Your Heart is Spilling out, Babe
Pairing: Satoru Gojo/Reader
Summary: You and Satoru are friends with benefits. No feelings, that was the agreement from the start. Neither of you want anything more. Even if you did, it wouldnāt work out, anyways. Not that you care if it would.
Tags: fwb, smut, angst, YEARNING, requited unrequited feelings (or ARE they) but jk itās totally no feelings, commitment/abandonment issues, not that it matters because you totally donāt have feelings anyways
āMmmhā¦ thatās it for me tonight. You can shower before you leave, if you want.ā
āOh? I canāt stay the night?ā He asks, āJust gonna pump and dump me? So mean~ā
A hum. āKnock yourself out. But you canāt shower in the morning, youāll wake me up.ā
āWhat a coincidence,ā he lays down next to you, āIām a late sleeper, too.ā
You donāt say anything more, eyes already closed.
Satoruās arm presses your form against his, just barely.
When he wakes up, youāre still laying there beside him, unmoving.
At first, Satoru tries to tell himself itās a happy coincidence.
After all, isnāt it? His problem has always been the women (and men) who give him a certain kind of look before he gets up to leave.
The ones who text him back first, who read everything instantly, who always want to meet up again. The ones who always, inevitably, start to want something more.
Like him giving them the fuck of a lifetime with someone who could be a real-life supermodel and happens to be the greatest sorcerer on earth wasnāt enough. Granted, they donāt know about the sorcerer thing, but still!
It always turns out like this:
Things are good for a while. Sex is good, he gets attention when he texts them, they both understand this is totally casual, no commitment.
Sometimes he even brings up another hookup heās going to, just to drive the point home, and he cheers them on when theyāre getting some somewhere else, too.
(Heās got no reason to be insecure, after all. He would be anyoneās first choice.)
From there, he can admit some of it is his fault. Itās hard, being as irresistible as he is. Being so devastatingly good-looking and even better in bed.
Having so much humor and personality in his amazing texts (never mind that most of them just react with an emoji or a short haha or an unrelated compliment ā he drinks it all up just the same).
They start to text him first, which is impressive, considering what a spammer he is. He likes to text them to fill his time, to talk to someone, have his notifications filled with messages of people who want him.
So what if itās an ego boost? Isnāt that what theyāre using him for, too?
But when they start texting him themselves, when they return his style of badgering, itās not random and rambling. Itās affectionate, personal. Theyāve gotten attached, and they want him to be, too.
Itās all nonsense like Saw this and thought of you, and Youāre the most beautiful man Iāve ever met, and I want to meet up again soon.
He has to stop spamming with memes or selfies or random observations throughout his day, stop talking about shops or cafes heād like to visit. Sometimes he has to mute their notifications, because when he spams other people, they feel comfortable spamming him.
And then itās just a matter of how long he spends lying to himself. Because as much of an ass as he is, itās cruel to let them get attached to him when he canāt really open up entirely. When he doesnāt want anything serious.
In fairness, he had told them from the start. He usually breaks it off only after a few days. He always sends them a message and just blocks them ā itās cleaner that way.
Answering any desperate Please, we can still be friends or No, letās just hook up again, would give them hope for things he canāt give them.
You text him Youāre the most annoying man Iāve ever met, and leave him on read for two days.
Satoru thinks heās in love.
Not literally, of course, but in love with the relationship he has with you, which is perfect.
Everything about it is perfect, except for that itās not going on all the time.
You respond to his memes with your own. Chat with him about cafes and desserts and even keep a handful at your home to treat him with. You text him cat pictures, sometimes return selfies if heās lucky.
Usually he gets those when he sends the thirst pics, sitting there with a grin that scares Ichiji, absolutely giddy as he watches you type, stop typing ā he knows youāre looking for something special to send him back.
Itās surprising, how well he just knows things about you. Maybe that was to be expected, though, with your chemistry.
Sex with you is like nothing heās ever felt before.
