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sixxels · 12 days ago

Text

babydoll

frat!gojo x shy!fem reader !!

part 1 ! part 2 ! part 3 !

final !!

wc : 11.8k (haha)

disclaimer !! SMUT FINALLY. slight sukuna x reader, slow burn, fluff, angst/comfort, yearning satoru, whipped satoru, satoru is just so enamoured with reader omg. follows the ‘was i just a bet?’ premise!! reader is implied to wear very cutesy kinds of clothings and enjoys very girly and feminine things !!

the party was booming.

music thumped through the floors, bodies moved in rhythm, and laughter spilled from every room. lights danced across the walls in a kaleidoscope of red and gold, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged. not because you fit in, but because gojo satoru made it feel like you did.

you were tucked into his side on a battered leather couch, sipping from a red cup that had long since gone flat. his hand rested on your knee, thumb brushing gentle arcs against your skin as he talked with someone from his econ class. you weren’t really listening to the conversation. you were too busy soaking it in, the way his laugh rumbled in his chest, the way he glanced at you every few seconds like you might disappear if he looked away too long.

occasionally he'd lean over and kiss your forehead, a gesture that was becoming pretty common for the two of you, never on the lips, but still just as sweet.

it felt real.

it felt safe.

until the front door slammed open like a gunshot.

you flinched.

the music didn’t stop, not right away. it dimmed only when the shouting started.

“yo,” someone jeered from the entryway, voice loud and slurred. “what the hell? no invite for us?”

you felt gojo go still beside you. his hand left your knee and curled into a fist as he stood, gaze narrowing.

a ripple of silence spread through the crowd as heads turned toward the intrusion.

there, standing under the dim porch light like a devil in designer, was sukuna.

his bleached pink hair was messy in that practiced way, a silver chain clinking around his neck. tattoos snaked up his arms, ink stark against skin, and his smug grin curled like smoke.

flanking him were a half-dozen beta tau guys, all posturing and laughing, like this was their turf too.

“great,” gojo muttered, barely audible over the silence. “this fucker.”

sukuna's eyes scanned over the crowd, smirking as he saw you. you didn't look, you just kept your head low.

“gojo,” came a new voice, toji, black shirt half-unbuttoned, eyes storm-dark as he pushed through the crowd. “you wanna tell me why beta scum is breathing our air?”

“relax, creatine,” sukuna sneered, lifting his chin. “didn’t know we needed permission to show up at some busted up house party.”

toji grinned, all teeth. “funny. you don’t need permission to show up, but you sure as hell need it to stay.”

sukuna took a step forward. “you trying to start something, fushiguro?”

“what if i am fuck face?”

the crowd shifted, some people backing away, others watching with wide eyes like it was a sport. tension coiled like a loaded spring.

suguru appeared beside toji, brows furrowed, calm but ready, putting a hand on toji’s massive arm. “this isn’t your scene, sukuna. you should leave.”

but sukuna only laughed. “you alpha boys always get soft when there’s girls around. is that what this is? a little date night for gojo and my left overs?”

your body tenses at that, shit, he saw you.

toji’s hand clenched at his side. “watch your mouth.”

“oh?” sukuna turned to him, smug and taunting. “don’t tell me you’re playing guard dog for her too. what, she making rounds through all the frats now?”

before anyone could move, toji closed the distance and shoved sukuna back a step.

“say it again.”

sukuna’s smirk turned feral. “you gonna hit me, asshole?”

toji leaned in, voice low and lethal. “i’ve been waiting to. since the day i watched you drag her out of the kappa mixer like a caveman.”

‘oh, so it was you.’ gojo thought, how did toji know that of all people?

that wiped the smile off sukuna’s face.

he straightened, eyes burning.

“she was mine.”

“no,” gojo said suddenly, voice cold and steady as he stepped between them. “she was never yours.”

sukuna turned to him, expression flickering.

and that’s when it happened.

he looked past gojo. past the crowd.

right at you.

it was like all the air got sucked out of the room.

his eyes, red and sharp like broken glass, locked onto yours, and for a second, you weren’t in the alpha phi house anymore. you were back in his car, staring at the dashboard while he screamed at you. back at that beta tau party, clutching your phone while he pulled you through the hallway like you were furniture. back in his room, being thrown around and told to strip. 'just take it and shut the fuck up.'

you froze.

heart in your throat. nails digging into your palms.

you hadn’t seen him in months, but just like that, the fear came flooding back.

like your body remembered before your mind did.

his mouth moved into something that might’ve passed as a smile to someone else. but you knew better. it wasn’t warmth, it was possession.

“hey, y/n… look at me.”

gojo’s hand touched your back. gentle. grounding.

you blinked.

he had moved back to you, eyes soft even as his jaw was tight. “you okay?”

you swallowed hard and nodded.

but your hands were shaking.

gojo turned back toward sukuna, something deadly in his voice now.

“don’t look at her. don’t talk about her. you don’t even think about her.”

sukuna rolled his eyes. “she’s not yours, dick head.”

“she’s not yours either,” gojo snapped. “and she never fucking will be.”

sukuna’s gaze darkened. “so this is the game now, huh? you’re playing boyfriend?"

gojo’s voice dropped an octave. “no. i’m being a decent person. and if you don’t walk out of here right now, i won’t stop toji from knocking your ass into next semester, regulations be damned.”

the tension was a wire about to snap.

sukuna looked around the room, at toji, suguru, the other frat boys who were closing in, all watching him like a lit fuse. he smiled.

sukuna’s eyes flicked from gojo to you.

that smirk didn’t fade, it sharpened.

“cute,” he sneered. “she’s hiding behind you now. bet you think you’re special.”

toji’s laugh was cold as he stepped into sukuna’s line of sight to obscure his vision of you. “nah, but i know you’re still a pathetic little bitch.”

the room snapped like a tensioned wire.

sukuna’s gaze shifted, deadly now, locking onto toji like a predator who’d just spotted something worth hunting.

“funny,” he said, stepping forward. “you still mad i fucked your girl, or should i say ex?”

toji didn’t respond. he just moved.

in a blur, he grabbed sukuna by the collar and slammed him into the wall. the entire party jolted as the drywall cracked.

“watch your mouth.”

“make me.”

the first punch landed with a crunch, toji’s fist slamming into sukuna’s jaw, hard enough to echo. sukuna staggered, then retaliated, kneeing toji in the ribs before throwing a savage right hook. the force sent toji stumbling into the snack table, knocking red cups and bowls everywhere.

and then it was on.

chaos detonated.

a beta tau brother lunged toward toji from the side, but suguru intercepted, grabbing the guy mid-charge and flipping him over the arm of the couch with a loud thud. another tried to tackle suguru from behind, but choso clotheslined him mid-run, beer bottle still in his other hand like a trophy. (🫦🫦🫦)

gojo’s head snapped around, eyes narrowing as the entire alpha phi living room turned into a war zone.

sukuna and toji were trading blows in the center like heavyweight fighters, each punch drawing blood or bruises. toji’s nose was bleeding now, and sukuna’s mouth was split, but neither was backing down. they circled like rabid dogs.

suguru shoved off another attacker, ducking a wild punch from a tattooed beta tau called shiu. “you guys came here to start shit?” he barked. “seriously? didn’t you get wrecked enough last semester?”

