Berrypip

He’d never been. At least since he’d met and lost Suguru. Since he’d decided relationships  weren’t really his thing. No one would be able to match up to The Satoru Gojo anyways. There wasn't anyone as strong nor anyone as pretty as him.

Being the strongest sorcerer alive of his generation came with many perks, one of which included mentoring and training the new generation of sorcerers that happened to fall into his classroom. He held a strong passion for shaping and creating those with the talent to be the best they could be.

That was his primary focus—his main goal in life. He hoped that’s how it would be til he grew old and withered away. Restructuring the corrupt system, creating a better world in a way that felt significant.

And that’s all he thought about.

Until he heard a new that a new instructor was starting in the upcoming year. He’d been hesitant when he heard that she was around his age. A semi-first grade that held little presence in jujutsu society. She’d have to have a somewhat decent cursed technique to be that high ranked with no backing. Not to mention that it was relatively difficult to even exist in the sorcerer world and have that little known about you. He hadn’t heard much about the woman that was set to arrive on campus.

He’d pestered principal Yaga about it dozens of times, hoping to gain some insight as to what kind of personality you’d had.

Would there be another spineless nobody teaching the new generation, or would you actually be good at your job? He’d got very little information about your technique—the description, vague at best. You hadn’t come from a clan. And you hadn’t been active for long. Soon enough his interest fizzled out and he’d forgotten all about it, far more absorbed on his busy schedule. Those three hours of sleep were a real killer.

And the day had finally arrived. Your first day on campus. You’d been expected to settle in quickly, and had been introduced to a few other teachers. Most of them had been far older than you, yet they seemed polite, all the same.

You toured the campus, meeting the other instructors alongside your new principal. You’d heard principal Yaga groan to some of the other teachers about some “fool” named “Gojo”. You quickly disregarded it, not asking who he was talking about. He didn’t seem in the mood to talk about it, anyways. You’d made what you felt was a pleasant enough impression on those you’d be working with. Then you set to work on arranging the apartment you’d moved into, just a few block from campus. 

The move had been easy for you considering what little you’d brought along. You assumed you’d buy whatever you needed here anyway. 

You created what you thought was a solid lesson plan (after being given an outline from principal Yaga on what was expected) and were excited to meet your new students. You weren’t sure what you expected, but you were thrilled to be given so much free rein on your teaching methods.

You started work a day after you’d gotten in, meeting your students—four second years. After your first week with them, you were able to establish baselines with each of them and point them on ways to improve. The second years seemed to love having you, constantly raving about you, and the gentle yet firm hand you gave in your lessons.

The other instructors seemed to be warming up to you, conversing each time you saw them. Which could only mean things were going right.

Your students took on missions—some of which you accompanied them on, although you were hesitant to take too many yourself. The stress of having no free time weighed on you, yet you drew a firm line on which missions you’d wanted to take. Much to the Elders displeasure.

You did have several meetings with your principal and several with the board, over your progress. Everything seemed to be going well. Yet with these meetings you’d always hear about different sorcerers. Picking up tid bits of information-who they thought could take what assignment- who was overseas at the moment. It was fascinating that jujutsu society was so big, yet so small. They placed heavy emphasis on bloodlines and purity always seeming to find different clans to suggest arranged marriages for. You’d had yet to meet everyone, but you felt like you’d learned so much just from the gossip alone. It’s not something you were unfamiliar with coming from a smaller village. Everyone knew everyone there too. It was just…new.

They often complained a lot about the lack of capable sorcerers. Which automatically lead to you hearing that name again. Gojo. Not one for prying, staying in your own lane-you didn’t ask. But, you found that enough people spoke of him-you wouldn’t have needed to ask anyways.

“That idiot, Satoru Gojo.”

“The arrogant bastard, Satoru Gojo.”

“That cocky, Satoru Gojo.”

That was how everyone spoke of him, always describing him so negatively. Yet more often than not, you’d hear that followed up with

“The strongest. Satoru Gojo.”

“Untouchable, that Satoru Gojo.”

The fear and admiration, heavy in their voices. You couldn’t help the way you’d automatically tune into the conversations that captured his name.

Satoru had been doing back to back missions for the past few weeks. He’d completely forgotten about the little semi-first grade teacher that had arrived while he was gone.

That was until two of his students were chatting so energetically about you.

He couldn’t help but overhear how they gushed, talking about how you were so sweet, and how you looked so young for a teacher. His students rarely spoke so highly of the other teachers on campus, so you could consider his curiosity peeked.  Satoru was amazed at how long they kept the conversation going, his precious students seeming to be fixated on everything they loved about you. But it was just gossip at the end of the day. He’d pretended to ignore the conversation, before deciding he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Now who are you on about?” he said, a soft playful note in his voice. The two students stared at him dumbfounded. “You mean you haven’t met the new instructor?” One said, sharing a glance with the other, as they giggled. “She’s been here for nearly a month.”

And that was that. His students seemed to like you, so he’d just have to see for himself. Straightening up, he’d decided he wanted to take a walk around the campus. Hearding his students along, hoping to stumble into you. And stumble he did. Across the training yard, he’d spotted you. He pulled his blindfold back and off. Eyes narrowing in on you. The only foreign thing on the campus grounds. He felt his heart leap into his throat. You were so…pretty. Unnaturally so. Your cursed energy so…

His students ran over to your group, immediately lighting up at the prospect of new training partners.

And he let them. Your eyes to glanced over to him, and if his legs hadn’t been locked, he was sure they might’ve buckled. Putting on his usual playful smile he trailed along after them. Slowly, confidently…as confident as he could muster.

“You must be the new instructor! I’m sure you heard all about me.” He joked, his mouth running faster than he could think. He made sure to keep his tone light, despite the weight he felt in the center of his chest. 

He did want to test the waters with you. You must be some sort of seductress with the way you won over his students. And with how pretty you were. But before he could formally introduce himself, you opened those plush, soft looking lips of yours, gracing him with the most melodic voice to hit his ears. Easily stopping him in his tracks. A sirens call really-

“Actually, yes.” You laugh, a playful lilt in your voice. The sound stalling his thoughts. “You must be The Satoru Gojo I’ve been hearing about.” Your voice easily reciprocated his playfulness and he wasn’t sure he could handle it. He was positive now. You must be a seductress.

How you guessed his identity, you couldn’t say entirely.

You’d heard a thing or two from those around you about the man, but—no. You’d never seen him, let alone met him. You’d definitely remember if you had. The stark white hair and brilliant blue eyes pinning you down easily. Not to mention his height and lax stance. He exuded confidence, and you were sure that underneath his teacher attire he was built. And that wasn’t even mentioning his face. Definitely a model. And with the obvious, overly saturating cursed energy that seemed to exude from him at any given moment, it may have been the dead giveaway.

They were right.

Strongest.

…

…But he seemed nice.

Your confident answer seemed to take him aback as he readjusted his stance, shifting his weight to his other leg. His hands rest in his pockets. You felt a little self conscious of his stare, feeling embarrassed of your sureness. It was silent for a few moments before you let out another small laugh. 

“Sorry, I’d really just heard around about you. Promise I’m not some kind of stalker.” Jesus. Smooth. Real smooth. Thankfully, he bounced back, reciprocating your laugh with his own.

He sounded so nice.

“And what did you hear? About how amazing and handsome I am?”

After meeting Gojo, he began popping up more frequently. Often with his students following him, and often under the guise of collaborating classes. Not that your students seemed to mind.  You’d spotted him more than a handful of times outside of your classes, and you were surprised to first see him blindfolded. You had asked him-only once, why he wore it around. But he’d easily laughed it off, saying it was for his cursed technique. But you couldn’t help but notice he’d typically take it off when he spoke with you. 

Your little chats with him were always nice and friendly. You were always open to making new friends, and Gojo seemed open to the idea of having you as his friend. You really didn’t understand what everyone’s issue was with him. He was playful, sometimes arrogant, but always came off as kind and easygoing. He was passionate about his role as a teacher, and he loved his students like his own children. It was hard not to like him. And his students seemed to love him back, often laughing and joking with him.

Satoru couldn’t help but place himself in more and more positions to meet with you. He couldn’t tell why his own body was betraying him, but he would describe it as something akin to his favorite Kikufuku.

Addicting and easily accessible.

You were always around and you never shied away from his “friendly” gestures. He’d quickly learned just how sweet you were.

He knew what most thought of him—not that he really cared, so he’d been surprised at how easily you warmed up to him, despite his humor. His fellow teachers seemed to regard him with contempt a majority of the time, calling him laid back and arrogant. And sure-he’d been laying his charm on thick with you. But even with his more offhanded comments, you’d just laugh along.

And-fuck. He loved hearing your laugh. His heart had never raced so hard in his life, and he couldn’t seem to cool down. His palms were always sweating when he came into proximity of you. Always feeling the need to lay his eyes on you. Always needed to see you in your full self. He’d felt so giddy when he saw you.  This was something he also wasn’t familiar with. He could compare his feelings to an exhilarating fight. The excitement was always genuine.

