in which frat!gojo comforts his art major!s/o after a bad critique session.
tw - none. vent fic. live dove: tender and sweet.
At 2:00 PM, you got out of class.
At 2:05, Satoru checked his phone. It was only a seven minute walk from your lecture hall to his frat house, but even that was normally too long for you to wait before starting your post-workshop breakdown. You hadnât called yet, though. He shrugged it off, going back to the video game he was playing on the living roomsâs flatscreen.
At 2:12, he checked his phone again. No call, no text. Weird. Youâd been looking forward to that workshop for weeks. Youâd even ditched him mid-makeout the night before to add exactly one (1) more detail to your already amazing, already crowded sculpture. Whatever. You were probably talking to your friends about how well it went, which was fine. He could live with second place if he was doing it for you.
At 2:17, you threw open his front door, stomped over to the well-beaten couch, and collapsed next to him. Satoru grinned, dropping his controller in favor of throwing an arm over your shoulders.
His voice was pure sugar - all saccharine joy and easy confidence. âThereâs my favorite genius. Howâd it go, baby?â
You opened your mouth, only to close it again. The cycle repeated once, twice, all without you ever managing to spit something out.
Then, you let out a single, miserable whine and began to sob uncontrollably.
Immediately, Satoru went stiff. He tried to remember how he couldâve fucked up. It wasnât your birthday, or your anniversary, and heâd already replaced the slice of strawberry shortcake heâd stolen from your minifridge that morning. Whatever this was, it wasnât his fault. Probably. Hopefully.
He pulled you against his side, squeezing your upper arm as gently as he could. âDo you, uh, wanna talk about it?â
Another keening whine. You cried louder.
âIf someone said something mean to you, I can kick theirââ
âNobody said anything,â you cut in. Satoru flinched.
âOh.â He blinked several times. âWhich is⌠bad?â
âYes, âtoru. Really bad. No one had anything to say about my piece. It was dead silent the whole time. Dead silent.â
âDid they not like it orâŚ?â
âI donât know! Even if they hated it, they couldâve told me what was wrong, but theyâ they didnât evenââ
You broke off into a loud, ear-piercing wail. Okay. He got it. No more questions. Time for comfort.
âTheyâre all idiots, honey. They probably didnât even realize it was about⌠Whatâd you say it was about, again?â
âThe shortfalls of logical positivism,â you whimpered.
âRight. That. They probably donât even know what logical positivism means.â Satoru wasnât entirely sure if he knew what it meant, either, but he opted to keep that to himself. âWhy donât we get you off of campus for a while? I can take you to that ice cream place, the one with theââ
âNo!â You shoved him away, falling onto the opposite arm of the sofa and burying your head in your arms. âI donât want ice cream, I want critique.â
His heart soared. âI can look at your piece, if you want.â
You shook your head violently. His heart plummeted, crashed into the ground, and died in a fiery explosion.
âI donât want you.â And there you were, the person he loved most in the world, dancing on its ashes. âYouâ Youâre uncultured.â
âThatâs not true! Iâve got tons of culture.â
âYou still draw dicks all over your notes.â
âJust in the margins, and Iââ
âYour favorite movie is Twilight!â
âItâs a classic,â he muttered, more than a little hurt.
âItâs derivative,â you sobbed, burying yourself that much deeper into your self-made huddle.
He sighed. âDo you want me to ask Suguru to take a look at it? Iâll snag Nanami after class, too â theyâre both into artsy shit, right?â
You sniffled, nodding weakly. âAnd Sukuna.â
âSukuna?â
âHis minorâs in art-history. I like listening to him talk about surrealism.â
He pursed his lips. He thought about refusing - saving himself months and months of âyou owe me oneâs from the meanest guy on campus - but one more heart-breaking, half-swallowed cry from you was enough for him to cave. He let out a long exhale as he shuffled towards you, draping himself over your back. âFine. But only because I love you. You know that I love you, right?â
You flipped over, burying your face in his chest. âI do.â And then, under your breath, muffled by his sweatshirt, âCan we still get ice cream?â
It was all he could do to grin as he kissed the top of your head.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
FRATBOY!SUKUNA and his pathetic crush on NERDYY!READER ŕź*¡Ë
âË⥠fratboy!sukuna has a big, pathetic crush on you. and for a guy who could usually bag any chick he wanted, the shy nerdy girl in his business class made him unusually nervous. (suggestive, fluff, ooc) ââ§Â°đ˛Öźđ˘ || WC: 3.8k || AC: @/to00fu @/winterrbluess
FRATBOY!SUKUNA failing business studies. not âhaha barely scraping byâ failing, no. heâs an actual, genuine academic failure. attendanceâs shit. notes? most people didnât know the idiot could write. the only thing the 6â5 hunk of a man was consistent with was showing up ten minutes late, sitting in the back with his equally as stupid friends, causing a ruckus, and longingly staring at you, the pretty, nerdy girl who sits up front and scores top of the class almost every term.
on the very last assessment FRATBOY!SUKUNA submitted, he got a twenty. not a sixty, not a forty, hell, not even a thirty. a twenty. you, on the other hand? a perfect hundred. it pissed him off. and not because he was jealous, but because he knew that if he werenât such a pussy when it came to you, heâd be able to pluck up the courage to ask you for some help.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA keeps telling himself heâs gonna talk to you today and loiters outside the lecture hall, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and acting as if heâs just waiting on his boys, but really? heâs watching you through the glass door like a fucking creep. he watches you sitting there so engaged and decides now is his time, mutters a quick âfuck itâ under his breath, then immediately backs out when someone walks past him and makes eye contact.
yeah. maybe tomorrow.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA talks a big game at the frat. heâs flopped out on the couch with one bulky arm thrown over the back and a beer in hand, running his mouth about you. âsheâs into me, i just know it,â he nods. his friends have seen firsthand how nervous he gets around you, and inevitably start shitting on him.
âyeah? then talk to her you fucking pussy.â toji bellows, earning chuckles from the other drunken brothers.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA forgets entire conversations in the middle of his sentences when he catches a glimpse of you moving around in your seat in the front. his friends are nudging him, asking if heâs even listening, and he just grunts with those red eyes still locked on you.
âyeah, no. sounds good.â
âthe fuck? i asked what weâre doing after class.â
âyeah, no. thatâs fine.â
most of his mates give up at that point.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA finally sits next to you one day. shit, he doesnât even really process walking down to the front row. one second heâs in the back, the next heâs plopping into the seat beside you like itâs nothing. obviously not thinking about it was the method, since overthinking only made him more nervous every other time heâd tried. you look up at him with a cute little confused expression, and he feels the rush of the blush hit him all at once, the fact that youâre right there, close enough to touch. he clears his throat and leans back trying to act like heâs totally normal about you.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA tries to make some easy small talk but immediately fumbles the bag. he taps his pen against the desk, glancing at your notes inquisitively.
âyou always write this much? fuck.â he asks with a nervous laugh, like heâs not hanging on your answer.
you look at him a bit startled that not only was he still sitting there, but he was also talking to you. you nod, starting to explain the topic in that quiet voice of yours. he listens with open ears, your speech like gospel, the tone of your voice now engrained in his mind. heâs never been lucky enough to hear your voice before, but as of now itâs the prettiest thing heâs ever heard.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA tries to keep up the conversation, but now he has a million things to worry about. does he look okay? is there potentially something in his teeth? fuck, what did he have for breakfast? but most of all, he canât stop gawking at you, youâre way prettier up close. he keeps clocking the way your eyes flutter down when he looks at you too long. you smile shyly when he thanks you for explaining something, and the way you had your notes set out really impressed him. everything about you felt all but too overwhelming, he wasnât sure if he could keep this up any longer without throwing up from the nerves.
nevertheless, FRATBOY!SUKUNA tries with all he is to keep you on the hook. âyouâre such a clever girl, you ever⌠study somewhere else? like, not here?â he asks awkwardly in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. you blink at him, then mention a cafĂŠ you like to visit on occasion. he jumps at the opportunity and nods too fast, âwe could go, like, together. or whatever. maybe.â real smooth, ryomen.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA then asks for your number all nonchalant. he slides his phone across the desk toward you, trying to keep his face nice and neutral and not dusted with pink. âyâshould put your number in,â he says with a smirk, masking the goofy smile he wants to let out. âso we can arrange nâ shit.â you hesitate for sec, then take it, typing your number in with a small pull to your lips. he watches your fingers, not even pretending to look away. when you hand it back, he feels very weirdly proud, like he just won the golden lotto.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA walks into the frat that night with a fat grin on his dumb face. he kicks the door open loudly, calling out to everyone, âoi, guess who got her number.â the boys present in the house erupt with sarcastic cheers and praise, and gojo stalks up to him and pats him on the back.
âmâ gonna be honest i didnât think your dumb, loser, good for nothing ass would ever-â
âshut the fuck up.â
FRATBOY!SUKUNA, after all the commotion of the evening settles, is back in his room alone. to be honest, heâs kinda stressing over whether to send you a message or not. i mean, he really, really wants to, but what if you think heâs a loser for texting you not even five hours after meeting?
he's sprawled back on his bed, phone in hand, your contact open on his screen. heâs been staring at it for a good five minutes and decides that heâs just gonna bite the bullet and stop being a pussy.
sukuna [9:42pm]: yo, its sukuna
sukuna [9:42pm]: from class today
you [9:43pm]: i know who you are đ
sukuna [9:43pm]: okay damn
sukuna [9:43pm]: i'm glad you said yes to going out
you [9:44pm]: oh? i didnât know it was like that
sukuna [9:44pm]: like what
you [9:45pm]: like a date..?
he pauses with his thumb hovering over the screen, staring at your message a second too long with an increasingly reddening face before typing again.
sukuna [9:46pm]: depends
sukuna [9:46pm]: you want it to be a date?
you [9:47pm]: mmm
you [9:47pm]: do you?
sukuna [9:48pm]: wouldnât have asked if i didnât
you [9:49pm]: i seee
you [9:49pm]: first date... kinda nervous...
sukuna [9:49pm]: oh wow, your first one? i'll make it good, promise.
thereâs a small bit of time, then three dots that come and go about three times.
you [9:50pm]: why did you even ask me
you [9:50pm]: youâve never talked to me before? đ
sukuna [9:51pm]: been looking at you for a while icl
sukuna [9:51pm]: just never did anything about it till now
you [9:52pm]: oh i see
you [9:52pm]: why me?
sukuna [9:53pm]: donât know
sukuna [9:53pm]: youâre quiet but not in a boring way
sukuna [9:53pm]: you actually know what youâre doing in class
sukuna [9:54pm]: kinda into that
you [9:54pm]: kinda?
sukuna [9:55pm]: mkay
sukuna [9:55pm]: very
you [9:55pm]: ahh
sukuna [9:56pm]: what
sukuna [9:56pm]: you asked
you [9:56pm]: i didnât think youâd give me a legitimate answer
sukuna [9:57pm]: i donât lie about that stuff
...
sukuna [9:58pm]: you got insta?
you [9:58pm]: mhmm
sukuna [9:59pm]: send it overr
you [9:59pm]: wow ure bossy
sukuna [10:00pm]: sorry sorry
sukuna [10:00pm]: please send me your instagram?
he doesnât know it, but you too are smiling sweetly at the messages.
you [10:01pm]: okay okay itâs @/y/n
sukuna [10:01pm]: got it
a second later.
sukuna [10:01pm]: followed
you [10:02pm]: i see it
you [10:02pm]: donât stalk too hard
sukuna [10:03pm]: no promises
you [10:03pm]: đđ
sukuna [10:04pm]: iâll text you tomorrow, yeah?
sukuna [10:04pm]: weâll figure out when to go
you [10:05pm]: okay :)
sukuna [10:05pm]: night sweetheart
you [10:05pm]: goodnight sukuna
FRATBOY!SUKUNA immediately stalks your instagram. his phoneâs now mere inches from his face as he scrolls slowly. every single photo gets a long, long look. thereâs ones of you in cafĂŠs, you with your friends, you smiling up at the camera like you donât know how good you look. he zooms in on stupid details, your pretty little outfits, your coffee order in one pic, the way you pose so sweetly. god, why did you have to be cool and cute? the swag gap was getting bigger.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA canât stop thinking about you in the lead up to your little date. he gets a haircut and tells his barber to make him look âsexy as fuck,â makes sure to go to the gym the morning of your little date so he has a nice pump, and takes the time the night before to lay out a nicely curated fit. (he couldnât let you fit mog him on the first date, but by the looks of your instagram, that seemed highly likely.)
ânanami! c'mere.â he yells down the hall an hour before what might have been the single most important outing of his life.
âwhat?â
âdo i look good?â
nanami rolls his eyes and begins to leave, not in the mood for sukunaâs little ego boost shenanigans.
âwait! no, no. mâ serious. iâve got a date with that girl i told you about.â
this piques the blondeâs interest, and he takes the time to actually look his friend up and down. he smiles at the air of nervousness he can sense and pats the tatted man on the shoulder.
âyou look âsexy as fuckâ, ryo.â
FRATBOY!SUKUNA 's at that cafe a full twenty minutes before you'd planned. first date nerves, or whatever. heâs picked a booth that's tucked away and ordered the coffee heâd remembered from your instagram to arrive at the table in time for when you were supposed to get there. and when you do get there, the man has to say a prayer and thank his lucky stars that heâd worked up the courage to ask you out, because holy shit, you looked perfect. (swag gap, definitely still there.)
after standing up far too abruptly, he apologises to the chair heâd almost toppled over then walks up to you, a bashful smile on his face.
âyo, you look real pretty.â he mentally slaps himself for how gojo that sounded, but it was the most prominent thought up in his head.
âoh... thank you.â you reply softly, toying with the fabric of your shirt and avoiding his eyes with a flush.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA thinks he might just implode with cuteness aggression. that easy tone from your texts was gone, left with your careful, slightly anxious voice. he was gonna change that.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA talks your ear off in an attempt to ease both yours and his nerves, but just ends up totally fumbling every single sentence.
âso... dâyou go to the gym? i mean, not that you need to. i do. even went this morning to get a good pump for you, could ya tell?â
âoh, you like mitski? thatâs cool, thatâs cool. i like druski, they kinda sound the same.â
âyour hair looks real nice, does mine? i got a haircut for this by the way, needa look good for you.â
FRATBOY!SUKUNA thinks heâs totally fucked this up by now. but when heâs done rambling and winces to look back at you to see how youâre taking his horribly embarrassing monologue, youâre staring up at him with a fond smile, and he softens up and relaxes.
âdo i.. make you nervous, sukuna?â you tease.
that starts the ice breaker conversation that kicks off the next three hours of non. stop. talking.
you two discuss everything and anything there is to discuss, you take turns telling each other what your favourite such and suchs are, and most importantly, the awkwardness from before is nowhere to be seen, you were meshing well.
in the final moments of the stellar date heâs almost sure he dreamt up, FRATBOY!SUKUNA sits and stares at you for a second. you're all smiley from talking, looking down at your mug, swirling the liquid in your cup, and both you and the cozy cafe background look so pretty. so, he snaps a picture.
âah! did you just-â
âsorry, sorry. you just looked really good.â he flips the phone to show you, and it mightâve been the nicest candid anyoneâs ever taken of you. âi can delete it if you want, just thought itâd match the vibe youâve got goin on on your instagr-â
âplease send that to me.â you interrupt, staring in awe at the photo.
the man just smiles, loving the way you perk up. âiâll do you one better.â
and just like that, that photo is sitting on his story, your handle tagged at the bottom with a white heart.
you felt like crying, he had to be really down bad to be posting you this early on, but you werenât complaining.
that night, FRATBOY!SUKUNA's phone explodes with countless dm's asking him about the cute girl in his new story. friends, friends of friends, friends of friends of friends, old flings, recent flings, his mum, everyone. he ignores them, though, silencing his instagram notifications. he had better things to do, like text you.
sukuna [11:12pm]: that was the best date iâve ever been on
you [11:13pm]: youâre so right actually
sukuna [11:13pm]: nh iâm so serious
sukuna [11:14pm]: like
sukuna [11:14pm]: i was lowkey stressing all day for that icl
sukuna [11:15pm]: but i had a really good time
sukuna [11:15pm]: so thanks for saying yes to coming
you [11:16pm]: thatâs freaking cute omg đ
you [11:16pm]: i also had a lot of funnnn!!
you [11:17pm]: i liked hearing you talk about your interests and such
you [11:17pm]: youâve got a lot of unexpected interests, i love it đââď¸đââď¸
well i love you... too early? yeah, maybe.
sukuna [11:18pm]: unexpected is crazy
sukuna [11:18pm]: how fratty do u think i am
you [11:19pm]: nooo that's not it, shuddup
you [11:19pm]: it was really nice
sukuna [11:20pm]: well youâre nice
sukuna [11:20pm]: and you dress nice
sukuna [11:20pm]: actually
sukuna [11:21pm]: you dress really nice
sukuna [11:21pm]: i noticed that straight away
sukuna [11:21pm]: youâve got like
sukuna [11:22pm]: a really cool thing going on im kinda jealous
sukuna [11:22pm]: donât know how to explain it
sukuna [11:22pm]: but yeah
you [11:23pm]: oh my gosh thank you so much
you [11:23pm]: thank you thank you thank you
you [11:23pm]: i try so hard, its good to have a little recognition đŞ
sukuna [11:24pm]: nah you donât even try
sukuna [11:24pm]: thatâs the annoying part istg
sukuna [11:24pm]: you just look like that
you [11:25pm]: oh my gosh
you [11:25pm]: stop i will cry
sukuna [11:25pm]: iâm being so serious
sukuna [11:26pm]: you gotta help me dress better or something
sukuna [11:26pm]: i canât be showing up next to you looking stupid
you [11:27pm]: you donât look stupid!
you [11:27pm]: your outfits are always nice ive thought that for ages, even before we talked
you [11:27pm]: you donât need my help
sukuna [11:28pm]: i do actually
sukuna [11:28pm]: c'mon iâm asking nicely
you [11:29pm]: mm
you [11:29pm]: i mean
you [11:29pm]: i could help you
sukuna [11:30pm]: yeah?
you [11:30pm]: help you get undressed LOLLL
FRATBOY!SUKUNA's never felt his cock throb as hard as it just did. girls have sent him videos with sound and he's never popped a boner that quick. one, flirty message from you and boom, rock hard erection in the span of ten seconds. he has to take a breath, throw his phone away, and look up at his ceiling for a good five minutes to calm down.
sukuna [11:37pm]: lol you want me bad
you [11:38pm]: first time flirting... kinda nervous...
FRATBOY!SUKUNA comes to class, he completely ignores his friends and plops down next to you with your coffee in hand. his boys boo him later for it and call him a love-struck loser, but he just tells them to shut up, and doesnât move back.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA starts bringing his school shit to class. notebooks, even pens that actually have ink in them. he leans over your notes more than his own, asking questions under his breath and nudging your arm when he misses something the prof says. you start expecting him now, shuffling your stuff to the side to make space before he even sits down.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA follows you to the library one afternoon when you mention youâre heading there to study. he just blurts, âiâll come,â and boom, study partner. he hates the place, itâs far too quiet for him, but he sits across from you anyway with his long legs stretched out under the table, trying his best not to get bored. and to his surprise, he doesnât. he watches you all pretty and focused, and it makes his heart thump with affection, that cute way you tap your pen when youâre thinking and how you push your hair back when it falls forward. he ends up actually doing some work. not great work, but still.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA starts making it a routine centered around you. go to class, then the library, then drive you home. every day. you mention that you could just take the bus once, but he cuts you off with a foul look. âdonât be stupid, iâve got a whole ass car,â he says it flippantly and yet, heâs grabbing your bag for you, slinging it over his shoulder like it weighs nothing. the drives get longer each time, and itâs not because of traffic, but because he takes the long way on purpose. he plays music he knows you like, the windows are cracked, and you end up talking about everything. he definitely doesnât rush to drop you off, no. petrol was expensive, but you were worth every cent.
FRATBOY!SUKUNAâs smoking up on the porch with choso one night when he gets a ping from you and fumbles to answer it.
choso watches with a tired smile and chuckles, âgrown ass man,â choso mutters, nudging him with his foot.
sukuna scoffs weakly. âshut up.â
âyouâre so into her.â
âreally?â sukuna rolls his eyes, dragging a hand down his face. âi am. like⌠a lot.â he sighs. âsheâs not like anyone iâve messed with before. i just... i adore that girl.â
choso hums in acknowledgment.
âi think sheâs a real keeper,â sukuna adds. âitâs just... never had something like this before.â
âlike... a girlfriend?â
âmhm.â
âthe fuck?â
FRATBOY!SUKUNA rolls his eyes again and explains, âdunno, just never really felt a connection with anyone like that before. her, though? fuck me....â he blows smoke into the starry sky, thinking a little longer before adding, âscared iâm gonna fuck it up.â
choso takes a second before answering, calm as ever. âjust donât overthink it, yeah? be yourself, youâre already doing fine. treat her right, thatâs all there is to it.â
sukuna lets that sit, nods slowly. âyeah.â he glances over, bumps his shoulder into him. âthanks.â
FRATBOY!SUKUNA takes that advice and runs with it. he starts asking you out more, not just study sessions, but actual plans. food after class, quick stops at random places he thinks youâd like, late night drives just because you both feel like talking together. he pays every time without making it a big deal, just taps his card and moves on. he remembers little things you mention and brings them up later, making your head dizzy with adoration.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA gets closer to asking you the big question every single time he drops you off. it sits right there on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down at the last second. not yet... he wants it to be just right. he wants you to look at him like you already do, just a little more.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA drives you home one afternoon after a particularly long sesh in the library. the skyâs turning shades of red and orange, that late golden kind of light. you slide into his car, smiling, and he just stares for a second before shaking himself out of the daze. âyou hungry?â he asks, already starting up the engine.
âi meannnn,â
he smiles at your cheek and takes you to your favourite drive thru without needing any directions.
âyou remember my favourite place?â you ask.
he shrugs. âyeah. you talk a lot.â
you talk a lot now, at least.
you laugh, and he thinks heâd come here single every day if it meant hearing that beautiful sound.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA doesnât head straight to your place after, he drives up this hill just outside town and parks facing the blooming horizon. itâs pretty, you even comment that itâs pretty, but when you look to him to see if heâs agreed, heâs looking at you instead.
âhm, whatâs up?â you query.
he exhales like heâs been holding it in all day, then he turns his whole body to you, one muscular arm resting on the wheel.
âi wanna be your boyfriend,â he says. thereâs no joke or some inside gag you didnât know about, no. heâs being one hundred percent honest and you can tell by the way heâs looking you dead set in the eye.
âgenuinely. i want that. really fucking bad.â
although youâre terribly caught off guard, you still smile, looking up at the man whoâs staring at you so utterly in love.
âyeah? well iâd really like that,â you reply.
FRATBOY!SUKUNA lets out a breath and a laugh of relief. his shoulders drop, the harsh tension easing up, and thereâs this small, disbelieving smile pulling at his mouth.
by now youâre both just cheesing at one another, laughing in short bursts and looking away shyly. but when your eyes lock again, you canât ignore the pull that drags you close.
closer, and closer, until your eyes are shut and his lips are pressing ever so gently to yours.
the sunsets in it's last phase, the red and pinks painting the car in a deep, warm ambiance. he pulls back, then cups your cheek softly.
âyouâre my girlfriend now, yeah?â
âyes, ryo. m' all yours.â
âfirst girlfriend.. kinda nervous...â
âwe hang out too much.â you giggle, and he kisses you again.
"that's a problem i always wanna have."
a/n: i missed writing this dumb stupid guy
Š 2026 sixxels. All work belongs to @sixxels Do NOT repost, modify, translate to another language, or plagiarise in any way on ANY platform.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
SUMMARY: after ferrariâs golden boy crashes in order to save his teammate, he is stuck at the hospital with burns all over his body. between long shifts and the hospitalâs desolation, he brings a light in your life that is hard to forget once heâs free to go home.
WARNINGS: feat enhypen RIKI and JAKE. hospital settings, medical terms, mentions of car crashes, blood, burns, mentions of death (brief description, not detailed), mentions of abusive parent, medical conditions, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.
a/n: i believe this couldâve turned out better but i wanted to publish my babies (iâve been writing them since this summer) so please lmk your thought and opinions!! đЎđŤś
The emergency room had seen chaos before, but tonight felt heavier.
It started with sirens, loud and insistent, even through the thick hospital walls, and a nurse rushing in with wide eyes and a shaking tablet.
âTwo criticals inbound, Formula one accident. One with full-body burns and head trauma, the other with a compound leg fracture and suspected internal bleeding.â
You didnât look up until the gurneys were rolled in. The automatic doors swung open with a hiss, letting in two stretchers, wheeled fast.
The first man on the left stretcher wasnât moving, blood was matting the dark fringe of his hair, and his face was pale under the running crimson.
His racing suit, at least, what remained of it, was slit down the middle already, soaked through.
The other one was conscious, barely. He was moaning low, his gloved hand clutching at his stomach.
His helmet was off, but there were burn marks curling along the side of his jaw, climbing his neck like vines. His left eye was bloodshot, and blood was crusting near his temple.
Someone called names, the trauma doctor barking orders, nurses scattering.
"Male, in his twenties, suspected third-degree burns, signs of cranial impact, get a scan, now!â
You walked beside them, flipping through the patient file as quickly as it populated.
Blood type, height, weight, nothing else yet. No names. Just codenames and a tag: F1 INCIDENT â NIGHT PRACTICE RUN.
The burn patient was rushed straight into the burn unit. The younger one too, the boy, he looked like a boy, no older than nineteen, with a mess of internal damage. You heard the word ârupture.â Someone else said âsplintered bone.â
The moment the doors shut behind the burning team, you exhaled and leaned against the wall.
âOh my God.â One of the nurses beside you whispered. âThatâs Lee Heeseung and Nishimura Riki⌠holy shit.â
You blinked. âWho?â
The girl stared at you like you had three heads. âHeeseung? Heâs like⌠a living legend in F1. He won Monaco last year blind in one eye⌠you seriously donât know?â
You shrugged. âNot really my thing.â
She shook her head. âWell, itâl be now.â
And in fact, two hours later, you were re-assigned.
âY/N, youâll be in the burning unit monitoring, in a private suite.â The charge nurse handed you a clipboard. âVIP patient.â
You glanced down at the name, written in capital letters: LEE HEESEUNG
The report was horrifying, with skin grafts that started on both arms and his left shoulder, smoke inhalation damage that would be treated by manually removing it with a tube in the lung.
Followed by a nasty concussion with swelling that had the neurosurgeon double-checking his pupils every ten minutes, and last but not least a multiple rib fractures from the crash impact.
Heâd been put in a medically induced coma for the first few hours, and the sedation wouldnât wear off until sometime tomorrow. Youâd be there to monitor vitals, manage the IV, prep for re-evaluation.
His room was on the east wing, he kind of suite reserved for politicians or royalty.
You slipped inside quietly. Heeseung looked worse now that everything was cleaned up.
The bandages made it more real, he gauze that circled half his head, the IVs in both arms, the oxygen line.
You adjusted the chart at the foot of his bed, but there was a whisper of movement behind you that distracted you.
The man that stepped in wasnât that tall, with tousled hair and hoodie slung half-off his shoulder. There was dried blood on his jeans.
âAre you the nurse assigned to Heeseung?â
You nodded. âJust got here, are you family? Visiting hours are over.â
âIâm theâ uh, manager. My nameâs Sim Jake.â He extended his hand, but it trembled, so he dropped it. âSorry, Iâ fuck, I canât think. Is he stable?â
You nodded slowly. âHe made it through all the check ups without surgery. Heâs sedated, but stable. Weâll have to monitor him for the next 24 hours very closely, especially with the head injury.â
Jake exhaled so hard his shoulders dropped. âAnd Riki?â he asked quietly.
âFrom what I heard, heâs still in surgery.â
He pressed his palms together, his eyes were red-rimmed, like heâd been crying or lacked sleeping âThey said it was gonna be a regular night, yâknow? pre-race laps. Heeseung didnât even wanna go.â
You stayed quiet. Youâd seen people talk to cope, and you learned how to let them.
Jake stared at the bed, at Heeseungâs unconscious body, and then sat down heavily in the corner chair.
âThere was a malfunction,â he said slowly. âIn Rikiâs brakes, his car didnât slow down on the fourth turn. Itâs a corner he usually takes at normal speed, but he went full throttle tonight, he really wanted to impress everyone.â he swallowed, âhe didnât know. Couldnât have, there was no control. He was headed straight for the barricade, and spectators were there⌠families with kids.â
You frowned slightly, brows pulling.
âHeeseung⌠he saw it. He was in front Riki but he saw what was about to happen, he heard it from the communications radio,â he sighed âso heâ he pulled out of line, he s werved into his path.â
Jakeâs voice cracked. âHe used his own car to stop Rikiâs, took the hit full-on, it exploded on fire on impact.â
Your throat felt tight. You glanced at Heeseung again, this time a little different.
âHe sacrificed himself,â Jake said, hands fisting in his lap. âTo stop Riki from plowing into the stands.â
You didnât know what to say. You didnât know how anyone could choose that kind of pain on purpose.
âHeâs gonna live, right?â Jake asked, suddenly boyish. Less like a manager and more like a friend.
You nodded slowly, gaze still on the man lying in the bed. âWeâll do everything we can.â
đ.
He slipped in and out of consciousness through the long stretch of the night, a haze of morphine clouding over his expression every time he stirred.
Most of it was just moaning, incoherent words under his breath, sometimes Rikiâs name.
other times it was just soft whimpers, sharp exhales that caught against his bandaged ribs.
Once, around 3:40 AM, he jolted awake with a short cry and tried to move. His hands jerked upward instinctively, maybe to protect himself⌠maybe reaching for a steering wheel.
You had to catch his wrist gently and murmur softly until he settled again. âItâs okay,â you whispered, thumb brushing over his knuckles. âYouâre safe, youâre not in the car anymore.â
His eyes fluttered beneath bruised lids, and for a second, he stared right through you.
His lips parted, dry and cracked. You held a straw to them and helped him sip water, watched him wince even from that tiny effort, and then he was gone again.
Back into the warmth of sedation, head rolling softly to one side. Morphine dripped slow into his IV. You monitored the levels and checked the rate. You replaced the saline bag when it was almost empty and you didnât leave the room even when your shift technically ended.
By morning, you were back at your post before the sun had even fully risen.
You werenât due for another hour, but you couldn't stay home knowing he might wake again confused, aching and⌠alone.
But when you entered the room, he was already awake. Well, barely, but it was something.
The soft hum of the monitor greeted you first. His vitals were holding steady, but the real sign was the way his eyes, still a bit unfocused, and a little raw, tracked you as you stepped in.
You set your clipboard down quietly and met his gaze. âHey,â you said softly.
He blinked slowly, then frowned. âFuck,â he rasped, âIâm not dead?â
His voice was hoarse, painful to hear, but you managed a small smile. âNot yet, sorry.â
A weak huff pushed from his chest, maybe a laugh, or maybe a cough, you couldnât tell. He shifted, then immediately grimaced, body locking stiff.
âItâll hurt,â you warned, reaching out to adjust his pillow. âYour ribs are still healing.â
âNo shit,â he groaned, swallowing hard. âWhy⌠why canât I feel my neck? and my chest and arms feelââ another cough ânumb.â
You hesitate, then walked to the bedside. His eyes were clearer now, but clouded with the edge of something worse than fear. The dread of what he didnât know yet.
âYou have third-degree burns on your neck and parts of your chest and arms. The reason you canât feel them is⌠because the nerves are gone.â You tried to explain it as easily as possible.
His eyes flicked downward toward his shoulder, then to the heavy gauze wrapping his forearm. He didnât move, just stared. âAm Iââ His voice caught. âHow bad does it look?â
You exhaled. âBad,â you said honestly. âBut they did a clean graft. Youâll get function back, most likely. The nerve endings yes⌠maybe not sensation in some areas. But itâs early, the burn team will know more after the swelling goes down.â
He closed his eyes for a second, jaw clenching.
Silence stretched. Then, his throat worked, voice more broken than before. âRiki?â
You nodded slowly, folding your arms. âHeâs alive, though still unconscious. He had internal bleeding, and a compound fracture in his left leg. Heâs in post-op recovery now, but heâs stable.â
His entire face tightened, like the weight of it had finally dropped onto his chest. His fingers clenched weakly around the edge of the sheet, and he looked away, toward the window where the morning light was just beginning to creep in through the blinds.
âGood,â he said quietly. âGood. Heâ heâs just a kid.â
You sat down in the chair beside him, scribbled a note on the chart, and glanced over.
âHeâs lucky,â you said softly. âthat you were there.â
He didnât answer.
You knew Jake was still outside. Heâd arrived early again, eyes red, pacing the hallway like a ghost. Youâd seen him hovering through the glass window earlier, glancing in, debating whether or not to come in.
Now, as Heeseung winced and shifted slightly, you knew he wouldnât want to deal with him yet.
âYouâve got someone outside,â you said after a pause. âJake, right? Your manager.â
Heeseung closed his eyes.
âI donât have the energy for him right now,â he muttered. âHeâs just gonna yell.â
âThen he can wait.â you stood, heading toward the door. âYou need rest, not a lecture.â
You stepped out quietly and met Jakeâs eyes. He stood up instantly. âIs he awake? Can Iâ?â
âHeâs not in the mood to talk,â you said, keeping your voice low but firm. âHeâs in pain, and heâs processing. Maybe come back tomorrow?â
Jakeâs face fell, but he nodded, rubbing his hand over his mouth, murmured something that resembled a âthank youâ before stepping away.
When you returned to the room, Heeseung was still awake, eyes half-closed, the tension in his shoulders loosened by a fraction. âYou want me to turn the lights down a bit?â
âYeah,â he mumbled. âMy eyes hurt.â
You moved to the wall, dimmed them until the room was cast in soft amber.
And when you returned to your seat, he glanced over, lips cracked, voice barely above a whisper. ââŚWhatâs your name?â
âY/N.â you replied âIâll be your nurse for the time you stay here.â
He blinked. âYouâre the one who was here last night.â
âYeah,â you said softly. âYou tried to punch me when I held your hand.â
His brows creased. âDid I?â
âYou missed.â You shrugged and a ghost of a smile touched his mouth, the first one real enough to settle.
đ.
When you pushed the door open after your lunch break, it was with the quiet intent of checking Heeseungâs vitals, maybe adjusting his IV line again.
You expected him to still be in pain, perhaps trying to sleep it off. You did not expect what you found.
Three nurses, all hovering around his bed like moths to a dying flame.
One was adjusting his blanket even though it was already neatly draped, another was holding a spoon of soup like it was some kind of sacred ritual, and the last oneâ oh, she was massaging lotion onto the one patch of unburned skin on his hand with a focus that was frankly excessive.
Heeseung looked⌠tired. Not just physically, but emotionally drained, like he wasnât sure what to do with the attention.
His eyes met yours almost instantly as you stepped in, and something like relief washed over his features.
You didnât smile. âOut,â you just said, sharp but calm.
All three of them froze, as if youâd pulled the fire alarm. One nurse looked like she might argue, but you raised your brow just slightly, and she faltered.
âBut we were justââ
âIâm sure you were,â you cut her off smoothly. âHeâs under recovery care, not an autograph booth.â
The room grew ten degrees colder.
They scurried out with muttered apologies, not meeting your gaze. One of them left behind the bowl of half-stirred soup and a chocolate pudding cup on the tray.
Heeseung watched you settle the tray on the adjustable table and pull it close to him.
âSo,â you said, lifting the spoon from the bowl, âhow many fangirls have snuck in while I was gone?â
He grimaced slightly. âOnly them, I tjink⌠one kept calling me âhero.â I tried to play dead but they didnât leave.â
You smirked faintly, scooping up a small portion of the lukewarm soup âDidnât your mom ever teach you not to fake injuries for attention?â
He gave a weak chuckle. âPretty sure I didnât have to fake anything.â
You lifted the spoon to his lips, watching as he took the soup carefully, his lips parting just slightly, eyes grimacing a little at the taste. His neck muscles twitched, probably from strain, and he exhaled hard after swallowing.
âJesus,â he muttered. âIs that soup or dishwater?â
âHospital cuisine,â you said solemnly. âFive-star micheline.â
He took another spoonful, slowly, wincing just from the movement of his jaw.
He still looked rough, his color wasnât good, skin pale and slightly ashy from the burn meds. His arms were stiff at his sides, bandaged still, and you could tell the hunger was there, but the effort⌠not so much.
You opened the pudding cup next, gave it a little stir with the plastic spoon. He looked at it like it was the most edible thing heâd seen in weeks.
âOh thank god,â he said. âIâve never been so excited for fake chocolate in my life.â
âOpen up,â you said, and he did, the sweetness seeming to go down easier than the soup. He sighed, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.
âI thought Iâd feel better today,â he murmured. âBut I still feel like shit.â
âYouâre not even forty-eight hours post the accident yet,â you reminded him. âYour bodyâs still trying to decide if it wants to forgive you.â
He shifted then, just a little, then a little more. âCarefulââ
âI wanna sit up more,â he mumbled, already pressing one arm against the bed, trying to push himself.
You leaned in, firm but calm. âHeeseung, stop.â
âI canât just lie hereââ
âYou literally must.â
His eyes flashed with stubbornness, but then he grimaced hard, pain tightening his mouth.
You reached out instinctively, palm flat on his shoulder, not the burned one, holding him still.
âDonât be stupid,â you said quietly. âYour ribs are still cracked, you wonât win against gravity.â
His jaw clenched. âI hate this.â
âI know.â
He looked away, toward the window. The light outside was gentler now, filtered through the clouds.
His face was drawn, and you could see it in the way he held himself, he wasnât just sore, he was frustrated
The kind of man who didnât like stillness. Who probably measured his self-worth by his speed.
âYouâre scheduled to remove some of the smoke still in your lungs,â you told him, âIt will not be pleasant.â
âGreat,â he said sarcastically, âOn a scale from one to ten?â
You thought about if for a minute, âIâve never done it, but I will not lie that I think it will be a solid eight.â
You adjusted the pillow behind his back carefully, angling the bed up a little more for him. He didnât resist this time, just watched your hands.
âYouâre not useless just because youâre healing,â you said, mentioning the previous conversation. âYou saved someone. Thatâs not something your body gets over in a day.â
Heeseung was quiet for a long moment, the sound of the heart monitoring a steady pulse beside you.
ââŚheâs still not awake, right?â he asked softly.
You nodded. âStill out, but stable.â
He didnât respond to that. Just stared out at the window again, jaw working.
You finished cleaning up the tray, wiping the corner of his mouth where a little pudding had smeared.
Your fingers brushed along his chin lightly, and for a second, his eyes dropped to your hand.
When you pulled back, he exhaled slowly.
âThanks,â he said, voice lower now.
You didnât smile, but your voice was soft. âStop trying to get up, and Iâll bring you something that actually tastes like food tomorrow.â
He tilted his head slightly, as if considering, then gave a small nod.
âNo fangirls,â you added, pointing an accusing finger towards him.
He smiled, just barely. âOnly you then?â
You rolled your eyes and stood.
âDonât push it.â
đ.
Days blurred together like a long breath you couldnât quite finish taking.
Outside, the world carried on, traffic, sunrises, clouds rolling over the hospitalâs concrete edges, but inside that room, things moved slower.
Jake came every day now, just after lunch, always bringing a different set of sports magazines or articles printed off from the web.
Heeseung barely read them, but he listened when Jake talked about regular things, probably as not to overwhelm him with the fact that races continued wven as he laid on a hospital bed.
A video someone posted of Riki doing stupid tricks in a go-kart. They didnât say much about the boy himself, not with him still in the ICU, but you could feel the tension crackle in Jake every time he left, like walking out of that room meant abandoning someone else who couldnât speak for himself yet.
You didnât press him, and yoou didnât ask questions.
You were too busy with your own routine.
You came into Heeseungâs room just before the evening shift change.
The light outside had gone pale blue, casting long shadows across the tile floor.
You rolled in a small cart with the supplies, like bandages, ointments, saline and gauze. He was already sitting up a little, watching you.
His face still bore the bruises of the accident, but the swelling had gone down, and his eyes tracked your every movement now, sharp and clear.
âYou get a new uniform?â he asked, voice less raspy than before but still colored with something teasing.
You raised an eyebrow. âItâs the same one you bled on two days ago. We just wash them sometimes.â
âHot,â he murmured, then hissed softly as he tried to adjust his shoulder.
âDon't be cute,â you muttered. âItâs wound cleaning day.â
You started with his head. The bandage there had to be changed slowly, carefully, because the skin underneath was still raw and sensitive.
You gloved up, peeled back the old gauze from his temple, then gently dabbed at the edges of the injury with a saline-soaked pad.
He winced, but didnât complain. Not like he had the first time. âYouâre quieter than usual,â he said.
âYou want me to make small talk while I pull the rest of your scabbed flesh off?â You raised a brow at him. He let out a breathy laugh and closed his eyes. âYeah, I wouldnât mind the distraction.â
You wrapped the fresh bandage around his head, secure but loose enough not to give him a headache.
Then you moved to his chest. He shifted again, the sheets falling to his lap as you pulled the gown down and exposed the burns that still ran like brutal red streaks from just below his collarbone down to the edge of his ribs, spreading across his right shoulder and part of his upper arm. Some had darkened and some peeled.
But all of it looked painful.
You dipped a gloved finger into the ointment and began carefully applying it over the healing areas.
You didnât flinch at the way the flesh had hardened in some parts, blistered in others. Youâd seen worse.
âYou okay?â you asked softly.
âYeah,â he said through his teeth. âFeels like acid.â
âItâs just medicine.â
âI know, but I like being dramatic.â
You gave a short laugh, smoothing the ointment into the side of his neck, then placed new gauze over it, pressing down gently to secure it.
âI donât know how you do this every day,â he said after a while âI mean, taking care of people like thisâŚ. like me. It canât be the easiest job.â
You shrugged, taping down the last piece. âIâve had harder patients.â
âOh yeah?â
âYeah. There was this guy once who thought flirting through third-degree burns was charming.â you teased.
He chuckled, and you moved to his arms next, slowly peeling back the old dressings.
His skin twitched under the fresh air, his fingers curling instinctively. You worked in silence for a while, glancing up only when you noticed him watching you.
âWhat?â you asked.
He tilted his head a little. âNothing, you just never talk about yourself.â
You finished smoothing a patch of ointment along his bicep before answering. âThereâs not much to say.â
âBullshit. Youâre in here every day, making sure I donât die of infection or morphine withdrawal. You clean me, feed me, fight off the occasional fangirl. Youâve gotta have more going on than this.â
You paused. Then looked up at him⌠you didnât really have an entertaining life outside the hospital, so you opted for something safe. âIâm also assigned to another patient.â
He blinked. âYeah?â
You nodded, wrapping his arm now. âA kid about nine years old. He came in with a collapsed lung.â
Heeseung stilled slightly. âAccident?â
âNo.â you gulped. âHis father beat the shit out of him.â
Something in his face twisted then, slow and ugly. You continued softly. âHeâs doing better now. Still needs the oxygen support, but heâs laughing again. Oh, and he loves dinosaurs.â
Heeseungâs voice was low. âDo people like that guy, his father, just get to walk around free?â
âItâs⌠complicated.â You said, your hands working focused. âHeâs on the loose, police are searching for him.â
âFuck.â He exhaled sharply, then looked away. âI thought I had it bad.â
You finished dressing the last of his wounds, peeling off your gloves with a soft snap and tossing them into the bin.
âYou did,â you said quietly. âPain doesnât need to compete.â
He looked at you again then, for a long time. You werenât sure what was in his eyes exactly. Respect, maybe sadness. Something softer, too.
âThanks,â he said.
You gave him a faint smile, then reached for the blanket again, pulling it over his legs gently. âDonât move too much tonight.â
âNo promises.â Heeseung shrugged.
âIâll sedate you if I have to.â you threatened.
He smirked. âWouldnât be the worst thing youâve done to me.â
You rolled your eyes, gathered your supplies, and started toward the door. Before you stepped out, you glanced back.
He was still looking at you. Not like a patient looking at a nurse.
Like a man trying to understand someone he suddenly realized he didnât know at all.
đ.
Riki woke up the following week.
The update came in quietly, just after sunrise, passed from the ICU nurse on duty to your floor with that same hushed relief youâd felt pressing at the back of your ribs since the accident.
He was conscious, but weak. He was. fading in and out of sleep, but breathing on his own, and whispering broken sentences when someone leaned in close enough to hear.
You didnât rush to tell Heeseung.
You waited until you finished your morning rounds, changed his bandages, fed him half of his usual breakfast. He didnât complain today. Not once, and that alone told you his mind was elsewhere.
It wasnât until you were refilling his IV fluids that you finally told him.
âRikiâs awake,â you said simply, not looking up as you slid the fresh saline bag onto the pole.
The stillness in the room shifted sharply.
Heeseungâs voice was instant, a little breathless. âWhen?â
âThis morning.â You turned to him. âHeâs in the trauma unit now. They transferred him just after stabilizing.â
He didnât say anything for a second. His hands flexed slightly at his sides. âCan I see him?â
You hesitated. âYouâre not exactly in any shape toââ
âI can sit,â he cut in quickly. âIf I sit in a wheelchair, I can do it. I swear I wonât move. Justâ five minutes. Please.â.
He was still so pale. The bruising around his eye had darkened into a dull ochre. The bandages on his neck peeked out from under his gown. His arm was trembling just from lifting the glass of water earlier.
He wasnât ready. But you also knew heâd never feel ready, and something told you he wouldnât rest until he saw Riki for himself.
You sighed, pulling your gloves off. âAlright, but you donât lift a finger. You move wrong and Iâll have you sedated for real this time.â
He smiled weakly. âGod, thatâs hot.â
You shot him a flat look. âTry me.â
You brought the chair around slowly. He watched every motion as you locked the brakes, looped the IV pole onto the hooks, and adjusted the footrest to keep his legs steady. Then came the hard part.
âOkay,â you said gently, moving to his side. âYouâre gonna need to lean forward on three. Iâll brace your back. Use your left arm if you can. The rightâs still healing.â
He nodded once, already concentrating âOne⌠two.. three.â
He grunted as he moved, your arm slipping under his to guide his weight forward. It took everything in him not to scream, you could tell.
His ribs were like cracked glass, one wrong shift and heâd shatter. But he bit it back, his jaw clenched, and let you ease him into the wheelchair slowly.
Once he was seated, you adjusted his gown to keep the bandages covered, re-checked the IV tube to make sure it wasnât pulled, and only when everything was steady did you release a breath.
âYou good?â you asked.
He nodded slowly. âYeah.. fuck. I feel like a grandpa.â
The trauma unit wasnât far, but you still took it slow. Every bump in the linoleum seemed to jolt through his bones.
You moved carefully, guiding the chair down the hallway, keeping your hand on the bar, and checking on him every few seconds. He didnât talk, he just stared straight ahead.
When you reached Rikiâs room, you paused at the door. âYou sure?â you asked.
Heeseung nodded quietly and so you opened the door slowly.
The lights were dimmed inside, soft beeping of monitors the only sound.
Riki was lying still, propped slightly against the incline of the bed. His skin was a mess of bruises, purple and green splotches painting across his arms and cheek. A heavy cast swallowed most of his left leg, raised and elevated on a cushion.
There were faint stitches near his collarbone, and you saw the tremble of his chest with every breath.
But his eyes were open and conscious, staring at the white ceiling.
When he saw Heeseung, something in his expression cracked. His mouth moved first, like he wasnât sure what to say. âHeeseungâŚâ
Heeseung tried to lean forward but flinched instantly. You stepped in and pressed lightly on his shoulder.
âCareful,â you murmured.
âI thought you were dead,â Riki said, voice hoarse and small.
Heeseung swallowed, eyes shining faintly. âSo did I.â
Riki blinked rapidly. âThey said youâ why the fuck did you stop in front of me like that? Thatâs notâŚâ He trailed off, voice thick. âThatâs not how this is supposed to go.â
Heeseung stared at him for a long moment. âYou were headed for the barricade.â
âYou shouldâve just let me crash.â Riki snapped.
Heeseungâs voice was low, steady. âNo, i really shouldnât have.â
The silence between them settled like a weight. You didnât speak, nor did you move. You saw how Heeseungâs hands gripped the armrests, how Riki tried to blink away the water in his eyes.
âYou look like shit,â Riki finally said, a faint smile twitching at his lips.
Heeseung gave a tired breath of a laugh. âYeah. So do you.â
You looked between the two of them. âIâll give you a few minutes⌠just donât make him laugh too hard. His ribs wonât survive it.â
đ.
Two more weeks passed, and the days started blending again, though in a different rhythm now.
Rehab was slower, less frantic than the ER, but harder in other ways.
You watched Heeseung try to curl his fingers around a towel for ten full minutes one morning, sweat beading along his brow while the physical therapist kept encouraging him softly, and he just clenched his jaw and tried again and again, even when the pain clawed up from his shoulder into his teeth.
The nerves in his right arm were slow to wake. Some hadnât at all.
But he worked through it, every day. There were setbacks and ghost pains and frustration.
A dozen nights when he asked you to help him sleep with medications because the sensation of nothing in his arm felt worse than agony.
You tried your best to support him, to give him the strength he was missing.
He could get a game of cards with you each time he managed to complete an exercise, and though he struggled to hold the cards in hands, he looked forward to it.
He always did, but one day you didnât arrive at the time you usually did.
You always checked in after the rehab sessions. Always adjusted the pillows, changed his IV port, sometimes brought him sickeningly sweet tea even though it wasnât officially allowed.
That afternoon, he returned from physical therapy looking exhausted and stiff, arm strapped carefully in the sling again.
You would be waiting for him, and even if he felt tired, he was excited to tell you about his progress.
But when he got in there were no cards and no you.
He was half-dozing when the door finally opened, with but the footsteps werenât yours. The nurse on duty came in to check his meds, and as she adjusted his meds she told him you were coming but were just running late.
She went away, and when the door opened again some time later, it was you.
You came in fast, too fast and your steps uneven. Your scrubs were wrinkled, your hair pulled back hastily.
You didnât even glance at him, just went straight to the counter and dropped your bag like your hands didnât know what to do with anything.
âHey,â he said, quietly.
âHey.â You replied hurriedly.
He tried to push himself up further in bed, and that simple movement sent a spasm through his ribs. He hissed but kept watching you.