“you talk a lot for a guy who got benched half the season,” shiu hissed, lunging.

suguru cracked him across the cheek with a swift elbow, then ducked to avoid a flailing swing. “still scored higher than your gpa.”

in the corner, nanami had joined the dismay, elegant but deadly, blocking two punches like he’d done this before. “please refrain from bleeding on the rug,” he muttered, landing a clean, punishing jab to someone’s gut. “it’s antique.”

somewhere behind you, you heard glass shatter.

choso yelled something about the tv.

someone screamed “yo! get the baseball bat!—”

you flinched, ducking behind a tipped-over armchair. the room was spinning with bodies, noise, fists, and swearing.

you spotted itadori trying to pull guys apart. “dude, chill—CHILL!” he shouted, physically yanking a beta tau and alpha phi apart. “this is so not frat regulation!”

“frat regulation?” todo huffed, bear pawing someone across the chest. “those fuckers threw that out the window the second they stepped foot in here!”

meanwhile, gojo’s eyes stayed locked on sukuna.

he didn’t even flinch as someone swung at him, he ducked effortlessly, then shoved the guy aside, cutting through the disarray like gravity bent around him.

toji was on the defensive now, blood dripping from his temple. sukuna laughed, manic, high off adrenaline. “thought you were tough,” he goaded, grabbing toji by the hair and trying to knee him in the face.

gojo saw red. toji was his brother, and sukuna was playing dirty.

he moved.

sukuna didn’t even see him coming.

gojo grabbed him by the shoulder and ripped him away from toji, slamming him into the nearest wall so hard a picture frame fell.

“you want someone to fight?” gojo said, voice ice. “try me.”

sukuna spat blood. “finally.”

he lunged.

the two of them crashed into the coffee table, splinters and glass flying as gojo ducked the first blow and returned a brutal one to sukuna’s ribs. they rolled across the floor, fists slamming into flesh, grunts and swears flying.

gojo was everywhere, dodging, striking, blocking with clean precision. sukuna was wilder, bloodier, all rage and ego.

gojo’s knuckles were split. his lip was bleeding.

but he didn’t stop.

“dont even think about laying a hand on her you fucker,” he snarled, slamming sukuna’s head against the floorboards.

sukuna wheezed, grinning through the pain. “so that’s what this is? you fighting for your little toy? mad i fucked her first?”

gojo punched him in the gut.

“she’s not a toy,” he growled. “she’s a fucking person. and you treated her like fucking trash.”

sukuna tried to twist out of his grip, but gojo was faster. he pinned him down again, forearm to his throat.

“look at her,” he hissed. “go ahead. look at what you did.”

sukuna’s eyes flicked toward you.

you were crouched behind the chair still, shaking, pale, your eyes wide and glassy. you weren’t the same girl he’d dragged around like an accessory. you were trembling now, but not in the way he remembered. there was fear, yes.

but there was also disgust.

that finally did it.

sukuna’s grin cracked.

gojo leaned in close. “you don’t scare her anymore. you sicken her.”

the beta tau boys were pulling back now, dragging sukuna off gojo, yelling things about lawsuits and retaliation, but none of them had the stomach for a second round. their leader looked worse than he ever had, bloody, bruised, humiliated on the floor of a rival frat house.

and as gojo stood, breath ragged, fists still curled.

everyone saw the shift.

this wasn’t just a frat brawl anymore.

this was a line being drawn in blood.

suguru was the first to break the silence, glaring at sukuna and his lackies.

“come into our frat uninvited again and you’re getting put on a shirt.”

the beta tau boys scrambled out like rats, half-carrying sukuna, who kept swearing and spitting blood between gasps. one of them shouted something about calling their president. no one cared.

the front door slammed shut behind them.

silence fell like a dropped curtain.

a beer pong ball rolled slowly across the floor and bumped against someone’s shoe.

toji wiped his nose with the back of his hand, blood smearing across his cheek. he was breathing hard, leaning on the wall, chest heaving. suguru stood next to him, knuckles raw, eyes still hard. nanami had already pulled a tie from somewhere and was cinching it around someone’s arm like a tourniquet. choso was picking glass out of his palm and mumbling about his jacket.

“well,” todo grunted, brushing off his shirt. “that escalated.”

gojo didn’t move at first.

he stood in the center of the room, shoulders tense, hands still curled into fists. his lip was bleeding, and one eye was already starting to bruise. he looked like he was barely holding himself together.

until he saw you.

you were still crouched behind the armchair, arms wrapped around yourself, eyes wet.

gojo’s expression cracked.

he crossed the room in three long strides, dropping to his knees in front of you. “hey,” he said softly, voice rough from screaming at sukuna. “sweet girl, you okay?”

you nodded before you even thought about it, but your eyes were trembling.

“look at me.” his hand cupped your face, gentle even though his fingers were scraped raw. “you’re safe. he’s gone. he’s not gonna come close to you ever again.”

you nodded again. but the tears had already started.

he pulled you into his arms.

you went willingly.

the moment you were against his chest, it all broke loose,sobs wracking through you like a wave crashing into shore. you clutched his shirt, buried your face in his neck, and cried like your body had been holding it in for too long.

he didn’t say anything. he just held you. nothing else mattered anymore. not the bet, not sukuna, not anyone. only you.

arms wrapped around you tight, one hand cradling your head, the other stroking slow circles on your back.

“i’m sorry,” you choked. “i didn’t mean to—”

“don’t,” he said immediately, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye. “don’t apologize. none of this is your fault.”

“but if i hadn’t—”

“no.” he kissed your forehead, the gesture becoming common nower days. “don’t. he’s the problem. not you.”

you didn’t have the words.

but he didn’t need them.

across the room, suguru was already barking cleanup orders to the uninjured alpha boys. toji was still glaring at the door like he might chase sukuna down the block. nanami was helping itadori corral people who hadn’t left yet.

and in the middle of it all, gojo stayed with you.

sure he was the president, supposed to be helping out, but you were more important to him right now.

his voice was quiet now, just for you. “i’ve got you. okay? nothing’s gonna hurt you. not while i’m here.”

you believed him.

for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, you really, truly believed someone would fight for you.

and he had.

bloody knuckles. bruised lip. rage in his voice.

gojo satoru hadn’t just fought for you.

he’d drawn a line.

and he was standing on your side.

the house was quieter now.

not silent, too many people still muttering, too many footsteps creaking on stairs, but the chaos had passed. the storm was over.

gojo didn’t say much as he led you upstairs.

his hand held yours the whole time, warm and steady. a grounding anchor. he opened the door to his room with a wince,his shoulder was already stiff from the fight, but he still managed to flash you a small smile.

you were no stranger to his room by now.

he helped you sit down at the edge of the bed.

“stay right there.”

you watched as he disappeared into his closet and came back with a hoodie, one of his favorites, oversized and navy blue, worn soft from too many washes.

