booth.x.bones_

You laugh while grabbing your purse, "Guys usually don't get flowers for their dates imaginary twin sisters." "What can I say? I'm all inclusive," He slings his arm over your shoulder and beams down at you. You both approach his sports car, you notice the suitcase in the back seat as you get inside. Satoru closes the door before jogging to the drivers side and getting in. "Planning to murder me or something?" you glance at the suitcase. "Duh. I just brought snacks for afterward," He says sarcastically before starting the engine and driving off.

"Well my curfew is at 11 so murder me before then." "Gocha," he winks.

At first you thought he was cracking a joke to maybe release some of the awkwardness of the entire ordeal, or maybe just a way to make you laugh.

That was, until, you saw him approaching the airport, which is precisely when you realized that this was not a normal date.

Then again, Gojo isn't a normal human being, so maybe it is normal. For him.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, telling you that he emailed you your itinerary and to make sure to have it ready because apparently your flight was leaving in 10 minutes.

Now you weren't the most educated person on first dates and what not, but you knew that going to the airport was not... ideal.

But, despite your hesitance and dull feeling in your gut that Satoru truly was going to kill you, you found yourself on Satoru's private jet for two and a half hours while he assured you that he was not, in fact, going to kill you.

You both arrived in Okinawa, where Satoru then took you to a park.

You got out of the car he rented, looking up at the endless expanse of stars in awe. Your eyes were glued to the marvelousness in front of you, the small white dots appearing as grains of sand.

You tried to make out constellations you recalled learning about briefly on YouTube before ultimately giving up and taking in the view. "...Satoru, where are we?" "A park! To stargaze. And stuff." He gestures behind him to the expanse of stars and sky in front of you both. "I remember you saying a few weeks ago that you liked looking at the stars and stuff so I thought you might like this since Okinawa is a dark sky community and stuff, but if its too much we can totally go back home I know you're probably-" "It's perfect." You cut off his rambling, giving him a reassuring smile. "You didnt have to book a plane ticket though," you laugh. "I only wanted you to have the best."

You both ended up finding a spot with no trees or mountains blocking your view, on top of a large boulder.

Satoru dragged his mysterious suitcase along with him, opening it up to reveal snacks and blankets.

"In case we got cold. Or hungry," He passes you a rice ball.

You both lay back, side by side and Satoru spends the whole night identifying constellations that don't exist, while also giving them origin stories.

"That one right there," He points in a completely random direction, "That one's us." "...Sartoru, that's a satellite."

"..." he pauses for a beat. "Still counts."

He scooches closer to you, inch by inch until his shoulder and legs are pressed to yours, turning his head to the side to look at the side of your face. Your gaze remains on the sky but you can feel his breathing against your face. "Do you like space?" he suddenly asks. "Yeah, it's cool. I think is fascinating to wonder what's out th-" "I like your space."

He's already violating it. And suspiciously closer.

You slowly turn your head.

You look at him.

Then at the two feet of empty rock beside him.

Then back at him.

"I can tell."

"Guess what else?" He whispers, shoving a gummy worm in his mouth. "What."

"You haven't told me to move." he smirks.

"Move."

"That wasn't genuine."

"I absolutely meant that."

"No because you're still talking to me instead of physically relocating."

"...I shouldn't have to evacuate every time you show up."

"Seems like you've accepted me into your personal space and you're just scared to admit it," he pokes your nose.

You sigh. "That's not what that means."

"Lets agree to disagree."

Somewhere between stargazing and sunrise, you both fall asleep. You wake up at four a.m to the ocean light peeking over the horizon, before deciding to fly back home.

Although, thinking back on it, you both could have teleported home, but you arrived back in Tokyo around seven a.m.

He drops you off back at your front door, his heart feeling like it's going to implode by looking at the sleepy look in your eyes.

"Thank you for tonight."

"My pleasure, princess," He bows dramatically.

You laugh, "I thought I told you my curfew was at 11 pm?"

"Well, you're home, alive, and safe so I don't see the problem?"

"You broke the rules," you gently push at his shoulder.

"Rules were made to be broken," he shrugs before stepping closer and tilting his head down to your ear, lips stopping by your cheek.

"See you on our second date," he whispers, pressing his lips softly to the side of your face before giggling like an idiot and running away.

“i doubt it, you big back.”

“you’re so mean to me.”

you laugh, the sound breaking into another kiss because satoru seems physically incapable of letting more than a few seconds pass without stealing one.

“kissing me until i forget what i was saying?”

“…is it working?” he muses.

you pause. “…maybe.”

“i know you‘re enjoying yourself,” he says softly, brushing his lips over yours again. “you haven‘t pulled away yet.”

“seems like i’ve made questionable life choices.”

he gasps dramatically, though his smile gives him away.

“oh? dating me is questionable?”

“sometimes.”

another kiss.

“when you leave your socks everywhere.”

mwah.

“when you eat all my snacks.”

mwah.

“when you—”

he kisses you longer that time, lingering just enough that you forget where your complaint is going.

“…see?” he murmurs.

“you are so annoying.”

“but?”

“but…” you smile. “you’re very cute.”

his grin is immediate, and he kisses the corner of your mouth

“what do you want for dinner?” you ask.

“hmm…” he pretends to think hard, his forehead resting against yours. “you.”

“oh my god,” you groan. “you’ve been waiting to say that, haven’t you?”

“maybe.” he grins into the next kiss.

“you should be embarrassed.”

“can’t hear your mean remarks when you’re this close.”

your lips meet in soft, absent-minded kisses between tiny conversations about nothing at all. whether the laundry is finished, whether the weather looks nice tomorrow, or how his teaching is going.

“toru—” kiss. “—how am I supposed to—” another kiss. “—focus?”

“why’d you need to?” his smile softens into something quieter, gentler than his usual teasing grin.

“…we still need groceries.”

“tomorrow,” he insists.

“tomorrow,” you give in.

He memorized every step exactly the way you taught him. First came the spray bottle with warm water. Then the kid friendly leave in conditioner he had to get imported from outside Japan. After that, he carefully detangled from the ends upward before using a lightweight curl cream meant for children and sealing everything with a tiny bit of oil.

Satoru approached the routine like studying an opponent. Except in this case his opponent was the most adorable princess with a tender scalp and the patience of a angry little dictator.

Soon he was researching satin pillowcases for kids at three in the morning. Ordering soft brushes that wouldn’t pull on her curls. Watching routine videos while lying across your chest after missions because he refused to be bad at something connected to his daughter.

And honestly, it worked. Satoru Gojo was annoyingly talented at almost everything. Within weeks, his daughter only wanted him to do her hair. Whether it be ponytails, wash and go's, braids, you name it.

“Daddy does the...the braids prettier,” she declared all shy one morning while you stared at her in fake offense.

Satoru looked unbearably smug sitting on the bathroom floor with pink clips between his teeth. “Sorry, baby. I’m simply gifted.”

Your daughter giggled loudly while he separated another section of curls carefully. His large hands moved with surprising gentleness as he twisted each puff into shape. Tiny colorful barrettes covered the counter beside him, organized by color because apparently Satoru had developed opinions about hair accessories.

He held up two clips seriously. “Strawberries or stars?” “Stars!” she answered immediately.

“Excellent choice!" he exclaimed, "you don't want everyone at school to eat'cha up from how much of a cutie you are.”

You leaned against the doorway watching them quietly. Your daughter giggling at his compliments while Satoru clipped the glittery yellow stars into her hair with intense concentration. It was still surreal sometimes seeing the strongest sorcerer alive crouched on the floor arguing with a four year old about accessories.

But Satoru genuinely loved this.

Loved every second of being a father.

He loved the domesticity of it all in a way that surprised everyone around him. Morning cartoons playing in the background. Tiny pajamas dragging across the floor. The scent of crayon wax and Doc Mc'Stuffins bath solution filling his home. He soaked it up like he had been starved for softness his entire life.

Maybe he had been. Afterall, the Gojo clan never gave him moments like this growing up.

He never knew his parents. No one ever sat patiently between his little legs, brushing through his hair while humming under their breath. There was no warmth tucked into the ordinary moments of childhood. No bonding over rushed breakfasts, school uniforms, or getting ready for family events. Those tasks were handled by an emotionally detached maid, efficient but distant. Long before adulthood, Satoru had already grown into someone powerful, isolated, and impossible to reach.

Now he overcompensated by pouring every ounce of affection into his little girl.

“Daddy,” she asked suddenly, “was Mommy pretty when you met her?”

Satoru paused mid twist and stared at her like she’d asked the most ridiculous question in human history.

“Pretty?” he repeated dramatically. “Your mommy was the prettiest person I’d ever seen. Still is too.”

You rolled your eyes from the doorway, but he continued, “the best part is that she looks just like you! You really didn't wanna twin with your old man here huh?" That made your daughter laugh so hard she nearly slid off the counter.

Satoru steadied her automatically with one hand before continuing her hair. The movement was instinctive now. Everything about fatherhood seemed instinctive for him despite how nervous he had been before she was born.

Sometimes you caught him staring at her when he thought nobody noticed. Usually during quiet moments.

Like when your girl was asleep against his chest with one tiny hand fisted in his shirt. Or when she laughed so hard she snorted exactly like you. Or during mornings like this when sunlight hit her bouncy curls and made them glow warm gold around her face.

Every single time, Satoru looked overwhelmed by love.

“She has your eyes,” he murmured softly while fluffing one of her puff ponytails carefully. “And your smile.”

“She's got your boundless energy though,” you added.

“That’s very fortunate for us all.” Your daughter tugged at the fabric of his pants, raising her arms, “I’m funny daddy!”

“You’re hilarious, babygirl!” Satoru corrected immediately before kissing the top of her head and spinning her around. Then he leaned back to admire his work proudly.

Two perfectly shaped curly ponytails with two framing braids in the front. Decorated with gold star clips, and all her curls were perfectly moisturized and shiny without being weighed down. Not a single coil left behind.

“Masterpiece,” he announced confidently.

Their daughter scrambled off the counter immediately and ran toward you. “Mommy look!”

You crouched down with a smile, adjusting one clip gently before nodding approvingly. “Wow! Daddy did a really good job.”

Satoru looked ridiculously pleased with himself over the praise. Honestly, you thought he enjoyed your approval almost as much as your daughter’s.

The little girl sprinted toward the living room after that, curls bouncing wildly while she searched for her toys. Satoru watched her disappear around the corner with this soft expression that still caught you off guard sometimes.

Then he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. “She looks just like you,” he said quietly.

You rested against him easily. “She looks like both of us, Toru.”

“I know.” His voice softened further as he watched their daughter disappear into the living room. She had his dimples and his nose, he could see himself in her easily enough, “but every now and then she looks at me and I swear I’m seeing you all over again.”

That made your chest ache.

Because Satoru remembered everything about you with terrifying accuracy. The hairstyles you wore as a teenager. The exact expression you made when annoyed. The first time he made you laugh hard enough to snort. He remembered it all like precious memories carved permanently into his bones.

Now pieces of you existed inside your daughter. And Satoru loved her so much it was almost frightening. From the living room came a loud crash followed by excited giggling. Satoru sighed instantly. “ You were right. Definitely energetic...”

You laughed while he walked away toward the chaos your little girl ensued. A second later your daughter had launched herself directly into his arms without warning. Satoru caught her easily, smiling while she wrapped tiny arms around his neck. Her curls bounced against his shoulder, little glitteryclips glittering beneath the sunlight.

And for a moment he just stood there holding her carefully against his chest.

Like he still couldn’t believe someone so precious belonged to him.

omg my studies have been killinggggggggggggg me like vro i was not built for this T0T ACCIDENTALLY DELETED OG POST UGHHH

tagslist-

Your mouth fell open. His did too.

Watching you slowly blink, eyes slowly narrowing into a squint as he panicked and pushed out some frantic explanation, holding his hands up as he tried to make it sound somehow less creepy, “Look, you just never know if the guy you pick already has like, fifty other kids, and what if your baby meets one of them and doesn’t know that they’re siblings and-” 

“You don’t want me to use a sperm donor because you think my hypothetical kid might accidentally fuck their sibling?” 

Okay, wow, that was worse. 

“I’m just saying you wouldn’t have to worry about that sort of stuff with me,” he continued, choking on the lump in his throat before clearing his throat. “You already know I have great genes.” 

And like he wasn’t already shooting himself in the foot just by speaking, he flexed his bicep with a stupid grin on his face, t-shirt straining against his muscles just for you to roll your eyes at him. 

“You’re twenty-eight,” you bluntly said, as if he had ever given a shit about being younger than you before. 

If he was the same age, would you see him differently? 

He had asked himself that too many times to count. Enough that the hurt that it came with had seeped into his bones and started to live there. Weighing him down as he wondered how you would treat him if he met you later, when you were both older, somewhere neutral. 

Would you want him the way he wanted you?

“And?” He whined, pouting as you resisted the urge to shut him down harder. “Doesn’t that mean I have, like, even better sperm?”

“Satoru, you’re gonna meet some gorgeous girl and get married, and then it’s just going to be weird if-” You started, shaking your head dismissively. 

“I’m not,” Satoru cut you off before you could finish coming up with weak excuses, like he’d ever met anyone he thought was half as gorgeous as you.  

You made that cute little face you always did when you wanted to argue with him but couldn’t come up with anything that would make him agree with you. 

“You don’t know that,” you said after a few short moments, leaning in closer, oblivious that the next whiff of your perfume was enough to make him lose what little reason he had left. 

“What if I pinky promise?” 

“That you’ll never have kids with anyone else?” You gawked at him, face scrunching up in confusion. “That’s literally ridiculous. You know I’d never ask you to-” 

“I was going to get a vasectomy in a couple years anyway,” he lied in a panic, shrugging his shoulders as if he didn’t really care when he had literally never cared more about the simple notion of some stranger’s sperm winning out over his. 

“You never mentioned that,” you quietly pouted back, like you were a little upset at the idea he never brought it up. But at least you believed it. 

“If I was even ever going to have one,” He paused, dragging his chair closer to the table to stretch over it and wipe some icing stuck to the corner of your mouth, dredging up something he knew without a doubt was the truth to make up for his bullshit. “I’d want it to be with you anyway.” 

You stared at him, his fingers still grazing against your mouth before he dropped his hand and reclined back in his chair, as if there was even a scrap of his cool left to recover. Shrugging his shoulders as he scrambled for something to say before you could call him an idiot for even suggesting something like that. 

“I could even pay for it,” he grinned like this was some grand gesture instead of him desperately clinging onto this chance. He didn't like to just throw money at problems – but he'd throw his entire dignity in the trash can if it meant when you were waddling around pregnant in six months, that it would be his baby you were carrying. “What else are best friends for?” 

Personally, he’d prefer to add father of your child (and future husband) to his resume, but he was used to accepting whatever you offered. 

“Satoru,” you said his name slowly, sounding out the syllables so he could hear the hint of scolding in them. But you didn't dismiss him. 

He smiled at you, and it was just as easy as it had always been. Comfortable. Cozy.

“It's not a big deal,” Satoru shrugged. “I want what you want.”

Even if it meant pulling down his pants and jerking off in a cup a few weeks later after you admitted that maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible to have the hottest guy you knew contribute his sperm to create the cutest child ever – not that you worded it exactly like that. He guessed his promise of paying all the bills may have also helped sway your decision. 

The whole thing was sorta scary, waiting and hoping for updates from there about egg retrieval and embryo viability, feeling like a loser checking his phone two hundred times a day when he wasn’t with you and showing up at your place with meals, trying to pick out foods that were good for someone doing IVF. 

You always let him in, even if you hummed and huffed that he didn’t have to do it. 

Satoru clung to claiming that he just wanted to be supportive.

Carrying you back to your bed after you crashed on the couch, tucking you under the blankets and cleaning up the dinner, stuffing the styrofoam boxes down in the trash can while he cursed himself for not just coming clean about his feelings fifteen fucking years ago. 

Sometimes he wasn’t sure you even saw him as a man. Didn’t realize he wasn’t the awkward, lanky preteen or scrawny kid he used to be despite the fact he’d been taller than you for over half your lives now. 

You didn’t even blink when you woke up to him sleeping with no shirt on your couch, the blanket deliberately draped at his hips to show off his sculpted abs, just yawning and walking past him, already showered and fully dressed, applying lip gloss as you scrolled on your phone. 

“Just lock the door after you leave,” you hummed, dropping your phone back in your purse and picking up your shoes before returning back to the couch to sit on top of his calves so you could slip them on.

A few years ago, he might have pretended to groan, to tease you for being on him, but now he just felt utterly hopeless at how hard he was savoring the connection, the weight of you on him even when it was totally platonic. Blinking sleepily and staring at your side profile as you bent over to slide your shoes on, preemptively picturing where you both might be in nine months. Would he be helping you get them on then? Putting his hand on your stomach and feeling his baby kick underneath your skin?

“Where are you going?” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes before he propped himself up on his elbows. 

“Today’s the day,” you casually said, and after a painfully long pause, it clicked. 

“Like, the day?” He gawked, adrenaline overwriting the exhaustion at the thought that you could be coming back home with his babies implanted inside you. 

“We don’t know if it will take,” you muttered. The cocky half of him wanted to remind you that the doctors had said that his sperm was high quality, tempted to turn it into a joke and break the tension, make some childish offer. But he held it in, reached out to brush his fingers against your arm. 

“How many are they implanting?” He asked, tracing a faint little heart over your skin you didn’t seem to notice. 

“Just one,” you answered with a little sigh, biting your lip to hide the hint of a smile curling up and betraying the hint of excitement under the surface you were trying not to feel. “A girl.”

And then you were standing back up, readjusting your purse over your shoulder as you searched it for your keys, despite the fact they were sitting on your kitchen counter instead. 

“Can I come?” He asked, wiping his sweaty palms on his slacks as you puckered your lips together, shuffling on your feet. Was it so fucking wrong to want to be in the room at least when he got you pregnant? 

“It’s not like-” 

“I could drive you,” Satoru offered, hyperaware of how hopelessly desperate his own voice sounded. “I have the day off anyway.” 

He didn’t, but he’d call out sick if he had to, fake a coughing fit and convince Ijichi to push back all his meetings or come in at absurd hours to catch up on stuff if he had to.

Satoru didn’t want to miss a single appointment. Didn’t want to let you do it alone – no matter how strong he knew you were. You never needed him. But he needed you. 

Craved being the guy you depended on. Trusted to help take care of you. 

You glanced back at him, tilting your head to the side with that cute little sigh of yours you always made right before you caved in. 

“Fine.”ᘏ⑅ᘏ

“Do you think she’ll like it?” 

For a man who was only supposed to be a sperm donor, Satoru Gojo was acting far more like a father. 

Your best friend standing outside your front door with shopping bags of baby stuff, stumbling through your threshold with that stupidly charming cheeky smile. And when he realized he was about to be scolded, he started dramatically sniffing the air as he peeked past you to see what you were cooking, eagerly changing the subject before you could comment on what he brought, “Whatcha making?” 

“How many different outfits do you think she needs?” You rolled your eyes as you eyed him suspiciously, sighing as you shut the door behind him. Satoru just laughed, already piling up everything on your coffee table as you self-consciously tried to pull down your t-shirt from where it was sticking to the swell of your stomach, threatening to ride up and show off your growing baby bump. Only five months in and barely fitting into any of your old stuff anymore, despite how many prenatal yoga classes you attended or midnight cravings you ignored. 

He looked as perfect as he always did. White hair tousled and the sleeves of his button-up rolled up on his forearms, veins sticking out as he glanced up at you with those irritatingly sparkly blue eyes. God, you couldn’t remember a single time you’d seen him look bad. 

Even when you were younger, you couldn't escape the effect he seemed to have on everyone else. It didn't help that your family worked for his, that you got a front row seat to watch him get everything he ever wanted. Hyper aware of all the differences in his life than yours, what world he'd been born into that you just happened to occupy. Only able to stare from the sidelines, the bottom row of the bleachers, pointedly aware that he occupied a certain position above everyone else. 

You’d grown up glaring as your other friends fawned over him, strangers approaching him in public to shove their numbers at him or shyly flirt while he smiled at the affection he was showered with. It wasn’t his fault. You didn’t even hold it against him, not when over time, you’d found yourself increasingly, um, fond of him.

 But you couldn’t just ignore who he was when it trickled down to every aspect of your own life. 

All the guys you started seeing never lasted long. 

Either assholes who cheated on you or dickheads who dumped you, both always citing how little they could stand Satoru, just insecure, you supposed, unable to tolerate your best friend and his sometimes annoying antics. He had a bad habit of showing up right when you were about to go on dates, swinging by late at night or bringing presents just because. 

You tried to explain that it was just how he was. Satoru had spent his entire life being spoiled and sheltered. Spoiling you in return was one of the few ways he knew how to show affection. And when he could drop a few bands a day without noticing so much as a tiny dent in his bank account, it wasn't like money or gifts meant anything to him. 

And here you were now, feeling like you were taking advantage of it anyway, single and pregnant while your best friend bought your (his?) baby teething toys and the most expensive car seat stroller combos, helping turn your spare bedroom into a nursery on the weekends while you reminded him (and yourself) over and over again that you didn’t expect him to do any of it. 

Satoru didn't just blur the lines. 

He buried them. 

Took a shovel and tossed so much sand over it that it was impossible to tell where they originally were. And after the first embryo was successfully implanted, once you went to the first scan and saw the tiny little blob that would be your baby, you seemed to be making meals for three instead of two most days when the man who helped make it insisted on coming over after he got off work nearly every evening.

Sometimes, he'd arrive with takeout or groceries, but he never showed up empty handed. 

“How's our, um, this little princess doing?” Satoru grinned after he corrected himself, walking over to squat down in front of you, tapping your stomach like he was trying to wake her up. 

“She keeps kicking,” you murmured, biting your lip as his palm abruptly pressed flat as if he was hoping to experience it for himself. His hand was warm through your thin shirt, his thumb subtly dragging a small semi-circle as you continued, “I didn’t get much sleep last night.” 

“Lay down,” he muttered, just as a faint flutter stirred in your stomach, the sensation of your baby moving around still alien and strange as you watched the slow smile spread up on his face as he felt it too. “I’ll finish cooking.” 

“You suck-” 

Satoru pressed one long finger against your lips before you could argue with him, shaking his head as he scoffed, “I’ve been taking classes.” 

“When?” You pouted, a hand on your hip as you racked your brain for when he’d even have the opportunity when you practically had to shoo him out of your place half the time. 

“Every other Tuesday,” he retorted – and then he was gently trying to guide you over to your couch, not stopping until you were sitting down and he was putting the remote in your hand. 

Begrudgingly flipping through boring movies, readjusting a pillow behind your back before you gave up and started sorting through the bags of stuff he brought with him. 

Blue dresses. Pink bows. Extra diapers and wipes. Swaddles. 

A two-pack of onesies featuring the words MOMMY’S ANGEL and DADDY’S PRINCESS embroidered across the chest. 

A small voice in your head rationally suggested that you should set some better boundaries. Tell him you weren’t going to put her in that second one when he was supposed to be more like a…rich uncle? Family friend? 

Well, something other than daddy. 

But some awful part of you sort of liked it.

Liked how much his attention was devoted to you, how you couldn’t exactly ever feel lonely when he was always around, always willing to step into whatever box he thought you needed from him. He didn’t complain. Never groaned or gritted his teeth and acted like you were too much. Always able to make you laugh and smile, holding your hair back when you were nauseous and holding your bags for you in public. 

Even if all of it was only platonic. 

You weren’t stupid enough to think his interest in you was romantic. 

He could pick anyone. Go out and come home with a girlfriend in two hours if he wanted to.

Satoru was simply excited to share this with you, at the idea of a little infant that might have his hair or his eyes, his ego probably ballooning and bigger than ever because you chose him to have it with. 

The one thing you could never afford was letting yourself have a crush on him.

Especially when his care right now was temporary. 

It would probably fade after your baby was born, once she was crying and crawling and required more than just trinkets and toys to thrive. You didn’t think he’d disappear. But he would move on, focus on his work or his other friends, return to his more spontaneous visits as he resumed his role as your best friend rather than baby daddy.

Which was fine. 

Completely, totally, fine. 

“Here you go, sweetheart,” Satoru hummed, handing you a warm bowl before clearing off a space on the coffee table for you to put it before rushing back to grab napkins and a drink for you to go with it. You stared at him. Struggling to ignore how sturdy his frame was, how handsome, how steady he’d turned out as he hurried around, casually rummaging through your cabinets to pick out a glass while he acted like he was perfectly at home here when his own place was probably three times bigger, your heart thumping a little too loud for your own comfort as you caught a glimpse of that cute crinkle by his eyes when he turned his head.

You loved him. 

As a friend. 

You were content to raise your daughter by yourself, made the decision to have her because you knew you could. 

But maybe you could enjoy his attention while you had it. 

Hold onto how things were before he got bored. 

And whatever this fluttering in your stomach was, the one that you couldn’t blame on the baby in there, it would pass.

ᘏ⑅ᘏ

Satoru only realized the depth of his own stupidity when he was realized just how fucking hard it was to stay best friends watching you waddle around swollen and seven months pregnant with his baby. Barefoot with powdered sugar dusting your fingertips, one hand casually resting on your stomach and leaving a print on your loose pajama shirt while you baked your favorite dessert, babbling about how badly you were craving it in between complaining about how much your back was aching. 

He’d known his pining was pathetic from an early age. 

Forced to acknowledge it post-puberty when you started going on dates and he had to resist the temptation to punch a wall and tell you that no one was good enough for you. Discomfort and anger crawling under his skin at the idea of you giving anyone else who obviously didn’t deserve you any of the time that should be his. 

And now, despite the (lack of) wisdom age had added, he was still just stuck staring at you with an open mouth like a moron as you glanced back at him, glowing no matter how much you complained about how awful you thought you looked. 

His pants had never been fucking tighter around you. 

Boner carefully concealed with one of your throw pillows, long legs stretched out on your couch as he pretended to scroll on his phone. 

Every day only seemed to get harder too. More of a struggle to shove down his feelings when you started to rely on him more. Leaning against his shoulder, holding onto his forearm, your fingers skimming over his skin as you started to casually cling to him the same way he always hung onto you. Asking him for massages, laying your head on his lap, playing with his hair when you walked by him. Your stare had started to stick to him more, catching you watching him when you thought he wasn't looking. 

Satoru had spent years dreaming of this easy domesticity with you. 

Walking through your door to find you already making a meal big enough to share, baking or singing to yourself, peeking out and smiling at him without even being surprised. Expecting to see him there. 

And still, he only ever got to sleep on the couch. 

Didn't get to hug you or hold your hand or kiss you at the end of the night. 

He wanted to invite you back to his place, see if you’d spend it with him if he changed up this new normal, but he was scared that you’d decline. That he’d fuck up this tightrope he was walking before he made it to the other side. 

Um, and maybe because he’d turned one of his own extra rooms from storage to a pretty, pink nursery too. Just in case you asked him to babysit, or uh, wanted any extra help with her. 

But there was a subtle edge to your behavior, your softness sometimes switching abruptly, going cold or sharp when least expected it, suddenly getting short with him when he got a little too close. Hormones, maybe? 

It wasn’t like he could ask without receiving a lecture that he shouldn’t blame your feelings on your hormones just because they didn’t match whatever he thought they should. 

“You’re quiet tonight,” you commented with a huff, turning on the timer on the microwave after you shut the stove. 

“Jus’ thinking,” he hummed, trying to avoid the urge to spill out his dirty secret. 

“About?” You tilted your head to the side, almost bumping into the baby swing he built last weekend as you walked back over to him, starting to bend over to try and lift one of his legs instead of just sitting on him like you used to. 

He patted his thighs, as if you would actually take him up on it, just to earn a dramatic hand on your hip, pouting hard. 

“You’re really making a pregnant lady stand?” You muttered dryly, jutting your bottom lip out further.

“There’s a perfectly good seat right here,” he teased, grinning as his hand reached out, leaning forward, about to gently graze against your waist when- 

You started crying.  

Big tears welling up in your eyes before he could so much as blink, your brows knitting together in frustration as your own fingers rushed to wipe them away. 

His mouth fell open, words automatically spilling out, “Sorry, I’ll move, I-”

“You’re an asshole,” you hissed, breath hitching as you started to turn away from him, and he was shoving himself up off the couch, hurrying to spin you around by your wrist only for you to yank your arm away from him. 

“What did I do?” He gawked, blinking hard and fast, panic seizing in his chest as he desperately tried to search your face for any sign. 

“You keep acting like-” You stopped yourself, just vaguely gesturing up-and-down at his body before you scoffed and buried your face in your hands. “I’m such a fucking idiot for thinking that this was a good idea.” 