Your hands were shaking as you reached for the gloves. You put them on hastily and put some morphine drops in his IV line.
Or tried to, because the needle kept missing. You tried again and again.
âHey.â He murmured, brows furrowing. âAre you okay?â
âOf course,â you gulped, voice shaky, âWhy wouldnât I be?â
But he didnât buy your lie, so he said more firmly, âY/N.â
You stopped moving and dropped your hands on the medicine counter. âI lost him.â
The words came out too sharp and too sudden. You hadnât meant to say them like that. You hadnât even known what you meant to say until they tore out of your mouth.
He blinked slowly. trying to piece the words together. âThe kid?â
You turned slowly toward him, your eyes wide and glassy, and you laughed, a short and broken sound. It caught in your throat. You clutched the edge of the t counter like it could hold you up.
âIâ I did everything. Everything I was supposed to. He was smiling yesterday⌠and⌠and he even asked me to draw dinosaurs on his oxygen mask. I told him I would after he ate his dinner.â
He didnât speak, he let you rant, because he knew you needed not to be strong for once. You needed a shoulder to cry on.
You stepped forward, then dropped to your knees before you even realized it. The medical equipment fell from your hands.
âHe started coughing and he didnât stop,â you whispered, voice already breaking. âHis lung⌠it filled with blood. He couldnât breathe and we couldnât intubate fast enough. He choked in front of us. In front of me.â
Your hands pressed to your face. âI tried⌠I tried so fucking hardââ
Your sobs ripped out of you, loud and uncontained, ugly sobs that rocked your body. Heeseung reached out before his body could protest. âCome here.â
âNo,â you gasped. âI canâtâ Iâm not supposed toââ
âCome here.â He repeated firmly.
You crawled toward the bed on your knees, hands shaking too much to reach for anything.
He managed to lower his good arm toward you, fingers trembling as they brushed against your shoulder.
You pressed your face to the side of the bed, arms folded awkwardly under you, and sobbed into the blanket.
He winced, but he kept his hand there on your back. His thumb moved in slow, unsteady circles, his voice hoarse as he whispered, âYou did everything you could.â
âI didnât save him.â You snapped.
âSometimes⌠sometimes you canât.â He tried to reason. âI promised Iâd come see him tomorrow.â You whispered brokenly.
Heeseungâs breath hitched, and he closed his eyes like he could carry the weight of that grief for you.
âI keep seeing his face,â you whispered. âHe looked so scared.â
âI know that feeling,â he murmured. âI know, I see the fire every night.â
Your fingers curled into the blanket. He moved his hand and brushed your hair back behind your ear. The gentlest touch he could manage.
âYou made him forget the horrors he went through,â he said softly. âYou were there. That matters more than anything.â
You couldnât stop crying, couldnât even pretend to be the composed nurse anymore.
You werenât her right now. You were just you, kneeling on the floor beside a patient who had become more than just a chart.
You stayed there, head buried into the side of the bed, tears soaking through the sheet, while Heeseung lay still, chest tight, body too raw to offer more than the steady, quiet presence youâd once given him.
Eventually, your sobs softened, worn out. Like the grief had burned through you fast and left only ash behind.
He spoke again, voice slow. âYou can sit up here, if you want.â
You shook your head. âI donât want you to move.â Even in your pain, uou cared more for him.
âI wonât.â He shifted his hand slightly, inviting. âJust stay beside me..â
So you did, because you werenât really in the right state of mind to list all the reasons why you shouldnât.
You climbed onto the edge of the bed slowly, not to disturb the tubes or bandages, and leaned gently against the side of his body. His good arm curled around your back.
Just for a moment you let yourself be held.
đ.
It was quiet between you for a long while. His hand was warm where it rested on your back, too warm for someone whoâd spent the last few weeks surrounded by machines and medications and cold gauze.
You were still curled into the side of the bed, your cheek resting just beside the edge of his chest, body limp from the sobbing.
âHey.â He finally spoke.
You shifted, barely lifting your head. âMh?.â
He angled his neck enough to glance down at you. âWheel me downstairs.â
You blinked slowly. âDownstairs where?â
âThe cafeteria.â
You pulled back just enough to look at him properly. His face was worn, but his expression was serious.
You stared hard. âYouâre not allowed down there yet.â
He shrugged with one shoulder. âNeither was I allowed to have Jakeâs candy bars, but Iâve had three Twix and two mini bags of Doritos this week, and I havenât died.â
Your brows lifted. âYouâve been cheating on your meal plan?â He gave a faint smirk. âReligiously.â
âYou sighed, pressing your fingers to your eyes. The last thing you wanted to do right now was escort a stubborn F1 driver out of his room for snacks like he hadnât nearly burned alive three weeks ago.
But the truth was, your chest still hurt. The grief still sat in your bones, but it was quieter now, and something in his voice had shifted.
âFine,â you muttered, standing. âBut youâre wearing your sling, and your hospital bracelet stays visible. If anyone asks, youâre on a medically supervised movement.â
âLord,â he murmured. âYou make rule-breaking sound so sexy.â
You rolled your eyes, but the ache in your chest had already started to soften.
You helped him into the chair again, slower this time, letting him lean into you more than usual.
His body was getting stronger, but not by much, and even the act of standing made him wince. You adjusted his IV pole and tucked the light blue blanket across his lap before wheeling him carefully out into the corridor.
The hallway was mostly quiet as night shift had already begun. The elevators pinged with soft dings while you descended.
âDid you bring me down here to flirt with the volunteers again?â you asked as the doors opened on the ground floor.
âNo,â he said. âThey donât make eye contact anymore. I think you scared them off.â
You snorted. âGood.â
The cafĂŠ was dimly lit, the kind that looked like it was trying very hard to pretend it wasnât inside a hospital.
You wheeled him to a table tucked in the corner, far from the noise of people or the murmur of the vending machines.
You walked up to the bar and ordered what heâd asked for, a hot chocolate with no whipped cream, and a bottle of water. The cashier rang it up, and just as you reached for your hospital-issued card, a hand beat you to it.
Heeseung had wheeled towards you, alone, and handed over a credit card without a word.
You looked at him sharply. âWhat the fuck are youââ
âI wanted to.â Ahe said quickly, âAnd I used the good arm.â He waved it for good measure.
You narrowed your eyes. âIâm on shift. I canât let patients pay forââ
âIâm a grown man in a wheelchair, who needs your help standing while peeing, I think you deserve this.â
You stared at him for a second longer, but he didnât waver. So you let it go, you took the tray with the drinks, careful not to spill the hot chocolate, and returned to the table.
When you set it down in front of him, he reached out for the bottle of water. He pushed the hot chocolate toward you.
You blinked, then frowned in confusion. âThis is yours.â
âI ordered it for you.â He explained as if it was the most obvious thing.
Your hands hovered for a second. âYou asked for it.â
âAnd then I gave it away.â He met your eyes, gaze soft but unwavering. âYouâve had a shit day, well, week. I figured chocolate was a safer bet than tequila.â
You slowly sat down, wrapping your hands around the warm cup. It steamed against your skin, thick and sweet-smelling.
âYou still shouldnât be paying for me,â you muttered.
âI crashed a million-dollar car. You think Iâm worried about six bucks?â
You shook your head, trying to hide the way your lip tugged up just slightly.
He leaned back a little in the chair, the bottle of water resting between his thighs. âYouâre allowed to sit here,â he said, voice quiet. âNot just as my nurse but just as you.â
You stared down at the cup. âI donât think I know how to be just me anymore.â
âYou do,â he said softly. âYou just havenât had time to remember.â
You took a slow sip and the warmth bled into your chest. âI think I hate hospitals,â you whispered.
He tilted his head, watching you carefully. âSo do I.â
You wheeled him back before the nurse on dinner rounds made it to his floor.
Heeseung didnât say much on the way up, he just kept his eyes ahead, arm still nestled in the sling, the blanket pooling loosely around his waist.
You stopped the wheelchair in front of his room, and opened the door wide enough for the chair to slip in.
He shifted a little as you rolled him in, wincing when the chair hit a bump in the threshold. âCareful,â he murmured.
âSorry,â you replied quickly, helping him ease into a comfortable position beside his bed before turning off the wheelchair brakes.
You were efficient again, going through motions youâd done a hundred times, but your fingers still trembled slightly when they brushed his wrist, adjusting the IV.
âThanks,â he said quietly. âFor taking care of me.â
You turned toward him. âItâs literally my job
âItâs more than that,â he said. âYou didnât have to sit with me. You didnât have to cry where I could see you.â
You swallowed, eyes briefly dropping to his blanket. âYeah, well, I guess Iâm not very professional.â
âYouâre too pretty to cry,â he said simply.
You rolled your eyes, stepping toward the cabinet to grab a clean set of saline wipes, trying to cover how your heart stuttered at the way heâd said itâ like a fact, not a compliment.
âDonât start,â you warned. âIâm not starting,â he said. âIâm just saying.â
You turned back to him, arms crossed, and leaned against the cabinet. âAlright, fine. How are you feeling? Really.â
He blinked at you, then tilted his head slightly, making a face. âSore.â
âWhere?â You asked.
He shifted, jaw tightening as he angled his neck. âMy neck mostly. Probably the burn. It feels like itâs pulling when I sleep.â
âThatâs because you keep turning your head instead of using the pillow support,â you said, walking toward him again.
You reached gently toward his collarbone, pulling back the loose hospital shirt to peek at the gauze that covered the worst of the scarring.
âYou should kiss it better,â he said then, voice suddenly low.
You stopped, frozen in place. Your hand froze an inch from his skin, and his eyes flicked to your face, watching you for a reaction, but not pushing.
His lips tugged up, a faint, boyish grin pulling the corner of his mouth.
You stared at him, chest tight, then sighed through your nose and leaned in, fast, before you could think better of it, and pressed a quick kiss to the edge of his cheekbone.
Just enough to feel the warmth of his skin under your lips, to let the tension between you shift into something that made your stomach twist.
His smile widened, the surprise obvious on his face.
âHey,â he whispered, gaze following you as you straightened and stepped back. âThat was nice.â
âDonât let it get to your head.â You said, holding a threatening finger to his face.
He laughed, low and hoarse. âToo late.â
You grabbed your clipboard, pretending to check his chart so you wouldnât have to look at him while your face still felt warm.
âI should go,â you muttered, already walking toward the door. âDinner shiftâs starting on the east wing.â
âWaitââ
But you were already pulling the door open, glancing back at him just long enough to catch the way he looked at you now.
You didnât say anything else. You just stepped out, your heart pounding loud enough you were sure he could hear it, and let the door shut behind you with a soft click.
đ.
By the third day of your ten-hour shift stretch, you could recognize the tone of the call button chime before the light even blinked above the door.
It was always Lee Heeseungâs, allways at the most inopportune momentsâ just when you had your gloves snapped on to help with someone elseâs chart, or when you were halfway through prepping a new IV bag.
And by now, you didnât even need to guess what heâd say.
âMy pillow fell again.â
âMy waterâs too warm.â
âI finished the tissue box. I sneezed once and now itâs gone.â
âI think my skin feels itchy, but like, only a little. Is that bad?â
âDo you know where the remote is?â
Six times that day, and it wasnât even five p.m.
So this time, you walked in before the chime finished echoing down the hall, your hands on your hips, the door swinging shut behind you with a firm thud.
âOkay,â you said, standing just inside the threshold, your brows raised. âI know youâre bored, and I know hospital life isnât exactly thrilling, but unless youâve developed a new infection or spontaneously combusted again, I really donât want to hear another call button chime from this room today.â
Heeseung looked up from the bed, blinking at you with the most unapologetically fake innocent expression youâd ever seen.
âYou donât have to scold me like that,â he said, lifting a hand with mock pain. âIt hurts my feelings.â
âIt hurts my back,â you snapped, âto walk this hallway six times because you suddenly forgot where your mouth is after wiping it.â
He cracked a smile then, slow and crooked. âThat one wasnât urgent, I just missed you.â
You blinked at him, deadpan.
âIâm serious,â he added quickly. âIâm not trying to be annoying. I mean, I am. But not⌠only.â
You slowly stepped closer to the bed, your arms crossing over your chest. âHeeseung.â
He lifted both hands in surrender, careful not to stretch his burned arm. âAlright. alright, Iâll stop. Iâll be good.â
You narrowed your eyes. You knew he felt alone, F1 season continued, Jake had meetings with his whole department since both his drivers were out and he was afraid heâd be replaced.
You knew, but it didnât mean he had to drive you insane too. No pun intended.
âIâm sorry,â he said again, softer this time. âI know Iâm being a pain in the ass, that youâre tired, and I know itâs not fair to ask for attention when there are patients who actually need you.â
That startled you a little. His voice was sincere now, not playful.
The kind of honest that didnât come easy to men like him, the men used to winning races and smiling through sponsorsâ press conferences and interviews. But he looked small now, even as he sat upright in the bed, chest tight in the bandages you changed every morning.
âIâm justââ he exhaled, his fingers twitching over the blanket. âIâm scared to leave. Thatâs the truth.â
You frowned, stepping to his bedside without thinking. âWhy would you be scared of leaving a hospital?â
âBecause I look like this.â He motioned vaguely to his body, to the sling, the burn that peeked from beneath the hem of his collar. âBecause I havenât seen a mirror in weeks, and I know Iâve looked better. Because my hairâs gross and Iâve lost weight and I smell like antiseptic, and Iâve been stuck in this bed thinking that Iâll never feel like myself again.â
You opened your mouth, but he wasnât done. âAnd because I finally got the courage to want something for myself. And that something is you.â
The words landed hard. You felt your arms drop slightly, hands now loose by your sides, the air between you suddenly tighter than before. You blinked your eyes, unsure if you were seeing or hearing his words right.
Heeseung looked up at you again, slower this time, less sure of himself than youâd ever seen him.
âI know you donât owe me anything. Youâve been taking care of me because itâs your duty, and Iâve probably pushed boundaries I shouldnât. ButâŚâ He swallowed, breath shallow. âI wanted to tell you now. Before I get discharged, because the second Iâm out of here, Iâm gonna be back in recovery, back in press cycles, and everyoneâs going to ask about the crash and Riki and the damn brakes, and Iâm not going to get to just sit with you⌠or make you laugh, ormake you roll your eyes like that.â
You stared at him, speechless, as if your body had finally shut down.
âI just needed you to know,â he said finally. âWhen Iâm back on my feet and when I look like me again⌠Iâm going to ask you out, properly. If youâll let me.â
Your heart was pounding, because somewhere deep down, maybe youâd known. Known from the moment he reached for the hot chocolate and slid it across the table. Known from the way he watched you like you were the only anchor he had left.
You didnât know what to say, not yet. Your mouth felt dry and your chest felt tight, but your feet stepped closer anyway, drawn like a magnet.
You didnât kiss him this time. You didnât touch him either. You just looked down at him, eyes skimming his face, the new pink of his healing skin, the glint of defiance still in his expression.
âYou still canât press the call button,â you said quietly.
His smile broke again, wider this time. Like sunlight on rained down pavement.
âAlright,â he whispered. âThen I guess Iâll just have to wait for you.â
đ.
You didnât see Heeseung for almost three weeks.
He still came to the hospital, that much you knew, rehabilitation was mandatory, even for someone as stubborn as Ferrariâs golden boy.
He was scheduled twice a week for physical therapy, and he visited Riki when he could, sometimes staying an hour or more in the kidâs room.
But your shifts never overlapped. It was strange, how easily someone could vanish into the same building you worked in, the same halls youâd memorized with your eyes closed.
You didnât try to ask around. You didnât dig through records or prod the therapists in the staff lounge.
You didnât let it show on your face that every time the elevator dinged on your floor, your eyes flicked up before you could stop yourself.
He was healing at home now. Taking care of his own burns, which had scabbed and scarred over with that red-purple finish that made your heart twist the last time you saw them.
You imagined him moving stiffly through some fancy condo, with his water always cold, pillows never out of reach, tissues unused because there was no one around to pass them.
However, you saw Riki often. He was in less pain now, and more alert to his surroundings.
Still sour most days, snappy and restless from staying still for so long, but there was a spark there, something sharp behind his eyes when he talked about rehab. He wanted to walk, he wanted to drive again. Even if it was far off for the time being.
âHeeseung comes in all weird,â Riki muttered one afternoon while you adjusted the IV tubing above his bed. âLike, in baseball caps and hoodies. As if people wonât recognize him if he covers half his face and walks with that stupid gait.â
âMaybe heâs trying not to get mobbed,â you murmured, flicking the drip line with your nail. âHe had fans even in the hospital.â
âHe just doesnât want people to look at him,â Riki said, a little quieter. âNot until his skin looks normal.â
You didnât answer that. You just gave him a sip of water and changed the subject, but it stayed with you.
That night, for the first time, you opened Instagram and typed Ferrari into the search bar.
The page was easy to find. It was verified, with the bold logo, all red and gold and glory.
You scrolled past the highlight reels, the merchandise links, the footage of pit crews moving like insects in reverse. You skimmed captions about sponsors, about prep for the next season, about hopeful outlooks. And then you found his name.
Lee Heeseung, back in training. Slowly regaining strength in his right arm, working with team specialists twice a week. Determined to be ready for next seasonâs opener.
There was a photo. Blurry, and taken from behind. Heeseung bent forward, sweat soaking through a dark training tee, fingers curled over a steering simulator.
His profile was partly visible, bandage still over the side of his neck, his jaw clenched, dark hair longer than it had been in the hospital.
He looked thin and tired. But he looked alive.
You stared at the photo for longer than you should have. Then, against your better judgment, you hit the follow button.
You didnât expect it to change anything. You didnât expect him to see it, even, his feed was full of likes and mentions from fans all over the world, probably flooded every minute.
But something about it made you feel closer. Like youâd walked into a corner of his life no one had given you permission to touch.
Like you were choosing to see him now, not as your patient, not as a body in bandages, but as someone aching to be more than that.
You still didnât see him in âreal lifeâ, but you started noticing the gap he left in your day.
The way your shift felt a little quieter without his voice drifting out of his VIP room.
How your eyes scanned the hallway out of habit, expecting his lanky frame to come sauntering around the corner with a sarcastic comment ready. How the call button in his old room remained untouched, almost dusty with disuse.
You didnât let yourself think about it too much. You had other patients. You had other wounds to clean, other charts to fill.
You had boys younger than Riki who didnât know what comfort felt like, who cried into your sleeves when no one else was looking.
But late at night, when you walked home in silence, something in you still flickered with that unfinished sentence. With that look in his eyes the last time you left his room.
đ.
Saturdays werenât yours to work, but the fire from three nights ago had overflowed the ER.
Nurses had been calling out, supplies were low, and patients kept pouring in with second-degree burns and smoke in their lungs, soot in their hair and soot in their blood.
You hadnât had lunch. You barely remembered what youâd eaten for breakfast.
Your scrubs were wrinkled, your badge strap sticky with someoneâs dried medication, your shoes creaked wet from a mop bucket you stepped in by accident. All you wanted was to go home, shower, and sleep for fourteen uninterrupted hours.
So when you stepped out the side exit, your usual escape route to avoid the busier front doors, and found a sleek, glimmering black car parked right in the middle of the access road, you groaned out loud.
âThe hellâŚâ you muttered under your breath, narrowing your eyes.
You looked around first, no security in sight and no staff nearby.
The car was expensive, way too shiny to belong to a low waged doctor, but the way it was angled made your jaw clench.
Right in the path of emergency lanes. If an ambulance pulled in, it would have to slow down, stop before it hit it and possibly lose a life.
You stepped toward the driverâs side window without hesitation, rapping your knuckles against the glass firmly.
You didnât expect it to roll down that fast. And you definitely didnât expect him.
Heeseung turned toward you slowly, lips twitching up into the smallest smile, his eyes scanning you like you were a familiar song playing again for the first time in weeks.
He had a hat on, but he pulled it off the second he saw your face. His skin had lost the swollen, raw shine, there were still scars on his jawline and neck, but they were faded now, pinked and healing.
âHi,â he said quietly.
You just blinked, hands mid-air, paused knock on the window. âWhatâ what are you doing here?â you asked.
âI was waiting for you,â he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. âYour shift ended half an hour ago.â
âI stayed behind because the trauma and burning bay was still full.â You explained, brows furrowed.
âYeah, I heard about the fire.â His brows dipped a little. âI figured you wouldnât leave on time.â
You glanced at the car again, then back at him âYouâre parked in the middle of the road.â
He shrugged, leaning his elbow against the wheel, lazy and composed and so infuriatingly calm. âYou always said I was reckless.â
âThatâs notâ Heeseung, you canât park here. What if an ambulance came in?â You nagged.
âThen I wouldâve moved.â His smile widened slightly. âI saw you coming out. You were holding your bag like it was about to break.â
You looked down at your satchel, at the way it was sagging from your shoulder, the straps barely stitched. You hadnât realized he was watching.
âYou look exhausted,â he said. âI didnât mean to scare you or get in the way. I just⌠I wanted to talk to you.â
You hesitated, swallowing hard. âYou couldâve texted.â
âI donât have your number.â You paused again, jaw tightening. The handsome fucker was right.
He read the hesitation in your expression because his voice softened when he added, âItâs not anything heavy. I just wanted to see youâŚ. talk. If thatâs okay.â
âI should go home,â you said, but your voice didnât sound as sure as it should have.
âI know,â he replied, tone level. âIâm not trying to trap you. I just⌠thought maybe youâd want to come for a short drive.â
You opened your mouth to protest again, but he mustâve seen it in your face, that flicker, that tiny weakening you always had with him, because he leaned across the passenger seat and pushed the door open.
The smell of his cologne wafted out faintly, clean and unfamiliar. Not the antiseptic you used to associate with him, but something warmer.
âFifteen minutes,â he said. âAnd Iâll drive slow.â
You stood there another heartbeat before sighing heavily and slipping in, dropping your bag between your feet. âYou canât park like that again.â you grumbled, pulling your seatbelt on.
âI wonât,â he said, already shifting the gear. âUnless it gets me your attention.â
The car was too smooth, barely a hum beneath your thighs as he pulled onto the road.
He didnât take the highway. Instead, he drifted toward the north side of the city, where the buildings thinned and the roads turned narrow and winding.
You didnât say anything for a while, and the radio was off, creating a not so awkward silence.
The windows cracked just enough for the wind to kiss your temples. Heeseung kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift. His fingers tapped to a rhythm only he heard.
You finally asked, âWhere are we going?â
âYouâll see.â he smirked.
The hill was quiet. Just far enough from town that the lights behind you blurred into a string of distant sparks, like stars upside down.
He pulled up to the edge, beside a lookout you vaguely recognized from photos, some popular spot kids used to park and drink or kiss in late at night.
But now it was just the two of you, and the sun was melting behind the skyline, leaving streaks of orange and dusty violet stretching across the horizon.
He killed the engine as you sat still, unsure. He turned to you. âYouâve been following the Ferrari page.â
You flushed before you could stop it, your eyes darting to the glovebox. âYou noticed?â
âYou think I wouldnât?â he asked, tilting his head. âYour username has your badge number and Jake asked me if it was you when he saw the notification. Heâs the one who runs the profile.â
You cringed. âI misclicked.â
âI like it that you follow it.â He took a breath, shifting to face you slightly. âI wasnât lying that day. I know I was half gross with hair oily and calling for tissues every five minutes. But I meant what I said.â
You chewed your bottom lip, hands clasped together on your lap.
âIâve thought about you every damn day,â he said, voice low. âEvery burn I cleaned, every stretch I did to move my arm again⌠it was all with your voice in my head, lecturing me, cussing under your breath, or humming while you changed my dressings.
He chucked softly, âIâm not trying to romanticize what you didâ it was your job, I know that. But you were the only part of that room that didnât feel like pain.â
Your throat tightened. The silence around you pressed against your chest.
âSo,â he said, after a moment. âNow that Iâm here, and I donât look like a half-melted wax figure, Iâm going to ask again.â
He leaned in a little, not enough to touch you. Just enough to make the air shiver between your knees.
âWould you go out with me?â
You looked at him, really looked at the scars that would never fully fade, at the honesty stretched across his face. At the way his fingers curled and uncurled on his thigh, nervous.
Not Heeseung-the-racer. Not Heeseung-the-patient. Just the man who held you when you broke down and offered you hot chocolate to cheer you up.
ââŚYouâre still kind of a pain in the ass,â you whispered.
He grinned, soft and warm and so stupidly pretty. âIâm hoping you like that about me.â
You rolled your eyes and looked away. But your voice cracked into something almost smiling as you said, âOkay.â
His inhale was slow, asif he didnât believe you yet.
âYeah?â he asked, like he needed to hear it again.
You turned back to him and nodded. âYeah.â
đ.
You hadnât meant for it to happen so naturallyx, but the nights at his place started slipping into your week like a warm spring breeze.
He picked you up after long shifts when you didnât feel like taking the bus, and youâd slip into his fancy car still in your scrubs, smelling faintly of antiseptic and latex gloves, too tired to talk.
And he never asked you to. He just opened the passenger door, let you rest your head against the window, and drove home in silence, music turned low and hand reaching across the console to hold yours.
His mansion, because there was no way around calling it that, wasnât what you expected.
You thought itâd be filled with trophies and screaming red logos, but it was just neat and quiet.
His bedroom was painted in soft shades of gray and navy, his kitchen smelled like coffee beans and a hint of vanilla, and the couch was so wide youâd often curl up in the corner with a blanket and not move for hours.
You didnât have the energy for fancy dates or being out in public. You certainly didnât want to be photographed, you didnât ant some journalist writing a two-paragraph caption about how Heeseungâs latest girl was just some tired nurse with eyebags and oversized jackets.
And Heeseung never made you feel small for it. Whatever he chose for his life you didnât have to force yourself to be a part of.
Most nights were spent curled on the sofa, a Netflix movie you barely registered playing in the background.
You would start the evening upright, knees tucked in, a warm drink in your hands, and end it slouched sideways, your cheek against his shoulder, breath even and shallow as sleep claimed you halfway through the plot.
Heâd carry you, sometimes. Tuck you in and kiss your forehead lightly. Other nights, you made it to bed on your own, and he would join you an hour later, warm and silent, pressing himself carefully to your back, still stiff because of his healing skin.
He had noticed your pills early on. The first time, you thought youâd been slick about it, hiding them behind your hand as you opened the bottle near the sink.
But he leaned over and asked, âYou okay?â
You nodded, embarrassed, trying to swallow them quickly. âJust for digestion, yâknow? My stomach gets weird after long shifts. I donât always⌠well, canât always eat right after I see something.â
His expression softened like youâd pressed a hand over his chest. He didnât say anything right away, he just took the glass from your hand, poured you another, and passed it back silently.
âYou donât have to explain it,â he said quietly. âI get it.â
You werenât sure he could get it. He didnât have to hold broken children or stitch the soft skin of dying women, and he didnât have to stand still while a monitor flatlined.
But he had burned for someone else. Heâd jumped in front of a car going too fast to stop, taken the brunt of it, let himself be crushed and concussed to save a boy who wasnât ready to die.
So maybe he did understand.
When you came over one Saturday morning, he was more animated than usual.
He was wearing a dark sweater and cargo pants, with hair half-damp from a shower, and his bandage finally gone from his wrist, his body almost healed.
He still couldnât grip with his right hand properly. He said the nerves were healing slowly, but heâd been trying.
âCâmere,â he grinned, reaching for your bag to drop it by the entrance. âI want to show you something.â
You blinked at him, one eyebrow rising. âShow me what?â
âJust come.â He tugged at your hand and pulled you toward the garage.
You hadnât really stepped inside the main garage before. The house had two: one for his daily cars, and the other for, well, whatever this was. The second he flipped the lights on, you saw it.
His car. That car.
The one that had been twisted into fire and pain months ago. The one youâd seen on the news, reduced to smoldering steel.
Now it sat before you, with a brand new frame, the same number, and the same paint job, the shine of it almost surreal under the ceiling lights.
âYou got it back,â you murmured.
âI got her back, my Scarlet.â he said, voice soft with affection. âItâs not exactly the same frame, and weâve upgraded a few things. But⌠yeah. Sheâs mine again.â
You walked slowly around it, trailing your fingers just barely along the side. âAnd youâll drive again.â
âAs soon as they let me.â
âAnd your hand?â He held it up, flexing it in the air. âStill annoying as hell. But Iâve been cooperating with the exercises.â
You smiled, turning to him. âThatâs a first.â
He grinned, full of boyish pride. Then he nodded toward the other side of the garage. âThereâs someone else I want you to meet officially.â
You followed him without question.
Jake was waiting near the workbench, hands shoved in his pockets, his hair tied back with a cap. He looked better than the last time youâd seen him in a panic outside the hospital room, pacing the hall and begging for updates.
âJake,â Heeseung said, his voice low but proud, âthis is Y/N.â
Jake smiled and extended his hand. âYouâre the nurse who yelled at the three others for pampering him with pudding.â
You laughed as you shook it. âThey were fangirling and he was still high on morphine. Someone had to keep his ego in check.â
Heeseung groaned behind you. âYouâre never going to let that go.â
âNot a chance.â
Jake grinned even wider. âI like her.â
âSheâs not just my nurse anymore,â Heeseung said quietly, and when you glanced back at him, he was looking straight at you. âSheâs my girl now.â
The words shouldnât have knocked the air out of your chest the way they did. You werenât sixteen anymore, youâd had men call you worse and sweeter things in the heat of a moment, but thisâ this was soft and real.
You didnât say anything right away. Just smiled, nodded a thank you to Jake, and let Heeseung lead you upstairs again, through the back hallway.
When the door to the garage closed behind you and the silence settled again, you reached for him before he could say anything else.
you pressed your hands to his cheeks gently, careful of the last faint scar that still lingered along the side of his jaw, and kissed him.
He stilled at first, stunned. Then he leaned in, warm and steady, one hand sliding to your hip, the other brushing the back of your neck.
It was the kind of kiss that made time pause. With no rush, no fire behind your teeth. Just slow, deep breaths and the rhythm of his lips against yours, like heâd been waiting too long to ask again.
When you pulled away, you stayed close, your forehead resting against his.
âYou are a wonderful person, Lee Heeseung.â You breathed out.
âYou make me better.â He murmured.
You smiled, kissed the tip of his nose, and said, âNo, thatâs all you.â
Satoru Gojo - hockey Star- loves three things - hockey, coke and women. Which is the reason his coach Sukuna wants to make sure he stays as far away from his niece - you - as possible. Raised by Sukuna after your parents passed, he is almost like a dad to you. Satoru can't help but become obsessed the moment he sees you spinning on the ice. But there's one big problem - an overbearing, grumpy one named Uncle Kuna. Is he right to protect you, or is there more to Satoru than what's on the surface?
âpairings- hockey star! satoru x figure skater! reader
âwarnings - eventual smut, eventual angst, drug use, grumpy but loving Uncle Sukuna, shy/innocent reader, down bad Satoru - he's a bit of a hot mess at first. this chap - kissing, dry humping, mentions of sex, coke use, weed use, masturbation, obsessed Toru. wc-10.6k
this is a commissioned series for my bb @strychnynegirl ahh I am so excited! Art is a comm made for this story by @veroniicannot on IG - so no reposting, go follow her!<3
â headcanons â playlist â chapter two (soon)
chapter one
Satoru Gojo was the top hockey player there was â and with that came a ton of responsibility, when it wasnât pressure from his parents for him to get into a pro team all of college, now it was making sure his teammates won. They were all experienced too, but Satoru was just made for the rink, he could glide on the ice like it was nothing, but he sure put in the time for it.
He was the captain of the pro team now, when their head coach was gone he was the one set to guide the other players, who all happened to be little stubborn shitheads. Satoru was leaning against the rink, watching his teammates run drills with his baby blue eyes that caught every movement, practiced and experienced, lashes as white as the ice below him taking it all in.
The sounds of blades scraping across the ice echo in his ears, mixing with the grunts of the players and the giggles of the girls who come practice figure skating, some of the boys ate it up. Satoru himself had a pretty large fanclub and even now blows them a little kiss, they all freak out and giggle, especially when Suguru executes a perfect slap shot into the top corner of the net.
âShit, good job Sugu,â Suguru blushes when the girls start calling his name. Satoru always loves the attention but heâs a little more shy. âKento, youâre going on offense now.â
Satoru has been on the ice since early morning as usual, yawning just a bit as he joins in, heâs pushing himself harder than anyone else as always â some nights he stays after everyone is gone and itâs all quiet, only his skates cutting through the ice making noise. Everyone saw how great he was, how natural things were to him, but it also came with thousands of hours of practice.
Day in, day out, Satoru was a perfectionist. Yet, he loved it â something freeing about focusing on the precision of his moves, wearing his body down until itâs exhausted and he can blissfully crash out for that two or three hours he gets. He loved the feeling of being utterly sore and spent, only to get up and push himself all over again â he was the best for a reason.
He glides across the ice to grab a drink, when he sees a girl he never has â not one from the âfanclubâ sheâs completely different, quietly spinning in a pretty pirouette, He canât stop looking at her, with those graceful movements that make it look effortless, blades carving delicate patterns on the of the ice as you glide along and make a series of jumps and spins.
Satoru canât get his gaze off you â but then, heâs not the only one. Itâs eerily quiet as the men eye the new girl, some of them commenting how pretty you are, some a little impressed with a spin you land like itâs nothing. Satoru had seen plenty of talented figure skaters before, but there was something about you that froze him in place, the cute little smile on your face when you landed a move.
The boys clap and you blush then, realizing you have an audience, a quiet little smile and wave, before going back to focusing. Satoruâs lost though, he canât stop staring â yeah, youâre a pretty little thing, but heâs always got pretty girls in his bed. Itâs not that, is it?
âSheâs hot, right?â Comes one of his teammates, Satoru instantly gives him an irritated glance.
âShe is pretty,â Suguru says then, smirking over at Satoru. âOh shit, I know that look of yours.â
âWhat look? Sheâs⌠talented, mmkay?â Theyâre laughing just a bit, when Satoru sighs. âFine, she is hot.â
âSheâs my niece,â all of them turn around to see their hockey coach Sukuna skating up, crossing his arms and glaring at them now.
âShit, your niece is hot-â
âToji Iâll fuck your face up more,â Sukuna says, raising a brow and glaring at all of them. Sukuna used to be a hockey player himself, but now he coaches in his early thirties, he was pretty notorious for training the winning team. Everyone found him intimidating due to just how huge and angry he was, but Satoru simply raised a brow himself.
He knows heâs damn near better than Sukuna was. Sure, maybe heâs cocky, but⌠it was accurate.
âSheâs your niece? Whereâs she been?â Satoru asks curiously, youâre skating over, your eyes locked on Sukuna for a moment until you see his stance.
âKuna ââ
âDonât call me that in front of them!?â Theyâre snickering, you pout just a bit, and are apparently so cute Sukuna sighs, ruffling your hair. âDonât pull the puppy dog eyes on me, brat.â
âBe nice, hmm?â He sighs, Satoru has never seen Ryomen Sukuna soft whatsoever.
âFine, they were saying how talented you were, right?â They all stand at attention nodding quickly, you look down shyly at all the attention, hugging your arms a bit, before smiling and looking at Satoru.
God youâre pretty.
The minute your eyes hit his, he can hardly handle whatever the fuck youâre doing to him, holding your hand out now. âYouâre the captain, right?â
âYeah thatâs me,â he takes your hand with a cocky little smile, it swallows your tiny one as you tilt your head back a bit to look at him. âYou are really talented out there.â
âOh thank you so much,â a pretty blush dances across your cheeks now, your eyes looking back down. Fuck youâre cute. âYouâre talented too, Iâve seen your videos all over.â
âYeah?â Satoru grins now, skating a little closer. âYou have?â
âThatâs enough,â Sukuna cuts in, practically unclasping your hands now. âLetâs go talk for a minute, kid. Iâll be back to coach you little shits in a bit.â
âSure, it was nice to meet you,â you say to Satoru, smiling a bit at him and then skating off, but you peer over your shoulder for a moment at him.
âGet your jaw off the floor, buddy.â
âFuck off, letâs get to workâŚâ
âUncle Kuna, you were rude!â Youâre saying, eyeing the handsome white haired player who gives you a little smile. âHe seems sweet.â
âTch, you donât know that boy, any of those boys,â Sukuna hands you a drink and you take it thankfully. âItâs my job to look out for you, just trust me.â
âAll rightâŚâ But how can you focus, when eyes that blue peer at you across the rink?
Gojo watches as you begrudgingly glide across the rink, but he just can't get that dopey grin off his face, Suguru shakes him out of it, Sukuna skates up and fucking glares at him. Yet he canât stop looking, how you glide along the ice, spinning in pretty little circles, waving a little when you think Sukuna canât see, just to have him standing right in front of Satoru again.
âGet to running those, now.â
âCalm down Kuna,â Satoru smacks his shoulder, grinning as Sukuna turns bright red.
âStay away from her.â
âWhy tell me that?â He raises a brow at Sukuna now. âGo tell Toji.â
âI just know your type, fuckinâ act all sweet and then not be serious, you wonât hurt her if I have anything to do with it.â Satoru sighs, grabbing his hockey stick and skating back over to his group.
If anything is known â itâs that Satoru Gojo was an absolute slut, he just loved to fuck, loved women, he loved getting his dick sucked. Why wouldnât he enjoy all the perks of being a famous hockey player? Which absolutely included partying, snorting coke up his nostrils, having a good blunt and letting girls make out over his tip.
That didnât mean Satoru was somehow against the idea of love or dating â he just was enjoying himself, Sukunaâs right in that he would corrupt a cute, innocent little thing like yourself. Fuck corrupting you would be so pretty though, imagining how cute youâd look learning how to take his cock â the thoughts have him hard in the middle of the fucking ice rink.
Satoru wishes anything Sukuna threatened ever sunk in â it didnât.
*****
Itâs been a week since he first saw you.
How can Satoru not come in early to watch you practice every morning, just acting like he needs more time himself, when heâs literally in peak performance. How can Satoru not just peer at you before he gets on the ice, when no one else is there, watching you so cute as you focus, as you fall and get yourself back up.
Youâre goddamn adorable, he canât stop the smile on his face anytime he catches sight of you, but he doesnât really say anything, just waves as he practices, and the two of you are in a comfortable silence on either side of the giant ice rink. Satoru relishes every time you come by him, when youâll skate by and ask him a question, tell him you admire his form.
Admire his form.
Satoru admires yours too, those outfits leave little to the imagination, and youâre achingly pretty, the way he can imagine wrapping his hands right around your waist⌠even when you practice with someone he gets furious. He hates seeing his pretty figure skater have another man spot or spin with her.
His figure skater? Has he really lost it?
He loves when you answer his questions, your shy but reserved conversation â some of the girls he hears call you stuck up, but itâs clear youâre not â even if you donât really make friends. Itâs more youâre achingly shy, and he knows it takes a lot in those moments you talk to him, when you hardly talk to anyone else.
Satoru can't help but picture you every night after you give him a little wave goodbye, when youâre in your cute little tracksuit and he gets just a hint of your tummy in his sight, a little dip of cleavage. God just your collarbones and how your hair falls when itâs out of that tight bun fuck him up â so much so fuck he strokes it to you like it's his own form of worship.
Every time he thinks he can have just a few moment with you, fucking Sukuna is there. Stomping around all angry, scowling right at Satoru, he makes sure to leave no space for Satoru to even find out more than your name and where youâre from. Heâs gathered that you love to skate â of course â and that you like to read, by the books you bring in.
Old books, too, ones he googles when he gets home so he can have a hope to talk to you. Wuthering Heights is the one you always bring, so of course he studies all he can about it, bringing up oh so casually what he thinks of Heathcliff. You brightened up so pretty this morning, and he thinks that was the first time he heard your laugh, a soft little cute one.
Your nose scrunched up, all fucking adorable, and your eyes lit up as you softly agreed with him about Catherine, Satoruâs acting like he read a goddamn book from the eighteen hundreds to impress a girl. He's not sure when he got so pathetic, nor when the sight of a cute nose scrunching up started making him leak pre - but oh, it did.
He catches a glimpse of you as youâre leaving today, almost bumping right into him, your hands on his chest, his on your waist, thumbs pressing into the nip of it, the two of you pausing, eyes meeting. You get lost in his, your heart hammering in your chest, the feeling of his fingers on your skin almost intimate.
Youâve not had anyone even touch you â thanks to Sukuna always being absolutely insane about protecting you â if it wasnât him, it was your brother Yuuji. Sukuna had practically raised you both together. Heâs been off at school for a bit but he was also extremely protective of you, even though he was actually your little brother by a year.
âHey,â he says softly, your lips part as you look at where your hand rests, feeling the beat of his heart steady underneath it. âYou all right?â
âUm, y-yeah,â you can hardly talk, youâre so damn shy in general but especially around Satoru Gojo and his pretty blue eyes just looking right at you. âIâm all right, sorryâŚâ
âDonât apologize sweets,â you blush at the little name, he eases his hand off and you realize yours is still on him, yanking it back, he laughs just a little at that. âHeaded home?â
âI am, um⌠it wasâŚâ Shit, you canât talk at all, it was a little different with everyone on the rink, but just Satoru made it more difficult.
You hate being awkward.
Thatâs the thing about figure skating â you can be elegant, delicate and lovely, but in real life you stammered, you couldnât talk half the time, it was all just too much, too overwhelming. Then you overthought every single word you said, replaying it over in your head, sometimes the dumbest shit that would come out of your mouth when youâre nervous would keep you up all night.
Even now heâs looking curiously and you still canât talk. All you can think of is that cologne heâs wearing, the scent of him, how he feels so warm against you. How tall he is especially without the boost of your skates, the way he looks at you. Uncle Sukuna said all these things about him, partying and this and that, but it doesnât deter you like it should.
He just⌠seems like he has a good soul.
You think youâre a good judge of that?
âIâm just standing here oh god,â he chuckles again, brushing a little lock of your hair back delicately, your heart hammers faster at the brush against your skin, feather light. âIâm sorry Iâm not that um⌠I donât talk alot. I know youâre trying to be friendly this week, I hope you donât think Iâm rude?â
âNot at all.â You exhale in relief. âI talk too fucking much,â you giggle then, so precious Satoru canât stand it, hugging your body just a bit.
âNo, you talk just enough, itâs nice to⌠I like talking to you,â you would have thought you said you wanted to kiss him, how flustered you get, trembling.
âCold?â
âWe are in an ice rink.â
âRight, that, Iâm always warm,â he swipes his brow, a hint of his abdomen showing, that little v cut that almost ruins your senses. âYou look flushed.â
âOh I guess I am,â youâre shivering from being near him, trying to play it off then. âYou are so great out there, especially helping Uncle Kuna.â
âI still canât believe heâs got a little nickname,â you smile, looking down just a bit, making Satoru ache to tilt your chin up, to have a look into your pretty eyes, he almost fucking does it too, barely keeping his composure.
Since when is he nervous like this?
âThereâs a party tomorrow, you should come.â
âOh, no, I donât do crowds and parties.â
âYou⌠compete in front of hundreds of people?â
âYeah, but Iâm kind of alone when I do?â
âThat makes sense,â he murmurs, curious about you more and more, as you put a hand tentatively to his shoulder. âMaybe another time?â
âIf Uncle Kuna would ever let me,â he rolls his eyes.
âUncle Kuna goes to those parties,â you gasp, Satoru grins. âHe does it to âwatch usâ like heâs so much older. Heâs only in his thirties.â
âI know itâs hard to remember, he acts so grown up doesnât he?â
âNah, Iâve seen him playing beer pong, he screams grown frat boy,â youâre laughing again.
âHe was one!â
âFuckinâ called that shit,â Satoru takes your hand then and presses a little kiss to the back of your knuckles.
Heâs never done that but it feels like the right move, youâre so damn pretty and sweet like some girl at a ball in the eighteen hundreds, none of that really makes sense but it does in his own mind. Plus watching you blush and your eye lashes flutter is probably the cutest thing heâs seen.
âUncle Kuna didnât say you were a gentleman.â
âIâm so not,â he lets your hand go, smirking and slipping his hands in his pockets then. âI am probably not that bad as he says though. He always has it out for me.â
âHe seems really proud of you too though! Donât tell him I said it,â Satoru pauses, cheeks reddening a bit.
âAre you in town for a while?â
âIâm staying with him and my brother for a bit. Actually, I was living in the dorms during college, but I want to try to get more practice, more⌠professional?â
âYou look like a pro,â you smile and giggle all fucking cute. âYou do.â
âThank you Satoru,â you both walk towards the front doors now, the air is even chillier with the winter breeze, both of you slinging on your jackets. Satoru looks almost ethereal with the way the moonlight hits his face. âGood night.â
âSee you uh, tomorrow?â You smile and wave, and Satoru canât take that damn dopey grin off his face.
*****
Satoru's snorting a line up his nose as the music hums and the room is filled with everyone dancing that night. He's got a girl on either side of him giggling, both of their hands just touching on him, theyâre pretty and he enjoys them usually, but for whatever reason he feelsâŚ
Off.
âGimme a line, shit,â Tojiâs big ass sits next to him and Satoru rolls his blue eyes, snatching one of the girls right onto his lap. âWanna snort one off her.â
âMy premium coke? You owe me,â Satoru watches as Toji lines that snow up on the girl, the other one leaning close with her lips against Satoruâs ear.
âMmm, can you do one off me?â
âI can,â heâs chuckling and sprinkling powder right on her, leaned over with his nose brushing her skin, hand on her waist.
Thatâs what you walk into â so nervous to go to a party, but your friends on the team convinced you how fun it would be, just to catch sight of Satoru Gojoâs tongue lapping up a pretty skaterâs neck. You know her somewhat, sheâs pretty and sweet, giggling so loudly you can hear her even over the music rushing in the large house.
Suguruâs house apparently.
âHey there,â he is the one who greets you, standing in front of the view you have of Satoru and those girls, the feeling so odd.
You donât even know Satoru, how could you care if he was with someone?
âHi, Suguru, right?â He smiles and takes your hand, a little kiss on the back of it making you flush. âI donât think we formally met.â
âWe havenât yet, Iâm glad you came,â he gestures around. âPlease help yourself to anything at all, would you like a drink?â
âYes please,â he nudges his head and you follow him around, Satoruâs gaze catching yours as heâs laughing, snorting another line off her, he falters just a bit, his lips parting. You just sort of give a small smile and avert your gaze â something about seeing him like that feels a little too intimate to witness.
You didnât know he had a girlfriend orâŚ
Two girlfriends?
âHere, something sweet,â Suguru pours you a little glass of wine, much different than the beer in everyoneâs hands or the liquor lined up.
âHowâd you know Iâm not a drinker?â You ask, he just shrugs a shoulder, corking the bottle.
âA guess is all, I know these parties get a little crazy, just tell me if anyone bothers you, yeah? Iâll kick them out.â
âThank you,â you place a hand on his shoulder, before clearing your throat and smiling, noticing Satoru walking your way, the girl tugging at his light blue jersey. âIs that his girlfriend?â
âGirlfriend? Oh, no he doesnâtâŚâ
Satoruâs right in front of you, hands in his pockets, smiling in that way only he can, you see the smallest hint of residue on his plump lips, which he laps off with a flick of his tongue. âYou came! I didnât uh⌠think you would?â
âI did come,â you look down a bit nervously, clearing your throat and smiling now, sipping on the wine. âYou look like youâre having fun.â
âEh I guess,â he rubs the back of his neck, shifting a bit and looking at Suguru. âGot her the good stuff, huh?â
âMhm, Iâll let you two talk,â he smiles at you as he walks away, Satoru is close to you â too close, you can inhale that scent in your nostrils, something just him.
You canât be jealous of someone you donât know.
You plaster on a pretty smile now, sipping the sweet drink. âYou donât have to come entertain me.â
âI invited you and itâs not⌠I donât have toâŚâ Fuck, why does he get tongue tied like this? âI uh⌠I really wanted to see you.â
âYou did?â His big grin is your answer, leaning on the counter and ignoring the girls who try to call him over. âI think youâre kind of popular.â
âYeah well theyâre fine,â he takes your drink and sips it, putting his lips right where you had, his eyes darkening as they study you over the rim. âMmm, yummy.â
Fuck.
Gojoâs licking his lips and doing insane things to your tummy, fluttering like thereâs a million butterflies, he steps closer to you, brushing your hair back. âYou really came.â
âI did,â you laugh softly when the music shifts.
âWanna dance?â
âOh um,â you flush and sip your wine, clearing your throat just a bit. âAre you sure you wanna dance with me?â
âThatâs why I asked,â he sets his cup down, taking your glass and putting it in the fridge, you blink curiously. âSafer in there, a lot of people here tonight.â
You blink a bit curiously, tilting your head. âSafer?â
âFromâŚâ He trails off, taking your hand. âGuys can drug drinks, no one on my team would but other players? Thereâs some really horrible men, even if I havenât personally seen it happen â I've heard shit.â
âYouâre keeping my drink safe,â you melt as he shrugs as if thatâs just something normal â so caring you ache.
Sukuna and Yuuji care for you but theyâre family â Satoru is still a stranger.
âNo big deal sweetheart.â
âItâs really sweet of you,â he gets a little flustered, tugging you into the enormous living room, with vaulted ceilings and fancy, modern chandeliers hanging. You look up in wonder at them, so pretty then, theyâre glowing right along your face, and for a moment his breath is smacked out of his lungs.
Satoru could just stare at you all day.
âItâs so pretty,â you sigh now â blinking just a bit as your gaze is captured.
To be engrossed in a chandelier when everyone around him was just snorting coke, drinking, smokingâŚ
âItâs very pretty,â he agrees, looking right at you. You catch sight of it and look back down nervously, biting your lip. âHey, look at me.â
You raise your eyes, your heart hammering in your chest. âI suck at eye contact.â
âIâll help you,â he turns you around in a little circle, tugging you against his hard body, making you melt. âItâll help with skating when youâre competing, being able to look at the crowd.â
âThatâs true, oh sorry!â You stumble a bit so he just picks you up, you gasp at that, youâve had partners pick you up countless times but not like this, just spinning you and holding you up with your feet dangling.
âA figure skater who canât dance? Thatâs insane baby,â you laugh as he sets you down on your feet, feeling the eyes of those girls now. âWhat is it?â
âI donât think they like me,â you murmur, Satoru looks back at them and frowns just a bit. âTheyâre scowling.â
âNah, they justâŚâ He doesnât even know what to say, heâs forgotten their names again. âJust curious about you.â
âYouâre so different from what Sukuna says,â he snorts now, rolling his eyes and turning you, tugging your back against him. âHe says youâre a menace.â
âWell I am,â you snort a bit, and he chuckles, feeling the curve of your ass pressing on his thighs. âYou donât think Iâm a menace?â
âYou just seem thoughtful and kind,â he pauses now, those words arenât typically what people say.