“here.” he held it out. “you’re probably cold.”

you took it with a quiet thank you and tugged it over your head. it smelled like him too. familiar and safe.

gojo crouched in front of you again, reaching out gently. “can i?” he asked, nodding toward your face.

you nodded.

his fingertips brushed your cheek, tucking hair behind your ear. “you’re okay,” he murmured, more to himself than you. “you’re okay, you’re okay…”

you caught his hand before he pulled away. “you’re hurt, satoru.”

he blinked, then looked down at his knuckles like he’d forgotten. they were raw and crusted with blood, split open in places. his lip was cracked, too, and a bruise was starting along his cheekbone.

“i’ve had worse,” he said with a shrug. “toji once clocked me so hard i couldn’t chew for three days.”

you didn’t laugh. your fingers tightened around his.

he sobered instantly. “i’m okay. swear. just a little bruised.”

“you didn’t have to do that,” you whispered. “not for me.”

he sat beside you, close enough that your knees touched. “yes, i did.”

“but—”

“he hurt you,” gojo said quietly. “and i saw it. i saw what it did to you. how scared you were.” his jaw clenched. “you’re the strongest person i know, but no one should ever have to be that strong just to survive someone asshole like him.”

your throat tightened.

“i couldn’t stand there and let him scare you again. not after everything.”

he looked down at his lap, hands resting there, flexing absently. “i’ve never wanted to hit someone so bad in my life, and i know the others hate him too, okay? this is not your fault.”

you leaned into him. slowly. carefully. until your head was against his shoulder and his arm curled around you instinctively.

he held you like that, quiet, steady, heart still racing under his ribs.

“thank you,” you said.

“you don’t have to thank me for loving you,” he said, barely above a whisper.

your heart stopped.

had you heard that right?

was he really talking about love?! you weren't even dating!

you looked up.

he didn’t flinch. didn’t backpedal. just looked at you with that same open, raw expression he always gave you when he meant something with his whole chest.

“i know it’s early,” he said, lips quirking into the tiniest smile. “but i don’t really do the whole slow-burn thing. when i feel something, i feel it all the way.”

your breath hitched.

“so yeah,” he continued. “i love you. and if that means punching my way through a room full of assholes to make sure you’re safe, i’ll do it. every time.”

before your eyes could tear up again, you kissed him.

gently.

like you were learning what softness could be again.

he kissed you back, careful and sweet, one hand cupping your cheek like you were something precious.

when you pulled away, he smiled.

“let’s get some ice on that bruise,” you said, brushing a thumb over his cheek.

“yes ma’am,” he grinned. “but only if you stay and watch the lion king with me.”

“deal.”

you curled up in bed together, legs tangled, your head on his chest, a bag of frozen peas balanced on his face, and a disney movie playing low on his laptop.

safe.

finally, finally safe.

the aftermath hit like the hangover no one wanted to have.

by monday morning, the entire campus was buzzing with one thing and one thing only, the alpha phi party that turned into a free for all.

it was in whispered conversations in lecture halls. it was in blurry snap stories that got deleted after campus admin flagged them. it was in the instagram group chats, the anonymous confession pages, and even the comments section of a rogue post on the university subreddit titled “gojo v. sukuna: ultimate frat showdown (ft. toji ‘breaks drywall for fun’ fushiguro).”

everyone had an opinion.

and no one really knew the full story.

but that didn’t matter.

what mattered was the image: blood on the floor, gojo stepping over sukuna like a final boss, and the way you, silent, shaken, but still standing, had stared down the monster everyone thought was untouchable.

you heard the rumours, but your mind was only filled with what gojo had said to you that night. how he held you in his arms after telling you he loved you. and god, that was all you needed. nothing else mattered,

until it did.

the next morning, sukuna didn’t show up to class.

but that didn’t mean he wasn’t scheming.

in the darkened interior of the beta tau house, sukuna sat with an ice pack pressed to his jaw, eyes unfocused.

he could still feel gojo’s fist in his ribs. still taste blood in the back of his throat. he hadn’t been humiliated like that since—well, ever. not publicly. not in front of half the greek system and the girls who used to throw themselves at his feet.

now?

now he was the villain in everyone’s story.

and he hated it.

“yo, you good?” asked jogo, dropping onto the couch with a protein shake in hand.

“no,” sukuna snapped. “fuck off.”

“dude, we tried to tell you, alpha phi doesn’t fuck around.”

sukuna ignored him.

he needed leverage. a way to claw back what was his, not the frat clout, not even the fear. you.

you had looked at him like he was nothing.

and that cut deeper than any punch gojo could throw.

he stood, ice pack hitting the floor. he needed air, or maybe just silence. something to stop the buzzing in his brain. he headed toward the back patio, lit a cigarette he didn’t even want, and stepped into the cold.

that’s when he heard it.

voices, just beyond the hedges by the fire pit.

two guys walking past to the gym situated next to the beta tau house.

toji’s voice, low, unmistakable, smug.

“—i still can’t believe you let that shit get out. gojo bet on her dude. 2000 dollars. now he’s head over heels.”

a scoff. choso.

“i don’t think gojo was thinking straight. he wasn’t supposed to fall for her.”

sukuna froze.

toji again. “yeah, well, now he’s acting like she’s the love of his life. not just some stupid bet.”

sukuna stepped closer, just behind the stone column.

choso grunted. “shit was supposed to be a joke. he was supposed to bag the shy girl, throw her a bone, and dip. i didn’t think he was even interested at first.”

“until she got cute.”

“yeah, or until sukuna started sniffing around.”

toji laughed. “classic gojo. can’t let anything belong to someone else. i like y/n tho, she's cool. got that whole girl next door thing going, didn't mind gettin abit bloodied up over her.”

sukuna’s hand curled around the edge of the wall.

there it was.

the angle.

the weapon.

he didn’t need fists. he didn’t need revenge porn or threats or violence.

he needed truth.

or what sounded close enough to it.

by mid-week, the whispers about the fight had started mutating.

what started as 'gojo beat sukuna’s ass for being a creep' turned into 'gojo’s just territorial' and then warped into 'gojo and sukuna fought over some bet girl.'

sukuna was playing his cards well, whispering things to all the sorority chicks that still hung around him. he knew how they liked to gossip.

'gojo bet on some girl?'

you weren’t even the first to hear it, from yuki. she had sent you a post from a confession page of your university.

'i heard that gojo was only with that girl at the party because he bet $100 on her. that’s rough!'

another one stated.

'i knew gojo didn’t actually turn soft for some quiet wall flower. i mean come on, he’s a slut, that was never a thing.'

you swallowed as you read some more.

'yep, 100% a bet. and he’s winning so far, she seems like a clueless fucking idiot, still walking around with him like some lost puppy.'

you felt suffocated, your world was slowly darkening as your eyes went dull. of course this wasn’t real, he wasn't real. of course.

you shut off your phone, ignoring the sweet messages gojo was sending you. maybe that’s why he hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet, he was never planning on longevity. he told you he loved you to keep you on your toes, and god damnit it worked.

you weren’t going to be strung along any longer. you promised yourself you were going to stop hoping for a change in men, especially ones like satoru. the heart break you were feeling wasn’t anything like when you were sukuna. it was more crushing, more defeating. like you were really just some stupid idiot who got played by the notorious satoru gojo.

one thing you knew for sure, you were done with satoru gojo.

the rumors were like weeds.

and gojo could feel them curling around his ankles.

every hallway he walked down came with a wave of hushed tones. every class, every lunch line, every stop at the rec center. he could see it in the way people glanced at him, more curious than impressed now.

he didn’t care about his reputation. he cared about yours.

and when he caught two girls in the library whispering your name followed by the words 'pity project', he saw red.

he slammed the book in his hands shut, making them jump.

