your eyes stare at the spot on his torso where your nose collided. That flat spot under the shirt that appears a little less to you now, seen up close. It's as if with every swell of his breath, you can see the beginnings of an abdominal bulge, but you shake your head to get this far-fetched idea out of your head.

Letting your hand fall back, you offer him a more confident smile and lead the way. “Shall we?”

With a slower nod, he follows you.

To bridge the silence between the two of you in the deserted corridors, you nudge him in the ribs and say, “You know, I still don’t get how you find physics fun.”

He feigns pain and smirks — does he only smile when he’s with you?

“I don’t find it fun, strictly speaking, but really very interesting. At least, enough to make me face my major.” He pauses to give you a teasing look. “And I still don’t get how you survive on four hours of sleep.”

“I am a vampire,” you grin stupidly, “I love working at night. I feel productive.”

“I see that. Your bags speak for you,” he chortles.

“For real?” you mouth, running your fingers over your dark circles as if to check his words when it makes more sense to look in the mirror rather than feel you up.

“Just joking,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze on the floor a second before looking up back at you. “But you seem very stressed lately, am I wrong?”

You don’t answer right away, reluctant to tell him about your doubts and what’s been bothering you for weeks. But you can. This is just two friends from the same quantum physics class strolling around campus at the end of a long day, isn’t it?

But maybe not close enough for him to be really interested in you? Maybe he’s just asking questions out of politeness and not out of any real concern for you. After all, you’re not really close.

“It's alright, just uni and student council stuff, as always,” you murmur with averted eyes. “We also need to plan our next tutoring session.”

“Yeah...” Satoru shoves his hands in his pockets and lets silence fill the gap between the two of you before resuming. “Maybe we could do it somewhere else this time, couldn’t we?” he offers without much hope in his voice.

You knit your brows. “What?”

“I mean... do you—uh, never mind.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Huh?”

He seems to chicken out and look away but you catch it before he could hide it — the tips of his ears are red.

“Nothing. Just... you’re really into this whole Spring Formal thing, huh?” he mumbles.

“Of course. I have a lot of work to do on it. But what were you asking me?” you insist with a softer tone and your hand wrapping around his arm — remarkably built, you note internally.

He finally twists his neck toward you to face you, lips pursed into a conflicted pout.

“You’re going to refuse.”

“You didn’t even try to ask,” you almost in a mid gasp and chuckle.

He runs a hand through his tousled snowy hair, then slips it around the back of his neck, rubbing it like a nervous tic. “I see that you’re stressed — even if you deny it. So would you accept to... maybe do work on our tutoring lessons in a better place?” He panics slightly under your unfathomable gaze, just waiting for the next part of his words. “I mean... I know a place where it could be less stressful and more relaxing because you deserve it... But of course,” he adds hastily, “it doesn’t commit you to anything and you don’t have to accept and we can totally carry on doing it at the library because really it’s just a stupid idea and I should just keep my mouth shut—”

“Satoru.”

His heart stops beating and he thinks his brain has short-circuited as he realizes it’s the first time you've said his first name in that tone.

Softly, reassuringly, and with obvious joy.

“Of course I’d like to work with you somewhere else. It means a lot to me that you thought of me like that,” you say softly as you stop in front of some stairs so you can look him straight in the eye. “I can give you my phone number and you’ll just have to send me the address, how’s that?”

Okay. His brain really has just short-circuited.

He doesn’t even remember how he managed to hand you his phone and record your number, wish you a good evening and return to his dormitory after being subjected to your beaming smile — of a particular radiance he’s never seen before on your face in all the time, however long, he’s spent gazing at you wherever you are — radiant even.

Lying on his bed, he stares at the ceiling. The silent night allows his thoughts to grow louder, as if several were trying to express themselves at once.

However, one image takes root in his eyelids when he closes them before sleeping.