Even though Satoru was kind, they typically just saw the confidence, the arrogance, the ego hiding so much. He pauses a bit and then grips your hips, moving them, his lips brushing against your ear as he bends down. âMove those hips like you do on the ice.â
Youâre so nervous â people are looking at you two, if Sukuna found out heâd probably lock you up in your room, but youâre not going to tell Satoru no, you want to listen to him. His soft little commands are overwhelming, hips rocking back against him and then around with his guidance, your head falling back against his chest as you move with him.
âThere you go,â his words are like honey, sweeter than the wine on your tongue, just those few sips already rushing through your body, heated up by him. âTurn and show me what ya got.â
You turn and look at him in those pretty blue eyes, earning his pleased grin, his lashes lowered as he leans down, tugging you against him again. âEveryoneâs looking at us.â
âMhm,â you start moving with him, finding his own rhythm, every little brush of his fingers igniting something inside you. âFeel the music, like you do in a routine.â
You close your eyes and feel it like he says, the music thrumming, the tingles that shoot out from the way his hands grip your hips, youâre rolling your hips without his help soon enough, body moving right with him. As if heâs your partner lifting you and guiding you during your moves, the way he spins you makes you dizzy, having you face him once more.
Your eyes flutter open and this pretty smile hits your face, making Satoru grin right with you, laughing softly just a bit, the girls are still murmuring about you, but at the moment you really canât care. You feel so pretty with how Satoru just looks at you, though you wonderâŚ
How much of this is just him?
Just charming Satoru Gojo who does this with everyone? Were others used to or immune to it? You find it nearly impossible to be.
âYouâre doing it on your own, see? Look at you moving like that,â the way heâs talking hits something inside you, making your core burn up, your thighs clench together, every word shooting right between them. âDoing sâgood.â
Heâs muffling his words, spinning you again, lips now pressed against your cheek as he leans down, brushing against your skin. âYou think so, Gojo?â
âCall me Satoru,â he corrects, his hand splaying your tummy, picturing how heâll be able to see himself inside it, feeling fucking filthy. âOf course I think so.â
âI um⌠reallyâŚâ The song comes to a halt and Toji steps up on the table, you swear itâll break heâs so damn big, shouting at everyone.
âAll right you drunk fucks,â everyone laughs at him, Satoru simply rolls his eyes, hands falling off your waist ever so slightly. âTime for us all to chug.â
âChug?â You ask softly, Satoru sighs, fucking Toji ruining his moment with you for him to chug beer â Satoru hates beer.
âYeah, Iâll be right back though okay?â You nod and he rushes over, as if heâs dying to get it over with, when the two girls who had glared daggers at you are on either side of him. He seems a little tense, but he doesnât move, he just takes the can Suguru hands him, putting it to his lips.
You just met Satoru Gojo. You canât go having all these feelings for a man who is a stranger, especially the gnawing jealousy as the girls all half naked are bouncing around, making you question your attire. Were you too prim and proper? Was Satoru into a more⌠bold woman?
Why do you care so damn much already?
Satoru, of course was in his element, he finishes his beer with a speed faster than everyone, slamming the can down before anyone else could â even Toji. âHah, won like always.â
âSwear you take dick down your throat,â Toji grumbles, Satoru snorts in laughter, blowing him a kiss.
âYou wish, baby boy.â
âUgh,â everyone is laughing and cheering, youâre just watching ever curiously, smiling when his eyes find yours in the crowd, all twinkling and so pretty you forget the girls next to him.
The girl in the crop top on the left fists her hands in his jersey, pulling him down for a messy kiss.
You saw him kissing that girl earlier and⌠it was fine, you guess, but something about this one after he danced with youâŚ
Fuck you think too much into things.
He was having fun, youâre planning some romantic love â youâve always had your head in the clouds, you suppose now is no different, your heart just fucking hurts though. He pushes her off him and clears his throat as you rush over to the kitchen, dying to drink that wine suddenly.
What was wrong with you?
âHey⌠easy,â Satoruâs annoyed as shit, but how can he explain to a girl he just had in his lap grinding on him that youâre here, and he only wants to talk to you, to look at you.
Itâs insane, whatever it is you do to his mind, he feels bad for a moment when she pouts. âBut Satoru, I was hoping youâd come home with us.â
âBoth of us,â the other girl bounces over right next to her, and normally Satoru would be all about fucking two pretty women, seeing them fuck.
What was wrong with him?
His eyes go to find yours and he sees you over there talking to Suguru, who brushes a lock of your hair back, itâs nothing lewd or forward â itâs sweet if anything, but it stabs him right in the fucking chest. Your eyes meet his and lower when these girls kiss on him, something heâs never felt embarrassed or ashamed about. Itâs not like Satoru has ever even dated a girl.
All he does is party, fuck, play hockey, repeat. Countless girls on him, underneath him, sucking him down, fighting over who could swallow his cum first, never has he had a moment to question it. Anything to fill those lonely times, those thoughts when heâs all alone in his home, and he feels that loneliness, that exhaustion.
Never has he felt so goddamn mad his friend is laughing with a girl, the friend heâs fucked girls with, he wants to smack his goddamn hand.
âI gotta go, not tonight,â he mumbles, rushing toward the kitchen, hands in his pockets and smiling at Suguru and you, as if everything is fine. âSorry about that, theyâre fucking clingy.â
âThey like you alot,â you murmur, Satoru just blinks a bit, lips parted. âYou donât have to hang out because you invited me, have fun.â
âWhat!? No, not at all,â his phone starts buzzing like crazy, he puts it on silent, reading all the messages from girls asking him to come over.
âSatoruâs the most popular,â Suguru says, not in a mean way, itâs sweet if anything. âMe not so much.â
âWhat? Everyone was gushing about both of you,â Suguru blushes and you giggle, youâre not used to someone blushing as bright as you do.
âI am not as good with attention.â
âI love attention,â Satoru grins and you giggle just a bit, before noticing the lipstick stuck to his mouth â an obnoxious glitter. âHave something on my face?â
âYeah,â you lean forward and swipe the glitter off his lips, he sucks in a breath at the act, before he sees all the glitter on your finger. âYour girlfriends are sparkly.â
âNot girlfriends,â he grabs another drink and downs it, cursing internally, feeling like heâs already fucked it up somehow, even if youâre smiling and just sipping your drink. Suguru is enamored with you, he doesn't even look Satoru's way.
Maybe when Suguru asked if he thought you were pretty he should have admitted it and not deflected.
âWell I'm glad if I didn't ruin your fun or anything,â he curses internally. He invited you here but he didn't take into account who you are.
You're different from anyone here and he'd never want to change that, but how did he think you'd fit into such a crowd? Of course you'd talk to a much calmer person like Suguru amidst the chaos.
Yet he wanted you here.
âNot at all, I'm always partying. I promise I'm not missing out,â he clears his throat now, when Choso walks over to them. He's related to Sukuna so of course he knows you, immediately giving you a hug.
âHey! Oh god, Sukuna is gonna kill you,â you sigh and nod, covering your face.
âI know, don't tell him!â He holds up two fingers.
âSecret is safe from me, plus it'll do you some good to get out,â he looks at Satoru and Suguru now. âI'm glad you're with them and not some randoms though, in that case I'd have to snatch you out of here.â
âIf you're Sukuna's nephewâŚâ Suguru â stoned already â tries to put two and two together as he looks between you both. âAnd you're his niece⌠How many does Sukuna have?â
âA lot,â Choso admits, lips twitching up with amusement. âOur family is all over the place,â he sighs now. âYou know Yuuji is joining the team soon?â
âYes he's so excited! Choso you should come over for dinner sometime?â
âI can soon,â he tugs out a blunt then, smirking. âDo you partake or is this too crazy?â
âI haven't before,â you blush a bit. âWill it mess me up?â
âNah it's more calming, but I'll leave it up to you,â someone starts shouting for him, Choso was absolutely the plug of the hockey team. âHere, give it to them or smoke it, no pressure. Just be careful when you get home. Sukuna used to cuss me out when he caught me.â
You smile at him and nod, taking the blunt curiously, looking at the two men. âUm have you allâŚâ
They chuckle. âMaybe every night before bed?â Suguru says, you giggle at that, handing it to him.
âI also partake, but it can make you a little dizzy,â Satoru says softly, looking over at Suguru. âWe should do this in private, she's already got a couple fan girls and I don't want any drama for her.â
âFangirls?â You ask, Suguru tops off your wine then gestures for you to follow them both.
âAs in â they're jealous of you,â Suguru answers, leading you up the stairs into his room. âTry not to let that all get to you too much.â
âI do feel they think I'm stuck up,â you mumble, heart racing when Satoru's hand rests on the small of your back for a moment, helping you avoid a very drunk partygoer stumbling all around. âThank you.â
 âOf course,â his touch feels far too good â but a part of you tries to remember the kisses he got, the glitter on his skin. He is probably someone who doesn't date, and your heart couldn't take anything casual. Even if it's difficult not to react to any touch or look.
âIt'll be quieter in here,â Suguru looks at you then. âAre you comfortable coming in my room?â
âYes,â you murmur. You've heard only good things about Suguru â a gentleman by even Sukuna's words, and you already feel comfy with Satoru.
Sukuna would kill you if he knew you were gonna smoke a blunt at a party in their room. Something about that mixes you with panic and a little thrill â you're always such a good girl, a little fun is exciting as it is scary.
âHave a seat,â Suguru takes the chair, you and Satoru sit at the edge of his bed â your thighs brushing against each other as Suguru takes the blunt and lights it up, inhaling and tilting his head back a bit. âWhat do you think â first party and all?â
âI donât know if itâs really my scene,â you admit softly, Satoru feels just a little bit of guilt for inviting you, but youâre quickly smiling at him. âIâm glad I came, though.â
âYeah?â He exhales almost in relief when you nod, smiling a bit, your legs crossing, that cute little skirt slipping up your thighs.
âGood, though Iâd suggest being very careful,â Suguru says, leaning forward and handing you the blunt. âI donât want Sukuna to lose his shit, but also parties other than ours? Get really rowdy, especially Naoyaâs.â
âOh, is that the blonde guy? HeâsâŚâ
âA dick?â Satoru finishes, you blush now. âItâs okay, we all hate him too, just a hell of a player.â
âHe was kind of lewd with his⌠he hit on me andâŚâ
âWhat?â Satoru glares, Suguru clears his throat, standing and holding your hand in his, smiling.
âWant me to show you how?â You nod, realizing that youâre still holding the burning blunt in your fingers. âPut it to your lips and suck, just enough to fill your mouth â not so much that you feel sick, all right?â
âYes,â with his help you wrap your lips around the blunt, inhaling just a bit, the smoke filling you too thick, you immediately cough. âOh!â
âYou all right?â Suguru and Satoru both touch your back carefully, you nod and pass it to Satoru, he takes a big drag of it, filling his lungs â even that is attractive honestly, your heart is racing just being so close to him.
âWhen did Naoya hit on you?â Satoru asks, passing the blunt back over to Suguru, blue eyes focusing on you.
âThe other day, ânice ass new girlâ and he asked me to come over, got all offended because I didnât respond⌠I was just too nervous and it made meâŚâ
âSurprised Sukuna hasnât beat him,â Suguru says, handing it to you with a frown.
âI didnât say anything.â
âIâll say something,â Satoruâs words make you inhale just a little too much of the blunt this time.
Youâre coughing all delicate, even thatâs cute, Satoru notices, Suguru curses then when his phone starts going off. âWhat is it, Sugu?â
âThe same shit as always â speaking of the little shit, Naoya and Toji are fighting.â
âAgain?â
âYep, I gotta go break the shit up before they destroy my place.â
âFuck,â Satoru tenses just a bit, seeing you still coughing a little. âNeed me to help?â
âNah itâs fine,â Suguru leans down a bit. âAre you all right here, love?â
âYes,â you clear your throat and smile. âI donât think I can handle smoking very well.â
âYou took a hit like a champ,â he ruffles your hair affectionately, before doing the same to Satoru, making him glare. âIâll see you two downstairs, but wait a bit â that shit is gonna get rowdy. Just let me know if you need anything, okay? Water, food, a ride â donât be shy to ask me or Satoru.â
âOh,â you blush at how thoughtful the two men are. âThank you, Suguru.â
âGood luck with âem,â Satoru grumbles, Suguru walks out and shuts the door behind him quickly, you faintly hear just a bit of the rowdiness in the huge home Suguru has, muffled once more by the door.
Youâre alone with Satoru Gojo.
âAre you all done, sweetheart?â He asks, holding the blunt to his lips and inhaling the thick plume of smoke, blowing it upward after holding it in.
âI think I suck at taking hits,â he smiles and shakes his head, a hand brushing back a little tendril of hair. âItâs very new to me.â
âYou donât suck at all, here you can⌠I can breathe the smoke in your mouth, itâs less that way? But only if youâre okay with it,â you blush furiously, and he notices.
âWouldnât that be a kiss?â
âIt would be a kiss,â he whispers, leaning closer now, fingertips brushing against your cheek.
âI donât want to kiss that glitter,â you glare a little and he laughs, shaking his head and slipping chapstick out of his pocket, swiping it on. âHmm, I donât know, I think I see a little bit.â
âI swear I donât want their glitter on me,â he pauses, lips parted just a bit, taking your hand in his. âWipe it all off real good, the slutty glitter.â
You giggle, the smoke and drinks rushing through your system, coming close and swiping the remaining sparkles off his lips, until youâre achingly close, your thigh almost over his on the bed. His hand brushes against it, swallowing nervously as you lean close to him, and the blunt is still in his hands, burning out slowly.
Should you tell him youâve never kissed? What would he think, you in your early twenties and not a single one? A lot of it was Sukuna, but a lot of it was your shyness, the way you didnât open up to people easily. Yet thinking of kissing those soft lips has butterflies rushing through your tummy, has you so dizzy as he looks into your eyes the way only Satoru Gojo can.
But could you remember that heâs not serious like that? Could you just kiss him to do it, when youâre a little hopeless romantic?
âWe donât have to do anything you donât want,â he murmurs then, hand slipping higher, thumb brushing little circles on your thigh, making you soaking wet â to the point itâs embarrassing. His gaze flickers down your body for a brief moment, sighing just a bit. âI didnât invite you here to get anything like this from you, I get that youâreâŚâ
âWhat, Satoru?â
He swallows again, leaning closer. âInnocent, sweet, off limits⌠I want you to have some fun but I donât want you to think thatâs what I asked you here for.â
âWhy did you ask me?â You ask then, he sighs, nose almost brushing against yours.
âCall me very curious about you, who you are, what makes you tick⌠I am achingly curious about you, pretty little figure skater,â you blush even more, and he chuckles a bit. âYour cheeks are burning hot.â
âYou think IâmâŚâ
âPretty? Yeah,â his lips press your cheek, feeling the warmth against them, and you ease even more onto his thigh, until he can almost feel your heat. âWho doesnât think youâre pretty?â
âI um⌠wanna try theâŚâ
âShotgun?â
âIt sounds like trouble,â he laughs softly, bringing the blunt to his lips and looking at you under those white lashes.
âIâll inhale it and blow into your mouth, you keep it in as long as you can, but donât make yourself dizzy,â you nod and he tugs you firmly on his lap now, your hands on his shoulders, breath caught at the proximity.
Youâre on Satoru Gojoâs lap â you, top figure skater, achingly close against the top Hockey star.
But right now, youâre just a boy and a girl, and Satoru for all his experience looks very boyish right now, blushing himself as he inhales the smoke, and his hand entangles in your hair. You lean down, your lips against his for the first time, feeling the smoke blow into your mouth in a cloud, his hand snaking around to the small of your back as he blows.
Your first kiss is with Satoru Gojo.
He pulls back and you blow the smoke out, but his eyes are different â lidded and sultry, his lips parted just so, glossy from your own. He kisses you once more, tugging you even further on him, and your eyes flutter shut, rocking into the sensation of him, getting high off his kisses, when his tongue swipes in, you pause â pulling back and gasping.
âToo far?â He murmurs, setting the blunt on the ash tray near the bed, leaning just a bit as you cling to him, you fall just a bit further as he loses his balance, now on his back with you on him.
âIâm so sorryâŚâ You whisper, he leans up on his elbows, hands on your thighs, taking them over. âI um⌠it wasnât too far.â
âNo, you sure?â He asks softly, youâre pushed to the center of the bed looking down at him, feeling just how hard he is.
Youâve seen things, read things, but you donât know whatâs real and what is for fiction or for show, suddenly so nervous, but you lean forward and kiss him again, intoxicated from his lips. The cherry chapstick seeps onto your tastebuds, when he flicks his tongue against yours again, moaning.
âI havenât kissed,â you whisper, shutting your eyes in embarrassment, Satoruâs quiet. âI know, how havenât I? Itâs so⌠em-â
âItâs cute,â he cuts you off and answers softly, cupping your face with one hand as he sits up. âHey, look at me.â
You do just that, and suddenly Satoru feels something he canât place, some sort of protective feeling towards you â just as much as he wants to corrupt you, have you arch for him, ride his face. Another part wants to make sure youâre sweet like this forever, to not ruin that part of you, the little innocent one thatâs looking at him so trusting then.
Was Satoru any good for you? Sukuna was right about one thing, he wasnât serious about anything but hockey, but how can he not want to show you how to kiss? How can he not want to claim your lips first and drink your sighs, feel the gentle weight of you on his hips, your thighs pressing tightly â all those years of training he can feel underneath his fingertips.
âYouâre precious,â he muses out loud, you giggle and shake your head. âWhyâd you pick me, for the first kiss? Isnât that a big deal to you?â
âYeah it is,â your words are soft and breathy, he can feel your heat rushing against his cock, the one aching to slam inside you â but he can hold himself back, he has to hold it all down. âIt feels right to kiss you, is that really odd to say? Am I sounding high already?â
He laughs softly, shaking his head and letting his lips brush against the tip of your nose. âNo sweetheart, I think if you feel something you should be able to say it to me. Do you want me to show you how to kiss?â
âCould you?â You ask carefully, biting on your lip and drawing his attention to it. âI am afraid I wonât be very good at it likeâŚâ
âYeah no need to compare yourself,â he already knows youâre beyond those girls â he should feel bad that he suddenly doesnât care about the fun he had with them, maybe he will later.
Right now he just wants to kiss every inch of your cute little body â but for this very moment, he leaves it to your lips, pressing again and sighing, precum leaking and making his cock stick to his boxers. You exhale and lean into the kiss, rocking your hips and then pausing.
âI donât know why theyâre doing that,â he laughs softly, drunk off just the way youâre looking up at him.
âDancing like earlier,â he whispers, hands coming to rest on them, his thumbs pressing against your pelvis and feeling you rock once more. âDoes it feel good?â
âToo good,â you pause your hips with a shaky breath. Satoru looking at you like this, kissing you like this? How badly could it hurt you, if you fall the way you think you already are? âUm how do I⌠your tongue⌠Iâve only seen people do it.â
âAh, you just move it along till we find a rhythm,â he kisses you again, tongue slipping in your mouth, tilting his head as his snowy lashes flutter shut, tickling your cheeks, theyâre so long. âTry to move it.â
âOkay,â you tentatively move your tongue against his, matching the movements â his tongue is long compared to your little pink one, taking your mouth over like heâs drinking you. âMmmâŚâ
It's awkward at first when you try, going too fast, too slow, like a routing where youâre just learning the movements, but Satoru is patient, he doesnât push it, pulling back and laughing softly, pressing kisses on the corners of your lips. He guides you, his tongue stroking yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm that takes your breath.
Youâre mad that anyone ever kissed Satoru â and you know thatâs toxic, you know itâs insanity when you both arenât together, but you feel it anyway, as your hips start moving again, grinding against his cock which just keeps thickening. You can feel every inch of him through the thin fabric of your panties, already soaked, dripping onto his dark blue jeans.
Satoru groans into your mouth, his hands tightening on your hips bruisingly, pulling back to gasp for a breath, his pupils blown out. "FuckâŚâ
âGood? Bad?â He laughs and shakes his head.
âLittle too good,â he winces when you move again, knowing heâs going to be aching when you leave, gonna have to jerk his cock to you.
Not like he hasnât already.
Several times.
âYouâre a natural at it,â he murmurs, kissing your chin, down your jaw, your lashes flutter shut when his lips touch the nape of your neck, making you cry out â this sexy sound that fucking ruins him. âYou sound like that from a kiss on the neck?â
âMnh,â you whine out again, his lips burning hot on your skin, like heâs kissing little memories all over them, your hands entangle in his white locks, soft and fluffy in your touch, his hand slipping up to grip a breast. âAh!â
âYou have no idea what you're doing to me sweetheart,â heâs damn near babbling, so lost in your natural sensuality, you donât even realize the chokehold you have him in with every breath. The weight of your pretty tit feels perfect in his palm, thumb brushing a circle around your nipple as he teeth nip your ear. âWonder how you sound if I kiss you here, and here, and hereâŚ.â
Satoruâs lips trail down, your bare shoulder, his other hand slides up your back, underneath that top, his long, calloused fingers tracing patterns on your skin. You arch into his touch, your nipple so sensitive, youâre getting dizzy from him, head falling to the side for more of his hungry kisses, the flicks of his tongue, the scraping of his teeth.
âSatoruâŚâ
âGod,â he murmurs your name before he finds your lips, searing a kiss right on your mouth once more, until the both of you canât breathe. âDo you want me to make you cum?â
âM-make meâŚâ
âYou donât have to touch me,â he whispers, hands slipping back down to your thighs, eyeing the slick thatâs dripping down them. âYouâre soaked, baby.â
Baby.
Fuck.
Youâre so dizzy now, it canât just be Satoru â not when the room is starting to whir, and you gasp out, pausing with your nails pressing into his shoulders, Satoru looks up at you now, brows drawn together. âHey, are you all right sweetheart?â
"Everything's... spinning a little,â you whisper, his hands are on your face instantly, his expression shifting from heady desire to worry immediately.
"Hey, look at me, Iâm right here, yeah? Am I spinning too?â
You try to focus on his pretty blue eyes, but they even seem to be swirling. "Yeah, just... maybe the blunt? Or wine? I feel a little dizzy."
His thumb is stroking your cheek gently in little circles, as he takes a breath, willing his cock to go so he can focus on making sure that youâre all right. "Okay, that's enough for tonight, yeah?â
âOh but I⌠wanted toâŚâ
Satoru smirks now, easing you off his lap, little gossamer strands of slick pulling and dissolving from your panties to his cock where youâre connected. When you see the mess you made and cover your face, horrified, Satoru just looks at you curiously, brushing back your hair.
âWhatâs wrong?â
âIâm so sorry, oh god,â he looks down at the wet patch you left and grins, a devious little grin then.
âThat?â He uses his thumb to brush the slick you left, glistening with an embarrassing amount of your arousal.
âDonât make it worse! Itâs already â ah⌠hah youâre⌠umâŚâ You canât speak when he sucks your arousal off his fingertip, lips wrapping around it, moaning and shutting his eyes as his cheeks hollow.
Heâs tasting your cunt right off his pants.
âFuck,â heâs looking right at you again, lids heavy like heâs as fucked up as you are on him. âYouâre so sweet.â
âI am?â He laughs again softly, nodding. âYou tasted me?â
âMhm.â
âCan I taste you?â
âDear god,â you blush now as he groans, laying back on the bed for a moment and covering his eyes. âYou canât say that, looking all pretty and fucked out already, Iâm trying to do the right thing.â
âI just thought if you taste me ââ
âCome here,â he tugs you down for one more kiss, you land on his chest and he tilts your chin, exhaling, his breath tickling your lips. âAnother time maybe, yeah? Driving me insane.â
âAm I?â Youâre so fucking cute you clearly donât know you have Satoru Gojo of all people about to cum in his damn pants.Â
âVery,â his hand runs down your arm carefully. âLemme take you home.â
âYouâve been drinking though?â
âI donât drive,â you blink curiously and Satoru chuckles. âDriver, he takes me wherever. I can take you home and head to my place.â
âIs it out of the way?â
âNot at all, youâre staying with Sukuna, yeah?â
âFor a bit, till I get my own place out here yeah,â he nods and soon heâs fixing your outfit so no one could tell youâd had it scrunched up, tugged down.
âDid you eat today?â
âUh,â you frown when you all step into the cool air after leaving the party and saying good bye to Suguru. âI think I ate a string cheese.â
âWhat now?â He frowns at you. âAnd you trained?â
âI ate some cereal this morning!â
âNo wonder youâre dizzy, your girl dinner shit,â you laugh at that, stepping into the back of the car with him. âYou have to eat if you drink, and you really should eat with how much you train.â
âI kind of forgot,â you admit softly, fiddling with your skirt, youâre so close to him in the backseat, and you can feel those butterflies all over again. âSo those girls⌠theyâre not your girlfriends?â
âNo sweetheart, and no deflecting from the fact Iâm getting you food,â he leans forward and pulls aside the partition, telling him where to go.
âDo you um⌠date, Satoru?â
âI um,â he rubs the back of his neck now, sighing. âNot really, but it doesnât mean I wouldn't, I just⌠havenât.â
âSame I havenât either,â he smiles softly at you. âThough I didnât have fun quite like you.â
âThatâs okay, no need to be a slut like me,â you giggle and the sound is so cute he thinks heâd like to hear it every damn day. âHow about if you eat really good all week for me, we sneak a date next weekend? It will be a first for us both.â
âA date?â Youâre a blushing mess now, his own heart is racing.
Satoru hasnât gone on a date â heâs fucked so many women, heâs had drinks, gone to their place, had them over. Small talk, not just sex, aftercare of course, but heâs never just gone out. Where would he take you, what did you like? And most importantly, how the fuck could he not let Sukuna know?
Heâs a walking dead man if he knew his niece had her cunt soaking Satoruâs clothed cock tonight.
âA date, Iâd like it,â you frown a bit then. âBut Uncle KunaâŚâ
âYeah, weâll have to be pretty discreet,â he mumbles, you two stop and he orders you both food out the window quickly. âI think heâll kill me if he knows we take one.â
âHe will,â you sigh and take the fry he hands you, nibbling it from his fingers. âOh I never get fast food! Sukunaâs always making healthy, protein-filled blah blah.â
âThatâs good but for the weed munchies? Greasy fries,â youâre giggle as he feeds you carefully, and Satoru doesnât know how the fuck heâll not take every bit of time you want to give him.
He wishes he felt bad that youâre Sukunaâs niece.
He really doesnât though, not when youâre taking a little bite of a burger and heâs dabbing your lips, smirking at you. âYouâre stoned, baby.â
âShit, I am,â you sigh and shake your head, sipping on the coke now. âI donât think Iâll smoke again.â
âThatâs probably a good idea, especially if youâre not used to it,â he sips from the same drink, lips wrapping the straw, you swipe a little drop off his lips, making him pause. âDangerous, sweetheart.â
âDangerous, hmm?â
âVery,â he sets down the food and cups your face, kissing your lips, sighing. âNot much is stopping me from having you cum on my fingers tonight aside from you being dizzy.â
âOh? Oh,â your mind is flitted with filthy images as the car stops.
âAnd Sukuna killing me, but I think itâd be worth it to hear you moan,â you bite down on your lower lip, earning his frustrated little moan, tugging it from the grip and kissing you once more. âGet some rest, yeah? No date if I catch you calling a string cheese a meal.â
âYes, sir,â your words about fuck him up more, sneaking one little kiss and smiling. âTonight was so much fun, Satoru, thank you.â
âDonât thank me,â he shouldnât be thanked when he wants to drag you right back on his lap. âGood night sweetheart.â
âGood night.â
Youâre all giggling and blushing when you walk inside â just for Sukuna and Yuuji to be sitting at the dining room table, both looking at you. Yuuji, with worry, Sukuna is fucking scowling at you.
âUh, Yuuji, you are here! Yay!â
âYeah I flew in tonight,â you rush over and hug him, and get a little dizzy once more, he frowns, leaning back and looking at you. âAre you all right?â He whispers, as if Sukuna wonât hear.
âSheâs drunk, are you drunk young lady!?â
âNo sir!â You stiffen up and he snorts, rolling his ruby red eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.
âAre you lying, brat?â
âYes sir,â you mumble now, shoulders falling just a bit. âI only had two glasses of wine, Iâm just a lightweight.â
âWine at that party?â
âHowâd you know?â
âSo you did!â
âUgh,â you go over to the fridge and grab a cold water, downing it in greedy gulps, for your uncle to scoff. âWhat?â
âYouâre stoned too?â
âHow do you know!?âÂ
âOkay â Iâm gonna sleep guys, aha,â Yuuji waves and rushes off, leaving you to the wolves, Sukuna walks right up to you, grabbing the water.
âUncle KunaâŚâ
âDonât Uncle Kuna me and bat your lashes,â his jaw tenses, filling your water with electrolyte powder. âI wonât have you hungover tomorrow.â
âOh,â he shakes it up then hands it back, you take it gratefully, pouting and looking at the bottle. âI am sorry I went to the party, just Iâve never been to one, and I wanted so badly to see what it was all about.â
âAnd did you enjoy it?â You smile now, and he scowls again. âLet me guess â Satoru Gojo invited you.â
âNo!â Sukuna raises a brow, making you roll your eyes. âI hung out with him and Suguru, but they were very polite.â
âUh huh Iâm sure, I swear if they harm a hair on your headââ
âIâm not a baby,â your words hit then, he frowns and looks away, making you sigh, shutting your eyes and hugging the big man tightly. âUncle Kuna, I know you just care.â
âI have to take care of you kids,â you nod and swallow down emotions, as he pats your back. âYouâre still a baby, you just think youâre grown.â
âSays such an âold wise manâ.â
âI am.â
âYouâre not much older than me,â he frowns and ruffles your hair.
âYou smell like loud ass blueberry weed, I know that was fucking Choso, Iâll beat him too.â
âNo you wonât,â you glare and he just tugs you tighter, squeezing you to death in his form of affection. âI wonât smoke again, but can I get credit for being twenty-two before I did?â
âNo you canât,â youâre unceremoniously shoved off him now. âGet your ass to bed, I will not let you sleep in, you have that new trainer.â
âAll right, fineâŚâ You kiss his cheek and he hides his smile, before he thinks of how heâll kill Satoru tomorrow.
You lay in your bed and giggle, taking your phone out to see Satoru has texted you good night, you text him back with a little heart.
A date with Satoru Gojo.
The Satoru Gojo who couldnât wait to get home, the moment he does heâs leaned against the door, heâs got his cock in his hand, spitting on it and moaning out, stroking it up and down in filthy motions, is picturing you. His thumb smears the precum drooling on his pretty blush tip, making him jerk, as texts from others go unnoticed, ignored â instead looking at the cute little heart you sent.
"Fuck, sweetheart," he whispers to nothing, his eyes squeezed shut, imagining if he did get to make you cum for the first time. God, imagine getting to have his mouth on you, to taste your cunt from the source, make you shake, tremble â fall apart on his tongue.
His grip tightens, his hips thrusting up into his slick palm, heâs embarrassingly close in a few strokes â whatever the fuck youâre doing to him, cum pulsing in white ropes, spilling down his palm, wondering if youâre touching yourself. You probably would need him to show you how, just that thought makes his cock twitch, has him whimpering as he lays his head back.
Fuck.
He wishes Sukunaâs threats would be some sort of deterrent, but as heâs looking you up like a batshit crazy psycho, not sleeping when he has practice in the morning, he knows he really doesnât fucking care. When heâs jerking it again to your pretty little professional ice skater photos⌠Well, Satoru Gojo might just be obsessed with Sukunaâs niece.
He may be a walking â or jerking â dead man.
****
part two will be in a couple weeks, where things will get very complicated hehe, I'm going to have so much fun! plz be respectful as this is a commission of the character/personality chosen in the comments <3
Patreon for more exclusive fics <3 comms closed for the moment!
geto suguru is everyoneâs first crush. having a crush on him is as hopeless as it is inevitable though your friends quickly disagree that the awe-struck, mouth gaping expression is a strictly you thing, and that he isn't as much of a campus celebrity as you believe he is. regardless, you're determined to put your inability to hold a conversation with him in the past. the solution is simple, you seek out his best friend. if geto suguru is everyoneâs first crush (again, a completely objective statement), then gojo satoru is everyoneâs first heartbreak.
pairing: frat&icehockey!gojo x reader
content: mdni, idiots in love, oblivious reader, babyâs first kiss + virginity taken by same person (satoru ><), suguru as the wingman, a little angst, mostly fluff + crack !! titjob, a little spitting, p in v, degrading, oral, fingering handjob etc etc 37k+
note: happy belated national arabian horse day! this was meant to come out on the 19th but life got in the way... regardless of the day hit up a friend and start beating a dead horse to celebrate!
Geto Suguru is everyoneâs first crush.
Your friends insist youâre seeing him through some delusional rose-tinted lens and that he is, in fact, not as much of a campus celebrity as you believe him to be. You reject that notion. One look at him from across the room, other party goers be damned, is all it takes to confirm what you already know.
Geto laughs at something one of his friends says, tipping forward slightly as the alcohol softens his movements. You catch the tail ends of his laughter through the thumping bass, the glint of light reflected off his lip piercings when he smiles wide, his hand running through his untied black hair.
It would be as easy as walking up and saying hi to start a conversation. It would be as easy as smiling for him to turn his head and grace you with a smile of his own.
Oh, what you would give to be bathed in his gaze, for that pretty smile to widen at the sight of you. Heâd spot you through the crowd, youâd tuck your hair shyly behind your ear and heâd politely excuse himself from his conversation to walk over to introduce himself to this mysterious beauty from across the room.
Shoko makes a noise like sheâs strangling herself but when you turn to save her, sheâs staring at your face. âDo you have any idea what you look like right now?â
âWhatâs wrong? Did I smudge my liner?â
You pull out your phone to check your makeup using the reflection but between the flashing lights and someoneâs elbow jutting from your peripheral, youâre only eighty percent sure you donât look a mess.
Considering you dragged your roommate out to this party last minute, Shoko sips her drink with commendable patience. âEven if you did, that would be the least of your worries. Look, you really donât have to overthink this. We didnât just spend all night planning this for you to end up weirding him out with that look in your eye.â
âShit, that was the rehearsed deer look I was talking about!"
âRehearsed how?"
You decisively ignore her. âI just want to do this right."
Her eyes soften slightly. Sheâs always been weak to your woes. âYou will. Heâll love you. If you donât believe in yourself, believe in me. I promise you, Iâve known this guy for years and youâre exactly the type of person he just eats up.â
You think of all your attempts to enter Getoâs world. There's just something mystifying about him, some kind of aura he emits that has you tripping over your tongue and freezing at the worst moments. Your words become stilted, your humour and wit abandoned at every crucial moment, causing you to simultaneously dread talking to him as much as you wished for it.
Shoko turns you to face her, eyes steady in a way yours isnât. âAre you ready?"
You let out a slow breath and attempt to mimic her determination with a single nod.
âThen go find him.â
When you hesitate to even take a single step forward, Shoko gives you a push and then youâre off, legs moving without another thought. The crowd swallows you, bodies brushing past and jolting your shoulders, knocking you here and there. But none of that matters. Not when your heart is already set. Not when determination is the one thing keeping you upright, guiding you closer and closer to the boy who somehow makes a packed, sweaty houseparty fade into background noise
For too long, youâve let this intoxicating feeling linger, letting it settle deep in your chest, almost convincing yourself that watching from the sidelines was enough. As if anything short of his eyes on you, perhaps even his lips on yours, could quiet the restless longing twisting in your heart. Limerence is what Shoko diagnoses you with, but the word feels too small for the intensity that surges through you every time his name crosses your mind.
Geto appears like a beacon before you, the crowds having finally parted enough for you to catch a good look. The party music transitions to an angelic choir but admitting that is basically affirming Shokoâs concerns that your infatuation is unhealthy, so you quickly refocus. Your heart clenches, pounds against your ribcage, and you only hope the dim lighting will hide the warmth spreading across your cheeks. Heâs right there, right within reach. All you have to do is say his name.
All you have to do is make him see you.
You take a step forward, mumble an apology to the girl you bumped shoulders with, take another step towards where heâs laughing with a friendâthen veer sharply to the right and slip into the kitchen.
If talking to Geto were really as easy as saying hi, you would have done it months ago.
The kitchen is quieter, the bass reduced to a distant, muffled thump and you can finally breathe as the crowd thins. Thereâs still chatter though significantly more bearable and your eyes fall onto the small cluster of boys within, standing in the near dark.
Your feet instinctively slow but Shokoâs voice in your head tells you that youâve done too much to stop now and with a deep breath, you step beyond the threshold.
One by one, the group takes notice of you, their rambunctious laughter quietening into soft chuckles as heads pop up to look. Itâs not strange for someone to enter the kitchen at a party so the most you get is a head nod in greeting before they return to their conversation.
You reach for a red cup and then for a jug of some mysterious jungle juice.
Unfortunately, the jug sits behind one of the boys. Even worse, it sits behind who youâre really here at the party looking for.
Leaning lazily against the counter and nursing a red solo cup of something strong no doubt, stands Gojo, Getoâs best friend.
If Geto Suguru is everyoneâs first crush (again, a completely objective statement), then Gojo Satoru is everyoneâs first heartbreak.
You can feel the burn of Gojoâs stare as you get close enough to lift the jug and pour, hands trembling slightly. Before you can help yourself, you steal glances from the side of your eye, landing squarely on his shirt specifically at the crude letting that reads âTwo Seaterâ, arrows pointing abashedly toward both his crotch and his face.
You look back up immediately. You donât want to know.
The punch sloshes into your cup, some of it missing due to your shaky hands and you donât notice until a sticky trickle runs over your fingers. You hastily stop pouring and lick at the mess.
Before you can figure out how to announce your presence, thereâs a rush of footsteps and another frat boy appears. Hikari, you think his name was, stands by the kitchen entrance, hair slightly disheveled from his usual style, loud and demanding as heâs always been.
âHey!â he calls, scanning the room. âYou guys need to come see this."
A chorus of half-drunk âwhat?â and âsee what?â answers him like a herd of seagulls.
âIn the living room,â he says. âThere's two people on the floor andââ He stops, glancing over his shoulder like the situation might escape him if he looks away for too long. âJust hurry up!"
His vague words cause curiousity to spread faster than wildfire. The group of boys begin funnelling out of the kitchen, cups still in hand, voices rising with excitement.
âWhat is it?"
âIs it a fight?"
âPlease tell me itâs a fight.â
âDid someone break something?â
Hikari doesnât elaborate, instead turning and leaving the kitchen, confident the herd will follow. One friend, Choso if you remember correctly, looks back at Gojo who remains calmly drinking from his cup, still leaning against the counter beside you.
âArenât you coming, Satoru?â
Gojo shrugs, tipping back the last of his drink. âNah. You go on ahead.â
Choso hesitates like he wants to ask why, then seems to think better of it.
âSuit yourself,â he mutters, already backing toward the door as someone behind him shoves past with a whoop.
Within seconds, the kitchen drains of bodies.
Youâre deathly aware of the warm presence beside you. You inhale deeply and turn, ready to get this over and done with only to find him shamelessly looking at you.
For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other, his expression unreadable as he looks you over before his face splits into a lazy grin. âHey.â
âHi,â you squeak, immediately reprimanding yourself at the awkward sound.
His smile only grows. âI didnât expect to see you here. Are you looking for someone? Or maybe you missed the exit? Itâs down the hall to your right.â
âThatâs rude.â You cross your arms in an attempt to place distance between the two of you and to maintain a confidence you donât feel. âI attend parties.â
Gojo huffs and you feel slightly offended. He straightens and steps closer, close enough that his cologne hits youâsharp, expensive, and entirely too much. âI donât know about that. Iâve never seen you at one of these before.â His head tilts, regarding you. âHow do you even know Sukuna?"
For a moment you blank, wondering why he was asking about Sukuna. It hits you then that this party must be his. âAh. I came with Shoko.â
He hums. âThat makes sense. Shoko always did have a habit of collecting strays."
âExcuse me?â
âNot a stray,â he amends lightly at your glare. âMore like her lost puppy.â
"Just because youâve only ever seen me when Iâm with Shoko doesnât mean Iâm always with Shoko.â
âI was talking more about how you were holding onto her shirt in the crowds earlier. She didnât bring a leash for you?"
âDonât project your weird kinks onto me."
âDo you often spend time thinking about what weird kinks I might be into?â Thankfully, Gojo lets the topic go before you really do decide to throw it all away and walk out. âBut alright, letâs say I believe you and youâre just here for the party. Why are you here in the kitchen, then?â
âWhat else do people come to parties for? Iâm here to drink. And stuff.â You trail off, clearing your throat.
âReally?â He eyes your untouched cup. âBecause thatâs just juice. The good stuffâs over here."
He steps into your personal space to reach over you to grab a bottle from the top of the fridge and youâre face to face with the gross words on his top. He retracts his arm, bottle in hand, but doesnât step back. âWant me to pour you one?â
You think back to the last time you let yourself drink under the unwise judgement of Shoko, and how you can only recall glimpses of light and the vague memory of a toilet bowl âItâs fine, Iâve already had a lot to drink."
âRight,â he says, in a tone that makes it clear he doesnât believe you for a second.
You watch as Gojo pours himself another drink, sipping leisurely, pointedly ignoring the way youâre staring.
Gojo isnât exactly a stranger, but itâs an overestimation to call him your friend. In truth, heâs Shoko's friendâwhich means she occasionally drags him back to your shared dorm before disappearing to do whatever it is best friends do. You catch glimpses of him in passing, fleeting and inconsequential, never quite crossing into âintroduce-yourselfâ territory. Why would he? Heâs the kind of guy who turns heads without trying, long-limbed, effortlessly confident, wearing the grin of someone whoâs never been told no in his life.
Where Geto is soft-spoken and warm, guiding you through conversation with patient smiles and gentle ease, Gojo is loud and vibrant and reckless. There's a challenge in his eyes, a knowing smirk on his lips, like the world is perpetually entertaining and heâs always in on the joke.
You, on the other hand, are about as normal as it gets.
When the silence draws into something a little less casual and far more awkward, you clear your throat. âIâm Y/N by the way."
âI know who you are.â
âYou do?â
âShokoâs roommate, right? Weâve seen each other before. Sheâs mentioned you too.â He offers a hand, eyes holding yours like he knows youâll pull away with anything less. âIâm Gojo. Itâs nice to finally meet you.â
You go to echo his words, that of course you knew he was the Gojo Satoru but hesitate, settling instead for shaking his hand. His grip is warm and solid, carrying none of the jitteriness you feel. Hell, maybe you should have accepted a drink after all. What is this, a job interview? Why are you shaking his hand?
When you let go, you become painfully aware of how damp your palms are and curse yourself silently.
Gojo picks up on the silence and moves to lean against the counter, mimicking your earlier pose such that his arms are crossed over his chest, only emphasising his biceps in his sleeveless top. âSo, Y/N. If you didnât come in here for a drink, why are you here?â
His words cause you to still. This was it. Every moment in your dorm, huddled around the whiteboard usually reserved for studying, now littered with far less academic plans, Shoko chiming in her own thinkpieces occasionally. It all accumulated to this moment.
âI was looking for you actually. I wanted to talk to you.â Your voice is barely a whisper and humiliation slowly sinks in when he doesnât answer immediately. Perhaps he didnât hear you considering youâre speaking to your shoes.
When you finally look up, thereâs an unreadable expression on his face. Gojo slowly tracks his eyes up and down your figure. Finally, he straightens, head tilted slightly. âTalk to me? Alone?"
You nod, and his face breaks into a broad grin.
âI wasnât expecting that. Not that I hate it,â he purrs, voice dropping into something smoother as he steps closer and curls a loose lock of your hair around his finger. âWhat did you want to talk about, princess?"
Your mind vaguely registers the gesture, feeling the dampness of your palms once again. âI donât really want to say here."
His fingers still, your hair wrapped around it. âOh?"
You wonder what that look in his eyes meant. âCould we go upstairs?â
Gojo cocks his head, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His brows knit slightly, but his eyes gleam with amusement as he releases your hair, the strand falling back into place in a soft wave. âYou do know Iâm Shokoâs friend, right? And youâre her best friend?â
âWhy does that matter?â
âSeriously? You donât think itâll be awkward?â
Awkward? You blink, trying to make sense of his words. Perhaps Gojo and Shoko had argued recently. Maybe he didnât want her catching sight of the two of you together else it put you in an awkward position. Heâs more considerate than you expected.
âIt doesnât have anything to do with her,â you say carefully. âWhether you or I are friends with Shokoâit doesnât matter to me. I just want to talk to you.â You smile in satisfaction, relaxing a little at his kindness.
Gojo suddenly laughs, brushing a hand through his hair as he throws his head back like youâve said the funniest thing. When he looks back down at you, his eyes are shining. âThatâs what Iâm saying! But every time I joke about it to Shoko, she goes all crazy on me. Looks like we have a lot in common, huh? I guess that makes us compatible.â
You continue to smile, the corners of your lips wavering a little in uncertainty. Youâre not entirely sure what he means by that but considering youâre about to ask him for a favour, you appreciate his good mood.
âWell, alright,â he says at last, taking your hand. âIâd love to hear you out. Lead the way.â
Ignoring the little flip of nerves your stomach does as you hold his hand (perhaps he felt too drunk to climb the stairs alone?), you turn and lead him back into the living room and up the stairs to the quieter rooms of the house. The hand holding serves another purpose, you realise, as you weave through the crowds of people and he would surely have lost you had you not held on tighter, practically dragging him onward.
You feel a tug before your feet can even touch the second floor, like heâs suddenly become immovable. Before you can turn and check on him, you feel the warmth of his chest against your back, his hand slipping from yours to settle at your waist. Youâre pulled to a stop, his breath now brushing against your ear, his hair tickling the side of your face. Youâre certain heâs leaning over you despite being a step lower, and the faint scent of alcohol and sandalwood fills your senses.
âI didnât think youâd be so proactive,â he murmurs. You think he might have inhaled, slow and deliberate, but itâs hard to tell over the base vibrating through the floorboards and the frantic pounding of your heart. âWhat else are you hiding from me, hm?â
He reaches for your hand and turns you slightly so you can watch as he licks your fingers, tasting the sticky residue of your spilt juice. His blue eyes seem to sparkle, mesmerising in a way that makes you freeze. âYou taste sweet.â
Your breath hitches and he must have heard because the hand on your waist tightens and pulls you against him, head leaning down to gently nip at your neck. Your stomach does that little flip again, this time accompanied with a hot flush that short-circuits your brain.Â
âWait!âÂ
He chuckles softly, lips ghosting over a soft spot that makes your knees tremble a little. âDonât be nervous. You have me right where you want me.â
You freeze, heart hammering, fingers twitching. When his hand slips just barely beneath the hem of your top, the words tumble out of you in a rush.
âI like Geto!â
For a heartbeat, everything goes still, his hand, his lips, his breath. Gojo pauses, lips pulling back from your sweaty neck. In fact, his entire body jerks back, both feet returning to the step beneath you, hand leaving your waist to turn you to face him. His fingers find your chin to tilt your face down, eyes dark as they hold yours.
âWhat did you just say?â
You swallow, looking him in the eye. âI like Geto.â
He stares at you wordlessly for a few more moments before he frowns, letting go of you completely and stepping down one more step just for good measure. âWhat the fuck are you doing here with me then?"
You gesture frantically between yourselves, finding the answer quite simple. âTo talk? Thatâs what I said earlier, didnât I? I wasnâtâI wasnât insinuating⌠I wasnât trying toâyou know?â
âYou said you wanted to come with me upstairs.â
âYeah?â
âAlone.â
âRight.â
His frown only deepens at your easy response. âYou know how that sounds, right? To get a guy alone upstairs at a party?â
âIt sounds like I wanted to talk to you privately?â You try again at his disbelieving expression. âThe music was super loud. I didnât think youâd be able to hear me downstairs and I had to ask you something important so I didnât want to risk it.â
He lets out a huff, something short and breathy, lips quirked upwards like he finds something amusing, even as his eyes stay locked on you, unmoving. âYouâre kidding me, right?â
You hold out your hands as if to say, âWhat can you do?â.
Gojo groans, dragging a hand down his face. âFigures this was too good to be true.â His hand drops from his eyes to cover his mouth as he continues to stare at you. âNothing about that situation implied you just wanted to talk. And about Suguru, of all things? Seriously, heâs being a cockblock and he isnât even here.â
âWhat was that?â
âForget it.â He drops his hand. âIâm leaving.â
You quickly hold onto his arm before he can completely turn. âWait!â
Maybe itâs the desperation in your voice, maybe itâs your iron-clad grip on his bicep but he doesnât attempt to pull away. Instead, he looks back and wrinkles his nose at you, a strangely childish gesture.
âIâm not in the mood to just talk. Not anymore.â
âCome on, please? Thereâs no one else I can ask!â
âI donât see how thatâs my problem.â
âIf you could just please, out of the kindness of your heart, hear me out I would seriously appreciate it!â
He doesnât budge.
âI wonât tell anyone I rejected you!â
He frowns. âFirst of all, you didnât reject me because it was a misunderstanding. Second of all, are you really in a position to blackmail me right now?â
âI wonât tell Shoko you were the reason her favourite candle knocked over and singed a bit of her rug.â
His frown only deepens. Blackmail, you think, is surprisingly effective. âHold on, how do you even know that?â
âWhat do you mean? I was literally right there.â
Gojo lets out a deep, long groan. He wriggles out of your hold, sending you a glare. âYou know, you really suck at asking for help.â
âYou donât have to agree to helping me just yet. Just at least give me a chance to explain. Weâre already here, arenât we?â
âYeah, well, I had other plans when we got up here that didn't involve just talking.â
You remind yourself to be patient. Again, you were the one asking for a favour, heâs the only one that can help you with your dilemma, you need him. Donât call him a disgusting freak and walk away.
Clapping your hands together, you muster your best pleading look and send it his way. âPlease, Gojo.â
Youâre not really sure what broke through his defenses. For your own ego, you decide it must be because of your puppy dog eyes because he lets out a sigh and gives a reluctant nod.