He’d learned your favorite snacks and drinks, often picking them up for you after his missions. He’d memorized your schedule, knowing just where to find you when he’d get back into town. And with how nice you were, you’d never turned him away or said no.

Even if he came by your apartment while you were cooking dinner. Never questioning how he figured out your address in the first place. Although the small tremble of your hands showed him you were nervous. He’d never done something so out of pocket before, yet you seemed to be his exception. You still let him through the front door. Little questions asked. Were you this nice with everyone?

He’d seen plenty of women. He knew he was handsome, that was obvious to anyone with eyes. But he hadn’t ever had a serious relationship, aside from Suguru. He knew the tell-tale look in a woman’s eyes when he’d successfully swooned them. But he just couldn’t tell with you.

Sure, you flustered occasionally, but he found himself analyzing your every reaction. Were you being friendly, or were you flirting back? The flustering always seemed rational—more surprised than true attraction. He’d pick apart your expressions. More than he’d done for anyone else. His mind wouldn’t give him peace over this. He over analyzed anything you gave him.

Yet all of your reactions were tame compared to the wolfish women he’d occasionally meet up with. You just didn’t respond to him the same way, making it harder to gauge your true feelings. You weren’t like those women.

He thought you were too nice. You listened to him, asking him questions about himself. About what he enjoyed. You showed an interest in knowing him, for him. Which was something only Suguru had ever done.

Students, colleagues, you had an open door, never turning away those who came to you for help. But what really kept him by your side- what he really admired was your backbone. Your ability to say no to the higher ups, without fear of repercussions. The playful banter you exchanged with him. The way you brought back sweets for him when you’d happened to pass by a dessert shop. The much more meaningful conversations he sometimes had with you. Your personality overall, was intoxicating. Your laughter, infectious. You made such a great friend, and, selfishly, he wanted to keep you all to himself.

He felt a little anxious at how kind you were. At how you always accepted the people around you, made them feel comfortable. You made friends easily. He knew how evil people could be. How people took advantage of other’s kindness.

And that made him stick closer to you. 

Overtime, the bond you formed with the strongest sorcerer was thicker than even you realized.

Every evening spent hanging out at your apartment, was a memory ingrained into his very being. Your personality, your vibes were the very definition of comfort and warmth to him. His own personal heaven. A place he didn’t want to outgrow. He’d become so accustomed to it. You’d formed your own inside jokes, memorizing his preferences for his visits. He loved that you kept his favorite snacks around your house. Loved that you laid out an extra dinner plate for when he came over. Loved that you kept his favorite movies on your shelf. Loved that you stopped asking if he was coming over that night-you’d assume he was already on his way.

Loved that you thought about him.

Every kind action had been taken to heart, and he was more and more willing to cave to any request you had. Not that you had any outside of picking up a souvenir or a particular ingredient for that nights food dish. He’d make any sacrifice to ensure your complete safety and happiness. And when he fully understood his fixation, it was too late. He’d never actually realized just how isolated he’d been. With you, he no longer recognized the word alone.

Because now he had you.

You’d been “friends” with Satoru Gojo for over a year now. Satoru would stop by your home after his missions, every time. Without fail. This was a tradition he’d developed early on when he realized you didn’t mind.

And he grew bolder with each passing day.

You’d often find him sitting in your living room after you’d just woken up. No text message and no knocking. His smile ever present and his blindfold always dangling from some part of his body. You still never got a good explanation for why he wore it. Nor a good explanation on how he got in, in the first place. At this point it felt like you were roommates.

This particular morning came after an extended mission of his. He’d been texting you like crazy—though that wasn’t new. He’d grown increasingly clingy over the year since you'd known him. Not that you minded, you figured with his poor reputation he’d be feeling a bit lonely. Plus it was so him. So Satoru Gojo to text the way he did. Over the top and in your face. But that week had been difficult for you. You’d been pretty absent in your messages.

“G’morning” you mumble out still exhausted. The fact that he was here so early in the morning no longer surprising you. You’d long since given up scolding him for foregoing any personal boundaries you’d set. They were flimsy at best—you’d admit. You couldn’t stay mad at a face like that. Especially not when he used his puppy eyes—“Ride and shine, sleepy head.” His voice sung out, teasing and playful. “Haven’t heard from you in forever!”-it’d been two days at most. You make your way to settle on the couch next to him, leaning your head back. 

“Where’s my souvenir?” You joked, eyes still droopy with sleep-not noticing how his gaze never left you. Trailing your every move, eyeing your bare neck. Why’d you have to wear such low cut shirts? “Ah you’ve gotten so spoiled. No hug first?” He pouted. 

You bristled at his comment. You were still a bit shy around him, with hugs still being somewhat new to your friendship. Something he’d been pushing for ever since he saw you hug one of your childhood friends that had come to visit.

You’d initially said no—that it was too awkward to hug him I mean cmon he is pretty attractive you could barely look at him without flushing a little bit. This lead to him pouting for over an hour. His reasoning at the time, being that the two of you were “best” friends. He’d practically lived at your apartment, and you knew everything about each other. Therefore, it didn’t make sense for you to hug someone you consider a “friend” but not him.

You’d been surprised-though you’re not sure why, about his insistence. Maybe it’s the fact that he had actually asked you, instead of just doing it. You remember placating him by finally agreeing that—yes. He was, in fact, your “best” friend. And it did make sense to hug on occasion. It was all said in good fun, but Satoru seemed to take it very seriously. You respected it, though.

But now he was always hassling you for a hug when you’d meet up. And pushing you to drop all formalities when speaking with him. You still had that bad habit of calling him “Gojo”. Using formal speech. It felt familiar, and you copied what most everyone did, unconsciously. You’d heard the name “Gojo” more often than you heard “Satoru”, so it was natural that you’d just call him like everyone else would.

But this didn’t stop him from using your first name. And he made damn sure to put it to good use. Always calling out to you, singing your name like it was the only song he knew. You couldn’t help the butterflies when you heard your name slip from his lips. But the hugs. The all consuming hugs that he wrapped you in. His warmth, and the feel of his muscles contracting around you. The way he’d lean into you, inhaling. Sighing contentedly. The hugs felt a little too…intimate. Still sleepy, “Gojo-“ “Satoru” a gentle reminder, “I’m still tired, yeah? Lemme wake up first.” You felt him pull at your arm, too tired to protest as he laid your head on his lap. You let out a small sigh at his touchiness—before relaxing in, knowing you wouldn’t win against this one. You hadn’t been sleeping well for days. You were sure the dark circles were prominent. And maybe you hadn’t been eating as much as before-maybe a few pounds lighter. You’ve just been so stressed.

You felt him run his fingers through your hair gently, untangling a piece here or there before repeating his soothing gesture. It felt so nice. He felt so nice. You’re not sure when you’d fallen back asleep, but when you woke up, your head was still on his lap. His fingers still tangled in your hair. Groaning you sat up slowly, looking up to find his eyes already on you. “How long-“

“Have you been eating enough?” His tone was even and measured, lacking his playful edge, leaving you feeling slightly off balance and disoriented. Especially having just woken up, “Wha-“ “You look like you haven’t been sleeping, either. What’s been keeping you up?”

It wasn’t often that you saw this side of him, his playful demeanor on the back burner. His tone damn near accusatory. You stared for a moment before trying to reassure him—of what?—you don’t know, “Gojo-“ “Satoru” the gentleness gone,

“…Satoru… I’m fine, I’ve just been picking up a few…side missions.” You mumble out the last few words. He relaxed slightly at your words, only slightly- “Why?” The one worded response, quick, assessing. For what? You really didn’t know. You look away not able to keep eye contact. His gaze burned. What answer was he looking for? And why did he seem so irritated?

“Just needed some extra cash, and—well they’ve been wanting me to pick up some extra missions—“when hadn’t they?

“Nah.” Your eyes shot back to his, not entirely sure the response even came from him. “You don’t need to pick up extra missions, don’t worry about the higher ups.” His voice firm, but not so mean, “I’ll deal with them. So cut back on your hours.”

His words barely registered. “Satoru, I can’t just cancel-“

“Maybe not, but I can. Who would I be if I couldn’t help out my best friend.” Words growing more steely by the second, “And when you’re losing sleep over it? When you aren’t eating—No. Absolutely not.”

You stare at him, not knowing how to reply. His words somewhat childish. But when was he not childish. You didn’t know what had gotten into him. 

Money. You did need the money. You didn’t have much of a choice. And as if he’d read your mind, “What do you need extra money for?” You pulled away, sitting up straight and back onto your claves.

You look away, debating on telling him your most recent life event. Would he stop acting so serious if you just told him?

“Well..uhm…my mother’s in the hospital.” The words fell from there—quick, rushed, “There was a fire at home. Things aren’t really looking good. I went home a few days ago and-and dad—he can’t foot the bill for her hospital and the repairs on our—““I’ll pay for it.” He cut off your rambling. You felt your hands trembling as they rested on your thighs. His hand had come up to readjust a strand that had been hanging in your eyes. You couldn’t read his expression, but there was a fondness in his eyes. He seemed much more relaxed than he had a few minutes ago.