You have this way of tensing up, expression shifting as youāre right about to cum ā he thinks by now heās conditioned by it, that just seeing you make that face could get him over the edge.
Heās fucked hot people before but no one like you. Seeing the same clothes from your cute little selfies slip off, itās like unwrapping a present he canāt wait to eat up. Makes him salivate like a box of chocolates, like the one truffle package you got one time and made him eat on his knees with his head in your lap, out of your hands.
Fucking you is one of his favorite things ever, right up there with kikufuku and making fun of his coworkers (and students!). Youāre a beautiful bend of reactive and pliant, so fun to tease and edge and so rewarding to please.
God, fuck, he wants you. He wants you all the time. All his other hookups are silenced in favor of you, boring conversations abandoned in favor of debating tiramisu and tres leches, and all other sorts of inane things.
What your favorite school subjects are, oddly enough (he supposes he was asking for it, telling you he taught high schoolers).
You like literature, he likes math, and when he hears you talk about it, he almost wants to read some of those novels you like so much. Non-sorcerer politics has never meant anything to him but it matters when he hears you talk about it.
Itās like hearing about a whole separate world with its own struggles. Your opinions are so well-thought out, he can tell just how much you care, and something hums along aside him as he asks questions, nods his head, really listens to what you have to say. It feels so surreal to hear someone whose goals are not so unlike his, when he thinks about it.
Maybe thatās where some of this fondness comes from. Maybe itās humbling, thinking you want to change your world just as much as he wants to change his, and the only difference is how much people listen.
He canāt imagine not wanting to listen to you. People should listen more. You should run everything, he jokes.
(Heās joking. Heās joking. You donāt know enough to get why he says that twice.)
And then itās not serious again ā when was it ever, really? You talk about your favorite manga and anime and tease each other for your tastes. Maybe talk about episodes or movies youāve seen together.
Heās admittedly a bit of a movie buff ā itās a real victory when he convinces you to watch one of his old favorites. When he finds out you watched it, heās excited the whole day to hear what you thought.
You debate what animals you would be; you are definitely a cat ā aloof and independent ā and youāre quite insistent that heād be a husky, energetic and annoying and ā probably other words you say before he sends you a picture of his dick and you facetime him with some more interesting conversation.
Your days ā weeks, months, really ā they go on like that, theyāre great. Everything is perfect, really.
So when he hears you casually mention youāve got other dinner plans ā when his mind instantly supplies weāre just casual, tease her and hope she gets lucky ā the wretched, dark twist in his gut is wholly unexpected.
And he knows instantly. Immediately, really, because heās just too smart not to.
He knows he doesnāt want you going out with other people. Touching them. Showing them the same faces you show him.
But if he wants you to be his, then he has to ask. And you ā you make him wait to hear back.
You never reach out to him first. You open the door with a cool expression, like your heart doesnāt race at the sight of him like his does (he can see it is, he can see it, but his soul is withering at your look like you couldnāt care less).
Satoru doesnāt usually have to ask, not for anything.
People beg to be able to fuck him. They spam when he ghosts them, begging for scraps. He doesnāt have to ask for attention, people shower him in it.
Everyone wants him. They love him. They donāt abandon him along with all their morals and tell him to kill them if he doesnāt like it.
They beg him to stay, and he is the one who leaves.
Heās too much for them. Too much for anyone. You wouldnāt be able to hand him, anyways.
And he can leave any time he wants, he justā¦ doesnāt want to.
(He never wants to leave. He wants it to stay like this, forever. But when does it ever turn out like that?)
Besides, youāre ā you also want it to stay casual. Like he told you from the beginning. Probably trying to save your feelings from getting hurt ā and can he blame you? Really, with his looks, anyone would be scared to lose him.
So this was justā¦ a happy coincidence. You didnāt want it serious, he didnāt want it, either.