You.

~~~~

“You shouldn’t have.”

“Do you really need to make this even more embarrassing?”

You shake your head. “It’s not fair.”

His features sag, and he lets out a tiny sigh. “Just please, accept it. I made it for you.”

At your feet lies a picnic blanket with red and white checkered patterns. On top of it are homemade sandwiches, cans of fruit juice, berries, cakes, and even a tub of ice cream resting inside a mini cooler. Satoru has even arranged the space to avoid a chaotic mess while working and has brought ultra-comfortable cushions to make the tutoring session as pleasant as possible.

He can’t do this.

Not with you, who arrived at the quiet, sparsely crowded city park, right under the most magnificent Japanese cherry blossom tree.

The cool breeze blows gently around you both, sweeping away a few strands of your hair that you’re forced to tuck behind your ears.

“Sit your ass down,” Satoru mumbles, looking away to hide an obvious embarrassment, though his hand pats the empty space he left just for you.

So, reluctantly, you sit cross-legged, grabbing a random sandwich — just so he won’t sulk — and try not to cry because it’s so ridiculously delicious. The berries couldn’t be fresher or juicier than any you’ve ever tasted, and not to mention the cakes he brought. The majority of the food is sweet — his sweet tooth showing up a little too obviously.

“Hope it tastes good,” he adds, his lips forming a slight pout.

“Never ate something that good,” you respond, mouth full of food. “You’re an angel.”

The word makes him freeze for a solid thirty seconds before he shakes his head and lets his gaze drift away — always avoiding — toward the nearby lake.

The ground is sprinkled with pale pink petals, blending into the vibrant green grass of this March afternoon. A few birds chirp in the distance, hardly anyone comes near your secluded spot, and the peaceful silence reigning over the park creates the perfect environment for getting work done.

Swallowing his own mochi, Satoru watches you take out your notes on the latest physics chapter, and instead of sitting across from you, he allows himself to settle beside you this time — without you pulling away.

He was hesitant from the start and may never be able to stop feeling nervous around you. No matter how often he’s around you or how much more familiar he grows with your presence, he can’t control those sudden spikes of nervousness that hit when he’s already comfortable — only for one small action or movement to give his poor little heart a crisis.

You hand him the exercises you worked on last night, and while he reviews them, you take out your planner and notepad — the ones you carry everywhere (even to bed and the bathroom)—to go over the organization of the upcoming Spring Formal.

An event that’s happening soon. An event with absolutely nothing planned yet.

You quietly jot down notes on possible themes, but after another glance at the endless, sprawling branches of the massive cherry tree, you sigh and toss your notepad aside onto the picnic blanket. No ideas in sight. You have no choice but to admit your incompetence. Your failure is inevitable.

“Here.” Satoru hands you back your corrected exercises, and you quickly scan through them.

Since the beginning of your sessions with him, you have to admit — you’ve improved.

This time, there are fewer scribbles and corrections from Satoru. Your formulas and applications are more precise, clearer, and better developed. All thanks to your hard work and Satoru’s expert guidance — the science genius himself.

There are still some non-negligible mistakes to fix, but at least the encouraging smile from your tutor warms your chest, silently telling you that you’re on the right track.

“This is really not bad,” he murmurs softly near your shoulder. “You’re seriously improving.”

“Thanks to my good tutor,” you reply, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

“What flattery. I don’t deserve this much.” Yet his so-called humility is betrayed by the deep red blush dusting his ears.

“Quite the opposite. I wish I could pay you back somehow.”

“You don’t need to. I told you it was my pleasure to help you.”

“And I feel bad about it,” you confess in a whisper.

“Don’t,” he insists — and dares to wrap his slightly trembling, warm hand over yours on the blanket.

Your heart flutters, like a butterfly trying to take flight, only to be tossed around by the wind.

“Thank you,” you whisper, with more honesty than you’ve ever given anyone.

“For being a good friend? Don’t worry, I’m glad to have you as well, honestly,” he murmurs back, punctuating his words with a light squeeze of your hand.

“And I—” he clears his throat, “...really appreciate you.”

Friends. Appreciate you.

“I appreciate you too. Really. I’m sorry if I mess up every move you try with me to help me,” you add with an apologetic smile. “Stress always ruins my life.”

“I told you that you couldn't deny it.” He raises his eyebrows and lift up an uncertain arm — seeing you not reacting has reassured him enough to pluck up the courage to pass it around you to console you. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

You let yourself go against him, burying half your face against him. “I’m in deep shit about organizing the Spring Formal. I haven’t prepared anything, I have no idea, and yet I’ve got plenty to do. Mr. Yaga warned me that he might replace me if I went on like this, and I feel like everything’s going to shit,” you say in a breath, a tiny barrier of vulnerability cracking.

His arm tightens in an attempt at comfort. He nods slowly, inhaling long breaths of fresh air before making a clicking sound with his tongue.

“Where’s your notepad?”

You hand it to him without protest, and he immediately grabs it and flips through it. Then, when he finds a blank page, he grabs a pen lying near the two of you and jots down a few sentences, the words of which you can only read when he hands you the notebook.

“An alignment of the planets?” You raise a curious, surprised eyebrow.

He nods with his chin and sketches a smile.

“It only happens in spring, practically. And there will be one before long.” He squeezes his arm around you again and chuckles. “A theme about planets might be nice, don’t you think?”

Lips parted, you gaze into the azure sky. Himself a little disarmed by your lack of reaction, he frowns without giving up his smile and softly pronounces your first name.

With zero control over your movements, there’s nothing to stop your lips from pressing tenderly against Satoru’s smooth, soft cheek — a firm but gentle kiss leaving an invisible, indelible trace on his radiant skin as you pull away to look into his eyes again.

“You're an angel,” you repeat a second time.

Well, the second time too, when Satoru’s heart, no longer knowing how to beat, simply stops beating.