âGo to the room to the right of the stairs.â
You bite back the instinct to cheer. Halfway through turning around, you look over your shoulder. âYouâre coming too, right?â
âJust get up there before I change my mind.â
Wondering if souring his mood like this would backfire on you, you quickly hop up the remaining steps and head to the mentioned room just in case he really does change his mind. It would be beneficial to appease him before you ask for a crazy favour, after all. Therefore, you donât even try to eavesdrop as Gojo continues to mumble to himself as he follows behind, worrying that somehow he might hear and turn around.
When you both reach the room, he closes the door and leans against it, arms crossed over his chest and expression flat in a way that feels very un-Gojo. Youâre suddenly struck by the unfairness of it, of how someone with such a careless, teasing exterior can also appear so unreadable when he wants to.
âFive minutes.â
You clear the irrelevant thoughts from your head. âExcuse me?â
âYou have five minutes before Iâm going back down.â
You take a deep breath. This is it, no backing out now. âOkay. I need your help.â
He huffs, unamused. âSo youâve said. But with what exactly? Calculus? Because spoiler, Iâve been drinking.â
âWith Geto.â
You watch in real time as the connection in his brain is made. He straightens off the door slightly. âWait. Suguru? You want help with Suguru? What kind of help? Love help? You want love help with Suguru?â
Every word from his mouth is like a bullet to your dignity. Through gritted teeth, you hiss, âYes. Can you be any louder?â
âI can try,â He says with a hint of humour. The smirk returns to his face and a feeling of foreboding looms over you. âThis is what you wanted to get me alone to say?â
âLook, I needed someone whoâs close with him and youâreââ
âClose? Please, Iâm his best friend. Iâm practically his wife.â
âOh. So that makes us competition?â
He wrinkles his nose and looks you up and down. âYou want me to help you get him.â
You nod.
âYou want to confess to him.â
âObviously.â
âDate him?â
âThatâs the goal."
âSleep with him?â
You give him a look so incredulous that he laughs, short and amused. âIf you want advice just hit up reddit. If you want him to like you back then an etsy witch has you covered for five dollars. I donât see why you have to bother me.â
âBecause,â you say slowly. âHeâs surrounded by people. He doesnât even know me. I need all of that, the advice, the reciprocation, and I need someone who can get me close enough to him where he can notice me. And I feel like getting an Etsy witch to manipulate his dreams to include me would cost more than five dollars. And Iâm broke. And Iâm kind of bad with guys.â
âSo, what? You want me to introduce you to him?â
âSure. And maybe tell me what he likes?"
Gojo looks you up and down again. He leans back against the door but this time, thereâs something smug and arrogant about his posture, eyes lazy as he takes up as much space as he can. âYouâre not even his type.â
âThatâs fine, Iâm flexible.â
âThatâs something you say at a job interview, not when youâre trying to get a boyfriend.â
âJust shows that I have an adaptable personality.â
âHe just came out of a 2 year relationship,â he shoots back.
âI accept and embrace his past.â
âHe has a habit of leaving his jackets on the arm rest of couches.â
âI have hands, I can put them away.â
âWhereâs your self-respect?â
âWith him. Iâll get it back after I get with him.â
Gojo huffs. âHe doesnât even know you.â
âThatâs why Iâm asking you for help.â
âYou know, I think I liked you better when you were just a shy little thing stumbling over your words.â
Again, you can only shrug.
When he only frowns, you decide to use your hidden ace. Before he can open his mouth and surely reject you, you beat him to it, voice overlapping his.
âIâll tutor you!â
His eyes narrow and when he doesnât say anything else, you push on.
âI know youâre aiming for that sports scholarship to study abroad next year.â
âHow do you even know about that?â He catches on quick with a groan. âShoko.â
You nod. âAnd I know that youâre looking for someone to tutor you because you need to get good grades to get accepted. If you help me with this, I promise I can definitely bring your grades up. We both benefit!â
Gojo stares at you like youâve just grown a second head and you think youâve lost him when his lips twitch. Then, almost traitorously, one corner lifts higher.
âYou,â he says slowly, pointing at you like heâs identifying a rare species, âAre trying to bribe me. Youâre trying to bribe me because you canât get game by yourself.â
âIt's not a bribe,â you say stiffly. âI'm just saying thereâs something in it for the both of us.â
âItâs a bribe,â he repeats, delighted now. âHoly shit, Shoko's roommate is bribing me. How desperate can you get?â
âIâm offering to give you academic support!â
âWith strings attached.â
âYes,â you sigh. "That's usually how deals work.â
He grins, wide and boyish and every bit infuriating as youâve ever known him. âYou think I can't get a tutor without helping you bag my best friend?â
âWell, you havenât yet.â
âThat's because I don't need one.â
âRight. So I should just forget all the times Shoko has ranted to me about how you keep asking her for help?â
âYou know, this conversation has really enlightened me on who my real friends are.â His gaze slides back to you, assessing. âAnd youâre confident you can help me?â
You straighten your shoulders and give a solemn nod. âIâve fixed worse than you.â
He studies you, eyes tracking your features down to your shoes and you fight the urge to squirm self consciously. He seems to be recalibrating you, seeing you not as Shokoâs tagalong but as an actual person making a very earnest, albeit very ridiculous, request.
Finally, he sighs, long and dramatic.
âWell, at least you have one thing going for you. Suguru eats this kind of stuff up, hardworking, stubborn, a little patheticââ
âHey.â
ââin a cute pet way,â he amends smoothly. âRelax.â
You glare at him anyway but the rational part of your brain reminds you that you need this. He grins back, entirely unrepentant.
âFine,â he continues, raising a finger, âIf I do this, weâre doing it my way. That means we need rules.â
You fight the urge to jump up and down in joy. âI was going to suggest that anyway! How about this, weââ
âRule one,â he says, face settling into something serious. âYou canât fall in love with me.â
Unable to help yourself, you burst out laughing. âTrust me, thatâs not going to be an issue. You're definitely not my type.â
At your laugh he smiles though it doesnât reach his eyes. âRule two, no complaining. Keep that mouth in check, sweets.â
You giggle. âWhat's wrong, fragile ego?â
He raises an eyebrow and you mumble irritated curses under your breath. âSorry.â
âRule three, if Suguru ends up falling head over heels for you, you owe me big.â
âHow big?â
His eyes flick down to your mouth again, then back up, smirk slow and dangerous. âIâll decide later.â
You catch the movement and swallow, feeling none of the humour from earlier. âOkay, deal. Then, rule four, you take your studying seriously. I don't tutor people who donât care.â
âI think between the two of us, I want to succeed the most so thatâs a given. Any more rules, sweets?â
When you shake your head, he nods. âWeâll start tomorrow.â
âNot today? I mean heâs literally right here,â You quickly clarify. âNot a complaint, just a question!â
âI came here to get drunk and have a good time. Iâm going to need at least three drinks to get me back there so be a good girl and wait. Iâll text you tomorrow if you really canât be patient. Unless, you want to back out already?â
You straighten your shoulders, trying to match his confidence. âIâm not backing out! I just want to make sure youâre not going to ditch me. This isnât really a normal request.â
âOh, so you know?â
You roll your eyes at him but have the decency to at least look bashful.
âTomorrow,â he repeats then jerks his chin toward the door. âGo on, sweets. Before I sober up and regain some self-respect.â
âDonât call me that.â
âA complaint?â
You bite your lip. âA suggestion.â
âHereâs a real suggestion,â he starts, turning around to open the door. Standing in the doorframe, he gives you one last look. âNext time you ask a guy to go upstairs with you at a party, maybe start with the part about not wanting to make out.â
Your face gets hot instantly, mouth opening to splutter, âI didnât mean anything by it!â
But he doesnât stay to hear the end of it, rejoining the masses downstairs without another word. He lifts his hand once as a goodbye and then heâs gone, leaving you alone in the room, half mortified, half exhilarated. Unwilling to give him any sense of victory with his last words, you head back downstairs and find Shoko to tell her the results of the first step of your plan.
Itâs a struggle pushing through the thick waves of people but you finally find your roommate off to the side, musing herself in a conversation with someone you donât recognise.
Instinctively, your eyes search for Geto if only to recall what youâre doing this for. Standing beside him, arm swung over his shoulder is Gojo, already sipping from a cup and laughing into the conversation with a natural ease that reminds you of the gap between who you were and who he is. As if sensing your gaze, he looks over and you flinch as if burnt. Something stirs in your gut and you wonder if your little plan to get with Geto has taken a slightly unpredictable turn.
âYou okay?â Shoko asks, noticing your fluster.
You nod, looking away quickly. âOf course. All going to plan, you know?â
âThen I guess youâre up to step two.â
âRight,â Your eyes drift back to Gojo and find him looking at you over the rim of his cup. The feeling in your stomach lurches. âStep two.âÂ
Step two begins with Gojo texting you at the ass crack of dawn. You blink the sleep from your eyes, squinting at the bright light of your screen in mild disbelief and annoyance as he tells you to pull up to his 9am lecture. Despite the lingering feeling that youâve bitten off more than you can chew, you understand that this is necessary.
You know for a fact that you have no classes today and therefore no reason to make the trek to university. a whole day,just gone and tasked with the impossible task of putting up with that infuriating player.
No, you reprimand yourself as you text back your agreement. No complaining. Do it for him, do it for Geto. With those words repeating in your head like a mantra, you pull yourself together and out of bed to get to campus.
It would be helpful, after all, to see where his studies were at if you were going to take this tutoring business seriously.
You get a coffee at the station to combat your sleepiness and the chill of a winter morning before hesitating and getting another. With two coffees, one in each hand, you wait outside his lecture room until the doors swing open.
Spotting him wouldnât be too hard, you muse, considering Gojo is impossible to miss.
And then, you see him.
His unmistakable frame, hair a messy white halo catching the late morning sun, strides into view. He's mid conversation as he steps out, animated, half-grinning, and you find yourself understanding why so many girls lose their minds over him.
âGojo!â You call out, voice slightly drowned out by the chatter all around.
Youâre about to give him a piece of your mind, him having been the reason why you kept to your phone all of last night like a wife anticipating the return of her war husband, when you freeze. Because when Gojo turns, your mind barely registering the amused look he gives you, the person he was talking to comes into view.
Because of course, where thereâs Gojo there is Geto, the yin to his yang.
You werenât ready for both of them.
Noticing your sudden stiffness, Gojo looks beside him and scoffs. Unimpressed, he starts walking over. You panic, attempting to smooth out your clothes and fix up your appearance though your hands are full of coffee so you end up doing an awkward wiggle.
âLook at you,â Gojo starts when heâs close enough. âLoitering outside my class like a fan. Maybe this is more urgent than I thought, not because you like Suguru but because you really need your self-respect back.â
You open your mouth to respond, to clarify, to deny, to just say something, but Geto catches up beside him and suddenly every possible word tangles up in your throat.
âOh. Hey,â Geto says, recognition flickering across his face. âYouâre Y/N, right?â
You blink, knees feeling weak and mind in shambles that he even knew your name let alone match it to your face. âUh, yeah! Thatâs me!â
He smiles, soft and easy, all the charm youâve seen him use on others now directed to you. âI thought so. Youâre in one of Shokoâs tutorials, no? I think I remember her mentioning you.â
âIâm her roommate, actually.â You try for a smile and pray it doesnât give off the extent of your adoration towards him.
âRight, that would be it. Iâm Geto.â
You nod mutely, wishing your brain would reboot to say something, anything that doesnât make you sound like youâve never spoken to a human before. Geto, he says, like you didnât already know his name, like he wasnât one of the most known people on campus. Still, the fact that he so humbly introduced himself only proves his humility and your heart gives a quiver.
This moment was everything youâve ever fantasied. His eyes on you, giving you that pretty smile youâve only seen directed at others. You could have stood there and basked in his attention until the end of time if Gojo didnât suddenly clap Getoâs shoulder and butt in.
âGreat, so glad youâre both acquainted,â he says, ignoring your glare and throwing an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his side. âBut as much as Iâd love to keep standing here and soak in this riveting small talk, I think my very dedicated super fan here needs me for something.â
You shoot him a look. âI am not your super fan.â
âNo? And is that not my coffee?â
You look down at your hands as if only remembering now what you were holding. Biting back a remark, you thrust out a coffee. âIt is.â
He grins, taking it and letting his fingers brush against yours. âThought so.â
Geto looks between the two of you. âOh, I see how it is."
Your eyes fling back to him at the same time Gojo exclaims, âWhat?â
âWoah, did I touch a nerve there or something?â Getoâs smile quickly turns smug. He returns Gojoâs earlier gesture and thumps him hard on the back twice. âI get it. Iâll get out of your hair then. Be gentle with him, Y/N. Heâs actually a pretty sensitive guy.â
It takes you a while to process his words so Gojo reacts first.
âDude, Iâm telling you itâs not like that.â
âSure,â Geto says in a tone that very much suggests he isnât convinced at all. âGuess Iâll see you around, yeah? Later, Satoru.â
You only realise seconds after he leaves that you hadnât said goodbye. In fact, after Gojoâs interruption, you hadnât managed to say anything more to Geto.
âHuh,â Gojo muses, breaking the silence. âYou get like that around him?â
You groan and find the lump in your throat gone. âI stood there like an idiot!â
âYou did.â
âHe probably thinks Iâm a freak!â
âProbably.â
âAnd you!â You look up to glare at him. âYou didnât have to make it sound so weird!â
âSo now itâs suddenly my fault?â
âYou caught me off guard by calling me your super fan!â
âRight, like that was the weirdest part of the conversation,â he shoots back, lips curled in dry amusement. âThat, and not the super sour face you were making at him. Like a grimace.â He mimics your expression and you properly grimace this time, hoping against all odds that that was not the face you had been making at the person you were actually a super fan for.
Deciding you will only lose if you continue to defend yourself, you choose to change the subject. âYou should have told me heâd be here.â
âYou never asked. Besides, is it my fault if you didnât prepare for that to happen?â
You sulkingly mumble a yes and he wags his finger at you, tutting disapprovingly.
âNo complaining, remember? Come on, letâs go. We have things to talk about.â
You sigh though relent to fall into step beside him, fingers curling around your own coffee as the crowd thins around you. Now that Geto is gone, the world feels marginally more comfortable, less bright, less sharp, but also less mortifying.
You remember your stuttering self a few minutes ago.
Still a little mortifying but now bearable.
Gojo takes a long sip of his coffee, then glances sideways at you over the rim. âFor future reference, I don't like coffee.â
You dig your elbow into his side and he winces but doesnât remove his arm around your shoulder.
âWhere are we going? I was thinking we could go to the library and look over your courses. That way I can pinpoint your weakness and where to target first. We only have a few months into graduation so weâre in a bit of a time crunch but I'm positive I can raise your grades from whatever they may be to⌠what?â
You trail off when you find Gojo looking down at you in disbelief. He shrugs when your eyes meet and shrugs, though the gesture is a little awkward with his arm over your shoulders.
âI just didnât think you were serious about the whole tutoring thing.â
âI keep to my promises, Gojo,â you pause. âAnd I hope you will too.â
He reaches over with his free hand to ruffle your hair, ignoring your squeak. âDesperation isnât a good look on you, sweets. Relax, relax, I'll get you two together. Trust me.â
You grumble but donât voice your suspicions, instead letting him drag you in a certain direction. You perk up when you donât immediately recognise your surroundings.
âWhere are we going?â
âI get it, you want to check me out. I'm just taking us somewhere where that can happen.â
âYour studies, not you,â you clarify.
âYeah, and my studies are mine so youâre checking me out.â
You grimace and he chuckles, turning you around a corner. âThe library is too quiet so weâre going back to my place.â
You stop abruptly.
âYour place?â
âYeah.â
âYour place?â
Gojo cocks his head as if listening to something in the distance. âDid you just hear that echo too?â
âForgetting the fact that we should clearly just go to the library or somewhere on campus at least, I thought you lived in Sig Kap?â
âRight you are. Wow, I'm really starting to see why youâre the perfect choice as a tutor.â
âBut you just said weâre going to your place.â
âNothing gets past you.â
âYour place as in the Sig Kap house.â
âLook at you go.â
You stare at his side profile, waiting for a punchline that wonât come.
âGojo.â
âYeah?â
âI am not going to your frat house.â
âWhat happened to not complaining? That was the first rule and youâre already breaking it, sweets. I'm starting to dread this whole arrangement,â he continues to tease, looking ever so peaceful.
âI'm sorry, I don't know what you think I'm about but I wouldn't willingly walk into a den full of men named things like Chad. Do you even have furniture?â
âI only had a cot for the majority of first year but now I've upgraded to a mattress on the floor.â
âGreat. Let's end this here.â
Gojo hooks his finger in your belt hoop before you can walk away. âFirst of all, we donât have a Chad. We do have a Kyle though.â
âYou're not doing yourself any favours.â
âSecond,â he continues on, pulling you back towards him with his finger. âItâs ten in the morning. Half of them are in class and the other half are probably legally dead.â
You stand your ground. âLibrary.â
âSig Kap.â
âLibrary.â
âSig Kap.â
âGojo.â
He leans in suddenly, close enough that you can see the faint crease at the corner of his eyes from squinting in the sun.
âYou want Suguru, right?â
Your breath catches and despite yourself, you hear him out. âSo? How is that relevant?â
âBecause,â he says mildly like heâs talking to a little kid. âSig Kap is where Suguru hangs out. He's my best friend, you know heâs my best friend thatâs why you came to me. Why wouldnât he be over at mine all the time? If you canât handle coming over now how are you ever going to fuck him?â
âI am notââ you choke, voice pitching before forcefully lowering your voice when you notice people looking at you. âThat is notâ I haven't evenââ
Gojo hums, watching you with a victorious grin. âSo you donât want to sleep with him?â
You make a startled noise and start walking in a random direction, eager to leave him behind. Life, however, is full of disappointments considering he follows, his arm draping over your shoulder once more.
âSo where are we going?â
You give in. âSig Kap.â
âWrong way, sweets.â
You groan but follow as he steers you in the opposite direction.
Gojo chatters in your ear the entire walk to where the frat houses are situated on campus, about how his least favourite professor is out to get him, about someone in his frat who set off the fire alarm this morning, about the latest philosophical debate holding the frat hostage: whether cereal is a soup or not. It's a steady stream of nonsense, ridiculous but unbroken because at least he wasnât talking to you so much as at you.
At some point, you stop responding entirely.
Somehow, his mere presence is enough to change your opinion and you actually feel relief when you finally see the house before you. Sig Kap stands broad and sunlit, paint only mildly chipped, windows open to let in the winter air. There's a couple bikes leaning against the porch railing and thereâs an abandoned hoodie on the outdoor chairs.
âOh thank god,â you mumble under your breath when he finally stops talking.
He lets you go to jog up the steps, opening the door to what youâre positive is about to be an overstimulating nightmare.
Warm air hits you first, carrying the scene of coffee and something oily. Sunlight stretches across worn hardboard floors until Gojo closes the door behind you and the hallway dims. A TV murmurs somewhere deeper into the house and thereâs a loud conversation happening upstairs.
âYou said everyone would be either in class or dead!â you hiss.
âIt was an exaggeration,â he says lightly. "Don't worry, everyoneâs harmless. But if youâre worried, you can just stick close to me.â
You ignore his cocky grin and shove him to get him walking. Unfortunately, getting to the stairs meant walking past the living room and you know things wonât be as harmless as he says when a voice calls out.
âYo!â
Gojo pauses and steps back to poke his head into the living room. âMorning.â
You awkwardly step back to let him, pushing you into view too.
Two heads snap toward you at once. One of them is sprawled across the couch, blanket half-tangled around his legs and a bowl of popcorn balances on his stomach. The other is slouched in an armchair, controller in hand, eyes bloodshot and face pale as if he was still hungover. Considering the state of the party last night, you donât doubt that he might be. Speaking of the party, you recognise the one on the left as Hikari.
âYouâre bringing a girl back in broad daylight?â The controller guy says, no tact whatsoever.
Hikari snaps his fingers in recognition. âHey, youâre the girl at the party.â
âDamn, back for more?â
Hikari shoves controller guyâs head down at the crude comment.
âShe's here to save my GPA,â Gojo explains. âSo keep it down, yeah?â
âThat's what we should be saying to you,â controller guy smirks.
Unfortunately, Gojo smirks back. âYou know they canât help it. I'm just too good.â
He guides you back towards the stairs as the boys in the living room chuckle, and when you finally think of something to say youâre already standing in the middle of his room. By then, thereâs another something to take up your mind and computing power.
Despite the relatively large floor plan, Gojo has decided to use none of it. True to his words, thereâs a mattress lying on the floor against one wall, blanket a mess and a single pillow sitting flat at the top. A stack of old textbooks make up a bedside table where thereâs a cute small lamp. On the other side sits a couch and a giant flat screen in front of it at a distance that would make optometrists frown.
Maybe thatâs why Gojo is sometimes seen wearing sunglasses indoors. Maybe theyâre prescription.
âThis is what you bring girls back to?â
Gojo drops his bag on the floor and flops down onto the couch, patting the cushion beside him. âCome sit.â
You eye the seat in disdain.
âWhat's with the look?â
âIs that even sanitary?â
He snorts. âWorried youâll get cooties or something? Relax, I rarely bring anyone back. Usually I go to the girlsâ place for that kind of stuff. Fucking on a mattress is pretty harsh on the back, you know. Youâre the first girl I've brought back in a while. Lucky you, right?â
You grimace but sit down gingerly. âCan you tell me what courses youâre doing?â
âWhat's the rush? Let's get to know each other better,â he says but he still reaches over to grab his laptop from his bag, opening it on his lap.
You can picture it so clearly, Gojo coming back from a long day of (skipping) classes to do his assignments and homework like this, slumped over his laptop on this surprisingly comfortable couch. The bare mattress on the floor might be a big contributing factor to his back pain, but you have no doubts that this routine wasnât doing him any favours. âHere,â he places his laptop on your knees and leans back, pulling out his phone from his pocket. âYou look.â
Considering his complete disregard of safety is not your issue, you donât protest and quickly type in the college website. As if sensing this is not the right time, a prompt pops up to log in again.
âPassword?â you ask, tilting the screen to him.
He barely looks up from his phone, one arm behind his head, the other typing away. âSixeyes69 question mark exclamation mark.â
You pause and type it in. It goes through.
âWhat's the number?â He asks, disinterested.
You look on the screen. â67.â
He chuckles. âNice.â
âAre you seriously okay with telling me your password like that?â
He shrugs, screenshotting the multi authenticator screen before hitting enter. The website in front of you loads and opens to his details.
âTtâs not like thereâs anything you can do with that. Are you planning to sneak in and do my assignments for me?â
Finding no fault in his words, you accept it and click through the tabs. Your brows quickly knit together as you read the contents.
âGojo.â
âMhm?â
âYouâre missing three assignments in this class, you have a midterm for another in two weeks and youâre barely passing first year statistics.â
Gojo looks up at the ceiling in deep concentration before looking down with a smile. âYeah, that sounds about right, why?â
âThis is insane! I'm not a miracle worker!â
âBetter find a lamp that grants wishes soon because your love life is on the line,â he points out. âThat was the deal, you find a way to get me into that scholarship and I get you and my best friend together. It's not my fault you were weirdly confident and didnât check to see where I was at before proposing that.â
Flabberghasted, you can only open and close your mouth like a fish. âLook, the midterm in two weeks, I can probably help with. The three assignments? You failing statistics?â
âPretty sure I passed that last quiz. Maybe check again?â
â51 is just barely passing which is basically a fail.â
âOh no, it seems like you canât do this after all. Looks like the deal is over. Hey, by the way, since youâre already here, why don't weââ Gojo sits up and leans in, one hand on your thigh above his laptop.
âI demand another favour.â
He freezes. âYou canât just do that.â
âI can,â you square your shoulders and meet his eyes. âI did this statistics class during my first year so I still have my notes. I can easily alter them and give them to you and if you have any questions, we can meet up and I'll go through the questions with you. There's no way you can submit two of the three missed assessments as late but I can help you write the one that was due last week. There will be a mark reduction but I'll make sure itâs as good as can be. And, like I said, studying for the midterm is possible in two weeks.â
Gojo stares at you as if seeing you for the first time. When he finally moves, itâs only to remove his hand from your knee and slump back into his leather couch. âYouâre insane.â
You wonder if heâs sulking.
âBut,â you continue on. âIf I help you with this then I can add to my condition. Besides, I made it too vague earlier and youâve helped me see that. So thank you.â
He rolls his eyes. âJust tell me.â
You bite your lip. âGo on a practice date with me.â
He blinks at you, giving you that same incredulous look before bursting into a fit of laughter that does wonders for your ego.
âHey.â
He keeps laughing, one hand resting on his chest.
âHey!â You hit his arm and he finally cracks an eye open to look at you.
âYouâre kidding,â he chuckles, struggling to catch his breath. âGojo Satoru doesnât do dates.â
âDon't refer to yourself in third person.â You smack his bicep one more time for good measure and because heâs weirdly solid under your touch. âIt wonât actually be a date. I just need to know how dates work. I can't just go from zero to not-zero without practice!â
His laughter trails off though the smile remains on his face. He tilts his head to the side. âYouâre at zero?â
You freeze, feeling like youâve walked into a trap.
âDefine zero.â
âHave you kissed anyone?â
You look away. âDefine kissed.â
He laughs again, though mercifully shorter. âThat's crazy. Next thing you know, youâre going to ask me to teach you how toââ
âPlease!â you say quickly. âIt won't be anything serious. I just need to know the mechanics, you know, how dates actually work. What youâre supposed to say, how you sit, when you pay, whether eye contact should be continuous or intermittentââ
âJesus,â he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. âYouâre actually a lost cause.â
âWell I've never done one before!â You clamp your mouth shut after, mortified at how loud you just got.
Gojo watches you for a long moment, the amusement still there though dimmed now by something closer to curiousity. Maybe even concern if you squint.
Silence stretches between you, warm sunlight pooling across the floor, distant house noise muffled beyond the door. He looks down at his laptop on your lap then back up to your face.
â...okay.â
Your heart stumbles and you inhale sharply. âOkay?â
âIâll do it.â
âReally?â Relief overwhelms your system and your shoulders relax.
âGojo Satoru doesnât go back on his promises.â He straightens and places a hand over his heart, a mock solemn expression on his face. Before you can poke fun of his use of third person again, he continues. âBesides, I need to figure out where you stand. Let's go on a date tomorrow.â
âEager much?â
He shrugs. âRip the bandaid off. Besides, I have no other time this week, I have practice all of this week for the upcoming game.â
Though you were ready to disagree, you find yourself nodding. âOkay, tomorrow.â
âIt's a date,â he says sweetly before clapping his hands together once loudly. âSo, does that mean I'm off the hook for today? Steam is having this massive sale and I have money to spend.â
You snort. âWhat makes you think youâre free to go?â
âYou got what you wanted,â he points out reasonably. âPractice date secured so mission accomplished, right? Seems like a natural stopping point and the Steam store is calling me.â
He reaches lazily toward the laptop. You smack his hand away without hesitation.
âWell hang up because youâre failing statistics and the submission box for that technical report is waiting for you. I'm afraid youâre going to have to reschedule.â
âYou're kidding. I dragged you here and gave you nothing to prepare with, thereâs no way you'll have anything to tutor me with.â
You stretch out your arms, fingers interlaced, and listen to the satisfying pop of your joints. âWatch me.â
Night has long since settled by the time you return to your dorm. Despite his perennial sulking throughout the entire tutoring session, lips jutted out when he isnât whining, eyes drifting from the screen when youâre not giving him your full attention, he still offers to walk you back to the opposite side of the campus where the dorm houses are. Guiding him through the writing assignment was somewhat akin to extracting teeth from a little kid, but heâs surprisingly quiet when youâre talking and only chooses to complain when youâve stopped.
And by the end of it, youâre proud to announce that he has 500 words on a once empty doc that was almost ready for submission.
Hey, you did mention before that you canât create miracles.
Still, thereâs something bright in his eyes when he reads through his own work, mumbling the words under his breath. So then, when you had reached down to pick up your tote bag and call it a day, heâs on his feet almost instantly, laptop snapping shut as he follows.âIâll walk you,â he says, like itâs not even a suggestion.
The campus at night feels different, all those late nights in the library had taught you that. Itâs quieter, softened at the edges and maybe it's placebo, maybe it isnât, but the air feels fresher and time seems to slow. Streetlamps cast warm pools of light along the pathways, the winter air crisp enough to bite at your cheeks. Your breath fogs slightly as you walk, footsteps echoing in companionable rhythm.
For once, Gojo isnât talking.
He makes the occasional comment, something about how dead campus feels after dark, how he hates early morning practices, how someone keeps taking his chocolate milk from the fridge, but for some reason you donât find it so tolerable. Maybe itâs the way heâs saying it, slower and calm, nothing like before.
You steal a glance at him.
His hands are shoved into his jacket pockets, shoulders relaxed, expression softer than youâre used to seeing. Without the performative grin and constant chatter he looks less like the campus celebrity Everyone knows and more like heâs just some guy. Albeit, very attractive but you digress.Â
âYou didnât have to walk me,â you say into the silence that he hadnât immediately rushed to fill after his last anecdote.
âI know.â
âThen why are you?â
He shrugs. âJust felt weird not to. Besides, itâs late out and your dorm is half a century away. I need you alive to fix my grades, remember?â
You give him a faint chuckle and look forward again.
A few more steps pass in silence, broken only by the shuffle of feet.
âHey,â he says suddenly.
You look up, watching the light scatter over his side profile.
âThanks.â
âFor what?â
âFor today.â He kicks at a pebble on the path, watching as it skitters ahead. âFor not giving up on me after the first five minutes.â
You huff softly. âI said I'd help. And Y/N never goes back on her promises.â
He looks over at you and you both share a smile before his expression turns thoughtful. âYeah, but people say stuff all the time.â
You study him. âDo they?â
He hums and doesnât elaborate.
The dorm building comes into view ahead, lights glowing warmly through the windows. There's still a couple students drifting in and out, bundled in hoodies and coats and wearing slides, soft laughter spilling into the night.
You slow, suddenly aware that the walk is almost over. You turn to him so you can look at each other.
âYou know, youâre not as hopeless as you think,â you say quietly. âI think youâve just never pushed yourself to seriously try.â
He snorts. âThanks, real inspirational.â
âIâm serious,â you protest but the corners of your lips quirk up.
He looks at you then, properly looks, eyes searching your face with a small frown. When he canât find whatever heâs looking for, his brows relax.
âYou really think I can pass?â
âYes.â
Something in his shoulders loosens, tension easing away.
âOkay,â he breathes out. âThen, my grades are in your hands, teacher.â
You make a face. âI think I prefer sweets.â
He laughs and you turn to walk up to the entrance. The automatic doors remain stubbornly closed until you step into the sensorâs range, humming softly as they slide open. Warm air spills out, smelling faintly of old carpet and air freshener.
For some reason your feet slow.
âHey, Y/N.â
You turn, looking at him as he stands just outside the warm lobby light, hands in his pocket, shoulders slightly hunched against the cold.
âYeah?â
He hesitates.
âSee you tomorrow."
You bite your lip and nod, repeating his words softly. Then, before you can do something stupid, you turn and walk into the building. The doors close with a soft thud, sealing you inside.
Through the glass, you watch him turn and head down the path, white hair catching the glow of the streetlights. And of course, he doesnât look back.
Your reflection stares back at you instead, cheeks flushed from the cold, eyes a little too bright, heart still beating faster than it should.
Tomorrow, apparently, youâre going on a date, practice or not.
For some reason, Geto pops up in your mind and you tighten your hold on your tote bag, making your way up the stairs. The soft curve of his smile earlier this morning, the way he had said your name like it belonged in his mouth, or maybe that was just wistful thinking. But the warmth in his eyes that had nearly short-circuited your brain was most definitely real and you cling to the image.
Right, this is for him.
Your phone buzzes a little after you settle into bed that night, making you jolt. you roll onto your side and reach for your phone, pulling it free from your charger as you read through your notifications.
gojo: i made it back safe in case you were wondering ><
You get comfortable, tucking your doona under your chin as you type back, your phone the only light source in your dark room.
you: trust i wasnât worried but thanks ig
gojo: who said anything about being worried?
also donât flake on me tomorrow
iâm taking this mentorship very seriously so u better asw you: i wonât flake ik iâm already asking sm of u
gojo: oh u know do u?
so ure going to pay for our date tmrw?
you: itâs not a date
gojo: sure it isnât
you: itâs just practice
gojo: i didnât say it wasnât
but if you admitted it was a real date iâd pay yk
you: please
like iâd actually want you to pay for my coffee
not a date, not real, donât need u to pay for my drinks
gojo: ure a hard girl to please
you: if its from someone like you, its gonna be harder than just hard
try impossible
gojo: harder than hard?
you: ?
gojo: something feels wrong about that sentence for some reason
anyway
is the campus close for you or should we meet up in the city
you: the campus works for me
gojo: ure not just saying that to avoid the date allegations are you
you: no way
gojo: sure sweets i believe u
donât wear anything boring
first impressions matter yk
you: oh my god stop pushing the date allegations
its just practice !!!!
gojo: okay and you can practice dressing up for me
for suguru
like for practice
you: ?
i know what u meant
but sure
as long as u do too theres no way im embarrassing myself by showing up overdressed if u show up in sweats and a hoodie
gojo: wouldnât dream of it
see u saturday sweets
You stare at the nickname longer than you should.
Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before moving.
you: goodnight gojo
The reply bubble appears then disappears before appearing again. Nothing comes of it as it disappears one more time and stays gone.
You swipe off the app and place your phone back on your bedside table, ignoring the pleasant buzz running through you.Â
You show up early like a super fan.
Youâve been sitting at the little corner table situated at the back of your favourite campus cafe for the past ten minutes now, stirring your drink just to look busy. The cafe hums around you with soft chatter, clinking spoons against teacups and ceramic against ceramic, a mellow playlist faintly playing in the background, but your nerves drown most of it out.
Youâve already gone through three mental checklists as you sit there, waiting. Your fingers curl around your empty cup, feeling the beads of water drip down your fingers and you really hope you wonât need to make an awkward break for the bathroom anytime soon considering he should be here about now.
You tell yourself youâre not nervous but you catch yourself glancing at the door every other second, heart jumping each time it swings open.
The bell chimes again and you look up with a start, eyes immediately locking onto Gojo as he saunters in, lifting his sunglasses so they rest on his head. Heâs dressed casually, a white and blue jersey over a pair of blue baggy jeans, but his good looks mold the outfit into something appropriate for a date.
Gojo spots you at his first look around and grins, sliding into the seat across.
âMorning,â he greets, a wide smile on his face. His eyes flicker down once at your empty cup. âDid you wait long?â
âNo, not at all!â You remember who youâre talking to and relax a little. âActually, I got here fifteen minutes early. I guess I got a little anxious.â
âWell, you donât need to be. You look nice,â he says, tone light. His eyes look you over once to make his words comprehensible and then one more time purely for the love of the game. âTrying to impress me?â
You scoff, trying to recover. âYou told me to dress nice.â
âCâmon, sweets. Play along. Weâre on a date, you know. Your next lines should be something like,â he suddenly tucks his elbow in, body curving to the side slightly, hand half closed and held delicately over his lips and chin. His eyelashes flutter over his cheek as he looks down and to the side, a faux shyness that makes you want to laugh. ââThank you, you look good tooâ.â
You let yourself laugh, shoulders relaxing. âWhat the fuck?â
âYou give it a try. It always works in anime.â
âNo way in hell,â you continue, laughing fading into occasional giggles as his gesture replays in your mind. âBesides, this is a practice date. I'll save that technique for the real deal, thank you very much.â
âAnd for practice, weâre going to pretend this is a real date.â He leans back into his seat, legs stretching out and bracketing yours under the table. His feet bump against yours lightly. âLet's give it another try. Did I make you wait long?â
You stir the straw inside your drink, pretending to be nonchalant, though your fingers twitch slightly against the glass. âNot long⌠I guess.â You try a mysterious act, hearing that guys like a woman with secrets. At least, thatâs what Shoko told you though a small part of you wonders if you should be taking âhow to seduce a guy 101â from a lesbian.
ââI guessâ?â he echoes, tilting his head. âThatâs the best you can do? Youâre supposed to be charming me, remember? At least try to make it look like I'm not coercing you here.â
âI donât care if I charm you or not,â you say quickly, cheeks warming. âIâm here to learn and youâre here to teach me.â
He laughs, a low, easy sound that makes your chest tighten. âYou know, I'm not exactly made of time. Do you know how many girls and guys would kill to be in your position right now?â
You resist the urge to roll your eyes though donât stop yourself from making your voice dry. âOh sure, letâs spend this entire date talking about all the competition I have.â
âWe would need at least four more dates to cover it all.â
âI didnât know getting into a relationship with you would be such an investment.â You snort. âIf all five of our dates are just going to be you listing my competition, I'd rather stand you up now and save myself the time. And the money.â
âI did offer to pay for your drinks.â He grins at the back and forth, the sides of his shoes bumping into your ankles lightly. âThatâs it, youâre getting into it.â
âFor practice.â
âSure, sweets. Practice. Speaking of,â he says, leaning forward just enough that the sunlight catches his hair. âYou should call me Satoru. Weâre on a date, remember? I canât tell if youâre on a date with me or my dad if you call me Gojo.â
You grimace. âCalling you by your first name makes it too real.â
âIt is real. Thatâs what you should tell yourself to get into this.â He juts out his lower lip, drawing his eyebrows inward. âCome on, sweets, let me hear you say my name.â
âWhen you say it like that, it makes me want to throw a drink in your face.â
âJust once, Y/N.â
You huff and roll your eyes. âSatoru.â
âOh my god, a girl called me by my first name!â he squeals.
You almost stand to get out of here if it means preventing people from associating you with him. He grabs your hand and drags you back down into your seat before you can properly escape, much to your dismay. âRelax, Iâm just playing.â
âAre you here to mess around or help me?â
âWell, you need to tell me so I can help you. What do you even know about him?â
âAbout Geto?â
âYeah, unless thereâs someone else you want to know more about?â He grins, easy and confident.
You ignore his comment. âWell, I know he⌠likes books. music. He's kind⌠thoughtful. Plays the guitar. Ah, specifically electric."
âAre you listing off whatâs on his dating profile right now?â
âShut up,â you snap, but it comes out weaker than intended.
âHe isnât actively on any dating app right now, just for your information.â
âAnd how would you know this? What are you doing on there?â
âIâm not on hinge, unfortunate for the female population, I know. We just tell each other everything,â he says, leaning back, one elbow resting on the armrest of his chair as he studies you from across the table. âIâm helping you, you know? First rule, donât just parrot his interests. Though maybe I don't have to worry about that since youâre clearly struggling to even remember them.â
âI wasnât going to parrot him.â
âI know you were,â he interrupts, wagging a finger. âLast time I checked, liking exactly what he likes does not make you compatible. It makes you predictable. And desperate.â
âOkay, harsh.â
âIt's all tough love, sweets.â
You fold your arms, slumping back in your seat, letting gravity do half the work of your sulk. âFine then, oh wise love guru. What should i say instead? Like, letâs say he asks me what I'm into and my mind goes blank like last time. What then?â
âYou're asking like itâs that difficult. Just be honest, tell him what you like regardless if it matches his interests. Do you want to be a groupie or be something more than a friend?â
âI want to be someone he likes.â
âSo you're going to play the role of Suguruâs perfect girlfriend? And what after that, genius? Are you just going to pretend forever?â
Gojo looks over to the front counter and smiles at some waitresses standing there already looking in his direction. He turns back as they start giggling and playfully arguing over who should come over to take his order.
âDonât force yourself to perform for him or curate yourself to be digestible. If the two of you are meant to be then he should want you.â
You look away, picking at nothing on your glass. âThat's easy for you to say.â
âIt's actually incredibly tiring being this emotionally intelligent all the time,â he says, face neutral.
You snort despite yourself and he looks satisfied.
âAnd what if I tell him and he doesnât like it?â
Gojo shrugs, slow and deliberate. âThen heâs not for you.â
You frown. âWow, youâre terrible at pep talks.â
One of the waitresses finally makes it to your table, an eager smile on her face and a determined look in her eyes. Behind her, you catch the rest of the staff shooting encouraging looks. She clutches her notepad a little too tightly, taking in a deep breath before talking. âHello, are you, um, both ready to order?â
âYeah,â Gojo says easily, flashing her a smile. âIâll just grab a hazelnut toffee latte with soy milk.â
The woman quickly scribbles his order down. âOf course! One hazelnut toffee latte with soy milk.â
âAnd whatever she wants,â he adds, nodding toward you.
You blink, caught off guard. âOh, I already ordered earlier. I'm fine for now, thanks.â
The waitress spares you a glance, eyes flickering briefly over you before returning to Gojo like a magnet snapping back into place. âNot a problem. Is there anything else I can get you started with today?â
âWe're good, thank you.â
Her face falls. She nods, but lingers a moment too long, clearly hoping for something, another question, a joke, anything to keep the interaction going.
Gojoâs grin grows just a little bit wider as he obliges.
âBusy today?â He asks casually, tone warm and interested.
Her face lights up and she quickly steps forward again. âA little! It's usually busy in the mornings what with the morning rush and all. Honestly, itâs like nonstop until at least 1pm.â
âThatâs brutal,â he sympathises, leaning back in his chair, posture loose and open. âAt least youâve got good coffee to survive on.â
She laughs, a bright and breathy sound that makes it clear sheâs not just laughing at the coffee comment alone. âPerks of the job, I suppose. Do you come here often?â
Gojo tilts his head as if the question deserved genuine thought and wasnât just a throwaway pick up line.
âNot as often as I should,â he decides easily. âBut I might start if the service is this friendly.â
Her smile widens, pink creeping into her cheeks. âWe try our best.â
âI was talking about you, sweetheart.â
Youâve been listening and watching with apt attention, taking mental notes on the right time to smile, when to tilt your head just so, when to tuck your hair behind your ears and when to employ the double tuck, when his last words make you frown.
You clear your throat, eyes fluttering away when both Gojo and waitress look over at you.
âWell,â the waitress starts suddenly, glancing down at her notepad like she needs to remind herself sheâs on the clock, "I'll bring your drink out as soon as itâs ready.â
âLooking forward to it,â Gojo replies, though he hasnât looked away from you yet.
She lingers half a beat longer, then turns and walks away, shoulders a little straighter than before.
âDone staring?â He teases.
âI was not staring. Don't you have the tact to not flirt with someone else when youâre on a date?â
âOh, so now itâs a date? Only when itâs convenient for you, huh?â
You reach over for a napkin and crumble it up to throw it at him. It barely makes it halfway across the table before it starts fluttering down.
âItâs only manners,â you insist, cheeks warm. âI didn't know what to do when the two of you were talking.â
He snorts. âYou couldâve joined the conversation.â
âAnd said what? "Hello, I'm also present and this jerkâs date for the day?â
âHey, I like the sound of that,â he muses.
Your next crumpled up napkin doesnât get any further than its predecessor. You glare at him, something about that conversation rubbing you the wrong way, echoing unpleasantly in your head in a way that makes you want to peel your skin off.
You clear your throat again.
âYou're here to teach me like I taught you statistics, right? Even though one is clearly harder than the other.â
âRight. Getting you to date ready is much more difficult.â
You ignore him to save the life of one napkin. âSo, how do I do that? Flirt so effortlessly and not make it cringe?â
âYou want to use what I just said with the waitress on Suguru?â He actually laughs out loud. âDo not, heâs going to see right through you. You should have met his last ex. The two of them were absolutely disgusting andâ oh wait, should I not talk about that?â
âYeah, letâs not.â
He hums and changes the subject. âAnyway, just let it happen. Be natural. You talk to me just fine.â
âYeah, but youâre you. frivolous, class clown, never takes anything seriously, probably never commits to anything,â you start listing, counting them on your fingers.
âI feel like the first thing and the last thing mean the same thing. Put one finger down.â
You refuse, still holding up four fingers. âSleeps on a mattress on the ground.â
âSo does half of Sig Kap. But relax, I get it. So you suck at flirting. Shouldnât you be happy I gave you a live demonstration of how itâs done?â
That gets you frowning again.
âDo you always call everyone something?â
âWhat does that even mean?â
âYou called her sweetheart.â
âI don't know her name. I wasn't about to call her âwomanâ, that sounds very sexist and I'm a feminist at heart. Thoughts on banning periods?â
âShe has a name tag.â
âI donât look at that area on a woman on the first date,â he pledges.
You continue without thinking.âHow is anyone supposed to know when you actually mean it when you give everyone similar nicknames?â
He goes quiet, eyes narrowing slightly. âWhat?â
Before you can elaborate, or maybe divert and make him look away so you can dig yourself out of the hole you just created, the waitress returns with his drink. She leans over him, placing it down carefully.
âHere you go!â
âThanks,â he says, polite but no longer quite as engaged. In fact, he hasnât looked away from you, still giving you that same disbelieving look.
You fiddle with your own drink. Maybe you should have ordered something else if it meant spicing up the number of objects you have in your possession to pass awkward silence with.
The waitress lingers a moment before hesitantly leaving when itâs clear thereâs no encore performance.
âI just meant itâs confusing for anyone, hypothetically,â you say in a rush, beating him. âAnyway! Flirting techniques, letâs talk about them!â
He watches you for a moment longer before dropping his head and ruffling his hair. You grimace, eyeing how close his head is to his open drink. When he looks back up, whatever conflict on his face has disappeared.
âFine, okay. Let's talk. First of all, itâs important where the date takes place. There's unspoken etiquette for every typical date location.â
âLike how you go on a coffee date, you shouldnât flirt with the waitress.â
Gojo cracks a grin. âYouâre getting it. Look, Suguru is kind of an artsy guy. He'd probably take you to an art museum or like a jazz bar for your first date.â
You narrow your eyes. âHow do you know that?â
âI told you, he tells me everything. Focus.â He dismisses your look. âHeâs kind of an enjoy-the-moment kind of guy. Probably wonât talk too much while youâre both admiring something together and saves all the talking until after when he leads you to some underground totally underrated dinner spot.â
You wince. âShit. I kind of like making little jokes in the moment.â
He snaps his fingers, face brightening. âRight? Like when youâre watching a movie in the cinemas!â
âOkay, that is a bit tricky. It depends.â
âDon't Genshin theorycraft me.â
âYou're lucky I got that reference.â
Gojo shrugs. âWell, Suguru enjoys just existing with his special someone. Don't get me wrong, he definitely talks when you get him started but I think heâs kinda cool for being able to sit in silence with someone.â
You chew the inside of your cheek. âIâm kind of bad with silences. I end up embarrassing myself just to fill them. Do you think itâs fixable? Should I just not talk?â
âWoah, slow down. Itâs fine, he has enough social awareness to fill in the gaps if youâre uncomfortable. But iâm just telling you what he likes,â he studies you. âHe doesnât like petnames, by the way.â
Heat creeps up your neck. âThatâs fine, itâs not a dealbreaker,â you mumble.
âI'm just saying. He's a real fan of using your first name. When you two get on that basis, of course.â
âAnything else, Geto expert?â
Gojo hums, taking a long sip of his latte, eyes tracking up. âHe likes meaningful stuff like art with a story behind it, long conversations about philosophy. Like yeah he still likes doing things just for fun but thereâs a difference between like and love.â
You wince. âBut love is meant to be silly, meaningless stuff. Like sending pictures of dogs cuddling because it reminded you of us or whether youâd still love each other if you turned into worms. Like taking the longer way back home just to spend more time together. Or, I don't know, building blanket forts as adults.â
Gojoâs mouth twitches.
You stop, suddenly aware you sound like youâve been storing these thoughts and theyâve suddenly all gotten loose.
âStuff that doesnât matter,â you finish weakly.
He rests his chin on his palm. âLike going to the arcade and getting plushies for each other at the claw machines?â
You laugh, shoulders relaxing. âI'd obviously do better. You look like you have no hand eye coordination.â
âDid you forget I literally play ice hockey?â
âRight, your role as the benchwarmer?â
âMy ass has never once graced those benches.â
âI don't know, I swear I remember seeing you on the sidelines.â
âYouâve come to watch me play before?â He grins, cheek slightly smushed from his position.
âBecause Shoko went.â
He juts his lower lip out. âHarsh.â
There's a few seconds of silence as the conversation replays and you feel a sudden rush of embarrassment. You look up to see if he clocked your earlier slip up but he only tilts his head more into his hand.
âWhat?â
âNothing.â You clear your throat and look down at your drink. It's left behind a ring of water around its base. âHow are you two best friends when youâre so different?â
âBecause he slows me down,â Gojo says like itâs simple. âAnd I drag him out of his head. But he doesnât need another person to do that for him so donât even think of taking my spot.â
You both share a laugh and it lingers a little longer than the joke deserves, warm and easy, until it naturally tapers off into something softer.
âWhy do you even like him?â He suddenly asks, voice soft against the murmur of the cafe.
You slowly slide your gaze out the window as if reliving the moment. You can almost feel the rain on your skin, the warmth of a hoodie not your own, and the residual laughter at the back of your throat that makes you smile.
âLast semester when it was pouring rain, he saw me waiting outside a building without an umbrella and we ended up running through the storm. Itâs stupid but it was fun and meaningless and definitely what I needed after my finals.â
Your words make him frown, finger tracing a random shape on the wet surface of his glass absentmindedly. âThat doesnât sound like him.â
âMaybe you donât know him as well as you thought?â You offer.
âDonât be ridiculous, heâs my other half.â
âAgain, should I be concerned right now?â
âAre you homophobic?â
âNo?â
âThen youâre fine.â
âWaitâŚâ
Gojo glances down at his phone and sighs. âIt's getting late, sweets. I'd love to stay longer but I promised the boys weâd go do this carwashing event.â
He pauses and looks up.
âDid you want to come?â he quickly adds on, âYou donât have to come alone, you could bring Shoko along or something.â
You wrinkle your nose. âNo thanks. You can imagine that sheâs not keen on seeing a bunch of shirtless boys.â
He grins. âSuit yourself. I'll walk you out. It's the least I can do on this date.â
You roll your eyes but stand and follow him out anyway, ducking under his arm as he holds the door open for you. Stepping out, youâre almost blinded by the bright sun and you have to cover your eyes to look up, squinting even with the shade provided by your palm.
He moves to stand in front of you. âWell, I'll see you around.â
Next tutoring session,â you remind him, letting your arm drop to your side. "Don't forget to watch the online lectures before then. And remember to do the weekly quizzes this time. Andââ
He reaches over to ruffle your hair fiercely, laughing when your words turn into a startled squeak.