“is there something you want to say to my face?” he asked, calm but dangerous.

they didn’t. of course they didn’t.

but the damage was done.

he needed to find suguru.

suguru was in the alpha phi common room, looking worse for wear, one knuckle taped, a gash on his jaw.

he looked up when gojo stormed in.

“yo.”

gojo didn’t respond right away. he just threw a screenshot down on the coffee table.

it was from an anonymous confessions page.

'the only reason gojo’s simping over her is cause of some bet. sucks she thought it was legit. pretty brutal.'

suguru stared.

then sighed. “fuck.”

“yeah,” gojo snapped. “fuck.”

“i didn’t say anything. i swear. neither did nanami or choso. i—I don’t even think toji would’ve. not to sukuna.”

gojo’s jaw ticked. “someone did.”

suguru was silent.

“do you know how this looks?” gojo hissed. “she was scared, suguru. she saw that bastard’s face and shut down. and now she’s the one being dragged for it?”

“i know.”

“she’s not even talking to me.”

suguru blinked. “what?”

gojo dropped onto the couch, ran a hand through his hair. “she won’t answer. i’ve been texting her since sunday. she's left me on read.”

“shit.”

gojo stared at the floor.

“i never really thought about that bet,” he muttered. “i never even thought about her like that at first. i didn’t even want to be part of that stupid shit.”

“i know you didn’t.”

“i thought if i just stayed quiet, it wouldn’t touch her. but i was already in too deep.”

suguru nodded slowly. “and now sukuna’s using it.”

“yeah.”

silence.

then suguru stood. “we’ll fix it.”

gojo looked up.

“you’re not the same guy you were when you shook on it. she knows that. she’s just… scared. and not just of him. she’s scared of being played again. of being humiliated.”

“i would never—”

“i know. but she doesn’t. not completely. not yet.”

gojo swallowed. “so what do i do?”

“tell her everything. the whole story. before that bastard sukuna does.”

sukuna didn’t go for a direct attack.

no.

he started planting seeds.

a stray comment at a mixer: “gojo really did that, huh?”

a post on his burner account: “it’s crazy how guys can fake a personality just long enough to win a bet.”

and then the cherry on top: a note slipped under your dorm door.

no name. no return address.

just a single sentence:

ask him if you’re worth $2000.

you read it twenty times, hands trembling.

you didn’t know what it meant in this context, but you knew who “him” was.

and suddenly, the rumours, the whispers, the edge in toji’s voice the night of the party, it all clicked into place.

you’d been a bet.

a checklist item.

you had guessed as much, but this note seemed to really put things into perspective…

you had never felt so humiliated, so torn.

about two weeks had passed.

the weight of it hit him hardest in the quiet moments, when his phone buzzed and it wasn’t you. when he passed your building and saw your window dark when he'd go on walks at night around campus, when his own reflection in the mirror stared back hollow-eyed and bruised, with no one to hold his jaw and tell him to sit still while they pressed frozen peas to his face.

gojo had never been afraid of much. not pain, not humiliation, not even losing. but the thought of losing you? of you thinking even for a second that he’d played you, used you, humiliated you? that fucking petrified him.

he sat at the edge of his bed now, elbows on his knees, fingers laced and red from stress. the party lights, the noise, the crowd’s laughter, they were all static now. all he could think about was how soft your voice had sounded when you said he didn’t have to fight for you. and how wrong you were.

he had to fight. because he’d failed you once already, the moment he’d let a stupid, careless bet ruin the bond you two shared.

the more he learned about you, the less he could stomach the bet. you made him want to be better. softer. real. you didn’t give a shit about clout, didn’t care about who he was to everyone else, you looked at him like he was just a guy. and for the first time in his life, that was all he wanted to be.

just your guy.

but now you were gone. and he didn’t blame you, how could he?

what he’d said the night of the fight wasn’t a performance. it wasn’t just adrenaline. he meant every word. he loved you. loved the way you spoke when you finally let your voice rise. loved the way you always folded your hands in your lap when you were nervous. loved how fiercely you loved, even when you were afraid to.

now he had to prove it.

step one: own it. no dodging. no half-truths. if he wanted to make things right, he had to be honest, about the bet, about how it started, about when it stopped being a bet.

he started with a letter.

not a text, not a dm. handwritten. honest. the kind of vulnerability he used to flinch from.

he didn’t overthink it. he just wrote.

' hey,

i don’t even know how to start this. i’ve written and rewritten this stupid thing a dozen times... every version sounded either too rehearsed or too pathetic. but i guess when you screw up as bad as i did, there’s no pretty way to say it.

you deserve the truth. the real one. not the half-story people are whispering about. not the twisted version sukuna is spreading. and definitely not the one where you end up painted as a joke.

so here it is.

when i first asked for your number, that wasn't the first time i had seen you. it was actually a few days before and you were sitting alone under an oak tree at the cafe we had our first hang out at. you looked so fucking breathtaking y/n. never in my damn life had i looked at someone and felt that captured by them. you just existed in your own quiet world, and somehow that made me want to crash into it.

but i didn’t. not right away.

because i didn’t know how to approach someone like you. someone real. someone who looked as fragile and beautiful as you. so i just ignored it, ignored you. it was easier than being the guy who gets too attached, who feels too much. the guy who ends up caring more than he should. and god, i thought about you all day, and my friends were starting to notice.

then came the bet.

it was stupid. it started as a joke between suguru and choso. something like, “gojo is thinking too heavy about this girl he hasn't even made a move on yet, how comical.” i laughed it off. i always do with them. but then it became a thing. they threw money down, $500. said i couldn’t get you to sleep with me.

and i should’ve shut it down. right then. i should’ve said no, sweetheart. i should of said no.

but i didn’t.

i quadrupled it. because i felt my whole take a hit. it's so fuckijg stupid, i know. i said 2 grand says i can sleep with her by the end of may, and me and suguru shook on it.

i did it because part of me was curious. not about winning, about you. the bet was just a personal excuse to get myself to actually work up the nerve to speak to you.

so yeah. that’s the ugly truth.

it started with a bet.

but that’s not where it stayed.

because from the moment i actually talked to you, really talked to you, i felt like an idiot. you weren’t some game or conquest. you were funny in this adorable, shy way that made me want to cradle you and keep you in my arms forever. you said what you meant, in the most sincere and honestly cute way. you made me want to be quiet just to hear what you’d say next.

and somewhere in there, i forgot about the bet.

it wasn’t important anymore. it wasn’t even a thing in my head. not when you smiled at me for the first time. not when you let me walk you home. not when you touched my hand like it meant something, when we spent all this nights curled up on my bed watching movies together.