“You’re not an idiot,” he argued, pulling your hand down so he could wipe away your tears himself. Dragging his thumb under your eyes and cupping your cheeks to force you to look at him. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“We need, like, boundaries, or-”

“Boundaries?” 

Okay, sure, boundaries were normal, needed even, in most relationships. But he’d be lying if he said the idea of you putting up walls and pushing him away with new rules didn’t make him want to vomit. 

“You keep treating me like I’m your girlfriend,” you said, eyes wide and wavering as you barely managed to meet his stare. “Like, this means something more-” 

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” 

He knew he shouldn’t have said it the moment he heard how it sounded out loud. Heard the sharp inhale you sucked in, how shattered it came out. “Stop-” 

“You mean everything to me,” he blurted out before you could break his heart, ready to beg, to barter, to do whatever he had to just so you would see it. 

“Don't say that,” you whispered, shaking your head as you tried to take a step back. “Not when you don't mean it.”

“I do,” he huffed, holding onto you as he again attempted to stop you from pulling away, from severing this connection. And somewhere in his panic, his body purged all the words his mind had been shoving down for so long. “Fuck, sweetheart, I love you. I've loved you my entire life and I will for the rest of it. I'll be anything you want me to be, shit, just don't shut me out.” 

“You love me,” you repeated, like it was ridiculous. 

“I love you,” he said it again anyway, his voice dropping low.

“You-” You stopped yourself, starting to breathe fast through your nose, biting your bottom lip before you continued, “If you're just trying to make me feel better-”

“Do you seriously think I'd say it and risk ruining us just because you're crying?” He asked, wiping away another stray tear from your soft cheek, managing to sound appropriately serious for the first time in his life. 

You swallowed hard, like you were suffocating on the truth now that it was out there. Fingers balled up by your side, fists shaking as you fought the reality Satoru had dropped on you. 

“I don't expect you to tell me that you love me too, just, fuck, just don't walk away from me, okay-” 

And before he could finish begging, you were grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull him down, his mouth still open when yours connected with it. 

You kissed him, soft, unsure, like you weren't certain or confident that this was the right decision. But you didn't stop even if part of you thought you'd regret it later. 

His own hands failed him, his brain freezing the second if processed the fact you were actually kissing him, stuck completely still as you soft lips lightly started to suck on his bottom one, his breath stolen and his heart straining to accept how fucking sweet this felt. 

But then your fingers went loose, started to let go of his shirt, and he snapped out of it. Tethering his hands in your hair, deepening the kiss before you could pull away and he'd have to hear that you changed your mind. That he lost his only chance. 

Satoru tried to show you with his lips. 

Tongue dancing across your bottom lip for entry, dragging over the ridges of your teeth, exploring your mouth and memorizing how it felt. Saved it in case he'd never be able to savor the experience again. 

And when a cute little moan slipped out as his chest pressed against yours, as your bodies connected, your baby bump pressed against his stomach and your free hand draped over his shoulder, he knew his boner was back. 

“Mmph, Sato-” you murmured when you finally pulled away for air. He was desperately trying to suck in the quickest breath he could just to kiss you again.

The most he managed was a few quick pecks pressed to the corner of your mouth before your palm pressed flat against his chest. 

“We should talk about it,” you reasonably said, despite how inclined he was to throw reason out the window and carry you back to your bed. 

“Do you want me?” He asked, sucking in a short breath, leaning down so his nose was nuzzling against yours. 

“I do,” you answered, your voice strained and tight as you reluctantly looked up at him, studying the shape of his lips. And maybe it was because he’d spent an entire life wrapped around your finger, building and molding himself to be the sort of man you wanted, that you needed, he knew what thoughts were swirling around in your head before you said any of them. “I’m just scared.”

Hearing it out loud still scared the shit out of him though. 

Knowing how close he was to having you – and how easy it would be to fuck it all up. 

“What can I do to show you just how serious I am?” He murmured, leaning in, lightly grazing his lips against your mouth again. 

You closed your eyes, held onto his shirt and let yourself melt into his chest. 

This kiss didn't last long though, not when the timer on the microwave suddenly blared out. 

“I, um, should check on that,” you muttered, and it was incredibly hard to let you go. To watch you slip from his hold again and walk back into your kitchen, some intangible thread tugging him towards you, unable to stay more than a few steps away from you while you opened the oven and sighed before you added a few more minutes on the timer. 

But you didn’t come back, didn’t speak up immediately. 

You were staring at your distorted reflection in the microwave, like you were silently attempting to convince yourself of something. 

Maybe to turn him down. 

Say that you were both always going to be better off as friends.

“Tell me what to do,” Satoru begged. 

“I don’t know,” you blanched. 

“Anything,” he started. “I swear, I’ll-”

“Shouldn't we take this slow?” You hesitantly asked before he could offer to put up a billboard professing his love or get down on his knees to propose, clinging onto the counter tight enough he could see the clear outline of the bones and tendons in your knuckles. 

“You're having my baby,” he pointed out, and you just pouted at him. 

“I know,” you muttered, mulling over how you wanted to word your concern. “But what if you're only doing this because of that?”

“Sweetheart,” Satoru started, a fresh pang of panic shooting straight through his chest. “I would want you whether or not the baby was mine or someone else's. I've loved you for so fucking long-”

“It's hard for me to accept that,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck. “I don't understand why you would pick me. You could have-”

“You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted. You occupy all my thoughts,” he breathed, his throat constricting as he did his best to confess. “Your glare. Your laugh. The way you defend me even when I'm a dick. How you indulge me even when I don't deserve it. Every morning, every night, every stupid meeting I get stuck in and when I'm in the shower. I've spent my whole life waiting for you to see me standing here and hoping for you.”

Another big tear welled up in your pretty eyes, one you quickly blinked away as your stare shined up at him. 

“Can you wait a little longer?” You asked, as if he wouldn't wait another ten, twenty, thirty fucking years holding onto this. 

“Of course,” he whispered. 

As long as you needed. 

He’d just hope it was a sooner rather than later thing. 

You wiped your cheeks, recollecting yourself before checking the oven again, pressing your lips together in a thin line as you put some mitts on and opened it to pull out the baking tray before reaching up to shut off the timer.

Satoru ended up where he always did. 

Stretched out in the corner of your couch, arm thrown around the back and pretending to pay attention to what was on TV instead of watching you in the corner of his vision. But this time, you snuggled up a little closer after you sat a plate down in front of him.

Curled up enough that your thighs were firmly pressing against each other, and slowly, his hand drifted down to cup your stomach. Just under the skin, feeling the faint flutter of his daughter kicking, or readjusting in there. Growing to hopefully be more like you than him, even if she would get stuck with half his DNA. 

“You’re warm,” you softly said, as if that was your excuse to melt into him more.

“Will you still let me spend the night?” He pouted, lips parting only for you to push a warm treat against them to shut him up. 

“On the couch?” You asked, watching him chew, chocolate probably smeared across his mouth before you asked something he only ever dreamed about. “Or in bed?” 

ᘏ⑅ᘏ

Satoru never stopped staying the night. 

And despite the fact he’d technically gotten you pregnant, you still had yet to have sex with him. But instead of him walking in hungry for your cooking, he was starving for you. Thighs hooked over his shoulders while he dragged his tongue up across your pussy, greedily lapping you up like it was his new favorite meal. 

You liked the way he kissed you when you woke up, his strong arms slung around your body, his soft mouth dotting your face like it was his favorite thing in the world. You loved the way he looked at you when he left for work, the warmth that seemed to radiate and wrap around you when he leaned down to caress your cheek and tell you that he’d call you at lunch. 

Somewhere along the way though, or more precisely around week thirty-eight, you started spending the night at his place instead, getting stretched out on his long fingers in his silk sheets instead of your cotton ones. 

You spent almost an hour chewing him out for the nursery he’d already set up there, dismissing his excuses because you both were well aware of the reasons why. 

He didn’t want to just be the donor. 

He wanted to be your baby’s dad. 

And when it came time to actually have your daughter, when your water broke a couple days past your due date and he rushed you to the hospital, you were the one to tell the nurses that was exactly what he was instead of playing pretend and ignoring what was right in front of your face. 

Letting him wipe the sweat from your brow and hold the cup of water to your lips, nearly breaking his hand by holding it so hard when it came time to push, hours of labor culminating in a little baby with your favorite set of blue eyes. 

She had your hair though, and he tried to say your smile too, peeling off his shirt right there in the room and ready to do skin-to-skin with her the second you said he could. 

If you hadn’t figured out you were completely and totally fucking in love with him, you knew the second you saw him cradling her to his chest, the gleam in his stare and the reverence in his trembling fingers brushing across her chubby cheeks. 

He had looked up at you with that lopsided smile, pride and adoration present in every line etched in his face. 

“I feel like the luckiest guy in the world,” he grinned.

And just a couple months of being with him had made you see how lucky you’d always been to have him. 

To have her. 

Even though you were pretty sure she inherited her dad’s personality. 

Specifically the loud and clingy parts. 

Always needing one of you to be carrying her, crying when you tried to leave her in the crib, refusing to be bottlefed half-the-time even when you were just feeding her what you pumped. Her crystalline stare welling up with fat tears if you dared to put her down on a soft mat for tummy time, lazily hitting her tiny feet against the ground instead of trying to roll or crawl.

All that baby proofing Satoru had spent hours on pretty much useless so far when she'd barely been outside of your arms or the baby carrier he proudly walked around with her in. He even started working from home once his paternity leave ran out, taking meetings with her still in the carrier, chatting with people on the phone or on video calls, something about the sound of his voice and the way he bounced her, always seeming to lull her to sleep. 

You had unofficially moved in with him, although you let him handle all the packing and unloading, rooms conveniently already set up like he'd always been holding that space for you, closet half-vacant until all your clothes were hung up by his. 

Boyfriend, best friend, husband, no title really needed to tag onto whatever it was the two of you shared. 

It was bigger than that. 

You were his now. 

And you didn’t want to deny it anymore. 

Besides, you'd done some laundry a couple days ago and found a ring box underneath his boxers in the sock drawer, so you supposed it would have a label soon anyway. 

If you were going to spend the rest of your life loving someone, it was always going to be him. 

You were an idiot for not seeing it sooner. 

But he never made you feel like one. 

He kissed you good night like it was the most natural thing in the world, half-draped across your body and skimming his fingers over your face before he curled up next to you in the dim bedroom, blankets tangled around your bodies. 

Falling asleep came fast when it was in his arms, but you'd begun to have one, or, uh, two problems when you woke up at four in the morning with a massive ache in your chest. 

In his quest to be the best father (and future husband), he'd taken over night feedings to make sure you slept, but despite his sweetness, your body wasn't on the same page. Or rather, schedule. 

Missing her night feedings had left you engorged. 

Tits swollen and milk stuck in the ducts, the usually soft flesh practically hard under the stretched skin, painful when you sat up and realized you had started to soak through your bra and shirt. You tried to peel both off of you, wincing at the wetness as your finger fumbled for the pump you left by the nightstand in the dark only to knock it off instead. 

“Sweetheart?” Satoru groggily spoke up, a big hand reaching out, half-patting your stomach in his sleepy state.

But then he was already shutting his eyes again, yawning and humming as he drifted back to sleep, your lips pressing together in a frustrated line as you swung your legs off the bed and bent over to grab the pump. 

Although, it wasn’t really much use when your ducts were too fucking clogged for anything other than a painfully slow drip to come out, the ache just getting worse as you begrudgingly switched on the lamp by your bed and bathed the room in warm yellow light as you put the pump back. 

“Satoru,” you whined, rolling over in bed and lightly shaking the pretty man drooling on the pillow next to you. He almost immediately stirred for real this time, sitting up and blinking before wiping the spit from the corner of his mouth, grunting as he got up, the low sound only making your thighs tense and press together. 

“Mm, baby?” He yawned as he stretched, running his fingers through his hair as his baby-food-stained sweatshirt rode up to show a sliver of his toned abs. 

“When did you feed her?” You half-whispered as his tired eyes shifted to his phone on the other side of him, briefly turning it on with a sigh. 

“Like, an hour ago?” He answered, blinking a couple times as his eyes returned to you – and then practically bulged out of his head at the realization your boobs were out. 

Mouth falling open in a pretty ‘o’, drool probably pooling inside it as he stared at how heavy they were hanging, tongue uselessly trying to form a coherent follow-up and some strangled sound escaping instead. 

“I need you,” you admitted just as another droplet of milk leaked out, starting to roll down your breast – but before it could make it more than an inch, Satoru was there, wrapping his lips around your areola and starting to suck before you could even get another sentence out. 

He pulled you closer, an arm slipping around your lower back, pulling you in as his tongue dragged over your hardened nipple, his other hand already reaching up to squeeze your other tit, groaning at how it felt under his palm. 

You gasped, a surprising surge of electricity racing down your spine as heat you hadn’t expected bubbled up to simmer in your core. Technically, you’d been cleared for sex, like, six weeks ago, but you’d been a little anxious about him seeing your postpartum body. 

Not sure if his feelings would be swayed after you carried his baby, if the stretchmarks or soft plush of your stomach would put him off. 

But the ravenous gleam in his eyes, the frenzied way his fingers kept fumbling to make sure you couldn’t slip away, you didn’t think anyone had ever wanted you as badly as he did right now. 

And before you could fully process it, your back was hitting the bed, pinned between his heavy body and his firm mattress, the sheets crinkling underneath you as he greedily drank. 

He looked delirious. 

Okay, probably a little bit sleep deprived from being in night feeding duty half the time, but he was drunk on you, letting out a lewd moan as he sucked hard on the hardened bud, desperately kneading into the other one with those thick fingers of his while something hard and huge dug into your thigh. 

Fuck.  

Why the hell was he that big? 

The size of him was on your mind as he switched breasts, eagerly slurping as he squeezed, trying to break up the clog with his thick fingers, pressing in and working into the skin, forcing more milk out as he tried to drain you. 

“Shit, angel,” he moaned, barely pulling away to glance up at you, the blue in his eyes swallowed up by his pupils as milk dribbled down the corner of his mouth. “You’re so sweet.” 

“S-Satoru,” you stammered, relief washing over you as he went back to drinking and managed to clear out at least one of the ducts, eyelashes fluttering as his tongue toyed with your still overly sensitive nipple. Your fingers were shaking as you tangled them in his hair, trying to guide him back to the other one, hyperaware of how sticky your skin was, some of the milk definitely leaking down onto the bed and getting on his shirt as he continued without a pause. 

“S’not fair,” he whined, fingers digging in again as he practically rutted his cock against your thigh. Hips rolling down to grind against you, his muscled thighs flexing with every rock of them. “How come she gets to drink this all the time and I don’t?”

“You can’t be serious,” you gasped, tugging at his roots to pry him back just to find that fucked-out look on his face, everything relaxed as he jutted out his bottom lips like he was willing to beg for more if he had to. 

“This is my new favorite drink,” he insisted, and before you could sputter out another protest, he was latched on again, relieving your other breast with that pretty mouth of his, massaging it until you were both moaning, your head falling back against the pillow as you gave in.

Gave it all up for him. 

Finding yourself arching your own back up off the bed, squirming and shuddering as he went to work on it, teeth skimming and scraping until your nipples were sore, swallowing your milk until your breasts almost felt empty – but you knew they’d fill back up sooner or later. Sooner, if he kept sucking on them like that as if he could telepathically communicate to them to make more. 

And even when they were nearly drained, he was running his tongue over your chest, cleaning you up like he was a goddamn cat. Taste buds dragging over your skin, running his fingered over your peaked nipples now, a surprised squeak pulled from you that made you both pause for a second, his blue eyes wide when they immediately locked onto your face.

Neither of you said anything. 

But his cock twitched, and a funny pulse shot down to your clit, and your mouth was opening to ask him something you’d been craving more than you could confess. 

“Do you want to fuck me?” You breathed, awkward, tense. 

Terrified he’d say no, no matter how irrational it was. 

But Satoru just smiled, climbing completely on top of you and caging you back in to caress your cheek, “God, you have no idea just how long I’ve been waiting for-” 

Your mouth crashed against his before he could even finish his sentence, your own impatience catching you by surprise, lips fitting so nicely in between his, and you wondered why it had taken you so long to take what was always yours. 

You could taste yourself on him, the faintly sweet milk on his breath, although it was a little weird mixed with the leftover mint from him brushing his teeth. He didn’t seem to mind though, eagerly shoving his tongue in your mouth, the now-damp fabric of his shirt pressed against your chest. 

One of you would definitely need to throw a load into the washing machine after this, strip the sheets down and change them after the mess you were making. 

But you couldn’t help but slip your hand down, sneaking underneath the band of his sweatpants and inside his boxers to feel his swollen tip, collecting the thick pre-cum already there and sliding it down his dick. 

Veins pulsing against your palm, your fingers delicately wrapping around his girth and starting to stroke as he made some guttural groan that made your stomach feel funny. Pure want searing through you, desire you weren’t used to handling or holding back now dealt to you in spades. 

Maybe it was because some small voice was trying to suggest that you were about to have sex with Satoru, a sliver of you thrilled at the idea of him needing you too. 

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, and it was probably the prettiest sound you ever heard. “M’gonna cum if you keep doing that.” 

“You’re not even in me,” you teased him. He growled at that, and before you could even giggle, he was pulling your hand back out of his pants, firm fingers gripping your wrist and pinning it above your head before you could make him snap. 

And then his other hand was suddenly helping spread your thighs further apart, easily able to move the thin fabric of your cotton shorts and lacy panties aside so he could shove two fingers inside your pussy to see how soaked you were. 

“Baby,” he immediately hummed the second his fingers swirled inside, one corner of his mouth curling up almost condescendingly while you huffed back at him. “I wasn’t even in you.” 

Dick. 

But it was hard to be hurt by him mocking you back when he was sliding his actual dick inside you barely thirty seconds later, the rest of your clothes and his quickly discarded so he could do what you'd both been dreaming about, his eyes scrunching shut as he slowly took it inch by inch. Savoring the stretch, the way his hands trembled as he touched you, his breathing heavy and uneven as he felt your walls squeeze around him. You might’ve complained at how long it was taking if you weren’t also having a hard time holding yourself together. 

Studying all those details of his face you’d fallen for, the shape his soft lips made when his features were all twisted up in pleasure, how his long lashes fluttered as he whispered your name like a prayer. 

Sure, you had sex before. Weren’t exactly a virgin by any means. 

But nothing was like this. 

No one was like him. 

Satoru was treating you like some alter he was born to worship at. Every movement deliberate, sucking in a sharp breath as he pushed through, filling you up until his cock was nestled against your womb, the pressure mind-melting as he tried to focus on your own body reacting to him. 

“I-is it too much?” He asked, like he wasn’t straining, his voice thin and airy. “Tell me if anything hurts.” 

Still concerned for you, still worried he might wound you. 

You nodded, heart thrumming wildly as his cock throbbed and all your sore muscles tensed around him. Hesitantly opening your mouth to reassure him, “I’m good. This is good.” 

Fantastic, actually, but his ego didn’t need that much of a boost. 

Satoru still lit up like you’d told him it was the best you ever had. 

“Thank fucking god,” he murmured, his head falling down so he could nuzzle his nose against your neck. Peppering your throat with kisses as he started thrusting, almost delicate at first, but quickly picking up the pace once he was confident he wouldn’t completely break you with his cock. 

Driving himself in faster, harder, both hands now holding up your hips, angle himself deep enough you could feel himself re-molding you to him. You were out-of-practice, and you could tell he was too, but his sloppiness was made up for with how eager he was, how earnestly his mouth and his fingers and his cock worked to make you feel good. 

“I love you,” he babbled, breathing hard and heavy into your collarbone, your breasts still leaking a little bit of milk onto his chest that he didn’t seem to notice. “I, oh fuck, I love you so much.” 

You were nodding, tracing your fingers over his broad back, his defined shoulder blades, holding onto him as your walls tried to squeeze and clamp down on him. The sex felt different, all your nerves suddenly more sensitive, everything burning and starving for more. 

“I-I love you too,” you gasped, an invisible weight lifted off your chest hearing the words leave your mouth. 

He made a noise that was probably loud enough to wake anyone else in the building, both of you freezing as your heads snapped back towards the door to see if it woke up your daughter down the hall. 

But then his thumb darted to your clit, rushing to make rough circles, his chest heaving with fast breaths as he tried to make sure this wouldn’t end without him making you cum. 

“My pretty girl, fuck,” he purred, sucking a spot he’d already nipped at above your tendon, the jolt it sent through you dragging you embarrassingly close to climax when it was combined with the patterns he was painting over your needy bud. The friction was intense, feeding something deep in your chest you hadn't realized was hollow before. 

Comforted by him coaxing you, crumbling bit by bit into his hand as his cock continued pumping inside you. 

“Always been your girl,” you half-whispered back, toes curling hard as your body tensed up again, lips staying parted as he pulled you right to the precipice. 

“Mine forever then?” Satoru asked, sounding ruined. 

“Forever,” you promised without really thinking, breath itching in your throat as his cock abruptly stalled, still buried deep. 

You were pretty sure he came first, but before you could open your eyes or get another word out, his thumb twitched and pressed down mid-motion and you were seeing stars right as he groaned and snapped his hips down. Too occupied with the pleasure rolling through your almost limp limbs, your nails scratching down his back as warm spurts of cum started coating your walls, leaking down your legs. 

“Shit, fuck, please tell me you came,” he hissed, his own eyes shut, sweaty strands of hair hanging down and sticking to his forehead as you stared at his glossy lips. 

“Mhm,” you murmured, blinking as he finally peeked his eyes open and took in the full sight of you. Breasts still sticky and swollen, his cum dripping down your thighs, bite marks probably staining your throat. 

“Will you marry me?” He bluntly asked, and you could only roll your eyes and laugh at him. 

“Ask me again later,” you muttered, sighing at the state of yourself and wondering if a late night shower would wake a sleeping baby. 

You guessed it didn't matter when her soft cry cut through the brief silence, both of you exhaling at the same time. 

“I'll get dressed and go get her,” Satoru preemptively offered, climbing off of you with a small yawn. You watched him pad barefoot over to the dresser, biting your lips as he pulled fresh boxers back on and rummaged through the other drawers for pajamas. 

“Um, Satoru?” You hesitantly spoke up as a thought nagged at you. 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“I'm not on birth control.”

reblogs + comments are always greatly appreciated <3

He shouldn't look, really, he absolutely should not, but his eyes don't know that, drifting down to the pretty swell of your breasts pushed out in a skimpy little lace bra that he was going to be thinking about long after you left, and his throat almost closes then and there.

"Here," He dryly choked out, his jaw clenching as he tossed you the shirt, dragging his attention down to where you discarded your dress.

"Thanks," You caught it, but barely made an effort to cover up your chest, your eyes following him as he bent over to pick it up, something that sounded close to a sigh escaping when he walked towards the door.

Suguru wouldn't crack. His composure couldn't. The only thing worse than you not being his was you not being in his life at all.

He could live with being in love with you. But knowing you didn't feel the same might kill him.

He didn't want a one-time thing, a single night spent in the sheets, but every part of you, every inch of your skin and second of your time. If you fucked him once just to say you couldn't be friends anymore, couldn't be anything, he didn't know what he'd do.

It was hard to know where the line was drawn when both of you had erased it so many times just to hastily scrawl a new one a little further back.

Carefully measuring out the laundry detergent and adjusting the settings on the washing machine before turning it on, the scent of your perfume and the wine clinging to him even after he turned away, glancing back down at the closed bedroom door. You were probably done changing by now, or close, at least.

He still knocked anyway, knuckles tapping against the wood, waiting for your reply.

"Can I come in?" Suguru called out, leaning against the door, trying not to think about what you looked like in his bed, the still image already burned in the back of his brain.

"Uh-huh," You hummed. Twisting the knob, he pushed it open, his stare locking onto you before he could even really process what he was seeing.

You were not done changing.

The hooks of your bra weren't even properly clasped, a tiny little thong hooked over your hips, your back to him while you rummaged through his nightstand. Something was in your hands that he couldn't see.

You glanced over your shoulder, a cute little smirk plastered to your lips that he wanted to kiss off of you, twist into a gasp, a moan of his name. "Hi."

"Hi," He echoed, low and gravelly, one corner of his mouth curling up to match yours.

You knew what you were doing.

And he was so tired of pretending he didn't.

"Say cheese," You giggled, holding up an old camera of his, finger hovering over the shutter while he folded his arms across his chest, his mouth set in a thin line even when you snapped a photo.

"Hand it over," He huffed, his focus straining to stay on your face while you walked over to him, bare feet padding across his floor until you were close enough to push the camera against his chest. The words were on his tongue before he could second guess saying them. "My turn."

The blush coloring your face made him feel warm, the sudden hints of shyness bleeding through when you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, like you just remembered how little you were wearing, how close he was.

"Scared?" Suguru mocked, giving you an out he hoped you wouldn't take.

"N-no," You stammered though, a crease forming between your furrowed brow as you protested.

"Back on the bed then," He murmured, wondering if you'd pose for him, if this would be the only picture you'd let him take of you tonight.

You hesitantly perched yourself back on the end, glancing down at yourself then back up at him, swallowing hard as you tried to collect your confidence again. Scooting back, parting your legs just enough that he caught a glimpse of the small damp patch on your panties, chuckling at the realization you were more worked up than him.

"More," He instructed, watching the way your lips parted and froze, how slowly your limbs started to move.

He sighed, sitting the camera down on the mattress next to you before sliding his hands over your soft thighs, spreading them for you, pretending your little gasp at the contact didn't make his cock practically jump in his boxers.

"Lay down for me, okay, pretty girl?" Suguru requested, softer this time, and you nodded, listening as you laid back, your body stiff as it sank down on his comforter. Only starting to relax once his hands slipped higher, the feeling of your bare skin under his palm only fueling the burning need he'd been suppressing for so long.

Hooking two sturdy fingers under the band of your panties and slowly peeling them down your thighs, taking his time and waiting for some squeak of his name to leave your mouth, but you just watched him back, biting down on the inside of your cheek.

Once your underwear hit the floor, you hesitantly shifted, opening yourself up for him. "Like this?"

Suguru wasn't sure he was going to make it out of here with his sanity in tact.

Step two?

He was going to fuck you until you admitted you'd been waiting for this just as long as him.

"Look at me," He quietly said, picking the camera back up to hide the hunger in his gaze as he peered through the viewfinder at you.

Your unsure stare reflecting his own desperation, lashes fluttering as you tried to decide what face to make.

He could help with that.

Returning one hand to the inside of your thigh, tracing a soft path up to the slick on your skin as placed his hand over your entrance, his thumb dipping just barely in to the knuckle while he watched your face for every tiny flicker in your expression. Entranced by how easily he made you squirm, your pretty pout like you wanted more and knowing he wouldn't give it to you unless you asked.

And click!

Of all the candids he'd taken over the years, the collection of your smiles and scoffs saved in photo albums and in his phone's camera rolls, he knew that this would be his favorite.

"Sugu-" You started, the uneven rise-and-fall of your chest only drawing his attention the strap of your bra slipping down your arm.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" He breathed, stuck staring at the sharp edge of one of your canines was tugging on your lower lip, the glimmer in your eyes at how intimate the nickname suddenly felt despite how many times he called you that before.

"Are you sure?" You slowly enunciated every syllable, straining to speak as his thumb dipped deeper. Trying not to give away how much he was affecting you, like he couldn't feel the muscles pull tighter, see the twitch of your hips as they fought to buck up and force him in more.

"Always have been about you," Suguru simply said, pushing his palm down over your clit, watching you gasp at the sudden pressure, eyes fluttering closed as you harshly sucked in a breath.

"God," You hissed.

"Take your bra off," He instructed, and you listened, struggling to prop yourself up enough to reach around with one hand and fumble to undo the clasp, throwing it off with a clatter to the floor.

Fuck.

The way your breasts bounced as you moved, how the buds of your nipples were already perked up and hard, just begging him to roll his tongue over them, to pinch and grope and hold. Mark your chest and your neck with enough kisses to erase the fact that anyone else had ever touched them before him.

He wanted to be the last man who would.

How could he not when you were looking at him like you needed him?

"You wanna tell me what you want?" He hm-ed, slipping his thumb back out, the slick pad dragging up to trace a ghost of a circle over the swollen bud while you whined at the abrupt absence.

"You, please," You whimpered, and he didn't think he'd ever been this hard before. "S-Sugu, I wan' you."

It took every ounce of control not to pull his cock out and fuck you until you cried that out again and again, until pretty tears were collected in your eyes and all you could do was whimper.

He slowly slotted two fingers inside, the stretch making you shudder, thighs struggle to resist the temptation to close on his hand.

He clicked his tongue, once, twice, three times.

"Keep them open for me, baby," He teased, and you just pushed out your bottom lip, weakly nodding as all your muscles tensed again, muscles straining to stay in place when he crooked his fingers all the way in.