āMmmhā¦ thatās it for me tonight. You can shower before you leave, if you want.ā
Satoruās lip twitches, but it doesnāt manage a smile. It almost feels like youāre kicking him out.
But he knows youāre not, because even if you were the one person on earth who could resist his irresistible charm, he just gave you some absolutely mind-blowing sex.
āOh? I canāt stay the night?ā Satoru teases, āJust gonna pump and dump me? So mean~ā
He says it playfully, casually, because it is casual. It wouldnāt bother him if you told him to fuck off right then and there. It wouldnāt.
You hum noncommittally. āKnock yourself out. But you canāt shower in the morning, youāll wake me up.ā
If heās relieved that he can stay, itās because heās as exhausted as you are. Because you make him feel good, so fucking good, like heās on top of the world. Having to leave would just be a mood killer.
āWhat a coincidence,ā He purrs, laying next to you on the bed, āIām a late sleeper, too.ā
He is not and never has been. He sleeps three hours a night wakes up by 5am.
Itās never bothered him before. His dreams are not a place he wants to be. But theyāve never hurt him when you were there.
He wraps an arm around you, holding you against him, just barely. Not too tight.
You donāt say anything more. You lay there and let him hold you while you fall asleep.
When he wakes, youāre still laying there beside him, unmoving.
The thing is, youāre awake. He knows that. Youāre a light sleeper. Always have been.
He knows you hate morning showers yourself, and always do it at night. Knows what you like for breakfast, how to make it. That you like to sleep in because you have trouble sleeping.
He knows what you think about late at night because you text him about it, because heās always there texting you, because neither of you can sleep and someone ends up calling and whispering secret scattered thoughts in hushed tones and ā
And he honestly doesnāt know, if itās you or him that slips in the I want to touch you right now, or Want me to kiss it better. Who turns it into sex so things canāt get to be too much.
Satoru would really, really like to think that itās him, but the truth is that heās reaching the limit of how believable his lies are, even to himself.
He knows, he knows he knows he knows that if he stayed, you would let him ā
(If he repeats it enough it will surely become true.)
ā but you both agreed no feelings.
Besides, itās not like he wants to stay, anyways.
(Why wonāt you ask him to come back?)
You know what Satoru is the moment you meet him. Itās not like heās made any secret of it, either.
A whore. A man-whore, if you will. A player. Whatever it is. He slept with people, drank in all the sex and attention and then went on his merry way.
You get it. This wasnāt the first time youād met a pretty boy who fucked around, not by a long shot.
He says all casual, no feelings, you smile and nod, and you go back to his place fully expecting to be disappointed because pretty boys usually suck in bed.
And then he fucks you within an inch of your life.
He eats you like a man staved. Hands roving over your skin, groping and squeezing in a way that would be violating, if his beautiful eyes werenāt wild and desperate.
His body is toned and smooth and perfect, unmarred skin that he presses to yours like heās trying to staunch the bleeding of some invisible wound.
Youāve never felt like this before. Sex has never been this amazing. He props his stupid pretty face up on his elbow and he gives you that stupid charming boyish smirk and asks you if you want to go another round, red-faced and eager. Itās overwhelming and exciting and amazing ā
And itās terrifying, because itās always like this for him, isnāt it? He just came in and gave you the fuck of a lifetime, but this is just another lay for him.
(But heās having fun. Itās good for him, too. So why donāt you take what you can get?)
So when he saves his number in your phone, That was awesome, babe, we should do this again sometime, you donāt put a lot of weight into his words. You roll his eyes when he blows you a kiss goodbye, but you donāt delete his number.
Even when he wakes you up with some silly cat meme (god, you hate morning people), somehow you find yourself smiling. You let him know he can get his dick sucked any time if he meows cute enough and woah, maybe youāre coming on too strong ā
He sends you an attachment of himself wearing cat ears, striking an obnoxious pose, with a fake tail that he holds by the end in his mouth.