This decision was easy for Satoru to make. In his mind it was a simple problem: Your lack of sleep. Your weight loss. Your stress. Your influx of deadly missions. Your affection.

And the solution: money.

Something he had plenty of. He’d already given into his infatuation of you—not that you knew about it yet. Your warmth and your kindness eating at him day by day. The biting possessiveness constantly clawing up his throat when he saw you. The irrational jealousy he felt when you spoke to anyone other than him. With that sweet tone, that had him subconsciously on all fours. He felt like a fucking dog begging for your attention, his clinginess apparent to anyone who saw your dynamic. You’d been so oblivious, chalking up his unhealthy attachment to his personality, laughing along as he practically growled at anyone who imposed his territory. On your kindness.

And he’d been nice about waiting for you to come to terms with your own feelings. Holding back his more controlling behaviors in favor of your feelings. Yet this seemed like the obvious solution to allllll of his problems.

…aaaand~ with your good nature, he knew you’d feel indebted enough to-at the very least-stay by his side. A win-win-win in his books. As long as you stayed, he could convince you to love him. Love him the same way he loved you. He felt delirious, convincing himself. At least you’d stay—

“Satoru.” Your eyes were wide, unblinking. He watched your expression closely. Out of all the things he’s said, he’d hoped this wasn’t what you’d be offended over

“Do you even know what you’re agreeing to? I’m not going to ask you to do that for me-“ “You don’t have to ask. I want to.”

“Satoru,” you tried to sound stern but there’s no oomph behind it. The last week, since he’d been away, had been a lot. The news from your dad and the influx of missions. You wanted to handle it on your own, but it had taken its toll on you. Sleep deprived, so stressed you swore your hair had been falling out. You felt tears well in your eyes as you look anywhere but at him. He felt like a savior at this point. No-a saint. You didn’t want him seeing you look so defeated. So weak. You’d never cried in front of anyone. 

You hear him calling to you, softly. Singing your name, much softer than you’d ever heard his voice go in the past. You always had a bad habit of restraining your emotions. Being strong. But your true bad habit lies in the fact that when you were comforted or reassured, that dam you built up would crack. Tears rolled in fat blobs down your cheeks and you felt your throat constrict. Your voice soft, coming out in puffs-practically hyperventilating-“Oh, Satoru—I can’t-“

Satoru cooed, pulling you into a hug. finally getting what he’d first asked for when he had seen you. Striking while the iron is hot, yeah? 

In this moment, Satoru thought he should feel disgusted with himself. As you sobbed into his shoulder, clinging onto him for dear life, his thoughts raced. You’d never shown so much emotion before in his entire time of knowing you. Everything about this situation screamed pathetic, but he’s never felt more exhilarated. Your crying face was nothing short of enticing. You smelled so so so good. He inhaled you like a damn dessert tray. Not that you noticed. And the way you clung to him-so desperately-had him restraining himself with a patience that truly rivaled a saints.

Satoru should be disgusted with himself, but this moment was everything to him. He’d never felt so much love for another person in his life-yet you’d only been clinging to him. His mind raced with the possibilities of what he’d feel when he finally kissed you. When his teeth would bite into the fat of your thighs, leaving bruises that’d last for weeks. When your nails would dig into his back, marking him as yours. When he’d finally push his tongue into that plush cunt of yours, drinking everything you gave him. When his dick would finally sink into that weeping pussy he knew was made for him-

You continued to sob, as he pulled you into his lap—straddling him. Through your mental breakdown you hadn’t really processed the positioning, only clinging to your only source of comfort. Your best friend. Satoru trailed his hands up and down your back, soothing you with soft ‘hey’s and ‘it’s alright’s.

It was an anomaly how he wasn’t fully hard. An anomaly that you hadn’t felt the hammering of his heart. 

After a while, you calmed down, breaths evening out, and your arms loosely wrapped around Satoru’s shoulders, your head tucked in the crook of his neck. Your cheeks still stained from the tears, your eyes red and irritated. His hands were warm on your back, and your chest rested against his. You hadn’t had a moment to fully understand how this looked. But when you did, you felt yourself pull back nervously, letting out a weak laugh. Satoru, wanting to nip this in the bud, pulled you back into place. “Relax a minute.” He’s so quick to soothe you, “Take a breather, yeah?”

You, being exhausted, complied-resting back into his hold. This positioning allowed you to feel just how solid he was. You knew he was strong, but damn, was he packed with solid muscle. You felt so safe in his arms, the comfort hitting you like a truck. You hadn’t realized how much you’d needed to cry. How much you’d bottled in. Despite it being so early in the morning, and having an extended rest, you felt your eyes grow heavy.

You heard his whisper, “Let me take care of all this. You shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

Your parents needed somewhere to stay, and you barely scrapped by on your meager earnings alone. You made fine as a teacher—enough to support yourself, but you rarely took missions these days. And sure, he was rich, but you also had grown it felt terrible taking his money. But—

“Satoru, I’ll pay you back.” He’s let out a deep chuckle, immediately warming your cheeks. “Ok, Sugar. You do that.”

You relax further into him, your mind fuzzy and tired.

Satoru had followed through on his word. He’d helped with your parent’s home repairs costs, even housing them in a place near their previous one while they waited. He’d pulled some strings for the hospital bills, too. You were thankful in more ways than one. Satoru had told you not to worry about paying him back right away, telling you to just continue with your normal hours. To pay him back as you went.

He said he hated seeing you so stressed, so no like yourself. You’d been embarrassed by your breakdown. All that crying in front of him, but that too was something he quickly reassured you of. Satoru was really your best friend. He was so caring, spending precious hours of his time making meals for you and ensuring you went to bed on time. And when he was away, he’d text you constantly, checking in on you. Making sure you were safe. That you were feeling alright.

He was handsome. Playful. Sweet. Easygoing. Smart. Strong. You hate to sound so selfish, but you almost hoped he wouldn’t get a girlfriend. You didn’t think you’d want to share the attention he poured into you. The thought of him focusing on another woman made you more than uneasy.

He’d make his playful flirty jokes occasionally, but you were sure that’s all they were. He’d never shown an interest in dating, and you couldn’t see the flippant man settling down. He just never came off as a committed family man…though he was pretty protective over his students…and he seemed pretty accommodating for you-you shake the thoughts from your mind. The dangerous, dangerous thoughts that you could have the unobtainable. Because that’s what he was. Your feelings were displaced and not reasonable. Unfeasible. You couldn’t possibly expect him to reciprocate those types of feelings when he was already so busy. 

A few months had passed since then. Satoru still never spoke about what happened, never even mentioned the money-not once. With every penny that was left over from your check, you tried giving to Satoru. Each time he’d talk you into keeping it-

“Huh?? Didn’t you say you needed a new coat for winter?? Keep it, pay me back next time.”

“I thought your laptop just broke. Don’t you need it for work? Don’t worry about it.”

“Why’re you giving me that? You’ve been eating lunch from the vending machines for weeks-buy something to eat instead.”

But next time never came. Satoru just kept refusing your money.

Then one night, you came home from work, ready to rinse off and relax. You stumbled up the stairs of your apartment only to see the door wide open. Your heart thudded against your chest, as you shakily brought your phone from your pocket. You didn’t have to think longer than two seconds before dialing Satoru.

“Well hello—“ “Satoru,” your voice panicked. “Someone broke into my apartment—“The line went dead before you could finish your sentence. You stared at your phone in dismay before feeling an overwhelming presence behind you. You jump, swinging your purse around quickly, warding off your attacker. Aim for the head— Only to be met with those pale blue eyes.

“Woah~ Feisty today, no?” He chuckled. Thankfully, he his infinity had been up. “Shit, Satoru you scared me—“

His eyes flit to your open door before making his way in. Before calling him, you hadn’t thought about the possibility of him getting hurt. But that thought flagged in your mind the second he made his way to the door. Your hands trembled as you made to reach out to him.

“Hey, wait—“ “Stay here, kay? I’ll check it out.” You’d caught his sleeve, stopping him in his tracks. “But—““Wait here.”

The command was firm, unwavering. Left with little room for arguments. You gripped your hand, feeling scattered and antsy. Your panicked brain on fight or flight. He was the strongest for a reason. Yet you couldn’t fight the twist in your stomach, anxiety creeping up your throat.

He made his way inside. alone. You waited a few minutes before he came back out.

“Well they’re gone. Looks pretty messed up in there. Have you called the police?” You shake your head, as he lets out a small sigh, before looking away. His stern face gave you a feeling that he was scolding you. The curve of his lips gave him away though,

“Give them a call, then we’ll pack you a bag, alright?” You tilt your head confused. Pack a bag?

“What? You don’t actually expect me to let you stay here after a break in, do you?” The question was reasonable, but you didn’t know why you felt so flustered. His tone somewhat teasing, like he was stating the obvious.

“O-ok”

You file a report, then pack a bag obediently. Satoru stays with you the entire time, helping when you asked him to. He’d teased you about how messy it was — “you sure it wasn’t like this before.”-like he hadn’t been there the night before. You’d huffed at him, but were thankful that he managed to alleviate some of those nerves. 