"Fuck, fuck, god, there." Your cute moan made his head spin, how your breath almost stuttered every time you sucked it in just for him to immediately force it back out, skin he used to try so hard to avoid staring at in swim suits now completely bare in his sheets.

Pumping his fingers in-and-out, the filthy fucking sound of how wet you were for him ringing his his ears, how right it felt to have you squeezing desperately around him, to be the one pushing you closer and closer to cumming on his fingers.

"That's it, pretty," He softly said, feeling you throb at his low voice, pausing to test it out again. "Come on, breathe."

You tried, sucking in a small breath and looking at him with glossy eyes, silently begging him to keep going.

"Use your words, sweetheart," Suguru purred, swiping his thumb back over your sensitive clit and you shivered.

"Please let me cum," You begged out loud this time, trembling at his touch.

He chuckled, dark and low, slotting his fingers back inside, already trying to memorize which spots made you whine louder, thrusting in, out, in, out, until-

"Suguru."

His name ripped from your throat right as his fingers found the spongy spot in the back, fingertips pressing against it just enough for you to cry out his name a second time, your legs snapping shut as you grinded up against his hand.

"Go ahead, baby," He murmured, letting you rut against his palm for extra pressure and friction, readjusting so his thumb was massaging circles over the swollen bud. "C'mon, cum."

And fuck, he never thought you'd looked more beautiful than right now - lashes fluttering, pretty lips parted as your back arched off the bed, his fingers buried knuckle-deep in your cunt while you came.

"Look so pretty like this f'me," He promised, his thumb rolling over your clit while you blushed and squirmed, still trying to catch your breath when he didn't immediately pull out.

"S-shut up," Your voice was small as you stammered.

"Can I take another photo?" He teased, slipping his slick fingers out, and popping them in his own mouth, needing to taste you on his tongue.

The image of him cleaning the ring of white off his fingers seemed to make you more flustered, your glossy stare searing through his heart.

"You want to?" You swallowed hard.

He climbed on top of the bed, pulling his fingers out with a pop! and grazing over your lower lip with his thumb, caging you in under his broad frame.

"That a yes?" He hm-ed, and you nodded, letting him tug your mouth open. He pushed the same two fingers that had just been in his mouth into yours, your tongue swirling over his knuckles, sucking softly and peering up at him with those pretty eyes.

"Mhm," Your muffled voice purred back.

He fumbled for the camera, holding it back up and hovering his finger over the button as you met his stare through the viewfinder, your own hand reaching up to hold his and push his fingers in deeper while he snapped the photo.

"My pretty girl."

His his his.

Pulling out his fingers while he leaned over to deposit the camera on the nightstand, your lips still open, waiting for a kiss or about to tease him for a sentiment so silly, but a soft smile curled up.

"Yeah, yours."

Suguru Geto was in love. Something he always knew, but only existed in the loops of his mind, the quiet score of his life, playing in the background of every scene. But this, with you here, it was loud. In every look and touch, in every breath he exhaled, the atoms crackling in the air between your bodies.

"I need to fuck you," He heard himself say, hoarse and thick with something caught between desperation and desire.

"Oh yeah?" Your airy little giggle was abruptly cut off with his mouth colliding against yours, wondering if his tasted like wine or you as he sucked softly on your lower lip.

Your hands were struggling to pull his shirt up, only breaking the kiss to shove it up and over his head, your warm palms skimming over his muscles and tracing over each ridge and curve like you'd thought about touching him half as much as he thought about touching you.

"Sugu," You giggled again, letting him pepper your cheek with kisses, his mouth leaving hungry sucks in a line down your throat, marks you'd probably have to wear a scarf or makeup to cover at work in a few days.

He really couldn't stop touching you. Caressing your face and groping your breast and tracing your collarbone and trying to find an excuse to catalogue what every inch of you felt like under him.

"Mm?" He barely paused, feeling your delicate touch start to tug down the zipper of his jeans, the rustle of you unbuttoning them next. He wrapped his mouth around one of your nipples, groaning softly as he dragged his tongue over it as you managed to slip your fingers underneath his jeans and the band of his boxers to feel how hard he already was. Swiping your fingertips over his leaking tip to collect the pre-cum there and wiggling back out to bring it to your lips for your own taste.

His throat went dry.

More than dry. Actually, it felt like someone stuffed fucking cotton balls down it and his pants suddenly felt two sizes too tight as you dragged your tongue over your fingertips and batted your lashes at him.

"I thought you needed to fuck me," You reminded him with the sort of soft sigh that made him dizzy.

He was pushing off his plush mattress to finish what you started, discarding his jeans and boxers in one go, his composure not just cracked but crumbled into a million little pieces he couldn't clean up, the need turning him into the kind of man who couldn't care less about appearances or control if it mean he could fuck your brains out enough that you'd forget about all of that too.

His cock was practically pink, swollen and hard, swinging up to smack against his dark happy trail and muscles, your eyes getting even wider, glued to the thick length.

"Um, S-Sugu," You stuttered, and it was cute to see you lose your own cool, scooting back higher on the bed and propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Uh-huh?" He wryly cocked his head to the side as he climbed back on top of you, pulling you down by your hips as your head fell back on his pillow. Spreading your legs back open, glistening and gorgeous and all his.

"Kiss me again," You quietly requested, and he was more than happy to oblige.

Returning his lips to your own to press a tender kiss there while his tip nudged against your opening, your body jolting when he pinned you down with his weight. Slipping one hand behind your neck to deepen the kiss, his tongue tracing the ridges of your teeth while his other hand held your waist, your wrists wrapping around his neck while you moaned in his mouth, unable to do anything but grind up where his cock was practically twitching against your clit.

Getting more desperate by the second, your muffled moan turning into a whine, bucking up harder to chase your high from earlier.

"Put it in," Your voice was a strained whisper in-between kisses, rolling your hips up again.

"Say please," Suguru taunted, kissing your frown away before he could even really form.

"Please."

He was letting go of your waist to grab the base of his cock, pushing the first few inches in and watching your body tense and stiffen around him, your thighs trying not to close as he pushed past the first ring of resistance, the gasp you attempted to stifle not going unnoticed.

"You okay, baby?" He paused, your body squeezing him sinfully before he hadn't even quite made it halfway in.

"You're, um, bigger, than I imagined," You choked out, and he wasn't sure if it was his ego or his dick that got fucking bigger hearing you admit you imagined him at all.

"It'll fit," He murmured, barely containing the urge to bottom out already, taking his time stretching you out, molding you to each vein and ridge. "Promise I'll take care of you."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, locked them there with your heels digging into his back, and the feeling of your soft thighs against his skin, the squeeze of the muscle had him burying himself in fully before he could stop it.

"Shit, Suguru, o-oh, oh," You mewled at him, nails scratching at his shoulder blades while you buried your face into the crook of his neck, moaning into his skin, teeth nipping at his collarbone.

He kind of hoped you would bite him. Leave little indents of your teeth on his skin so he could run his fingers over it in the morning.

"Fuck," He murmured, stalling for a second just to appreciate how it felt. The warmth of your body trapped under his, the taste of you still on his tongue while his cock was snugly sheathed inside you, raw and-

Shit, he wasn't wearing a condom.

You hadn't asked him to. And to be honest, he didn't even think he had one. It's not like he'd been seeing anyone recently or even considered the possibility he might need one tonight.

It would probably be fine.

He could just pull out or-

"Baby," Your voice, so needy, distracted him.

Suguru's brain shut off.

All higher reasoning had been abandoned, replaced only by the thought of making you cum again (and again).

Sliding out just to shove himself back in, gentle thrusts growing faster, harder with every one of your whines and broken rasps of his name, your hands running over his back and your mouth on his throat. Eventually un-hooking your legs from his hips to pin your thighs to your chest, angling himself to hit that same spongy spot he had before, half-incoherent murmurs whispered into your skin of how beautiful you were, how badly he wanted you, needed you.

And you were nodding back, tears brimming at your lashes and moaning his name, offering quiet little swears that you belonged to him like it was a secret meant for the two of you to keep.

"Oh, t-there, fuck," You whimpered, his cock practically grinding against your cervix as his hips smacked against your skin, planting another open-mouthed kiss on your lips while you both struggled to stave off your climax. Neither of you wanted it to end. "Suguru, m' so close."

"I know, baby, I know," He groaned, barely holding himself together, all the carefully assembled pieces of his life about feeling like they were about to fracture the second his restraint snapped.

There was no going back after this.

No mask he'd be able to wear now that he knew what this felt like. Knew what you looked like pinned under him in the filthiest fucking mating press imaginable, fucked-out and filled-up by his cock slamming again and again while his thumb made messy circles over your clit, rolling and pinching it just to see what sort of noises he could pull out of you next. Especially not after knowing what face you made when you finished, your shattered gasp and your glazed-over eyes focused solely on him and fuck-

Fuck.

He cumming before he could stop himself, your body wrapped up so warm around him, the delicious squeeze like you wanted to draw out every last fucking drop, painting your insides white before he even had enough brain power to start to pull out, but by then, only the last few drops were left to leak onto your thighs. Both dazed, blinking and breathing, his cock still hard in his hand while he stared down at his seed dripping out of you.

You were probably on birth control.

Probably.

Suguru reached over to snag the camera off the nightstand, one hand still pinning your thighs down while the other held the camera back up.

"Say cheese."

Step three?

Show up to your apartment after you'd been avoiding him for what? Two months?

Work stuff, you said, already made plans, you bluffed, feeling sick, you excused.

You hadn't left his place upset - no, you showered and practically stayed in his bed until you had to go to work on Monday. Kissed him on the lips and brushed his bangs out of his face, but when he replayed the 36 hours of heaven, none of the words exchanged had technically been confessions. Or at least, nothing that would put a name to whatever the two of you were now.

It's not like you hadn't gone a couple weeks without seeing each other in person. But this was getting ridiculous - and exactly what he'd been worried about in the first place. He knew you were probably overthinking it, probably just as worried as he was that it'd screw everything up, judging by the still-constant stream of texts you sent him every day.

But he couldn't take it anymore - close enough to just calling it like it was and asking you out officially if it meant you'd stop whatever this was. He'd spent more nights by now fucking in fists to the photos he'd taken of you, painfully-aware of how much better the real thing was.

He could tell by the sound of some shitty reality show playing too-loud through the door that you were definitely home, but you didn't answer the first time he knocked. Or the fourth.

By the tenth, he was flipping through his keys to find the spare one to your place, his text messages to you left unread as he turned it in the lock, calling out your name as he stepped inside. No answer.

Panic had started to prick at his nerves, glancing around to see your stuff scattered around like you usually left it as he crept through your empty kitchen and living room. There weren't any dishes in the sink though, just a few empty packs of crackers, a small trash can by the couch, a blanket thrown over the side and a crushed pillow like you'd just been there. He heard it then - the sound of retching.

Shit. You were sick.

He followed the noise down the hall into the bathroom, the door already cracked open, softly saying your name as he approached so he wouldn't surprise you, but you coughed again, glancing over your shoulder clearly startled anyway.

"What are you-" You weakly rasped, a few stray hairs plastered to your forehead with sweat, tired circles around your eyes before you got sick again. He hurried to hold the rest of your hair back with one hand, the other rubbing little circles on your shoulder blade.

"Hey, it's okay," He murmured, concern replacing everything else he'd been preoccupied with when he showed up. "I was worried about you."

Something that looked like fear flashed across your features when you finished and peeked back over at him.

"Suguru," You slowly said his name, and just speaking sounded like it must hurt.

"Come on, want me to carry you back to the couch? I can go pick up some medicine for you, whatever else you want too," He offered, his thumb rubbing over your your shoulder blade in comforting half-circles. You didn't immediately answer, a small frown still stuck on your face. "You been to the doctor yet?"

"Suguru," You said his name again, more serious this time and he froze.

"Yeah?" He swallowed hard, and you refused to meet his stare.

"I'm pregnant," You murmured, so quietly that was barely audible over the bathroom exhaust fan.

His brain stopped working.

His body too - stuck in place, his thumb still pressing down on the tense muscles of your back.

"You're-" He started, then stopped himself. Each word forming its own separate thought, struggling to piece each of them together when weight of them all combined threatened to crush him. "Is it my baby?"

Fuck, it had to be.

You nodded, just a small bob of your head, and he could barely blink.

Baby. A baby. Yours and his.

"Don't hate me," You whispered sheepishly, shoulders shrinking together. "But I want to keep it."

"I could never hate you," He hoped it sounded reassuring, straining to keep his own happiness in check, struggling to be steady the way you clearly needed him to be. "Whatever you want, I'm here for you. And our baby."

"You mean it?" You turned, just enough that he was able to tug you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you.

"Promise." He pressed a kiss against your hair, cradling you closer.

Your breathing was still shaky, sniffling a few times before your arms wrapped around his waist, face pressed against his shirt.

"Have you been to the doctor yet?" He asked again, although it had an entirely different meaning now, one that still hadn't sunk in all the way yet.

"I called, after, um, I got the positive test," You talked into his chest, voice muffled but you refused to pull away either. "My first appointment isn't for another two weeks."

"I'll go with you," He muttered.

"You don't have-"

"I want to," Suguru chuckled. "Let me take care of you, okay?"

"That's kind of how we ended up here," You reminded him, and he didn't have to see your face to know you were pouting.

He still laughed though, because he'd still do it again.

"Want me to make you something to see if you can keep it down?" He decided to shift the subject, rubbing your back in long, soothing strokes, content to play doctor or nurse (or husband) or whatever role you wanted from him.

Playing chef while he made you something warm, masseuse when he rubbed your back while you curled up next to him in bed, and boyfriend when you finally fell asleep, slipping out of your room to complete the chores that had started to pile up that you'd been too exhausted to do.

It was the least he could do when all your energy was already being devoted to his baby.

By the time he finished and crept back into your bedroom, you were still dreaming, the blankets kicked off of your body. The bed creaked as he climbed back in, settling next to your warm body.

His hand slipped down your side, readjusting so his chest was pressed against your back as his fingers drifted slowly over your stomach, just beneath your belly button, trying to picture it.

Would the baby be a boy? Or a girl?

A little mini-version of you running around, maybe with his eyes or hair?

You were already everything he ever wanted. Anything extra was just icing on top.

Step four?

Convince you to move into his place before the second trimester was over, it was bigger, anyway, had a spare bedroom he'd been using as a home gym he already started converting into a nursery. Spending the weekends building baby furniture and taking you out for dates disguised as shopping, buying little onesies and toys mostly so he could insist on treating you to lunch or dinner afterwards.

It was easier than he expected.

What wasn't?

Convincing you to marry him.

You were already carrying his child. Pretty and pregnant, the cute swell of your stomach you tried to hide under flowy dresses and oversized sweaters making his heart throb in his chest every time he saw it. His mouth would go dry, his eyes stuck staring if he caught you in the middle of changing, even when you shyly tried to turn away. Only having sex in certain positions where you could try to avoid letting him see it, although it usually ended up with him flipping you over on your back or pulling you on top.

"We're going to be late," Suguru sighed, throwing on a sweater from the closet.

"I just need a few more minutes," You pouted, halfway yelling from the bathroom.

He crossed over the bedroom, pushing the bathroom door open with two fingers so he could poke his head through. You were frowning at yourself in the mirror, readjusting your dress, like it'd make it any less obvious you were pregnant. Other clothing items were already discarded across the floor.

"Baby," He softly said, wrapping his arms around your waist, running a hand over your baby bump while the other slipped up to cup your swollen breast starting to spill out of your bra. Despite your insistence otherwise, your discomfort with your changing body, he still tried to offer to take you out to buy stuff for you instead of just the baby. "You look beautiful."

You did.

Everything in him ached to touch you constantly, and maybe it was protective or possessive or whatever you wanted to call it, but he hated that you wanted to hide it, the physical proof that you were his.

He wanted everyone to know it, wanted to slide a ring on your finger and have family photos on the fridge because you were carrying more of him with you now than just his heart.

You scowled at him in the mirror.

"I look pregnant," You muttered, like it was a bad thing.

"Yeah?" He chuckled, tracing the subtle curve of your stomach with his thumb. Twenty weeks. That was halfway there, wasn't it? He'd read more than a few parenting books in his spare time - looked up the latest articles on pregnancy and what to expect. He'd pour over the packets you left from the prenatal appointments with, asked off for each one in advance, absolutely refusing to let you go alone.

"I hate all my clothes," You huffed.

"You hated them before you were pregnant," Suguru sighed, pulling you closer and leaning down to plant a soft kiss against your throat. "You should probably wear something else though. Aren't they doing an ultrasound today?"

He phrased it like a question even though he knew they were.

You frowned again, wiggling away from him to slip out of his grip and walk over to the dresser, yanking out a pair of sweatpants.

"Everything fits weird," You complained, pulling your dress up and over your head, and Suguru stared, feeling the way his own jeans started to fit too tight at the sight of your exposed skin.

"We can go shopping for some new clothes after the appointment," Suguru absentmindedly said, still memorizing the pretty outline of your body.

He could kiss you, offer reassurance after reassurance that he did want you, but you were reluctant to believe him.

Your foot was still anxiously tapping the floor of the waiting room when you arrived, gripping his hand like it was a lifeline, your last tether stopping you from giving into the stress.

"It's gonna be fine," He leaned down to murmur in your ear, barely able to squeeze your hand back with how tightly you were holding it.

"What if it's not?" You were panicking, your other hand protectively placed over your stomach like you were shielding it from the rest of the world.

"Then we'll figure it out together."

His answer didn't seem to calm you much, the little circles he rubbed over your knuckles only making your foot tall a little slower.

"They keep looking at you," You eventually craned your neck up to whisper in his ear, frowning even harder than you had when you first walked in.

"Who?" He leaned down to whisper back.

"The other moms," You pouted, cutting a glare over to a woman who was, in fact, staring. She tried to turn away, but not before you both caught her blush.

"So?" He had to resist the smirk that wanted to creep up, lest he faced your wrath too. Like he could ever want anyone else when you were sitting next to him in the waiting room because his baby was growing inside of you, although this jealousy was something he probably would've killed to see you show over him six months ago.

"I'm probably going to be prying them off of you at the playground in a couple years," You huffed, and he couldn't help but chuckle picturing that.

But before you could focus your frown on him, a nurse called out your full name, his own forming at the reminder he was barely here as a boyfriend, that his baby might not even have his last name either.

He insisted on helping you stand, a hand on the small of your back even when you didn't really need it yet, following you through the hall and listening to you answer the same questions they always asked at every appointment until they led you to the small room that branched off the main hall. The lights were dimmed down already as he helped you lay back onto the table, the paper crinkling while you readjusted. He pulled the chair against the wall closer, slipping his hand back on yours while the nurse left and reassured an ultrasound tech would be there in a few minutes.

"Last guesses," You mumbled, chewing on your lower lip, breathing too fast. "Boy or a girl?"

"Girl," Suguru replied, although he didn't think it mattered much. Not as long as it was yours.

He did like the idea of the baby being a girl - if she had your eyes and your smile.

"I guess I'll go with boy then," You spoke quietly, eyeing the machine next to you. "I hope our baby looks like you either way."

Suguru didn't expect the way your sentiment made him feel - his heart practically stuttering as the words left your lips. Something squeezing tight in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.

But there were two sharp knocks on the door and suddenly it was swinging open, a peppy woman in shrugs stepping in with cheery greetings, waving and taking a seat on the other side of you to get started. Asking questions about names you had in mind and if you wanted to know the gender while she got set up, and it was silly, but it was like he had a crush on you all over again, watching you chat about the baby, how your eyes lit up just to get sheepish and almost embarrassed when you looked back at Suguru to find him staring.

It didn't take long for you to be slowly pulling the band of your sweatpants down, tissues stuck under it to keep the gel from getting on your clothes while you held up your sweatshirt high enough for her to spread the gel over your stomach, pressing down hard with the wand as the image pulled up on the projector. Taking measurements and checking body parts until she paused right as the baby turned.

"You see that?"

Not really.

"Sorta," You squinted, trying to squint and figure out what it is.

"Looks like you're having a girl!"

And all the earlier anxiety had dissolved, melted into the shy smile on your lips when you glanced back at him, your warm palm giving him a quick squeeze and an excited gleam in your eyes.

"We're gonna have a daughter," You talked so quiet, so soft, like you were still holding your breath.

A daughter. You voice, those words played on repeat the drive home, while you traced the outline of your baby's face on the roll of ultrasound photos you got sent home with.

"Suguru, are you even listening?" You snapped him out of his thoughts, the idea of what you'd look like with a little girl swaddled up in your arms, already planning on taking you out shopping again tomorrow for more baby outfits than any kid could actually need.

"Sorry, honey? What?" He apologized, placing a palm on your thigh and rubbing it while you hummed.

"I asked what you thought of the name Kiyoko," You repeated, setting the photos down on your lap to pull out your phone and probably look up lists of baby girl names.

"That's pretty," He hummed, mostly just enjoying hearing your enthused chatter next to him.

"Or Yumi?" He caught a glimpse of you with your eyebrow arched up as you asked, your attempt at a serious expression falling flat from the thrill you couldn't hide.

He never thought he'd be able to love another girl as much as you - but he guessed his daughter was the only exception.

It wasn't until he started to climb into bed next to you that night that he realized you might not know that.

"Um, Suguru?"

There was something off in the sound of your voice, how hesitant you were to roll over and face him.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" He readjusted, propping himself up on his side as he brushed your hair out of your face.

"Are, um, you," You paused, frowning as you restarted your question. "Do you think you'll-"

He guessed you were giving up on whatever you wanted to ask as you groaned and buried your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Sorry, just, pretend I didn't say anything," Your voice was muffled, clinging to him, fingers wrinkling his shirt and forcing it to ride up higher until a thin strip of skin was exposed.

"You sure?" He stroked your hair, returning your hug as he pulled you in closer with one strong arm.

"Yeah," You huffed, wiggling free and rolling over till you were between his legs.

He was about to slip his hands under your arms to tug you back up, but then you let one finger skim under his boxers, looking up and batting your eyes at him and he paused, the question he was about to ask dying on his tongue.

Yours seemed to have an idea of it's own.

Fingers ghosting over his dark happy trail while you bit your lip, slowly tugging down his boxers just enough to pull his cock out, already hard from watching you undress and ditch your daytime clothes for a thin slip earlier that hugged your swollen breasts before you'd crawled into bed.

"This for me?" You hummed, running your fingers over the thick vein pulsing along the side while he sucked in a breath, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile on its own.

"Always," He murmured, the lump in his throat bobbing as you dragged your tongue along the length of him, mouth slowly wrapping around the tip.

God, it wasn't fucking fair.

How could he control himself when every part of you felt so good?

Head falling back on the pillow, jaw clenched as you slowly took him in inch-by-inch, swirling our tongue over him and down across the vein, traced the ridges until he was pressed up against the roof of your mouth, bumping into the back of your throat.

His hand grabbing your hair to help guide you, careful not to make you gag or bruise your throat, your fingers wrapped around his base to stroke what you couldn't fit in. Your moan when he pulled your hair harder than he meant to almost made him snap them and there.

Opening his eyes was his mistake.

He wished he could take a photo of this, the bob of your head and the way you peered up at him so pretty, his cock throbbing in your mouth and how eagerly your mouth softly sucked on him.

He barely pulled out before warm spurts of cum shot down your throat, meaning to cum on his own hand, but it didn't quite work. The thick almost translucent white coating your lips and making them glossy, half ending up on your face and the rest coating his hand as he roughly jerked long strokes.

"Fuck, sorry, I-"

You giggled, licking a little off your lips before wiping away at your cheek.

"It's fine, Sugu," You laughed, wiping your face off on his boxers, nose nuzzling through the fabric against his thigh. "Little warning, next time?"

"Yeah," He muttered, still dazed as he studied your face.

It seemed keeping it together wasn't something he could do when it came to you.

"Wanna shower?" You offered, getting off the bed, the bounce of your breasts as you carefully pulled your little nightdress off reminding him how badly he wanted to repay that favor.

"Sure," He shrugged, standing up after you and stepping out his boxers off before tossing them into the laundry basket.

He watched you get the water started, humming to yourself as you grabbed a new bottle of body wash from the cabinet underneath the sink and checked the temperature.

"Hey," He softly said, distracting you before you could step in.

"Yeah?" You paused, glancing over your shoulder at him.

"Wanna get married?"

You didn't react. Or maybe your lack of reaction was one in itself. A blank stare. A blink. Your hands still on the shower curtain.

"What?" You eventually choked out.

Suguru panicked - or came as close to panic as he could. Falling back on logic, all the facts you couldn't argue with.

"I was paying the bill for the last appointment, and you know, your insurance is terrible," He reasoned, keeping his expression serious, stoic, like you'd have to see his side. "I just think it'd make more sense for us to get married, use my insurance and save our money for the other important stuff."

He actually couldn't care less what the appointments cost or how much he spent on the baby - because he would make absolutely fucking sure you were both spoiled but, he wanted you to say yes.

"I can just pay for the appointments if that's the problem," You quietly murmured, a look on his face he'd never seen before he barely caught before you turned back around and stepped in the shower.

Shit.

He didn't have to guess to know that was a no.

Step five?

Try not to maim every guy that ever looked at you.

It had to be something instinctual - how it made his skin crawled whenever someone's shoulder brushed against yours on the street or a stare lingered too long on your face. Fuck, even Gojo sitting too-close to you had started to get to him, the easy way he slung his shoulder over the back of the couch and blabbered to you about his day while you laughed.

Normally, Suguru would not be silently struggling to maintain his polite smile when you offered to let Satoru feel the baby kick, new cracks starting to form in his facade as his best friend eagerly out his hand on your stomach.

"That's freaky," Gojo scrunched up his face, pulling his hand away at the first flutters of the kick.

"Jerk," You huffed, smacking his arm before struggling to readjust the pillows under your back, your own brows knitted together in frustration.

"Need something?" Suguru interrupted.

"I'm fine," You muttered, despite your discomfort.

"So, like," Gojo started, squinting down at your stomach before glance between you and Suguru. "Am I like, the godfather or-"

"Why not?" You shrugged right as Suguru shook his head no.

"Why not?" Gojo repeated in a whine, cutting him a look that only ever worked if you were the one directing it at him.

"I'd prefer my daughter lives off of more than chocolate and candy," Suguru sarcastically dismissed, scooting closer to you in the couch to slip the pillow that had been beside him underneath your back to help support it.

"I can cook," Satoru defensively protested, looking to your for support Suguru hoped he wouldn't received. "Besides, I have a great dentist so even if-"

"Shit, do we have to find her a dentist too?" You were ignoring the rest of his rambling, glancing back at Suguru with a frown at yet another task on the growing list of items to take care of.

"We can worry about that when she's actually here," Suguru shrugged, a hand settling on your shoulder and massaging the tense muscles there. "And has teeth."

"Okay," You sighed, still chewing on your bottom lip. You turned to your other side, your attention focusing again on your guest.

"You guys pick out a doctor yet?" Satoru asked, spreading his legs and leaning over to grab one of the still-warm cookies you baked after dinner. The sun had already set aside, only the glow from the TV and the kitchen light still on.

"Yeah, think so," You hummed, a hand resting on your stomach when you tried to get one too, pouting at your body's refusal to do what it used to until Suguru reached over to get the cookie for you.

"Got your hands pretty full, huh?" Satoru mumbled with his mouth still full, cookie crumbs sticking to his face.

"Suguru says we should just go ahead and get married," You sighed, taking another small bite before talking again. "For insurance stuff, I guess."

It was the first time you mentioned it in the past couple months since he first brought it up.

Satoru threw him a look like he was the biggest idiot on the planet before actually laughing.

"Just for insurance?" He cocked a brow up, an annoying glimmer of amusement flashing in the blue of his eyes while throwing Suguru a look that made him consider strangling his friend on the spot. "You know, my insurance is really-"

"Don't even think about it," Suguru shut him up before he could continue.

But you were glancing between them, a small frown weighing your lips down and a subtle crease between your brow. Were you actually disappointed?

"I'm actually pretty tired, guys, I, uh, think I'm gonna crash for the night," You mumbled, pushing up off the couch and ignoring Suguru's outstretched hand to stand on your own.

He could feel it sinking in his chest before you disappeared down the hall.

Another misstep. Pushing you away when he was trying to pull you closer.

"Insurance? Really?" Satoru snickered once you were out of earshot.

"Shut up," Suguru groaned.

"Just tell her you love her already and put a ring on it," He shrugged, leaning over to flick his arm. "Unless you want your kid to have a stepdad some day?"

Okay, Suguru really wanted to strangle him for suggesting that.

And it was his own fault for offering excuses, he knew that, still he didn't want to tell you he loved you and you think it was just because of the baby, or that was the only reason he was trying to tie you down to him. He wanted you to know he meant it.