âYes, yes, I got it,â
He lets you go and watches with a toothy grin as you start fixing your hair, glaring up at him and his audacity to smirk. His face quickly softens.
âSorry I canât walk you back to your dorms. I'm already running kind of late.â
âDon't worry about it,â you say when you feel like you look presentable enough. âUm, get there safe?â
âI will,â he starts stepping back. âText me if you need anything.â
âOkay, make sure toââ
âRelax, sweets, I got it,â He says with a chuckle and a wave, before he turns and starts walking off in your opposite direction.
You watch him go for a little longer before heading back to your dorm.You stare up at your ceiling. your ceiling stares back down at you. You've been staring at your popcorn ceiling for so long that youâve begun to discern shapes and different shades of what you had previously considered to be beige, plain and simple, but was now warping into the image of Gojo.
Something he had done yesterday clung to you even hours after the date. The ease in which he allowed the waitressâ fingers to brush his as he handed her the menus, the way he easily held onto your hand at the party, the lack of concern as he stood close to you on the walk back. You lift up your hands and slowly interlace your fingers. It's comfortable, familiar. until you start wondering one hand as someone else's.
Before you can doubt yourself, you pull yourself up and gather your phone and keys, heading to the door without another thought. On the way through the dorms, you send a quick text.
you: u free? im coming over
You stand outside Gojoâs door and knock. There's a muffled, incoherent reply before the door is pulled open, revealing Gojo. His hair is slightly damp with stubborn strands clinging to his forehead and heâs brushing his teeth. He's not wearing a shirt.
You stare at his chest.
âOne second,â he says around the foam in his mouth. He holds the door open a little wider and ushers you in, letting the door fall to a gentle click behind you. âSit on the couch.â
Wordlessly, you do, watching his bare back as he heads into his bathroom. The sound of water muffles your racing thoughts until he reappears, still shirtless but at least heâs not brushing his teeth anymore.
âHey,â he says, irritatingly casual. âI saw your text. You didnât even wait to see if I was free or not. For the record I am but imagine I wasn't. That would have been an awkward situation and between you and her, I would have picked her.â
You blink away your surprise and look up at him. âHer?â
âItâs a Friday night, Y/N. Youâre lucky I don't have someone over.â
You frown a little at that and he continues, heading to his kitchenette to open his fridge, pulling out two beers. He hands you one, pushing it towards you once more when you donât immediately take up his offer.
âSo, what are you doing here?â
âAre you going to put on a shirt?â
He blinks before a wide grin splits across his face. âI was wondering what you were looking at so deep in thought. I didn't want to assume again after you made a fool of me at the party but I guess you do have working eyes after all. Do you want me to put on a shirt?â
You blush, finally looking away. âObviously.â
He chuckles and places his beer down on the coffee table before going on a hunt to find a clean shirt. âBut from the way you were eyeing me it really wasnât that obvious. Besides, youâre telling me to put on a shirt in my own home?â
âIt's common sense when you have a guest over.â
His voice carries over from his room. âYouâre not really a guest, more like a pest. A guest implies I invited you over, no?â
âBut yesterday you said I could come to you for anything.â
âRight. What was I thinking?â Gojo comes back out and flops next to you, the couch dipping under his sudden weight. He takes the beer from your hands and cracks it open before handing it back and doing the same to his. âSo, you finally going to tell me whatâs up or are you just here to leech off my dwindling beer supply?â
âI donât even drink,â you mumble, watching as the water beads down your fingers.
âNo, but I do have some manners for my guest.â
âYou just saidâŚâ you trail off, recognising that youâll only go round and round in circles if you keep up this conversation. you place the beer on the floor and turn to him. âForget it. I'm here because I need your help.â
âFigures.â He holds the beer to his lips and takes a deep swig. âWhat can I do for you today?â
You bite your lip before turning to him. âCan I kiss you?â
Gojo chokes, pulling the beer from his lips with a hack, liquid spitting out onto his no longer clean shirt and sweatpants. He finally manages to get his mouthful of beer down, but he only coughs and hits at his chest. Hesitantly, you reach over and pat his back lightly.
He shrugs your touch away, looking at you in disbelief. âWhat did you just say?â
âI was wondering if youâd let me kiss you?â
âJust because youâre saying it politer now doesnât take away how crazy you sound.â He stares at you incredulously. âLook, I know we went on a date yesterday but I thought you of all people knew it was a practice date. I'm sorry but I don't feel the same way. Gojo Satoru doesnât do relationships.â
You groan, rolling your eyes. âI didnât suddenly develop a crush on you, Gojo.â
âSatoru,â he corrects you despite his shock.
âSatoru,â you emphasise. âI donât like you.â
âCould have fooled me.â
âYesterday just got me thinking. Youâre so natural with touching and stuff and I realised that I have literally no experience whatsoever. I know Geto isnât the type of person to care about whether I'm a virgin or not but I care. I care because I know I'll freeze up if we ever get to that part.â
He stares at you. âWhen i asked you a few days ago about whether or not you wanted to sleep with him, you told me to shut up.â
âThat was a few days ago.â You shuffle closer to him on the couch and watch as his eyes drop to your thighs inching closer, then back up, something like fear on his face. âI know this is a big favour but I thought since youâve kissed so many girls before and theyâve never meant anything that you might be okay with this? I mean you thought we were going to kiss that time at the party. So is this really that crazy to ask?â
âYes,â he says immediately. âIt is. because you like Suguru and I'm his best friend.â
âBut this is practice.â
âYou canât just echo what I've said in the past.â He runs a hand through his hair, looking off in the distance before coming back to you. âSuguru isnât the type of person to rush to things like that. You'd be in good hands.â
âI know but this is for me. So I know what to expect.â
His face is contorted in a way youâve never seen before. You decide to give another push.
âJust think of me as one of your hookups.â
He exhales softly, eyes staring into yours. âAre you sure? Have you even thought this through?â
âYes, I have,â you lie. âI mean, there arenât any cons. I'll lose my first kiss, get experience, and itâs all under practice anyway so it wonât mean anything. And you get a hookup for the night. It's a win win!â
His face only seems to pale more at your words. âYou havenât had your first kiss yet? Fuck, thatâs a lot of pressure. And I feel like you have the wrong idea about what a hookup entails.â
You shrug. âKissing? Making out?â
âSex.â
You pause. âWell, we wonât go that far. Maybe.â
âMaybe?â He exclaims and you quickly deflect because heâs looking more and more shocked.
âWe can start with kissing.â You shift closer, your thigh pressing against his. âCome on, it doesnât have to mean anything.â
Gojo looks at you, really looks at you, from the encouraging look in your eyes to the determined line of your lips. He huffs, running another hand through his hair at the absurd change to his Friday night plans. Sure, kissing someone wasnât a big deal for him, not when heâs tasted the lips of many before, but there was something different about taking someoneâs first kiss.
Finally, he sighs, long and hard. âJust a kiss.â
You beam, face lighting up. âOf course!â
He hesitates, cursing under his breath something long but incoherent, before gently reaching out to tilt your chin up. âTell me if you change your mind. Just shove me away, okay?â
You nod enthusiastically. âWhat do I have to do?â
âJust let me take the lead for now. And if you feel confident enough to kiss back, go for it.â Again, Gojo mumbles something under his breath, the absurdity of the situation still not lost to him. He leans forward as if to seal the deal before pausing, moving his hand up to caress your cheek tenderly.
Your breath hitches, eyes wide as you curse your own touch-starved form.
âYou okay?â He asks, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. âChanged your mind?â
You shake your head slightly.
Gojo huffs and you feel the puff of air against your lips.
When his lips finally press against yours, fitting against yours in a way youâve only ever seen in movies, you feel⌠nothing. You squeeze your eyes tighter, trying to dig through the sensations and pick out the one thatâs meant to set off fireworks and melt your stomach into goo. Instead, it just feels like thereâs someoneâs lips touching yours.
Sensing your discomfort, Gojo pulls back, eyes fluttering open to meet your unsure ones. His nose scrunches up a little as he studies your expression.
âHey,â he starts, voice low. âYou're hurting my ego.â
You lick your lips, trying to return your lips to their usual sensation. âIt just wasnât what I was expecting.â
âWhat were you expecting?â
âButterflies?â
He chuckles, hand still caressing your cheek. âYou're kissing me without any feeling. Itâs not my fault youâre as stiff as a board. Relax. Imagine Suguru or something.â
Now itâs your turn to make a face. "Wouldn't that hurt your ego more?â
âJust relax,â he repeats and you make the conscious effort to focus on the way heâs stroking your face soothingly. âThatâs it. Good girl.â
âDon't call me that, I cringed.â
He laughs, leaning in. âAbandon the part of you that cringes not the part of you that is cringe.â
With that, he brushes his lips against your again, letting you feel the slow movement and determine the pace.
Itâs not exactly rocket science, this kissing business, and you start to mimic the motion of parting your lips against his. It takes a few tries for him to hum in approval and deepen the kiss, his free hand sliding up to cup your neck and gently pull you closer to him. You let out a soft squeak and quickly pick up from the momentary break in rhythm on your end.
When his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, you blanch and pull back.
âOkay,â he starts. âThat really hurt my feelings.â
âWhat was that?â You cover your mouth with your hands, the slimy sensation replaying in your mind.
âThat was my tongue.â
âWhy didnât it feel good?â
He rolls his eyes at your complaint and slides an arm around your waist, pulling you closer until youâre half on his lap. âBecause youâre thinking too hard.â
âI was not thinking at all, actually,â you say, scandalised. âI didn't know I was going to be ambushed.â
âOkay, my bad, I should have given you a heads up.â He pauses and announces solemnly, "I'm going to start using my tongue.â
You make a face and he huffs out a laugh, forehead dropping briefly against yours. Up close like this, you can feel the vibration of it in his chest, the way his grip tightens just a little like he doesnât want you getting any bright ideas about you escaping.
âYou're doing fine,â he says more softly, thumb brushing slow circles at your waist.
You think briefly that this must be the allure to him that has girls fawning for his attention. You're not immune either, and you sub consciously melt under his touch, relaxing again. Once youâve done it once, given into his temptation, itâs easy to fall back again.
âFine doesnât seem like outstanding status,â you mumble, trying to maintain some resistance.
âFor your first time, it wasnât so bad.â His nose nudges yours, playfully and coaxing and youâre in his web again. âCâmere.â
Gojo doesnât pull you this time. Instead, he just waits, one arm warm and steady around your hips, hand stroking your hair as he waits for you to come to him. It's a sign of consideration that has you feeling jittery and warm, though thereâs a lazy smirk on his lips that suggests he has other ulterior motives that makes it as infuriating as it is attractive.
Your gaze flicks to his mouth then back to his eyes. His lashes lower just slightly, watching you watch him, and something in your stomach flips over completely. Probably your common sense.
âJust⌠slower,â you mumble.
âYeah,â he says quietly. âSlower.â
He still doesnât move first which is deeply unfair, because now you have to be the brave one.
You lean in. It's clumsy at first, more of a gentle bump of noses and a too-soft press of lips than anything smooth or cinematic like he had kissed you earlier. You almost pull back in embarrassment, ready to admit that maybe he was a better kisser than you had given him credit for if itâll mean this pathetic peck of yours can end and he can make it good again, when his hand tightens on your hip and he takes over.
His mouth settles properly over yours, angle shifting until the awkwardness disappears, until it stops being babyâs first kiss and starts becoming a warm, steady pressure that has your toes curling. Yhe faint brush of his breath against your cheek, the subtle tilt of his head that fits your mouth together and when he nips at your bottom lip, a soft startled sound escapes before you can stop it.
He swallows it down without hesitation.
His hand tightens reflexively and slides down, cupping your ass as he leans back and guides you onto him, fingers pressing into the fabric of your clothes to keep you there, not that you had any plans of moving. One moment your body is twisted awkwardly to meet him and the next youâre seated full on his lap, his warmth solid beneath you.
His breath fans across your cheek in uneven bursts, warm and damp, and the faint scrape of his teeth lingers as a tingling awareness.
You realise, distantly, that youâre no longer stiff.
Your hands, which had been braced awkwardly against his shoulders, loosen without permission. One slides up into his hair as you lean into him, damp strands cool at the ends, warm near the scalp, and the sensation grounds you in a way nothing else does. His mouth opens at the sensation and when his tongue sweeps along your lower lip again, you donât pull away. It isnât slimy or invasive like last time, in fact you welcome it, mimicking his openness and the kiss deepens.
Your breath mingles, movements syncing up and under the guidance of his lips and tongue, you start getting bolder.
You shift closer, just a fraction, your head moving up and face tilting down to angle yourself deeper when a low sound slips out of him.
Your eyes fly open and you pull away. âWas thatââ
âNope,â he says immediately, eyes darker than when you last checked. He's panting beneath your palms, a slightly warm tint to his face as he stares at you.
You swallow. âYou justââ
âI didnât,â he insists, far too quickly.
When heâs so adamant like that, itâs a little hard to say anything more. Besides, while itâs almost fun to poke the bear, the memory of his mouth on yours has you thinking about something else entirely.
You donât move from his lap and he doesnât push you off.
âThink youâre getting it?â he asks, watching you with something unreadable lurking in his eyes.
You donât hesitate. âNo.â
You stare at each other, catching a much needed breath.
âAlright,â he says, voice rough. âOne more. and then we have to stop.â
You lean in and he lets out a soft sigh like a man doomed before meeting you halfway.
Gojo doesnât start slow this time, maybe because he knows if he does, he wonât be able to control himself.
His hand slides more firmly to the back of your neck, guiding you towards him with a kind of impatience, mouth finding yours with confidence, your chest tightening at the gesture. Your fingers clutch at his shirt instinctively and he makes a low noise at the back of his throat, deepening the kiss until you slide your fingers up and into his hair.
A low exhale slips through his nose, almost shaky and he tilts his head in response to your faint tugs.
âThatâs it,â he murmurs against your lips.
Emboldened, you tilt your head and slide your tongue into his mouth to taste him. He tastes like beer and minty and something addictive that has you repeating the movement over and over. When he reciprocates, your stomach swoops instead of recoiling.
You shift, suddenly desperate to get closer and settle over his bulge.
Wow.
You both jerk away from each other quickly, your hands leaving his hair and his arm retracting from your waist. The break feels violent in its suddenness, like surfacing too fast in deep water.
Cold air rushes between you where there had only been warmth seconds ago. Your lips tingle, oversensitive, parted as you drag in a shaky breath. Gojoâs chest rises and falls sharply, eyes wide in a way youâve never seen before, pupils blow dark. For once, there is no smirk, no teasing glint, just a raw, stunned awareness, like heâs trying to process several things at once and failing at all of them.
You become acutely aware of exactly where youâre sitting.
Heat floods your face and to the tips of your ears. you scramble backward, knees slipping against the couch cushions, putting space between your bodies even as the loss of his warmth makes your skin prickle.
âOh my god,â you breathe, horrified. âI didnâtâI mean, I wasn't trying toââ
âDonât,â he groans, slumping back, covering his flushed face with his arm. His other hand reaches down to adjust himself though he doesnât seem to have any ideas of covering himself so you watch unabashedly. âJust donât say anything for a second.â
You clamp your mouth shut obediently.
The room feels too small, too quiet, every little sound like the rustle of fabric or the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchenette, even your own uneven breathing, suddenly feels magnified.
Eventually, Gojo pulls himself up, fixing dark eyes on your figure.
âIâm sorry.â You rush to say, though youâre not sure what youâre apologising for.
âItâs fine, itâs not your fault. It wasn't because of you, I guess I've just been pent up,â he runs his hand through his hair and you watch as he pauses, something passing over his face before he abruptly pulls his hand away. âAnyway, itâs normal.â
You nod too fast. âRight, yes. Totally fine. Super normal, nothing weird happened.â
âRight,â he says. âNothing weird.â
Your shoulders sag a little, tension leaking out now that thatâs been cleared up. The adrenaline leaves behind a strange floaty sensation and you try, and fail, to push down the sudden desire to continue, to explore even further.
âWeâre definitely stopping the practice today,â he says, crushing your dreams.
You nod again, somewhat grateful that a decision has been made for you considering the conflict thoughts warring in your head. âOkay.â
He suddenly ruffles his hair all messy and stands up with an exaggerated groan that makes you jump. âOkay! That's over. You did good by the way. Youâre gonna be trouble when you actually start dating someone.â
You frown. âWhy?â
âIt's a compliment, sweets, learn to recognise them, yeah?â He starts walking over to his kitchenette. âWant an actual drink?â
Your brain is still somewhere back in that last kiss, struggling to catch up. âSure. Just water, right?â
He snorts. âIâm not a creep.â
When you lean back against the couch and close your eyes to recenter yourself, he steals a glance and lets out a long exhale. He closes his eyes for a moment like heâs deeply exhausted.
When he opens his eyes again and makes his way to you, his signature smirk is back.
If anyone saw how nervous you look about to text Gojo, they might think you had a crush on him. Which is absurd because you clearly have a crush on Geto.
Your thumb hovers over the send button, chewing the inside of your cheeks as you debate whether this is a good idea or not.
Itâs been a week since you first asked Gojo for advice and though his methods werenât orthodox nor was he incredible help, you still had to give him his merits. Talking to him was relaxing in a way, the constant back and forth familiar and even his judgement didnât seem to come from a bad place. The physical stuff was a whole other story and did not influence your thoughts on how you felt about him whatsoever.
In summary, Gojo has given you determination that you couldnât have achieved on your own.
Using this newfound confidence, you take a deep breath and finally hit send.
you: hey are you in class today?
Not even a full minute later, his reply buzzes.
gojo: yeah i am
stalking me, super fan?
you: god this is exactly why i hate texting u
gojo: :(
why whats up though
ur class doesnât finish until 2 right?
you: yeah how did u know that?
u sure ure not my super fan?
gojo: guilty!
i just know dont ask what u cant handle
so u gonna leave me in suspense or are u gonna tell me
you: well you have class with geto right
The inside of your cheeks starts getting a little tender as you continue to gnaw and bite at the flesh, anxiously waiting as Gojoâs typing bubbles appear and disappear.
gojo: yeah i do
you: can i come see you?
gojo: what
you: like ill come to your class but can you leave after so its just me and him
u were talking about creating these situations on saturday right
so like
wouldnt this be perfect?
gojo: god this conversation isnât good for my heart
you: ?
gojo: our class ends later than urs
you: thatâs fine i can wait !!
gojo: nah i dont feel like it
you: ?????
man what the hell you said youâd help me
gojo: and i did
on saturday
what if i want suguru all to myself today?
you: come on please???
gojo: what if i dont want to see u
you: well i wont be bothering u this time
i just need an excuse to see him
i think whatever magic u casted over me on sat worked im feeling like scarily confident
i want to talk to him before the feeling goes away
like i feel like i can really do it this time you know?
please satoru?
gojo: god u have no idea how evil u are
fine
ill get us to go to the library
you: THANK YOU@!!!!!!
gojo: u owe me
you: YES DEFINITELY
gojo: another date this friday then
you: OKAY!!!
wait what
Waiting at the library is agonising. you attempt to complete some smaller tasks for your courses that youâve left in lieu of thinking about, well, boys. But just like every time before, your thoughts stray and settle on him. His pretty effortless smiles, his soft laughter, that sparkling glint in his eyes when he looks at you and itâs like the world quietens just to listen too. his long fingers, the mole on his earlobe, his whiteâ
When your phone buzzes again an hour later, you jump up from your seat to find the location of the photo Gojo sent.
You slip into the fifth library floor as quietly as possible, scanning the endless rows of students for the familiar top of someoneâs head. It doesn't take long for your eyes to settle on him.
Gojo is impossible to miss, slouched low in a study booth, hood up and drooping over his hair and the bottom pulled up to cover his mouth. His arms are crossed over his chest as he stares at his laptop screen.
And of course, Geto sits across from him.
Taking in a deep breath, you slow your pace into something that might pass as a casual stroll as if you had randomly come upon them by chance and stop by their booth.
âOh, hi Satoru!â
He doesnât look up. âHey.â
Then, after a manual moment, you turn to Geto. âOh my god! Geto? Wow.â Your voice comes out pitched a little too loud. âWhat a coincidence!â
Geto looks up with a smile. âHey, Y/N. What are the chances we ran into each other?â
Gojo snorts and you donât miss how pointed it is. You take the chance to glare at the side of his face but he only sinks into his hoodie with a grumble. You continue to stare, even narrowing your eyes as if itâll sharpen your gaze and he finally lets out a loud groan, flipping the hood down to ruffle his hair and sit up.
âOh no,â he announces into the silence, loud enough to draw a few irritated glances, not that he cares. He checks his phone, staring at his empty notification list. âIt looks like my best friend accidentally locked himself out of his dorm.â
Geto pauses. âI'm your best friend.â
You purse your lips, watching as Gojo begins to slowly pack up his things. Granted, he only needed to close his laptop and shove it into his tote bag, without a case mind you. He refuses to look up despite your efforts to catch his gaze.
âSorry man, duty calls. I canât help that iâm such a good friend.â He stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder. When he passes by, his arm brushing against yours despite the empty space all around, he leans down to whisper, âGood luck.â
You donât have the time to decipher if itâs sincerity or sarcasm that you detect because he leaves, his lingering cologne the only sign that he was ever there.
You turn back to Geto, offering a small, awkward smile, wondering if heâs caught on.
âWhat was that about?â You laugh.
Geto chuckles softly. âSorry about him. You know how he can be sometimes.â
He looks up at you patiently.
âWell, an empty spot has opened up. Are you staying to study?â
You fight the urge to celebrate. You happily erase thoughts of Gojo from your mind, leaving the gruelling task of decoding his strange behaviour for another day. Gojoâs seat is still warm when you take it, pulling out your laptop just for the act. There was no way you were wasting this golden opportunity with actually studying, donât be silly.
âSo,â you begin, picking at the corner of your sleeve. âAny plans this weekend?â
âYou didnât hear? Satoru is having a game this weekend. Itâs just a preliminary but heâs been hyped for it. I'm sure heâd love it if you rocked up.â
You almost laugh out loud. âNo way. He'd hate that.â
Getoâs brows lift, amused. âWhy would he hate it?â
âBecause,â you say, gesturing vaguely. âWe're not really friends. More like we have a symbiotic relationship. If we didnât have that, I doubt weâd even talk to each other.â
âI don't think so,â Geto smiles at you but instead of giving you the butterflies, it leaves you feeling unsure. âBut you should come. Not by yourself, of course, I'm sure Shoko would come along.â
âIf she was going to go, sheâd just take Utahime.â You shift in your seat, throwing the idea around in your head. âEven if I wanted to, I don't think I know anyone else whoâd want to come with.â
âDo you want to go with me?â
Your brain blanks.
âWhat?â
âI was planning on going anyway,â he says, tone casual and all your senses tunnel-vision on him. âBesides, I've been curious about the girl whoâs been taking up so much of Satoruâs time.â
Your answer is obvious.
âIâd love to!â
It comes out a little too fast, a little too bright, but you canât quite bring yourself to care. Relief, excitement, disbelief, it all tangles together in your chest until the only discernable thing left is a giddy sort of lightness.
Getoâs smile widens, clearly pleased and you beam back. He hands you his phone.
âCan I have your Insta then? So I can text you the details later.â
Your hands shake as you take it, thumbs clumsy as you type in your username, backspacing more times than youâd like to admit. Youâre suddenly hyperaware of everything, the way heâs close enough to see your screen, the warmth of his hand where it had just been, the ridiculous desire to go through your own profile but through his eyes settling on your mind. Later, you can already imagine stalking your own profile, scrutinising every photo, every caption, trying to imagine what it would look like to be him scrolling through for the first time.
When he takes his phone back, he doesnât immediately pocket it. Instead, he actually looks, thumb scrolling down, humming.
Oh god, heâs looking right now.
"Where's that quote from your bio from?â He asks, glancing up briefly. âIt sounds familiar.â
âOh, um. Itâs from my favourite novel.â Your eyes flutter across his face as you tell him the title, sneaking in a quick description to try to sell it.
âIâll have to check it out then,â Geto says, putting his phone away. âDo you read often?â
âNot as much as I want to. You know how it is, with school and everything. Not to mention books are crazy expensive nowadays.â
He nods sympathetically. âThere's this small bookshop tucked away near the city. It's actually close by the rink where Satoruâs game is. I could show you after his game on Saturday.â
Your breath catches.
âAfter the game?â You repeat, trying very hard to sound normal and not out-of-breath.
Geto nods, completely at ease.
âIf youâre not in a rush to get back after,â he adds, considerate as ever. âIt says open pretty late.â
You stare at him for a second, thoughts scrambling over each other.
Heâs inviting you out after a game. That meant walking together, talking more, being alone without the buffer of a crowd screaming over a bunch of men slamming into each other and hitting with their sticks.
You realise youâre meant to give an answer and quickly hurry.
âYeah, that sounds perfect actually!â You say, a touch too fast, then wince and try again, softer. âI meanâyeah. That sounds really nice.â
âGood,â he says simply, smile deepening. âIt's a cozy place. You could get lost in there for hours.â
âThat sounds dangerous. I already have a book-buying problem."
âSecondhand prices,â he reminds you. âIt's much safer.â
You hum. âThat's debateable. Lower prices just means I have to buy more.â
You canât believe your luck. Not only had Geto basically invited you on a date to Gojoâs game, heâs also asked you to go book shopping together afterward. And somehow, you had just finished a perfectly normal conversation with him without embarrassing yourself beyond recovery.
Could things possibly get any better?
âYou know,â he starts up again and you lean in. âSatoruâs doing suspiciously good in his classes recently. Any clue why?â
You freeze, temporarily thrown off guard. âHe better be. I don't tutor him for nothing.â
âI knew it was you. Why are you tutoring him? If heâs blackmailing you, I can help,â he says with a straight face.
âNo, no! Nothing like that!â You rush to explain.
He cracks a smile. âIâm just joking. He's not actually as bad as his reputation makes him out to be. It's all bad rep, you know?â
While youâve known Gojo through his reputation for as long as you can remember, youâve never once stopped to consider that might not be everything about him.
âWhat do you mean?â
âSig Kap had a frat sweetheart two years ago,â Geto explains, folding his hands loosely on his laptop. âShe was nice, really sweet but some of the older guys treated her like shit. When Satoru called some of the boys out for messing with her they werenât too happy.â
Your brows lift. âSo did they kick him out or something?â
âNot that thereâs much they could have done considering his family.â
âWhat about them?â
He glances at you surprised. âYou donât know?â
You shake your head.
âHuh.â His expression softens into something gentler. âYeah. A lot of people approach him because they want something, connections, favours, you know the deal. He absolutely hates it. Ironically, that influence is also what kept the older guys from pushing back too hard and they couldnât exactly scare him off so heâs there to stay.â
âAnd some people still donât like him?â
âSome still donât,â Geto confirms. âSo they spread all those stupid rumours instead. Probably easier that way since itâs not exactly traceable.â
Your stomach tightens. âWhat kind of rumours?â
He hesitates, then shrugs. âStuff about him sleeping around. that heâs messed with every girl on campus, that kind of thing. You donât have to look so devastated, it doesnât bother him much. If anything, it gets him more game. But itâs far from the truth. I mean youâre a girl on campus and he hasnât messed with you.â
Something about the way he says it, calm and matter-of-fact, makes your chest ache.
âHe did earn a lot of respect back,â Geto continues, oblivious to your growing distress. âEspecially from the younger guys. But some of the older ones never really got over it.â
He falls silent, studying you with that gentle, searching look that makes you feel like youâre under a microscope and the spotlight is shining down on you. Whatever he sees under the lens makes him smile.
âItâs nice,â he says softly. âThat youâre so genuine with him. He doesnât get that very often.â
The words hit like a punch to the gut. Couldn't he have used a word other than âgenuineâ? Because you arenât genuine, far from it, and that realisation makes your stomach drop, nausea blooming sharp and sudden and upheaving the contents.
You approached Gojo with a plan just like all those who have approached him with ulterior motives in the past. And youâve used him for his friendship and his willingness to help, to get closer to the person right in front of you.
You are no better than the people Geto just described. Worse, even.
Heat rushes to your face, then drains away just as quickly, leaving you cold.
You push your chair back abruptly, the legs scraping loudly against the floor.
âWhere did Gojo go?â you ask, wincing internally.
Geto blinks up at you, startled by the sudden shift. âOh, uh.â He gestures vaguely toward the exit. âHe said he had to help meâthat is, his friend unlock his door. He's probably back in his room now though.â
You nod too quickly, already stuffing your laptop into your bag with fumbling hands, cables tangling as if theyâre conspiring against you.
âAre you going after him?â Geto asks gently.
You freeze for a split second.
Are you?Here you are, sitting across from the person you supposedly like, the person you engineered this entire situation to get closer to, and youâre about to abandon the conversation to chase after his best friend. This is your chance, the perfect golden opportunity, and youâre throwing it away. and yet, you canât bring yourself to completely doubt yourself.
âYeah,â you say, half a smile hovering on your lips. âIâm so sorry. Thereâs just something I need to say to him.â
You bite your lip.
âSee you at the match though?"
Getoâs surprise melts into an easy grin. "Don't worry about it. Good luck. And Y/N, seriously, take care of him, okay?â
The words prick at your skin with a faint sense of deja vu, but you donât stop to examine it. Instead, you give Geto one last shaky smile, sling your bag over your shoulder, and hurry toward the exit. Your heart pounds so loudly it drowns everything else.Â
You knock at what you believe is his door if memory serves correct.
âGo away, I'm jerking it.â
You canât decide if heâs being serious or just scaring unwanted guests away. Regardless, you clear your throat and talk.
âSorry for interrupting? Look, itâs me, itâs Y/N. Can I come in?â
No sooner had you said your name, the door flies open, Gojo standing right behind, eyes wide and face flushed.
âY/N? What are youâI mean, I thought you had that date with Suguru?â He goes to run a hand through his hair but pauses, switching to his other hand.
âYeah well, clearly I left him to come see you.â You sigh deeply and brush past him into his room. âThereâs something I need to say to you and itâs really eating up at me for some reason.â
âNo sure, go ahead. Walk right in,â he mumbles but doesnât try to stop you, instead closing the door gently. âWhat are you doing here? Because if youâre here to gloat or have a girl talk, Shoko is the one for you.â
You flop onto his couch, staring up at his ceiling. He pauses before following, the couch cushions dipping under his weight as he drops down beside you.
âGojo, Iâm really sorry,â you say, turning to him.
He stares back unamused. âI told you to call me Satoru.â
You blink, momentarily caught off guard before correcting yourself. âSatoru. I'm really sorry.â
âOkay.â His frown lifts and he leans back to look at you. âAbout what?â
You open your mouth, then close it again, suddenly unsure where to even start.
âAbout everything?â You try weakly.
He raises a brow. âThat narrows it down.â
You groan, dragging a hand over your face. âOkay, specifically I feel like I've been using you and being annoying and dragging you into my mess. And also I abandoned you in the library which was rude and I donât know what I was thinking. I guess I wasn't and I'm really sorry.â
Gojo blinks at you and you hold your breath for the verdict.
â...thatâs it?â
âThatâs not âitâ, thatâs a lot,â you argue, pushing yourself up. âYou've been helping me this whole time and I'm just barging into your life, asking for unreasonable favors and taking up your time.â
He watches you for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes, surprise, confusion, maybe even something softer that he quickly buries under a flippant expression.
âThat's it?â he repeats, slower this time.
You nod, twisting in your fingers together in your lap, the fight leaving your body as quick as it came. âI mean, it's not nothing. I know I've been a lot. And you didnât have to help me at all, with any of it, but you did and IâŚâ Your voice falters. âI don't want you to think I was just⌠using you.â
Silence settles between you, thick but not entirely uncomfortable. The hum of his mini fridge in the corner fills the gaps. Somewhere down the hall, a door slams and laughter echoes faintly before fading.
Gojo exhales through his nose and leans back, head tipping against the couch cushion as he stares up at the ceiling.
âYouâre terrible,â he mutters.
He turns his head to look at you properly, blue eyes sharp in a way that makes your chest tighten. Up close like this, without the buffer of banter or crowds or motion, itâs impossible to ignore how intense he can be when he isnât performing for anyone. You've had the privilege to see this side of him a few times, and the thought that heâs let you in and youâve only gone and used him fills you with more guilt.
âYou didnât abandon me in the library,â he continues. âI left on my own free will, remember?â
âYeah butââ
âAnd youâre not using me,â he adds, voice flattening slightly. âIf you were, then you arenât using me to my full potential.â
You huff a weak laugh. âThanks?â
âI mean it,â he says, not smiling. âPeople who use others donât show up at their door looking like theyâre going to throw up from guilt.â
Heat creeps up your neck. âI did not look like that.â
âYou did,â he says easily. âStill kind of do.â
You shove his shoulder lightly. He barely moves, solid as ever, but the corner of his mouth lifts and the tension in your chest loosens at the sight.
âSo⌠youâre not mad?â You ask carefully.
He considers that more seriously than you expected. âI was.â
The worry comes back tenfold.
âBut not for the reason you think. So stop looking like youâve aged ten years, sweets, itâs not a good look on you.â
You wait for him to elaborate but he doesnât.
You sigh, unable to keep up with the emotional whiplash and opt to instead throw it all away.
âOkay, well thatâs cryptic," you mutter.
He shrugs. âI'm a mysterious guy. Itâs all part of the irresistable, untouchable charm.â
âI donât see how you can be mysterious when youâre so loud.â
âI open up to you and this is what I get?â
âYou did not open up.â
He turns his head back toward the ceiling. âAnd now I'm closing back down.â
You roll your eyes, but the knot in your chest has loosened enough that you can breathe again, you almost miss this back and forth and it seems he does too because he relaxes fully into his couch. Without thinking, you mimic him, shoulder brushing his. This time, neither of you moves away.
The proximity feels different than before. You've been closer to him than this, and you randomly recall being on his lap for some reason unrelated to this specific moment and the charged, quiet atmosphere.
After a moment, he speaks again, softer.
âDid you at least get what you wanted?â
You hesitate, the question knocking you out of orbit. âI think so. I mean he asked me to go to the game with him. and then a bookstore after.â
Gojo goes still beside you.
âMy game?â He shakes his head with a scoff. âFigures. Well, good for you.â
You twist the fabric of your sleeve between your fingers, suddenly unsure why that answer feels so unsatisfying.
âYeah,â you say anyway, forcing brightness into your voice. âIt is good.â
He hums noncommittally, eyes still fixed somewhere on the ceiling. For someone who never shuts up, his silence feels louder than anything he could say. You sneak glances at him from the corner of your eye, observing the strong curve of his nose, the harsh bob of his Adam's apple, the rise and fall of his chest and his big hands youâve had the opportunity to feel on your ass.
The quiet stretches, though it is far from quiet inside your head.
Then, before you can stop yourself, youâre already opening your mouth.
âCan I ask you something?â
His gaze slides to you instantly, sharp and attentive as if he was waiting for you to break the silence first. âNot to be that guy but you just did.â
âA real question.â You roll your eyes though his somewhat predictable rage bait helps ease some tension. Still, you hesitate, throat tight. If you say it out loud, it becomes real and no longer a suppressed fantasy. But if you donât say anything, this feeling in your chest might never go away, tainting every future you might have with Geto.
âHow do you know what youâre doing?â You ask.
One white brow lifts. âIn what context? I'm good at a lot of things. You're gonna have to narrow it down, sweets.â
You groan softly. âWith girls. With⌠touching. And stuff. Etcetera.â
Understanding dawns slowly, then all at once. You donât catch the shift in experience because you stare stubbornly at your hands clasp in your lap, heat flooding your face.
âOh.â
âI just donât know,â you admit, voice small. âI don't know what I'm doing at all and itâs embarrassing.â
He sits up a little, attention sharpening in a way that makes your skin prickle.
âY/N.â
You press on before he can interrupt. âI mean, I know theoretically, obviously. That's what bio class is for right? But I know in practice Iâll just freeze. Or overthink or do nothing. And if things ever go further with Geto, I don't want to be useless. You mentioned heâs had exes before, right? But I haven't. And that kind of sucks to think about.â
Then softly. âYou're probably the closest thing to experience I have.â
âUseless,â he starts. âIs not the right word I'd use. Suguru would never think that. Heâs not a dick.â
You finally look at him. âI donât want him to regret it. Or think I'm awkward. or that I don't want him.â
He studies you for a long moment, jaw tight, eyes searching your face like heâs looking for something he hopes not to find. âAnd youâre telling me this becauseâŚ?â
You scoff. âYou're not stupid. I mean sure, you almost failed babyâs first statistics but youâre not dumb.â
âNo, I guess I'm not, thanks,â he sighs, running a hand through his hair. âBut I was kind of hoping maybe I'm still fantasising.â
âYou were fantasising before?â
âLet's not go there.â
âItâs a Friday,â you say slowly. "Shouldn't you have a hook up right about now?â
He pouts, looking oddly down. âI wasn't feeling like it.â
âSo you had to use your hand.â
âI wasn't jerking off, Y/N.â
Neither of you believe that statement. Here you are, sitting on the couch of campus heartthrob Gojo Satoru, joking around about the lack of a female body against him while youâre upset about being a virgin. Even Gojo, who isnât admittedly the best at math, shouldnât struggle with putting two and two together.
âRight, I believe you.â You bite your lip, opening your eyes wider as you plead. âI just hate feeling unprepared. Youâve seen just how bad I freeze. Canât you help me?â
He chews on his lips aggressively before finally groaning, running a hand down his face. âYou have the worst ideas known to man. Fine. I'll help you. But we're stopping if it gets weird.â
âObviously.â
âDo you even remember how to kiss?â
âFind out for yourself.â
You grab his collar and tug him towards you, smacking your lips against his the second heâs in range. It's not the graceful, fireworks-exploding moment from rom-coms, more like two magnets clashing awkwardly, teeth bumping before you recall the right angle. Gojo chuckles into the kiss, the vibration tickling your mouth, and you pull back just enough to glare at him.
âIt hurts that you donât remember my lessons, sweets,â Gojo purrs, clearly enjoying your fluster.
âShut up and kiss me properly,â you mutter, snarky even as your cheeks burn.
You dive back in, and this time it clicks, most likely due to his more active participation. Your lips move in sync, his tongue slipping past your teeth. It's surprisingly nice, all heat and shared air, making your stomach flip in a way thatâs equal parts nerves and excitement. You didnât realise how much you were craving this since the last time.
Gojoâs hands stay loose on your waist, respectful but firm, until he deepens the kiss with a low hum. You feel him shift under you, his body reacting before his brain catches up. When you break apart for air, his eyes are darker, pupils blown wide. He adjusts his hips, and thereâs no missing the semi-hard bulge straining against his jeans because it nudges insistently against your inner thigh.
You both look down.
âUh, yeah,â he says, voice a little rough, something like accusation in his eyes as he glares down at Gojo junior. âGuess that means you do remember lesson one after all. Mind if I lose the pants?â
You snort, trying to play it cool despite the heat pooling in your gut. âNot so reluctant now, huh?â
âGame is game.â
He grins, all cock swagger, and pops the buttons off his jeans. They slide down his legs in a heap, leaving him in snug black boxers that do nothing to hide his growing interest. Gojoâs leaner than youâd pegged him for, abs carved from lazy gym sessions, waist dipping in before flaring to solid shoulders. But your eyes zero in lower, where his cock twitches half-hard against the fabric, outlining a decent length thatâs got you curiously intrigued rather than intimidated.
When he sits back down, he leans back on his palms and smirks. âYou can touch me, you know. I bet itâs better than just looking.â
âAnywhere?â
âI'm practically offering myself up to you on a platter. Yes, Y/N. Everywhereâs fair game.âÂ
You eye him for a little longer. He's not as big as he carried himself around to be.
As if sensing your unspoken realisation, he hurriedly explains, "I'm not completely hard yet.â
You nod, sympathetically. âRight, no I get it.â
âIâm serious, Y/N, stop looking at me like that.â
He grabs your hand and places it on his abs, ignoring your sudden squeak.
âYouâre going to have to work to get me there.â He watches as you hesitate, his heartbeat quickening slightly under your touch.
âThis seems less like teaching and more like you just wanting someone to get you off.â
âYouâre learning.â Despite his teasing tone, he eases you closer to him. âLook, itâs not exactly rocket science and what I tell you probably wonât apply to everyone. But most guys are animals so if you can make them feel good then thatâs all that matters. What's meta for most guys though is probably their neck and lower stomach. But you can start anywhere.â
His smirk falters just a tad when you explore, tentatively at first, palms sliding over his ribs and thumbs brushing his nipples until they pebble under your touch. Gojoâs breath hitches, but he keeps it together, murmuring encouragement. âI guess you could try there too. Fuck, this is kind of embarrassing. Canât you be normal and go at my neck or something?â
âYour neck?â Your fingers slide up to touch him there but he laughs and gently brushes your hand away.
âOkay, donât strangle me. When I say touch, I don't just mean with your fingers. You can touch your lips too, canât you?â
You bite your lips and nod, wetting them quickly with your tongue. You lean in closer, your lips finding the pulse point of his neck. It's a quick peck at first, testing, and he just arches a brow, unimpressed.
Fine, challenge accepted.
You brace yourself on his shoulders and lick a slow stripe up the tendon, tasting salt and faint cologne which isnât the best tasting thing in the world, so you nibble the skin. Gojo hums, head tilting to give you better access, and you dive in, sucking lightly, alternating with kisses that leave faint marks.
Itâs heady, this rush of control. His bare chest radiates warmth against your arm, heavy breaths ghosting your ear as he lets you lead.
âHungry, are you?â Gojo finds his footing against the absurd situation because if thereâs one thing he knows, itâs receiving attention from pretty women. If he closes his eyes like so, focusing only on the cute licks against his neck, he can almost ignore the fact that itâs coming from you. âI'd be careful not to leave any marks. Girls get jealous easily, you know?â
You roll your eyes at his very unsexy comment. He's underestimating you, youâre sure he is, and youâre even more determined to prove him wrong.
You kiss down his neck, licking at the column of his neck, and when you find this soft patch of skin, pale under your lips and glimmering with a thin layer of sweat, you do what your instincts roar at you to do and bite him as heâs mid yapping.
âI never really let girls kiss me like this, so be grateful that Iâohfuck!â
Gojoâs reaction is immediate as a downright sinful moan escapes his pretty lips unchecked. His hands tighten in your hips, head dropping forward, panting as he catches his breath from the sudden sharp inhale.
You let go, licking at the mark left behind. âOh, sorry. You donât do marks, right?â
âThat wasâŚâ He trails off, eyes dark as he holds you in his gaze. âJesus, sweets, where did you even learn that kind of stuff?â
You shrug, letting him hold you back and feeling a little bit like a rabid animal. âIt was just something I wanted to do. Was it bad? Did it hurt?â
âNo, it was fine. Keep going just⌠use your hands a bit more too,â he hurries to add on, clearing his throat and loosening his hold on you. âIt feels better if you use both your mouth and hands at the same time. Keep going, but donât forget the rest of me.â
Finding no error in his words, you enthusiastically go back to kissing and sucking on his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat. Meanwhile, you slide your hands down his chest, marveling at how smooth he feels despite his muscle.
When you graze your finger tips between the medial line of his abs, you feel him shiver and you detach your lips from his neck to watch his eyes track your every move, hungry and unblinking.
âAtta girl,â he rasps, abs flexing under your palm and he shivers as you slide even further down, hand hovering his stomach. His cock visibly thickens in his boxers as you trace the ridges of his abs.âThatâs it. Take your time, sweets. I'm not going anywhere.â
You never considered that Gojo would be so vocal during sex, not that this even counted as sex yet. If anything, that made you even more curious, wondering if he himself knew how much he was talking and how little any of it even meant. In case he didnât, you didnât dare talk in case it would break the spell.
Your fingers skim the waistband of his boxers and he sucks in a breath, voice dropping an octave.
âFuck, yeah. Thatâs the spot.â The fabric tents fully now, his cock hard and straining, the tip outlined clearly. It's thicker than you expected, pulsing with need, and the sight sends a thrill straight to your core.
Gojoâs eyes flick between your hand and your face, flushed and focused. âSee? told you itâd wake up. want to see all of it?â
You nod, eyes trained on his bulge.
He grins, taking your hands to hook your thumbs into the sides of his boxers. He helps you slightly though he lets you do most of the work. Emboldened, you tug the boxers down just enough to free his cock, watching it spring up, thicker now, veins prominent along the shaft, the head flushed and glistening with a bead of precum.
Your first words are, of course, very sexy.
âOh damn.â
Gojo laughs breathlessly. For my own ego, I'm going to take that as a good thing.â
âIt just doesnât look how I expected it to.â
That makes him frown. He ducks his head to meet your gaze. âHey. She has feelings too, you know. Donât imply that sheâs ugly, sheâll sag.â
âShe?â It's so ridiculous you snort, the nervousness running away to let curiousity fuel your movements once again, fingers curling around his hot, velvety length. He's rock hard under your soft touch, precum slicking your palm as you pump him experimentally. Gojo groans low in his throat, head falling back against the couch.
âShit, just likeânghâthat,â he grits out, voice wrecked. The sound hits you like a spark, raw and primal, making your thighs clench. âMyâmy dick has she/her pronouns. Itâs 2026 now, get woke.â
Still looking at you, he takes your hand again, wrapping it around his shaft.
âHold it properly. Feel how hot it is.â
He groans softly as you hold him, guiding your hand up and down in a slow stroke, pressing down where heâs sensitive just the way he likes it. âSqueeze gently and twist your wrist as you move.â
He demonstrates the twist motion, his large hand enveloping yours, precum beading at his tip from both the sight and feel of you.
He lets you go, leaning back on his elbows, enjoying the view of you jacking him off. âYouâre a natural, keep going, just like that.â
His breathing becomes heavier, his abdomen tensing. He canât help but buck slightly into your hand.
Despite his unattractive dirty talk, it doesnât drive away the power you feel and it doesnât take away from the sounds, the way his body trembles under your control. It's all so intoxicating, way better than any awkward fumble youâve imagined with Geto late at night with your hands down your pants.
To shut him up, you squeeze a little tighter and he hisses, pulling you away.
âSlow down,â he pants, catching his breath. He closes his eyes for a moment before locking you in a fierce gaze. âDo you usually shove your finger inside when youâre dry?â
âWhat?â
âThis is why lube exists, woman. God, my poor lady,â He looks up at you, eyes trailing down from your eyes to your lips.
âPlease donât refer to your dick as a lady.â
âIâve gotten no complaints so far.â Gojo reaches up, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, dragging it down slightly. âHave you ever spat on anyone?â
âExcuse me?â You look down at him as if heâs grown another head.
He lets out a strangled groan, hips bucking up under you. âYeah, keep looking at me like that and spit on my dick. Give her the good old hawk tuah.â
Your grimace only grows and he bites his lip, the corners quirking up. âPlease,â he whispers and youâve lost.
The word hangs between you like a dare, his blue eyes locked on yours, all wide and pleading in a way that clashes hilariously with his usual attitude if the unsure quiver to his lips didnât wreck you.
Gojoâs cock throbs in your loose grip, the head leaking more precum that drips down the shaft, making your fingers slick without even trying. You hesitate, face heating up at the sheer audacity, but the way his abs tense, the subtle roll of his hips begging for more, chips away at your resistance.
âFine,â you mutter, rolling your eyes to mask the flutter in your stomach and you must have imagined the way he groans. âBut just know Iâm judging you the entire time.â
âEven better,â he moans.
You lean over him, one hand steadying on his thick thighs, firm muscle under smooth skin, and purse your lips as you spit on him. Itâs awkward as hell, the glop of spit landing off-centre on the underside of his shaft, but you smear it around with your palm.
The glide turns smoother instantly, wet and filthy, your strokes picking up speed as his cock slicks up fully.
Gojoâs reaction is immediate, a deep, rumbling moan spills from his chest, his head knocking back against the couch with a thud, not that he notices. âFuuuck, yesâthatâs it, just like that.â
His hands fist the fabric of the couch on either side of his hips, knuckles white, like heâs fighting not to grab you and take over. But he doesnât, he lets you work him, hips jerking up in shallow thrusts to meet your rhythm, the tip bumping your palm on every upstroke.
âKeep going, tighter⌠shit, youâre killing me here.â
The power rush hits you harder now, watching him come undone under your touch. His cock feels massive in your hand, thick and veined, pulsing hotly as you pump from base to tip, thumb swiping over the slit to collect more precum and spread it down. You can feel every ridge, every twitch, and itâs nothing like the vague fantasies youâd spun about Geto. This is real, messy, and way more intense. Your own arousal builds, thighs pressing together as you grind subtly against nothing, the heat between your legs turning insistent.
âDoes it⌠feel good?â You ask, voice breathy and you slow your strokes just to tease, squeezing the base and watching in awe as a fresh bead of precum pearl at the head.
He cracks one eye open, gaze hazy and dark, lips parted in a pant. âGood? Sweets, donât sell yourself short.â
A grin tugs at his mouth but it falters into a groan when you resume, faster now, the wet schlick of your hand echoing in the room causing you to squirm.
âDonât stop,â he all but whines. âGonna cum if you keep this up. Want me to, sweets? Want me to paint your hand or what?â
The crudeness should turn you off, but it doesnât, it only amps up the thrill, making you bold. You nod, biting your lip as you lean closer, free hand bracing on his chest to feel his heart hammering.
âYeah, do it. cum for me.â
Gojoâs control snaps like a rubber band. his moans pitch higher, body arching as his cock swells in your grip, veins bulging. âFuckâfuck, canât help it, Iâm gonnaââ
He bucks hard once, twice, and then heâs erupting, thick spurts of cum shooting from the tip to splatter your fingers, his stomach, even a streak across his abs. It's hot, sticky, rope after rope as you milk him through it, not knowing what else to do. You slow your strokes until heâs spent, twitching sensitively in your palm.Â
He slumps back, chest rising and falling like he ran a marathon, a lazy, disbelieving laugh bubbling out. He runs a hand down his face, groaning softly.
âI amâŚâ He lets out another breathless laugh, head dropping back against the armrest of the couch. âSo fucking washed. What the hell was that, sweets?â
You blink, a little dazed yourself. Your hand is still loosely wrapped around him, slick and messy, and only when his eyes flick down do you jolt and snatch your hand back like youâve been burnt.