i never told you about it because i was ashamed. because i didn’t want that to be the lens you saw me through. and maybe that was selfish. maybe i should’ve come clean earlier. but i kept thinking 'i’ll tell her tomorrow. i’ll tell her when she knows me better. when she knows i’d rather bleed on a frat house floor than see her scared again.'

but then, somehow sukuna found out.

and i knew it was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down.

he got his ego stomped on when the fight broke out and he weaponised what he heard to the max. spreading the rumour like wild fire.

that note he left you? yeah, i knew the second you got it. yuki called me and screamed at me for hurting you so bad. you didn’t answer my texts for two days after, and i felt like i couldn’t breathe. i know that sounds dramatic. but you don’t understand, you were my air. the first thing i thought about when i woke up, the last before i crashed at night. every time you touched me, i wanted to ask if i was dreaming.

and now? i’ve lost the right to even text you without a response.

so here it is. all of it.

i didn’t kiss you because of a bet. i kissed you because i was falling. hard. i told you i loved you that night because i meant it. i would’ve said it again the next morning. and the one after that.

i didn’t ask you to be mine yet because i was scared. i know, me, satoru gojo, scared. but i was. you made me want things i never thought i could have. a quiet morning. a bond full of love and trust instead of a fling full of lust. a life that didn’t revolve around proving anything to anyone.

and i thought maybe i had time. time to earn your trust. to show you i wasn’t just another frat guy who got lucky with a pretty girl.

but i don’t have time anymore, do i?

because now you think i lied to you. played you. used you like some kind of trophy.

and maybe i deserve that, because it's true, and i know how fucked uo what i did was.

maybe i’ll never be able to wipe that stain from us.

but i needed you to know it was real. you are real. every second i spent with you, every laugh, every night we talked until your eyes drifted closed against my chest, that was mine. that was ours.

i love you.

not because you’re the kind of girl a guy wins bets over, but because you’re the kind of girl a guy loses them for.

and i would lose that bet a hundred times over if it meant i got to hold you once more.

if you never want to see me again, i get it. i do.

but if there’s any part of you that still believes in me,still believes in us, then come to me.

even if you don’t show, i’ll sit and wait. for as long as it takes.

—satoru '

he folded it carefully, wrote your name on the outside, and dropped it at your dorm with the gentlest knock he could manage.

he went to yuki. he apologised for the way this all dragged you through the mud. asked her, quietly, if she’d let you know his letter was waiting. not to pressure you, just so you knew.

then he called in a favor from shoko, who ran the school’s unofficial gossip-stopper group chat. a screenshot from her burner account landed on every platform within hours.

'bet or not, gojo’s been yearning for this girl for weeks, defending her name even after everything came out. maybe ask why sukuna’s the one pushing the narrative so much? is he jealous? vengeful after his beat down the other night?.'

it didn’t make the problem go away, but it made people pause from the constant gossip.

gojo knew it wouldn’t be a single moment of redemption. no one cheers for a frat boy with a redemption arc. and that was fine. this wasn’t about them.

he still brought you a cup of your favorite coffee the next morning. left it outside your door with a napkin under it.

he wrote: 'still here. still yours. —s.g.'

he still paused outside your classes, just to make sure you were getting in okay.

he still left you space.

because he knew this was going to be on your terms now.

he had made damn sure of that.

and if you never opened the letter, never texted back, never looked at him again, then he’d carry that.

because the only thing worse than losing you was knowing he’d made you feel small. made you feel like a bet when you were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

but if you did open that letter… if there was even a chance you’d let him say it all to your face, he’d be waiting. always.

because loving you wasn’t a game, it was the end of one.

and the start of everything else.

you read the letter once.

then twice.

by the third time, your tears were soaking into the ink.

your chest hurt, tight and aching, like it might collapse in on itself. because this—this—felt more honest than anything you’d ever been given before. raw and bleeding. scared and unfiltered.

the silence in your dorm room was thick.

you reached for your phone with a trembling hand.

it had lit up earlier with his name, his sweet messages, each one ignored in your panic and heartbreak. you hadn’t even read the last few.

now, you scrolled through them with a new lens.

gojo: hey. i miss you.

gojo: please just let me explain.

gojo: i didn’t mean to hurt you. i swear.

gojo: you’re not some bet. you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

your heart cracked.

you grabbed the note again, fingers brushing the last line: even if you don’t show, i’ll sit and wait.

it was nearly 9:30pm, you didn’t even think, you just moved.

sweatpants. hoodie. the jacket he once draped over your shoulders without asking.

you left your dorm and ran, not because you forgave him. not yet. but because something deep inside you, some aching, lonely, tender part, wanted to believe that love could still be real, even after it started wrong. and maybe, just maybe, gojo satoru was brave enough to prove it.

you didn’t knock.

you couldn’t.

your hands were trembling too hard. your thoughts were a storm, your pulse a drumbeat in your throat. you stood outside the alpha phi frat for longer than you cared to admit, the cold biting at your fingers, that letter clenched tight in your hand like it might vanish if you let go.

you didn’t know what you were expecting.

fireworks? rain? a crowd?

maybe you thought he wouldn’t be here.

but when you opened the door (it was always unlocked), quiet, slow, he was right there.

sitting on the steps inside the house, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed like he’d been carved from stillness.

like he’d been waiting.

you didn’t say anything at first.

just stood in the entryway, frozen, every breath in your lungs trying to claw its way out.

he looked up.

his eyes met yours.

and your whole world stopped.

his lips parted, like he wasn’t sure you were real.

like he’d imagined this moment too many times, and now that it was happening, he was scared to believe it.

“hey, y/n,” he said, voice low, soft.

barely a whisper. barely air.

your throat closed up.

you should’ve had something prepared. something biting, something powerful, something that would make him feel everything you’d felt, betrayal, grief, confusion. but all of it collapsed in on itself the second he looked at you like that. like you were everything.

you swallowed.

“satoru... can we? talk?” you whispered.

his eyes burned.

“anytime,” he said. “always.”

he stood, slow, like he didn’t want to spook you. like one wrong move might send you running again. he gave you space. didn’t step too close. didn’t reach for you, even though you could see the tremor in his hands, he wanted to.

he just didn’t think he was allowed.

you looked around. the common room was empty, the TV still glowing with some paused menu screen. papers were scattered on the table. a water bottle. someone’s hoodie.

so normal. so stupidly normal.

your gaze snapped back to him.

his face looked worse up close. the bruise on his cheek was fading yellow now, and there was a scratch just beneath his jaw that looked like it hadn’t healed right.

he didn’t say anything. just watched you, waiting.

you lifted the letter. “i read it.”

he nodded once, slow. “okay.”

you searched for words.

but your chest was full of thunder and broken glass, and everything that wanted to come out was a sob or a scream.

“was it true?” you asked, finally.

his eyes didn’t leave yours. “every word.”

you clutched the paper tighter.

“you bet on me,” you said. “you made me into some stupid game.”

his breath caught.

“i didn’t know you then,” he said. “i didn’t—i didn’t even want to be part of that shit. i just—i was trying to keep things easy. and then you walked into my life and everything stopped being easy.”

you blinked hard, trying to hold back the tears building behind your eyes. “so you just… forgot to tell me?”

he flinched like you’d slapped him.