Satoru Gojo, thatās the name. And you do suck his dick, like you promised, but he comes to you determined to get in character, meowing at you, pressing his face into your hands, rubbing into your side, nuzzling your panties while he looks up into your face with a smirk.
Itās a fight to get him on his back and his legs open wide enough for you to settle in. He meows again like a kitty, and purrs like one too when you take his cock into your mouth, hands threading through your hair. Giggling at his own antics.
Your eyes water when you take him, deep, moaning and feeling him shudder at the feeling, long legs squirming on either side of you. He pulls away suddenly, with a pop, laughing when his dick hits the side of your face and you glare at him. Sticking out his tongue.
He looks so young. So heartbreakingly sweet and charming. He pulls you in to settle you on his cock, face-to-face this time, his smile melting into something soft and tacky, sticking to your lips as he kisses his precum away. Infectious delight.
Satoru holds your hands in his, palm to palm, as you ride him in his lap. Face tilted up to look at you with a blush on his cheeks. Blue eyes wide like they have to be, to take you in, as if they arenāt themselves oceans you have to stop yourself from falling into.
You canāt look into his eyes when you cum, when he cums. Youāre not sure if heās looking either.
But you feel him, oh, do you feel him ā hands squeezing yours as if in warning, face buried into your neck, a moan that vibrates throughout the both of you.
When you wake up, the next morning, you donāt even mind the fact that heās still next to you, cuddled up, right beside you. You donāt mind, until you feel him stiffen suddenly, like heās realized youāre awake, immediately pulling away.
Thatāsā¦ youāre not sure what it is, since cuddling was obviously okay, so why does he not want to do it while youāre awake? It is too close? Too intimate?
Heād held your hands while he stared deep into your eyes and rocked gently into you last night, but cuddling would be too intimate?
But he smiles that smile before he leaves, stumbling a little bit while he gets dressed, in that goofy way that lanky tall men sometimes do. You even overlook the fact that heās renamed himself in your contacts. ~ Satoru ~ My Kitten.
Stupid. Stupid, stupid (youāre smiling already), unbearable man. You want to hit him in the face, with your face. Very hard.
Casually, of course. Itās casual between you. No feelings at all.
But then he starts texting you all the time. He double, triple, quadruple texts, with the infuriating shamelessness of someone whoās never been ignored in his life.
Like heās never worried that the other person is losing interest. He carries himself like it, too, like he knows everyone wants him, and unfortunately, heās right.
So you tell him heās annoying and you donāt look at your phone again. Not until he shows up on your doorstep with that pout on his impossibly pretty face.
And you donāt turn him away. Why would you? If heās going to offer himself on a platter, why not eat up?
Youāre just being realistic here. If you fucked him once and never heard from it again, it would still hurt almost as much as it will now. Youāll just be a little lonelier without your texting partner, but youāll get over it.
Thereās other fish in the sea. Even if none of them are as pretty as him, none of them make them laugh like you do. Youāre not exclusive. He can see other people, so can you. Youāve made it a point not to ask.
You donāt like what heās doing now. How he pauses long, makes you wait before telling you to have fun on your date.
How the next time you see him thereās something strange in his eyes, something that leaves him with clawing hands, hungry mouth, eager to leave his marks all over you.
Satoru doesnāt stop texting you, doesnāt stop selfies, thirst traps, prodding little questions and jokes, doesnāt stop obnoxiously demanding (begging?) for your attention.
At first it was an ego boost. Now, itās terrifying.
Because now he likes you, doesnāt he? Heās interested now. Having fun. Making you feel like heās jealous, acting like heās on withdrawal if he goes too long without you, making you feel like someone as beautiful and rich and funny as him could possibly be in love with you.
But he told you in the beginning. Something casual.
Maybe these feelings are real in the moment. But one day theyāll fade, and everything will be yanked right out from under you.
Youāll wonder why heās getting distant these days. Youāll remember that you never made it official, and sweat over the possibility that heās seeing someone else. At the end of the day thatās all youāll be able to do; worry and worry while youāre too afraid to ask.