âIâI donât know,â you mumble, gratefully accepting the tissue he hands you, awkwardly deciding to dab at his stomach and abs too, anywhere your eyes can safely land that isnât his softening cock. âThat was⌠hey, wait a minute. Shouldnât i be asking you? What the hell was that spitting thing?â
He shrugs, your body moving with the motion as you remain on his lap. âI told you, thereâs some things some guys like and some donât. As a note of reference, maybe donât spit on Suguru. Youâll kill his ego.â
He has the audacity to smirk at the thought considering the state of him, hair a mess, cheeks flushed, mouth pink and kiss-swollen from all the swearing and groaning.
âYou're disgusting,â you accuse weakly, trying not to think about how heâd looked under you a few seconds ago, jaw slack, eyes glazed, like youâd wrung the soul out of him.
âMmm.â His gaze drags over your face, down the line of your throat, lingering a beat too long at your chest before he drags it back up. âSo, how are you feeling after all that?â
âEmbarrassed,â you say immediately.
âBut kinda turned on, too?â he guesses, just as fast.
Your mouth drops open. âI did not say that.â
âDonât have to,â he says, maddening. âYouâre still sitting on me, you know.â
You freeze. You're still straddling his lap, knees planted on either side of his thighs on the couch, hips pressed to his, fingers bunched at his stomach. You'd be so focused on that scrunched up look on his face when he came that you kind of forgot to be mortified about the position.
Now you remember.
âI was busy,â you mutter, shifting like youâre about to climb off.
His hands come up automatically, one at your waist, one braced at your hip, holding you there without quite pulling you back down. âHey, hey. I didn't say you had to move.â
âBut youâre allâŚâ you wave a hand vaguely at his lap, face burning. âPost-nut clarity or whatever. You should be resting or something.â
âThatâs hilarious, do you think Iâm an old man?â He huffs a laugh. âIf my stamina lasted one puny handjob I would never show my face anywhere. Hey, donât glare at me like that. you know what that does to me. you glaring at me and spitting on my cock while you jerk me offâfuck.â
âDon't say it like that,â you hiss, heat flooding your chest. âYou literally told me to.â
âAnd you did so good,â he croons. âLook at you, all flustered now. You were seconds away from calling me pathetic, you know.â
âHow are you turning this on me? Youâre the one that liked it,â you shoot back, shoulder tensing.
His fingers flex at your waist, like heâs remembering it. âYeah. I really, really did.â
The way he says it sends a tiny shiver through you. You feel ridiculously aware of yourself suddenly, of your damp palms on his chest, of the way your thighs are pressed around him, of the restless thrum under your skin youâve been trying not to notice since he first groaned for you.
You shift again, intending to put some space between you, and hiss as the movement drags you a little too firmly against him, sparking through the ache low in your belly.
You go very still and so does he.
His eyes flicker, dropping for a fraction of a second to the point where your hips meet his. You can feel the change in him, no longer wrecked and loose-limbed, but sharpened like heâs honing in on every tiny flinch.
âOh,â he says softly. âFeeling something, sweets?â
âDonât start,â you warn, feeling every urge to catapult yourself off his lap. His hand tightens on your waist, thumbs rubbing absent circles, maddeningly casual. âCan you let me go already?â
âBut itâs not over yet, are you sure you want to miss the best part? If I said I wanted to make it your turn, would you say no?â
The question hangs between you, heavier than his usual teasing.
âThis isnât⌠about that.â
âSure it is,â he whispers, lips curved into a wicked grin. âYou wanna learn how to make a guy feel good right? Then you also need to know what you like. If you know what works for you, itâs easier to tell him what works for him.â
Has Gojo always been so reasonable?
âBesides,â he continues when youâre not rushing to sign up to his touch. âIâm being selfless here. You canât seriously think I'd let you walk out of here without repaying the favour first, right?â
âWay to sound like a douche.â You swat at his chest, a weak attempt to appear levelheaded.
âHow else am I supposed to say it?â He laughs softly, catching your wrist but not pushing it away, thumb stroking over your pulse. âI want to touch you. properly. Can I?â
Your stomach swoops.
âJust to know what it feels like?â
âExactly.â His smile goes crooked at the edges. âNow youâre getting it.â
You stare at him, breathing shallow. Your heart is thudding way too fast. youâre hyperaware of your own body again, of the way your panties stick uncomfortably, of the restless ache thatâs only been getting worse, of how easy it would be to fall into his tempting embrace.
âHey, come back to me,â Gojo murmurs. âWe don't have to do anything you donât want. I promise I'm not a dick. So? What do you want, sweets?â
You look down at where his hands rest, big and warm on your hips, fingers flexing like heâs trying very hard to stay put.
You could say no, you know that. He'd let you hop off, probably make a dumb joke to break the tension, and the both of you can go back to pretending the constant physical touch is driving you up the wall. But you also know your legs are still a little unsteady, and that every time you shift you have to bite back a sound you really donât want him to hear.
You swallow, hard.
âYou have to listen,â you say finally. âIf I say stop, you stop. and none of your stupid comments either.â
His expression sobers instantly, hands jumping a little at your hips. âPromise. Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.â
âIâm telling you, when you say shit like that, everything goes back inside.â
âYeah, yeah, I get it, you want me quiet. So can I touch you or are you going to keep torturing us both?â
âYou deserve the torture,â you grumble, then quieter, âBut, yeah. okay.â
He hums. âNot good enough. Say it again?â
You bite back a complaint. âI want you toâŚtouch me.â
It comes out barely more than a whisper, but it hits him like a truck. His eyes darken, lashes lowering as he sucks in a breath. One moment youâre straddling him, the next heâs sat up and turned you around so your back leans against his chest, his breath tickling your neck.
âYou donât know what you do to me,â he groans, hands sliding down to your stomach. His fingers play with the hem, nails barely grazing your bare skin. âCan I?â
You shiver, looking down to watch his hands with anticipation. Swallowing, you brace yourself and nod.
âGood girl,â he breathes.
His hand trails under your shirt, fingertips tracing nonsense shapes on your skin. He doesnât go straight where you know youâre aching for him to go. Instead, he takes his time, mapping out the sensitive spots he finds, where your muscles jump when he squeezes, lowering his hand to where your breath stutters when he drags his knuckles along the inside of your thigh.
âYou're wound so tight,â he murmurs, half to himself. âRelax for me, Y/N.â
âShut up and stop teasing,â you hiss, and then gasp when his hand finally slips higher, brushing over the edge of your waistband.
âIs that a no?â He asks instantly, stilling.Â
]You want to throttle him. âIâm just⌠nervous.â
âOf course you are,â he says, voice going stupidly soft in your ear, hands playing with the fabric. âThe first timeâs always weird. But it doesnât have to be bad-weird.â
He slowly slips his hand under the band, feeling you go still.
âHey.â He presses his lips to your hair, mumbling soft words of praise. âYou're okay, youâre doing good. Just breathe for me.â
You do, albeit shakily, his fingertips brushing the damp centre of your panties.
âYouâre already⌠Jesus," he says quickly. âI really did a number on you, huh? And without even touching you, too.â
âIf you donât shut up, I'm leaving,â you threaten weakly.
He chuckles, guiding your attention away. Gojo slides your shorts down so you can see exactly where his fingers press against, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks at the sight of his thick fingers prodding against the backdrop of the panties you chose out this morning. If you knew something like this would happen, you would have worn something else.
Gojo thankfully doesnât comment on it. Instead, he slowly explores, no sudden movements, no overwhelming pressure, just the occasional slide against your clit.
âOkay?â he asks, and you realise youâve gone silent, holding your breath again.
âYeah,â you gasp. âJust feel different thanânevermind.â
âDifferent good?â He prompts, thumb pressing down on your clit and you jolt, an audible inhale escaping you.
You feel his arms tighten around you.
âOh, there we go,â he mutters, sounding ridiculously pleased with himself. âThat got you.â
You donât dignify that with an answer, not that you have the capacity to because the next moment, heâs moving his fingers with practiced purpose. His thumb circles your swollen clit through the damp fabric, the barrier muffling any sharp pleasure though it helps you wrap your head around the sensation.
When you start lifting your hips to meet his touch, he knows he has you where he wants you.
With his other fingers, he slowly slides your panties to the sides and touches you directly. The effect is immediate, your eyes snap down to watch, body tensing, want like youâve never known it before shocking you.
The sight of your own arousal makes you wetter and he abandons his touch to touch you directly.
âLook at that,â he coos in your ear, voice breathy with awe and smug satisfaction. âHere you were acting like you wanted to leave when youâre this wet. Thought I wouldn't know, sweets? That I couldn't see you eye my dick all hungry like that?â
He emphasises his words with a harsh pinch of your clit and your head falls back to rest on his shoulders with a filthy moan ripped from your throat, raw and unprocessed.
Gojo takes the chance to kiss your neck.
You should hit him for his words, you really should. But instead, your hand flies up to his forearm, nails digging in when he slides a finger to circle your entrance and the world briefly whites out.
He groans quietly, like your reaction is doing something to him. âThatâsâfuck, youâre so cute. Do that again.â
âDonât tease,â you say again, voice barely there and brain too mushy to think of something original.
And like he knows, Gojo slowly slides a finger into your pussy and the pressure temporarily pushes out all of the pleasure. But then his free hand is playing with your clit and heâs telling you how good you are and how pretty you sound, and it comes back.
He thrusts that finger in and out slowly, letting you adjust to the intrusion and when youâre sighing soft moans and broken demands again, he curls it and doesnât stop moving. He could easily overpower you, could pin you down and take, take, take, but he doesnât. Every time you tense like you might pull away, he backs off just enough, murmuring at your ear, though by the time youâre close you havenât panicked in a while.
Heâs the one breathing hard when you start to chase your peak, like heâs the one being touched.
Youâre writhing now, his arms having to tighten around you to keep you still as he slides another finger inside.Â
âThatâs it,â he whispers, panting when your thighs clamp around his hand, head tipped back on his shoulders and eyes starting to roll back. âThere you go. I've got you. Let go for me, yeah? Doing so good for me, sweets.â
âS-Satoru,â you choke out, the name ripped from somewhere deep.
His whole body jolts behind you and you feel a twitch near your ass.
âOh, fuck,â he groans, like youâve done something filthy. âSay my name like that again, I swear to godââ
You donât because suddenly, youâre gone.
His fingers pressed against the spongy spot inside, his thumb circling your clit, and suddenly everything tightens then snaps and youâre tumbling, shaking around the steady anchor of his hand and his arm and his voice in your ear. He doesnât speed up, letting you ride your orgasm on his hand, mumbling sweet nothings against your sweaty neck.
Itâs messy and overwhelming and a little scary for a second, then his palm is flat over your lower stomach, grounding you as waves of sensation roll through your body. His other hand finally gentles and you can breathe again.
When you finally slump back against him boneless, the room feels dimmer. your chest heaves, skin prickling with aftershocks that he guides you through.
He eases his hand away and wipes it on his pants, keeping you steady on his lap.
âHey,â he says softly, lips brushing your hairline. âYou still with me?â
You nod, or at least you try to. âI think so.â
âYeah?â He presses, smiling against your skin.
âYeah.â
âGood.â he exhales like heâs been holding his breath with you. âYou did amazing, sweets.â
âYou're making me sound like a dog.â
âWell, you were very obedient,â he says lightly, then winces. âOkay, that sounded kinda bad.â
He huffs a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest where youâre still half-leaning against him. One of his hands comes up, hovering for a second like he isnât sure if touching you again is allowed, then settles gently at your side.
You catch your breath, stealing a glance. His hair is a mess, cheeks flushed, eyes still blown wide but thereâs something softer around the edges, so different from his usual cocky composure that it does something strange to your chest.
âYou're the worst,â you mumble, just to say something.
âOh?â his brows lift. âYou seemed pretty satisfied with the lesson.â
You keep your mouth shut because there is absolutely no winning that argument.
Silence falls, not heavy nor awkward, but certainly unfamiliar. Without the distraction of movement or adrenaline, your mind starts spinning into the consequences of your actions.
And the fact that youâre still sitting between his thighs.
You stiffen and he notices immediately.
âUh. Do you⌠want toââ
âYes,â you say at the exact same time he says, âWe should probablyââ
You both stop, voice overlapping as you tell each other to continue then stop again. Itâs funny if not awkward and you laugh, startled and breathless.
âOkay,â he says, hands lifting slightly in surrender. âYou first.â
âNo, you go,â you insist, scrambling upright a little too fast. The room tilts for half a second and you grab his thigh to steady yourself.
His hands hover again, then settle at your waist just in case.
âCareful,â he murmurs. âYouâre still a little⌠yâknow?â
You straighten and stand away from the couch, legs wobbling in a way you pretend not to notice. The cool air hits your skin and reality comes rushing back in a tidal wave of embarrassment.
Your skirt rests on your thighs but theyâre crumpled, and your hair is surely a mess.
Gojo watches, biting his lip hard enough to leave teeth marks. He stands too, running a hand through his hair, suddenly looking almost shy as he grabs his discarded shirt and pulls it back on.
For a moment, neither of you know where to look.
You fixate on a crack in the wall and he studies the floor.
âDo you, uh⌠want me to walk you back?â
The normalcy of the question feels surreal.
âIâm fine with walking,â you say quickly. âThe weatherâs nice so.â
âYeah,â he nods. âFresh air. Definitely.â
You grab your bag with fumbling hands, nearly knocking it off the couch in the process. He catches it before it hits the floor, fingers brushing yours again as he hands it over.
Neither of you pull away immediately. Then, you both do at the same time.
âRight,â you say.
âRight,â he echoes.
He opens the door for you, peeking into the hallway first before gesturing.
âYou sure you donât want me to walk you back?â
You almost cry at the visual of a way out. âNo, no, I'm fine. Itâs not too far anyway.â
Gojo studies your face like heâs trying to decide whether to argue or not. For once, he doesnât look like heâs in on some big secret. He just looks uncertain.
âIf you say so,â he mutters, stepping aside.
You slip past him into the hallway, letting out a big sigh of relief when you hear the door close gently behind you with a soft click. Looking over your shoulder, you see Gojo follow you out anyway.
Your feet slow. âYou donât have to, I'm really okay.â
âIâm not,â he says quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets. âIâm just heading in the same direction. That's all. What a coincidence?â
âUh-huh.â
The staircase is only a few doors down, but the short walk stretches, each step heavy with things unsaid. You can hear voices downstairs, life continuing on, oblivious.
At the top of the stairwell, you stop.
âAre we still going the same way?â
He shakes his head.
âIâll see you around,â you settle on when the silence stretches.
âSee you, Y/N.â
You take one step down, then another. After a third, you glance back.
Gojo is still there, watching. your chest does something uncomfortable as he waits.
âGoodnight, Satoru,â you say softly.
He blinks, like the name catches him off guard every time. Then he smiles, small but warm.
âNight, sweets.â
When you reach the bottom and push out into the night air, it feels shockingly cool against your overheated skin. The campus is quiet, streetlights painting everything gold and shadowed, the distant sound of traffic humming like white noise.
You walk faster than necessary because if you slow down, the thoughts will quickly flood in. And if you start thinking, you might realise that somewhere between asking him for help and leaving his room tonight, something has gone very, very wrong.Â
Youâre not sure why you care so much.Â
You tell yourself itâs because Geto will be there, because this is a chance to make a real impression, because this is what all of it has been building toward. But as you stand in front of your mirror, turning this way and that, smoothing imaginary wrinkles, adjusting your hair for the third time, checking your reflection from angles no one in real life would ever see, you realise this isnât normal.Â
Youâve never put this much thought into a âcasualâ outing before.Â
Not the outfit, carefully balanced between cute and effortless, like you didnât spend forty minutes deciding between two nearly identical tops just for the jersey to cover it anyway. Not the makeup, soft enough to look natural, deliberate enough to feel like armor. Not the way your stomach flips every time you picture stepping into the arena.Â
You know deep down this isnât about Geto. That thought alone makes your chest feel tight.Â
You grab your purse before you can overthink it further and leave.Â
When you walk into the arena, the roar of the crowd hits you like a physical force, loud and electric, buzzing with anticipation and cheer. It bleeds through the concrete walls, through your bones, and through the floor beneath your shoes.Â
The game hasnât officially started yet, you made sure to come before then, but the energy is already at a fever pitch.
Your eyes sweep the rink automatically, searching. And you spot him immediately.Â
Gojo, in his navy and white jersey, skates across the ice like it belongs to him, like the rink exists solely to accommodate his momentum. It doesn't seem to matter that his helmet obscures most of his face, youâd recognise him anywhere. the easy confidence in the way he moves, the loose, effortless posture, the casual speed that looks like he isnât even tryingâitâs unmistakable.Â
His hair, damp under his helmet, peeks out in soft white tufts. His cheeks are slightly flushed from exertion, breath fogging faintly in the cold air as he glides past teammates, exchanging easy shoves and taps of sticks. He's the easiest person in the world to look at and the hardest to look away from.Â
He glances up towards the stands during warm-ups, scanning lazily, and your heart stutters. You freeze, suddenly aware of yourself, of the crowd, of how ridiculous it is to hope heâll notice you among hundreds of people wearing the same colours.Â
I mean, all these people? All wearing the team jersey? And you wouldnât call yourself beautiful, not in the kind of way that makes someone stand out across a packed arena, and certainly not in a way that draws eyes automatically, notâ
Gojo turns a little more. and then his eyes meet yours.Â
The jolt is instantaneous, sharp and electric, like touching a live wire. Your breath catches, lungs forgetting their purpose entirely as a stupid, bright grin spreads across his face.Â
A strange warmth floods your chest, blooming outward until it feels too big to contain. You bite your lip, trying and failing, to suppress your own giddy smile as you tug lightly at the hem of your jersey, lifting it just enough to show the number at the front and point at it.Â
06.Â
If it's even possible, his grin widens. He spins around without hesitation, and easily mind you, skating backward for a few seconds just to show off the back of his own jersey, jabbing a glove thumb at the matching number with pride.Â
Heat rushes to your face.Â
It's ridiculous, childish even, but your heart is pounding and the warmth in your chest swells until itâs almost overwhelming.Â
When warm-ups end, he lifts his stick in your direction in one last, unmistakable acknowledgement before skating toward the bench, where his teammates swarm him instantly. One of them hooks an arm around his neck, dragging him down while another plays bongos on his helmet, elbows digging into his ribs.Â
From this distance you canât hear what theyâre saying, but you donât need to. His expression gives everything away, the wide grin and mock protests, and the way he shoves them back half-heartedly while still laughing.Â
Someone whistles, another bumps his shoulder and one even points toward the stands, toward you. Your stomach flips.Â
âY/N?âÂ
You start, tearing your eyes away as if caught doing something incriminating. Geto stands beside you, already holding two drinks, his expression warm and easy.Â
âHey,â he says, offering you one. âYou made it. I found seats over here, itâs a pretty good view, if I donât say so myself. We should head over before the game starts.âÂ
You take the cup automatically, fingers brushing his. âThanks!â
He smiles, guiding you through the rows of people with gentle awareness, making space and steadying you when someone brushes past too close. It's thoughtful and careful and exactly the kind of thing that made you fall for him in the first place.Â
Once seated, conversation comes easily to him. Itâs all polite small talk and soft jokes, quiet observations about the team and season. He fills in the silence like Gojo had predicted, never letting it become uncomfortable. He does all the right things that you could almost tick them off a list. He laughs at your comments like theyâre genuinely funny and asks questions that make it clear heâs paying attention.Â
It should be perfect, it should be everything youâve ever wanted.Â
And yet, your eyes drift back to the rink, to the flashes of navy and white.Â
To the tall figure leaning against the boards, helmet off now, shaking his hair as he listens to a coach, nodding absentmindedly while his gaze flicks upward.Â
Your pulse jumps when his eyes land on you again. Except this time he doesnât grin. It might be your imagination but he seemingly looks to Geto beside you, then back, just watching.Â
You force yourself to look back at Geto, nodding at something he just said, hoping your smile looks natural and not strained.Â
BUZZWORD
The game starts fast.Â
Faster than you expected, faster than anything youâve watched on TV, faster than seems physically possible for men balancing on thin blades over frozen water. The pluck drops and suddenly the rink explodes with motion, bodies colliding, sticks clashing, skates carving violent crescents into the ice.Â
You lost track of the puck almost immediately.
Geto leans closer, voice raised just enough to carry over the roar of the crowd. âWatch Satoru, he plays center so heâll usually be in there.â
Your eyes find him easily.Â
He moves differently from everyone else, you see, loose, flashier, or maybe thatâs just you. No, you reject that notion as he accelerates in bursts, gliding between players with impossible precision, stick tapping the ice impatiently when he doesnât have the puck.Â
Every time he skates past your side of the rink, your chest tightens and your throat hurts a little more as you try to cheer louder.Â
The first goal goes to the other team.Â
Your side of the arena groans as one, a wave of disappointment that rattles through the stands. You feel it too, a sinking drop in your stomach, though you donât fully understand the play that led to it.Â
Gojo slams his stick once against the ice in frustration, then shoves off hard, jaw set.Â
Geto doesnât seem worried. âTheyâll bounce back. Satoru is the best they have, after all.â
Just like he predicted, they do. Midway through the second period, one of Gojoâs teammates manages to slip the puck past the goalie, and the building detonates. People surge to their feet to cheer and you find yourself in that crowd, cheering without thinking, adrenaline crackling through your veins like you personally contributed.Â
On the ice, Gojo grabs the scorer by the shoulders and shakes him, helmet bumping into helmet, grin blinding even through the cage.Â
Itâs a tie game until itâs not. Another goal to the opposing side which Gojoâs team equalising moments after. Again and again, a tense back and forth that even has Geto inhaling sharply at moments.Â
By the third period, your nails are dug into the flimsy paper cup in your hand, ice long melted into a yucky watered down version of whatever was in the drink. You barely notice when Geto takes it from you and sets it aside so you donât crush it completely.Â
The scoreboard reads 3-3 and the clock tells you thereâs two minutes left.Â
The noise is deafening now, frantic and desperate, every movement on the ice met with gasps or shouts.Â
Gojo has long since lost the playful edge from earlier. He circles near centre ice, knees bent, weight forward, eyes tracking the puck like itâs the only thing that exists in the world. A defender tries to box him out and he shrugs him off with a brutal shoulder check that makes the crowd howl.Â
The puck slides loose along the boards, ricocheting off a tangle of skates and sticks like it has a mind of its own. Someone on Gojoâs team snatches it first and fires it forward, a risky pass that slides clean across open ice, and towards him.Â
Gojo receives it in stride, blade cushioning the impact with effortless control. He doesnât even glance down. his head is already up, scanning his way forward. A defender lunges for him and he slips past with a sharp pivot, hips twisting, edges biting deep into the ice.Â
Youâre on your feet before you realise youâve moved.Â
âGoâ!â you scream and like a domino effect, people around you start to cheer.Â
Gojo fakes a left. The goalie commits.Â
He snaps right, dragging the puck across his body in one powerful motion, forcing the goalie to witness the outplay. And then he flicks his wrist and a sharp crack echoes across the rink.Â
The puck lifts, a black blur slicing through air, threading the narrowest gap between glove and shoulder, and slams into the back of the net.Â
For half a heartbeat, there is silence. Then the buzzer screams and the crowd erupts.Â
Sound crashes over you in a tidal wave, screaming, stomping, clapping, the metallic rattle of the stands shaking under hundreds of pounding feet. Youâre shouting too, throat tearing with it, hands flying to your mouth before dropping again because you need them free to clap and wave, anything to release all this energy exploding out of you.Â
Down on the ice, Gojo throws his head back and roars, pure exhilaration bursting out of him. His teammates collide with him seconds later, swarming him in a pile of navy and white, shoving his helmet and grabbing his shoulders, almost knocking him over in their celebration.Â
He's laughing.Â
Even through the cage, from the distance, you can see it, the wild brightness in his eyes and the way his chest heaves with adrenaline.Â
They won.Â
They actually won.Â
Youâre bouncing on your toes without realising, hands clasped in front of your mouth.Â
Gojo breaks free from the pile just enough to turn and look up into the stands. It's easier finding you this time around when he knows where to look.Â
His whole face lights up, grin splitting wide and unrestrained, so bright it feels like it could blind you, he lifts his stick and points it straight at you then thumps it once against the ice in a triumphant salute.Â
Your stomach swoops violently.Â
You laugh, breathless and giddy, lifting both hands to wave back like an idiot. Your body is already leaning forward, feet shifting as instinct screams for you to move. To go down there, to be closer, to meet him at the glass while heâs still glowing with victory looking as beautiful as youâve ever seen him, so alive that it radiates off him in waves.Â
You want to throw your arms around his neck.Â
You want to tell him that was incredible.Â
You wantâ
âY/N?â
Getoâs voice cuts gently through the chaos, close to your ear.
You blink, tearing your gaze away from the ice to find him watching you with a small, amused smile.Â
âThat was intense,â he says, laughter in his voice. âI forgot how crazy these games get at the end. Makes you glad you came, right?â
âYeah,â you breathe, though it comes out shaky and raw from all the cheering. âYeah it was. Definitely.â
Your eyes flick down despite yourself and find Gojo still looking up, smile dimmed.Â
Geto gestures toward the aisle. âIf we leave now, we can beat the post-game crowd. The bookstoreâs only a short walk away anyway. We can find Satoru after he comes out.âÂ
The words land heavy in your chest. How could you forget? There was a plan in action, the reason why you came, the person youâre supposed to be focusing on.Â
âRight,â you say, though your voice sounds far away even to your own ears.Â
On the ice, Gojoâs teammates are tugging him toward the bench, shouting in his ear and shoving him here and there. He goes easily enough, though not without one last glance at you. He tilts his chin, a silent question in your eyes, clear despite the distance.Â
Are you going?
Your fingers curl into fists at your side.Â
âReady?â Geto asks softly.
You swallow. â... yeah.â
But as you turn to follow him up the aisle, the roar of the arena swelling behind you, you canât shake that youâve made the wrong decision. You feel it, that strange, electric thread stretching thinner and thinner behind you as the tunnel swallows Gojo whole.Â
BUZZWORD
It should be fun.Â
Geto is easy to talk to, heâs polite, thoughtful and gentle, and all the right things. You trail behind him between the shelves as he talks about a book he likes, or some theory he discovered that explains so much and makes so much sense.Â
You try, you really do. You nod your head and attempt to store that information away. Â
But everything just doesnât feel right. It's hard to store that information away when your head is full of that look Gojo had given you, the way his white hair had stuck out from under his helmet, damp from the effort and glory of winning, eyes sparkling under the stadium lights, the way he had lifted his stick to point at you.Â
Geto is kind. But your tastes donât match. Your jokes land in different places. He's nice, and you do enjoy his conversation. But not in the same way you had enjoyed Gojoâs company that day in the cafe.Â
You donât feel nervous. You donât feel excited. Honestly, you just feel like pretending.Â
And as if the universe is screaming at you about something just beyond your grasp, when you reach for the same book, your fingers donât brush. And you donât want them to.Â
Getoâs phone buzzes when heâs in the middle of explaining some theories from this guy called Slavoj Zizek? He winces at whatever he reads.Â
âSorry,â he starts, sounding genuinely apologetic. âI need to head out. But hey, hereââ He pulls a paperback off the shelf and hands it to you. âThis is the one I was talking about. I think youâll like it.âÂ
you accept it automatically. âThanks,â you say, and then heâs waving and gone the next moment, door swinging behind him.Â
For a while, you wander the bookstore in an attempt to rationalise the complex emotions warring inside you. Geto is your crush. You know this. And yet, it all feels so superficial. Gojo had been right, there was nothing personal about the things you liked about him to explain the crush.Â
You stand in the quiet of the aisle, holding a book you frankly donât care about, surrounded by a silence that feels like the wrong choice made tangible long after the last customer walks out. Heavy rain falls outside, pelting against the roof of the store, a steady white noise that backgrounds your thoughts.Â
When the bookstore begins to close, youâre ushered outside. You swear as youâre suddenly caught in the harsh weather and through the heavy sheets of rain, there looks to be no other store open. Hastily, you run out in the rain to find some place where you can get cover over your head. Finally, you see a small awning from a closed shop.Â
You run under the awning, hugging your arms to your chest as you wait out the storm, feeling stupidly alone and stupidly unsure why youâre this upset. This is what you wanted right? But the part of your heart that has always known the truth traitorously voices the thoughts youâve been pushing down all this time.Â
Gojo.Â
Through the sheets of heavy rain, someone is running towards you. Tall, white hair, still in his jersey, his hair now damp (read: soaked) with rain water rather than sweat.
He skids under the awning, breathless, terribly drenched, an unopened umbrella in one hand.Â
âWhat the hell,â he says immediately, voice sharp with concern and frustration. âAre you trying to get pneumonia? Why didnât you go home? Didnât you check the weather? It clearly said it was going to rain today!â
You blink, gaping at his sudden presence. âWhat are you, no, why are you here? Shouldnât you be celebrating?â
He snorts. âYeah, I was. Until Suguru texted. Said he left you at the bookstore and for me to pick you up. Seriously, you didnât even bring an umbrella?â
The situation finally catches up to you and you frantically gesture to his own umbrella. âHow can you lecture me when you just ran out all the way here without opening your umbrella? itâs literally in your hands, all you had to do was open it!âÂ
âLike i had the time to! My legs are literally burning from the game and you made me run all this way out to save you!â
âI never asked you to!â
âWell, I had to!â He steps closer, finally freeing himself from the rain completely. His presence fills up the cramped space under the awning and you catch a whiff of cedar and sweat. âI couldnât just let you die out here in the cold!â
Speechless, you open and close your mouth like an idiot. Finally, you manage to ask, âHow did you even know I was out here?â
âWerenât you listening? I told you Suguru told me he ditched you!âÂ
At Getoâs name, your face falls. Ah, right. your little moral dilemma about Geto.Â
Gojo also calms down a little, his chest heaving a little slower as he uses the silence to catch his breath. his eyes scan your expression, picking up on the way you bite your lip, eyes looking away.Â
âHey,â he says, voice soft though still strained. âYou okay?â
Your throat tightens. âI guess? I don't know. Look, sorry. I appreciate you coming.â
âDon't give me that. Just donât. Youâve told me every embarrassing thing about yourself when you outed that you, you know, like Suguru. Donât hide something from me now. Are you upset that he left?â His hand comes out to wipe water off your cheek. âDon't cry.â
You scrunch up your face in mild disgust. âIâm not? That's literally just rain water.â
âOh. So you're okay?â
You inhale and let it out slowly. Were you okay? You shouldnât be, not if Geto was your crush and he just ditched you. And yet, under Satoruâs shadow as he stands in front of you, blocking the rain, brows furrowed and lips pressed tight as he looks you over in concern, you find yourself feeling okay. More than okay.Â
âWhy do you even like him?â He asks, quietly, a question that would have easily been lost to the rain if you werenât hanging off his every word.Â
âI told you,â you start, just as quiet. âHe saved me that one time.âÂ
âYeah?â He opens the umbrella with one hand, and holds your hand in the other, gently guiding you out from under the awning. Rain hits heavy against the fabric and he holds you close to keep you out from the storm, your chest grazing his. âHe saved you that day in the rain, did he?â
You swallow. âYeah.â
âJust like this?âÂ
Mutely, you nod. In his arms, you barely notice the slight chill.Â
Gojo searches your eyes for something. He exhales, long and uneven, like heâs been holding this in for longer than heâs willing to admit. And yet, he doesnât shy away, doesnât tear his gaze away from yours, just keeps holding the umbrella over your head, tilted ever so slightly in your direction such that youâre completely covered.Â
âThat day,â he says, quiet but steady, âWhen you got caught in the rain after that stupid orientation thing? Suguru wasnât on campus. He went back home for a month before the semester started and didnât come back until the second week. I was the one that found you.âÂ
Your breath falters. âWhat? But he⌠he gave me his hoodie. His name was on the tag.âÂ
âYeah,â Satoru laughs, a single disbelieving puff. âI was wearing his hoodie. He wasnât at the dorms so I stole some of his clothes to wear. Itâs whatever, he steals some of mine sometimes. The point is, I was the one that helped you.âÂ
For a moment, you stop breathing entirely. The rain pours around the two of you, a curtain of noise, but itâs silent under the umbrella.Â
Youâve never seen Gojo so nervous. Definitely not before the big game earlier, not on any of the practice dates, never when he talks to a group of people. Between the two of you, nervousness came more naturally to you. And yet, standing before you vulnerable, wet lashes stuck together, cheeks flushed from running and is that a faint bruise forming on his jaw? He looks nervous and itâs a sight that sends warmth all over your face.Â
His eyes are unbearably soft as he waits for your verdict.Â
âWhy didnât you tell me?â Your voice sounds too small.Â
âBecause you thought it was Suguru. Because you liked him. And back then, I didn't realise that I wanted you to know it was me.â
Your heart thuds, something a little more daring saying the next few words for you. âAnd now?âÂ
This moment was perfect. The two of you had been slowly closing that small gap of distance, eyes seeing nothing but each other and suddenly all those rom coms and kdramas come to mind. All those scenes of first kisses (forgetting the practices because those didnât include real romance), all those late night conversations with Shoko about what itâs like, they all come and leave your brain.Â
But instead of leaning in and sealing the deal, Gojoâs entire body suddenly stiffens. His arm around you loosens, placing more distance between the two of you.Â
What the hell?Â
His gaze drops a little further before coming back up with a discipline that can only come from reciting the digimon opening theme over and over in his head. âNow I'm trying really, really hard not to stare at you.â
Curious, you look down to your soaked shirt where the fabric clings painfully close, embarrassingly sheer. It only serves to emphasise the lines of your bra and though you canât really see anything, Gojoâs face is flushed pink not just from exertion, and his jaw is tight.Â
âSatoruââ
âMy place,â he blurts. âWe should, uh, get you warmed up. Your shirt is literally see-through and if I have to keep pretending I don't notice, I'm going to walk myself right into traffic.âÂ
âThat is so dramatic.â The beginnings of a smile cause the corner of your lips to quiver upwards at his flustered state.Â
âiâm dramatic,â he insists, voice strained, still not looking. âNow come on. I still donât want you catching pneumonia out here and Sig Kap is literally right near the gate. We can keep talking there when you donât look like a puppy left out in the rain.â
âSays you.â You eye his white hair plastered to his forehead and smile, reaching up to move a few clinging strands from his eyes. âBut okay. Iâd like that a lot.â
Unfortunately, the gesture makes him look back down at you, inevitably making him catch an eyeful of your chest. He closes his eyes. âLet's just go before I give you this umbrella and walk onto the road.âÂ
You laugh a little. âGeez, you really are dramatic.âÂ
He walks you to Sig Kap, refusing to stand fully under the umbrella. When you try to grab his arm and pull him under, he only launches into a talk about being a feminist and how chivalry isnât dead and how much he hates periods and loves matcha. You laugh and he smiles down at you before looking away. Seriously, he needs to get over that.Â
At the door outside the house, Gojo stops you.Â
âHere.â he hands you the umbrella, fingers brushing yours, before reaching down to take his jersey off. You instinctively blush and look away, but considering your state of undress it would only be fair if you stole a glance. So you peek at him from the corner of your eyes.Â
You only manage to look just below his abs when something warm and slightly damp flops over your head.Â
âHey!â
He takes the umbrella back from you, standing in front of you and covering your back with the umbrella.. âPut that on before we head inside. Take your wet jersey off, hurry.â
Feeling warm despite the rain, you hastily pull off your soaked top, making sure heâs looking politely away, and throw his jersey on. Itâs still damp but not as drenched as your own. Looking down, it falls past your skirt and just above your knees.Â
âYouâre going to walk in shirtless?â
âBetter than you walking in looking like that.â He doesnât give you a moment to think about his words. âCome on, youâre going to catch a cold.â
He leads you to the now familiar front door and when it opens before Gojo can even touch the doorknob, you understand the reasoning of his actions.Â
âDude!â Hikari cheers, wrapping an arm round Gojoâs shoulders and eagerly pulling him in despite his grunt of protest. âCongrats on the win, man!â
Hikari quickly notices your presence.Â
âOh. So youâre already celebrating, huh?â
Gojo brushes past him, his hand holding tours to guide a path through the sweaty frat boys. âShut it, Hikari. Is Sukuna in?â
âNah. The whole floorâs gone.â Hikari answers, raising his voice as Gojo quickly places distance between him and you.Â
When the door of his room closes behind you both, he turns and pulls you in, his hand falling down on your hips, pulling you close. You both look like wet dogs but you couldnât care less.
âSorry about them,â he mumbles against your hair.Â
âItâs fine,â you pause. âWho's Sukuna?â
âThe guy in the room next to mine.â
âOh.â
He hesitates, searching your eyes in the dark of his room. The storm rages on beyond his window, rain entering through a slightly ajar window, but neither of you make the responsible move to close it. Instead, you find yourself pressing up against him, hoping for more.Â
âSweets,â he says, his voice low. âPlease donât tell me this is still practice.â
âItâs not.âÂ
He takes a deep breath in. âYou piss me off. Youâre annoying, and insistent, and you always get what you want.â
You frown a little. âHold on, I thought this was going a different way.â
He shushes you by placing a finger against your lips. âYou never listen to me and you never act how I think you will. Youâre definitely not normal and your thoughts are all weird and messed up. But youâre always in my head and you have the prettiest smile and the softest voice and when you tell me to shut up I want to drop to my knees and lick your feet.â
âOkay, itâs definitely getting weird now.âÂ
âI think Iâm seriously doomed,â he whispers despite your protests. âBecause I bought that coffee you gave me months ago and I still drank it even though I hated how it tasted. And I havenât been able to get it up without thinking about you and those pretty lips.âÂ
âNow I see why you donât do relationships.â
Gojo chuckles, eyes unbearingly soft. âI think Iâm in love with you, Y/N. Youâre all I can think about.âÂ
You let out a slow exhale.Â
This was not how you imagined any of this. That day when you sat down with Shoko to plan a devious scheme to get with Geto, you naturally assumed it would end with him by your side, or with a crippling inability to reassimilate with society.Â
Never in a million years did you think youâd be here, in Gojoâs enormous room inside a frat house, him hanging off your every word.Â
But thinking on it now, thereâs nothing you want to change in your plan.Â
âI think Iâm in love with you too,â you say just as quietly, a smile playing on your lips.Â
âReally?â If he had dog ears, they would have surely perked up. âBecause I was lying, I definitely donât just think that.â
âWoah, letâs calm down a little.â
He chuckles, breath misting your face.Â
His thumbs rub circles and you shiver at the faint sensation.
âCold?â
You bite the lip and nod. Now that youâve confessed, the forbidden desire building up in your core no longer feels like something you need to hide. Instead, you embrace it, and you let Gojo see the change in your eyes.Â
He nods back, looking down at his jersey on you.Â
âYou should probably take this off or youâll get sick.âÂ
You grab the bottom of his shirt and pull it over your head, leaving you in just your bra. You mentally fist bump your past self for overthinking your attire earlier that morning and throwing on a matching set.Â
His pupils dilate as he looks at you, eyes lingering on the delicate lace.Â
âAm I moving too fast?â He whispers, breath misting your ear as he leans in.Â
You rapidly shake your head, heart pounding in your chest. The air between you crackles with tension, the rain pattering against the window like a distant drumbeat.Â
He sighs, a low, relieved sound that vibrates through his chest. âGood. Câmere.â
He backs you up against the door, the wood cool against your bare back. His hands slide up your sides as he traps you. The guise of getting you out of wet clothes feels like a thin excuse now, but you donât mind, your own hands already tugging at his waistband, eager to feel more of him.Â
Gojoâs lips crash into yours, hungry and demanding, his tongue sweeping in to claim your mouth. You kiss back just as fiercely, fingers digging into his shoulders as you push against him, guiding him backward step by step. He stumbles slightly, surprised by your assertiveness, but a smirk tugs at his lips against yours.Â
He falls onto the couch with a soft thud, pulling you down on top of him. You straddle his lap, only because itâs the only position youâve had experience with thus far, and the friction of his hardening cock against your core sends sparks through your body. Your mouths meet again in a heated makeout, tongues tangling, breaths mingling in short, desperate gasps.Â
His hands roam your back, unhooking your bra with practiced ease, letting it fall away. You arch into him, pressing your bare breasts against his chest, nipples hardening from the contact.Â
âFuck, youâre so hot like this,â he growls, nipping at your lower lip. âWhere were you hiding all of this, hm?â
You shiver, fingers digging into his shirt. âYou like it when I tell you what to do, donât you? Big bad frat boy, already so hard because a girlâs got you pinned.â
He groans, hands gripping your ass to grind you against him. âKeep talking like that, and I'll show you whoâs really in control.â
But you donât stop. Instead, you push him back further into the cushions and trail your lips down his jaw, his neck, biting lightly to mark him. He lets you, for now, his breath hitching.Â
His eyes look down your body, hands feeling the softness of your skin before resting at the waistband of your cute, little skirt. He smirks and before you know it, youâre torn from his neck because he flips you onto your back in one swift move, pinning your wrists above your head.Â
âMy turn,â he purrs, voice rough.Â
You try to wriggle free. âWhat are you doing?â
âYou've always had a thing against my tongue, havenât you?â
âThat was weeks ago, I don'tâwait a minute!â Your hands find his head, trying to push him back up but he refuses, settling properly between your legs and lowering.Â
âRelax.â He turns his head and kisses your palm, eyes on yours. âI'll make you feel good. I always do, don't I?â
You hesitate, your arms losing their strength as the tension eases from your body. He watches you carefully, his gaze soft yet intense, making sure youâre okay before he moves. With a gentle nod from you, he lifts the edge of your skirt and flips it up onto your stomach, groaning low at the sight of the damp spot on your panties.
âSo cute,â he hums, his free hand sliding between your legs to rub at the numb poking out through the fabric. âThis little clitâs begging for attention.âÂ
You let out a startled gasp, hips bucking up involuntarily at the sudden touch. Itâs all still so new, the sparks of pleasure shooting through you like electricity.Â
âYou want my mouth on this pretty pussy, donât you?â He murmurs, lowering to mouth against your panties.Â
His warm breath seeps through the thin material, and the flat of his tongue presses against you, exploring with teasing pressure thatâs not quite enough to satisfy the ache building inside.Â
You jolt again, the sensation overwhelming, back bowing slightly as if to instinctively pull away. He doesnât let you go far, his hand on your thigh tightening to pull you back against his mouth.Â
âI know, I know,â he coos against you. âIt's too much, isnât it?â
You whimper, looking down and feeling a fresh surge of heat when you meet eyes with him.Â
âThatâs it, just feel it,â he encourages, his thumb stroking your thigh in slow circles.Â
Finally, he draws your panties to the side and doesnât waste another second.Â
Gojoâs mouth descends on your pussy, tongue flicking out to lap at your clit.Â
You gasp sharply, hips bucking up as he sucks the sensitive nub between his lips, rolling it gently. His hands hold your thighs apart, fingers digging into your skin to keep you open for him. He eats you out like heâs starved, tongue delving inside you, tasting your wetness then circling back to your clit with firm, insistent strokes.Â
âOh god,â you choke out, the words tumbling from your lips in a breathless rush. âFuck, itâs tooâfuck itâs so good!âÂ
With your hands free, you curl your fingers in his soft white hair, guiding him exactly where the pleasure feels strongest. It's your first time feeling anything like this, and the intensity builds fast, a coiling heat thatâs overwhelming but addictive.Â
He hums against you, the vibrations making you whine as his tongue thrusts in and out, mimicking whatâs to come, stretching you open with wet, probing motions.
âMmm, taste so fucking sweet,â he growls between licks, pulling back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your folds. âYouâre clenching so hard alreadyâgonna finger fuck you open so you can take my cock later.â
He adds a finger, sliding it inside your slick heat slowly, curling it to brush against that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. âThat's it baby, feel how wet you are for me? so tight around my finger, imagine how youâll squeeze my dick when I'm buried deep.â
You nod frantically, the haze of pleasure making it hard to form words.Â
He senses your building release, slipping a second finger inside to stretch you further, scissoring them gently to prepare you while his mouth latches back on your clit, sucking harder. âCome on, cum for meâwanna taste you so fucking bad, sweets. I want to feel you shake.â
The orgasm hits you like a wave, crashing over your body without warning. you cry out, back arching off the surface beneath you as your pussy clenches around his fingers, pulsing with release. He doesnât stop, lapping at you through it, drawing out every shudder until youâre boneless and gasping for air, his tongue coaxing every last tremor from your oversensitive folds.Â
Gojo pulls back slowly, a string of saliva still connecting to you until he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he crawls up your body.Â
âFuck, you taste like heaven,â he murmurs, leaning in for a deep kiss and letting you taste yourself on his lips.Â
You kiss back weakly making him chuckle, and he pulls back with a wet chu.Â
âYou okay?â
You nod weakly. One moment youâre catching your breath on the couch, the next heâs lifting you over his shoulder and laying you down on his bed.Â
You yelp, feeling gravity turn on its head until youâre safely on his mattress.Â
Watching as he eagerly strips, you say, âYou got a bedframe.â
He grins widely, shimmying down his boxers to join his sweatpants on the floor. âYeah, I did. Do you like it?â
You huff. âYeah. About time, Satoru.â
Gojoâs smile is oddly bright as he gets on the bed and hovers over you. He shifts, propping himself up on his elbows, his blue eyes darkening as they fixate on your chest. Without a word, he moves down, his mouth hovering just above your skin before he presses his face into the soft valley of your tits, inhaling deeply as if savouring your scent.Â
âGod, I love these things.â he groans, voice muffled, his lips brushing the sensitive underside. âSo goddamn perfect. Feel how hard you make me just staring at them?â
You squirm, indeed feeling his cock throb against your leg. âYouâre such an animal.â
âI can't help it. Been thinking about these ever since last time.â He peeks up at you though heâs still hesitant to part with them completely. âCan i fuck them?â
Your nod is all the consent he craves. He straddles your waist carefully and guides his thick length to rest in the plush channel youâve created by pressing your breasts together. The first slide is torturously slow, the velvety skin enveloping him as he rocks forward, the tip emerging shiny with precum near your collarbone.Â
âShit, yes,â he hisses, hips snapping in a shallow rhythm. âSo soft, so fucking warm around me. Look at that, sweets. Your tits are hugging my dick like they were made for it.â
His voice drops lower, rough with building pleasure, each word punctuated by the slick glide of skin on skin.Â
You watch him, mesmerised by the concentration etching his features, brow furrowed, lips parted as he pants. Sweat beads on his forehead and trickles down his temples as his abs flex with every controlled push. The friction builds between your tits, his precum smearing across your skin, making the slide even smoother and more obscene.Â
He glances down to watch his cock disappear and poke out from your cleavage. âOpen your mouth for me, baby.â
âSweets,â you remind him.Â
He lets out a stifled groan, hips jerking forward. âSweets, please. Let me see your pretty tongue. Want it on my tip when i come through so fucking bad.âÂ
The nickname sends a thrill through you, and you part your lips obediently, flattening your tongue in invitation. He groans at the sight, hips stuttering as he angles higher, the flushed head of his cock brushing your waiting mouth on the next thrust.Â
âFuck, just like that,â he rasps. âYour tongue feels so good lapping at me like that. Swirl it around, taste how much I want you. God, sweets, youâre killing me.âÂ
You do, tracing the sensitive underside when he pushes forward, the salty tang of him flooding your senses. His reaction is immediate, a deep, guttural moan escapes him, his rhythm faltering as he jerks deeper, chasing the wet heat of your mouth.Â
âCan't get enough,â he growls, drawing back only to thrust again, his tip kissing your tongue with deliberate precision and drawing back a sticky string of his precum and your saliva. âGonna fuck your mouth next, stuff it full of my cock until youâre choking on it. You'd take it so well, wouldnât you? Suck me down like the greedy little thing you are.âÂ
Saliva pools on your tongue and drips down to mix with the mess on your chest. He watches it all with hooded eyes, rutting faster now, the slap of his hips against your breasts echoing softly in the room.Â
âFuck, sweetsâgonna cum,â he warns through gritted teeth, his forehead creasing in that pretty, desperate way. âCanât hold back with you squeezing me like this. Shit, iâm gonna paint you, mark every inch of these pretty tits.â
He lurches forward suddenly, back bowing as he towers over you, one hand bracing beside your head while the other strokes his base to control his release. The first hot spurt lands across your neck, thick and warm, followed by another that arches toward your open mouth. He aims with a focused groan, pressing down on the head to guide it, ropes of cum landing on your tongue, filling your senses with his taste.Â
âTake it, thatâs a good girl,â he pants, voice breaking on a final, shuddering thrust. âLook at you, covered in me. So fucking hot, dripping with my cum on your face and tits.âÂ
His body quakes through the aftershocks, eyes never leaving yours, drinking in your reaction as he milks every drop onto you.Â
When heâs spent, he collapses forward slightly, catching himself on his forearms to avoid crushing you and leans down.Â
Your lips meet his in a deep, unhurried kiss, tongues tangling slow and sweet at first, then hungrier as you melt into it. The taste of him, salty from earlier, mixed with the faint tang of your own arousal, ignites you, and you tug him down, hands roaming his shoulders, feeling the flex of muscle under sweat damp skin. A soft moan escapes you, and he swallows it, his grip tightening just a fraction.Â
He pulls back and pants against your lips, half laughing.Â
âSorry, I should have warned you. Kind of not the most virgin friendly thing to do, huh?â He sits up and reaches for some tissue to clean you. âShould of saved this for inside you, sweets.â
You clench, squeezing your thighs together. âIâve neverâŚâ
His eyes soften, wiping the last of his cum. âI know, sweets. We can wait if you need to, thereâs no rush.â
But curiousity and want is a dangerous cocktail and you find yourself shaking your head. âI want to.âÂ
Gojo lets out a shuddering breath and nods, sliding off your chest, his cock glistening and heavy against his thigh. âLet me get you warmed up again.â
He doesn't find much difficulty with that because one hand against your slit and his eyebrows are rising, feeling your wetness despite the lack of attention.Â
You blush, feeling caught. âWhat? Donât look at me like that, itâs embarrassing.â
âWhatâs got you so wet, hm?â
You squirm, feeling the lingering pleasure flare up. âItâs not my fault youâre so vocal.â
âDirty girl. You like hearing how good you make me feel?â His thumb smears your entrance, picking up and spreading the fresh arousal that gathers there and itâs as good as any verbal answer. âFeel that? So worked up with nowhere to go.â
His fingers part you gently, circling your entrance with feather-light strokes that make you gasp.Â
âLet me warm you up again, sweets. Youâre so swollen here, feels like youâve been waiting for more. Gonna make sure youâre nice and ready for me.â
He plays with the mess between your legs, his own expression a mix of hunger and restraint, breaths coming in measured pulls as he fights the urge to rush. One finger dips inside you shallowly, then two, curling just right to brush that spot that sends sparks up your spine.Â
The stretch is easier now, your body remembering the pleasure, and he coos softly at your soft whimper, thumb finding your clit to rub in slow, firm circles.Â
âShit, youâre so tight,â he groans quietly, voice rough around the edges. âSo warm and wet, itâs killing me not to slide in right now. But weâre taking our time, yeah? Making this perfect for you.â
Your hips rock instinctively into his hand, the coil of heat tightening low in your belly, and he grins, leaning in to pepper kisses along your jaw.Â
âLook at you, getting into it. My sweet girl, so responsive.â
You whine, the pleasure having reached a plateau and when you buck up for more, he withdraws his hand. The loss makes you whine but he hushes you with a gentle kiss to your forehead, reaching over to the nightstand and searching through his messy drawers for a condom.Â
The foil crinkles under his fingers as he tears it open and positions himself at your entrance. You're still slick, heâs made sure of that, but the anticipation makes you clench, nerves building up. He notices your sharp inhale and lets his tip nudge your slick folds, parting them teasingly though he pauses there to let you feel the pressure without pushing in.Â
âHey, eyes on me, sweets,â he murmurs, voice steady despite the way his chest heaves, his cock twitching against you. âYou still okay? Tell me if itâs too much, Iâll stop, I promise. But fuck, Iâd be lying if I said I didnât want to be inside you.â
âIâm okay,â you whisper breathlessly, fingers curling into the sheets below. âJust⌠go slow?â
He notices and slides a hand down to interlace your fingers, bringing your hand up to his lips and placing a soft kiss to your palm. âOf course. Whatever you want.âÂ
The stretch is immediate, a slow burn as he guides himself in, sinking bit by bit. His cock is much thicker than his fingers but the warmth of him, the way he watches every flicker of your expression with that twitch in his jaw, makes it bearable.Â
âFuck, youâre so fucking tight,â he rasps, eyes shutting briefly. âGripping me so good already. Easy, sweets, just relax into it.â
His voice cracks a little on the end, his fingers digging into your skin as he holds himself still once heâs halfway in.Â
It aches, but the fullness is intoxicating, waves of pleasure chasing the discomfort as your body yields. You gasp, squeezing his hand and he coos softly, stroking you with his thumb.Â
âCan I keep going?âÂ
You nod and even before your next breath, heâs already sliding in and bottoming out with a shared gasp, hips flushed against yours. His forehead rests against yours, breaths mingling in the humid air.Â
"How's that feel? Too much?â He asks softly.Â
âFull⌠so full,â you whimper, rocking experimentally and he hisses through his teeth, hips bucking up just a fraction before he catches himself.Â
âFuck, want me to move, sweets?â He shifts beneath you, guiding your hips in a gentle circle to grind against you, his praises making the movement slick.Â
âPlease,â you gasp out as the fullness sparks pleasure deep inside and he rewards your honest words with a slow roll of his hips.Â
âGood girl,â he praises, voice dropping to a gravelly whisper as he starts to move, shallow thrusts that build a steady friction. Each slide in and out drags against your inner walls, drawing out filthy whimpers and sighs as he hits that sweet spot with precision born of his experience.Â
Soon, your toes are curling and your back bows off his mattress, desperate to meet his thrusts.Â
âListen to those sounds youâre making,â he coos, emphasising his words with a deep thrust. âYouâre taking me so well, sweets. Makes me want to stay buried in your forever.â
The pace gradually quickens, his control fraying at the edges as your moans encourage him. He shifts the angle, one leg hooking over his shoulder to deepen the penetration, and the new position has you crying out, pleasure coiling tight in your core.