“Where are we going?”“My place.” “Mm?-“

Before you could fully question him, he warped you without warning. Only to find yourself in a living room you’d never seen. His living room. So that’s how he did it. You’d never figured out how me managed to pop up everywhere.

“Satoru! You can’t just do that without saying anything—““Welcome to my humble abode! Make yourself comfortable,” ignoring your protests, he moved to grab the bag from your hands. Turning, he navigated his way to-what you’d assume was a hallway. You stood there awkwardly, looking around. Shuffling foot to foot. His home was pristine. Clean, in a sterile type of way that made your skin itch. You guess he barely stayed here, considering how he spent most of his evenings at yours.

“You haven’t had dinner yet, no? What’re you wanting?” He seemed to magically reappear in the kitchen. You hadn’t heard his steps. You already owed him so much, and now staying with him? Maybe you could pay him rent?

“Uhm, hang on.” Your voice feeling quite meek at the moment.

“Hm?” His nonchalance peeved you, did he really not care that you were basically leeching? Did he have no self preservation? It kinda irritated you that he wouldn’t take your money for the renovations and hospital bills, but now he was expecting you to live off him in his apartment. Or were you misunderstanding something? You didn’t want to create something out of nothing.

“About this…living situation…” you trailed off, still unsure of your next words. “Are you asking me to…you’re really okay if I…stay here? Do you even know how long—“

“However long we need.” This surprised you. And you couldn’t control the surprise that you were sure was plastered on your face. His wording just—off. 

“Huh?”“You’re not staying in that neighborhood. And I’ve got plenty of rooms here. Stay here a while. At least til you can afford to live in a better part of town.”

He turns back to the fridge, sifting through its contents. What did he mean ‘tIl yoU cOUld aFforD?’

Your irritation flaring up more than you cared to admit.

So much had happen in the last few hours. It was highly unlikely you’d be getting a pay raise anytime soon. And Satoru had seemed so adamant that you not pick up missions for money. Just how long were you supposed to stay here.

“Satoru, I don’t wanna leech off you, I’ll pay you rent, just tell me how much” His back still to you as he seemed to freeze.

“You aren’t leeching. Especially if I’m offering it to you. You don’t need to pay to stay in my spare bedroom.”

He still hasn’t faced you, opting to continue his scavenge. But Satoru rarely ate at home, so he was having a difficult time finding proper ingredients.

“Looks like we’ll need to go grocery shopping.” You don’t respond, feeling anxious once again. You’re sure this wasn’t good for your stomach.

“You’ve…you’ve given so much. Is this really…okay? I really don’t mind paying…”

You hear the fridge door close, maybe a little harder than necessary. He turns back to you, his playful expression gone.

Satoru finally had you home. The break in was obviously his doing.

He would’ve hired someone to do it for him, but couldn’t stand the thought of another man or woman invading your private space. He had a strong feeling you’d call him first, and he’d play the hero, swooping in to save the day.

And you proved him right. He’d waited too long for you to come to him. And his need-his desperation to keep you to himself, left a constant itch in the back of his brain. A primal urge to just care for you. To provide. But you were still offering him money. Him. As if he couldn’t afford such a small expense. It was almost laughable that you hadn’t caught onto his intentions. But it was somewhat infuriating. He’d just needed to speed it along.

When he broke your door down, and made his way inside he maybe, just might of taken advantage of the strange situation. He’d looked through all of your drawers and shelves. Skimmed through your personal belongings, fulfilling the image of a proper break in, while satisfying his deep seated curiosity. He’d been there a handful of times when you were around. But he never had the time to properly snoop. He pulled out everything, strewing it on the floor. He made a deliberate choice not to break anything he knew was important to you. Your photos. Your books. Your work documents.

But he’d taken some more expensive items. Your laptop. Your headphones. Your mini safe box.

He needed this to look believable. He knew you were smart, and that once your mind had settled down you’d think it was suspicious if nothing was taken.

He did, however take a few items he knew you wouldn’t miss. Your vanilla chapstick. A polaroid photo of yourself. A pair of your underwear.

And when he’d made it to your bedside table, he felt an excitement build. He was tempted to peek. He knew what most women kept in their bedside tables, especially single women. And from the array of vibrators and dildos, he wasn’t disappointed. He almost scoffed at the size of your dildos, a small tingle in his chest stirred. Akin to pride. He was much bigger than your collection. Maybe he could take one to keep at the house? No, too risky. He could just buy a new one for you.

Shutting your drawer he moved on, til he was convinced he’d done a thorough job. Then he left. And waited. And waited. And waited.

Til he got that fated call.

And now, here you were. Standing in his living room. And he had no intention of letting you leave.

He’d even helped you pack your bag, with enough to last you a week or two. He just couldn’t control the thrill that went through his body, at your arrival, not realizing until now just how empty and lonely his apartment had been til he saw you standing in it.

His mind had played endless fantasies about this moment. About how nicely you’d settle in his space.

In “our” space. He’d planned to give you his black card—tell you to go wild. To decorate the place. To buy yourself some new clothes. Any necessities. Any non-necessities. He’d come home each day, or after missions to give you proper presents. Not just little souvenirs he frequently bought you, but the real gifts he’d been wanting to give you.

He was going to make sure you were entirely dependent on him. He’d chain you to the bed frame if he needed to. That you wouldn’t move an inch in this world without thinking of him. Til your mind was filled with him and him alone. Til you were in his bed every night, screaming his name.

So here you were. Nervously fidgeting with your sleeves, asking if he really wanted you here. If this was okay? If you could pay him to stay here.

“Yes. This is what friends are for.”

Satoru had paid for everything in the household. You realized he really enjoyed dipping into his endless pool of money, showering you with the best, then playfully feigning nonchalance at it all. He seemed to almost get a high off it.

You’d gotten over your personal feelings of this, having stayed in his pent house apartment for several weeks. You’d refused his card when he’d attempted to slide it across the table during breakfast. But that didn’t stop him from taking you out to shop with it, anyways. He’d done it so frequently that you could almost say you’d became desensitized to it.

And after the second week in, you’d stopped protesting all together. He kept refusing your attempts to pay for things. He wouldn’t accept your money, no matter how much you protested.

When you went grocery shopping with him he’d pulled the most expensive items off the shelves, tossing them into the cart without looking.

“Satoru, we are not spending 30,000 yen on a chunk of meat.”

“Sure we are.” His smile widened, as he dropped the premium beef in without hesitation.

“No, we aren’t.” You reach into the cart before his hand grabs your wrist.

“Leave it~” taunting you, “Can’t have you eating garbage everyday.” He easily deflected your objections, knowing just how to rile you up.

“I do not eat garbage!” You just couldn’t help but defend yourself. “As someone who lives with you, I can confidently say you do.” His grins is infectious, as he pushes the cart along. Your bantering never letting up. You barely notice him sliding a few more very pricy items into the cart.

You sleep comfortably at Satoru’s apartment. The guestroom bed was admittedly more comfortable than the one you had at home. And Satoru was always sure to keep you stocked on anything you needed. Without you even having to ask. It was surprising just how…in tune he was.

And It felt like he really didn’t mind you being there either. You never seemed to bother him, despite the increased time you spent at his side. Most people be at each others throats had they spent as much time together as you two did.

But it was as if he preferred the company. Your company. You often watched movies together when you both got home. Cooked and shared your meals together. Cleaned together. Grocery shopped together. Played smash bros together. All of your free time had been spent at Satoru’s side. And you felt increasingly more…fond of him over that time.

You’d stopped by your old apartment a time or two, needing to pick up some items you’d left behind. The door had been fixed a day or two after it’d been kicked down. You once again grabbed some essentials before making your way back to Satoru’s. You’d needed to decide what to do about your apartment. And your stuff. You were still paying rent. No matter how cheap it was, it wasn’t worth paying for it if you didn’t stay there. It wasn’t worth basically a glorified storage unit.

When you arrived, Satoru was in the kitchen already cooking dinner. “Ah, you’re home.” He said warmly. “I was thinking we watch “Down to You” tonight.”

He hadn’t turned to look at you, but continued his monologue. You set your stuff down before you approached the island, sitting yourself in a chair.

“That sounds good. And that smells good.” You hum. He turns to look at you, voice a tad too low for its own good, “wanna taste?”

You flushed slightly at the way he seemed to observe you, before nodding. It was moments like these that really made your chest constrict. It felt so….so domestic. So loving. And weirdly, so natural. You had been questioning your relationship with Satoru. Sometimes you’d be curled up next to him on the couch, long having forgot your previous hesitation with touching. It felt so easy now. So right.

He moved over, guarding a spoonful of whatever he was making, blowing on it lightly before feeding it to you. The taste was to die for, as you let out a soft sigh.

“S’good”

“Good. It’s curry.”

You open your mouth, hinting that you wanted more. He wouldn’t ever refuse you. He fed you another spoonful before turning back to the stove. Chewing on a seasoned piece of chicken, you thought of how you should phrase your next words. You swallow. 

“Satoru, I need to figure out what I’m gonna do with my apartment.”

“Can’t you just break your lease?”

“Break my lease? Then what?” He shoots a look back at you,

“Then what? Then nothing. You stay here.”