~~~~

“Move them a little more to the right— Yes, that’s perfect.”

Your trusty notepad clutched against your chest, you admire the preparations unfolding in the venue for the upcoming Spring Formal, where the theme of planetary alignment is set to make this year’s university event truly unforgettable.

Finally, you’re no longer spending your time yelling at your team and barking orders fueled by the vibrant sparks of your stress. Instead, you’re giving clear instructions, each one accompanied by an encouraging smile for everyone.

“Maybe we could add midnight blue velvet curtains,” Satoru suggests, leaning over your shoulder, his chest brushing pleasantly against your back as he glances at the list of missing decoration orders. “We could stick fake stars on them, and it’ll draw more attention to the planets. What do you think?”

“I like the idea,” you giggle, despite the way your insides somersault when his warm breath grazes your ear, sending waves of goosebumps down your skin. You jot down a few notes as Satoru leans in even closer, gently resting his chin on your shoulder. “Not surprising, coming from the quantum physics genius of the entire university.”

Even though there’s nothing official between you — not if you ignore the feelings and trust that make Satoru more confident and relaxed in your presence — nor any concrete relationship, the warm intimacy settling between you two is anything but uncomfortable.

It’s like a mutual friendship, fully acknowledged by both of you, yet intertwined with threads of love left unspoken — often betrayed by moments of closeness like this one.

“You’re gonna make me blush again,” he admits with a light laugh, soft and delicate as a cherry blossom petal.

“Oh yeah?” You turn your head toward his — just enough for your faces to be so close that the tips of your noses brush. “Why?”

He sighs, fluttering his eyes closed for a brief moment before opening them again. “You know why…”

“I’m clueless when it comes to guessing thoughts, my hot nerd tutor,” you coo, a little grin spreading across your lips — those same lips he wanted to kiss until he couldn’t breathe anymore for the rest of his life.

“Maybe I could show you, then.” And gently, he places his hands around your waist, an easy, soothing smile on his face. “Is that okay if I do that?” After your nod, his smile grows even wider. “Also, could we do our next session at my place? I can’t stay at the library today because my mom is waiting for a package while she’s at work, so she asked me to take care of it.”

“Of course.” You take note of his suggestion while the rest of your team rushes to decorate the room and move boxes — some opened, some not. Then, you turn back to him, feeling the slight tremor of his hands against your body, the way the blood rushes alarmingly fast to his face, and how his eyes avoid yours.