Sweat beads on his skin, dropping onto your chest and he leans down to capture a nipple between his lips, sucking gently as he thrusts harder, the wet slap of skin echoing softly.Â
âThatâs it, let go for me,â he urges against your tits, teeth grazing the peak before soothing it with his tongue. âI can feel you squeezing, you close for me already? Come on, sweets, chase it.â
His words weave through the haze, dirty and devoted, spurring you higher as his freehand slips between you to circle your clit in time with his hips. The dual sensations overwhelm, building to a peak that has you trembling beneath him.Â
When it hits, itâs blinding, your orgasm crashing over you in waves, walls clenching rhythmically around him and pulling him deeper. He groans your name like a prayer, thrusts stuttering as rides it out with you, prolonging the bliss with expert rolls of his hips.Â
Only when you slump, sweaty and panting, does he let himself follow, a filthy groan escaping his lips as he buries himself deep one last time and spills into the condom, body shuddering as he struggles to hover over you.Â
He doesnât pull away immediately, instead pressing his hips closer to ensure youâve gotten everything before collapsing half on top of you, peppering lazy kisses along your neck.Â
âYouâre amazing,â he whispers. âMy perfect girl, did so good for us.â
You whimper against the ticklish sensation. âYou're too heavy.â
He chuckles and rolls off you, slowly pulling out to pull the condom off and discard it. you watch him with sleepy eyes, eagerly nuzzling into his arms when he settles back beside you.Â
âNeed anything? Water? Cuddles?âÂ
You hum, feeling the satisfaction morph into a drowsiness that has you melting into his arms, only feeling his warmth.Â
âYou?â
He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. âIâm so glad I stole you away. Youâre so fucking perfect for me.âÂ
You lean into his side, feeling a sense of indescribable completeness that fills you with certainty.Â
Geto Suguru may have been everyoneâs first love but Gojo Satoru is the one you choose.Â
And judging by the way his arm tightens around you, the way his grin softens when he looks down at you, he knows it too.Â
Geto Suguru is everyoneâs first love.
Even to this day, your friends will roll their eyes and insist that canât possibly be true. But from experience, that was exactly who he was, someone to admire from afar like a painting behind glass. Beautiful and alluring, and just out of reach.Â
You see him now up, sitting on the couches at the house party driving the murmur of conversation with ease, a red cup used to gesture. Laughter ripples outward in waves, people leaning closer, drawn in.
You smile out of solidarity, resting against the wall with content misplaced at a busy place like this.Â
âDid you wait long?â
You turn your head to find your boyfriend weaving through bodies with the casual confidence of someone who assumes space will make itself around him. Two drinks in hand, hair messy under his cat, grin already forming because heâs caught you staring.Â
You push off the wall, reaching automatically for whichever cup is closer but he pulls back to sniff both before handing you the opposite one.
You take it gratefully and when you take a sip, you realise itâs your favourite juice.Â
âWait time longer than the lines at Universal,â you tease.Â
He grins, leaning down to kiss your forehead. âNext time I'll get us the priority pass. Not that it looked like you minded the wait. Donât think I didn't see you eyeing Suguru like that. Do I have competition again?â
You shove him playfully. âPlease, like I'm the one whoâs been draping themselves over him for the past hour.â
Across the room, Geto laughs again, someone hanging off his shoulder while he tries to keep the liquid in his cup from spilling. He catches your eye briefly and lifts his cup in greeting. You return it with a smile.
Next to you, Gojo sighs dramatically.
âWow,â he says flatly. âRight in front of me too. Why canât I see any remorse in your eyes?â
âBecause there isnât any there,â you snort. âYou're the one who told him to come tonight.â
âWhere thereâs Satoru, thereâs Suguru.â
âI learnt that the hard way.â
He hums, arm sliding around your waist to pull you flush against his side. His thumb starts tracing lazy circles just above your hip, absentminded and affectionate, a touch so familiar you barely notice as you lean into him in return.
âStill,â he murmurs, quieter now, his breath warm against your cheek. âYou donât have to keep looking at him like that.â
âLike what?â
âLike youâre thinking about what you could have had.â
You tilt your head to look up at him. His expression isnât jealous, not completely, just searching, softer than the bravado he usually wears.
âI'm not,â you promise gently. âIt was always superficial. You know that better than anyone. I guess now, looking at him is like looking at a relic of a different version of me.â
He hums. âHe would have liked that sentence.â
You roll your eyes, ever so familiar with his dramatics. âYou have nothing to worry about, baby. I promise.â
âYeah?â
âYeah.â You reach up and adjust the brim of his cap slightly, smoothing down a piece of hair that refuses to stay put. âBesides, I think I traded up.â
âKeep talking like that and I'm going to start thinking you actually like me,â he grins, voice lowering.
You smack his chest but your other hand lingers in his hair, fingers slipping into the soft hair at his nape. "Don't get cocky.â
Too late. He's already smiling wide, not the loud, flashy grin everyone else gets, but something softer and almost boyish reserved just for you.
Gojo leans down and finds your lips. The kiss is slow and unhurried, deeper than something meant for a crowded room but not quite indecent, like heâs forgotten where you are or just doesnât care.
He pulls back just enough to talk. âHey, I have an idea thatâll solve this three way jealousy.â
âWhat?"
âWhy donât we just have a threesome?â
a/n: i had to repost this because i realised i could fit everything into one post but holy hell reformating everything made me wanna die so please smash that like button hit subscribe and don't forget to turn on that notification bell ++ shoutout to flatline and happy pokemon day to those who celebrate
content: the notorious fuckboy suddenly stopped sleeping around and nobody knows why. its totally not because heâs been secretly running around with someone thatâs almost a decade older and is embarrassed to be seen with him in public || MDNI, fem!reader, age gap (gojoâs 20-21 readers late 20s), smut, porn w/ plot, fuck buddies, secret relationship(?), gojo plays rugby đŤŚ, readers lw so embarrassed to be seen with him LMAO, date crashing, he also calls her drunk to tell her he misses her, he's an unhinged little shit
notes: hiiii im so sorry to the ones that asked to be tagged, ive been swamped with schoolwork and im exhausted đ 11.9k words today, enjoy the read đââď¸â¤ď¸
Satoru has lived his life quite simply these past few monthsâ just school, training, and games.Â
Everyoneâs gotten on his case about itâ mainly just questioning him, but there are moments like yesterday, when he got accused of going through a crisis of some sort over his sexuality. Or last month, when the entire frathouse got together in the living room and tried to have some intervention, thinking he had depression or some other shit.Â
He doesn't. Heâs also not very worried about his sexuality.Â
Itâs crazy because he really hasnât changed that much. He just hasnât brought anyone over. Or gone out on dates. Or made out with anyone at parties. Anything related to girls, he hasnât taken much part in.Â
But thatâs it! Thatâs all!
He still goes to parties, still has good grades, still goes to practice, and still wins games. Heâs just as presentâ heâs just not fucking anybody, and now everyone thinks heâs dying because of it.Â
Assholes.Â
Heâs fucked half the school, for all they knew, he couldâve just been giving his dick a break! He wasnâtâ but he could be, and that wouldnât be anybody else's business but his own. Heâs a grown man, despite many individuals begging to differ.
Whatever, fuck them.
Funny thing about it all is nobody seems to have noticed that heâs out of the house at certain hours throughout the week. Consistently. So really, itâs on them for not trying hard enough to find answers to their invasive little questions.Â
Hm. Actually, no. On the off chance that they do ask what heâs up to on a night like tonight, heâll just lie, say heâs at the gym or something. Heâs not exactly allowed to tell, which is fine; heâs more than willing to keep a little secret.Â
That little secret was tucked away in a nice apartment that had a view of the entire city. A tranquil little place when heâs not around, heâs pretty sureâ just not when heâs around.
The bedâs steadily rocking underneath the uneven weight Satoru creates. Relentless smackingâ skin to skin, hips to ass, the dirty little squelch that comes with it.Â
Thereâs a view, but itâs not the city.Â
âArch that back some moreâ yeaahhh, just like that.â
He pounds into you, balls hitting heavy against your clit as he pulls you back to meet each thrust. Moans spill from your lips, taking every single inch he drills into you. The stretch is insane as he works his heavy cock in and out of you like itâs nothing.Â
If thereâs one thing about him, itâs that he can fuck. He can go on for hours, put you in any position, have you begging and crying, dwindle you down to nothing but a babbling mess from how many orgasms he can work out of you.Â
He wears you out.Â
Yet still, at the end of every nightâ
âKayâ. Weâre done here, you can leave now.âÂ
You are so fucking mean.
The first time Satoru heard those words come out of your mouth, he was distraught. How dare you throw him out after the backshots he had given you?! He made you cum so hard you cried! Then you just throw him out of your apartment like some useless whoreâ like he was nothing but a fucking slut! He had more to offer than just his dick, heâll have you know.Â
Now heâs a little less emotional and moreâŚÂ
âYou sure? I could stay longer and help you with chores⌠or something.â
You look around your room, which is spotless aside from his t-shirt and jeans scattered on the floor. âSure. Why donât you start by picking up your clothes, putting them on, and then getting out?â
âOh, come on. Seriously?â he throws his head back and groans rather childishly. âThatâs a little rude, no?âÂ
âSo was the way you were talking to your little girlfriend on the phone earlier,â you hop off the bed and throw on a big t-shirt that said Modelo on it.Â
Satoru gets one final look at your ass as you do so and finds himself getting oddly jealous, wondering if the shirt was actually yours or if it belonged to an ex. He ends up telling himself itâs yours, ignoring that youâve told him how much you hated beer in the past. Delusional? Perhaps, but heâd rather not hurt his own feelings right now.
âCarmenâs not my girlfriend,â he huffs out a laugh as he tries to explain, âI donât even know why she called me. We havenât fucked in months.âÂ
He also tried to tell you that he hasnât slept with anyone since he started sleeping with you, but you didnât seem to care much about either. The entire time, you were just throwing his clothes at him while he absentmindedly got dressed. He continues to yap away once heâs up and fully dressed, so you grab him by the wrist and start walking towards the door.Â
âAnd you wouldnât believe all the shit the guys have given me for turning girls down. One of them started calling me Celibate Satoru, can you believe that?â
âI sure can.â You open the door, walk around him, and start pushing him out.Â
âThey donât even knowâ assholes, theyâd take it all back so fast if they saw you,â he huffs out a laugh, trying to cope with the fact that heâs not allowed to tell anybody about you two.Â
You laugh with him. âYou better hope they donât, âcause if they doââ
âYouâll bite my dick offâ yeah, yeah. I know.â You never said youâd bite his dick off. Satoru turns around when heâs fully out of the door to reveal the dopey grin on his face. âSo, same time next week?â
âYup! Bye Gojo.â
He scoffs. âI thought I told you to call me Saââ
He didnât get to finish that sentence. You shut the door in his face.Â
Gojo was a nice guy⌠at least to you, he was. Youâre sure a lot of others would say the complete opposite, judging by the way he snapped at the girl earlier for calling him and telling her to lose his number. You felt sorry for her and also felt thankful that you didnât have to deal with a guy like him when you were 21.Â
You tried not to reflect too much, itâd just end with you being disappointed in yourself for even letting him into your apartment in the first place. Itâs all for fun, but still, you should know better.Â
Satoruâs a piece of work. Comes from a family swimming in money and has never been told no in his life. Heâs impulsive. Very hedonistic, very immatureâ some people grow out of it, but you have a feeling heâll never change since heâs never had to work hard for anything in his life.Â
He is the last person youâd ever want to date, and for someone who usually dated older menâ preferably men like his rich fatherâ fucking a frat boy was just embarrassing on your part.
Itâs too bad heâs genuinely one of the best fucks of your lifeâ add in the dick piercing, the stamina that came with being a rugby player, and the fact that he spends every moment with you wanting to please you, and he was hard to get rid of.Â
You met Satoru at the gym. Youâd think heâd go to the one at his university, but no, he just had to get a membership at the luxury gym thatâs on the other side of town. The only reason why you chose to get a membership there, rather than the more affordable gym down the street, was so that you could avoid annoying ass kids.Â
Spoiler: It didnât work.Â
He didnât approach you right away. It started with a couple of stares here and there, all of which you pretended not to see since his attention was the last thing you wanted. You can admit that if he were a little older, you wouldâve indulged, but it was clear he was a college student, given how heâs worn t-shirts and hoodies with his universityâs name on them. Most professional settings wouldnât allow piercings eitherâ heâs covered in them. One on his nose, one on his eyebrow, multiple on his ears, and a tongue ring. Not to mention the one he surprised you with when he first came over.
Of course, pretending not to notice an attention whore like Satoru Gojo didnât work, and you soon found out just how annoyingly persistent he can be.
He started going to the gym at the same time as you. It felt like the machines he used just got closer and closer to you with each visit, up until he boldly used the treadmill right next to you one dayâ you werenât having that, by the way, and got off less than a minute later. You could be talking to a trainer or one of the staff members, and heâd shimmy his way into the conversation just to get you to look at him and say something, but his attempts were met with you excusing yourself.Â
It got to a point where he didnât even care about what was said, he just wanted your attention, good or bad. When he finally did get it, it was neither. You were tired of him before he even opened his mouth.Â
Imagine this: the annoying little shit coincidentally goes into the sauna at the same time as you, even though you couldâve sworn you saw him walking out the door with his duffle bag thrown over his shoulder. How he managed to strip down into nothing but his slutty little rugby shorts in so little time? You have no clue. His knee was all scraped up though, so it was safe to assume that he fell during the process.Â
You gave him a curt smile and closed your eyes.
He still opened his mouth.
âGreat sauna, isnât it?â
Did he just deepen his voice? Christ.
The awkward and pathetic attempt at small talk never made you want to murder yourself more in that moment. You tried not to sound as annoyed as you were when you let out a sigh.Â
âIt is,â you murmured back, closing your eyes again in hopes that would be the end of it.Â
It wasnât.Â
âI love coming hereâ nice little escape from everything,â he blissfully said.
You couldnât imagine what the hell that brat needed to escape from. If only you could say the same, youâve spent more time dodging him than you have working out the past three weeks.Â
âName's Satoru, by the way,â he flashed you a smile.Â
Youâre not a heartless wretch, so you threw him a bone and told him your name, too. Which was a mistake, the one thing youâve learned is to never feel sorry for Satoru, give him an inch and heâll shamelessly take a mile. Minutes later, youâre internally groaning. You hated how smooth he was when asking if you wanted to grab drinks later that night. All the charm and charisma that oozed out of him would put any narcissist to shame.Â
âDid you seriously follow me into the sauna just to ask me out?â
He had to pause because thatâs not what you were supposed to say, but he was too emotionally invested at that point to give up.Â
âMaybe,â he chirps, averting his gaze for a moment. âI swear I wasnât trying to be weird, though.â
You smile as your eyes scan him from top to bottom, more so out of judgment than interest. âStripping down into nothing but the male version of booty shorts isnât weird?â
âUghâ ok, yeah, fineâ maybe it is a little weird,â he sighs, throwing a towel over his shoulders as an attempt to cover up. âLet's just.. Forget about that. Yeah?â You continue to just stare at him, and he clears his throat. âIâd still love to take you out sometime and get to know you a little better. Whatcha think? My treat.â
Age doesnât matter, youâll fold too once you see what heâs hiding under his âbooty shortsâ. Everyone does.Â
You cross your arms and lean back on the wooden bench. âIâm sorryâ how old are you again?â
âIâm graduating this year,â he proudly says, making your face drop in disbeliefâ heâs well aware that heâs too young for you, and heâs still trying?
âRight.â The judgment in your tone was loud and clear, continuing to look at him as if he were a harmless spiderâ thereâs no fear or concern, just peeved at how it managed to find its way into your vicinity. âSo youâre 21âŚâ You tried pulling more information out of him, âsince thatâs the age you need to be to order a drink.âÂ
âSoon,â he continues to tiptoe around the truth. âEveryone knows me, though. Nobody's gonna check my I.D.âÂ
Besides, he has a fake. Heâs had one since he was 16.Â
âOh wow.âÂ
You still didnât sound very impressed, not that it stopped him. He somehow was able to go home with your number in his phone that day, mainly because he was starting to annoy you, and giving him your number was the easiest way to get him to stopâ harmless spider, remember? He was probably more of a gnat at that point, though, but harmless nonetheless.Â
From that point going forward, you ignored him at the gym and his text messages. You could go on your phone and scroll for a minute before seeing a text sent from your end. Now that you think about it, you only texted him back once.Â
Unknown Number:Â i feel like im being edged rn đ whatâs a man gotta do to get a text back??
You: typingâŚ
You:Â
You: typingâŚ
You:Â turn 21
Unknown Number:Â bet
You read that response and immediately regretted it.Â
He came back a month later, the day after his birthday, and you unfortunately gave in.Â
And by giving in, you met him halfway and asked if he wanted to come over. He was hot, but there was no way in hell you wanted to be seen in public with him. Being a man as easy as Satoru, he said yes and spent the entire night putting you in every single position heâs ever imagined having you in. You swear he hit every room on purposeâ just bending you over every surface and folding you up in every position.Â
Youâve never had someone throw you around that much before. He fucked you like it was some god-given right. You were so far gone that you wouldâve done anything he told you to; youâre just glad his only goal that night was to impress you.Â
And he did, hence why you are still letting him come over a couple of times a week. Maybe more, maybe less.Â
Heâs tried to get you to come over to his place before, to which you refused for obvious reasons, and berated him enough to make him never ask you a question as insulting as that ever again.Â
Heâs also tried to coordinate your gym visits in the past.Â
It was a month into whatever little arrangement you hadâ you say that because youâve never made an agreement, aside from telling him to never talk to you, talk about you, or approach you in public.Â
It would come as a surprise to no one if he spent the whole day there just waiting for you to show up.Â
He didnât even give you a chance to go into the locker and put your things away before attempting to walk up to you. You had just walked past the front deskâ head down, phone upâ and felt like there was something off, and what do you know? He was walking in a straight line towards you as if you hadnât banned him from speaking to you in public.Â
Luckily, the women's locker room was directly to your left, so you turned and walked there as fast as your legs could take you. You were pissed, slamming your duffel bag down onto one of the benches to spend a minute or two pacing back and forth. There was no way in hell you were going home, so you pulled up with messages with him and sent him a text.
You:Â Do not fucking embarrass me.
You:Â Donât even come near me. Â
S. Gojo:Â fine .
It wasnât another 20 minutes until you finally stepped out of the locker room, mostly ready to spend the next 30 minutes working out. Usually, itâs 45 minutes to an hour, but you gave yourself some grace, even though you really shouldâve been getting the most out of your membership with how pricey it was.
The first 20 minutes were fineâ peaceful. You ended up letting your guard down as you fell under the assumption that Satoru left, given how he was nowhere to be found. Then, 2 minutes into using the stairmaster, someone got on the one right next to you, despite the entire row being empty.Â
He was met with a scowl. The only response he had for it was throwing his palms out and grimacing right back at you, as if to say, Iâm not doing anything wrong.
Minutes later, heâs reaching over and grabbing your water bottle to take a sip from. Mind you, he already had one with him. It had more water in it than yours.Â
That was the moment you knew Satoru really wasnât shit.Â
He casually gave it back with a smile, trying to act all cute and be funny, so you sent your water bottle flying at his big head.Â
âOw!â he frowns, rubbing the side of his head, having absolutely no right to look as shocked as he did. âThat hurt!â
âSuck it up,â you snapped at him in a hushed tone. âYouâre lucky I didnât lodge it down your throat and drown you.â
âWhy would you do either?!â he threw his arms out.
âI donât knowâ why would you reach over and drink from my water bottle when you have your own?!â
âBecause I wanted water that had some of your backwash in it??â he says, as if it shouldâve been obvious.Â
To this day, you still donât know if he was trying to throw you off or if he was being serious.
âIf I hear one more word come out of your mouth while Iâm here, even if youâre 10 feet away and talking to someone else, Iâm fucking blocking you.â
â. . .â You could see the panic in his eyes as his face dropped. âOkayâ 10 feet away is fucking crazyââ
âStop. Talking.â
He opens his mouth, quickly decides heâd rather not find out if you were bluffing or not, and closes it.
You hated being strict with peopleâ you had no other choice but to be strict with Satoru. You could draw a line, explicitly tell him not to cross it and why, and heâd walk right up to it and tap his toe on the other side, just to see if youâd say anything.
With the way you talk about him and talk to him, itâd be easy to assume that you hated himâ you complain about the shit he does, you yell at him often, you look at him at times and start to wonder if he was just a sign sent by god to finally get therapy. But you donât dislike him, let alone hate him. Â
On the occasion that you donât kick him out right after you two fuck, heâs really not that bad to be around. If circumstances were different, you wouldnât mind being friends with him. Heâs easy to talk to, easy to get along with when heâs not actively and purposely fucking around and finding out. You honestly enjoy talking to him here and there.Â
Truly.
Except for when heâs talking about anything frat-related. More often than not, itâs dumb and genuinely a waste of your time to listen to. Not to mention the fact that you donât need any more reminders of who youâve been welcoming into your home.Â
You were pushing thirty for Christ's sake. It'd be one thing if he were just a one-night stand, but heâs not. He raids your pantry when youâre not looking and, on multiple occasions, has purposely left his boxers behind as some sort of parting gift.
Itâs gotten easier with timeâ the embarrassment that washes over you when he says something stupid, that is. Like whatever went down at some party he threw or some joke one of his âbrothersâ told him. Itâs still a waste of your time, but youâve grown to just let him talk about it rather than shut him down to avoid that pang of guilt you sometimes get when youâre around him.Â
Thereâs the disappointment and the embarrassment, and lately, thereâs the odd form of pity you have for him. Youâve always known you were going to have to let Gojo down one day and cut things off completely, youâre not quite sure how heâd take it, though.Â
There was some hope that heâd get bored with you and move on to someone new, but thatâs slowly diminishing. Heâs volunteered to get tested for STDs weekly and sends you the results. He hasnât slept with anyone else, either, which is shocking. Youâve gotten a glimpse of his phone and his messages, all of which were unopened texts from the girls heâs probably led on in the pastâ ignoring them all for a woman who does the same to him more than half the time.
Sometimes you wonder if he notices that, too. He has to. You say heâs stupid all the time, but heâs smarter than he lets on.Â
â
S. Gojo:Â howâs my pretty girl doing?? ((:
You:Â what do u want
S. Gojo:Â đdamn not even a question mark?? I didnât even ask u for anything đ
You:Â i can tell when u want something. now what is it
S. Gojo:Â can i come over after practice today? pretty please
S. Gojo:Â it ends at 3 today
You:Â im not even home
S. Gojo:Â ik i have a key
You:Â you took my spare key?
You:Â give it back
S. Gojo:Â today? (:
You:Â im not even home by then. I donât want u there, youâre gonna make a mess
S. Gojo:Â wtf? I never make a mess
You:Â what do you even wanna come over for
S. Gojo:Â i donât wanna be home later
You:Â why
S. Gojo:Â thereâs a few sorority girls coming over and they donât like me
You:Â why
S. Gojo:Â itâs just bc of some bet during freshman years
S. Gojo:Â theyâre not over it
You:Â pig
S. Gojo:Â i didnât even tell you what it was!
You:Â please donât
You:Â but ya, no. go to the library or something
S. Gojo:Â PLEEEEEAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEEE
S. Gojo:Â FUCK iâll have takeout ready for you when you get off work ffs
S. Gojo:Â have some compassion these bitches are gonna try to CHOP my DICK off PLEASE
You:Â maybe you never deserved one to begin with
S. Gojo:Â BRO???
You:Â kiddinggg
You:Â have some pad thai ready for me. I also expect the place to be vacuumedÂ
S. Gojo:Â i got u
S. Gojo:Â i can do your laundry too if you want
You:Â stop trying to sniff my panties you fucking freak
S. Gojo:Â ):
Youâre home at 5:15 on the dot, and youâre met with the lovely smell of all-purpose cleaner despite only telling Satoru to vacuum. So naturally, youâre in a good mood when you walk into the living room and hang your purse up in the hallway.Â
Satoruâs on the couch, turning to look at you and doing that stupid nod he does when he doesnât feel like verbally greeting someone.Â
You slip out of your heels and walk up. âDid you clean the kitchen?â
âA little,â he hums, taking the opportunity to pretty much eye fuck you since you donât pay much attention to him as you look into the kitchen.Â
âWhat do you want?â you ask suspiciously, turning to look at him lounging back on your couch, half-naked. Heâs got nothing but a pair of socks and rugby shorts on, and you canât help but take a look at his thighs. You donât ask why his titties are out on display, though, knowing heâd make a comment about how hard he worked cleaning the place.Â
âNothinâ,â he shrugs, feigning innocence. The slight twitch of his lip right after gives him away, not that you give it much attention. âHow was work?â
âLong,â you yawn. âSlow, tooâ felt like I was on my phone the entire time.â
He tilts his head, getting ready to fuck with you despite it not even being 5 minutes since you walked through the door. âAre you complaining about doing nothing at work today?â
âUh, yeah,â you mimic his tone. âI hate looking at the clock all day.â
He huffs out a laugh. âIâm gonna remember this the next time you complain about work being too busy.â
You smile and hum. âDo that, and Iâm shoving my socks down your throat.â
âKinky.â You start to walk away, and Satoru takes the opportunity to reach over the couch, biting his lip as he strikes a palm over your ass. âWhat else are you tryna do to me?âÂ
âChoke you,â you boredly say as you walk into your room, but end up smiling when you hear him laugh. You come out a couple of minutes later in a pair of shorts and a tank top. âWhereâs the food?â
âThe fridge,â he responds, seemingly distracted.Â
Only for him to grab your wrist right before you walk past behind him.Â
You whip your head around and click your tongue. âWhat?â you whine, eyes narrowing as you shoot him an irritated look.Â
âHow hungry are you right now?â he asks, tongue in cheek as he keeps a firm grip on your wrists.Â
âHungry enough.â
âStarving?â Thereâs an obnoxious glint in his eyes as he asks.Â
You scoff. âDoes it fucking matter?âÂ
âMmmmmm, a little.â He blatantly checks you out as he hums, not struggling to hold on to your wrist at all. He leans over the couch to get a better look at your shorts, his other hand reaching forward to snap your shorts against your skin. âI like these.â
âLet me guess, youâd like them better on the floor.âÂ
âSomething like thatâ come here,â He stifles a laugh, pulling you closer until you're up against the couch. He snakes an arm around your waist to keep you from leaving, pressing kisses all over your chest. âBeen waiting for you foreverâ give me a minute or two.âÂ
âYou expect me to believe itâll just be a minute or two?â You smile, trying to keep your breath from hitching as he gets closer to your neck.Â
âMhm. Itâs a lie, though.â He places one last kiss against your collarbone, then pulls a hum out of you as he licks a slow, fat stripe up your neck. He tops it off with a couple of kisses along your jaw before nipping at your ear. âHow about I work up that appetite a little, hm?â
Your lids grow heavy, each word growing breathier than the last with each kiss and touch. âMy stomachâs gonna start hurting.âÂ
âItâs fine,â he murmurs, running his big hand down your back to your ass, giving it a squeeze before his palm lands on it. âYou wonât be thinking about it.âÂ
He steps over the couch and starts nudging you towards your room, dick print against the fabric of his shorts on full display.Â
âNo?â
âNope,â the grin on his face grows, âIâll keep you distracted.â
And distracted you were.Â
Whining as you trembled and clenched around his cock while he worked it into you. Youâre at the edge of the bedâ bent over for him, back in the craziest arch as he gives you the deepest strokes. The round metal studs under his tip add the right amount of pressure as it drags over your gummy spot. Â
He leans back, suppressing a laugh at the sight of your fucked out face and the creamy ring already starting to grow around his base. Heâs barely done anything, but he wouldnât be surprised if he saw drool stains right where your face is pressed up against. Itâs always like this, your attitude just magically disappearing the moment he gets near your pussy. Doesnât matter if itâs his dick, his fingers, his tongueâ theyâve all made the miracle of getting you to say please happen.Â
âShit,â he curses under his breath, just mesmerized at the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you. His attention only gets pulled away once he hears a soft, drawn-out moan leave your lips, his hands unconsciously moving up to your hips for him to knead. âYou alright?â
âMhmâ go faster.â The demand sounds so sweet falling from your lips, how could he say no?
He rests a knee against the bed and leans over your body. Chest pressed up against your back, caging you in. You rest your head on his forearm, unknowingly letting him get a full view of the tears heâs about to give you. He picks up the pace, angling himself just right with each thrust, watching your eyebrows slightly pinch as your breathing picks up.Â
âCanât believe you wanted to wait for this,â he starts to poke fun at you, and it somehow goes straight to your core. âThe hell were you thinkinâ, huh?â
âI donât know,â you murmur.Â
âWere you thinking at all?â
âShut up.â You get whinier with the change of pace. âCan you justâ mmh yeah.â
âYeah?â He grins as you lose your train of thought, rolling his hips nice and slow, working his tip right over that spot that has you curling your toes. âLike that?â
âMhm,â you hum, fingers starting to dig into his bicep as the praises slowly fall from your mouth. âFeels so good.â
âI knowwâ youâre droolinâ on my arm already,â he stifles a laugh as he mocks you, brushing some hair out of your face to grab your chin, turning your head toward him.Â
He leans down to kiss you, and itâs nothing short of messy. It's all tongue and wet smacks once he held you down and crashed his lips into yours, just rough and hungry. Greed is what comes to mind once you pull awayâ lips all swollen and covered in spit, out of breath, heat creeping up your neck.Â
Itâs just selfishâ who grabs people like that?
The hand on your jaw wraps around your neck, and you soon find yourself taking in a sharp breath as Satoru crashes his lips into yours again. His hips continue to rock into you, grinding every inch of himself up against your gummy walls, trying to knock the air out of you as he tries to take it for himself.Â
He bites your bottom lip, and youâre giggling as he slowly pulls back, dying out at your throat once he gets back to work. His shallow thrusts grow deep, making your eyes start to glaze over as the fat head of his cock hits and rubs against a spot youâre sure only he can reach.Â
âReady?â he murmurs in your ear.Â
âWhat are youââÂ
He bites your bottom lip, then starts fucking you like you owed him your soul or something. He drills every single inch of his cock into you, the sharp sounds of his hips striking against your ass cutting through the air, nearly bringing you to tears from how overwhelming it all is.
âF-Fuck!â you choke out a whine, shoving your face down on the bed, unable to keep up with how fast heâs going. Your cunt stretches around his cock, walls fluttering and squeezing around his length as he pounds you into the bed. Low groans slip through his lips as he sees a mess of slick and cream starting to coat his shaft.
He goes faster. The obscene wet slaps of him pounding your pussy and his heavy balls slapping against your clit grow louder, messier. Youâre clawing at your sheets and holding back choked moans each time he slams his tip against your cervix. Your legs start to tremble, struggling to keep them open when each thrust pushes you forward with all the force behind them.Â
You start to feel something in your core begin to wrap up and coil, and you are not ready for it. You find yourself crawling forward, trying to close your thighs, all without even realizing it. Satoru lets out a laugh that fades into a low groan as your walls squeeze and tremble around him.Â
He teases you as he drags you back by your hips, his ragged voice dripping in amusement.
âYou running from me, baby? Whereâs this pussy goinâ, huh?â He nudges your thighs back apart with his knee, pulling you back on his cock and holding you in place, hips flush against your ass as he lazily grinds into you.Â
âYeah, c'mereâ mânot done with you yet.â he rasps, picking up the pace back up again until a messy wet squelch can be heard between you as he pounds you out. He presses your back further down into an arch, fucking into you at a deeper angle. âMmmmâ there we goâ just stay right there for me.âÂ
âSaâ fuckâ t-toru!â Your breath shatters as you gasp, pressure starting to build all over again.Â
You donât see the way he smirks when you cry his name like that.
âI knowâ Mâsorry, baby.â
Heâs not. A hand slides up your spine to get a fistful of your hair, pulling you up against his chest in one swift go. His pace doesnât falter as a strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you against him while his lips graze the shell of your ear.Â
âLook how good Iâm fuckinâ you, thoughâ looks like youâre about to start crying.â He smiles, feeling you squeeze around him as the messy squelch in between your legs becomes more pronounced.Â
âT-too much,â you sputter out.
âYou should probably cum them,â he offers as if it were a simple solution. âIf you want, I can work it out of ya.â
âF-fuck,â you inhale sharply. âPlease.â
He lets out a low, pleased hum before he just starts slamming into you, making the bed shake as he starts to knock the absolute wind out of you. His free hand snakes down, slipping down in between your legs until the pads of his fingers find your clit. You tense as he presses on it firmly, breath faltering once he starts rubbing little circles.Â
His grip around your waist tightens as he keeps going, not minding your nails as they start scratching and digging into his arm. Soon youâre let out a sharp cry, trembling as you start gushing all over his cock.Â
And the way you pussy clamps down and just starts milking him has his thrust growing sloppy, fucking you both through it.Â
âFuckâ fuuck,â he lets out a breathy groan, doubling over and nearly squeezing you to death when he starts pumping you full of hot cum, flooding your sensitive walls. He breathes heavy, grinding against you, giving you every last drop. âShitâ that was so fuckinâ goodâ are you alright?âÂ
Youâre lying limp in his arms, nodding weakly, trying to catch your breath. âUh-huhâ
âYouâre so shaky right now,â he heaves, gently letting you down on the bed. âI fucked you good this time.â
âShut up,â you barely snap at him, âGo get me my food, I canât fucking walk right now.â
âFuckâ Iâm sorry. Donât kick me out.â
âGet me my fucking food.â
âYes, maâam,â he nods, putting his boxers on and walking out of your room with a little smile on his face.Â
. . .
Heâs leaning against the fridge as he lets his mind run off for a bit, aside from the microwave whirring in the background, itâs quietâ a rare occurrence for Satoru. He doesnât snap back to reality until he hears footsteps coming up behind him.Â
He looks over his shoulder to see you back in the clothes he nearly ripped trying to get off you. And that youâre walking perfectly fine.Â
âThought you couldnât walk,â he points at you, gesturing his finger up and down.
âSo did I,â you shrug, wrapping your fingers around the fridge handle and pulling it open to retrieve a white claw. You can physically feel Satoru staring at you, while something in your spirit is telling you that heâs waiting for you to offer him one.Â
You crack it open as you turn to look at him.Â
âCan I help you?â
He doesnât answer right away. Initially, his eyes drift to the drink in your hand and look at it quite longingly. âThat looks good.â
âIt is good,â you say, then obnoxiously take a sip. âPairs really well with noodles.â
âIâm sure.â His tones flat as he looks back at the drink.Â
You have no idea why heâs so set on waiting for you to offer him one, but you eventually do because youâd rather not get into some weird silent war with him. âWould you like one?â
âYes, I would,â he says with a blissful sigh, reaching into the fridge to get one for himself.Â
The microwave beeps, you open it, and take the plate out yourself. âYou know you can just grab one, right?â
The can cracks and he takes a sip, then nods. âI know, I just wanted you to offer me one.â
âYeah, you made that pretty obvious,â you laugh and walk to the living room, and Satoru naturally follows. âDo you want some of my food, too?â
âNoâ appreciate you asking, though.â
âSure,â you say, before muttering, âweirdo.â
Heâs the first one to grab the remote and put something on, taking advantage of the fact that you havenât pushed him out yet, like you do 60% percent of the time. The 40% is too random for him to be able to tell when itâll happen next.Â
You werenât planning on kicking him out too soon today, though, since heâs currently hiding from an entire group of women.
âWait, so what did you do to get those girls to hate you?â
âGot dared to homie hop.â He casually shrugs, taking a sip from the can. âOver the course of one weekend.â
âWhat is wrong with you?â you ask with the utmost disappointment.Â
He points to himself. âIn my defense, I was 18.â
âI guess.â You stifle a laugh before feeding yourself another fork full of food. âIâm surprised they still hate you that much.â
âYeah, I got dared to do it again last year,â he finally mentions, just as casual as the last time.Â
You pause for a moment as you try to think of an answer. You never do. âYeah, I think Iâd hate you, too.âÂ
He delusionally brushes you off. âYou wouldâve loved me. Iâm a great friend.â
There's a contemplative look on your face as you tilt your head, thinking of all heâs revealed to you about himself, which is probably just a 3rd of all heâs done. âIâm sure you are.â
âI am,â he scoffs.Â
âYeahâ thatâs what I said.â You laugh, wiping the side of your mouth off with a napkin before throwing it on the empty plate, getting up to put it away.
You're in the kitchen when Satoru raises his voice to say something to you.Â
âI am your friend, right?â he asks.Â
You close the dishwasher and walk back out into the living room, thereâs a slight pout on his face as he walks for an answer.Â
âYeah,â you let out an amused sigh. âYouâre my special friend.â
âYeah?â He sinks further back into the sofa, looking more pleased. âSpecial enough to talk to outside of here?âÂ
âFuck no,â you say with zero hesitation, wiping the smile off his face again. âYou wouldnât be special anymore. Is that what you want? You wanna be an average normie?â
There are two things in this world that Satoru would never want to beâ average and poor.
He crosses his arms and scoffs. âYou really know how to turn a situation around on other people, donât you? Thatâs pretty evil, yâknow that?â
You feign innocence, looking at him all concerned. âI have no idea what youâre talking about.âÂ
âWhatever,â he rises from his seat, accepting your evil nature and his role as your special little slut. âCan we shower together?â
You give a bored look, knowing heâs gonna try to get you to scrub his back. âFine.â
. . .
Tonightâs just like every other Friday night. The bass of the music bouncing off the walls, loud conversations happening in every direction. Most people are having a good time, while some are crying their eyes out over something thatâll seem minuscule a couple years from now. The only thing thatâs changed is Satoru hasnât, and most likely won't, bring a girl up to his room tonight.Â
For once, all of his attention is on playing his fifth round of beer pong.Â
The guys will still give him shit for the sudden change, but it was never a bad thing, just odd. Theyâve given up on theories as to why after realizing Satoru really wasnât going to cave and tell them this time around. Not even Suguru. He doesnât need to ask, though, he knows Satoru is fucking someone. With how secretive heâs been though, heâs most likely sneaking around with someone thatâll get him in trouble if word gets out. Like the wife of one of his father's very affluent and important friends, perhaps? It was on brand for him.
It wasnât that serious. Suguru will find out, eventually. He just hopes it doesnât end badly for his friend thatâs brought enough scandals for his family, being the problem child heâs always been. Hell, heâs being problematic right now, pulling Suguru out of his thoughts as some poor girl tugs on Satoruâs shirt.
Suguru has no idea what she said to him, but he steps in a little closer, pretending to focus on the game as he listens to whatever his friend has to say. Satoru barely looks at her and responds, not only rudely, but with quite possibly the most ridiculous words Suguru has ever heard come out of his mouth.Â
âSorry, sweetheartâ I like my women a little more grown.âÂ
Mind you, they were in the same year.Â
She laughs, thereâs still stars in her eyes as she looks at him. âWait, what?â
He shortens it. âMânot interested.â
âWhy?â she asks, eyes growing dull.Â
And Satoru, having already lost his patience, takes a step back and looks at her from head to toe, looking for another reason. Itâs quite embarrassingâ standing there and waiting for someone to figure out what they donât like about you.Â
âYeaah, no.â He takes another look at her. âYou just donât do it for meâ sorry.â
Youâd think itâd be fine since he didnât point out any of her features, but being told you âdonât do itâ for someone that youâve already fucked doesnât feel very good, nor does realizing that he completely forgot that they have, multiple times. Heâs gotten drunk and fucked a lot of people. Keyword: Drunk. He doesnât remember most of the time, hence his initial confusion when she threw a drink in his face.Â
Unfazed, he wipes the remnants of her drink off his face, throwing her off in the process as he treats it like itâs a common occurrence and that heâs used to it (heâs very used to it).
âYou just proved my fuckinâ point,â Satoru says, still unimpressed as he takes his shirt off and continues to casually wipe himself off. âGrow up.â
The comment makes her realize he was being dead serious with his original reason for rejecting her, even though he had zero problem with fucking her at the beginning of the year. âOh fuck you, Gojo,â she ends up cursing at him as she storms off, furious and embarrassed.
âYeahâ not happening!â he laughs and yells back loud enough for her to hear.
Suguru just laughs because fucking called it. He totally was seeing someone older, and Satoru's response gave it away. Suguru doesnât mention it, though. âYou coulda been a little nicer, yâknow?â
âWhatever,â he waves him off, knowing he couldâve been ruder, but chose not to. âIâll probably never see her again after graduation, anyway.â
Suguru shrugs. âYou never know.â
Satoru ruffles his hair with the semi-damp t-shirt in his hand, wondering why his friend decided to embrace his inner Gandhi when heâs just as bad as him. Satoru literally watched him tell a girl to stop crying after he cut things off with her, then added salt to the wound by giving her some speech about how she wouldnât run after a snake and explain how being bitten made her feel. Suguru wasnât technically wrong, but he did not have to say all that. With that being said, he wasnât in the mood to listen to Suguru lecture him any more though, and lets the comment go.Â
âIâm gonna go wash the rest of this shit off,â he says, referring to the sheer pink stain on his hair.Â
Suguru pats his back a couple of times as he continues to laugh. âHave fun with that. Try not to run into her or friends.â
Satoru hoped not, that mini-meltdown was enough for him. He wasnât stumbling or anything, but having to walk through crowds to get to his room made him realize he was drunker than he realized, not that it made him feel any remorse for the words he said. They did not warrant getting a drink thrown in his face.Â
The first thing he does when he gets to his room is kick out a couple making out on his bed, throwing a couple of insults and threats their way as they scurry out of his room. Then he walks into his bathroom to wash his hair off in the sink, which leads to him completely stripping down in frustration and hopping in the shower, in hopes that itâd sober him up a bit.Â
It doesnâtâ it just makes him want to call it a night.Â
He dries himself off and throws on a pair of boxers and sweats before sitting down on his bed with his phone in hand. His thumb hovers over the call button as he stares at your contact. The room continues to spin as he wonders if you were even awake. It was pushing midnight.Â
After spending way too much time wondering if youâd answer, his thumb hits the screen. The phone rings once. Twice. Then a third time.
âWhat do you think youâre doing calling me this late?â you immediately grill him, your smooth and unhurried tone making you sound more amused than anything.Â
He smiles as he stifles a laugh. âI canât call you and say whatâs up now?â
âPeople donât usually call someone at midnight to say what's up.â
âMânot like other people,â he chuckles, though you know deep down inside, he wouldnât dare put himself in the same category as a regular person. There isnât one mirror heâs walked by and hasnât looked atâ the way Satoru looks at his own reflection could send anyone into a crisis, wondering if their spouses really did love them as much as they claimed.
âYeah, youâre real different,â you respond blandly, coming off as trying to knock him down a peg, when really youâre just trying to move on. âAnyways, what do you want?â
âYou should let me come over,â he doesnât hesitate to say, slurring his words slightly.Â
âNo.â
He pulls his phone away from his ear and looks at it with his brows pinched together, all hurt from how you didnât even bother thinking about it before giving him an answer.Â
âWhy not?â he grumbles, finding himself more offended than usual. âI miss you.â
Heâs reminded that you donât actually hate him when you begin to laugh at how endearing he can be, even when heâs just complaining. âI saw you two days ago.â
âWhat can I say, baby?â he murmurs, the stupid grin on his face widening when he hears you click your tongue. âYou make it hard not to with that tight little pââ
Are you drunk right now?â You cut him off, wiping the smile right off that little pervert's face.Â
âMaybe.âÂ
He hears you let out a disgusted scoff on the other side of the phone. âEw, no. I donât wanna fuck you when youâre all drunk and sloppy.â
At first, he lets out this noise that can only be described as what a pout would sound like if you could hear it. âFirst of all, Iâm not sloppy. Second, I wasnât asking to fuck, just let me spend the night. Itâs loud hereâ bunchaâ hooligans running around.âÂ
âSo you can fuck with my sleep?â
âBaby, I would never fuck with your beauty sleep,â he swears. âIâm a beastâ not a fuckinâ monster.â
âYou are such a fucking loser.â You pinch your nosebridge as you sigh and mutter under your breath. âYouâll be fine. Just take another shot and put some earplugs in.â
âI donât have any!âÂ
âHeadphones then,â you curtly say. âAnyways, Iâm going to bed nowââ
âNo, waitââ
âGood night~â
Click.
Satoruâs left staring at the wall in disbelief, jaw all the way to the floor. Surely you couldâve offered him a couchâ but you didnât bother, and the thought adds to the betrayal thatâs already exacerbated from all the shots heâs taken earlier. It doesnât go away, it just simmers once heâs processed the fact that you basically told him that he could suffer and fucking die, for all you cared, before hanging up.Â
The musicâs so loud that the walls are fucking shaking, thereâs no point in noise cancelling headphones when he can feelhow loud it is. His eyes dart between his phone, his dresser, and the door before finally getting up with an irritated sigh.Â
âFuck this.â
. . .
Instead of sleeping, like you said you would when hanging up on Satoru, you continued to watch what you put on the tv prior to answering your phone. Though with how late it was, your eyes inevitably grew heavier with each blink, and you found yourself beginning to doze off.Â
Until a knock on the door and the muffled sound of your name being called snaps you right back to reality.Â
âI swear to god if thatâsââ you begin murmuring to yourself as you walk up to the door, cutting yourself off because no shit itâs Satoru. You canât think of anybody else who would still come over despite being told no. Â
You swing the door open, annoyed that it doesnât swing outwards, it wouldâve been nice to hit him with it. Heâs leaning against the entryway to stop himself from swaying in place, as carefree as ever.Â
âWhat are you doing here?!â
Immediately, he begins to beg. âYou have got to let me sleep hereâ some nasty couple fucked on my bed and thereâs a group of psychos hunting me down with pitchforks.â
He was not going back there, and if a little truth-twisting is what it takes to get you to let him, then so be it.
Your face twists in annoyance. âHunt you down for what?!â
âFor turning one of them down.â He throws his arms out, pretending to be outraged. âThrew a drink in my face and everything just because I wouldnât fuck her! And now my bed smells like rotten fishââ
âJust get inside,â you snap at him, feeling an incoming headache starting to form from his theatrics.