“i was scared,” he admitted, voice breaking. “i didn’t want to lose you. i thought if i never brought it up, if i just showed you how much i cared, then maybe it wouldn’t matter.”

“but it does matter,” you said, finally letting your voice crack. “it matters so much, satoru. i trusted you. you were one of the only people i could actually talk to without getting choked up and nervous..."

he nodded. once. hard.

“i know.”

“i let you in. i—I believed you when you said you loved me.”

“i meant it,” he said, desperate. “i still mean it. i love you. i didn’t even know it was love until it was too late and i was already in too deep and—”

you stepped forward. “you don’t get to say that just to fix it.”

he stopped.

you were close enough to touch now. your fingers ached to reach for him, but your heart couldn’t move.

not yet.

“you don’t get to write me a beautiful letter and stand here and wait and think that’s enough.”

he swallowed, throat bobbing.

“it’s not enough,” he said. “i know that.”

you looked at him, really looked at him.

the boy with the cocky grin and stupidly beautiful eyes. the boy who wore his heart like armor until he ripped it open for you. the boy who bled for you. fought for you. lied to protect a truth he didn’t know how to tell.

“i thought you were different,” you whispered.

“i am,” he said. “because of you.”

you shook your head, blinking back tears. “you hurt me.”

he stepped forward this time. just one pace. close, but not too close.

“then let me fix it.”

your bottom lip trembled.

he reached out, slow, trembling, and took your hand, folding it gently into his.

“please,” he said. “i know i don’t deserve a second chance. i know i fucked this up. but if there’s even one part of you that still believes in what we had—”

“have,” you said quietly. “not had.”

his breath caught.

your voice was shaking. “i don’t want to stop feeling this. i don’t want to pretend you don’t mean something to me. i just, I need to know it’s real. that i wasn’t some project. some stupid fucking conquest for your frat friends to laugh at.”

he stepped in.

this time you let him.

his hands cupped your face so gently it almost undid you his soft fingers cascading over your delicate cheeks.

“you are everything to me,” he whispered, forehead leaning into yours. “this isn’t a game. it never was. not after i met you, sweetheart.”

your breath hitched.

“you made me want to be better,” he said. “and i know that’s such a tired fucking line, but it’s true. you... you saw something in me no one else ever tried to. and i want to spend the rest of my life earning that.”

you closed your eyes.

and the tears slipped out anyway.

he kissed them away, feather-light, mouth trembling against your cheek.

“i’m sorry,” he breathed. “for the bet. for the silence. for letting someone like sukuna get in your head. i should’ve protected you better. told you sooner. i should’ve told the world you were mine and never let them question it.”

“i’m not yours,” you whispered.

he froze.

but you lifted your hand and pressed it to his chest.

“not yet,” you said. “but i want to be.”

his breath left him like he’d been shot.

and then he kissed you.

not with hunger, not with fire—but with devotion.

soft and slow, like a promise being made with lips instead of words.

you kissed him back, fingers curling into his hoodie, anchoring yourself in the only thing that felt steady.

him.

when you broke apart, he pressed his forehead to yours again, both of you breathing like you’d just run a marathon through hell.

“so,” you said, voice wobbling, “this is the part where you ask me to be your girlfriend y'know..."

he laughed, breathless, eyes wet. “fuck, no. i’m way past that.”

your brows rose as you looked up at him through your pretty lashes.

“i’m asking you to let me start over,” he said. “properly. no bets. no lies. just… me. loving you. no matter how long it takes for you to trust me again.”

you stared at him for a long moment.

then: “okay.”

his breath caught.

“okay?”

“yeah,” you said, smiling, watery but real. “okay. one slow start.”

he laughed again, and it broke open something beautiful in your chest.

and when he hugged you, arms around your waist, your face buried in his neck, you held on like maybe, just maybe, this time love was something worth holding onto.

later that night, you sat curled into him on his bed, still in your hoodie and sweats, with a bag of chips between you and the Lion King playing very quietly in the back.

he had one arm around you, the other lazily twirling your hair.

“i was going to show up outside your dorm like a rom-com loser,” he mumbled.

“you kinda are a rom-com loser,” you teased, leaning into him.

he grinned, that stupid, perfect, heart-cracking grin. “yeah, but i’m your rom-com loser now.”

you rolled your eyes, but didn’t deny it.

because yeah.

he was.

your eyes softened as you curbed into his touch.

"i missed you, toru."

he let out a soft laugh. "toru, huh? only suguru calls me that. it's cute coming from your pretty little mouth."

you giggled and kissed his cheek.

'god, this is bliss.' he thought.

he finnaly had you. all to himself. no stupid bet hanging over his head, no sukuna swimming around in the shadows waiting to pounce, and no expectations.

just you, and him.

you don’t know when the laughter fades.

you’re still curled into him, your head resting on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. the ice cream’s melted, the movie’s long since ended, but neither of you moved, not really. just soft touches, occasional whispers 'i love you', the silence warm instead of heavy.

his fingers trace lazy shapes against your back.

your hand plays with the hem of his shirt.

and somewhere between a breath and a heartbeat, everything shifts.

his touch lingers a second longer. your fingers slip beneath the fabric, barely there, but enough to make his breath catch.

he tilts his head, just enough to look down at you.

you meet his gaze.

and the air between you thickens.

your lips part, but you don’t say anything. don’t need to. not when his eyes are already dropping to your mouth, like he’s waiting for permission.

you give it without a word.

his kiss this time is different.

not soft. not slow.

hungry.

like the dam finally cracked and all the restraint he’s been holding back with both hands floods loose.

your hands slip up his shirt, palms skating over warm skin and muscle, and he groans against your mouth, low and wrecked, like he’s been dreaming of this.

he pulls back, just enough to search your face.

“are you sure?”

your heart stutters.

you nod. “i want you, toru.”

his expression twists, like that means more to him than it should.

“you have me,” he says, voice rough, reverent. “every part.”

he kisses you again, and this time he lays you back, gentle but firm, like he’s terrified you’ll vanish if he isn’t careful.

and when his mouth trails down your neck, hands slipping beneath the hem of your hoodie, he looks up one last time,

waiting.

you nod again.

this time, he doesn’t stop.

his nips became focused, pulling adorably pornographic moans from your sweet mouth, groaning himself at the sounds.

he made his way down your neck and whispered the softest, sweetest words you'd ever heard during intimate moments like these.

'god, y/n you're perfect sweet heart...' 'you look so pretty baby girl.' 'so sweet for me'

he gently lifted up your hoodie, removing your clothes like he was worshipping a goddess. he feathered his fingers over your skin, taking in your half naked body with hungry yet appreciating eyes. you stared at him as if you were waiting for him to hurry up and tear your underwear and bra off, but he didn't. he traced his fingers up and down your sides.

"are you comfortable taking these off baby? we can leave them on if it makes you feel better."

your eyes almost welled over with tears. almost.

because it wasn’t the question itself, it was the way he asked it. like it mattered. like you mattered. like your comfort was just as important as his desire.

you nodded slowly, shyly, a little embarrassed by how much that question meant to you.