“Blushing?” you giggle.

“You’re not embarrassed? I mean— It’s my place, not my dorm or the library, you know,” he mumbles.

You graze a kiss on his soft cheek and grin. “You’re freaking cute.”

“I’m not joking,” he whines lowly, a small, worried furrow forming between his brows.

“As am I.” You give his arm a little squeeze. “Everything’s gonna be alright. I don’t mind having you all alone in your house, though.”

And you burst into laughter when he chokes on his own saliva at your words — having never seen someone turn so red before.

~~~~

“I knew you liked physics, but not that much.”

Before coming to set foot in Satoru’s room for the first time, you expected to be dealing with a simple, uncluttered, organized room, and above all far more filled with bookcases overflowing with books rather than...

...the opposite.

Stepping into Satoru’s room feels like entering a nerdy galaxy of controlled chaos. His desk is cluttered with thick physics textbooks, some stacked neatly, others left open mid-read, pages filled with complex equations you can’t even begin to understand. Among them, a few manga volumes peek out, half-hidden like a guilty pleasure. Above, a whiteboard covered in messy formulas and doodles dominates the wall, the marker strokes chaotic but somehow full of purpose. His ceiling is scattered with glow-in-the-dark stars, forming actual constellations if you look closely, and a floating moon lamp sat on his nightstand, casting a soft glow over his unmade bed.

Everywhere you turn, there is something to mess with — a plasma ball that lit up at your touch, a Newton’s Cradle clicking rhythmically on his desk, even a weird futuristic clock displaying time in some incomprehensible format. His monitors hum with life, one running a sci-fi screensaver while another had what looks like a physics simulation he’d probably forgotten about.

And yet, despite the overwhelming nerd energy, it was… comfortable. Lived-in. A place where ideas sparked and theories came to life — exactly what you could imagine his space would be if you’d thought things through a bit more.

“Wow,” you murmur, entranced. “It’s… just beautiful. Like a museum.”

“Heh? You’re flattering me really too much,” he chuckles nervously, scratching his neck where his undercut is. “But I’m glad if you like it. I want you to feel home,” he adds softly.

“Home?” You turn to him with a slightly embarrassed and moved smile. “You’re my home, actually.”

Nothing you say makes sense. Your racing heart lets your mouth babble nonsense and scare Satoru away. You’re far too embarrassing—

“I feel the same for you.”

Like a needle piercing a balloon, your vital organ explodes in your chest.

The next second, your brain regains control and orders your legs to move towards him, until your torsos brush against each other and your breaths mingle, giving birth to a gentle flame that burns only to be consumed.

Satoru whispers your name. “Can I try something?” he mouths.

You nod imperceptibly, your gaze lost in his ocean eyes.

Tenderly and with the most delicate gentleness, he cups your cheeks, tilting your head so that your face faces directly forehead to his. So close, you have a detailed view of the number of his light eyelashes, the different shades of blue mingling in his irises, the pleasant warmth of his tepid breath against you.

Then, his lips brush yours first, as if testing your reaction. But when your fingers latch onto his light-brown V-neck sweater, he feels the pressure rise in his blood and slowly, but suddenly, crushes his lips against yours.

It’s not rushed — just a soft press of lips, tentative, almost careful. As if he's afraid of breaking something fragile. So to encourage him, you sigh softly in contentment, then tilt your head the slightest bit to fit better, closer... Your hands remain gently clasped to his sweater.

He seems to get your message, because the next thing you know, he’s relaxing, moving more slowly and comfortably against yours. The world outside that moment doesn’t exist. Just him, just this — his lips, softer than you expected, the careful way he kisses you, as if he is memorizing every second of it. Time stretches thin, and even when you finally pull apart, neither of you move far.

Slowly, you open your eyes, only to find him already looking at you. His gaze is different now — quieter, warmer, like he is seeing you in a way he never had before.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The silence is soft, not awkward, filled with a kind of understanding that doesn’t need words. And then, just barely above a whisper, Satoru exhales a quiet, shaky laugh.

“Oh.”

Just that — like he hasn’t expected this, like he’s still processing the fact that it happened at all. And maybe it’s the way he looks at you, stunned and a little breathless, or maybe it’s just the warmth still lingering between you, but you find yourself smiling, a tiny, barely-there curve of your lips.