Youāll wonder what you did wrong. What you did to lose him. How you could go from someone so fascinating, someone he so thoroughly adored and fucked like he was making love, to an afterthought and a stranger, unless you did something wrong? Unless you made a mistake, somewhere along the line?
The mistake of getting attached to him in the first place.
Fuck that. Satoru can develop feelings on his own fucking time. Heāll lose them just as quickly, you can tell.
This isnāt anything more than a hookup to him. Heās an attention whore who likes to hear himself talk, and youāre dumb enough to entertain him because youāre lonely and easily amused, at least when it comes to him.
Thereās nothing real here.
You still donāt know where he actually works, outside of some nebulous high school teaching situation. Where he lives. What he does most of the day, what his parents are like. Where heās from, even. You donāt know if heās seeing anyone else. He could be married with kids, for all you know.
Not ā not that you care. Not that you give a fuck what heās doing, who heās fucking, where he is when heās not with you. You donāt care about him past his dick and what it does to you.
If you did care, youād only suffer for it. So you draw the line.
You donāt need him, and you want to keep it that way. You donāt want to get attached, and neither does he. So you try to keep him at armās length.
Close enough to touch but not so close that your foolish, eager heart can leap out of your chest and into his hands.
Would he still give you that boyish grin when he rejected you? Laugh and let you down gently? Would he say yes and hold your hand while you walked together to the guillotine, the painful end to a relationship that wasnāt supposed to happen anyways? Would he skip away while your heart seized and trembled on the executionerās block?
Heād look pretty even with blood on his face, youāre sure. But you wouldnāt come out so nicely.
So you donāt ask him to stay. You donāt ask him for anything. You take what youāre given and you savor it, but you try ā oh, god, do you fucking try ā to find someone else, something else to occupy your time.
But heās just too good. You want him. And you donāt get to have him if you ignore his texts and donāt answer when heās at the door. You donāt get to fuck him if you wonāt even let him see you.
So even if you look away, even if your answers are short, even if you donāt let him stay (not that he even wants to) ā you have to let him in.
And unlike you, heās got self-respect. Heās got other options. If he canāt have you, heāll just fuck other people, so you canāt push him away too much. You have to make him want to come back. You have to make him want to give you more.
But you canāt control what Satoru wants, and that is the problem.
Itās out of your hands, locked securely in his ribcage where you can never get to it.
He doesnāt talk about his life, his history, doesnāt even complain about work during off hours.
Really, itās already over, isnāt it? Has been, ever since the beginning. Youāre just waiting for the inevitable end.
āMmmhā¦ thatās it for me tonight.ā You say, tired. So tired, and warm. Satoru always leaves you like this; loose-limbed and floaty, high enough to feel the drop. āYou can shower before you leave, if you want.ā
āOh? I canāt stay the night?ā Satoru asks, teasing, āJust gonna pump and dump me? So mean~ā
You close your eyes, trying not to think of what his face must look like.
āKnock yourself out. But you canāt shower in the morning, youāll wake me up.ā
āWhat a coincidence,ā He purrs, laying next to you on the bed, āIām a late sleeper, too.ā
Satoruās arm around your form presses you against him, just barely. Not too close. Never too close.
You donāt say anything more. You lay there and let him hold you while you fall asleep.
You can feel it when he wakes up. How his breathing changes, how he stiffens and tenses against you, you tumble out of sleep instantly, lashes fluttering.
You shut them closed again. Relax yourself. You donāt have to get up. You donāt want to get up.
Why isnāt he leaving yet? Whatās taking him so long?
Thereās this tension that creeps into your chest. Like you can feel each individual breath he takes. Waiting for him to say something, shake you awake ā but why would he? And why would you want him to?
You know what this is. Youāve always known.
So you lay there, still, breathing calm and even, until he leaves.
(ā¦Come back. Please come back.)