“yeah,” you whispered, barely audible. “i want you to see all of me.”

his eyes searched yours for a beat longer, just to be sure. then he leaned down and kissed your temple so gently it made your chest ache.

“thank you,” he murmured, brushing your hair back. “for trusting me.”

you couldn’t look at him when you slid your underwear off. not at first. heat burned at the tips of your ears, your throat going tight as you lay back against the pillows, arms twitching with the instinct to cover yourself.

but then you felt his hand slip into yours.

“hey,” he said softly, coaxing your gaze back to his. “you don’t have to hide. you’re… god, you’re beautiful.”

you swallowed hard. the raw way he looked at you made you feel fragile, but not in a bad way. in a held way. like he wasn’t going to break you. like he’d never even try.

“it’s okay,” he added, brushing the backs of his fingers along your cheek. “i know it’s different. i know he—” his jaw twitched, but he caught himself. “you don’t have to be scared of being touched anymore. not like that.

you blinked up at him, breathing shaky.

“it wasn’t always rough with him,” you whispered before you could stop yourself. “at first, he made me feel wanted. and then… he started pulling away. touching me when i didn’t want it. saying it was my fault if i wasn’t in the mood.”

gojo’s expression darkened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“he said i was cold,” you added, eyes fluttering shut. “and selfish. that if i really cared, i’d let him—” your voice cracked. “so i started pretending to want it. just to make him happy.”

you waited for disgust. for pity. for him to recoil.

but all you got was a fierce, aching tenderness.

he kissed the center of your chest, right over your heartbeat, and stayed there for a long moment.

“you never deserved that,” he said finally, voice thick with emotion. “none of it. you weren’t selfish, you were scared. and he used that. twisted it.”

his hands cupped your sides, warm and steady.

“i’m not him, y/n. and this isn’t about proving anything. it’s just us. just this moment. and if you ever want to stop—if you even flinch—i’ll hold you and we’ll watch cartoons instead. deal?”

you laughed, choked and watery, but a real laugh all the same.

“deal,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his messy white hair.

he kissed you again, slow and sweet and grounding.

and as his lips moved back down your body, there was no rush. no pressure. just love, in every brush of his fingertips, in every kiss he pressed to your bare skin, in every gentle whisper that reminded you this time was different.

because this time, you were safe.

this time, you were wanted, not as an obligation, or a trophy, or a conquest.

but as you.

and god, gojo satoru was going to make sure you never forgot it.

he too took off his clothes, peeling back his shirt along with his sweat pants. your eyes blew out at just how gorgeous he was. he was smooth, pale, clean. like his body was sculpted up in the heavens by an old greek-man. he was a stark difference to sukuna. he was leaner, prettier. no tattoos to hide a fragile ego behind, no flashy clothing. just him, and the delicate silver chain he always wore that seemed to perfectly reflect his persona.

you found yourself running your hand over his chest. he smiled and cupped your cheek. with the both of you now naked, satoru had you pulled right against his body as he kissed every naked inch. he made his way down to your adorably perky nipple, taking one into his mouth, and rolling it on his tounge, earning a long drawn out whine from you. he could feel his cock ache with each little moan, every little twitch of your body.

he trained his tongue down your torso slowly until he was down by your heat. he looked up at you, smiling softly as he slowly prayed your legs open, holding your lower calf and kissing the inside of your ankle.

'you're perfect.'

you were starting to get embarrassed at how sensual he was being, but god did it feel good. you couldn't help the groan that escaped your mouth when he started massaging the plush skin of your bare thigh, his eyes locked on your dripping pussy.

"awhh baby, you're so wet for me. didn't know something as cute as you could get so messy." he teased, moving his hands higher and higher up your thighs until his long finger tips were brushing over the skin of your labia. his fingers were like electricity. he hadn't even gotten to the sweet part yet but you could feel a tight coil tightening in your stomach. he was going tantalisingly slow, licking his lips as he ran his fingers over everywhere but your clit.

you looked up at him with shy eyes, like you wanted, needed to ask him to keep going.

he just smirked, looking down at you with eyes full of a bubbly kind of lust, he was high on the moment.

"what is it baby girl? you need me to do something?"

you covered your mouth out of habit, nodding shyly as you fought the urge to just grab his hand and place the pads of his fingers over your clit yourself.

''oh yeah? what is it sweetheart? you seem a bit hot and bothered. want me to touch... here?" as soon as the words left his mouth his middle finger pressed down hard on your clit, finally letting you release the choked up moan you were holding in. he smirked even wider as he started rolling the sensitive bud under his finger. "you look so fucking cute... squirming around just from a little pressure? wonder what you'll do when i actually slam my cock into this pretty little hole..."

you almost choked at how vulgar he suddenly got, nothing like the soft satoru you were used to but god, it was hot. all sense of slowness disappeared after that moment, and satoru, without warning, slammed two of his long thick fingered up into your tight little hole.

"f-fuck! t-toru oh my-"

you couldn't finnish, strangled moans was all that came out of your mouth as he pumped his fingers in and out with precision and skill. "gonna make you feel so good honey. so fucking good."

he curled his fingers, hitting that spongy spot deep inside your cunt making you gasp and grab at his navy bed sheets. he moved his head down and begun to suck on your clit with his long tongue rolling it backwards and forth. you were shaking from the pleasure, right coils about to burst inside your stomach were becoming harder to ignore as you moaned louder and louder, the shy girl everyone knew was long gone as your silky voice became wracked with pretty moans. satoru lied into your pussy as he felt you start to get closer and closer, he missed your clit and picked up the pace with his fingers, making you groan and cry out. 'toru- you're hah amazing... holy shit you're so- fuck- good!"

his eyes rolled back at the sound of your voice, slamming his fingers deeper inside, finger fucking you so good. "s-shit toru! i'm gonna- i'm gonna!"

he didn't let you finnish, he sucked harder on your clit and fucked his fingers impossibly deeper, finally, you came undone all over his chin.

he looked very pleased, still staring at your cunt with heart eyes.

he was quick to lap up every drop, sucking your entrance with a satisfied groan.

"shit- y/n... your pussy is so perfect baby. you're so fucking perfect. need to fuck you honey- so bad."

as you caught your breath, body slightly shaking beneath him, you watched as he sat up, pulling off his boxers to reveal the most perfect cock you had ever seen... it was long, with a red angry tip already covered in translucent pre. he smiled as he watched you stare with wide eyes.

"think you can handle it sweet thing? if it's too much we can always-"

"no! no. i want you toru. i want you so bad, please fuck me."

the look of disbelief on satoru's face was priceless. never in a million years did he expect such a blunt statement from the shy girl he grew to knew, but holy fuck, was his cock 10x harder now.

"as you wish, precious."

he took his position back inbetween your legs, hovering over you. he placed one hand beside your head, the other on his aching cock.

"i'll go slow baby. just relax for me sweet girl, i'll make you feel so good."

he was honest, he slipped the tip in slowly, you let out small moans as it stretches you out, he kissed your temple as he whispered reassurance in your ear.

'you can take it baby.' 'you can do it y/n'

he slid the rest of his length in, bottoming out with a deep groan.