“Yeah,” you murmur back, voice quieter and warmer than you intended.

Neither of you moved away. Not yet.

You lower your head, a hot flush creeping up your cheeks and neck, and that's when you also understand where his “oh” is coming from.

Oh.

While he turns away to hide his face in his hands and prays to be buried in a grave on the spot, you burst out laughing — a frank, non-judgmental laugh. Simply savoring this pleasant moment with him (albeit with one small problem).

“Just with a kiss? Satoru, I swear you’re the cutest!” you continue to laugh, half-folding with your arms hugging your belly.

“It’s not f-funny!” And the poor guy doesn’t even dare turn around as he adjusts his pants, which is where his “problem” lies.

Smiling, you move closer to him, your lips still prickling from the perfect kiss. One of your hands slips to his shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he mumbles, hiding his face again from your sight.

“It is,” you insist, wrapping your hand around his wrist to look at him. “I’m not judging you, I swear. It’s not like you can control that, is it?”

“I know, but— It’s so embarrassing. I feel like a poor virgin nerd that — well, It’s not like I am not but—”

You freeze, slowly losing your smile. “Wait… you’re a virgin?”

He nods, a little shameful pout creasing his lips.

“I—” you trail off. Taking a short breath, you lower yourself a little more to look at him as he covers his crotch with one hand. “I can help you with that, you know.”

His eyes widen, heart hammering in his rib cage. “W-What?”

An umpteenth laugh shakes your chest. “I mean, yeah. I don’t mind and I like you.” Then an idea pops into your head, like a lamp regaining its light. “Like, it would make up for the effort you put into helping me get good grades. What do you think?”

He straightens abruptly and gently but firmly pushes your hand away by the wrist. A serious look despite his embrace adds.

“No way. I already told you I don’t want anything in return.”

“But it’s just to please you,” you insist, flickering your eyes. “Don’t you want to know how it feels?” You take a few steps forward until you can wrap your arms around his perfect torso — the ideal balance of slim and muscular.

Your chin rests on his breastbone, a little imploring pout on your lips.

“C’mon, just an oral, I promise. I want to return the favor.”

He swallows hard, lips parted as if the words are stuck somewhere between embarrassment and want. His gaze flickers between your face and the floor, a mix of reluctance and curiosity in his eyes.

“But I—” His voice cracks slightly, a nervous laugh escaping him. “I don’t know what I’m doing…”

You smile, a quiet, knowing smile, and slide your fingers slowly down his arm, your touch lingering on his skin. “It’s okay,” you say, your breath barely above a whisper. “I’ll guide you.”

You can see him shiver at the words, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You take your time, moving in closer, making sure to leave no space between you. Your lips brush against his jaw, a delicate kiss that makes his entire body stiffen for a split second. He doesn’t pull away, though, and that’s enough to encourage you to go further.

“Just relax,” you tease, pulling back slightly to look up at him. “I promise I’m not going to bite.”

“I know, I just need to sit a bit,” he whispers, a wave of uncertainty in his eyes.

You pull away from him, feeling the palpable tension between the two of you. “Of course.” You take his hand in yours and guide him onto his bed. When he sits down on the mattress, you find yourself kneeling between his legs.

As your hands busily unzip his straight gray twill pants, you maintain eye contact. “Tell me if it’s too much or if you wanna stop, okay love?”

Love.

He nods gently, his elbows pressed into the softness of the mattress to get a view of your movements without him lying down completely. Lips trembling, Satoru feels obliged to bite them to calm himself as the heat almost suffocates him while all he has left is his boxer shorts hiding his growing erection under the thin fabric.

You can feel the air thickening between you, charged with the kind of quiet intensity that makes your pulse race. Your fingertips wrap around the waistband of his boxers and tug them down gently, letting the fabric rub against his length while he’s hissing.

“Sweetheart—”

“Relax, I’m just getting started,” you chuckle fondly.

When the underwear is pulled down, his erection springs free, slamming on his half-covered abdomen. The poor little thing, left alone, twitches painfully — dragging sounds like cute and innocent whimpers from Satoru — like it’s begging for your touch for a decade.

You curl your lips together, genuinely stunned by his size. 7 inches isn’t nothing.

“So you’re packing this from the start?”

“I— No…” He sighs, clenching his jaw as his eyes flutter closed. “Please, it’s already embarrassing.”