To know he'd been waiting for the moment he could claim you his entire life, to call you his in every form, sign the paper and hear the word husband leave your lips.

Just being your boyfriend the past few months when you were having his baby was torture, enduring your unsure glances, the unease he tried and failed to kiss away.

What were you so scared of? And why was it him?

He still hadn't figured out by the time Satoru left, or when he eventually got in bed next to you, careful not to disturb your sleep - even if he suspected you were already awake.

Suguru was pretty sure he'd never been scared in his until he woke up to an empty bed. Cold sheets, no lingering body heat or even the scent of your shampoo clinging to your pillow when he rolled over to the empty space you should be.

Stumbling out of the bed still half-asleep himself, squinting as he rubbed his eyes and pushed open the bathroom door, but no, the lights were off and it was also empty. Calling out your name and crushing the budding anxiety clawing up his throat as he padded through the hall into the living room, the dim light from the kitchen hurting his eyes as they adjusted to the yellow glow.

His ears caught up first.

The faint sound of your sniffling reaching him as he rounded the corner to find you on the floor by the entryway, struggling to slip on your shoes, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants that didn't do much to hide your baby bump as you wiped at your cheeks with one hand. Dressed like you were planning on going somewhere, purse laying on the floor next to you, phone and keys hanging halfway out of it.

"Baby," He yawned, trying to speak softly as he glanced over at the clock. "It's three in the morning. What are you doing?"

"Can't sleep. I want a slushie," You mumbled, blinking a few times, clearly just as exhausted as him. There was a faint shine to your eyes, a few teardrops still clinging to your lashes.

"You should've woken me up," He murmured, gently squeezing your shoulder.

"It's just a stupid craving," You dismissed, rubbing your own eyes as you gave up and threw your shoe back on the ground.

It was the first one you'd told him about. He wasn't even sure you even had any, but maybe you'd just been taking care of them yourself.

"I'll get you one," He stifled another yawn while he talked. "Let me get a coat and my keys."

You grabbed onto the hem of his pajama pants to hold him in place, peeking up at him with a pout.

"You don't have to."

"You think I'm going to let my pregnant girlfriend go out by herself to get one?" Suguru retorted.

Your pout only got deeper at the word girlfriend.

"Forget about it," You murmured, letting go of his pajamas to push off the floor, once again ignoring his outstretched hand to try and stand by yourself. "Let's just go back to bed."

He knew he could ask if you were sure and you'd grumble something sarcastic back before going to sleep upset.

"Hey," He paused, stopping you with a hand on the curve of your waist, pulling you into him, until your baby bump, his daughter, was pressed against the firm muscle of his own stomach. "Let's go together, okay?"

"You really wanna?" You hesitated, clearly wanting to say yes despite the streak of stubbornness that usually won out over your softer side.

Suguru pressed a kiss against your forehead, his hand appreciatively running over your stomach just for the mini-you inside to kick, the flutter under his fingers only reminding him how easily the two of you had him wrapped around your own.

"It's you," He'd remind you however many times you needed. "Course I do."

Step six?

Get you whatever craving or late night treat you wanted - even if he felt like he was sleepwalking.

Still groggy, he threw on his own shoes and grabbed his stuff, helping you over to the couch so he could get down on his knees and help you get your shoes on, tugging one of his sweatshirts over your head, although you didn't drown in it any more, he thought it was cuter now, stretched over your baby bump like this.

Rubbing his eyes with yet another yawn while he insisted on holding open the car door for you and driving you to the nearest gas station/convenience store combo that had a functioning slushie machine, keeping his mouth shut about the terrible food dyes in it while you picked out a cup and pulled the dispenser down on the blue raspberry flavor. It was nice. Your head resting on his shoulder and happily sipping through the straw while he paid the equally tired cashier, your hand in his after he pocketed the receipt while you walked to the car, his thumb rubbing over the bare spot beneath your knuckle where a ring should be.

The one that had been tucked inside a box in his closet, buried under photo albums and souvenirs of a lifetime you'd already spent together. One he'd seen through the window of a jewelry store on the street, the glittering stone and the thin band, the little offset gems, something about it that made him think of what it'd look like on you. He bought it even though Satoru laughed at him the entire drive home.

"You're not even dating her."

Who else would you marry if not him?

He glanced back over at you as he turned the key in the ignition, your sleepy eyes and your pretty smile, the way your other hand was settled over the swell of your stomach.

His girls.

The drive back home was filled with the sort of chatter that used to be casual for you two - your happy giggle ringing in his ears while you talked about some reality show you wanted to watch with him, swearing it was stupid but he'd still like it anyway, your hand drifting over to his leg, pausing on his thigh while you asked what him and Satoru talked about after you went to sleep.

Your slushie was almost empty by the time you made it back, taking the last few sips before tossing it in the trash in the kitchen and giving him a little look like you wanted him to help get your shoes off but didn't want to ask.

He did it for you.

Following behind you to the bedroom, tossing his stuff on the nightstand and flicking the lamp back on to bathe the room in low light.

"Thank you, Sugu," You softly said, yawning as you peeled the sweatshirt off first, shuffling out of your pajama pants until you were just in a thin t-shirt and panties, and all he could fucking think was how could you be thanking him? When you were giving him his dream on the prettiest platter he'd ever seen?

"You're so-" He started, but you weren't finished, shyly avoiding his gaze as your mouth opened again. The mood had shifted again, your face scrunched up like you were sad.

"I just feel bad, you know?" He didn't. "You're just, so, perfect, and so you, and you got stuck with me and a baby you didn't plan on."

"Stuck with you?" He echoed, blinking blankly at you while you kept stumbling over your words.

"I just, uh, I want you to know you don't have to marry me just because you feel obligated to, you know, if, um, you met someone else-" You looked like you were going to be sick just saying it.

Was this what had you so worried?

"There isn't ever going to be anyone else," Suguru bluntly cut you off.

"You don't know that," You argued, struggling to be the better person, not to be greedy when that was exactly what he'd waited years for.

"I'm in love with you."

You froze.

Glossy eyes wide with surprise, your lips parted and stained blue still, shoulders tense.

He turned back to the closet, snagging the box of the shelf and tossing it on the bed, shuffling through loose photos and little gifts you'd given him through the years he couldn't bear to break or lose until he found the velvet box at the bottom.

Getting down on one knee was the second-easiest decision he ever made in his life. The first was choosing you to begin with.

"Sugu," Your voice quivered, breath hitching in your throat.

"I bought this for you three years ago," He admitted, dark eyes piercing through to you, studying the way your face seemed to glow from the light of the lamp. And sure, of all the ways he'd imagined this moment going, he never once pictured it like this. But that didn't matter. Because this was real. Raw. "I love you. I did then, and I do now, and if you ask me again in fifteen years, I'm sure I will then too."

He popped the ring box open, and he didn't think your mouth could drop open any more but it did, your cute little gasp making his pulse thrum louder in his ears while your attention flickered back-and-forth between his sharp stare and the ring he hoped you'd accept.

"Marry me."

It wasn't quite a question, or a plea. An open statement of affection, a quiet promise of a lifetime of it.

You swallowed, barely bobbing your head up and down in a nod at first, a slow smile taking shape on your lips like you still couldn't believe it.

"O-okay," You stammered, an airy laugh slipping out while you tried to blink away the disbelief. "I-"

He grabbed your left hand where it was still hanging by your side, plucking the ring out of the box and slipping it on your finger, swiveling it a little around the knuckle for it to sit snugly at the base.

"You're really serious? No take backs, okay?" You murmured, holding your hand up to admire the way it glittered even in the low light while he laughed. You tugged him up to his feet by his hand, pressing yourself against his chest and glancing up at him, a hint of something unsure still lingering in the lines of your face. "You're mine."

That was supposed to be his line.

Then. Now. Always.

"We can go sign the paperwork Monday if you want, or have a wedding, before or after the baby-"

"I don't care how we do it," You interrupted him this time, reaching up to cup his cheek. The gentle touch, your soft fingertips, the adoration in your eyes when you got up on your tiptoes to plant a small kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"I always kinda wanted to see you in a white dress," He chuckled, grabbing your chin between his fingers to give you a proper kiss back, sucking on your lower lip, the taste of blue raspberry still on your tongue.

"Yeah? Seven months pregnant?" You laughed back when you broke away for a breath.

"You seriously have no idea what you do to me," He breathlessly murmured into your skin.

"You could show me," You tilted your head to the side, but your eyes flickered back to the ring on your finger, the proof of it already there.

"Tease," He muttered as his lips ghosted over your cheek, pulling you back over to the edge of the mattress. He used his free hand to tug the box back down to the floor, nudging it away with his foot.

Half past four in the morning and he was taking his fiancèe to bed instead of his girlfriend.

He made sure you were comfortable first, readjusting you until the pillows were nestled under your head, ignoring your giggles while he moved the blankets aside and climbed up after you, hooking a leg over his shoulder after he peeled your underwear down your thighs.

"I was kidding," You laughed while he licked a long stripe up the inside of your thigh, the sound turning into a pretty gasp when he dipped his tongue inside.

"I wasn't," His voice was muffled into your skin, fingers dipping against the soft flesh on your thigh and hip as he held on tighter, his tongue slipping inside deeper, dragging the muscle along the inside of your walls.

A taste he missed, too long since you last let him try it.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, moaning as he practiced steady patterns, pulling him closer into your heat while he used your hips like handlebars to refuse to let you squirm away from him again.

You still tried, writhing under the weight of his palms, although he knew his clipped nails wouldn't leave a mark.

"Oh," You squeaked, a cute strangled noise escaping when he dragged his tongue out and ran it over your clit, tracing small shapes with the tip of it.

"Better get used to being mine, baby," He hummed, peeking up to watch the way you still shivered at the sound of his voice, how you were finally about to be his in every sense of the word.

"I always was," Your lighthearted laugh cut off by another lewd moan, your hips still trying to arch up.

Planting open-mouthed kisses along your swollen bud while your fingers tugged at his scalp, your gasps of his name cut through the quiet.

Your thigh still up on his shoulder to give him easier access, the muscles pulling tense under his grip and the way your breath had started to stutter let him know you were close before you managed to barely stammer it out.

"Please, please, please."

Your legs were trembling, soft whimpers that were almost incoherent imprinting themselves in his memory while you unraveled underneath him, his tongue cleaning you up like it hadn't caused it. Teasing you before you managed to piece yourself back together, sucking softly on your oversensitive bundle of nerves just for you to let out a whine of his name.

"Tired, baby?" He couldn't help his smirk, leaving a kiss on the inside of your thigh before climbing off the bed to snag you a fresh pair of underwear from the dresser, slipping it up your legs for you so didn't have to do the awkward shuffle of getting it back on.

"Maybe," You admitted, rubbing your eyes as you patted the spot next to you for him to lay. "I am growing your baby."

He smiled.

"We can sleep in, alright?" He could feel his own eyes crinkle, flicking the light off on the lamp, the faint moonlight cutting the dark of the room. He pulled the covers up as he got in his side of the bed, readjusting until your head was resting on his chest.

Suguru usually got up before you, made breakfast and brewed the coffee and started the laundry, but tomorrow (or today, technically)? He would spend the sunrise holding you close and wait for you to wake up to take you out for brunch or lunch or whatever you wanted.

"Hey, Suguru?" You murmured, stifling a yawn as you peeked up at him through heavy lidded eyes.

"Mhm?" He stroked your hair back, admiring his future wife snuggled up in his arms.

"I love you."

want more dilf!Suguru with his post-partum wife? here!

you stood behind the glass, dressed in an oversized blue jersey that had his team's name and acted as a dress. you were wearing black tights underneath it, knee high leather boots rising up your legs that formed vile thoughts in his head. you were watching with excitement and hearts in your eyes. hands clapping as your friend whispered something in your ear. you weren't paying attention though, eyes locked on the man that skated his way off the ice and toward you.

fucking toji fushiguro.

satoru had been friends with him in high school but they grew apart when toji joined a frat in university. he was too busy with hockey to fuck around and the friendship slowly fizzled out before he graduated ahead of his class. then a year later toji graduated and got drafted onto the same team as satoru. the friendship was never what it was before, the men only seeing each other as teammates and nothing more.

satoru had never thought of himself as a jealous person. from elementary to college he had always been considered a "popular" guy, able to get any girl he wanted without putting in much effort and most men wanted to be him.

even now. he was a goddamn superstar, stupid fucking rich and living out his childhood dreams. he wanted for nothing except for the one thing he couldn't have: you.

it was a brutal reminder that you were someone else's when fushiguro picked you up and spun you around, lips locked against yours. the number 12 plastered in a big white font on the back of your jersey. toji's number.

satoru was annoyed but eventually found the strength to tear his eyes away from you, stomach twisted in knots at the fact that you weren't wearing his number. he allowed a smile to stretch across his face as his team huddled around him, his ego reminding him that he was satoru fucking gojo.

even though his heart screamed at him that it didn't matter if he couldn't have you.

later that night he was five shots deep in some shitty liquor, pretending to enjoy himself at some equally shitty party that was meant to celebrate the team qualifying for the playoffs.

he had a beautiful woman sitting next to him, her leg thrown over his lap as she kissed on his neck and whispered vulgar things in his ear, breath reeking of alcohol and mint gum. she had no shame that a few of his teammates sat at the same booth, deep in conversation about the days game and some other bullshit he didn't care about.

he was too busy trying to the hide the glare that was forming on his face, because sitting right across from him was you.. and toji. and you had the nerve to be dressed like that, tempting his restraint. questioning his morals.

toji's arm was thrown around your shoulder, your body slightly turned toward him. it gave satoru the perfect view of the dip in your waist as he tossed back his sixth shot, the bodysuit you wore doing nothing to hide the hips he often dreamed of digging his hands into.

what the fuck was his problem? he had a girl practically eating his face right now and all he could do was eye you like some virgin loser.

he moved to take another shot when you laughed at something toji said. your nose crinkled as you tried to control your laughter, hair falling into your face as you titled your head down. finding some joke toji said funnier than it probably was. his heart thumped loudly at the sound, the music bumping in the club drowning out over the noise of blood rushing in his ears.

he was convinced you were an angel and it only confused him even more that you were with someone like toji. sure, he's only known you for the five months you'd been dating his teammate and not on a personal level but he knew his former friend since they were teens and he had always been a jerk that toyed with girls like it was his favorite pastime.

not that he hadn't had his fair share of one night stands, but he wouldn't do that to you. never you.

what could you possibly find so interesting about him that you hardly looked at satoru when in the same vicinity as him? it frustrated him to no end. he knew that he could treat you better than toji could if only you would acknowledge him.

"want to get out of here?" the woman whispered in his ear. he didn't even remember her name and it annoyed him that it wasn't you asking him that question.

satoru checked himself when he found his hand moving to push her off of him. it wasn't her fault that she wasn't you, and he was in need of releasing some tension. especially when you showed up dressed like the goddess of seduction herself, making his dick rock hard and throbbing with lust the moment he laid eyes on you.

he was pathetic, really. you were toji's girlfriend.

he waited a few more minutes to see if you would look at him just once tonight. even a small glance would satisfy satoru at this point, but you didn't. you talked to everyone but him, flashing those glossy eyes at toji like he painted the fucking sky.

only when he stood, girl latched tight to his arm as if she were afraid he'd slip away, did you finally look at him. satoru almost dropped to his knees right there, head at your feet while he offered the world to you. thankfully his dignity was still intact and he didn't make a fool of himself, or his date that was begging to be fucked.

"hey! i didn't get the chance to tell you earlier but you did great out there today." you smiled at him, completely oblivious to the way your innocent words tugged at his heart.

satoru let his smirk cover up how fucking whipped you had him. how ready he was to say fuck it and pull you into his arms right in front of toji, daring his teammate to do something about it.

"yeah? 'preciate it beautiful." and the way your eyes widened at the pet name he decided at this very moment he would call you from now on, had him biting back a chuckle. you were so fucking cute, teasing him with your mere presence like he didn't know how to bite back.

clearly the name was far less amusing to toji, who shot him a glare and not so subtly pulled you closer to him. satoru fought the urge to roll his eyes, though he was satisfied he got under his skin. it filled his big head with the idea that toji's insecurity meant you would possibly give him a chance.

why else would the dark haired meathead act like satoru threatened his relationship with a nickname as simple as beautiful?

"fuck off, gojo." toji huffed, face scrunched in annoyance while satoru was cool as a cucumber, smirk widening as placed his hands in his pockets. he was beyond amused at toji's frazzled state. what an insecure dud.

"what? can't recognize a beautiful woman when i see one?" he continued with his taunting, his plan officially set in motion. satoru would just have to woo you until you realized toji was a brain-dead loser and he was much better for you.

didn't you know how good you two would look together? how good he could be to you?

"eat a dick, dude."

satoru only laughed and shot you a wink, savoring the way your eyes widened even further before he turned and pulled the woman out of the club.

while he was balls deep in his date that night, pounding his irritation away, he thought of you. how much tighter you likely were. how you were probably a huge freak underneath that shy act you put on in public. and when he finally pulled out, ripping the condom off his swollen cock as he stroked his load onto the stomach below him, he imagined he was still buried deep inside you. condom nonexistent as he filled you to the brim with his hot cum.

ㅤ

you were exhausted after your night out with toji, celebrating his teams recent big win until three in the morning. a choice you immediately regretted as you woke up in the same outfit you wore last night, one you had hoped would get your boyfriend's attention.

you made sure not to drink that night, desperately needing to get laid and not wanting toji to turn you away because you were too drunk. he had been stressed lately, with it being the middle of hockey season and all, and he hadn't fucked you in some weeks now. so to say you were disappointed when he only kissed you and wished you good luck on your finals tomorrow, would be severely understating it.

part of you wondered if he was seeing someone else. you'd only been dating five months now, so when he started dodging every hint you threw his way that you were in need of physical affection, red flags started flying.

you could understand and appreciate how busy he was. you were on your last year of law school, studying for the bar exam and getting ready for an internship at one of the most powerful firms in the country. you were busy yourself but you still found time for him, even if it would screw you over in the end.

you really shouldn't have gone out with toji last night, but he had begged and pleaded with you until you had no choice but to say yes so he could stop whimpering like a dog. you threw on your sexiest outfit, doused yourself in his favorite perfume and wore your new victoria's secret lingerie.

he had eyed you like you were candy, giving you a sloppy kiss and a smack on the ass before walking you to his car. you had been even more hopeful when toji became oddly possessive after gojo called you beautiful. the comment had left you flustered, cheeks burning from the sudden attention that you didn't know how to respond to.

gojo had stared at you like you were the only woman in the room and it had you dumbstruck. toji had never looked at you that intensely and it left you feeling shy and exposed. so when he finally pulled you closer, it gave you the false idea that your outfit would be ripped off you the second he took you back to his place.

only toji hadn't done either of those things. he had dropped you back at your apartment, kissed you goodnight after a silent car ride and pulled off before you could even close the door.

now you lay in bed still horny, head pounding from a lack of sleep and if the clock on your nightstand was correct, an hour away from one of the most important exams of your life. you sighed, pulling your phone off the charger as you checked your messages.

shoko (8:30am): hey babes, you up? wanna grab coffee before our exams?

shoko (8:50am): hellooo?

shoko (9:00am): boo, you whore. i just seen a pap picture of you with toji last night so you're either out cold rn after a long night of fucking or you're still getting your back blown out. 🤣

shoko (9:05am): i gtg, professor won't let me retake if i miss this test. love you, don't make choices i wouldn't!

dad (9:06am): hi honey. how's law school treating you? call your old man when you get the chance.

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you wondered what shoko would think if you told her you did in fact not get your back blown out. instead you went to bed alone, doubting your relationship more than you already did. that the satoru gojo showed more interest in you than your own boyfriend did.

your stomach still tickled at the way he called you beautiful. such a simple name that left you feeling like a cat in heat. not that you'd ever admit that to anyone outside of yourself.

you were still unsure of how to feel about his nickname. on one hand you were in a relationship with his teammate and shouldn't entertain comments from other men. on the other, the crush you had on the hockey superstar still lingered somewhere deep in you.

when you first started dating your boyfriend, it had been with the intention of getting a little closer to the man with sharp blue eyes and white hair, that had been at the center of your dreams every fucking night. toji was hot but he wasn't really your type, so you were surprised when you found yourself actually falling for him two months into the relationship.

you met him at some party shoko dragged you to back in september, right before hockey season started. you hadn't really been checking for him, searching the room for gojo but he hadn't been there. so you cracked and gave him a chance after he kept "accidentally" bumping into you.

he made you feel like you were the hottest girl in the room that night, his hand on your lower back all night, whispering the crudest of comments in your ear until he took you back to his condo and fucked you into the mattress.

you hadn't been expecting him to ask you for your number before he dropped you back home, assuming this was a one night stand and nothing more. you weren't stupid. you knew the reputation most athletes had, especially toji fushiguro. but he clearly had an interest in you as he started texting you almost daily for hookups until two weeks later when he finally asked you to be his girlfriend right before his first game of the season.

now here you were, feeling more neglected than ever and you'd only been dating the man five months. this is why you'd been single for more than four years before meeting toji. men were complicated and more often than not, a waste of time. in the end it would always be you and your rose toy.

you opened up instagram next, scrolling through your friends stories before you stopped on gojo's which had a green circle around his icon. close friends? you quickly went to your notifications tab, hands shaking as your heart thumped. thumped. thumped! eyes bulging when you saw:

satorugojo followed you back (3 hrs ago). plus some of his 3.5 million followers that had followed you in response.

oh! you swallowed hard, clicking on his story and seeing he posted a picture of himself at the gym. athletic shorts riding low on his hips. grey boxers showing. white happy trail peeking from his black shirt that rose as he lifted one arm, showing off his ridiculous muscles. blue airpod max's snug on his head of wild white hair.

no days off 💪🏻 he captioned it. posted at 6:30am.

out of pure instinct you went to screenshot it before stopping yourself. this is your boyfriends teammate, what the fuck were you doing? you weren't some weird fan anymore, you were toji's girlfriend. snap out of it!

you forced yourself to close the app, texted your father that you would call him after your exam and quickly stripped and hopped in the shower. you spent twenty minutes reciting your mental notes on criminal law, civil law, etc.. you really shouldnt have went out last night.

after brushing your teeth and fixing your hair, you were out the door and thanking god that you lived close to campus or else you would have missed your exam. all because you were drooling over the fact that another man followed you on social media. get real!

you were grateful that shoko had been waiting for you the moment you stepped out of that too stuffy lecture room three hours later. the exam itself went fine. though you'd occasionally hear gojo's voice calling you beautiful, you had locked in and been the first one finished.

you were beyond drained and immediately dropped your head on her shoulder, mumbling about how you couldn't wait to graduate and you were never going to a party again. and something about fuck men.

"uh huh, it must suck getting fucked all night and almost missing your exams. poor (name)." she jokingly patted your back until you lifted your head to glare at her.

"i would find that funny if i'd actually gotten any."

"again?!"

twenty minutes later you sat in front of your best friend at a local cafe, wearing your heart on your sleeve as you ranted to her about your relationship issues.

"i just don't understand him, sho. i go out of my way to dress how i know he likes, wear perfumes that he says are his favorite and all i get is a smack on the ass. almost like i'm his dog begging for praise and he's patting my head and calling me a good girl."

shoko was empathic but had a look that said she didn't really know what to say. it was usually her in your position, while you never really had the patience for a relationship. it was the occasional one night stand for you, preferring to fixate on fictional men who would never disappoint you as real men often did.

toji was the perfect example of that. he'd been so hot and cold lately. kissing you at his games and acting like a loving boyfriend, to barely acknowledging you and leaving you aching for more.

"fuck one of his teammates."

you choked on your latte, looking around to make sure no one heard what she said as you attempted to regain your composure. when you finally calmed down enough you shot her a scowl, embarrassed at your little episode that had a few people staring like you'd pissed in their coffee.

"what? honestly i don't know why you went for him when suguru geto was right there but i'll try not to judge you too much." she had a shit eating grin on her face which only made you want to sink into the ground even more.

you had no plans to cheat on toji when you didn't even have proof that he was doing the same to you. but your mind still drifted to gojo. if you were going to sleep with any of them, it would be him for sure. or maybe you'd switch teams and go for that hot soccer player ryomen sukuna. but you weren't a cheater so you didn't allow that thought to simmer in your head.

though you were curious as to why he followed you, especially after he'd called you beautiful last night. why were you still stuck on that anyway? it was just a name he probably called twenty different women as everyone knew satoru gojo was a major flirt. but it was the first time he called you that.

"enough about me." you attempted to regain some control over the conversation. "how'd your exam go? you're almost done with med school! are you gonna stay in the city?"

"don't know." she shrugged, taking a sip of her tea. "thinking of working in a high school. if not, maybe moving a few cities over. enjoy some new scenery y'know?"

of course you did. you sometimes found yourself dreaming of starting somewhere fresh that wasn't your hometown but something had always kept you tethered here. maybe it was your irrational fear of change, or the stability you had here. family, friends, career. there hadn't really been a reason for you to leave.

just then your phone buzzed.

toji 💘: think you could stop by the rink? finishing up practice in 30 and wanted to see your pretty face.

✮

"why are you just standing there? move your feet!" satoru yelled at his team, tired from the early start to his day when he'd only gotten about four hours of actual rest. he wasn't usually this cranky, typically cracking jokes with the boys or giving them words of encouragement but he was still on edge from the fact that you'd actually spoken to him last night.

satoru didn't know what it was about you that left him so dizzy with obsession, when he'd never acted this way over a woman before. he had girlfriends sure, some he cared about but never anything too serious or long-term, preferring to focus on his future in the leagues and not wanting anything to distract him from that.

until you walked in the room. you'd been there to watch toji practice, dressed in low rise jeans that showed off your waist jewelry and straps to your pink lingerie. a matching long sleeve crop top and cardigan to protect your arms from the chill of the facility.

he thought he might propose to you right then and there. call it love at first sight. you were insanely hot and walked with a confidence that made every man and woman stop and stare at you. even coach stole a glance when he thought no one was looking.

he was hooked from that day forward. never missing a day of practice just in case you might show up, even if it bothered him that you were there to see toji and not him. he looked forward to seeing what outfit you'd wear or how you'd style your hair. he even noticed little things, like if you were in a good mood you'd be straight faced but if you were annoyed, you'd have a forced smile on your lips to keep up appearances.

on those days he wanted to yell at toji for not keeping you happy enough, though he knew that was unfair. plus you weren't his to worry about, even if he desperately wanted you to be. but for now he would settle for breathing the same air as you if that was all he could get.

"who the fuck are you talking to huh?! i dare you to say that shit again!" a yell broke through his thoughts. when he looked to the ice, toji was pushing suguru back with a mean shove. almost knocking satoru's friend on his ass and making him drop his stick.

"what, you gonna hit me fushiguro? i'm not one of the newbies, you don't scare me." suguru was calm as ever, amusement dancing in his eyes as he straightened himself. satoru was tempted to stand back and watch, getting some kind of sick enjoyment out of watching whatever suguru said make toji turn red with anger.

"actually, I think the next time i say it out loud it'll be to your pretty little girlfriend. oh there she is! what do you think fushiguro? she might want to know-" before suguru could finish, toji landed a punch right to the man's nose that sent him flying to the ground.

"are you two idiots done?" satoru yelled onto the rink, standing where coach usually does as he was filling in for him today. "fushiguro, you're out for the day. go home and blow off some steam. don't come back tomorrow if you still feel you need to attack your own teammate."

toji wasn't hearing it as he skated aggressively off the rink until he was behind the board and glaring at satoru as his cheeks flared red. "fuck you, you're not coach."

satoru lifted a brow, fighting the urge to give the man the same treatment he just gave suguru. "nah, but i am your captain and i said to fucking go home. or does the c on my jersey mean nothing anymore?"

if it were possible, you'd be able to see the steam shooting from toji's ears as he thought about what to say next before huffing and moving to sit on the bench, taking his skates off and pushing past satoru, storming to the locker room. satoru wondered what suguru had said to make the man so upset, watching as the doors that led to the backrooms closed behind him with a loud bang!

he didn't have much time to ponder on it before he noticed you standing at the entrance door, eyes wide as you watched the commotion. he wondered how much you saw, but really he was concerned with how much time he'd have to talk to you before toji came back and dragged you away.

he hadn't expected to see you again so soon but the surprise was more than welcomed.

he watched, eyes cloudy with desire as you walked further into the facility. hands holding a takeout bag, face set in confusion as you looked around, unsure of what to do after walking in on your boyfriend behaving like a psychopath.

satoru would never embarrass you like that.

when your eyes met his he raised his hand to wave you over, fighting back a smile as he watched you ponder over if it was a good idea or not after you'd just watched your boyfriend curse him out.

he finally felt like he could breathe again when you started walking toward him, dressed in a grey sweatsuit, faux fur jacket and a fitted cap. you were stunning and satoru almost choked on the drool that was forming at the sight of you.

when he turned to make sure geto was alright, he saw the man was already back up and finishing his drills with the others. satoru made a mental note to ask him what his mess with fushiguro had been about and why he mentioned you. for now, you would have his undivided attention.