“What about my stuff? I can’t stay here forever.” You felt your heart ache at the thought of leaving, though. But it wasn’t like you really could stay forever. You needed to sort this out before you became too attached. He rolls his eyes, huffing, his mood still lighthearted.

“What about it? Bring it here. I told you before, you’ll stay here til you’ve saved up enough to live in a better neighborhood. Til you can afford a better place.”

You don’t respond to this. He continues cooking as an easy silence falls between you too.

“You really don’t mind me staying?” Your insecurities get the better of you. You had to be sure. He laughs now. As if you’d just told him the funniest joke he’d ever heard. You just wouldn’t drop it, would you?

“I’d never mind it.” There was a pause.

“And if you get a girlfriend?”

It comes out before you’d gathered the brain cells to stop it. The way your head spins at the audacity of your own question. The thought painful, and enough to make you green. You brought this on yourself and you knew it. You don’t know what made you say it. The thought of another woman sitting here, being spoon fed chicken curry that Satoru had personally made, left you feeling some type of way. Was it disgust? Jealousy?

He laughs again, and you can’t help the small scowl that forms on your face. “What? Why’re you laughing.”

“You’re a comedian now, huh?” His taunting remark, had you reeling for a second. Of course he wasn’t taking you seriously.

“You think I’d be interested in other women?” The implication there, but you couldn’t grasp it. You couldn’t be so sure of yourself. Why wouldn’t he be?

“Why wouldn’t you?” A bold question. Your voice dismissive, and as nonchalant as you could make it. You’d never had a relationship talk with him before. Making new strides tonight, aren’t you?

He stares at you for a second, and you can see the gears turning under the white fluff he calls hair. His face turning dead panned and stoic. Gears turning in his head. You can’t be this stupid… Right?

“You’re really asking me?” He’s in front of you now, having gone around the island. His curry pulled off the stove. He stares down at you, his blue eyes bright, dominating your view. Feeling annoyed at his roundabout answers, 

“Should I not be asking you that—“ his hands land on either side of your chair pushing his leg between your thighs. Caging you in. The movement was so unexpected, knocking the air from your lungs. He was quick—

“Don’t be bratty.” His tone warning, face inches from yours. Ok maybe your tone was a little… And yet you refused to look away first. He always seemed to bring out the worst in you. The way he’d said ‘bratty’ collapsed your rational thinking, creating a challenge to show him what bratty really was. But before you could say nothing in response his voice came out low and smooth, close to a whisper.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you don’t want me bringing another woman home.”

He’s joking. He’s joking. He’s just messing with you again. 

You don’t know how to respond to his accusation, so you opt to remain silent. Refusing to break first. That bratty side in you, flaring.

“What would you do?” The question hanging, unanswered. He waits a second, deciding whether he wants to push you. It’s that defiant stare again. Fucking brat.

“And what if I brought another woman home? If I fucked her so loud you could hear it through the walls?” You visibly swallowed, crossing your arms. Just feeling that irritation boil up the back of your neck. You didn’t like the thoughts that came to your mind. Satoru’s eyes latch onto the movement, his presence easily overwhelming you.

He leans in closer, choosing to break your eye contact in favor of whispering in your ear.

“Or” he practically purred “what if I invited another woman to come live here? If I bought her whatever she wanted. Spent every. waking. hour. with her?” You can’t help the shudder that runs up your back, his voice deep and teasing. Your heart leaps in your throat at the feel of his breath on your ear. He’s too close. And you’re almost panicking now. You know he’s spelling it out for you, but the provocative statement is still forefront in your mind. You grip the sides of your chair.

“Step away, Satoru.” you hiss, the thought of him replacing you, making you more jealous than ever. He lets out a short deep chuckle, blowing lightly on your neck. “What if I don’t wanna~?”

“I can see why people don’t like you.” Your arms cross over your chest, again as you instantly regret saying something so hurtful. Your words somewhat blanketed, you knew you were just blowing smoke. And he knew it too.

“You like me.” You turn away at this, ignoring the truth in his words.

You did like him. You liked him a lot.

“C’mon now,” he’s purring again, his mouth dropping down to your neck. “I didn’t mean it. Y’know I didn’t.” His words made you shudder again, with how deep his voice was and how earnest he seemed. Like he was coaxing a cat out from hiding. The feel of his lips on your neck definitely didn’t help you. And neither did that damn leg. You lean back a bit, but don’t push him away. Pouting.

“Y’know I’d never replace you. I couldn’t ever.” He nibbles, leaving small kisses and bites in his wake. This was definitely a boundary he was crossing. You knew things wouldn’t be the same after this. This was too close.

Your neck was always sensitive.The goosebumps that rose on your skin were enough to prove it. You’re sure he noticed in your year + together that you didn’t like people touching you there.

You couldn’t help the thoughts that flooded your mind. The thoughts he planted there with his suggestive words. Feeling you core tighten, and your cunt clench around nothing, you had attempted to close your legs. You are quickly reminded that his leg was slotted between them, as he pushes it further, only inches away from your center. He lets out another laugh at your expense.

“Why’re you so cute? Those expressions ~ Are you getting all wet because of me?” That same sensation runs up your back again as you shoot further into your chair—if possible. You did feel like an agitated cat, puffing up at the hint of danger. 

He slots himself further between your legs, spreading them wider. Your eyes still looking anywhere but at him.

“Look at me.” He commands, his hand on your jaw in an instant, turning you to face him. His eyes loom down at you, and you couldn’t read the expression on his face. All you knew was that it was turning you on, the wetness pooling in your panties evidence enough.

“You don’t need to leave. Not now. Not ever.”

His voice a cold warning. You would’ve felt scared if you weren’t so horny. Since when had he acted like this? What thoughts were going through his head?

Damn him. his handsome face. his thick thighs, his wide fuckin hips, his tall frame, that stupid smug grin on those perfect lips—You don’t resist him. You stare up at him obediently. He leans in close now, inches from your lips—right where you need him to be.

“Do you understand me?” You nod. You’d almost forgotten what he’d said in the first place. 

“Use your words, Sugar.” That fuckin taunting voice—

“Yes. I understand. I won’t.” You’re sure you’d say anything if he kept those eyes on you. His smile widened, fondness dripping in his eyes. He pulls back slightly.

“For your information, I’m not fucking anyone. And I’m not interested in fucking anyone else.” He eyes you up and down shamelessly before releasing your chin and moving back towards his curry dish on the stove. Ignoring the mess he’d left. He was fucking playing with you. You were soaked in between, and he had the audacity to play it off. Two could play at that game.

Irritated, you quickly get up and head back to your room, nearly panting. There was a frustrating mix of emotions buzzing under your skin. You desperately needed to release the pent up energy. It was all Satoru’s fault. And he knew what he was doing. You only hesitated a bit, before making up your mind. So what if that bastard heard you. Maybe he’d come and finish the job he started.

You pull the bag you’d brought a few weeks back and open it to find the vibrator you had hidden beneath your clothes. You lay out on the bed, stripping your bottom half bare. You were right.

Absolutely drenched.

And the thought of him listening in made you feral. You’d never been excited, as you rubbed your fingers through your puffy slit. You let out a lengthy relieved moan at the minimal friction, your head falling back.

You fuckin’ hoped he heard you. You thrust your fingers inside, working that g-spot relentlessly, occasionally pulling out and rubbing your clit. You flipped your vibrator on, the second it reaches your clit you moan out in ecstasy. Loud. Loud enough that you voiced echos the room. You felt yourself coming closer to cumming, before finally feeling that cord snap. You came hard. You pussy pulsating around you fingers.

Satoru, of course, had heard everything. The menace he was—he’d wound you up hoping to draw a confession from you. But like always he managed to get carried away. He couldn’t say he was upset with the outcome. He’d been able to see you so deliciously vulnerable right before his eyes. The way you squirmed beneath him, your beautiful doe eyes practically begging him to fuck you. And the second he’d heard your footsteps prattle away, a moan coming from your room, he knew it was all worth it.

His feet carried him straight to your door, long forgetting the food. He quietly approached, leaning in closely to listen. Your moans mixed with the wet squelches made him stutter out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His dick painfully hard in the confines of his pants. The image of you shuddering beneath him still burned into his mind. He’d pushed you, yes. But it was worth it to see the jealous look smearing your pretty features.

And now, his prize and punishment. Just out of reach. The sound of your vibrator, your whimpers and moans, and finally the sound of your climax. You filled the entire apartment with your sinful sounds.

His head rests against the door, his palms flexing. He put himself in this position, yet he wasn’t mad about it. His ear tinted red as he tried to imagine what your face looked like when you came. He’d thought long and hard, leaning against your door like that.

Satoru left the house soon after that. And when he’d arrived home, the lights were out in the apartment. He saw you had eaten the curry he left out for you, as he listened in for any sign of life. You were likely asleep. He brought the bag back to his room, locking the door before digging in. He’d bought several things that night, and was itching to put them to good use. Ordered some more to come in the next day. 

You on the other hand were suffering from post nut clarity. What had you done? What had he done?