“But why? You’re beautiful, Satoru. And I’m not talking about your dick,” you snort. Your gentle, affectionate tone makes Satoru forget how to breathe and open his eyes again. “You’re beautiful on the inside too.”

“You’re only flattering—”

“I am not,” you state firmly, getting up from your knees to straddle his hips and cup his cheeks until they puff like mochi’s and he’s pouting.

Fucking adorable.

“Have you ever been into a relationship?” you whisper after pecking a kiss on the corner of his lips.

He shakes his head, stuttering a no.

“So can I call you mine? Because I’d be yours if I could,” you mutter next to his jaw where you peck another kiss that makes him shiver and grip your hips with his hands.

He opens his mouth to say something and hesitates. “A-Are you sure?” he asks, eyes filled with doubt. ‘I’m a nerd and—”

“And my type is nerd guys,” you cut him off before pulling him into a passionate kiss. He gasps, tightening his grip on your as his lips gently taste your and steal his breath away. “I love you, Satoru.”

“Love you more. Since the first time I laid my eyes on you,” he murmurs back between kisses, eyelids shut.

You slightly pull away, a smile springing to your lips. “Pinning on me for so long? Aw, sorry to have been blind for this long too, then.”

He resists the urge to take you in his arms and lets you back down onto your knees, this time with his oversensitive cock throbbing in your hands as you begin to stroke it up and down, base to tip with all the slowness you can manage so as not to make him cum too quickly.

Satoru’s hips jerk up instantly, his chest rising and lowering because of his stuttering breath.

“Your hands feel so good and soft,” he whispers, sliding his big hands up to your shoulders, which he gently massages to relax you too. What a gentleman. “So much better than mine…”

“Yeah? You like it?” Eager to please him for his first time, you place a kiss on his angry red tip, licking a little strop with the tip of your own tongue.

“Hgn— easy,” he pants, hands shaking slightly as they interrupt their massages on your shoulders when yours lead them on your head, tangled with your locks. “What are you—”

“You can use my hair, if you want.” And you punctuate your words by taking his length back between your hands and kiss the fat head. It twitches in response, stealing little giggles from your sweet lips. Beads of precum leak along his length, helping you to wet him enough to stroke him faster as you part your lips and slide them down the length of him.

Satoru’s breath hitches when you take him, sucking in slow, deep strokes as your hand grips the base of him. You pull back slightly, your lips sliding back up, and you hear him groan, a sound that makes you ache. You repeat the motion, taking him deeper, sucking harder as you run your tongue along the underside of his cock, feeling him twitch in your mouth before you pull back again.

“Feel good?” you ask sweetly.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes out — even whimpering in neediness, “thank you so much…” His hands tighten in your hair, pulling you even closer, but it’s not enough.

You don’t stop. Instead, you take him deeper, your lips tightening around him as you move faster, the sound of your mouth on his cock filling the room, drowning out everything else. Satoru’s breath grows shallow, irregular, his body starting to tense, his legs flexing as he tries to hold back.

But you can feel it. The way he is so close, the way his body is winding tighter with every flick of your tongue. His fingers pulled at your hair, unsure to guide you just how he wants because what you were doing is already something he’ll owe you all his entire life — he is desperate, needing his release.

“F-Fuck,” he stutters, fingers digging in your scalp deliciously for you pleasure. “I love you, but please, g’nna—”

“—cum? Yeah, do it, love,” you purr affectionately as you teasingly suck his sensitive tip until he’s whining and fighting for his hips to not thrust up and hurt you.

He is there — at the edge — his cock twitching in your mouth, and you know he can’t hold on much longer. With one last deep, slow pull, he cums, his hips jerking as he releases into your mouth with a long, desperate groan. You swallow every drop, sucking him clean, your hands gently massaging his thighs as he slowly comes down from the high.

Satoru’s breath is ragged, his body shuddering as he slowly opens his eyes. He looks at you like you’re some sort of angel from heaven, and you smile, wiping the corner of your mouth before standing up.

“Feel better?” you ask teasingly, your voice light despite the heat still pooling in your stomach.

He sighs deeply, rubbing his eyes before carefully sitting up and hugs you in a tight embrace. He blows kisses all over your face, murmuring thank yous and how much he loves you and you find yourself in awe.

“You’re welcome, it’s the least that I can do for you, after all.” You press a big, firm, and sincere kiss on his cheek, and cannot stop smiling.