"hi beautiful." his voice was raspy from yelling at the team for the past two hours, but he was satisfied to see the unintended effect it had on you. the slight widening of your eyes, pretty lips covered in gloss parting in surprise, the way you tightened your grip on the takeout bag.

"oh, i-" you bite your lip before relaxing your shoulders, releasing a breath and giving him a small smile that he knew he would be thinking about for the rest of the day. "hi."

satoru tried his best not to grin but you made it so hard. look at how cute you were, stuttering over being called beautiful when you were so much more than that. he would make sure he reminded of you that everyday when you were his, since toji was a clearly failing as a boyfriend.

"brought me lunch? how sweet. you didn't have to do that, princess."

princess? satoru had no idea where that one came from, he'd never called a woman that before but he could tell you liked it by the way your smile widened and your eyes softened. he would stick with that one then.

he felt like he was gonna melt with the way you had his body burning with a deep, scorching need that pulled in his stomach. a need that had him wondering how soft your lips were, what the gloss you wore tasted like, and what your skin felt like under his hands.

"i actually.. uhm- it's for toji. what happened with him and geto?"

satoru's mouth soured at the sound of his name taking up room in your conversation. he wanted to learn a little more about you before the beast came back and whisked you away.

but this was a good opportunity for him to get your number. yeah, he could work with this.

"not sure yet, princess. but if you want i can text ya after i talk with suguru, that way you get both sides of the story and not just whatever fushiguro tells you."

he watched as you swallowed, eyes tracing the movement of your lips and letting them fall to your exposed neck and the way your gold jewelry sat so perfectly across your skin. the captain of the number one hockey team in the world right now, was totally checking out his teammate's girlfriend and felt not even an ounce of shame about it.

embarrassment was never really satoru gojo's style. if he was one thing, it was confident. plus what was wrong with him letting you know he found you attractive? if your relationship with fuhsiguro was strong, then the man had nothing to worry about.

"you want my number? i don't know.. wouldn't that be inappropriate since-" you stop and lick your lips and satoru thinks he died and came back to life. "i'm dating your friend?"

mood fucking ruined.

"fushiguro isn't my friend. strictly teammates." the words came out harsher than he meant it and his heart sank at the way you shrunk back, the tension from earlier returning.

"i'm sorry, i didn't mean-"

"(name), what the fuck are you doing? we're leaving now!" toji's voice interrupted as soon as satoru reached out to touch your arm and you were gone in blink, spitting out a "s-sorry, sorry!" while chasing after your boyfriend who lacked the decency to even wait for you.

rage boiled inside of satoru, his fists clenched at his side, watching as you stopped the door front hitting you before disappearing behind it. toji was a fucking monster and you deserved better than him.

he had a new goal now. he would get you away from his teammate and then he would make you his. that started with finding out what suguru had against fushiguro that set him off and-

fuck! he didn't get your number.

✮

the car ride was awkward as fuck to say the least. toji was beyond pissed, one hand gripping the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles turned white, the other placed on your thigh squeezing considerably softer, grip still possessive as he swerved through traffic.

you wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he had ignored you when you asked the first time, as you followed him out of the training facility. you took that as a sign that he didn't want to talk about it and stayed quiet. opting to scroll through your phone instead, not a clue in the world where he was taking you.

dad (1:03pm): how did the exam go? i just talked to nishimura and he says you're all good to start your internship after your grades are released. don't forget to call! love you honey.

you (1:30pm): it went great! thanks for getting me the internship dad, I really appreciate it. can I call in 20?

dad (1:30pm): 👍

just as you were going to put your phone away, an instagram notification came through that had your cheeks heating instantly.

satorugojo (just now): number, princess? forgot to get it before the big bad wolf stole you away.

oh my god! you had no idea what he was doing or why he was suddenly so interested in you but it put you on guard. the crush you harbored still lingering somewhere inside you. locked away out of respect for toji. and it would stay there. you had no plans to disrespect your relationship unless toji did first.

so you ignored the message and locked your phone with painstaking difficulty, giving the man next to you your attention. face still heated from gojo's message. the fangirl in you screaming at the fact that li ole' you managed to get the satoru gojo's attention.

"where are we going?" you asked your boyfriend, hoping he didn't notice your reaction to gojo's dm. you needed to get real. he was probably giving ten other women the same attention that he gave you. he was satoru gojo after all. number one hockey player on the rink, world's biggest flirt off the rink.

"taking ya home. i have some business i need to take care of." he kept his eyes on the road, jaw still tight with annoyance from his earlier interaction with geto and gojo.

you frowned, fingers tightening around the lunch you'd bought for toji. if you weren't annoyed before, you definitely were now. he's the one that asked to see you and now he was ditching you. again.

"what business?" your voice was low as you attempted to stop yourself from cursing him out. you didn't do relationships often but when you gave a man the time of the day, you never allowed them to treat you like this. toji fushiguro wasn't the exception.

his grip tightened around the steering wheel and you thought he might rip it off with the way the skin under his fingernails turned red.

"nothing you need to know." he removed his hand from your thigh, moving it to hold onto the gearshift.

how fucking dare he? "hey asshole, you asked to see me! i deserve to know why you're wasting my time and ditching me without even properly saying hello."

"are you deaf, woman? i just told you to drop it!" woman? you were seeing red.

"fine! maybe i'll ask geto what had you angry enough to punch him, since we're keeping secrets now."

toji slammed on the breaks at a red light, sending your body forward before your back hit the seat again. you dropped the food on the floor, whipping your head to stare at the man beside you who had clearly lost his mind.

"are you crazy?!"

toji was already staring at you, a death glare painting his face, veins protruding in his forehead, his hair half covering his eyes. he looked murderous but you weren't going to back down.

"i'll only tell you this once: stay the fuck away from him and gojo, (name). ya hear me?"

you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms as toji turned and started driving again, flipping off the person that honked for him to go. you didn't take your attention from him though.

"or what? i wouldn't have to go to other men to find out what's going on with my own boyfriend if you'd actually talk to me! for crying out loud, you punched your teammate then act like i'm in the wrong for wanting to know why."

you couldn't believe this is what your first argument with toji was about. not him neglecting your needs five months into your relationship, but him hitting someone and refusing to talk to you about it. it was pathetic really. even more so that you kept giving him the time of the day. his behavior was off and did nothing to help the growing suspicion that he was cheating on you or hiding something worse.

toji ran his free hand down his face but stayed silent, keeping his eyes locked on the road as if he suddenly cared about driving safe when he just slammed on the breaks, nearly giving you whiplash.

"let me out." you sighed. he was close enough to your apartment anyways and you'd rather walk then deal with his bullshit for another minute.

it shouldn't have surprised you when he only mumbled "fine" and pulled into a gas station. speeding off after you slammed the door shut. you were so fucking mad that your brain short circuited and before you could even process what you were doing, you opened instagram and went to the dm you got a few minutes ago, typed in your number and hit the send button.

when you made it back to your place, you sat at the desk in your living room and opened your laptop. that's where you sat for the next four hours, phone turned off, studying for the bar exam. not letting a man distract you from what was actually important.

not until the clock read 5:55pm and you were stretching your sore back as you made your way to the kitchen to get some food, turning your phone on to finally call your dad who answered on the first ring. your face frowned when you were bombarded with notifications but you ignored them for now.

"(name), thank god! are you alright, do you need me to come down there? i'll kill him if he hurt you-" your father rambled, a calm fury lacing his voice that he typically reserved for his opponents in the courtroom.

"i'm fine dad!" you cut him off, anxiety crawling up your spine as you neglected the meal you were going to make, putting him on speaker as you started going through your missed notifications. "i was only studying, i'm sorry it took me so long to call. what's going on?"

"i got a call from a friend who said he saw you a video of you on tmz arguing with that man i told you was no good for you! he could have hurt you driving like that, and then to leave you at a gas station in the middle of winter? i-"

you zoned out as you read all the notifications you missed, clicking on the first one from apple news titled " trouble in paradise already? hockey player toji fushiguro caught in a screaming match with girlfriend (full name)."

you felt like throwing up as you read the article, clicking on the video that was attached and credited to tmz. someone had captured almost the entire thing. from the moment toji stormed from the facility, you chasing shyly behind him, to him speeding off and the person in the car following. the video cuts to him recklessly swerving into the gas station, you slamming the door and him zooming off.

you wanted to shrivel up and die out of pure embarrassment. you had been too angry to think about the fact that your boyfriend is in fact, a well known hockey star and would more than likely be followed by paparazzi or fans. this wouldn't be toji's first time dealing with a scandal but you were far from famous and hated drawing negative attention to yourself.

you swiped down when your phone buzzed again with another notification from instagram. you ignored it and went to the nearly one hundred messages you missed.

shoko (4:00pm): ANSWER YOUR PHONE NOW

shoko (4:00pm): TMZ JUST POSTED YOU ARGUING WITH TOJI. CALL ME!!

shoko (4:01pm): OMG (NAME), WHY IS YOUR PHONE OFF. THIS IS SERIOUS

shoko (4:03pm): im coming over after my shift at the hospital! you better open or I'll kick the door down.

unknown number (3:25pm): hey princess.

unknown number (4:10pm): just saw the video. wanna talk about it? sorry your bf's a dick

toji 💘 (4:05pm): answer the phone now. i'm not fucking around.

toji 💘 (4:07pm): you're a fucking brat, feel better now that you embarrassed us?

and only one missed call from him out of the near one hundred you had gotten from your family and friends.

"i'll call you back dad, i have to go." you hung up before he could respond, saved the new number under "satoru 🏒" and called shoko.

✮

two weeks ago

satoru hadn't spoke to nor seen you since the video of fushiguro leaving you at a gas station was posted. you had missed the game today and satoru held a deep resentment toward his teammate for that. he wanted to see you before the next game tomorrow, which would be taking place in a different city. as would the next seven after that.

you never responded to his text which usually wouldn't bother satoru if it had been literally anyone else. he hadn't stopped thinking about what suguru told him two days ago, the secrets fushiguro was hiding from not just you but the public as well. he knew it wasn't his business.

he reminded himself again that you weren't his girlfriend but he still felt an odd sense of responsibility toward you. an urge to protect your heart from his teammate's bullshit. even if he didn't get you in the end, you didn't deserve what toji was doing behind your back.

that's what led to him grilling the man in the locker room after everyone else had left. he held him back under the guise that he needed to talk to him about his performance at the game today when that couldn't be further from the truth.

"make it quick cap. got some things i need to get done before we fly out." toji glared at him with his arms crossed.

satoru took his time removing his helmet, ruffing up his hair before setting it in his locker. his pads were next, followed by his shinguards and gloves. toji was clearly annoyed, sighing impatiently which only made satoru smirk and shoot him a wink.

"how's (name) holding up?"

toji was immediately defensive, standing straight and moving closer to intimidate satoru, though the captain was still slightly taller than him. "fuck do you care for, gojo? you fuckin her or something?"

"not yet." satoru could lie and say he didn't mean to say it, but where was the fun in that? he loved to see toji riled up and was dying for a reason to lay him out after how he publicly humiliated you.

"don't fuck with me. couldn't give a fuck if you're captain or not, don't disrespect my girl." toji all but hisses.

satoru let his laughter fill the room. loud and obnoxious, stomach squeezing as if what toji said was the funniest thing he'd heard all week. "no, that's just reserved for you right? i knew you were still the same scumbag from college but, a baby? that's a new low, even for you."

toji froze, his eyes doubling in size as all the color drained from his face. his mouth dropped open but he didn't say anything before slamming it shut again. satoru couldn't help but think how weak he looks right now. he hadn’t even mentioned the rumors of his gambling, the pregnancy accusation had been more than enough to leave the man stunned. 

“what is she now? four months? and you’ve been dating (name) for five, which means you’re not only going to be a father but you’re a fucking cheater too.”

having had enough of being scolded like a child, toji locked eyes with his old friend, wondering where they went wrong. years ago he would do anything for him but right now, he never hated anyone more than satoru gojo and he could tell the captain fucking knew it by the way he smirked.

"so what? you gonna run and tell her, act like some kind of prince charming and fuck her while her walls are down. that your goal gojo? you might be as shitty as me."

"oh I'm not gonna say a word to her. you are."

it was toji's turn to laugh, equally as obnoxious. "like fuck i will."

satoru was past finding this entertaining, his face switching into a threatening look as the act dropped, his voice low and threatening as he leaned closer until he was next to toji's ear. "you'll do it, or else i'll be forced to report your illegal gambling to the higher ups. what was the punishment for betting on your own team again? that's it, you'd be kicked out of the league."

✮

present (early march)

you hadn't seen or heard from toji since he left the city two weeks ago, traveling for some games away from home and you were surprisingly calm about it. you'd been knee deep in your studies for the bar exam coming up in july, and didn't have room on your schedule for relationship drama. you were pretty sure you were going to end things anyways but wanted to do it in person.

it turns out that dating famous people wasn't for you. you preferred a lowkey life, one that didn't include getting harassed by your boyfriends fans because: how dare you slam the door of toji fushiguro's car! you ended up making your account private and deleting comments until the hype died down and people moved onto the next big story.

it only took a week of nonstop harrassment, no big deal! then, after you posted a selfie with your account public again, the "she's such a diva!" "the (name) hate was so forced now y'all love her 😂" "that's a baddie right there 💅" comments started pouring in. though you could also thank gojo for that.

he reposted the picture on his story (which you liked) and only captioned it: 🤍

then he commented:

satorugojo: pretty girl (15,340 likes)

you didn't like it, not wanting to stir up any rumors more than he probably already did but it didn't bother you either. your actual reaction was to bite your lip, grinning like a teenage girl with a crush and pull out your rose toy. imagining a certain white haired, blue-eyed hockey player to help push you over the edge. it technically wasn't cheating, especially if your boyfriend ghosted you and you had plans to break up with him anyways.

you were just a girl.

a week after that, the boys were returning from their out of state games and shoko invited you to a party being thrown to celebrate them winning every game (eight in total!). it was a team effort of course, but you knew the real star was gojo. he was a beast on the ice, often being called the king of the rink by sports channels.

you watched a few games on tv, noticing how his teammates passed him the puck and he'd immediately shoot without thinking twice. he never froze, always confident in his ability to carry his team to a win. he was the sniper and captain for a reason, having insanely accurate aim and scoring from angles that seemed near impossible.

his post-game interview only proved how cocky he was.

interviewer: you made that look easy. what happened from your perspective?

gojo: their goalie gave me too much room. that’s on him.

and it was the hottest thing ever. his confidence, the way his white hair stuck to the sweat on his forehead, his dimple flashing whenever he smiled. it's what made you finally decide to text him. it was simple, just a quick "watched the game last night, you killed it! 🐐🏒"

to which he responded: "scored just for you, princess." and you didn't respond but hearted the message then screamed into your pillow.

now you were squeezing into a black dress that hugged your figure nicely and matching tights after telling yourself you were done with the public scene. unfortunately shoko was your best friend and you always had trouble telling her no.

you let your hair down tonight, spraying on your favorite japanese cherry blossom perfume as she walked into your bathroom.

she wore a dress similar to yours, only hers was purple and she slung a leather jack over her shoulders that had the teams logo and colors. the upper right patch sporting the number "2", which was geto's number. you didn't mention it but smirked to yourself.

"you look hot as fuck. think toji's gonna be jealous when his own team is drooling over you?"

you groaned as you applied your clear lip gloss, not wanting to hear his name. you still had to break up with him and weren't looking forward to it. you planned to pull him aside at the party where there would be plenty of people to thwart the explosive reaction you knew you would get in private.

"he should be." was all you said before she was pulling you out the door and into an uber. the party was more private and at geto's house, so you were glad there wouldn't be as much paparazzi as a nightclub might have.

you found yourself playing with your thumbs the entire twenty minute drive there, watching as the city lights faded into trees as you made your way into the hills. buildings turning into mansions, the stars in the sky becoming more visible with less light pollution.

you were nervous about breaking up with toji but more anxious about seeing gojo. especially after he reposted you on his story and called you pretty girl in your very much public comment section. his publicist probably scolded him for that one. as far as the public knew, you were still with toji.

"ready?" shoko grabbed onto you, stopping your fidgeting hands as the car slowed down in front of a surprisingly modest sized home, compared to the other ones in the neighborhood. your stomach twisted at the sound of loud music and at least fifty cars parked in the street and in front of geto's three garages.

you thanked the driver before stepping out of the car, heels clicking against the pavement as your friend pulled you toward the gates. there was one man waiting with a camera strapped across his neck, though he quickly lifted it when he spotted you.

multiple flashes started going off and you had to block your eyes as he started yelling. "(name)! you here to see toji or gojo?" "(name), what happened that day at the gas station? seemed heated!" you ignored every question while shoko told him to fuck off and pulled you through the gates after confirming her invitation with security.

you tried to blink the light spots away and not allow that creep to ruin your night. you didn't understand how stalking people just to get their photo wasn't illegal but that was a problem for another day because you were at the front door that had been left wide open. the bass from the song playing giving you a boost of confidence as you slid your jacket off and threw it on one of the racks at the front door.

you didn't know what to do with yourself so you let shoko pull you along, "geto said they'd be out back by the pool!"

oh. it was that kind of party. it's not that you didn't know how to swim, just that you needed a very good reason to do so plus it was cold as fuck. you weren't a fan. you didn't even think about the fact that shoko had geto's number as she kept dragging you through a sea of bodies.

couples were basically fucking as they danced to the music, men and women alike were throwing back shots like no tomorrow, someone was throwing up in the corner. it was only eleven and these kind of events lasted until three of four in the morning. not that you'd be staying any longer than needed to satisfy your friend.

the pool was big with checker style tiles at the bottom and matching black sun chairs on each side of it. most were being occupied by members of the team you recognized, a pretty girl or guy on their lap. some people splashing each other in the pool.

on the lawn kicking a ball back and forth was gojo, suguru and a few other men you'd never seen before. toji was there too, standing with his back against the fence, playful smirk on his face, dressed in a plain black shirt and jeans. you froze when he looked up and made eye contact with you.

"i think i'll wait inside, you go ahead!" you pulled away from your friend before she could stop you and bolted into the house, toji following while yelling your name.

you pretended you didn't hear him as you entered the music bumping house, in search of a drink and an escape. your nerves were getting the best of you. you'd never actually broken up with someone before, opting to just let them ghost you or you ghost them. this was different, toji was obviously not going to let that happen like you hoped he would.

what were you even supposed to say? "hey, I'm really sorry but i'm not feeling the spark between us anymore and I think we should break up. oh by the way, I have a fat crush on your captain." you guess that wasn't really bad as long as you left out the last part.

you beelined toward geto's kitchen, pushing past people and moving around the island to get to the fridge. pulling it open you sighed in relief that there was one last bottle of heineken, grabbing it greedily before cracking it open against the counter. you didn't really drink but knew you would need it in order to survive this conversation that loomed over you like a dark cloud.

your entire body tensed when you heard him enter the room, yelling your name and making you want to die of embarrassment as a few people stared. how did this become your life? this is exactly why you didn't date in the first place!

you took a few sips before setting it on the counter and turning. time to face the music.

he moved toward you with a frown, having the nerve to look confused at the fact that you might not want to talk to him. it was going to be a long night.

"what the fuck? why are you ignoring me?" he grabbed onto your arm but you were quick to snatch it away. scoffing in disgust when he started checking you out. "the fuck are you doing wearing that short ass dress out the house like you're not in a relationship?"

"ha! are we even together still? I haven't heard from you in two weeks dipshit." you put more space between the two of you, pressing your back against the counter as he moved closer. he reeked of alcohol and weed, the white of his eyes turning red, eyelids slightly droopy.

he bit his jaw, taking in a deep breath and looking around before speaking. "i've been focused on the games, y'know that. can we talk in private?"

"absolutely fucking not. whatever you need to say you can say it right here." you hardly had time to process what was happening before he yanked your arm and started pulling you to the front door. you were too stupefied to protest, letting him control your body until you were on the front lawn where only a few security guards were, paparazzi guy gone.

you yanked away from him again, giving him your best death glare as you stopped yourself from smacking his face off.

"speak and make it quick, i don't wanna spend all night arguing." you could tell toji was taken aback by your tone by the way he leaned away from you. you had never talked to him this way, acted so indifferent toward him.

"listen.. first i need you to know that i wasn't ignoring ya on purpose. i knew you were pissed and wanted to give you the space you need to cool off. you think we can actually talk now?"

"i'm still standing here aren't i?" you needed to keep your act up. seeming cold would make it easier to break up with him. he needed to understand that there was no saving this relationship and being sweet wouldn't help that.

"you're a fucking brat." he ran a hand down his face, suddenly interested in your heels. "don't kill me, doll. i need you to understand that i wasn't thinking straight when it happened. everything was moving too fast, i was drunk and didn't wear protection-"

you already knew where this was going, heart about to leap out of your chest as you squinted your eyes at him, humiliation crashing into you like a wave. all this time your suspicion had been valid, the red flags so obvious only a fool would ignore them. and boy were you the fucking fool.

honestly the entire thing was funny. here he was trying to find a way to tell you that he cheated on you, while you were trying to find a way to break up with him. kind of poetic how everything came together in the end.

but no protection? he either was about to tell you he'd gotten another woman pregnant or he contracted something from her.

"fuck are you laughing for? i didn't even finish-"

"oh you definitely did finish. god you're so pathetic. so which is it toji? do you have a baby on the way or do i need to get an std screening?" you had always worn condoms with him but you could never be too sure about anything. your hands started to tremble despite trying to hide it.

"the former." he grumbled. nice.

this was really fucking nice. you hit the goldmine when picking him over gojo huh? you regretted hiding your feelings all this time, forcing yourself to be with someone who wasn't even your type. who was originally only a door to get access to another man.

"wow. i have to hand it to you toji, you really embarrassed me in ways i didn't think possible. well, good luck with that." you moved to push past him, wanting to get back to your beer before you lost your shit. only the man grabbed your arm, holding you still as you tried to wiggle away from him. he wasn't letting up, squeezing hard enough to keep you still.

"that's it, really?" he looked hurt. he looked hurt. oh my god, if you got anymore mad than you already were you'd probably explode. literally.

"aww, was i supposed to cry? because honestly, i’m just embarrassed i stayed this long. you weren't even my first choice, won't be too hard moving on."

you moved to pull away again but toji was furious this time, pulling you back hard enough to make you stumble but he kept you upright, pulling close enough that you had to look up to face him. "the fuck are you talking about?"

his eyes were dark, set in an untamed fury but all you could do was grin. you were starting to get cold and needed this conversation to be over. "don't make me laugh toji. you didn't seriously think i was at that party looking for you? it's a shame gojo wasn't there that night or else i could have avoided wasting my time with this."

“hey you piece of fucking shit! let go of her before i break your wrists."

your heart sped up at the sound of gojo's voice coming from behind toji. you looked past him and there he was, wearing a tight black nike shirt that showed off all his muscles. with grey sweats that hung low on his hips and exposed the top of his boxers, but you were too busy staring at the huge dick print pressing against his pants.

holy shit. you were soaking your panties as another man had you yanked up and looked ready to kill you.

"mind your fucking business gojo." toji hissed but kept his eyes locked on you while you kept your eyes on the man behind him.

gojo looked pissed but winked at you before he started to move, making his way to the front lawn before stopping a few feet away from toji.

"i said let her go before i beat your fucking ass fushiguro."

toji huffed out a laugh, turning to look at his teammate. he wasn't stupid enough to think he could outright beat him in a fight. gojo was more on the lean side but that didn't equal weak, and toji knew that by having his fair share of fights with him when they were younger.

it didn't help that you were looking at the man like you were about to start drooling and clawing at him. he doesn't know why he didn't put it together before. the way your eyes would drift while he kissed you at games, the eagerness to join him at every party they had, the fact that you were following gojo on instagram but not him.

toji had never been checkmated like this and did the first thing that came to his intoxicated mind. he turned so he was facing gojo, moving his hand from your arm to the middle of your back and smirked. the feeling sending chills down your spine, eyes wide at the action.

"you want him so bad? there he is, whore." and he pushed you so hard that you gasped as you tripped and twisted your ankle. but before you could hit the grass, gojo caught you, his arms wrapping around your body and pulling you against him.

"are you fucking insane?! i'm gonna kill you fushiguro!" gojo roared at the man's retreating body moving to the front gates, starting up his motorcycle and speeding away.

gojo made to follow but you tightened your grip on his shirt, biting your lip as you stared at him. head titled back, hair falling from your heated face. "don't leave. it-it hurts to stand."

gojo looked conflicted before looking back at you. a rush of desire flooded you from the intense stare he gave you, fury and worry written across his face, his blue eyes glowing a little brighter under the moonlight. "shit, okay okay, uhm- let me just-"

and the world titled when he bent and picked you up, your arms immediately going to wrap around his neck. holding you bridal style as he walked back into the house and made his way toward the stairs. most people minded their business, though some stared and whispered to each other:

"what's she doing with him?

"isn't that toji's girl?"

"didn't you see the video? i think they broke up."

only shutting up when gojo shot them all a promising glare. you just tucked your head into his neck, inhaling the smell of his cologne, a mixture a vanilla and something spicy. you heart was thumping so hard that you felt it in your throat, the feeling of one of his arms under your legs while the other was dangerously close to your left boob.

you were on fire. body too busy buzzing with excitement to acknowledge the slight sting in your ankle.

he kept a firm grip, holding you close to his chest as he started moving up the stairs. he didn't say anything as he kept walking until he reached the first bedroom.

"get out." he told the couple that sounded like they were in the middle of making out. you didn't know as you kept your head hidden in gojo's neck, only feeling the wind they left behind as they rushed out and slammed the door behind them.

"i'm gonna sit you on the bed alright, princess?" his voice was loud against your ear as you refused to move your head, the vibrations from his throat sending butterflies to your dripping cunt. you could feel your juices coating your inner thighs and you weren't even embarrassed. you were sure gojo heard what you told toji and he was still here with you which meant there was a possibility he wanted you to.

you nuzzled your nose against the side of neck, inhaling deep to savor his smell. had he been drinking? you didn't smell any alcohol and for some reason that turned you on even more.

you heard him take in a sharp breath, his grip on you tightening and a small groan escaping his lips. "that's not fair darling. i gotta take a look at your ankle. can i do that first?"

"y-yes." but you still whined when he gently sat you on the edge of the bed, moving to his knees in front of you to inspect your injury.

you sighed in relief when he slipped your first heel off, his low raspy chuckle making your pussy contract against nothing. "hmm, not this foot then?"

you finally looked at him and your head spun with how hot he looked between your legs, staring up at you with those sharp blue eyes and a grin on his face. looking like he was made to be between your legs.

you wanted so badly to pull his hair and guide his face toward where you actually needed him to take care of you.

✮

satoru gojo realized that he was a very weak man when it came to you. no one had ever had him on his knees as he checked them for injuries, nor had they ever moaned so blatantly at an innocent touch. it made his entire body hum with need.

he fought every urge, every instinct to rip those stupid tights off your body and plunge his face between your legs. he wanted to lick you until you were squirting on his tongue and riding his face, calling out his name and his only. then he'd fuck you in that dress, make you cream all over his dick while he filled you until you begged for him to stop.

but he couldn't, remembering the conversation he had with toji in the locker room.

you were vulnerable right now whether you realized that or not. having a bombshell dropped on you, being manhandled by that ogre and then fucking you would be wrong. and that's how satoru knew he was fucked because had you been anyone else, he'd already be inside of you.

he was careful with your next foot, slowly removing the heel and freezing halfway when you hissed in pain. he was actually going to kill fushiguro, but he needed to take care of you first.

"let me know when to move, princess." and the way your body shivered had him feeling like he was the messiah himself. you nodded your head and bit your lip, never breaking eye contact with him. it made him feel..nervous? his friends would never fucking believe that. probably would tease him endless if they knew how much you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger.

he controlled himself, took your heel off all the way and stood. looking down at you while you were leaned back with your arms behind your body to keep you upright, staring at him like the sun rises and sets on him. satoru had overheard what you said to toji, that you had been looking for him the day you got with him. it made him feel a little less crazy for this obsession he's had with you, knowing you wanted him too.

you wanted him!

"stand for me. wanna make sure it's just hurting and not sprained or broken." satoru was no doctor but he had his fair share of injuries with being a hockey player.

when you stood, that skimpy dress of yours rose just a little and exposed the under curves of your hips before you pulled it down. yeah, you were trying to kill him and he would gladly let you. it was almost sad, honestly. if only satoru were able to easily feel shame.