Would he pretend this never happened? He left the house before you could work up the courage to go talk to him about it. He’d been the one to push you, though. Would you even be able to face him. Explain to him the actions of your stupid horny brain. You had wondered if he really hadn’t heard you. Would you just be embarrassing yourself by bringing it up? And what about your conversation at the island table? 

When you left for work the next day, you hadn’t seen him at all. Usually he’d be in the kitchen making breakfast for the two of you. You’d typically eat together, laugh about the movie you’d watched the night before, then say your goodbyes for the day. But his bedroom door was shut. So you left. The change in routine was more noticeable than you thought. You didn’t realize how accustomed you were to having Satoru’s presence around you, that it just threw your whole day off.

When you got home that evening you immediately noticed something was off. You spotted more artwork on the walls. More furniture in the previously bare environment. It felt warmer than before, as you placed your bag by the door. More like home. 

You heard rustling in the kitchen, making your way to the source of both the noise and the delicious smell. And there he was. In all his handsome glory. Who made him that attractive? You think spitefully. 

“Oh! You’re home?” The word home hung a little more heavier than it did before. “Yeah, I just got back.”

He nods, as you take your seat in the island chair. Your mind flashes back to your position there yesterday night before he speaks up.

“How was your day?” The conversation remained light. You talked about each of your days, excluding the awkwardness of the morning.

“What’s with all the new decor? It’s nice don’t get me wrong, but…”

“Ah I wanted to liven the place up a bit…you can add whatever you want. It’s your place too, y’know?”

The words hang there. Should you address it? How would that conversation even go?

“Should we…should we talk about yesterday?” He remained playful and easygoing, “what’s there to talk about?” Was he being serious? He was just going to ignore it? Your confusion must’ve shown on your face—

“I think I was pretty upfront. You aren’t leaving. This is your home as much as mine.” That was only the tip of the iceberg, and you didn’t know how to approach the topic that would change the entire basis of your relationship.

“What are you expecting from me? Some kind of friends with benefits?” Your voice attempting nonchalance yet failing to hid the bitterness. He just didn’t seem the type for relationships. But a situationship did seem right up his alley. His smile tightened as he addressed you coldly, head tilting.

“I don’t care what label you put on it. Long as you aren’t seeing other people. Long as you stay here.” You decide to drop it there, not liking how cold his eyes had gotten. Eating in strained peace.

You shower off before heading to bed, but not before running into him in the hallway. His eyes shamelessly skimmed your body, which thankfully was still wrapped in a towel. You nodded at him before scurrying to your room and closing the door quickly. His gaze still made you so flustered.

You moved to grab your clothes before noting the framed landscape painting on the wall in front of your bed. It was somewhat awkward knowing that he’d been in your room while you were away, but it is his apartment, right?

You dress in your pajamas before tucking yourself in bed. The room was dark as you snuggled in the overly soft comforter.

That was before you heard him.

A low groan, followed by another. You sat bolt upright in bed. His room was on the other side of the wall, so you didn’t need to strain much to hear it. Continuous strings of moans, groans, and pants. You weren’t sure you were hearing right. You wait a few moments, unbelieving. Was he really doing this? Your face flushed red as you lay back in bed. You reach down between your legs feeling the dampness over your clean panties. Damn. 

All it took was his voice. You touch your clothed pussy, feeling the damp spot grow. His groans and panting heavier as he begins moaning out your name. You to freeze up, heart hammering. He was playing so dirty.

Too warm. You pulled the covers back, pulling down your shorts and underwear. The cold air hits your slick pussy and you rub meticulously. Your other hand stifles your moans before they can come out.

Satoru was playing dirty and he knew it. The second he was in bed, his mind never left how you looked walking around in that small towel. The water droplets clinging to your hair, and the smooth expanse of your creamy skin on display.

You were a fucking minx walking around like that. Pulling that stunt yesterday. All he had to do was imagine you, and the rest was history.

He was sure his moaning carried through the walls. He wanted to give you a little something for the day before. A few minutes go by before he pulls out his phone, clicking his new home security app. He’d placed cameras around the house. Expensive ones. Ones you wouldn’t see, hiding behind the decorative paintings he’d placed everywhere. Including your room.

You were lying there on your bed, your finger on that perfect gushing pussy. The camera quality, crystal clear. He couldn’t stop the groan from his mouth, calling out your name softly again. The satisfaction rolled in waves at the movement of your hips, no doubt in response to his voice.

This had been the best investment he’d ever made.

Tensions had been high around the apartment. Much to your displeasure. Satoru was still very friendly with you, spending much of his free time around you. Still very touchy, yet never crossing that line of too much.

He still never addressed your silent war of loudly masturbating in your rooms— a war which you both seemed to continue after that first day. And it was not something you were going to comment on first, especially if he was being stubborn. You’d spent more time out of the house, feeling that tension stifle you. But you’d wanted more from it. Wanted more from your relationship and he didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it.

He would complain when you stayed out for long periods of time, but it was better than addressing the shift in your dynamic. And you could only stand to see his face so often when you frequently heard him climaxing in the next room over. Your name a constant on his tongue.

You’d met up with your childhood friend from home. You’d known him for years, having grown up together. Satoru had met him too—funnily enough. He’d been the catalyst for Satoru’s possessive best friend hugging era. That friend.

He’d came into town, and messaged about a meet up. He’d only be there for a day or two. On the way out of the apartment that morning, you let Satoru know you wouldn’t be back for dinner, not wanting him to set the plate. He looked bored when he’d ask where you were going. Even when you told him who you were meeting up with. And he said nothing when you left the house to go to dinner that day. 

All of this to say, you now found yourself very shocked. That conversation had only been a few hours ago, though it felt longer. Here you were sat across from your childhood friend.

And to your right was Satoru Gojo.

In the flesh. The look on your friend’s face was nothing short of awkward. He hadn’t expected you to be bringing a plus one. And judging by the look on your face, you hadn’t expected Satoru there either.

Maybe this would’ve been more comfortable had it not been for how Satoru was acting.

Satoru sat back in his chair, legs sprawled out beneath him, and was possibly the only comfortable looking person at the table. His smile broad, eyes easy going. The only tell for his own irritation was the tension in his shoulders.

“Sooo, who’re you again?” His underlying tone, condescending, boarding on mean, but still managed to keep his playful persona. 

“Satoru—“ “Ah my name’s—“ You shoot your friend a look for him to shut up, giving him a light kick under the table. “Satoru, you know his name. Stop teasing.”

You give him a pointed look, still unsure why he was even there in the first place. With the way he was acting you had no doubt he’d wanted to make it awkward. You’d found out he was just quirky that way.

“Why’re you even here? This wasn’t supposed to be a group thing-“ He hummed out your name in a singsong voice, his arm swiftly clapping around on your friend’s shoulder, yanking him closer. “He doesn’t seem to mind, mm? What’s your problem with it?”

He pouted out his lips, feigning innocence. His tone doing nothing but stoking the small flame of annoyance in your chest. His puppy eyes were on display, seeming to plead his case with you, but you wouldn’t give in this time. You wouldn’t have minded him joining in, but it was the fact that he just showed up with no word. It was painfully rude. Especially when he seemed less than interested that morning. Your eyes flit to your friends, pitying his position, “Sorry for him-“

“Sorry for what!” Satoru’s loud voice rang out, “I’m a delight!” His voice indignant. You huff out, before hearing the waiter approach the table. She eyed your situation, before flushing at Gojo. Ugh.

“What can I get started for you~?” Her pitch was a bit grating to your ears. Maybe you were being too critical? But the way she eyed up Satoru solidified your critique. Absolutely grating.

Satoru smiled at the soured look painted across your face. It only got worse when the waitress came over, practically tripping over him. It did nothing to help his ego, and he pat your friend on the back, a little more forcefully than he intended before letting go. He was irritated that you were here. That you’d chosen a little date with this waste of space sitting next to him.

His grin was wide, as he made sure to eye you down—gauging your every reaction. But your eyes were on the waitress. Not him. And that annoyed him even more than he cared to admit.

“Mmm” he hummed out, turning his charm up. He hadn’t meant for it to sound so…He leaned over the table, resting his head on one hand, making eye contact with the waitress,

“What’s your sweetest dish?” The question was innocent enough. His tone light—somewhat suggestive, he knew you wouldn’t like it. The waitress flushed, and she looked away, giggling. The sound was a bit annoying, he’d admit.

He didn’t like playing this game, but he couldn’t control his actions when it came to you. His eyes flit back to you-just marginally, hoping he’d find you looking over at him. But you wouldn’t turn your fuckin’ head. He reminded himself that it was fine. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to remind you who really mattered here. 

His competition was sat to his right, his grin uneasy and uncomfortable. Satoru could tell he was a fish out of water, and it satisfied him to no end knowing that he knew. He knew he could never size up to the Satoru Gojo. If you didn’t see it, he’d just have to show you. Show you that he was the more desirable option. The better pick.

If others showed some interest in him then maybe you’d see it? He contemplated flirting some more, giving you a taste of your own medicine. He eyed the waitress shamelessly, hoping you saw him. Only for a moment.