~~~~

The main room is bathed in a deep blue, soft, ambient light, the atmosphere almost otherworldly. Stars shimmer faintly on the walls, and delicate, hanging lanterns cast a stunning cold glow, like constellations scattered across the ceiling. The whole room seems alive, breathing with energy, as guests drift through the space, their laughter and chatter blending into a gentle hum.

At the center of the hall are huge telescopes, available for anyone curious enough to observe tonight’s planet alignment. The most important event of the Spring Formal.

Around the perimeter, tables are set with shimmering candles, their flames flickering softly, casting shadows on the faces of the students who’ve come to admire the setup. The smell of roses and lavender lingers in the air, mixing with the faint scent of freshly baked treats at the snack table. It feels like a dream — a celebration of the night sky brought to life.

Satoru stands beside you, his hand lightly brushing against yours as you both take in the beauty of the room. His smile is small but warm, his gaze drifting from the decorations to the crowd. There’s an unspoken pride in the way he looks at you, knowing you had a hand in making all of this happen, bringing the theme of the planets to life with such care.

“This is... perfect,” he says, voice soft but full of admiration. His words are simple, but they carry weight. You feel a soft warmth settle in your chest at the sincerity in his tone.

A small smile blooms on your lips. “Yeah…” you agree, turning to face him fully, now a grin spreading across your face. “It really turned out great. Thanks to you.”

His cheeks tint pink at the praise, and he shrugs, trying to act nonchalant, but the pride in his eyes is unmistakable.

“You really made this all come together,” he says, voice full of admiration. “It’s amazing.”

For a moment, you simply smile at each other, a comfortable silence settling between you. The warmth of his gaze makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“Want to dance?” you ask, already knowing his answer, but wanting to ask all the same.

He hesitates for a moment, that same shy, unsure side of him creeping back, but the smile on his lips says everything.

“Yeah,” he says, his hand finding yours once again, this time with more confidence. “I’d love to.”

As you both step onto the dance floor, the lights change again, and for a moment, the two of you are surrounded by the glow of the stars and lanterns, your bodies moving to the soft music that fills the room. It’s not a fast, frantic dance — just slow and gentle, like you’re in your own little world. You feel the gentle sway of the music, and the weight of everything around you fades, leaving just the two of you in perfect harmony.

Maybe it’s the magic of the planets aligning, or maybe it’s just him — but either way, you think, you wouldn’t mind orbiting around Gojo Satoru a little longer.

a/n: there we go! I AM DRAINED BC OF SCHOOL AND COURSES GUIDANCE BC LAW IS SO HARDDDD!! hum hum, beside that, i hope you guys had a nice week and that you are all taking care of your little faces (if not i'm gonna do it for you). writing this felt like... refreshing? i mean, nerdjo is the little mochi i'm eating when i go to the supermarket lol. and gosh, he's so cute that i'm going crazy haha.

reblogs, comments, and likes are very appreciated as always <3

also, this is how i pictured this cutie pie:

tags: @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wisheclairr @sanemistar @monokaix

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