"what's it feel like?"

"just stings a bit but i can put weight on it."

"good."

then it was silent. painfully so. you were fiddling with your fingers, looking everywhere but at him and he was fighting the urge to pull your body against him. it didn't have to be sexual, he just really wanted to touch you. make you feel special in all the ways toji had never done, to make you forget the hurt he watched you try to hide.

"look, i'm sure you heard what i told-"

"was it true?" and he responded so fast that it made you chuckle and step closer to him. warm cheeks was the closest he'd feel to embarrassment. like i said, the man rarely felt shame.

"yes."

and then he was reaching toward, placing both of his hands against your hips and pulling you tight against him, internally smiling at the way you gasped. he grabbed your chin and lifted your face to his, almost laughing at how blown out your eyes were. his pretty princess. seems he wasn't the only one whipped.

he leaned forward until his lips ghosted over yours. he could feel your breath clashing with his, an magnetic force buzzing between you, two opposites trying to latch together. "now's the time to tell me to stop."

and when you responded: "why would i do that?" he let his lips press against yours. it was slow, not rushed and messy like how he kissed his dates. you deserve more than that. he took his time, committing the way you felt to memory, trying not to cum in his pants.

the air around you both is charged, walls closing in on satoru as he lost himself to you. the floor shifting beneath him, music lowly thumping in the background as he tuned the world out and focused only on you and your very soft lips. then he teased them with his tongue, testing boundaries. so that's what your lipgloss tasted like.

stars burst behind his eyes when you connected your tongue with his. he groaned into your mouth as he deepened the kiss and your hands slowly crept up his chest, manicured nails lightly scratching his muscles.

he knew he should stop things here but his mind was gone and soon enough he was pushing you back to the bed, letting your body fall before he was back on you. he settled between the legs you so willingly spread for him, his throbbing cock pushing against your pussy. his lips locked against yours.

"satoru." you moaned when he started trailing kisses to your neck, hips grinding against his length as you gripped the sheets and the man was actually shaking.

that was the first time he heard you say his first name. most people opted to call him by his surname, which was normal in his culture but to hear the way it fell from your lips.. he thought he might be in love with you.

"fuck princess. you smell so good, got my dick leaking right now. y'know that?" then he was back above you before he got to the point of no return, reminding himself that he said he wouldn't take advantage of you. he typically wasn't a very patient man when it came to taking care of his needs, but for you he would try.

"i can't, i-i'm sorry" and satoru hadn't stuttered since he was child, but this was the man you had reduced him to. he quickly removed himself from you, sitting on the bed next to you as he placed his elbows on his bouncing legs, head in his hands as he attempted to regain some kind of control.

"what? why the fuck not?" you shot up, looking at the man beside you like he had an extra head. hurt in your voice that had him lifting his head to look at you. your eyes were glossy and it nearly broke his composure. his heart sunk at the thought that you might think he didn't want you.

"can't take advantage of you like that-"

"you're not! i want this just as much as you do, why are you doing this?" and if he knew how desperately you'd wanted been wanting him for the past two years, then maybe it would be a different story. but he didn't, so he stood his ground.

literally. he leaped up from the bed, dragging his hand through his hair as he paced the room.

"i won't take advantage of you like that. you just broke up with your boyfriend after finding out he cheated on you and then he-"

"i know what he did." and his heart cracked just a little at the glare you shot at him. he never wanted to be at the center of your ire, even if you looked fucking adorable with your lips set in a pout.

"then you understand why i can't fuck you right now, as much as i want to."

then you were standing and making your way to him, favoring your right leg and satoru started thinking of what weapon he would use to kill toji. he moved to help you, attempting to lead you back to the bed and mumbling about going to get you ice but you stopped him.

"satoru..i appreciate the concern, but i've been wanting this for a very long time."

he couldn't help the shit eating grin that spread across his face. he was still satoru gojo after all and your words did nothing to help his already large ego.

"yeah?" he whispered, running the back of his hand down your cheek, amused at the way you shivered against him. "tell me how long, beautiful. how many times did you touch yourself and imagine it was me instead?"

"two years."

oh.. his eyes darkened and in a flash his mouth was back on yours and your bodies were once again tangled together on the bed. your equally aroused moans filled the room, the party long forgotten as he gripped your hips and ground his aching cock into you. trying not to cum at the way you were squirming beneath him, begging him for more.

new plan: satoru was going to eat your pussy until you screamed his name and burst on his tongue.

✮

you were gone beneath gojo. your pussy was throbbing, head thrown back in pure ecstasy, heart trying to break free of your chest. he hiked your dress up your hips, taking care to caress them before he kissed his way down your body.

he was savoring you, his teeth lightly nipping at your inner things before he sat back on his legs and stared down at you like he were a god and you his worshipper. the room was dark save for the moonlight and it gave his eyes an unnatural glow. his white hair falling to his eyes before he pushed it back.

"lift your hips for me, princess."

your breath caught, face on fire and tingling as you obeyed the man above you. strong hands instantly grip the top of your black tights, slowly pulling them down your body along with your panties. your juices had escaped your underwear and stuck to your thighs and the sight had gojo ripping the tights of you, no longer as patient as he once seemed.

"gonna make you feel so good. make you forget all about that bastard. that okay, love?" the way he was eyeing your bare pussy as he settled his face between your thighs had your nipples hardening, your entire body hypersensitive to the man below you. he noses your thighs, kissing and biting like a man starved.

you couldn't tell if he was joking or not. you were practically a puddle beneath him and he still questioned if you wanted him. "yes! god, yes. please, i need you satoru."

he was immediately on you, licking a long stripe from your hole to your clit before sucking on it hard. you threw your hand back, hands moving to grab his hair as you started riding against his face. the way he ate you like you were his last meal would be the death of you. you couldn't take in full breaths, too busy moaning like a whore and fucking yourself against the man that plagued your thoughts for two fucking years.

"taste as good as you look." he mumbled against your pussy, the heat of his breath making you shake violently. he was quick to add two fingers, pushing them deep while your back arched off the bed.

your moans were pornographic when you looked down at him, his eyes locked solely on yours.

you would feel embarrassed by the sounds you were making so obviously telling him you hadn't been touched in a while, if he didn't look drunk on your pussy. his eyes rolling back as he curled his fingers inside of you and sucked harder. your squishy walls tightening around him.

"satoru! oh my god, ngghhh m'gonna cum- haaah!"

he pumped his fingers faster, his other hand gripping your hip and pulling you flat against his face. the feel of his nose nuzzling against you had you squirting against his mouth, your own dropped open in a silent scream as you tightened your thighs against his head.

he groaned and drunk up everything you gave him. gojo looked feral, like he would die if he missed even a drop. the feeling so intense that you were momentary blinded by the white pulsing pleasure rushing through your body from head to toe.

✮

two days later gojo texted you while you were doing some shopping with shoko. he had been doing that a lot since that night, texting and calling you when he wasn't practicing or doing whatever hockey players did when they weren't on the ice.

satoru 👅 (2:10pm): ever been ice skating?

you (2:10pm): no lol, i'd fall and break my neck 🤦‍♀️ no thank you.

that was how you found yourself standing rock solid in the rink of his practice facility. he assured you no one would be there today and he was careful to sneak you in the back to avoid paparazzi.

you tried to protest, really you did but he was annoyingly determined.

"i don't have skates."

"i'll buy you some"

"what if I fall?"

"i won't let you."

"i've never done this before."

"i'll teach you."

an hour and a half later here you were scowling at the man currently hovering over you, wearing those stupid white skates he got you, trying not to fall on your ass. you dressed yourself in blue jeans, a plain long sleeved white shirt and your faux fur jacket to keep you warm. your hair tied tight behind your head.

he was dressed in black sweatpants, black skates and a #1 blue jersey that he wore over a long sleeve shirt.

"don't look at me like that, princess. makes my dick hard."

he pulls you closer and you slide forward, almost falling because you were clueless as fuck and didn't think to move your legs. he smirked when you fell to his chest, his blue eyes sparkling at you.

he gripped your chin before placing a gentle kiss to your lips and moving to stand beside you. you were swooning, but made sure to hide that from the man who was obviously trying to humiliate you.

"relax your ankles. you look tense as fuck, that's only gonna make this harder."

you shot him a "keep talking, i dare you" look but listened to him anyways. trying your best to relax and remind yourself that satoru was a professional and wouldn't let anything happen to you.

"start by putting one foot in front of the other. we're just gonna glide, nothing crazy."

he waited for you to move first, his patience surprising you. satoru was the complete opposite during his games, a beast on the rink that earned him a spot amongst the greatest at his young age. and here he was, hand reaching to grab yours. letting you to make the first move. it gave you butterflies.

you sucked in a deep breath before grounding yourself. "ok, i'm ready."

satoru placed a kiss to the side of your head before skating in front of you so he could guide you. you had insisted on staying by the board, which you gripped like your life depended on it.

slowly you let your feet move you forward, marching more than actually gliding but you were moving and that was all that mattered. even if the man in front of you was obviously holding back a laugh while you were actively fighting for survival.

"you're doing great, now try to actually slide. you're not in a marching band."

it took you a while but when you started to get the hang of it, you were doing something close enough to skating to satisfy satoru. he praised you the entire time. telling you how hot you looked on his turf, how you were his real life ice princess, how he was going to eat your pussy real good if you stayed upright.

he was driving you up a wall. showing off when you finally found the courage to push off the wall, skating around you and stealing kisses that left you flustered. he started skating backwards effortlessly, arms crossed at his chest as he smiled at you with pride written across his face.

you personally had no idea how he did this for a living. while you were mostly doing ok now, you still struggled to stay up right, arms in front you just in case you fell. he always made it look so easy but you realized just how chaotic this sport could be.

after a little more showing off, he skated behind you with his hands on your hips and his mouth littering your neck with kisses. he squeezed you against him as he shifted weight and dug the blade into the ice, easing you both into a stop.

"you did great babe."

you let your head fall back on his chest, legs tucked between his as you came back down to earth. one of his hands left your hip, while the other rubbed circles against your exposed skin. you didn't even realize he was taking a picture until your phone was blowing up with notifications later that night.

satorugojo tagged you in a photo

satorugojo: future first overall pick

and the comments went crazy.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‎note: i'm thirsting over the jjk men real bad right now and need gojo inside of me RAW! also sorry if anything is inaccurate, i crammed some hockey research in before and while writing this 😅 ps: i'm american so it might be diff in your country! did y'all catch that shatter me reference? 🤭

Buying pretty lacy lingerie for you to wear on your next stream. Sending in requests to see you in different positions or using different toys. Getting personal chats from you – sometimes even little recordings of your soft voice saying good morning. 

Gojo probably replayed that one a hundred times getting ready, running his fingers through his hair to comb it and tossing on a fresh t-shirt and a pair of jeans from his floor after a fast shower, already running late to join Shoko and Suguru for their usual weekend brunch. Racing to make it there, sweat sticking to his arm pits by the time he pushed open the doors to some small hole-in-the-wall diner, the smell of bacon hitting him as he eyed a thick stack of pancakes on the closest table. 

“Over here,” Shoko dryly called out, a flash of movement drawing his stare over to where she was sitting next to Suguru in a corner booth. 

Gojo half-jogged to join them, mouth open and ready to offer an excuse before Suguru’s judgemental stare dragged over his sorry state. 

“You’re late,” he commented. “Jerking off to her again?” 

His friends didn’t understand.

Didn’t think that it was actually you, at least, messaging him. 

Shoko called him a creep for having a crush on some stranger he’d only seen through a screen. Suguru, though? He was a bit more…creative.

“No,” Gojo defensively said, blushing hard as he slid in the booth across from them.

“Sorry, were you speaking to your AI girlfriend?” He deadpanned, cocking his head to the side. Goji heard it all before, most commonly when they went to the gym together to work out – which he admittedly only started doing when he started privately messaging you.

“She’s not-” Gojo huffed. “I-I-”

Shoko raised an eyebrow, not really believing him either as he stammered out weak protests.

You were real. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, his entire face lighting up as he read the chat. He’d changed your contact to something more intimate, even though logically, he knew it was probably cringy and Suguru would be sure to tell him as much if he ever saw it. 

princess <3: toruuuuuuu

princess <3: how are you today? 

His fingers were hurrying to type a reply, clumsily hitting letters just to have to furiously erase and fix his typos before he hit send. 

blu3yedbigd1ck: Dreamed about you last night. 

Suguru reached across the table and snatched his phone, dark brows furrowing as he scanned over the messages before his nose scrunched up in disgust. 

“God, dude, could you not have picked something less creepy?” He groaned, tossing it back to him like he might have to pour bleach in his eyes out if he read any more. “You might as well have told her you jerked-” 

Buzz. Buzz.

You already replied. 

He was ignoring the rest of Suguru’s lecture, looking down at his lit-up screen to see your flirty replies back.

princess <3: oh yeah?

princess <3: what position? 

His dick was getting hard again. 

Straining inside his underwear as he shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. Trying to hide the fact he was about to be sporting a bulge as he stared dumbly at your little contact photo, unable to convince his own thumb to move to type.

But then bubbles popped up, and you were sending a third message. 

princess <3: i was actually thinking about u too

That meant something, right? It had to.

“He's not even fucking listening,” Suguru complained, and Shoko was saying something back, pulling out cigarettes from her purse with a sigh, but he couldn't bother to look up. 

Glued to the rectangle in his hands as a picture popped up in the chat. 

There was nothing lewd about it, a perfectly innocent photo of you smiling in a pretty blue sweatshirt – and it somehow made it so much more intimate. 

Blushing as you sent something else, trying to suppress his stuttering and swelling heart as it pounded inside his chest. 

princess <3: your favorite color? 

blu3yedbigd1ck: My favorite everything.

“Can you pay attention for like, two minutes?” Suguru groaned, and Gojo had to shove his phone back in his pocket, palms sweaty as he tried to focus on his best friend. Suguru was sighing, nodding towards the waitress walking over. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, wiping his hands off on his jeans before glancing over his menu. 

But even half a plate of pancakes later, sipping on soda while Suguru talked about his problems with women – ones with warm bodies that had actually been in his bed – he was barely listening at all. Just nodding along, readjusting his glasses up the bridge of his nose and licking the syrup off his fingers. Shoko had stepped outside, her outline visible through the window as she leaned against the wall, the last of a cigarette dangling from her lips as small puffs of smoke floated past. 

“You know,” Suguru sighed, dragging Gojo’s back from his daydream about being at a place like this on a date with you. What would you order? Would you sit across from him? Slide into the booth next to him and lean your head on his shoulder? 

“Huh?” Gojo blinked, gripping his fork a little too tight. 

“I was just saying I could probably hook you up with someone,” he said, thick fingers wrapping around the handle of his coffee mug, one brow arched as he tried to assess Gojo’s reaction. 

“Nah,” Gojo shrugged, the idea of going out with any girl that wasn't you making his skin crawl underneath his shirt. “Not interested.” 

Suguru’s jaw clenched, ready to call him a moron when Shoko strolled back in, easily reading the situation. 

“He said no?” She asked, as if she'd been expecting it. 

“I mean, I just don't really have time for a relationship right now, y’know-” Gojo started bluffing, trying to make it sound casual.

“You're too busy talking to a girl who probably uses a chat bot to talk to twenty other guys online,” Suguru sarcastically finished for him. 

“She's not like that,” he protested, an ugly feeling stirring up in his stomach. 

“You pay her to talk to you,” Suguru reminded him, and even though he was right, it still stung. “Wouldn't you rather be with a girl who likes you for you?” 

How was he supposed to explain that he didn't care if you only wanted him for his wallet?

Gojo only wanted you. 

But Suguru’s question stuck in his head. Stayed there for the rest of the day, going back home to stare at his chats with you, all the ones where you listened to him rant and ramble about his favorite games and shows, asking questions and exchanging interests. Looking back through the photos you sent him and the few he scrounged up the courage to send back. It was never his whole face, just part of his eyes or his hands. Most of the pictures he sent were of his meals, desserts he made or bought from his favorite sweets shop. 

Did you think he was annoying?

Just a loser in love with you? 

He turned his phone off, tossing it on his nightstand next to the tissues and lube as he collapsed on his bed, pulling the pillow down over his face as he groaned into it. Even when his eyes were shut, he still saw you behind them. 

And the moment his phone started ringing with the specific notification he set to know you were streaming, he was sitting back up, scrambling to grab his laptop and switch to the tab always reserved for you. 

It was funny how fast he forgot about everything else the second he saw your pretty face blinking back at him. Sitting up straight in a computer chair this time, no longer in that soft blue sweatshirt and instead in a barely-there nightgown that didn't leave much to the imagination as you greeted people joining the chat. 

blu3yedbigd1ck: Hi beautiful

He hesitated, before adding a definitely absurd number of heart emojis he hoped would catch your attention. 

“Hi there,” you hummed, face lighting up – and he held onto the hope it was directed towards him. “I have a little announcement to make today.”

You twirled a loose strand of hair around a finger, looking into the camera like you could see him through it. 

“In honor of my latest milestone,” you started, smiling so pretty it was practically blinding. Struck with cupid’s arrow as he stared hopelessly at his screen, spit pooling in the back of his mouth and hanging onto your every word. “I wanted to host a very special celebration stream.” 

The chat was already going crazy. Message after message being spammed, people sending in requests, emojis, compliments and complaints before you even announced what it’d be. Your eyes flickered over to where the chat was, reading the messages like you were waiting for one. 

His fingers were already flying across his keyboard.

blu3yedbigd1ck: You know I’ll be there. 

It was probably his imagination, but your face relaxed more, features brightening as you tilted your head to the side.

“One of my lucky top three spenders will get invited at the end of the month to join me on stream,” you softly said, and his brain stopped working. 

Your words jumbled up and echoing in his head, pulled apart and pieced back together as he struggled to make sense of it. 

Join you? Like, actually, meeting you? And if it was on stream, did you mean-

“Our winner will get to pick whatever they want to do with me,” you winked, before starting to rattle off a few rules and regulations you were obligated to – mentioning that you'd cover the costs of the plane ticket but that they'd have to pass a background check, blah blah blah – but Gojo was still stuck on that first sentence. 

Anything he wanted? 

Would you really take his virginity? Let him fuck you into those pretty pink sheets of yours until it was stained with your tears and his cum? 

(Even if he was probably the one that would end up crying?)

You didn't say it was a competition. 

But it immediately came apparent it was one after the donations started flooding in. People desperate to make you theirs. Losers like him itching to feel you for themselves. 

Gojo had to fucking win. 

He had watched almost every stream of yours. Even ones where you worked with other cam girls or guys, but he didn't know if he'd be able to stand his own jealousy if he wasn't on top. 

Or the one underneath you for this. 

The other assholes in your chat wouldn't appreciate you as much as he would. Wouldn't worship your body how he would. Adore every little twitch and tremble they earned. 

Gojo was fumbling to grab his wallet off his nightstand, flipping through to find his credit card with the highest limit. His fingers were shaking as he typed in the information, barely listening to you talk about how you would donate a portion of the proceeds to some charity, just clicking away before sending an exorbitant sum your way. 

A flicker of pride shot through him at how wide your eyes went when you saw it, suddenly stammering as your breath hitched in your throat. 

“To-” You stopped yourself, catching the nickname before it could slip off your tongue. “You guys don't have to donate that much, I’m-”

He sent another one just to see the way your lips pressed together as you shut up.

Other people were sending in donations too, but it wasn’t like they could match his. Could measure up to him. 

Although some of them tried, a few annoying contenders attempting to catch up when you shifted back to your more normal streaming mode, switching to a different camera and getting settled on your bed. A toy between your thighs, one that sucked softly on your clit as you threw your head back and filled his room with sounds of your breathy moans. 

But his eyes were skimming over the chat, scared that his spot as top donator would be replaced. Honestly, it was the first time in fucking forever that he didn’t have his hand down his pants when watching you, too stressed that he might lose an opportunity he didn’t know if he’d ever get again. 

He was fucking sweating, white strands of hair sticking to his forehead while he listened to you whine, prettily panting as he squinted at someone complaining that he was probably someone spending his daddy’s money to win. 

Which okay, wasn’t totally untrue. 

But they’d do the same if they were him. 

He’d do anything to be with you. 

Even if Suguru thought he was a moron. Even if you were only interested in him for money. Even if the most he’d ever realistically get with you was one night – and that was if he was lucky. 

But luck was one of the few things he did have. 

Fortune favored him – and after a few weeks of sending in donations every time he thought someone else might manage to usurp him, despite your private messages pleading with him that he really didn’t need to, that he was already in the lead, he couldn’t stop himself. 

“Satoru,” you said his name like you were scolding him. “I told you-” 

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” He changed the subject, listening to your little huff on the other end of the phone call you asked him for. Another little perk of his VIP membership. Sometimes, he sort of felt more like a sugar daddy, although he didn’t think the kind of guys that did that were usually twenty-something virgins who had never actually experienced the touch of a woman. 

“Well, no,” you sighed, and he was already picturing what face you might be making. Were you pouting? Pushing out your bottom lip? Were your brows kitted together? 

What kind of faces did you make when no one was around to see them? 

“You can order yourself something,” he muttered. There was a brief pause, and he just knew you were still fighting to find something to argue with him with. 

Did you not want him to win? 

“I just don’t want you to not be able to eat,” you eventually said. 

It took him a few seconds to process what you were saying. 

That you, of all people, were concerned about him. 

That was what Suguru didn’t understand. He didn’t know you. Didn’t get that you weren’t solely selfish or greedy. You cared. 

“Sweetheart,” he lightly chuckled, heart soaring. “I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” You asked, voice lilting like it never did in your streams. It wasn’t practiced or put-together. This version of you, one he couldn’t even see, was somehow more real when it was raw like this. “You’re already like, way ahead of everyone else, y’know, I just-” 

“I want to take care of you,” he quietly interrupted, awkward and nervous as he barely managed to not stutter. 

Gojo meant it. 

And he’d make sure you’d see it. Sooner or later. Still making sure his username stayed at the top in every stream until the end of the month crept closer and closer. Until he was anxiously tapping his foot on the floor of his bedroom, cock aching in his boxers as the moonlight drifted in through his window while he watched the strap of your lingerie slip off your shoulder. 

He held his breath, heart thrumming loudly inside his chest as he waited for you to say it. Hoping for you and hating himself at the same time for being so pathetically attached to someone so out of his league. 

“I’m going to message our winner of our little contest privately once the stream’s over,” you said, a gleam in your eyes he imagined was only for him as you addressed the audience. 

He was pretty sure the seconds stretched out into hours once his screen went dark after you ended it. Staring down at his phone and choking on his own spit, desperately willing for a new message to pop up. 

One did, but it was from Suguru, asking if he was busy. 

Suguru: Can I drop by? I’m like five minutes from you  

Gojo grimaced, ready to throw his phone on the bed, replaying what you’d first mentioned when you announced it. You just said one of the top three spenders, didn't you? So what if the guy in second place got it? Or even third? 

Fuck, he should’ve paid more attention, shouldn’t he? 

Now there was no fucking chance-

princess <3: soooo are you doing anything on the 30th?

He almost screamed. Or squealed. Or whatever the most manly version of crying in relief was, all the tension in his body suddenly snapping like a rubber band as he read and reread your message. 

Gojo won. He won.

blu3yedbigd1ck: Just tell me the time and place and you know I’ll come.

And cum. 

He paused, thumb hovering over his screen as he practically hyperventilated, freaking out inside and thankful you couldn’t see his face right now as he stood up just to pace. Did he sound suave? At least a little cool and collected? 

princess <3: promise? 

princess <3: send me your information? 

He still couldn’t believe this was fucking real. That it was really happening to him. He still hesitated to type it out – wondering what you would do once you had his name. What would a background check reveal? 

That he was a dork who rarely left his apartment outside of his responsibilities or the occasional hangout with his only two real friends? That he collected Digimon figurines? 

He sent everything over with a fear that you’d find something out that would make you change your mind. Maybe you’d think he was just a loser riding on his family’s name like most other people did. 

Or you-

Someone knocked on his door hard enough he froze and hit send on accident. His message with his full name in it immediately marked as seen, his cheeks heating up as he forced himself to look up as the pounding outside continued. 

“Hey, put your dick up and answer the door,” Suguru called out. 

Gojo grabbed his pajamas from where he’d left them on the floor earlier, hurrying to pull them up his legs before groaning at the realization it didn’t have any pockets. You hadn’t replied yet, but he couldn’t bring himself to just leave his phone on his bed, gripping it tightly in his palm as he hurried to go see what Suguru wanted. 

His best friend was waiting outside the door for him, leaning against the frame and holding out a bag with to-go boxes. 

“Hey,” he greeted, praying Suguru wouldn’t notice or comment on the bulge he was still sporting. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Suguru muttered, one pierced brow arching up suspiciously as he still noted how pink his face was. 

“Nah, just, um, watching stuff,” Gojo lied, like Suguru wouldn’t be able to see through him. As if in the ten years they’d known each other, he hadn’t figured out what face he made when he was hiding something. 

“Me n’ Shoko are worried about you, dude,” Suguru sighed, holding out the bag for him to take before running his fingers through his thick, dark hair. “You never want to go out or do anything anymore.” 

He had a point. 

Gojo was getting addicted to you. 

He wanted to tell Suguru that he was better than okay, that he was about to go out and actually do someone for the first time in his life. But he also knew what Suguru would have to say to that. 

Suguru would tell him precisely what an awful idea he thought it was – scold him and say he was getting scammed. 

So instead, all he did was grin, clapping his hand on Suguru’s shoulder and shrugging.

“Don’t worry, man,” he chuckled. “I actually just made some plans to go on a little vacation soon.” 

He just left out that it was to see you. 

It took a few days to sort out – you wanted to buy him plane tickets and book his hotel for him. But when you mentioned that he was closer than you expected, sending an address that was only a couple hours away, he said he’d handle it. 

Why bother taking a plane when he could just drive there? 

Be able to actually drive you around in his own car once he got to your city, y’know, if you were interested. Besides, he could always pay for his own accommodations – make whatever arrangements he needed without feeling like he was being a burden to you. 

You protested, but Gojo won in the end. 

He always did. 

And on the 30th, he was waiting outside your door, one hand clutching a bouquet he spent thirty minutes struggling to pick out in the closest floral shop, and the other hesitating to actually knock.

He tried to hype himself up. 

There were two condoms in his wallet, two gift bags hooked over his elbow, one stuffed full of lingerie in shades of white and blue. The second was something a bit more personal, in a much smaller bag. A gift he wasn't sure you'd even want, half-convinced you would just toss it in the trash once it was all over. 

Gojo almost lifted his hand back to finally do it, to tap on the thick wood, but then he started agonizing about what to say when you answered. 

‘Hey, it's the guy who pays your rent every month?’ 

God, no, that made him sound like an asshole. Desperate. Which, yeah, he was the latter, but he didn't want you to think that. 

Should he try to act more like Suguru? Girls liked him. Could he pull off the whole quiet and contemplative thing? 

The door opened before he could keep deliberating. 

You were somehow prettier in person. 

Standing there in a cute little dress that was practically sheer, a loose cardigan hanging over your frame that didn't conceal the way the slip clung to you underneath it. He recognized it almost immediately as one he purchased for you, his favorite color even better when it was on your skin. 

“Hi,” you half-whispered, and he could almost convince himself you were looking forward to meeting him too. 

“Hi,” he breathed back. 

Way to go. 

“Do, um, do you wanna come inside?” 

“Yes,” he bluntly answered, and the tension in your shoulders relaxed, laughing a little as you opened the door wider. He was pretty sure his face had to be red, his filthy mind jumping to both meanings as he tried to get his feet to move and take him past the threshold. 

He was staring at you, and you were staring at him. 

Your soft eyes searching over him, studying him with an expression he wished he understood better. Dragging over his tall frame before returning to his face, like you couldn’t wrap your brain about it being him. 

“It’s kinda silly, but I feel like I already know you. Can I still call you Toru?” You slowly asked, and he was finding it hard to stop himself from bouncing in place at how your voice washed over him. Syrupy, almost sugary, getting stuck on each syllable. “Or do you prefer Satoru?” 

“You can call me anything you want,” he said before he could stop himself, hating how much of a fool he already felt like in front of you. Stiffly holding out the flowers for you to take, which you also took longer to accept. 

“Thank you,” you smiled, stepping aside so that he could come in. He only managed to step forward when your stare shifted down to the bouquet. He hoped he got it right. Hoped he picked your favorites, and too sheepish to ask. 

It wasn’t that he was timid, because he wasn’t, really. Just flickered from overconfident to sure he was being stupid. 

“I don’t even think I have a vase,” you laughed a little, like you were trying to ease the tension simmering between you. 