"so fucking tight."

you could only manage hiss through clenched teeth, you felt so deliciously full. he looked into your eyes for permission to move, and the look of pure lust he got in return was all he needed before he started to slowing thrust on and out of your perfectly tight heat.

your hands gripped the sheets beneath you as he pushed his hips down further and further into you, pinning you down in a mating press. you could form no words as he picked up his pace, the only noise coming from your mouth was strings of moans, 'nnnghh- toru!' 'f-fuck- so good- i-'

he held your hips as he pounded deeper and deeper, holding you still as he abused your g-spot. your velvety walls clenched around his long cock, making him grunt with each thrust. "holy fucking shit y/n hah, so good for me, so fucking good for me baby. holy fuckkk you're so goddamn tight- hah!."

he slammed into you at a feverish pace, you could feel your world dizzying as his movements fucked into you in all the right places. he was so dominant, yet so gentle. his pace was controlled, his hands didn't grip you crushingly, and he peppered small kisses over your forehead as he thrusted in and out. it was perfect.

"baby- fuck- you're so pretty like this honey. so cute looking so fucked out for me- hah-"

you bit your lip as you tried to respond, but your climax was coming too quick, you couldn't even think. a hand flew to his shoulder as you squeezed tightly. satoru could feel your walls closing in harder on his cock, and he smiled knowing you were close. he rutted his hips deeper, faster, chasing your high like it was the only thing that mattered, because to him? it did. your pleasure was the only thing concerning him.

he looked into your eyes and saw them dilate, you were right on the edge.

"cmon baby. you can do it sweetheart- cum for me- cum for toru baby. you can do it-"

his words sent a shiver down your spine as you let out a loud and very sexy moan, your high crashing over you like a tidal wave. satorus came not long after, he pulled out quickly and stroked his length, coming undone onto your lower belly.

you were too fucked out to notice, you had just revived the best dicking down of your damn life.

before he had a chance to calm down, satoru was already grabbing for wet wipe beside his bed to clean you up. he wiped the cum off of your body and kissed your forehead softly.

"sorry for not cumming in a tissue baby, i just-"

"shh toru. it's fine, it's fine, i'm on birth control you could of just finished inside."

you smiled up at him as his sorrowful expression faded. he chukled and kissed your cheek. "i'll keep that in mind sweetheart."

he rushed off to grab a hot cloth and came back, tenderly washing off your body as he whispered sweet words into your ear.

'you were so perfect baby.' 'that was so perfect.'

your head was tucked under his chin, your body still humming from the moment you’d just shared. the room was dim, washed in gold from the lamp on his desk. the covers were tangled around your legs, your skin still warm where his hands had touched you like you were something breakable. something precious.

you were quiet, heart pounding against his ribs like it was trying to break free, like it didn’t quite believe it was safe yet.

gojo’s fingers traced idle patterns along your back, slow and feather-light, like he didn’t want to disturb the silence but still needed to be connected to you somehow. his other hand was curled around yours where it rested between your chests, your fingers interlocked like the spaces between them had been made just for this.

“you okay?” he asked softly, breath warm against your hair.

you nodded.

then, after a moment, you whispered, “i didn’t know it could be like that.”

his hand paused, then resumed its path over your skin. “like what?”

“gentle.”

your voice was so small, so fragile, he almost missed it.

gojo’s chest rose and fell in a slow, steady breath. “was it too much?”

“no,” you said quickly. “no, it was… it was perfect.”

you pressed your face into his chest, ashamed of the tears building in your eyes. you weren’t supposed to be crying right now, not after something like that. but you couldn’t help it. your body was still trying to reconcile softness with safety. intimacy with kindness.

his arms tightened around you instantly.

“talk to me,” he murmured.

you hesitated. “with sukuna… it was never like this.”

gojo didn’t speak, just waited, patient and still.

“it was always rough. like he didn’t care if it hurt. like he wanted it to.” you swallowed hard. “he used to tell me i was lucky he even wanted me. like i should be grateful.”

gojo’s jaw clenched under your cheek, but his touch never changed. he didn’t pull away. didn’t interrupt.

“he didn’t see me,” you whispered. “not really. not like you do.”

gojo kissed the top of your head, long and slow. “i see you,” he said quietly. “i see everything. and i want all of it.”

your throat tightened.

“you’re not something to be tolerated, or controlled, or used,” he said. “you’re not here to make someone feel bigger by making yourself smaller. not anymore. not with me.”

you clutched his hand a little tighter.

“you don’t have to thank me for being kind to you,” he added after a moment. “that should’ve been your bare minimum. and i hate that it wasn’t.”

his voice cracked at the edges, like he was holding something in.

you looked up slowly.

his eyes were red-rimmed, glassy with unshed tears. “i hate that he made you feel like you were hard to love.”

your chest broke open.

“you’re not,” he said. “you’re easy to love. so easy, i don’t even know when it happened. it just… did.”

your lip trembled. “i was so scared to want this. to want you.”

“i know,” he said softly. “but you’re safe now. i promise.”

he kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then the tip of your nose—each one slower than the last, like he was memorizing you piece by piece.

“you can be quiet,” he murmured. “you can be shy. you can be soft, and unsure, and afraid. i’ll still be here.”

you let the tears fall then. not because you were broken, but because you were healing. and healing always hurt a little.

he wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs, then pulled you even closer, if that was possible.

“do you want to talk about him?” gojo asked gently. “or anything else?”

you were quiet for a long time. then, your voice barely audible:

“there was this one night… i said i was too tired. it was finals week and i hadn’t slept in two days. i could barely keep my eyes open, and he just... he laughed. said, ‘too tired? who the hell do you think you are?’ and then he grabbed my arm.”

gojo didn’t speak, didn’t even breathe too loud.

“he didn’t hit me,” you said quickly. “not that night. but he left bruises on my wrist from how tight he held me. and after… he made me apologize. said i was being dramatic. that i needed to learn my place.”

a sound tore from gojo’s throat then, low and wrecked.

your breath hitched, embarrassed suddenly, but he leaned in, touched his forehead to yours.

“you never had to earn love,” he said fiercely. “and you never deserved that. not ever.”

you looked at him, eyes shimmering.

“you’re not dramatic. you’re not wrong for needing rest. or comfort. or boundaries.” he touched your hand where it rested on his chest. “you don’t ever have to explain why something hurt. if it hurt, that’s enough. that’s valid.”

your lips parted, stunned by how simple he made it sound. how obvious.

“i’m so sorry you went through that,” he whispered. “but you’re not alone anymore.”

you nodded, voice thick. “i know.”

“you can tell me every memory, every scar. i’ll hold them all.”

you curled in tighter to him, face pressed to the curve of his neck. “i think that was the worst part. not the bruises, not the yelling. it was how small he made me feel. like i was disposable.”

gojo’s voice was hoarse. “you’re the most irreplaceable thing in my life.”

you blinked up at him, heart cracking wide open.

“i love you,” he whispered. “so much it hurts.”

your breath caught.

“but i’ll wait until you’re ready to say it back. no pressure. no expectations.”

you squeezed his hand.

and for the first time in a long time, you believed it, fully, wholly, in your bones.

you were safe.

you were seen.

you were loved.

and for the first time, you weren’t afraid to be soft.

"i love you too, satoru. so much."