But his thoughts were racing, and he felt somewhat desperate and out of control. You still refused to look at him, and it really was starting to drive him crazy. If only you hadn’t come out to see this fuckin shrimp.

He wouldn’t wait around for you. He didn’t need you.

But that was a lie. And he knew it. He was just jealous. And he didn’t know how to convey it.

But he knew how to get your attention.

Instigating obvious sexual tension for weeks. Act nonchalant when you spoke about your childhood friend—randomly, your supposed dinner plans with him. Pretend to ignore you as you left the house dressed up that sleek form fitting black dress.

✨Show up when you least expected it.✨ Make your friend uncomfortable, putting you in an awkward position. Flirt with the waitress right in front of you when he felt like you hated him. When he felt like you preferred someone else’s company. And now?

What else could he do to garner your attention? He could make good on his comment from before, bringing her home and fucking her right next to your bedroom door.

But the thought disgusted him. He couldn’t even picture it. And when it reached his mind, he pulled back from the flirting immediately. You glared at him now, your arms crossing over yourself in a self soothing gesture. He couldn't understand how you were able to come out like this. Not when he revolted at the idea of even touching another woman. How could you so casually sit across from another man and eat dinner like it was nothing? And like always, Satoru took it too far. But damn if it didn’t get him results.

Your eyes were back on him.

“Right, I think I’ll be leaving now—“ you stood up, not even having placed your order. The waitress caught off guard by your sudden announcement. Before you could finish raising from the chair, Satoru followed suit. Standing up frighteningly fast, causing you to stumble back. His quick reflexes caught you on instinct, straightening you back upright. You shrugged him off, not feeling too fond of the white haired sorcerer at the moment. You looked over at your friend, “I’m so sorry, we’ll just meet up next time, okay?”

Your voice so sincere it made Satoru’s chest hurt. His cursed energy licking up his insides. He could barely reign in the emotions he felt kicking back up. He watched the exchange with growing annoyance, as your friend slowly stood up, agreeing. He hugged you before parting ways, and before Satoru could utter a word, you were flying past him, the opposite way.

“Hey, wait!” His long legs catching up with you quickly. You ignore him, opting to pretend he didn’t exist in that moment.

You were still fucking hungry. And now you were cold, the nighttime air biting at your exposed legs. You walked for a few blocks, as Satoru silently tailed behind you. He hadn’t said a word, and you hadn’t bothered looking back to check if he was still following. You’d been looking for a decent food stall you could buy some noodles at.

Sure, Satoru hasn’t specifically come out and said he’d refrain from talking to other girls. But you didn’t think he’d be so blatant with his flirting. And right in front of you. Right in front of your friend? How embarrassing. 

Your conversation flitted back into your mind, remembering the possessive tinge to his words. As long as you stayed with him. And as long as you didn’t see anyone else. No labels needed. 

You so badly wished he’d been more forward with his intentions. It almost felt like he was stringing you along. Did he even care about you the way you cared for him? You hadn’t even kissed him yet. But you’d heard the way he’s climaxed. Those two didn’t fit together, you thought.

But you weren’t sure you wanted to kiss him with the little tantrum he’d thrown earlier. And his blatant disregard for your feelings. Did all of that not apply to him? None of it made sense.

And now he was invading your other friendships, putting you in shitty positions by making you look bad. All you wanted was a chill night out. Catching up with a long time friend. Hearing about the new gossip around your hometown. It’d be ages since you’d gone out.

“You ready to talk?” His voice irritated you to no end, your head snapping back to look at him. Only to find yourself looking up. When had he gotten so close? You’d been so surprised you stumbled. “Wha—“

His cocked head back, looking down at you with icy eyes, stopping you in your tracks. Was that malice?—He pulled you off the side of the road, tugging you by your arm into a dim alleyway. You stumbled over your heels before you felt your back hit the freezing wall. He had you caged again, his hands on either side of your head.

“Let’s talk.” He’d decided for you. Voice dipping low, you felt a shudder run up your back. From the cold? or him? you aren’t sure. “Satoru-“ “Are you doing this on purpose.” His voice heavy, still maintaining a teasing lilt to his voice. Always teasing.

“Doing what?”

“Playing these little mind games.” He seemed to seethe, now, “Mind games?” You parrot, dumbfounded at his accusation. What the hell was he on about?

“Yes” he hissed out, laughing, “your little games.” His tone boarded on hysterical now, blindsiding you in seconds. The whiplash inevitable. He seemed to break at your lack of adequate response. Where was this coming from?

He leaned in closer, breath tickling your ear, “I can put up with the moaning and the whimpering coming from your room. The slutty clothes you wear around the house. The sly little looks you give me. The way you call my name in your sleep.” His voice teetering on the edge. “But I won’t have you running around in that skimpy outfit, meeting up with other men for dinner.” words harsh, and blunt.

Was that really how he saw you? Some needy whore he put up with? The thought made you cringe. Why’s he being so mean?

“If you didn’t want me there then you should have said something, Satoru.” You spat his name out like it was a rotten bite of food. Ignoring the fact that he’d finally addressed what you’d been skirting around these past few weeks. But you’re too moody to deal with his bullshit right now. You go to move, wanting to just go home, “its none of your business what I wear, and who I go out with—“ He uses his body weight to his advantage pressing you back against the wall, his leg slitting between yours, easily riding up your dress. This position feeling uncannily familiar. His hand finds purchase in your hair, yanking your head back to look up at him, holding you in place.

“None of my business? No, Sugar. I’d definitely have to disagree.” His voice cold, any trace of teasing long gone. You struggled a little now, not knowing where he was going with this. But his eyes seemed to be swirling. He had to be going crazy. You refused to respond to this. He wasn’t acting like himself— “Should I just lock you up? Chain you to my bed?” You choke on your own spit. Maybe it’s just a bad joke? But that tone. And his eyes—“Y’know I could, right?” But he isn’t joking. This feeling—his cursed energy licking up your sides, pooling off of him. He wasn’t reining it in. This wasn’t your best friend— “wouldn’t even need your permission. Got a whole place where noooo one else would hear you.” He’s talking to himself—at you. You couldn’t find the words to respond. “You’re lucky I’m so nice.” 

You’re shaking now, feeling his cursed energy press into you from every angle. He was suffocating, and for the first time you felt really felt scared of him. That strength always there but he’d never pointed it at you. This felt like a bad dream, your stomach twisting in knots. You just wanted him to stop.

“No other man would let his woman leave the house like that. Dolling herself up to meet some other guy. Whoring herself out-“ “Satoru…please.” His eyes seemed to finally refocus on you.

Your trembling form, the tears pooling in your eyes. From any other man’s perspective, it’d be the right thing to pull back, and let you breathe. If he were any other man, he might’ve given in and given you that comfort you so desperately craved right then and there.

And if it had been any other situation he would have.

He stood between your legs, your tight black dress bunched up high on your thighs. You were straining for some stability. He could feel your heat through your panties, and it made him feel that much more feral. Tears pooled around your eyes in the most provocative way, your lips twisted up like you were ready to cry. The image of you had been burned into his mind. He remembered how pretty you looked when you cried.

Your form trembling beneath him, gave him back all the control he’d lost when he was back at that table. You couldn’t have had any other ideas, coming out tonight looking like that. And to think if he hadn’t shown up, you’d still be sitting there across from another man. Having to watch you doll yourself up for anyone but him.

He hadn’t thought long about it before. What he’d actually do if you decided to try and find another partner. He was always so sure you’d be there for him. By his side. He’d always been the best. The strongest. Who wouldn’t want Satoru Gojo as a partner? He’d been waiting for you. Waiting for you to make a move, for you to come to terms with your feelings and give him more to work with. Flirting, in the only way he knew how. And he thought it’d been going pretty well. Considering how you responded to all of his advances.

But now. Now he couldn’t stand it. The concept of you leaving the house. The concept of you going on dates. The days leading up to tonight, you’d been going out more. Something he couldn’t stand. You’d gone too far this time. Satoru had already come to terms with all of his feelings. It was about time you did too. But he didn’t intend to play nice after what you’d done.

“What’s wrong?” He feigned a comforting tone. You began sniffling, trying to keep it together. “You gonna fuckin’ cry? After stringing me along like that?”

Looking up at him with those eyes. It made him fuckin  insane. Your voice was shaky, “I didn’t—“ “I know you’re not gonna say you didn’t try and play me. You wouldn’t be that stupid to think this whole mess was a good idea? That you’d forgotten what I told you before.”

You didn’t know what to say, your mind so hazy and frazzled from your oncoming mental breakdown. He wasn’t helping it either with his incessant badgering. He was easily overcrowding you, his frame blocking your field of view. Your breathing picked up as you felt your vision closing in. He was everywhere. And all in between. You’d wanted to tell him you really had only been going out to see a friend. And you really didn’t think it was that far off to assume you and Satoru weren’t together.  But it was a little silly saying that. To not feel somewhat responsible for this. He was jealous of your friend. Fine. You could work with that. But were you dating? Did he consider what you’d had an actual relationship? You hadn’t even talked about it. Really talked about it. You kept repeating to yourself that you could fix this. You struggled to find the breaths and the words to voice your placations.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whisper, your voice somewhat breathy from panic. “Huuhh~” his voice drawn out, boarding on cruel (in your opinion) “What’d you say?” He leaned closer, voice lowering. “you’re too quiet.”