Was it just the awkwardness hanging there? Or something else?

“Do you want me to go get you one?” Gojo genuinely offered, wondering if he did something wrong already but you shook your head. 

“I’ll figure something out,” you insisted, your free fingers reaching out to brush against his arm – and suddenly he was wishing he hadn’t worn a long-sleeved shirt. “Don’t leave.” 

You didn’t need to tell him twice. 

He'd go where you want. Do what you want. 

Gojo couldn't stop staring at you, fantasizing with you in front of him over this domestic feeling in this chest. The casualness in your steps, padding barefoot over to the joint kitchen area attached to your living room. You started rummaging through cabinets, grabbing an empty glass pitcher and filling it up with water from the sink before stuffing the flowers inside. 

“They're pretty,” you complimented, leaning over to sniff the delicate petals. 

“Not nearly as pretty as you,” he replied, and you made a sound he had never heard before. A squeak? A squeal? 

Something small and light and twinkling and so goddamn cute he stopped breathing for four full seconds. 

“I can’t believe you’re actually real,” you exhaled, chest rising and falling just as fast as his was.

He blinked, struggling to figure out what that meant.

You saw his reaction, lips twitching up in a sweet smile like it was a good thing. 

“I was kind of scared to get my hopes up,” you confessed, and Gojo felt a cold shard of fear being driven into his heart. Did he disappoint you or-? “But you’re way hotter than me.” 

“You can’t just say stuff like that,” he half-whined, his hand reaching up to hide his mouth under his large palm. As if you wouldn’t be able to see the blush creeping up on his cheeks. 

He never thought he was unattractive. But he was awkward, uncomfortable when it came to actually going on dates or at the idea of an actual relationship with a girl. He talked too loud, too fast, was the kind of know-it-all most people called annoying. 

Maybe you liked his face, but he was really just paying you to tolerate his personality. 

“Why not?” You giggled again, moving the flowers before walking back over to him. Tenderly grabbing his fingers before guiding his hand down like you wanted to look at him. Pinching his chin between your smaller fingers, tilting his head from side-to-side like you were appraising him. 

Gojo could smell your perfume from here, and he was pretty sure his eyes actually rolled back in his head. It was intoxicating. You smelled like candy, but he bet you tasted even sweeter. 

Completely frozen, stuck there as he stared down at you, blue eyes bulging as they zeroed in on the gorgeous little gleam in yours. Your manicured nails digging into his skin, not enough to cut, but to apply enough pressure to keep him still. 

“It’s kinda hard to believe a guy like you is actually interested in me,” you freely admitted. Before your brows scrunched and you corrected yourself, “My streams.” 

“A guy like me?” He asked, and you swallowed hard this time, avoiding your stare. 

“You know what I mean,” you murmured. He didn’t. 

“Tell me anyway?” He tried to tease, mouth twitching up in a smirk he hoped was charming. 

“Fishing for compliments?” You grinned back, letting go of his chin to briefly cup his cheeks, patting it a little before you turned away. 

But your eyes flickered back to the bags he was still holding, like you were silently trying to ask what they were. 

He sat both down on the closest piece of furniture, an armchair that looked like it was barely used. 

“Are those for the stream or-” 

“Just for you,” he answered, and he was pretty sure he’d be chasing the feeling flooding his chest watching you beam back at him. 

“Can I open it now or is it for later?” You followed it up, pulling off your cardigan and throwing it over the back of the chair. 

It was just your shoulders, more of your arms, but it made him feel like he was seeing something holy, like he should be on his knees worshipping you or taking photos as if you were some piece of art he’d been admiring for so long from afar. 

“Whenever,” he shrugged. 

Was he being off-putting? 

For a guy who always talked too much, who could never get himself to shut up, he suddenly seemed unable to come up with anything to say when all his words got choked up in his throat. 

“I guess I’ll save it then,” you muttered, even though you looked like you were itching to open them now. It was better this way, though, he was barely functioning as it was. He wasn't sure his brain would still work if you offered to put on a fashion show for him in the new lingerie he bought you. 

“O-okay,” he stammered, already flustered simply at the thought. 

“So, um,” you paused, briefly biting your lips before jutting your thumb behind you. “Do you want to see my room?” 

He dumbly nodded, feeling like a fucking moron making this more awkward as he trailed after you down the hall. You tried to fill the silence, casually asking questions he dutifully answered, his eyes constantly drifting back to you despite how interested he was in every part of your life he hadn't been privy to before as you pushed open your bedroom door. 

It was weird viewing it from this new angle. Able to note new things he’d never gotten a glimpse at. It made him feel special, as if he was sharing this secret with you – although an annoyingly logical part of his brain wanted to suggest you film from a proper set instead of the intimacy of your actual bed. 

“I cleaned up before you came,” you hummed in front of him, sitting in the spinning chair by your desk, turning on your computer and starting to adjust the settings for the stream. 

“You didn't have to do anything for me,” he quietly said, toning himself down into something he hoped was more appealing to you as he examined the little trinkets on your desks. Stuffed animals you kept out-of-sight on stream. 

“I'm, uh, also on birth control, so as long as you're clean, you don't have to wear a condom,” you added, a hint of anxiety bleeding through, as if you were seeking his approval. 

“Um, I'm, uh, clean,” he said, turning away so you didn’t notice that he was hard just from the idea of sex with you. 

“Satoru,” you spoke his name like it was something precious. Pronouncing the syllables like you were really his friend. “Are you nervous?” 

“Is it that obvious?” He chuckled, reluctantly looking back at you to meet your sympathetic stare. “I just, I’ve never…”

Gojo couldn't finish, couldn't stand to tell you he was a virgin. 

“Been on camera before?” You asked, innocently tilting your head, coming to the wrong conclusion. “It's okay, if you don't want-”

“I've never wanted anything as much as I want this,” he bluntly interrupted. “You.” 

“Oh,” you half-whispered, hiding a smile by looking down before you gestured to your streaming setup. “Guess we should get started then?” 

He watched practically in awe at how you turned it on the second the stream was running, chirping as you greeted everyone in chat, taking a minute or two to make sure most of your audience was there before waving him over and introducing him as the winner. 

That's what he was, right? He had done it. Made it here. About to lose it all to you – in the same bed he'd been dreaming about doing it for so goddamn long. 

Your hands slid up his arm, squeezing his bicep as you pulled him close. 

“Our special guest has never been on camera before, so you guys better be nice,” you warned, pouting in frame as you leaned your head against him. “It's his show tonight.”

Whatever he wanted went. 

You looked up at him before you switched over to the bed, guiding him there. A tripod was set up, ready to capture every dirty detail and broadcast them. Two fingers poked his chest, getting him to sit on the edge, before you giggled and pushed him back further. 

And suddenly you were straddling him, your soft thighs on top of him, your weight shifting and readjusting as you wrapped your wrists around his neck, playing with his soft undercut. 

He was fucking terrified to touch you. Scared that it would shatter the moment and he’d realize this was just an illusion, another dream he’d wake up from. 

But then you sighed, going to grab one of his hands, guiding it towards your waist, wrinkling that pretty slip of yours as you tilted your head so sweetly. Blinking at him with disbelief that mirrored his own, before you were whispering under your breath, “Hold me.” 

“Bu-” He didn’t get more than a single syllable out.

“I want you to,” you murmured, pushing your bottom lip out in another pout. 

His heart swelled, and before he could stop himself, he was leaning up to kiss you. Lips crashing together in an admittedly clumsy connection, too aware of the camera currently focused on both of you to direct all of his own focus solely on you. But then your tongue was suddenly in his mouth, tracing over his teeth, and he was pretty sure his mind melted. 

All his other kisses were drunk ones at parties Suguru and Shoko dragged him to, sloppy and messy, but this was different. You were different. 

It felt fucking magical. The softness of your lips, the taste of mint on your mouth, like you had brushed your teeth before he came over. Sucking on his lower lip, a warm buzz spreading inside his chest at how right this was. One of his hands caressed your cheek, his thumb dragging over your soft skin while his other fingers sank deeper into your waist. 

Trying to pull you closer, forgetting about how this was being filmed in favor of kissing you harder. 

Gojo didn't want it to end. 

He could feel his cock starting to grow, throbbing and aching already underneath the heat of your body, the weight of you on top of him. 

God, he was glad he started lifting fucking weights over the last year – because it was easy to lift you up. 

He flipped the positions, hearing all the air get knocked out of you when your back hit the bed. Hair splayed out underneath you, lips parted in surprise as you looked up at him. 

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked, not scared or nervous, teasing him as you propped yourself up on your elbows, like you wanted another kiss. 

Gojo couldn't help but oblige, leaning down to press his mouth to yours again while your words repeated in his ears. 

How many nights had he spent asking himself that question? Debating over what he’d do if he ever found himself here? 

Take out that custom dildo and take you both ways? Press your thighs to your chest in some mean mating press? Do it doggy style? 

“Come on, baby,” you purred, sifting your fingers through his hair as you peppered his face with more kisses. “Tell me what you want.” 

All he could think of right now was how much he was dying to taste you. 

“I wanna eat you out,” he confessed, coming out hoarser than he intended, his voice just as raw as his heart felt, throat constricting at the idea of you on his tongue. 

He pushed you higher up on the bed so he wouldn't have to be on his knees on the ground, spreading your thighs apart with those huge hands of his. Forcing himself to take it slow, palms traveling over your skin in time with his lips. Kiss after kiss, admiring each pretty inch of you before he was face-to-face with the thin lace thong hardly keeping anything covered. 

Gojo ripped it off like it was nothing, dropping the little fabric to the floor while you let out a small surprised gasp. 

He bought it – so why couldn't he break it too? 

The camera hadn't captured precisely how pretty your pussy was in person. Already wet for him, glistening and goading him into doing something about it. 

“You're soaked,” he commented, swallowing the spit pooling in the back of his mouth as his eyes drifted up to you. 

You made a noise, almost like a whine, shifting your hips and arching them up as you pushed your bottom lip out. “Yeah?”

Gojo wasn't always great with social clues, but he saw it for what it was. An invitation. 

One he was more than happy to accept. 

Diving in to deliver messy kisses, mouth open as his tongue dragged inside of you – copying the same methods he’d spent the past six months studying in porn scenes, desperate to make you cry out his name. 

Until you forgot about the cameras too, so lost in his tongue and his hands that you couldn't remember your own name. Or that he was simply a loser with too much money to spend. 

Because if he was just some guy you met on the street, would you ever really let him do this? 

Let him wrap his mouth around your cute clit, sucking on it and swirling his tongue over it, painting his own name with his tongue while you twitched? Let him slot two thick fingers inside your dripping cunt, scissoring you open with steady strokes? 

He counted them out, tested out what spots you seemed to like the most and made a mental note of them for later. Even if Gojo was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to think of anything once his cock was actually inside of you. 

He was already painfully hard, dick throbbing and pulsing for relief as he rutted into your mattress mindlessly. It creaked under your combined weight, but your own moans were louder. Pitchy and airy, filling the room as you tugged harder on his roots. Keeping him close, refusing to let him stray from the task. 

He groaned into your sensitive bundle of nerves as your nails raked over his scalp, the vibrations making you whine right there with him. His fingers crooked, curling just enough to have your back arching up, hips trying to work them in even deeper as you chased your climax. 

Your thighs closed around his head, holding him hostage there, but honestly? He didn’t mind. 

Gojo would live here if he could. Breathe you in and sustain himself with this alone. 

He dragged his tongue back over your clit, and you made a sound that almost made him cum. Maybe that was just a habit though, years of training himself to finish when you did, the noise immediately registering as your resolve crumbling and giving into the urge to cum just from his mouth and a couple fingers. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, y-you-” 

You sounded desperate, and Gojo decided he'd never heard anything hotter than that. The cute little stuttering, the raw mantra while his tongue tugged you closer to overstimulation, still working on that pretty bud until you pried him back with another pull of his hair.

“You said whatever I want,” he reminded you with a pout that matched yours. 

After a stunned pause, you relented though, eyes wavering and wide as you reluctantly started laying back down, but Gojo just chuckled, climbing back on top of you fully, tempted to tear your dress off too so he could feel your skin. 

Kissing your mouth again, knowing you could taste yourself on his tongue when he slowly slipped it between your open lips. 

Gojo could barely bring himself to part from you, his warm breath on your skin, his nose nudging against yours. 

“What do you want to do with me?” He returned the question, holding out the reins for you to take. 

Because more than anything, he wanted to make you happy. 

You giggled, grinning up at him as your fingers traced over his side, slipping underneath his shirt. 

“Take your clothes off,” you instructed. 

He listened better than any dog did. Standing up to strip quickly, proudly showing off the muscles he only bothered growing for you, wondering if the lamps in your room lit them well for the cameras. 

Your eyes raked over him with appreciation that made his pride flare even more, his fingers fumbling to unzip his jeans and drop them to the floor. You were sitting up now, still breathing a little hard from cumming before. Eyes going wide the second you saw his bulge in his boxers, the damp spot against the thin white fabric from where pre-cum was already leaking. 

“Fuck, you’re-” You didn't let yourself finish, voice dying out as his boxers hit the floor next. 

Big? Huge? Pretty? 

He hoped it was one of the above. Gojo had probably spent too long online browsing the average size of penises, but he was pretty sure his should exceed expectations. 

It wasn't as thick as some he'd seen in porn, but it was long, at least. Besides, he'd seen you satisfy himself with the fake one he sent you enough times so shouldn't the real one be even better? 

“Like it?” He asked, hope plaguing his tone. Really trying to ask if you liked him. 

“Mhm,” you nodded, soft and low as you skimmed your hands over his thick thighs. “Get on your back.” 

You wanted to trade spots again. 

He was trying to focus, to stop himself from saying or doing anything stupid or giving away just how inexperienced he was when he laid flat on your bed. Pre-cum smeared over his pink tip, throbbing at the open air, glancing over at the camera, seeing the chat flying by on the screen behind you before you were positioning yourself just over his cock. 

You didn't look. 

Your eyes were only on him. As if the rest of the world didn't exist. Didn't matter anymore. 

His hands were shaking a little as he reached for your slip, and you helped him pull it off over your head. Breasts bouncing, your body so much fucking better when he actually got to experience it, to feel your skin under his palms as he ran them over your waist. 

There wasn't nearly enough time for him to feel all of you. Torn between making frantic attempts at cataloging you and making the most of the moment while he had it, but you seemed to sense what was brewing inside of him. 

Knew how to shut up the voices inside his head. 

Your hips sank down, one of your hands resting on his chest to steady yourself before you started taking him in. His tip catching at your entrance at first, but then you readjusted again, wet enough that you didn't need lube for him to nudge inside and-

He shattered. 

Sanity splitting into a million tiny little pieces the second he felt your warmth wrapping around him, the tight rubber band of desire inside him threatening to not just snap, but dissolve into straight bliss as you took him in a single rough thrust. Going from nothing to everything all at once, your walls sucking him in. 

Nothing could compare to you. 

All those times he fucked his fist suddenly seemed futile. Just a pale mockery of what the real thing was like, groaning loudly and throwing his head back as his fingers dug into your hip. He tried to mind his strength, stop himself from bruising you, but he could barely control the guttural sounds coming from the back of his throat. 

“Isn’t he cute?” You asked, and his eyes were scrunched too tight to see what face he was making, even if he was sure you were finally acknowledging the rest of your audience. He rolled his hips up, feeling his tip nudge and grind against what he guessed was your cervix, that sweet little spongy spot that had you gasping. He finally cracked his eyes open, thick lashes fluttering at the sight of your gorgeous body grinding down on him. Your nails ran over his chest, tapping over his heart. “My pretty boy.” 

If tonight was about him, then maybe you wouldn’t mind him asking you to call him that again.

“Promise?” He asked, his voice wavering and thick as his brain continued to short-circuit. 

“Pinky swear,” you smiled, a cute crinkle next to where your makeup was beginning to run. Your usual waterproof mascara had been traded in for something that smeared, like you wanted him to see what a mess he made you. 

Gojo grinded up, getting a little more comfortable, holding onto you like you were his last tether to reality, even if it still seemed fake. At his fingers dimpling your flesh, you whined, pushing down until he was completely buried inside you, the muscles in your thighs probably aching from how spread they were. 

His cock practically jumped inside you. 

Warm pleasure swirling inside him, fraying the rope of rationality he couldn’t believe he was still clinging to. And just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, couldn’t hold out, you started to bounce. 

Sliding up-and-down on his thick shaft, letting his ridges and veins drag along your insides, slow at first, but steadily speeding up while he started desperately crying out your name. Not on purpose, just babbling, his thoughts all foggy and dazed as he gripped your waist and tried to help you. 

Lifting you up and bringing you back down, muscles working to copy the moves he thought he’d be better at, wishing he’d worn a condom so it wasn’t so hard to not snap. 

Gojo refused to cum. Scrunched his eyes shut as he buried his face in your skin, brain flashing any unappealing images he could conjure up and desperately failing to hold himself back. 

“F-fuck, you’re so-” He groaned, and you were huffing, leaning forward, pressing your chest against his, skin on skin, your breath on the inside of his neck as your lips left a light kiss on his collarbone. The new angle somehow forced his cock in even deeper, your walls clamping down. 

“I’m so what?” You teased, sucking softly, like you were trying to leave a hickey. To mark him as yours. Trailing kisses up to the hard line of his jaw, murmuring softly where he’d be the only one to hear. “Look at me, Toru.”

Gojo looked, and he came. 

Thick ropes of cum filling you up, a raw sound ripped from him as he thrusted up uselessly inside of you. Your eyes were gleaming, practically fucking glittering with his reflection in them, lips parted and glossy, your hands on his body and your heat on him, all the simmering sensations driving him fucking crazy as he stopped fighting the impulses burning him up inside. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he started rambling, rattling off every word he could think of that fit you as you continued to ride him raw. “Gorgeous, p-pretty, cute, sweet, i-irrestible-” 

“S-says you,” you stammered back, face flushing as your own focus slipped. 

His fingers slipped between your connected bodies, finding your swollen clit, still sensitive from your first climax, almost distressed as he attempted to get you to cum at the same time as him. Wanting you to feel as good as he felt. 

Rubbing circles over it now, putting as much pressure as he could, feeling you respond to him with more broken breathing. 

“C’mon,” he grunted, his other hand sliding around to wrap around your back, holding you tight and close, locking you into this position. “Cum for me, please.”  

Was begging unattractive? Pleading for you to join him in this intimacy? 

Either way, you started trembling, thighs shaking hard as you made some sharp little squeak, whimpering in response as you nodded. 

Catching his lips in another kiss, moaning into his mouth like it would do anything to muffle the sound. He swallowed it anyway. Devoured each noise as his own cum continued to leak out inside you, his cock still hard as it nudged against your cervix again. Dampness dripping down your thighs and onto him, probably some getting on your sheets too. 

“That’s it, fuck,” he murmured, assurance he didn’t know was meant for you or himself. 

“You wanna keep going?” You half-whispered in his ear, lips grazing against his skin – but he shook his head. He liked overstimulation, could probably fuck you for hours, but he wanted to do it in privacy. 

Where it was just you and him – where the audience wouldn’t get to see him crying into your skin. 

“Turn it off,” he muttered back, and you nodded, leaving another kiss on his forehead before you slid off of him. His arms fell limp to his side, blue eyes hazy, the world blurred around the edges and tinged with leftover pleasure. 

He was still trembling, shaking as his spent cock throbbed on his stomach, staring up at your beautiful figure as you shifted off of him. 

“Didn’t he do a good job?” You hummed, addressing the chat, back to your casual persona. “Maybe I should keep him.”

It was a joke, something meant to make the mood light – but he wanted so fucking badly for you to keep him. He’d chain himself to your bed if you let him. 

You were saying something else, talking about your next normal stream while you said goodbye – and he was reminded that after this, you would both go back to real life. Regularly scheduled programming. 

Gojo still sort of felt like a virgin. Utterly inexperienced when he watched you switch off the camera, his stare flicking from the shape of your legs to the way your tits lightly bounced leaning over the computer screen. Scrolling through something on your computer before you glanced back at him, offering a smile that almost felt shy. 

“So,” you said, but you didn’t finish your thought.

“That was-” He tried to finish it for you, but it hung out in the open, too many words to choose from that fit. Fantastic? Amazing? Unforgettable? 

“Great, yeah,” you nodded, as if you were on the same page. Filling in the blank with one of your own. “Really great.” 

“Uh-huh,” he breathed, for once in his life, lacking the ability to say what he wanted. 

To tell you how much it meant to him. 

“Did you get a hotel?” You asked, holding your own breath as you fiddled with your fingers. 

“Um, no, I, uh, drove here,” he stammered out, palms sweating as he sat up in your bed. Only to accidentally dipped his fingers in his own cum stains, immediately lifting it up and looking around for something he could wipe it off with. 

You giggled a little, light as you walked back over, getting down on your knees to lick the cum off. He almost came again just from the image alone, cock twitching between his sticky thighs. 

The feel of your tongue dragging over his knuckles, sucking until they were clean and the lewd pop! when you pulled them out.

“Do you want to stay the night?” 

“Yes,” he quickly answered again, cheeks heating up with embarrassment as he cringed at the neediness in his voice. 

“We should probably, like, shower first,” you softened, smiling up at him. “But we could watch one of those movies you told me about?” 

Nothing had ever sounded so fucking good. 

But the morning after managed to be even better. 

Waking up with you nestled in his arms was a feeling he suspected he’d spend the rest of his life chasing. The morning sun drifting in through your pretty lacy curtains. The quiet sound of your breathing. How cute your cheek looked squished on his bicep. The softness of your thigh when you had slotted in between his own. 

He couldn’t even blame his morning wood on testosterone. 

Gojo slowly snuck out from underneath you, making sure to fix the pillow underneath your head and tuck you back under the blanket before snagging his phone from his jeans on the floor. Padding silently over to your attached bathroom, trying his hardest to shut the door as quietly as possible before flicking on the light and the exhaust fan. 

He had more missed messages than he could scroll through the group message between his best friends. It appeared they had somehow managed to figure out that his ‘vacation’ was really just a guise to be with you. Maybe they used his spare key to get in, found his printed out travel plans on the counter or saw any of the messages left up on the computer. 

Suguru: Fucking answer asshole. 

Shoko: he’s probably asleep

Shoko: or dead lol

Suguru: I might kill him if he isn’t. 

Oops? 

He sat down on the closed toilet seat, muscled thighs spread out as he ran his fingers through his hair. He hesitated, brows scrunching together as he tried to figure out what to say before settling on announcing his big news. 

Although, maybe he should’ve said something other than: Guess who's not a virgin?

Gojo held his breath, nervously tapping his foot on the tiled floor while he waited for the … to pop back up once his message was immediately marked as read.

Suguru: Not funny. 

Shoko: ? 

Suguru: Where tf are you? 

There was a light knock on the bathroom door outside, and Gojo half-jumped up, his still-hard cock springing up at the same time and smacking into his abs just as you called his name outside. 

“Satoru?” You yawned, all soft and sweet. Need was pooling back in his stomach, hot and swirling despite him trying to cool it back down with the reminder you were probably just being nice. Only checking on him like a good host would. 

“Um, yeah?” He answered, his hand hovering over the door knob as he hesitated to open it. Would you judge him for being hard already? 

“Are you okay in there?” You asked, and he almost winced at the earnestness in it. You cared. Even if he was a dork and a loser who had never touched another woman before you. Even if he collected Digimon figures and was more comfortable playing dungeons and dragons than putting his dick in you. “Did I do something-”

“N-no,” he forced out, swinging the door open too fast, panicked by the hint of sadness in your voice, hitting his, uh, most sensitive area with it. 

Gojo almost crumpled, a pained moan escaping as you slipped through the crack of the door to see what was wrong. 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, I didn’t-” You started rambling, reaching out like you were going to pat his penis. 

“It’s okay,” he groaned, still wincing at the dull ache. 

Your frown deepened as you noticed his phone in his hand, but he was already waving it like it would explain itself.

“My friends were worried for me,” he muttered. 

“Oh,” you blinked. “Do they-”

“I’ve told them about you,” Gojo added, sighing as he ruffled his fingers through his messy hair. “Like, a lot.” 

“Good things?” You asked, rolling your shoulders back like you were getting more comfortable around him. 

“Just that I’m completely obsessed with you,” he chuckled, cringing again when it came out less like a joke and more like a truth.

That’s what it was, though, wasn’t it? 

Your eyes were on him, your lips just slightly parted like you had something to say and just couldn't work out how to say it. 

Gojo hesitantly met your stare, wondering if he was meant to say something, before you abruptly blurted out a question he never thought he'd hear from any woman. 

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” You practically squeaked, more high-pitched than you intended, blinking fast and glancing away like you were skittish. The girl who was happy to show off every sensitive spot on camera suddenly shy around him.  

“A date?” 

Was it really your fault for falling for a guy like him? 

You didn’t know when it started. Or well, that wasn’t exactly true. You did remember the first message he ever left for you. It was your third-ever stream, still uncomfortable around the camera as your fingers rubbed over your clit. He called you gorgeous. 

He came back for the next stream. And the next. 

Actually, he never really left. 

Dropping compliments and donations like it was nothing to him, your number one supporter who would shout his approval from the rooftops. He made you smile, lips curling up the second you saw his name in chat – and eventually in your messages too. 

From the first kiss, you knew you didn't want to kiss anyone else. 

Wanted to spend every morning waking up with him, curled against his chest or sifting your fingers through his soft strands of hair. 

You were greedy. You’d always known that. 

But that was probably part of the reason it worked so well. 

Gojo wanted to spoil you. To take care of you, whether it was tucking your hair behind your ear or buying you presents. Physical and emotional and material, fuck, even spiritually, he fulfilled every need or want – and somehow left you still craving more of him. 

He was a little dorky. Giving you lingerie that he thought you liked just to sneak in a second bag with a digimon keychain, stuttering through an explanation that he had one too, that he thought it would be cute if you both had virtual pets together. 

But you wouldn’t want him any other way. 

It didn’t stop with just one date. Your weekends now spent with him in your bed or on your couch, hand-in-hand going out shopping or listening to him ramble about his latest hyperfixation. He asked you to be his girlfriend in the middle of a movie, his head in your lap while you combed through his pretty white hair, looking up at you like a cute puppy dog. Cuddling one of your plushies against his chest, a new one he you were pretty sure he only bought because you said it reminded you of him. 

Satoru sighed into your skin now, fingers skimming over your arm as he pulled you closer into the street. Pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he murmured something about how starving he was.

You glanced up at him, still a little in awe that a guy as handsome as him was with you. And that he’d never actually been with another woman before either. He confessed he’d been a virgin before you took it after a couple weeks after sleepy sex, humming that he was your responsibility now. 

One you happily accepted. 

“Do you think your friends will like me?” You asked, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You were both supposed to meet them for brunch, assuage some of their fears that he was turning into a recluse. 

“I know they will,” Satoru promised, kissing the top of your head now. 

You paused in front of the restaurant, one he insisted you’d love, trying to work up the nerve to meet people that he’d told you so much about. The skeptic and the smoker, his closest friends – and ones you so badly wanted the approval of. 

Your phone vibrated in your purse, pulling it out to see it was bank calling. Probably to check that the deposit you were trying to put down on a new studio to film at. Satoru had suggested it – and said that he wouldn’t mind starring in a few more videos after how many donations the one he did with you got. 

“Shit,” you frowned at your phone. “Go ahead and order for me? This will just take a few minutes.” 

You didn’t realize that his friends might have thought he totally lost it until you walked in and overheard the conversation going on. 

“What’s next?” The guy sitting across from him sarcastically drawled. “Something will come up and she’ll have to leave before we see her?” 

“No,” Satoru protested, but he wasn’t done. 

“You can’t seriously expect us to believe that-” 

You tapped on his shoulder before he could finish. 

Dark hair almost hitting you as he swiveled back, jaw dropping the second he saw you standing there. 

“Hi there,” you smiled, holding your hand out to introduce yourself while he squinted at you as if you were some shimmering apparition. 

“You're real?”

“Did you think I wasn't?” You giggled, tilting your head to the side as Satoru stood up from the booth, hurrying over to slip an arm around your waist and guide you back to the seat next to him. 

“What do you see in him?” The girl, Shoko, deadpanned, poking at the food on her plate and staring between the two of you like she was trying to solve a puzzle.

“He’s your friend, too,” you laughed, shrugging your shoulders and leaning against your boyfriend. “I think Satoru’s sweet. And funny-” 

“You think he’s funny?” Geto echoed, like you just said something simply absurd. 

Satoru just grinned, squeezing you tight as his brilliant blue eyes flickered between you and his friends. 

“Do I get to say I told you so now?” 