“I’m sorry, Satoru.” Your voice wobbled, as you tried not to cry. A tear made its way down your cheek despite your best efforts. You still loved him. Despite how much he was scaring you right now. You still loved your best friend. “Aww~” his thumb wiped away your tear, “you think a ‘sorry’s gonna cut it?” You couldn’t stop the trembling now, his actions boarding on unpredictable. He wasn’t being the best right now, but when this was over, it would all be ok. Everything would be ok.

Satoru had to think quickly. And his mind was running a mile a second. He had you pinned against himself and the wall, the alleyway hidden from flooded roads.

It was late, and the odds of being interrupted were low. He wouldn’t let the moment slip. He had to solidify his place in your life. Had to push past your thoughts of him being friendly or playful. He’d say anything—do anything if it meant no one else’d have you. And that thought terrified him. He was positive that if another man touched you, he’d rip his throat out. Without batting an eye. He’d been ready to do so had your “friend” given any slight hint of wanting to hook up. He had been so sure he’d scared him away last time, but it seems he hadn’t taken the hint.

You watched Satoru carefully, his words sinking in. You still had no idea what he wanted from you. Had he not wanted an apology? Was he teasing you again?  “Satoru, I don’t know—“ he quickly leaned in—kissing you. His teeth nearly knocking against yours as he further dominated your space. His hand still tangled up in the back of your hair. He groaned into you, rocking himself closer against your cunt. You were so out of breath, you opened for air, only to have his tongue push through your lips. The feeling of him —all of him—was enough to make your head spin and your mind go blank. His proximity calmed your nerves in a way that made you feel more antsy than ever before. His hands left your hair, and began to roam. Feeling, clinging to places he hadn’t been before. At least not ‘intentionally’.

Giving you a second to breathe, his eyes darted, trailing his hands, his head resting on your shoulder. He was panting like a dog now. He’d never felt so riled up. It was only when he was with you. Only with you.

He’d easily found his way under your dress, tugging the fabric up to expose you to the cold night air. “W-wait, please—“ Your tugging on his arm did nothing to stop him, as his free hand found its way around your neck. A firm warning to shut up. His other hand, groping at your pillowy thighs, making their way up your side, fingers toying the underside of your bra. He shifted his thigh, pushing it right against your clothed cunt. You’d let out a breathy moan at this, as he loosed his hold on your neck.

He could see the way you responded to him. You were just as desperate as he was. He could feel you grind your hips against his thigh. The fabric of his pants dampening from the contact, as he released a string of curses. Your nails clawing into his shoulders as he started leaving wet open mouthed kisses against your neck. You felt so fucking good. He could feel himself succumbing to your needy whimpers, placing his clothes cock right where your entrance was hiding. His hips setting a rhythm that left you whining against him. He never wanted this to end.

All those nights spent listening to your siren’s call through the walls. All of those nights spent listening to your needy whines and whimpers. Begging for someone to come fuck you. Watching you through those cameras. Fucking his fist so hard, til he became his own needy pathetic whimpering mess. So close, yet he wasn’t ever able to touch. You were a fucking tease. And he loved every bit of you.

You were panting again. You felt yourself grow wet, your thighs seeking some friction against his leg. You needed to hold onto something. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.

“You wet, baby?” His voice was teasing again, loving the way your pussy seemed to beg for him. He’d slotted himself fully between you, holding one of your legs up only to grind against your soaked pussy. When you don’t respond, his fingers curl around your neck tighter. You nod, breathlessly. “yes, yes, please, feel s’good” you’re fighting to stand, balancing on one leg, but you were sure he’d catch you if you stumbled.

“Ah, so honest. Where was this good girl earlier?” He felt his cock strain against his pants, almost painfully. “So obedient now.” Your eyes glazed, you mind filling with lewd fantasies of him spanking you black and blue for disobeying his word. You weren’t a virgin by any means, but you sure as hell weren’t ready for this man. “Want me to fuck you here?”

His eyes watched you closely, scanning for any sign that you wanted him to stop. Though he doesn’t think he’d stop even if you had wanted him to. Finding nothing but lust clouding your vision, his fingers press in between your legs, edging the spot you needed him the most. He traced circles across your clit, stalling his dry humping. He was tempted just to eat out your pretty pussy there and now, feeling the slick pooling on his fingers. “Satoru,” you let out a breathy whine, bucking your hips.

“There you go. Look at you. You’re drenched for me.” You didn’t have the head space to be embarrassed now. When his fingers finally found your clit, it was game over. Your fingers dug into his back, desperately holding yourself up. His hand around your thigh offering some support as your knees buckled under you.

“Do you think you deserve to cum tonight?” Your gaze desperately snaps up to his. Your eyes pleading to let you cum. Begging him. He’s smiling at you, a genuine lazy smile. But his eyes do all the talking. “Answer me, pretty girl.”

You nod eagerly, feeling your hips push against his fingers again. He’s circling, slow and steady, painfully slow, never dipping into your dripping hole.

“Where’d that honesty go?” He narrowed his eyes, tutting. “Think long and hard about what you did tonight. Why you shouldn’t have gone out with him.” His words continued to wrap around your haze ridden mind, his pace picking up finally. “why you shouldn’t make me do unnecessary shit to earn your attention.” His voice nearing hostile now, as he rubbed your clit with damn near precision. “You think I like seeing you with him? That I like other men’s eyes on this body.” He was relentless in his pace, you felt yourself close, body stilling and mind barely listening, nails biting into him. You tried so hard to listen to him. So hard to be a good girl. So hard not to cum. “You’re mine. Everything that involves you, involves me. Every part of you—mine. Don’t you fuckin’ forget who you belong to.”

The sound of his voice mixed with his fingers slotting against you—not even inside you yet—had you climaxing hard. Your pussy clenching-pulsating around nothing. Satoru watch you come down from your high, transfixed on your face. On the way your hips pushed into him. The way your cum mixed slick coated his hand and fingers, dripping on his thigh. He was fucking obsessed. His fingers continue slowly circling your clit, maintaining a slow punishing pace. Your body going through shockwaves with each swipe, you desperately wiggle to get away, feeling heavily overstimulated.

“Please-please stop, ‘Toru, please, please” your whimpers and pleas going straight to his cock head. He couldn’t stop himself from abusing your cunt, wanting nothing more than to watch you squirm in his arms. He’d be nice.

He brought his fingers to his lips, taking a long digit into his mouth. Something he’d never wanted to do before. He just couldn’t help the morbid curiosity—what did you taste like? And fuck you tasted amazing. He cleaned his fingers, eyeing you hungrily.

“Who knew you’d be so naughty? Did you even listen to me?” His tone taunting, as if he were scolding a child. He flipped you around, pushing your chest against the wall, practically bending you over. It was uncomfortable to say the least. When you tried to move, he pressed his chest up against your back, leaning over you. Locking you in place. You felt his dick pressed against your ass, his hands on your hips. “Stay still for me, yeah?” He rutted against you, letting out a strained groan.

“S’not fair.” He huffed against your neck, dry fucking you against the wall. Your previous slick trailing down your leg. You needed him inside you. So so so badly. “You don’t play fair.”

His hand finally made its way back to what you sure was a rats nest of hair. He’d already tangled it up either way. He finally had enough of the teasing, pulling himself free from his pants. He slotted himself between your folds, gathering some least your honeyed goodness before brutally thrusting into you. He’d buried himself to the hilt, his hand holding your hip in place—leaving you no where to go. You’d wiggled to move away, and at your whimper, he all but growled into your neck, “take it. You’ll take it til I’m done. You hear me?” He pulled himself to the tip before slamming himself into again, repeating the process over and over and over. The position had him hitting your sweet spot each thrust, the quiet whimpers turning into louder moans as his hand found its way to your mouth, fingers thrusting inside, gagging you. “You forget where we are? Pipe down, pretty girl. Don’t wanna get caught, do you?” He left his fingers in your mouth, fucking fiercely into you. Driving into you with a force that left you gasping. Each push pulled you closer to the edge as you felt like you were going to—needed to cum again.

He felt your cunt clench around his dick, felt it more than you knew. He felt everything tenfold, his infinity working overtime on all of his senses. His cursed energy never dropping. Felt your cunt pulsating around him, heard every wet slap his balls made against your puffy clit. Felt how you clenched up when he spoke to you, and wondered if you were always like that. His skin was set on fire—every part that touched you, burned. “Shouldn’t even be getting off to this, y’know? Supposed to be my turn.” Each word enunciated by a rough thrust into you, your hushed moans and pants spurring him on. He was convinced you were his everything. You were just so tight and so warm. He wasn’t able to hold back when he pumped you full, his seed deep inside. He moaned out your name as he felt your cunt spasming around his dick. Sucking him in, milking his cock dry. His fingers slipping from your lips—tightly gripping your neck, his other brushing your hip.

He hadn’t bothered pulling out. Why would he? It wasn’t like he’d planned on letting you leave in the first place.