By week four you knew: underneath the sunglasses he wore indoors "for the bit," underneath the easy charm and the way he called everyone "sweetheart" like it cost him nothing, Gojo was the single biggest nerd you had ever met in your life. He annotated his textbooks in four colors. He had a ranked opinion on which university library floor had the best "ambient silence." He once spent twenty minutes explaining the Fermi paradox to a girl at a party who had asked him, literally, where the bathroom was.

And somehow, against every instinct you had about self-preservation, you'd fallen for him anyway.

The problem was that Gojo Satoru was completely, catastrophically oblivious to the fact that you liked him. Not because he was dumb— the man had a 4.0 and could recite pi to sixty digits when he was nervous— but because emotional self-awareness was, apparently, the one subject he'd never taken.

So you did what any reasonable person would do. You made a list.

Not a real list, not at first— just something you texted your roommate at 1 a.m. after he'd walked you back to your dorm and then said "anyway, goodnight, study buddy!" like a golden retriever who'd just learned the word "goodnight." But it grew. Item by item, week by week, you built yourself a plan. A syllabus, if you wanted to be annoying about it. A plan for how to make a nerd— your nerd, if you had anything to say about it– fall for you back.

Here's what the list looked like, three weeks later, mostly executed and slightly out of order:

1. Ask him to explain something you already understand

Not because you need it explained. Because Gojo lights up like a Christmas tree the second someone asks him a real question, and there is nothing in this world cuter than a six-foot-three man drawing a diagram of quantum entanglement on a napkin at 9 p.m. because you asked "wait, but how does that actually work?" He'll talk for eleven minutes straight. You will not understand half of it. You will not care.

2. Bring him coffee exactly the way he takes it, without asking.

Oat milk, two sugars, and— this is important— he needs it slightly too hot, because he likes complaining that it burned his tongue and then drinking it anyway. The first time you showed up to your study session with his order memorized, he stared at the cup for a solid five seconds like you'd handed him a diamond instead of a four-dollar latte.

"You remembered," he said, and for once he didn't sound like he was performing anything.

"It's not that hard, Satoru."

"No," he agreed, still staring at the cup. "I guess it's not."

3. Steal his hoodie and never give it back.

This one is less a strategy and more just theft, but the effect is the same. You took it during a group project when the library air conditioning decided finals week was a personal vendetta, and you simply forgot to return it. He noticed. He did not ask for it back. He instead started "accidentally" leaving other sweaters at your dorm, like he was building a small collection of hostages in reverse.

4. Beat him at something. Anything.

Gojo has never lost gracefully in his life. He is aggressively, hilariously competitive about things that do not matter, like Mario Kart, or who can name more moons of Saturn, or whose flashcards are better organized. Beat him once— just once— and watch a switch flip behind his eyes. He will demand a rematch. He will demand several rematches. He will, three rematches later, forget that he is supposed to be trying to win and just start trying to make you laugh instead.

5. Notice the thing he's insecure about, and don't make a big deal of it.

Underneath the confidence, Gojo has Opinions about his own eyes— the pale blue, the way people stare, the way strangers sometimes ask invasive questions like he's a museum exhibit. You noticed early that the sunglasses weren't entirely a bit. So you never once commented on his eyes unless it was in passing, the same way you'd mention someone's nice handwriting. Ordinary. Unremarkable. Just a fact about him, not a headline.

He clocked that you'd clocked it. He didn't say anything. But he started taking the glasses off around you more.

6. Let him info-dump. Then remember what he said.

Two weeks after the Fermi paradox incident, you asked him— out of nowhere, mid-lecture— "okay but statistically, if the paradox holds, doesn't that actually support the idea that we're early, not alone?" He turned to look at you like you'd grown a second head. A good second head.

"You remembered that?"

"You explained it for twenty minutes to a stranger looking for the bathroom. Of course I remembered."

7. Make him carry something heavy for you.

Not because you need the help. Because there is a specific, devastating satisfaction in watching Gojo Satoru— who could probably bench-press the entire physics department— insist on carrying your grocery bags, your laundry basket, your six textbooks, all at once, while pretending it's nothing, while very obviously flexing about it.

8. Show up to his study group uninvited and stay anyway.

He runs a Tuesday night study group that is, allegedly, "for anyone who wants to come," but somehow the same three terrified freshmen show up every week and leave within the hour because Gojo cannot resist turning every session into a TED talk. You started showing up too. You did not leave within the hour. By the third week, he'd started saving you a seat next to him without being asked— the one by the outlet, because he'd noticed your laptop charger was fraying.

9. Text him something dumb at 2 a.m. and let him overthink his reply.

You know this one works because your roommate is somehow also friends with his roommate, and the intel came back within the hour: Gojo spent eleven minutes composing a response to your "ok but if a vending machine gains sentience is it a philosophical zombie or just annoying" text. Eleven minutes. For a joke. He sent back four different drafts before landing on one, and it was still unhinged.

10. Compliment his handwriting, not his face

He gets told he's hot approximately nine times a day, by everyone, including strangers on the bus. It means nothing to him anymore— it's just weather. But tell him his lecture notes are genuinely, freakishly beautiful— every equation boxed, every margin annotated in four colors like he's illuminating a medieval manuscript— and watch him go quiet in a way he never does when someone calls him pretty.

11. Let him see you fail at something.

Gojo doesn't actually want a girl who has it together 100% of the time— he wants someone real, though it took you a while to realize that. The night you completely bombed a presentation and cried a little in the stairwell after, he didn't try to fix it or hype you up with empty noise. He just sat down on the concrete step next to you in his very expensive jeans and said, "okay, worst professor you've ever had, go," and let you complain until you'd laughed the tears away.

12. Ask about his family. Actually listen.

He deflects hard whenever anyone brings up the Gojo name, the money, the expectations. Most people either fawn over it or pretend it doesn't exist. You did neither— you just asked, once, gently, "is it heavy? Carrying all that?" and let the silence sit instead of filling it. He didn't answer for a full minute. Then he told you more than he'd told anyone all semester. He told you about his twin.

13. Give him a nickname that isn't about how he looks.

Everyone calls him "Six Eyes" as some ironic school-wide joke about how much he supposedly sees. You started calling him "Professor" instead, low and teasing, every time he got insufferable about a fact nobody asked for. He complained about it constantly. He also, notably, never asked you to stop.

14. Show up to his dumb extracurricular thing

He's in the university's astronomy club, which meets on the roof of the science building at ungodly hours to look at things you cannot see because of light pollution. You went once, mostly out of curiosity, and ended up going every month after, wrapped in his stolen hoodie (see: item 3), while he pointed at smudges in the sky and insisted, with total conviction, that one of them was definitely Saturn.

"That's a plane, Satoru."

"It's Saturn, and I won't be taking questions."

15. Get jealous. Badly. On purpose.

You are not proud of this one, but it worked, so it's staying on the list. A guy from your seminar started sitting suspiciously close to you during group work, and Gojo— usually the most chill, unbothered person alive— suddenly developed a burning need to sit in on your seminar "for fun." He is not enrolled in your seminar. He does not need to be there. He was there anyway, arms crossed, radiating an aura your professor mistook for academic passion.

16. Take care of him when he forgets to take care of himself.

For someone so smart, Gojo is disastrous at remembering to eat during midterms. You started leaving snacks in his backpack without telling him— protein bars, the specific brand of gum he chews when he's anxious, a note sometimes. He never mentioned it directly. He just started leaving you snacks back, an unspoken little economy of care neither of you would put a name to yet.

17. Let him walk you home even when you don't need it.

It's fifteen minutes out of his way. He does it every time anyway, sunglasses off, hands in his pockets, talking the entire walk about nothing and everything, and you've started timing your goodnights to be a little longer than they need to be.

18. Catch him staring, and don't look away first.

It happened in the library, over a stack of shared notes— you looked up and he was already looking, not at your notes, at you, and for once in his entire dramatic life he didn't have a single word ready. You didn't look away. Neither did he. Somebody's highlighter rolled off the table and neither of you moved to catch it.

19. Tell him, out loud, that you like the nerd version of him best.

Not the flirt. Not the golden retriever performing for a crowd. The version that gets quiet and intense over a whiteboard, that memorizes the digits of pi when he's anxious, that lit up over a napkin diagram because someone finally asked him a real question. You told him this on the roof, under his fake Saturn, and he went so still you thought you'd broken him.

20. Kiss him first.

Because he will never, ever make the first move— not out of fear, but because some small, stupid, sincere part of him doesn't believe someone like you would actually want someone like him, underneath all the noise. So you have to be the one. You kiss him on the roof, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, his ridiculous fake constellation still glowing faintly behind him, and he makes a sound against your mouth like every ounce of composure he's ever performed just short-circuited at once.

When you pull back he's staring at you the way he stares at a problem he's finally solved— stunned, delighted, a little smug that he got there at all.

"Say something smart, Professor," you tell him, breathless.

"Give me a second," he says. "You broke my working memory."

Who apparently must have bribed one of your friends to find out what you were wearing tonight judging by the flimsy white fabric he had loosely fastened into a toga and the much bigger angel wings attached to his back, the only part of his costume that was actually store-bought. His halo was shiny and silver and made of what looked fucking tinfoil, standing out above his fluffy white hair and about to fall off at any second.

Satoru was standing by the front door, holding a huge candy bowl and proudly passing it to some frat initiate next to him the second he saw you.

"There's my girl," he happily purred, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, shrugging him off with an exaggerated sigh. It wasn't that you really minded his flirting - but you didn't need everyone here to think you were his. Satoru's words carried weight, more than he actually realized.

"You wish," you teased, batting your lashes and pushing past him to walk through the cracked-open door. The music you could hear from the street was jarring inside, bass thumping loud enough you could feel it in your bones as Yuki slipped out to go greet someone else.

Satoru was harder to shake off.

"You know I do," he hummed, following close behind you, his own angel wings making everyone else skirt around him in a wide berth.

He plucked out one of your feathers feather with a light laugh, the one that always seemed to take up space in your head after you heard it. You swatted at his hand, but he was already holding it over your head like it was fucking mistletoe.

"C'mon, sweetheart," he hummed. "Just one kiss for your favorite guy?"

Currently, you would rank him like number four or maybe even five, but you bit your tongue. Didn't have it in you to correct him. Got up on your tip toes to press a begrudging kiss on the corner of his mouth instead.

"Happy?"

"For now," he grinned.

You let him tug you into the kitchen, listening to him ramble on about someone you wanted to meet later. You didn't ask how he was planning on introducing you - and honestly, you didn't want to know.

For a guy who could have any girl on campus, he seemed awfully inclined to tack on a label to something you were both better off leaving unnamed.

Why ruin a nice thing?

Turn sloppy make outs and occasional casual sex into anything that could be construed as serious?

People were shouting his name as you passed by, one of those wide grins creeping across his face as his halo nearly fell off with how much he kept swiveling his head to greet his friends and the other girls who wanted to fuck him.

They could have him tonight.

You casually replied back to whatever he was chatting to you about, nodding and keeping an eye out for a head of pink hair while he rummaged through the fridge and pulled out some drinks. One of his frat bothers came up, leaning in to ask about how many kegs they had as Satoru rolled his eyes.

You managed to slip away before he even finishing cracking open his hard lemonade. Glancing over your shoulder at the irritatingly cute way his nose scrunched up at the sour taste at his first sip.

There was some foreign uncomfortable pressure in your chest, squeezing all your organs as you snuck out - forcing yourself to set your mind back on your mission.

It only took five minutes to find him.

Sukuna was reclining on a couch in one of the back rooms, thick thighs spread and smoking a blunt while heavy music blasted in the background. He hadn't bothered with anything other than his typical lazy outfit, a long-sleeved shirt clinging to his chest, loose jeans ripped and torn.

His head tilted to the side, a tiny smirk curling up on his lips as you walked over, wobbling on your heels as you pretended to be just a smidge more drunk than you really were so you'd be able to get away with more. Have an excuse in case you got rejected, easily slotting yourself in the empty spot next to him as his eyes dragged over your costume.

"Can I help you?" He grunted, like he wasn't considering what his dick might look like between your tits.

You looked down at the roll still perched between his fingers and then up to his lips.

"We could help each other," you slyly suggested, letting the implication hang in the air and biting your bottom lip.

"Oh yeah?" He arched a brow, still feigning nonchalance, but you knew better.

You had him.

He patted his lap, and it was so easy to toss your legs over his. He didn't touch you yet - let you do the work of scooting closer while he held out his blunt.

All you needed to do was wrap your lips around it. Except you got caught in the act.

"If you wanted some weed, I would've bought it for you," someone dryly commented behind you, and your manicured fingers paused above the blunt before you could reach out and grab it.

Throwing a look over your shoulder, angel wings fluttering as your eyes locked onto your second problem of the evening.

Suguru was smiling at you, perched all pretty on another man's lap, but it was hollow. The way his lips curled up was more like a smirk, one that spelled out trouble. He'd chosen some cheesy priest costume this year, as if he wasn't hoping to be worshipped himself.

"I'm just looking for a little fun," you hummed, daring him to say something else.

Suguru wasn't like Satoru. They were sorta similar, in a funny way, although you weren't sure if they even knew each other. Carried the kind of gravity that sucked you in. Satoru's was light, airy, playful like you were just animals batting back-and-forth with each other. Suguru?

He was closer to a panther, watching you with those dark eyes, waiting to strike and get you underneath his paw.

"You think you'll find it here?" He challenged, and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop your smile. He knew you wouldn't be able to resist the temptation of taking him up on whatever he was offering.

"You're the worst," you groaned, giving in before he could pick a fight and completely ruin your chance with Sukuna.

God, he knew how to derail your plans. With him though, you didn't really mind. Not when you could see if he was planning on putting those thick fingers to use for something other than strumming his stupid guitar.

You untangled yourself from Sukuna with a sigh, squeezing his thigh as you stood up. Suguru didn't step in how Satoru probably would have, waited for you to get close enough before one of his huge hands pressed down on the small of your back beneath your fake wings.

"Hey," Sukuna called out, and you barely concealed your own smirk when you looked back.

"Oh yeah?" You mimicked him. Tilting your head innocently, batting your lashes as cute as you could.

"I'll see you around."

You'd make sure of that.

Suguru stiffened, and you caught the way his mouth twitched before his thumb dug into your spine. He was pretty when he was jealous. The little pinch in his brows. The subtle clench of his jaw.

As if he didn't have his own fan club of sorority girls chasing after him.

He noticed you staring as he led you out of the room, squeezing in between passing people and up the stairs, his dark eyes swirling as they kept shifting down to see if you were still looking.

"What?" He asked, as if he didn't know.

"You're cute," you commented, shrugging a little bit.

"I thought I was the worst?" He teased, and you tried not to laugh.

Struggling to keep a straight face when his hand drifted lower, dancing over the curve of your ass right as he knocked twice on a door down the hall before pushing it open, peeking in first to make sure no one was inside.

And then he was dragging you to the bed, half-flopping down before pulling you on top of him. A hand on your ass, under your dress, possessive as you straddled him and got comfortable. A hint of annoyance still clinging to the corners of his mouth at the thought Sukuna got to have you on his lap first.

Even if he hadn't gotten a taste.

"What do you think you're doin' with a guy like that?" He asked, attempting to pull off your wings. For a guy who looked like he was ready to preach about heaven, you had a sinking feeling he wanted to drag you to hell with him.

"I don't know what I'm doing with a guy like you," you retorted, echoing him just to get a soft chuckle out. Dragging your finger down his chest, feeling for where his pants were underneath the dark tunic - and that thick bulge barely hidden, just waiting for your palm to press down.

"You want me to remind you?"

All it took was a smile for him to give up on plucking your wings to pull out his cock. It was one of the thicker ones you'd seen, a long vein pulsing all pretty along the side as pre-cum collected around his tip.

But before you could do anything with it, his hand was on your side, dragging you in for a kiss. Demanding, tongue on your teeth and hand in your hair, tethering you to him with soft kisses that didn't taste drunk.

Maybe a little hint of something sweet, but no nasty aftertaste of beer or alcohol clinging to him when he deepened it, sucking on your bottom lip like he'd die if he didn't.

His kisses ventured south - and it didn't take long for him to yank your tits free from your corset. Wrapping his mouth around one to suck hard, sharp canines grazing over your sensitive nipple while you whined his name.

Suguru was never sloppy, but he wasn't as precise as he usually was during your typical hookups. Dragging his tongue over the sore spots his teeth left, remarking the same places like he was just having fun.

Your chest was warm, pleasant heat drifting down to your core as you glanced around the room. It was dark, only the headlights of passing cars and the warm yellow lights street lamps bleeding through the window to illuminate the soft blue of the wrinkled comforter underneath you, dorky posters of characters you didn't know plastered on all the walls.

Suguru wasn't in a frat - but you guessed maybe it was his friend's room. You preferred not to hookup with a guy in their own bed. They got ideas of you being theirs.

But this wasn't a bad loophole.

"I don't like the idea of sharing you," Suguru confessed, his cock throbbing underneath you when your weight shifted down.

"Too bad," you teased, smirking as he barely stifled his own groan at the contact.

He might've made you eat those words - but the universe seemed to have something to say about it too.

The door swung open and someone too familiar stumbled in.

Your heart sank to your fucking ass. Staring at the open door, Satoru's hazy blue eyes sharpening fast the second they landed on you on top of someone else.

"Baby," he breathed. "I'm wounded."

Before you could say anything, Suguru was sitting up with an exaggerated scoff. Still holding you in place, but pulling you up against his chest to hide your breasts from Satoru. Oblivious that he had already seen them.

"How many times have I told you not to call me baby?" Suguru grinded his back molars, exhaling hard as his fingers sank deeper into your back. You blinked, trying to process what that meant before Satoru was rolling his eyes.

"I was talking to her," he huffed, pointing at you.

"You're sleeping with him?" Suguru fixed you in a hard frown, head snapping between the two of you like he couldn't conceive it.

"That's supposed to be my line," Satoru retorted, hands on his hip, moving a little to call attention to his wings like he was trying to show off the fact you were unfortunately matching him in front of Suguru.

"You guys, um, know each other?" You awkwardly asked, as if it wasn't obvious. Satoru snorted.

"Apparently not as well as you," Suguru muttered, more jealous than he started off as.

"Don't be mean to my princess," Satoru defensively said, and you both swiveled to stare blankly at him.

"I'm not-" You started, about to hold up your hand before he kept talking.

"Did you really ditch me for Suguru?" He whined, walking over casually, like he was ready to just fucking climb in bed with the two of you.

"No," you shook your head, avoiding the actual answer.

Suguru laughed though, and you shot him a glare to shut up. His dark eyes had narrowed though, amusement glittering in them as he leaned in.

"Seriously? You and that idiot?" Suguru chided, all low and a little sleazy, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"Hey," Satoru pouted, standing directly in front of you now, pulling your attention back to him with two firm fingers on your chin. "I can hear you too, y'know."

"I know," Suguru sharply replied. Daring him to do something, as he continued in a low drawl. "You've got terrible taste, pretty girl."

"Clearly if she wants you," Satoru scrunched his nose up again to argue.

"She wanted Sukuna earlier," Suguru ratted you out, and you felt the pulse of his cock, the bite to his voice that made it clear he was itching to claim you.

"What?" Satoru's perky voice dropped into something sharp enough to skewer your heart.

"Caught her on his lap," Suguru revealed, like he was letting him in on some juicy bit of gossip.

"Were you gonna fuck him on my sheets too?" He bluntly asked, pretty lips pushed together as he leaned in close enough for his nose to nudge against yours.

The tension was too thick to slice through, filling up your lungs when you sucked in a shaky breath. An even worse idea than your initial one starting to form as your eyes flicked between each man.

The only thing better than one hot guy was two, wasn't it?

"What are you guys gonna do about it?"

You felt Suguru's smirk against your throat before Satoru chuckled, surprisingly deep as he cupped your cheek.

"You really wanna find out?"

You were really in trouble now. Had fucked around and found out just how much your flings could take before they were finished.

Literally and figuratively and soon-to-be stuffed with proof of just how screwed with you.

But their hands were too nice to ever say no to. Their mouths latched all over your body, throwing jabs at each other while they pulled-and-pushed you between them. A blur of fingers and cocks and tongues, your angel wings and panties discarded somewhere on the floor so you could be stretched out on Suguru's thick digits. Scissoring you open just to replace it with his unfairly large dick, dragging it against his walls and bucking his hips up so you kept falling forward on his chest. Relying on him for support while Satoru painted your back and shoulders with hickies, his chest against your back so you were stuck between them.

And then Satoru straining to reach past you to pull out a bottle of lube, softly muttering that he could satisfy you more than either of them ever could - only earning a scoff from Suguru.

"How do, um, you guys know each other?" You stammered out the question, breathing heavily between each word, eyeing where Satoru had stationed himself behind you as he squeezed an intimidating amount on his palm, already rubbing some on his cock before his cold hand started drifting down your ass. Skimming over your other hole, previously unbreached before he slowly started pushing the tip of a finger in.

He hesitated, testing the waters to see if you wanted it before you nodded yes, as if anal was a fucking peace offering.

"We've been best friends since high school," Satoru easily replied, like this was a conversation you were having in class instead of while you were being fucked and fingered.

"D-do you guys do this, like, a lot?" You asked, eyes scrunching shut as Suguru's tip grinded against a sweet spot inside of you, your nails digging into his chest for purchase as Satoru continued his steady exploration of the other parts of you.

"Do you?" Suguru remarked, his next thrust accidentally forcing Satoru's fingers further in time with him, a pathetic little whine torn from the back of your throat as you clawed at him again.

Your lips were stuck in a permanent part, about to say no, but you couldn't find it in yourself to form a single coherent word as Satoru readjusted just enough to slot another finger in your ass, the searing stretch rewiring your brain until you could only think about how fucking full you felt.

It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but teetering on the brink of brain-breaking as he started to pump his fingers in and out, the weight of his chest starting to press down as he swirled them around just enough you could feel the thin barrier between him and Suguru straining to contain both of them. A new kind of intense you never experienced before, hyper aware of each and every movement and still lost in all of it.

"You think you can handle the real thing, baby?" Satoru tempted you, his mouth pressing a painfully soft kiss to your shoulder before his tongue licked a clean stripe up your neck. Making you shiver, seeking their warmth like a second skin.

"Mm, mhm," you mindlessly moaned, a tiny little whimper escaping when his fingers slid out and something even more enticing pressed against the base of your ass instead.

At least he wasn't as thick as Suguru was.

Unfortunately for you though?

He was longer.

The new stretch was brutal, but the lube and his fingers managed to loosen you up enough that the sting of his cock slowly sliding in was pleasurable instead of painful.

Suguru's mouth was back on yours, capturing you in reverent kisses while Satoru worshipped you from behind, slow strokes eventually picking up the pace, messy squelches and lewd moans drowned out by the party still thumping outside. Although if someone was standing on the other side of the wall, they might have heard the bed frame constantly knocking into it in time with their mean thrusts.

You were folded almost flat between them. Knees digging into the wrinkled blankets, thighs still spread wide as both their dicks dug in deeper. Drool probably leaking out of your lips before Suguru lapped it up.

"Am I not good enough for you?" Satoru huffed in your ear, teeth nipping at you while you were splayed in this position, buried in your ass while he nagged you about his feelings.

"I jus' don't w-want a boyfriend right now," you managed, slurring half your words when your lungs could barely get any air in them. Suguru's cock felt like it was fucking lodged in your throat, insides being rearranged by both of them.

"But if you did-"

And because your night wasn't messy enough, the door swung open for the second time tonight.

Your knight in cardboard armor had arrived.

And Nanami Kento was not happy at what he walked into.

His favorite tutoring student being sandwiched between morons number one and two. And maybe math wasn't your best subject either, but it wasn't hard to calculate that he didn't approve.

"Ken," you started, batting your lashes like both your holes weren't being filled. Like you could manage more than broken thinking and begging when you couldn't even breathe.

As if Satoru wasn't still halfway in your ass where he could see the filthy connection between your bodies.

"God, do not tell me that you've been hooking up with him too," Satoru whined. "He's the fucking frat treasurer."

Somehow, you missed that memo.

"Maybe?" You offered, both dicks inside you throbbing and pulsing as Suguru snickered. His own jealousy only overwritten by his amusement at Satoru being more jealous.

As if this was a competition he'd ever win by being nonchalant.

"Your presence was requested downstairs," Kento dryly said, his annoyed stare settling on Satoru, arms folding across his chest.

"Sorta busy, man," Satoru huffed, but your heart pulsed at the way Nanami started to turn.

"Unless you wanna join too?" You called out all airy and soft, watching his shoulders freeze.

"Are you suggesting I-?" He stopped himself, pushing the bridge of his glasses higher up on his nose while you stuck out your bottom lip.

"What? Are you scared?" Satoru eagerly joined in, ready to ragebait Nanami or call him a pussy for passing on yours.

"No," Kento scoffed, a faint hint of pink blooming underneath his cheeks.

"We could always see if Sukuna wants to join since you liked his attention so much," Suguru sarcastically added, that familiar edge in his honeyed hum, his cock grinding in deeper, kissing your cervix to make you whimper in front of the blond.

"This is a horrible idea," Kento muttered, and you were inclined to agree. But he just locked the door - throwing away his better judgment for the night.

The only thing all three of them seemed to agree on was their dislike for him. Or maybe just their want for you.

Kento stopped at the edge of the bed, as if touching it would mean he was just as bad as the rest of you. Your eyes hesitantly looked up to meet his, but instead of disgust waiting for you, it was just the faintest flicker of disappointment drowning in an amber sea of something much stronger.

Desire.

He knew he never had all of you. And he'd make due with what you could give him.

Right now? That meant your throat.

It was a little awkward at first, but then he was pulling his dick free too, one knee on the bed to position himself at the right height for where your face was. Although Suguru side-eyed the pale member, making sure it didn't get too close to him before your lips parted, tongue out and ready.

"Y'know," Satoru unhelpfully chimed in behind you. "It's bigger than I thought it'd be."

"Shut up," Kento hissed through gritted teeth before he stuck his dick in your mouth like he was trying to get you to stop talking instead.

But you took it, cheeks hollowing out as you sucked on him, barely keeping your own teeth from grazing him when your body was being tugged three different ways. His strong fingers tangling in your hair to pull you in, cock bobbing in the back of your throat. Suguru's hands on your side to hold you in place while he pumped you full. Satoru's full weight on your back keeping you pinned there for all of them to fuck.

"Your mouth's better than your hand," Kento slyly murmured, and Mr. Cool and Collected underneath you snapped, his dark brows furrowing together and throwing his competition a seething glare.

"How romantic," Suguru retorted, all snarky as you struggled to breathe through your nose.

You didn't think you'd ever done anything so filthy.

And you only wanted more, body trembling and shaking as you whined and whimpered for them. You could feel the sinful way you were squeezing down on Satoru and Suguru, the wall barely separating and holding both of them in as they dragged themselves in-and-out over and over again. All your sounds muffled by the girth of Kento pressed up against the roof of your mouth. You didn't even know whose name you would moan if you could.

Completely and utterly filled, their words going in one ear and out the other as you took their thrusts.

You had no idea who came first.

Maybe Satoru? Or Suguru? Both?

Overwhelmed by sudden warmth down between your thighs, deep groans as someone's fingers found your clit. You were pretty sure it was the former, judging by the sloppy little circles being rubbed over the sensitive bud. Messy massages, just as desperate and needy as you were as he moaned your name into your skin, his teeth sinking down on your shoulder as he worked you closer to a climax.

"Come on, sweetheart," he purred, pleading. "Cum for me, okay?"

You still didn't have the heart to tell him no.

With the pressure of his fingers, his arm wrapped around your waist to get better access, or maybe just from how full you were, the rubber band barely holding you together snapped hard and fast.

The noise it ripped from you sounded like some animal, all strangled and raw, the reverberations making Kento cum too, warm ropes of cum shot down your throat, nearly making you choke. The veins against your tongue throbbing briefly before he abruptly pulled out like your gag concerned him just for another thick spurt of it to suddenly coat your face.

Satoru's fingers were still underneath you, still rubbing you through it, Suguru's voice coaxing you and offering pretty praises while Kento cursed, pumping his cock as the last of it dripped out on your lips.

You felt like a puddle. Reduced down to something limp and boneless, collapsed on Suguru's chest while Nanami cleaned you up, grabbing a pair of boxers from the closest drawer after asking Satoru if it was actually fresh. Suguru was saying something to his friend too, but he was preoccupied pulling out of your sore ass, his fingers disappearing from your front as he shifted off of you. Someone was brushing your hair from your face, but your eyes were closed, lashes still fluttering as exhaustion set into your bones. Cum still leaking down your thighs, probably a mess soaking into Satoru's sheets, a mix of all of you.

Maybe you didn't get to fuck Sukuna. But surely this was better, wasn't it?

You could just try again next party.

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a/n: feel kinda meh about how it turned out but hope you guys liked it <3