âThank you.â
Despite showering and brushing his teeth, you can still smell some of the alcohol radiating off of him as he walks past you. Irritated, you shut the door a little too harshly, missing the way the man flinched as he stood there and waited for you. You completely ignore him, walking to the coffee table and picking up the remote to turn the T.V off. You walk off to your room after, with Satoru following right behind you like a lost puppy.Â
The decorative pillows get plucked off the bed one by one. The only reason why he doesnât ask if you need help with anything is that he is a little too scared to ask. You pull the duvet back and whip your head around to look at him.Â
âGet in,â you order, and he quickly walks around to the other side, pulling his shirt over his head and leaving his sweats on. âAnd do not wake me up tonight.â
âKayâ,â he says quietly, slipping the covers.Â
You follow, after killing the lights, sighing as you lay your head back and close your eyes. He awkwardly lies there at first, arms pulling the blanket up to his chest, staring at the ceiling. Itâs not how he sleeps, and frankly, he is really fucking uncomfortable. Heâs also scared to move right now.
But Satoru is Satoru, and at the very last minute, turns and snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. He slides a leg in between yours, and you open your mouth to protest, only to get cut off by his slightly nervous voice.Â
âGood night.âÂ
. . .
Satoru wakes up twice.Â
Once at 6:00 am to a pounding headache. He got up to look for an over the counter painkiller. Luckily, he found some in the first cabinet he opened in your kitchen and downed more than he shouldâve before getting back in bed, throwing an arm and a leg over you, and falling back asleep.Â
Then again, at 11:00 am, when he hears some shuffling around the room and realizes you are no longer next to him.Â
He opens one eye and mumbles, âWhere are you going?âÂ
Youâre in a hurry as you put a pair of socks on. âTo a pilates class.âÂ
âCan I come?â he pops his head up and asks, struggling to open both eyes.
Thereâs an incredulous look on your face when you pause and look at him. âAbsolutely not.â
âWhy not?â
âWell, for one, you look like a fucking mess right now.â He didnât really need to hear that, he already figured it out since he feels like one right now. âTwo, I donât need you sitting alone in the corner, watching me for an hour straight.â
âThatâs mean as fuck.â
âNot one lie was told,â you argue back, getting the last sock on and rising to your feet. âIâm not kicking you out just yet, so you can stay if you want.âÂ
âOh, I fuckinâ will.â It comes out as if kicking him out was never an option to begin with, earning himself a little side eye that he was too busy stretching his arms out to notice. You quickly let it go, figuring the hangover was doing a number on him. âDo you have food?â
âYeah, just look around in the fridge.â You look at your watch, then throw your bag over your shoulder after realizing youâre just barely running on time. âIâll be back in like an hour.â
âKayâ,â he yawns, lying back against the pillow and closing his eyes once you're out of view.Â
As much as his head hurts, heâs glad heâs suffering here and not at the house. Itâs quiet, your bedâs comfy, time actually feels like itâs running slow for once. There are another 15 minutes of peace before it is ruined by the ring of his phone.Â
Before he reaches for it on the nightstand, he takes a few seconds to shove his face into the  pillow and let out a slew of curses. He picks up the phone and answers, as if his head wasnât pounding more than ever.Â
Itâs Suguru, whoâs not as concerned as he is confused. âHey, soâ youâre not home.â
âMânot,â Satoru mumbles.Â
Suguru gives him room to explain, but speaks again when he realizes Satoruâs not going to take any of it. âWhere are you then?â Again, not concerned, just confused.
âAt a friendâs,â Satoru vaguely says. Even in his current fucked up state, he still remembers that you donât want him talking about you at all.Â
â...and this is the friend that youâre not fucking and avoiding everyone for, right?â
He lets out a laugh. âExactly.â
At least Suguruâs smart and is able to read between the lines, meaning that was enough information for him. âAlright.â He laughs with him. âIâll let you go then. Have fun with your friend.â
âI will.â
Right after he hangs up, he hears another notification go off thatâs not from his phone. He hears the ping a couple more times and quickly realizes itâs your phone hiding under the sheets. You were in too much of a rush to realize you forgot to bring it with you.Â
Satoruâs not one to look through someone elseâs phone. He never has, never cared to, never felt the need to. So fighting the urge not to was not only something new, but incredibly fucking difficult. Itâs literally right in his hand. He even knows your passcode from the one time he watched you unlock it because his memoryâs perfect.Â
One minute. Heâll just give himself one minute to take a peek.Â
. . .Â
Itâs been several.Â
Putting it down, while heâs in the middle of scrolling through a particular conversation, feels impossible. Even when he knows heâs just ruining his own morning by looking at it, he continues to read and make mental notes.Â
His names Shiu. 37 years old. Moderately successful.Â
Boring as fuck.Â
He can tell when someoneâs forcing themselves to keep a conversation alive, and canât wrap his head around why youâd even bother when itâs over shit you have zero interest in. Shiu hasnât even complimented you once. Nothing about you physically, not even the bare minimum of making a comment about how he enjoys talking to you, since itâs you carrying all of these dry, meaningless conversations.Â
It's like he just expects you to talk to him.Â
He continues to scroll, getting closer to the more recent messages, and Satoru finally sees something interesting. Not for you or Shiu, but for him. Reservations for your date next weekend. The first date.Â
And also your last.
. . .Â
Before you met him, Shiu wasnât someone youâd ever imagined yourself being with. Heâs calm, quiet, and more of a listener than he was a talker. Not much of a joker or a gossiper.Â
He was just stable. Rooted. Shiu is a man who couldnât be moved.Â
He was a safe choice. A smart one. A mellow man with a successful career. Given your track record of failed relationships with men that you chose based on how exciting you found them, maybe it was time to be smarter.
Some may say it was settling, but you say itâs being practical and choosing whatâs best for you.Â
After a few weeks of casual texting, you were finally having dinner with him tonight. You werenât exactly excited, but you werenât nervous eitherâ maybe this is him rubbing off of you.Â
Youâre not sure, honestly.Â
It feels like thereâs something missing, and in its place is the weight of something that refuses to show itself to you, as if its sole purpose was to burden you with confusion.Â
You take one last look at yourself before you leave, smoothing your hand over the long, tight black dress you chose to wear. Flattering, not too revealing. The same for your shoes, just simple black kitten heels.Â
At the last minute, Satoru manages to squeeze his way into your mind as you randomly recall the last time you saw him, which was exactly a week ago. The only thing that was off was his supernatural ability to bounce back from a hangover in under an hour. He was fine by the time you got homeâ at least fine enough to follow you into the bathroom for some shower sex.Â
You havenât heard from him since he went home that day. You should be relieved, you wanted him to get bored with you and pull away, yet here you are, wondering why you havenât heard from him.Â
. . .
Shiu wasnât a man who couldnât be movedâ that would require being passionate about something, and so far, heâs about as dry as a matchstick.
And maybe there is something that heâs passionate about, but you doubt it. Itâs not necessarily a complaint, just a change in the way you saw him. Shame on you for building up a false idea of him in your head.Â
At least heâs still calm and quietâ youâre just hoping that all there is to him.Â
As for now, Shiu was like a constant stream of water that never changed in temperature. He was a place on earth where the weather never changed. A solid 70 degrees, every single day. Acceptable. Easy to digest. Nothing out of the ordinary is ever likely to happen with him.Â
Heâs still a safe choice.
Youâre not exactly sure how itâd be whatâs best for you, though. You liked surprisesâ they turned an ordinary day into a day worth rememberingâ a life without them was just a forgotten past and pointless future.Â
You could be acting a little dramatic over it right now, but you are honestly sick and fucking tired of getting absolutely nowhere with all the guys youâve dated and spoken to.
Which is why you push yourself to consider that Shiu could just be a little shy, it's only 15 minutes into your date after all. You remind yourself that opening up takes time, for reasons that make only you feel better.Â
You havenât had a quarter life crisis yet, but learning that youâve spent all this time swinging sledge hammers and wrecking balls at a safe thatâs been empty from the start might finally take you there.Â
You take a sip of your wine and set it back down. âDo you know what youâre gonna order?âÂ
He slowly shakes his head, humming  indecisively. âNot yet.âÂ
You wait for him to say something else, but to no oneâs surprise, he doesnât. âYou mentioned itâs your 9th time coming here. Do you have any favorites that you reorder?âÂ
He hums again. âNah. The food hereâs decent, but I havenât had anything thatâs stood out to me just yet.âÂ
Itâs not often people leave you speechless, especially on first dates, but here you are. Tight lipped, eye threatening to twitch.Â
âWowâ youâre 9th time here, and you still havenât found a dish that left you satisfied at the end of the meal?âÂ
Youâre really hoping he backtracks and corrects you. Coming to a restaurant you donât like that many times was one of the most ridiculous things youâve ever heard.Â
âNot yet,â he smiles and shakes his head, as if wasting his time and money on a restaurant he didnât like was just a silly little quirk of his. âMaybe today will be the day.âÂ
Why the fuck would he take you here?
âFingers crossed,â you force out a light laugh, feeling your patience start to fade.  âSo youâre just gonna keep coming here until youâve gone through the entire menu?âÂ
âYeah, I guess,â he chuckles, not catching the slight irritation in your tone. âWhat can you do, you know?âÂ
âI mean⌠you can always try new restaurants,â you suggest.Â
âNah.â He waves a hand as if that's doing too much. âEasy to stay here. I already know what to expect.âÂ
It took the amount of discipline a sergeant had to hold back on saying that this wasnât the doctor's office or the fucking barber shop.Â
You can absolutely check other places out.
Does this guy not understand free will exists?Â
âMakes sense,â you lie, pushing out all the enthusiasm youâre able to put forward. âNo point in fixing something if itâs not broken, you know?âÂ
âExactly,â he proudly nods.Â
âThere you two are!âÂ
âŚYou were going to kill yourself if itâs who you think it is.Â
At first, you ignored the familiar voice and instead took an extra big sip of wine.Â
He hates being ignored though, so instead of pulling up a seat between you and your date as he had originally planned, he sits right next to Shiu and smiles at the way you instantly freeze.Â
You hate to admit how good he looked tonight. His hairâs styled for once, loosely brushed back with some expensive styling cream. You canât help but notice how much sharper his eyes look with his hair out of his face. More rough and intimidating. He was in a white button up, tailored to perfection, rolled up at his elbows, leaving the top buttons of the shirt unbuttoned to show off the chain he always wore. Grey tweed trousers, also tailored to perfection.Â
âMy badâ ran into some traffic on the way here.âÂ
Satoru turns to Shiu, whoâs even more confused than you, and holds his hand out for a handshake, giving him a veryformal introduction.Â
Afterwards, Satoru proceeds to pluck the menu out of your date's hand.Â
âAlright, Shiu, what are we getting tonight?âÂ
Shiu is visibly appalled when he looks at you, but doesnât say anything because heâs never had a stranger do that before. Especially when the strangerâs as eccentric as Satoru.Â
âIâ I donât know.â Your date stumbles on his words at first from the surprise of Satoruâs sudden appearance. âI didnât get to finish looking through the menu.âÂ
âWaitâ really?âÂ
Satoru looks at his watch and sees how you two have been here for nearly 20 minutes, and he still hasnât picked something. He doesnât wait for a response and hands the menu back since he already found what he liked, which sucks for you because now he can direct his attention elsewhere.Â
He leans back and nods at you, because you havenât spoken at all yet.Â
âWhatâre you getting?â You catch the split second his entire expression darkens. He is fucking pissed.
âThe cod and asparagus,â you murmur.Â
âThatâs fucking disgusting,â he says through a smile, playing it off as a joke even though you both know itâs not. âYour palate sucks though, so Iâm not surprised.âÂ
âYeah, noâ itâs fucking awful,â you let out a laugh. âI need to start eating betterâ feels like Iâve been eating nothing but junk the past few months.âÂ
His face drops, and just before heâs about to say something 10x ruder, Shiu cuts in.Â
âIâm sorry, Iâm still confused,â he takes several steps back to about 5 minutes ago, âwas there some sort of mix up here? I thought this was a date-date, not a dinner withâŚÂ friends.â Shiu looks back at you, and youâre no help, youâre just glaring.Â
âA date?â Satoru huffs out a laugh, making the man look like an idiot for even thinking this was a date. âItâs been dinner this whole time. Youâre the one who booked a reservation for four, our other friend couldnât make it.âÂ
Shiu's face twists in confusion. âWhat? No, no, noâ I booked the reservation under two.â
âNo, you didnât. It was booked under four,â he sadly breaks it to him. âYou can go ask the receptionist if you want, but I swear itâs four.âÂ
Shiu gets up from his seat to go talk to the receptionist, because he knows he booked it for twoâ heâs not fucking crazy.Â
And itâs true, heâs not. Satoruâs the crazy one here.
Heâs still gonna go home believing he is though, since the receptionist got paid to change the booking information and lie to him.Â
Satoru laughs just thinking about it, then downs the rest of Shiuâs wine, ready to gaslight him over that, too.Â
Finally, he looks back at you and feels a sick sense of satisfaction. Youâre angryâŚÂ baffled, in complete and utter disbeliefâ youâre looking at him like youâre two seconds away from jumping over the table and strangling him.Â
Though in the end, you gather yourself together as you finally ask: âWhat are you doing here, Satoru?âÂ
âWhy the fuck are you on a date with someone right now?â His tone clipped, it sounds like heâs about to throw a fit.
âIââ you stop for a moment, reminding yourself not to yell. âSatoru, weâre not in a relationship.âÂ
âFine, then,â he decides to rephrase it, âwhy are you trying to replace me? And with him? Seriously?!âÂ
âWhatâs wrong with him?!âÂ
âHe looks like a sleazy pornstar from the 80s!â
âNot everything is about looksââ
He laughs and cocks his head to the side. âOk, what is it then? Is his dick bigger than mine?â
Your brows pinch together. Of course, heâs worried about that. âNoâ I havenât even seen it yet.âÂ
âYet?!â his voice broke.Â
âI didnât mean it like that.âÂ
You try to use a more stern tone to get him to relax, but you donât think itâll work. Satoru looks fucking devastated.
âWhatâs next, you're gonna have babies with him?â
Your jaw drops at his conclusion. âWhat? No! Do you not realize how dramatic you sound right now?âÂ
âIâm being replaced by a man with fucking pornstache!â he points to himself and says.Â
âExcuse me?â Youâre both interrupted by a timid waitress. âUmâ the man that was here earlier just left.â
âIâm not surprised,â you mutter until your breath.Â
âYeahâŚâ she sighs, almost apologizing for it. âWere you guys ready to order?â
You glance back at Satoru, and heâs looking away with his arms crossed. âCould I just get the bill for the drinks?â
âOh, no worries about that! Itâs all been covered already by Mr. Gojo. You can just head out when youâre ready.â
âOkay. Thank you.â
âOf course! Have a good nââ she cuts herself off, knowing damn well you werenât. âTake care.â
You wouldâve laughed at how timid she was if you werenât so irritated, and instead just nod and smile. You look back at the date crasher, contemplating whether you should thank him or not for trying to cover the bill, but hold off, knowing he probably only did it to assert even more dominance over your date than he already has.Â
âWeâre leaving.â You rise up and grab your purse. Satoru doesn't even look at you, let alone move an inch, because heâs throwing a fucking tantrum, so you slam your hand on the table. âGet up.â
He gets up.
Thereâs a slight pout on Satoruâs face as he follows you out of the restaurant and into the parking lot. His hands are shoved in his pockets, dragging his feet.Â
âWhereâs your car?â you ask.Â
âThere,â he mumbled and nodded in its direction, then suddenly, youâre pinching his ear and yanking on it.Â
âOwââ
âWalk,â you say through gritted teeth, pinching harder.Â
âOwâ fuckâ I am,â he chokes out. âOw, ow, ow.â
You continued to drag him through the parking lot, ignoring his pleas for you to let go.Â
âSuck it up,â you coldly respond. âYou were asking for it when you crashed my date.â
âIâm sorry, IâŚÂ ughâ Iâm really not, he was lame as fuck, but stillâ your nails, ow.â
âExactly, so get over it,â you continue to scold him. âCanât believe you fucking did that.â
âBecause youââ
âI donât wanna hear it,â you cut him off, giving his ear one last tug, leaving him next to the driver's side door of his car. âTake me home. Now.â
gojo when reader said she hasnât seen it âyetâ:
All rights reserved Š 2026 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform. Do not feed my works into ai and do not turn them into chat bots.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
ââââ dream a little dream of me âż ft. varka
ę° synopsis ęą âż for the longest time, varkaâs dreams have always been just thatâdreams. he returns to mondstadt and faces the possibility that maybe they can be more
ę° word count ęą âż 5.5k words â me when this was supposed to be a drabble </3
ę° before you read ęą âż female reader ; mutual pining for years ; friends to lovers ; written pre varka release â contains spoilers of his lore from his animated short âanother prologueâ ; made up mondstadt folklore by me lol ; drunk varka + mentions of alcohol and drinking ; varka returns to mondstadt!! ; slight angst BUT itâs happy in the end okay?? ; getting together ; making out by the statue of barbatos rip barbatos pls forgive this behavior ; not proof read oops
ę° commentary ęą âż good luck to varka wanters!! i will not be joining you but may you all be varka havers
Varka has dreams. Vivid, merciless things that visit him in the quiet hours of the night.
He dreams of a dragon tearing across Mondstadtâs skyâof twin greatwords in his hands and wind at his back as he faces such a beast. He dreams of victory. Of returning home triumphant. He sees the city gates thrown open, hears the thunder of clapping hands and cheering voices, and the unmistakable relief on the faces of his knights as their grand master comes back to them at last. He dreams of a statue carved in his likeness. Of his glass never empty, always filled with his favorite dandelion wine, poured in honor of a hero.
He dreams of what-ifs. Of could-have-beens. Of a distant past that could have been his to look back on fondly.
But he has long since folded those dreams away and set them aside. He has made peace with the life he chose insteadâwith becoming a hero in quieter ways, in a foreign land as he leads an expedition that keeps calamity far from Mondstadtâs borders.
He does not regret it. Not really. Some things are just the way they are.Â
And yet, Varka has never stopped dreaming of you. He doesnât think he ever will.
Whether in sleep or in waking, you find him all the same. His mind renders you with cruel, unforgiving precision: the exact curve of your smile, the softness in your eyes, the way your lips press together when youâre trying not to laugh. He remembers it all. He remembers you in ways that feel less like memory and more like an aching sense of longing.
Some dreams fade with time. You never seem to give him that luxury.
â
âDid you know people believe that during ancient times, when wine was brewed from dandelions, it had a symbolic meaning?â You hum, tracing a finger over Varkaâs nose. His head rests comfortably on your lap, enjoying the gentle breeze of Windrise while he has the opportunity.Â
Varka rarely has a day offâbeing the grand master of an order of knights makes for free days to be a difficult thing to come by. The work schedule of someone like him just does not allow such luxuries. But Deputy Master Jean is a good friend of yours, and sheâs a kind friend above all. She takes matters into her own hands without being askedâinsists that headquarters and the whole of Mondstadt will stay orderly for an entire day without Varka there to see over things.Â
Reluctantly, your boyfriend agrees. You are not ignorant of his dilemmaâhis mind tells him that abandoning work is not the sort of thing someone with his duties should do, but his heart is just the same as every man who yearns. His heart aches for the sort of freedom that grants him one day with you. Just a day filled with you and nothing else.Â
And so, his heart wins. After all, this is Mondstadt. The nation of freedom.Â
âOh yeah?â He chuckles fondly, cracking an eye open to look at you, âWell, thereâs something you donât hear every day. And just what did it symbolize?â
âWell,â you murmur, brushing hair from his forehead. He catches your wrist, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss against your palm as you speak, âThere are many theories. Itâs all folklore, after all. Whoâs to say whatâs truly the accurate version?â
âAnd whatâs your version?â
âWell,â you start, âdandelion seeds drift through the wind, you see. They travel across many places and see many things before they settle down to grow. Thereâs an old story about themâperhaps youâve heard it.â
âNever,â he murmurs.
You give him an unimpressed look, and he shoots you an innocent grin. âOh, is that so? Iâm sure such an important figure in our nation would know one of our most popular tales, would he not?â
âHah,â he chuckles, gruff and heartily from his chest in that way you canât help but be endeared by. âIf I told you I snoozed through history classes, would you be surprised?â
âHardly,â you snort.
âThen tell a poor, history-challenged man this famous tale you speak of,â he brings your fingertips to his lips, nibbling at them as you giggle, pulling away from his grasp.Â
âVarka,â you huff, âyouâre a fool, did you know?â
âNot on the battlefield, my fair lady,â he quips back. âThat, I can promise.â
âWell,â you roll your eyes, âfine. But only because you asked so sweetly.â
Varka grins up at you, settling even deeper into the pillow of your lap, looking more relaxed than youâve seen him in a good long time. His hand runs lazily along your thigh while he waits, eyes half-lidded as he admires you.
âThereâs an old folktale,â you begin softly, âabout a single dandelion seed that rode on the wind for far longer than any of the others. They say this little seed drifted all across Mondstadt.â
âHope the journey was kind to the little guy.â
âDonât interrupt,â you scold, giving him an exaggerated scowl.
He shoots you a faux apologetic look, squeezing your thigh as he obediently says, âYes, maâam.â
âIt flew through Starsnatch Cliff and watched the cecelias overcome the harsh winds as they grew, and it passed through Whispering Woods and listened to travelersâ and their secrets. This seed saw many things as it passed through while being carried by the wind,â you whisper, brushing your thumb along his cheek. âIt watched people as they lived and made memories filled with joy and laughter. Eventually, so much time had passed that the wind had whispered it was time for the seed to settle in a single place and make its own memories, too. But the little seed kept going, it held onto the hopes of witnessing more and carrying as many memories from the people it would see for just a bit longer.â
âWhat a hardworking little thing,â Varka murmurs teasingly. Then, he winksâcheeky and playful. âReminds you of someone, huh?â
You flick his forehead. âCertainly not you. All you work hard at is drinking more than everyone around you.â
He laughs, deep and warm. âWellâŚcanât say thatâs completely false. Though itâs not the only thing I work on.â
âAnyway,â you continue, âafter a long, long journey, the wind had finally convinced the little seed to settle down on a tiny patch of grass near Windrise. Nothing specialâjust a small, humble patch of land beneath a big tree.â
âRight where we are now,â he notes, glancing at the roots beside you.
You nod. âAnd there, after all that traveling, it finally grew. People say the dandelion that sprouted from that seed was different. It was taller and brighter than most dandelionsâperhaps because it was touched by all the spirits of all the people it had seen during its journeys. Because it was touched by their hopes to make more cherished memories with the ones they love.â
âAnd then?â he asks quietly.
âWell,â you say, smoothing the collar of his shirt, âthey say the first batch of dandelion wine was brewed with that particular dandelion, and the people loved it so much, it became a significant part of Mondstadtâs culture. SoâŚitâs thought that perhaps dandelion wine became a symbol of all the love that the dandelion carried in its little seed form, and all the love it passed on by becoming a drink that people shared on happy occasions.â
As though Barbatos himself were pleased by your words, the wind stirs around you, kissing your skin as it passes through. Varka reaches up and cups your cheek with a large, warm hand, and grins. âAm I safe to assume you brought dandelion wine for me then, because being with me is a happy, joyous occasion?âÂ
You lean down to press your forehead to his, giving him an especially sweet smile. Too sweet, even. âNo. I merely told you an old tale that I heard, thatâs all.â
He lets out a low, dramatic sigh. âAnd here I thought you brought all this up just to tell me how much I mean to you.â
âI brought all this up, you see,â you roll your eyes, and he watches as you pull away ever so gently to get a better look at his face. The scar that litters his cheek, the necklace that hangs against his chest, and those thick brows that frame those bright, sparkling eyes. You stare at him, at Varka. Your Varka. You get a good long look before you say, âBecause the people of Mondstadt have been drinking dandelion wine more than they ever have these days. And a certain hero has made that so.â
He hums, lips curling into a small, smug grin. âA hero, you say?â
âYes,â you chuckle, cupping his cheeks, âone who has defeated a dragon and saved us all. We drink dandelion wine in honor of his triumph.â
You lean down and press your lips to his, and he hums, a deep, satisfied rumble that comes from his chest. His hands find the side of your face, holding you steady as a callused thumb traces your cheek. Then, after a moment, he slowly sits up from your lap, taking all his warmth with him. Youâre about to protest until he reaches over, picking a small dandelion from the patch of grass beside your picnic blanket before turning and tucking it against your ear.Â
âThere,â he murmurs, âthis dandelion has seen how much you mean to me. So, I guess we can say the wind carried it to the right place, huh?â
Your breath hitches for a moment before you slowly break into a bright beam, tugging him closer and pressing a soft, delicate kiss to his lips for a brief moment.Â
âYes,â you whisper. âI suppose the wind has carried it exactly where it belongs.â
â
He wakes up with a start, fingers lifting to feel at his lips. The roughness of his fingertips wipe away the lingering phantom of your touch. He groans, rubbing a hand over his face before turning and curling deeper into the blankets that litter the floor of his tent.Â
âSame dream as always,â he grunts to himself shaking his head, âI think Iâm beginning to lose it.â
When Varka returns, Mondstadt gives him a warm welcome. At least, those who remember him, anyway.
Most people tend to forget that Acting Grand Master Jean is only acting in his place temporarily. He does not blame them for it. It has been years since Varka last set foot in his homeland, and much has changed in his absence. Another hero has risen to save his peopleâa hero to whom he is endlessly indebted, of course. A hero who, alongside the acting grand master and Barbatos himself, has kept his people safe when he could not.
Varka is grateful. Happy, even. Relieved.
But he is also humanâand a human who once held a dream. An ambitious dream that had once unfolded vividly before his very eyes, so close it felt tangible, as if he could reach out and grasp it. And yet, fate had cruelly yanked it away from his fingertips just as he thought it might finally be his.
He does not fight fate. Instead, he thanks it. He thanks it for allowing someone else to fulfill his dream in his stead while he battled a crisis in a distant land, ensuring his home remained safe.
But Varka is human, and all humans feel melancholy when their dreams remain only dreams, and nothing more.
âSo,â you murmur, sliding into the chair beside him in Angelâs Share and propping your head against your hand, âyou come all this way home from a place I can only dream of visiting, and you donât even bring me back a souvenir? I must say, Grand Master, Iâm quite disappointed.â
Varka recognizes your voice. Of course he does. How could he not? It is the same voice that haunted his dreams time and time again while he was away. He has found that on nights when you appear in them, he wakes with an especially sharp ache of homesickness. He longs for the wind of Mondstadt against his face more fiercely than ever, for the distant scent of sweet madames cooking at Good Hunter. He yearns for the familiar sight of his knights and their bright, loyal smiles as he salutes them in passing.
He yearns to see you.
He has not dared to seek you out since his returnâfear is a strange, fickle thing. He does not fear dragons, nor monsters of the abyss, nor the countless dangers he has faced without hesitation. But the thought of standing before the woman he has loved silently for years fills him with a quiet, dreadful terror.
So he does not go to you. Instead, you come to himâwhile he is drunk and alone.
Fantastic.
Slowly, he turns his head.
You sit beside him as though it is the most natural thing in the world. As though he did not vanish for years. As though he had not returned and deliberately avoided the very streets he knew you walked.
As though he had not already lost you.
His throat tightens. He swallows it down with another mouthful of dandelion wine.
ââŚIâŚtraveled light,â he says at last, voice slurred by hisâŚ(what number cup of wine was this? Heâs lost count.)
Your mouth curves into a tight smile. Thereâs something searching in your eyes as you look at him. Something that sees through him too easily. âThat so?â you hum. âNot even something small? Iâm hurt.â
He huffs quietly, looking down into his glass. In another life, he had seen this moment differently. He had seen his return as something grander, something worth being prouder of. Not something quite like this. In that life, he had returned a hero.
Sometimes, though he doesnât regret the path he chose, he mourns what he had seen in the scryglassâthe dragon falling beneath his blade, Mondstadt safe beneath his watch, the city singing his name with pride. He had seen the statue. The celebrations. He had seen you, too. You had been smiling at him like he was something worth waiting for.
He breaks out of his thoughts when your voice cuts in. âYou shouldnât be here,â you say gently.
He blinks, dragged from the memory. ââŚHm?â
You gesture faintly to his glass. âYouâve had enough to drink, Varka. You shouldnât be sitting here any longerâyou should get home.â
Home. The word lands strangely. He barely recognizes it, even when it was all he had thought of while he was away. It doesnât feel right being there, sometimesânot when heâs gotten used to hard soil under his back as he sleeps in a tent.
âOne more round,â he says, âjusâ another glass.â
âYou didnât come see me,â you say quietly.
He flinches.
âYou came back,â you continue. âEveryone knows youâre back. The knights know. The city knows. But you didnât come see me. You didnât even see me before you left to say goodbye.â
He canât look at you. Because the truth is as simple as it is pathetic.Â
âIâŚcouldnât,â he says. ââŚCouldnât.â
You frown. âCouldnât?â
âThâ scryglass,â he murmurs. âItâŚit showed me somethinâ.âÂ
You frown in confusionâof course you donât know what heâs talking about. Itâs all a bunch of nonsense to you coming from a drunk man. But his mouth canât stop now that itâs begun.Â
âShowed me Mondstadt. A dragon. I fought it, yâknowâwon, too.â His jaw tightens faintly. âThen I was a hero.â The hero he did not get a chance to actually become. âIt showed me what would happen if I stayed,â he continues, words slower now. Less steady. âAnâ⌠it showed me what would happen if I didnât. There wasâŚsomethinâ in Nod-Krai. Would reach Mondstadt. Eventually.â He swallows. âI saw what I had tâ doâwhat I had tâ give up.â
Silence stretches between you. You donât know what to say, how to make sense of what heâs telling you. But he continues before you get a chance to figure anything out.Â
âIf I had seen you before I leftâŚâ His voice falters, just for a moment. Just enough to betray him. âIâŚI donât think I wouldâve gone.â The admission hangs there, fragile and terrible. He laughs roughly after, but there is no humor in it. âPathetic, isnât it? Grand Master oâ the Knights oâ FavoniusâŚbrought low by somethinâ as simple as a goodbye.â
Your expression softens just a fraction, but it only makes his chest ache more. And then, you whisper, âYou should get home, Varka. Iâm being seriousâyouâve had a lot to drink.â
With that, you slowly stand, getting ready to leave. He watches you turn, and something inside him breaks. Because this is itâthis is the life he chose. The one where everything he wants is not his, and everything he dreams of is just a sick, distantly wishful dream.Â
His hand moves before he can think. He catches your wrist again, and you turn back, startled.
ââŚGo out wâ me,â he says, âon a date. You ân me.â The words come out rough. Unsteady.
Your eyes widen in shock. ââŚWhat?â You search his face. âYouâre too drunk, Varka. Youâre saying nonsense.â
He would rather leave for Nod Krai again than see that doubt in your eyes. Doubt that he would want youâwhat a ridiculous thought, he thinks. To doubt that you are not all heâs ever wanted. He canât blame you, of course, but the absurdity of the idea is too bitter to swallow.Â
ââŚPleaseâŚ?â he says. So quiet, you can barely hear him. âSâall I wanted, yâknow? Before I left, anâ stuffâthought maybe ât was too late when I got back.â
You stare at him for a long moment. Long enough that he feels every second like a blade. And thenâ
ââŚOkay,â you say. And then, after a moment of sitting with your decision, you smile. Itâs a carefree little thingâstripped of all that doubt and underlying hurt. âOkay. Iâll go out with you. But first you need to get home. Câmon.â
Sitting here, under a large tree at Windrise, the wind is gentler than he remembers. Or perhaps it has simply been far too long for him to remember correctly. Varka has stood in this place countless times beforeâfor training, for duties, in passing, in leisure, in haste. But never like this. Never with you.
He shifts his weight slightly on the blanket, one knee drawn up while the other leg stretches out into the grass. His armor is gone, replaced with something simpler.Â
âThis was a good suggestion,â you murmur, smiling at the view. âI donât believe Iâve ever thought of having a picnic here.â
He hums, giving you a crooked grin. âOf course, this was a good suggestion,â he chuckles, âit was my suggestion, of course.â
Heâs not sure why he suggested it. Perhaps it was a pathetic attempt to recreate the silly images heâs seen in his sleepâsmall, hopeful dreams dreamt in the reclusiveness of his own mind, where he is allowed to be what he wants: yours, a hero, a cherished citizen of Mondstadt who gets to stay home. These are all things Varka has always wanted to be. Things he has given up. And yet he clings to them, despite it all. The suggestion to come here tumbles past his lips before he can stop himself, before he can remember that dreams are not meant to be lived in.
You snort softly from beside him, adjusting the basket at your side. âOf course, Grand Master. How could I doubt your wisdom?â
He groans. âDonât call me that, please. I hear that enough already everywhere else.â
âBut you are that,â you counter.Â
âNot today,â he says easily, giving you a wink. âToday, Iâm just a lucky man who was fortunate enough to convince a very lovely woman to accompany him.â
He says it lightly. Playfully. But he does not look at you when he doesâor heâd have seen the way you flustered at being called a lovely woman. Instead, he fiddles with blades of grass between his fingers. Varka has missed the feeling of grass from his homelandâeven something as common and mundane as grass is not the same in other lands.
You watch his fingers carelessly grab at a dandelion, feeling up its stem before pulling away. ââŚDid you know,â you begin softly, âpeople believe that during ancient times, when wine was first brewed from dandelions, it had a symbolic meaning?â
His breath catches. Not visibly. Not enough that anyone other than himself would notice.Â
Because he has heard these words before. Distant, echoed words that haunted him in his sleep, teased him with versions of his life he always thought were simply too out of touch for him.Â
He turns his head toward you slowly, brows lifting. âOh?â he hums, forcing his voice to stay steady. âThis sounds like the start of a history lecture.â You give him a look. He raises both hands in surrender, smiling. âIâm listening,â he promises.
But something in his chest has already begun to tighten. He remembers thisâhe remembers warmth. He remembers the wind. He remembers your voice, softer than anything else heâs ever heard, telling him a story about something small and stubborn and endlessly wandering. He remembers your touch and your fond, delicate eyes staring back at him.Â
And he remembers waking up alone every time.Â
You smile in satisfaction at his willingness before continuing. âThere are many theories,â you say. âIt is folklore, after all. Whoâs to say which version is true?â
He leans back against the tree behind him, stretching his legs out further into the grass.
This is different than his dreams. In his dreams, he had been lying down. His head had been in your lap. He had belonged there without question. Now, he sits beside you instead. Youâre not as fond of him now as you were then, and you arenât as intimate with him either.Â
But you could be. The thought makes his head spin a little. You came here with himâagreed in a heartbeat when he asked for your time to spend with him, to do something romantic and not just as two friends who are simply catching up. And you are recreating his dreams, little by littleâthe same, but different all at once.Â
âWhich version do you believe?â he asks quietly.Â
Your gaze drifts upward, toward the small, drifting seeds carried through the wind. âDandelions travel far,â you murmur. âThe wind carries them across countless places. They see many thingsâpeople, their lives, their memories.â
His fingers press faintly into the soil beneath the grass. The words are not exact. But they are close enough that his chest aches with recognition.
âThereâs an old story,â you continue, âabout a single dandelion seed that drifted in the winds longer than all the others. It passed through every corner of Mondstadt. It saw all of the peopleâs joys and sorrows.â
He smiles faintly. He knows this storyâhas heard it in your voice several times. Heâd been under the impression that it ended somewhere far from here.
âSounds like it lived a full life.â
You glance at him. âDonât interrupt.â
He swallows thickly, wondering whatâs real and what isnât. Is this still reality? Will he wake up in his bed and get ready to bring you here in a little bit? Are his dreams taunting him yet again, even after heâs journeyed all the way home?
He doesnât dwell too long. Instead, he presses a hand to his chest and says, âMy apologies, madameâI wonât do it again.â
You continue with a roll of your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. âAfter many, many days of journeying and watching all of the people of Mondstadt, the wind eventually urged the seed to settle. To grow somewhere and stop wandering. But it didnât. Not at first. It wanted to keep going. To see more. To carry more memories with it.â
He exhales quietly through his nose. ââŚStubborn thing,â he murmurs.
You look at him again. âYes,â you chuckle.
The wind stirs. A dandelion seed catches briefly against his shoulder before drifting away again. In Nod Krai, he had not questioned it. He had accepted the taunting visions of what could have been his life without wondering if heâd made a mistake. Without wondering if they were still a possibility. Now, he is sitting beside you, close enough to hear your breathing and close enough to reach out and touch youâand he thinks maybe he has not given up all of his dreams. Not yet.
Maybe Varka has not lost that future. Maybe he has simply not reached it yet.
âEventually,â you say, âit did settle. Right here, near Windrise. And when it finally grew, it was said to be taller and brighter than all the other dandelions. Perhaps because it carried all of Mondstadt and its peopleâs spirits. They say the first batch of dandelion wine was brewed from that same dandelion, and that it carried all the memories it had gathered, all the love it had witnessed. So, itâs believed that dandelion wine was made to enjoy during happy occasions worth remembering.â
This was always the part of his dream that had ached the most. The part where he had allowed himself to believe, if only for a moment, that he had stayed. That he had chosen differently. That he had not turned his back on the path that had everything heâd always wanted. The part that stung the most when heâd realize it was nothing but a dream when heâd crack his eyes open and only a tent was there to greet him in a distant, foreign land.
But you are here now. Real. Close enough that he can see the way the light catches in your eyes. Close enough that he understands, with a clarity that leaves him almost breathless, that you are not something he lost. You are not something he gave up. You are something he still has time to earn.
He clears his throat, stretching his arms behind his head to rest against them as he says, in what he hopes sounds teasing, âDid you bring dandelion wine, then? To celebrate the joy of going on a date with this legendary knight?â
You laugh softly. âI did.â You reach into the basket and pull out a bottle.
His eyes widen slightly, delighted. âWell,â he says, âhow fortunate I am.â
You hesitate for just a moment before adding, âIâm sure people have offered you wine everywhere since youâve returned, but stillâŚit seemed appropriate.â
He watches you as you pour. The careful way you hold the bottle. The way the sun kisses your skin and warms it up. This moment had lived in his mind before it ever existed. Not exactly like this. But close enough that it feels less like a coincidence and more like mercy. Fate has had mercy on Varka, and he has never been one to argue with fate.
When you offer him the glass, your fingers brush his. He stills.
(It is difficult not to dwell on it for a momentâhow easy and simple it was in his dream, just to touch you. He had reached for you without hesitation. Now, he is so careful. So grateful for accidental touches and so wishful that they would last a little longer. If only for a moment.)
You donât pull away immediately. Neither does he. Finally, you release the glass and move to pour your own.
But it never happens.Â
Because Varka cannot endure this any longer.
His restraint snaps suddenlyâso suddenly, that he almost doesnât recognize it for what it is. Every chivalrous, righteous virtue he lives by as a knight to be a good, respectable man gets carried away by the wind, and leaves him stripped with nothing else but instinct. Instinct, and perhaps an aching longing that has been sharpened by years of absence, and then sharpened even further still by the unbearable reality of you being right here, within reach, and not his. The sharpness is too painful nowâit slices him in ways he can no longer tolerate and move on from.Â
His hand moves before he can stop it. He catches your wristânot rough, never roughâbut with a firmness that startles you. You barely have time to react before he pulls you toward him, and then you are no longer sitting beside him. You are on his lap, your breath catching as the world tilts, as his arm comes around your waist to steady you, as warm and hard muscle shaped by years of battle and discipline wrap around you.
For a moment, he only looks at you.
His eyes search your face like a starved man. Like a lost man, even. He takes you in as though he is committing you to memory all over again, as though this, too, might become something he will only be allowed to revisit in dreams.
He should stop. He knows he should stop.
But he has spent years stopping himself, hasnât he? Years choosing duty. Years choosing others and not himself. Years choosing to live with the quiet, gnawing absence of you, knowing what he could have had and yet, still choosing to walk away from it. He has spent years choosing to give up the future he has dreamed of for the sake of the future of his nation and his people.Â
He cannot do it any longer. Not when you are real instead of some figment of his imagination, and not when you are here, with him.Â
Varka has had many, many dreams of youânot all of them have taunted him with the images of your affection. Some have taunted him with the images of you moving on, looking elsewhere, finding someone else. Maybe that is why he did not find you when he returned. Why he waited for you to find him. Maybe that is why, all along, he has been scared to face youâtoo scared to learn that perhaps he has given up a life that you both could have shared and sent you on a path to a life that no longer has room for him.
But it does. You still have room for him, and he is done with no longer allowing himself the space to be there.Â
His hand rises to your face, and a calloused thumb brushes your cheek. âForgive me,â he murmurs, though he doesnât really sound too sound sorry at all.
And then he kisses you. Hard.
Itâs everything he has denied himself, poured into a single, desperate press of his lips. His mouth finds yours with a force that is unbearably hungry. Hunger that has grown painful over years of restraint. He pulls you closer against him, his hand firm at your waist, anchoring you there as though heâs afraid you might vanish if he loosens his grip.
Your lips are softer than he remembers in his dreams. Warmer. Alive beneath his. There is life to them, not some ghostly mimic meant to haunt him cruelly.Â
For a fleeting, terrifying moment, he thinks you might pull away. But you prove him wrong. You donât. And when you finally gather yourself enough to respond, you lean into him instead of away. You kiss him back just as hardâjust as desperate. And something deep in his chest aches more than it ever has.
His hand slides to the back of your neck. To keep you there, in placeâright there against him, where you belong. To convince himself this is real, that he is not asleep in a tent, envisioning Windrise and you and your warmth. To convince himself that he will not wake up and feel the aftershocks of shame and bitterness and insufferably agonozing yearning.Â
He has kissed you in dreams before. Those had been gentle things. Easy and familiar and almost part of a routine. It had been so simple to just kiss you as he pleased in his mind, that it had made him feel helpless. He had walked away from what heâs always wanted most.Â
This is not gentle. He doesnât have the luxury to take his time and be cautious with you when this could end in an instant. This is not part of his routine, and it may never be. So he takes advantage of it, as ashamed as he is to admit it. He pulls back only slightly, just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours, his breath uneven in a way no battle has ever managed to cause.
He searches your face again, as though waiting for you to change your mind. To regret this and regret him.
You donât.
Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, kissing him just as hard. As ifâŚ(dare he believe such a bold idea) as if you have dreamt of this moment for years and years, as well.Â
âForgive me,â he says again, his voice a rough, deep rumble as his lips press to yours again. Again and again and again and again. Hot, searing kisses are pressed to your lips as he whispers, âForgive me,â between them.Â
âThere is nothing to forgive,â you manage to whisper in between, somewhere along the way. And you kiss him, too. Again and again and again and again.
And after so long, Varka is home. His dreams are no longer just dreams.Â
the concept of varka trying his hardest to maintain his knightly integrity of being a gentleman.
the first time is innocent. just a passing touch between your hands that make him fixate on them, or better yet, the difference in size compared to his.
he shakes it off.
the next time is when you bump into him. his hands reach out to steady you, and looking at you from this angle, he takes in the full size difference, your eyes as you look up at him, and thinks about if the hands that were holding your shoulders steady lingered lowerâ
he yanks his hands back, letting you go on your way. your scent lingers around him, and he tries shaking the thoughts for the rest of the day.
another time, you're changing for one reason or another in the knights headquarters, specifically jean's office (after being granted permission).
varka barges in, looking for jean only to freeze at the sight of your shirt lifted halfway up your torso. the door slams shut, his face a red so fierce it puts diluc's hair to shame, thoughts running rampant. you just looked so beautiful, the sun was hitting your figure perfectly, he was able to peak at your bare back, your pretty waist, the smallest glimpse of the curve of yourâ
his knees give out, hands viciously running through his hair.
stop that right now! you're a knight, the grandmaster for goodness sake!
the last time, you both end up working through a new domain. unfortunately, this one had an unknown mechanic that wound up trapping you two so closely you're chest-to-chest.
he tries to stay casual, he really does!! but from this angle, he can feel the shape of your body against him, can even catch a glimpse of your chest from your low shirtâ
his face is red, averting his gaze at anywhere but at you when you begin squirming, obviously uncomfortable and searching for a way out. at the same time, with the positioning, varka has to hold back a groan as he can feel every movement of yours affecting the package behind his belt.
shortly after, you feel yourself fall backwards, varka hovering over you, the blue sky above you once again, a gentle breeze passing between you two.
(varka had used his brute strength to crumble the wall of the domain behind you, lest you be stuck in an even more... compromising position).
he can breathe easier, praising himself in his head for getting out of such a situation.
...he's in trouble.
-
a/n: super big brain dump bc its 3 am but id love to write this into an actual fic bc i love varka hes so lovely and big and endearing and big and i love him and strong omg im so in love........ the last scenario is based on a fanart that i... saw and adore will add later when i find the link but its by @/majunjuu on twt :x
a/n: the way this isn't even half my gojo masterlist is lowk so funny to me it took everything in me not to add spider gojo on here lmfao. anywhoooo reblogs + comments are always appreciated adore you all :3
content: mdni, angst and fluff and smut, modern AU, f! reader(s), established relationships, breakups/makeups, all of these take place in the same au but with diff readers, oral (m! + f! receiving), piv sex, sukuna + naoya are their own warnings lol, gojo + choso being down atrociously for their girls :p
cyberbully!Sukuna x f2p!Reader
one two three four five six seven eight
cutscenes : five stars
ex-bf!Naoya x influencer!Reader
one two three four five six
streamer!Choso x fangirl!Reader
one two three four five six
cutscenes: game over?
chronically online loser loverboy!Gojo x nerdy!Reader
one two three four five six seven
cutscenes: marriage material
pro-gamer!Geto x roommate!Reader
one two three four five six seven
youtuber!Nanami x cosplayer!Reader
one two three four five six seven
bonus:
their valentine's day gift to you + your gift to them
At this point Iâm about to start writing đđ Iâve been reading a lot and Iâve also been in the roleplay community so I might be able to cookâŚ
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
I have a request for YEARNING STEVE. Everything you do he just canât get enough. Touchy. Clingy. Whiney when youâre not near and everyone is lowkey sick of seeing it but he doesnât care he just wants YOU đ
pairing - steve harrington x fem!reader (no use of yn)
genre - fluff, established relationship
warnings - tooth rotting fluff bc iâm in love w steve harrington & im projecting all my feelings into my work, lots of skin-ship, steve harrington yearns, gag-worthy amounts of being in luv, fluff, kissing & some making out! steve refers to u as his gf, word count 3.7k đ§ââď¸
authors note - tysm for the req :) i hope this is ok, and ty for letting me yearn with no restraints <33 my ask box is always open for these kinds of things so pls donât be afraid to ask me to write something
if anyone were to ask, steve harrington would say his love language was physical touch. really, he couldnât help his insistent need to reach out and touch you, not that you complained most of the time anyways, because it was just how he expressed his feelings. sometimes words werenât enough, and steve was raised on the saying that âactions speak louder than words.â so it came to no surprise that heâd always have a hand on you; whether it was his fingers laced with yours, an arm slung over your shoulder or his hand ghosting over the small of your back, steve was always touching you in some degree.
steve could recall nearly every time heâd notice someone glance at the pair of you, or hear an off-handed comment from someone he knew about how you two were glued to the hip, how they almost never saw one of you without the other. he took pride in it, despite the judgemental tone some of them had, because why wouldnât he want to spend quality time with the love of his life? he never really understood the idea of being without someone for long periods of time, because in his mind: to be loved is to be present.
i.
there was nothing romantic about the cramped employee back room of family video. it was dusty, the air was stale and more often than not youâd walk in and find keith sitting at the desk with a game & watch under the pretence of âadmin workâ. yet, steve still had the nerve to convince you that he couldnât be more than five steps away from you, rambling on about how itâd physically hurt him to separate his hand from yours, and that heâs offended you wouldnât âwalk to the ends of the earth with your boyfriend in hand.â to which you just roll your eyes.
âsteve, youâre so dramatic sometimes..â heâs moping, complaining that you donât love him, because if you did, youâd be in the store room with him right now instead of calling him names. âis it a crime to want to be with my girlfriend?â heâs got a hand clutching his heart, murmuring that heâs wounded and the only cure for his broken heart is just behind the door to the back office. âno, but unauthorised entry in an employee only area is..â youâre teasing him now, steve is opening wearing his heart on his sleeve and expressing his unwavering love for you and youâre teasing him.
âbaby, youâve literally been behind doors countless times, and last time i checked..â heâs making a show of looking around, knowing full well the two of you were alone; robin not due to start her shift for another hour or so. â.. thereâs no one else here.â it has you rolling your eyes, and steveâs calling checkmate. heâs got you right where he wants, no more excuses lined up on your tongue and you just sigh, giving in easily like you always do. steveâs internally cheering, a smug smile on his face as he interlocks your fingers with his, tugging you towards the secluded area out back, and all you can do is follow.
before youâre even able to question his clingy behaviour, steve is slowly backing you towards the nearest wall, one hand laced with yours and the other is pressed against the cold surface beside you, and it all clicks. âbaby, you did not just convince me to come back here just so we can make out..â steve just shrugs, feigning innocence even when his eyes are telling you everything. âmm, donât know what youâre on about.â he leans in anyway, and you donât fight back, his lips on yours in a matter of seconds. and as much as you had wanted to poke fun of how needy he was today, you realised you needed this too, needed him close enough to touch, and you think youâre becoming just as bad as him.
it was just supposed to be a few innocent kisses, a few unspoken words in the form of his lips interlocked with yours, and yet, you canât help but have an arm strung around the back of his neck, your need to have him closer clouding your judgement. steveâs just as bad, both hands on your waist, bringing you in, chest to chest, and youâre both whining about being too far away, despite the lack of space left between you. âyouâre a terrible liar.â you call out, and heâs ignoring it in favour of kissing your jaw, following a path down your neck, while youâve got a hand bunched in his hair, tugging just hard enough to get a sound out of him. heâs grinning up at you now, from the junction of your throat you can feel his teasing smile, and you roll your eyes, pretending youâre not wrapped around his finger right now, like youâre not as equally eager to have him.
heâs sliding a hand underneath your shirt, drawing aimless shapes along your bare skin, lost in the feeling, before thereâs the distinct sound of shuffling outside that halts his movements. you both freeze, eyes stuck on the door before flicking back to each other, and youâre looking at him in horror, too afraid at the idea of being caught. âi thought you said it was just us?â you whisper, you curse him out for being reckless, and dragging you along with him, before you push him off you in favour of smoothing out the wrinkles on your clothes. steveâs groaning out in irritation, muttering something along the lines of âlast time i checked, it was.â before sticking his head outside to see what the commotion was all about.
âdingus, the fuck are you doing? thereâs a customer.â itâs robin, and steveâs eyes shoot up to the clock, sheâs early, and heâs wincing because really, out of all days. steve coughs awkwardly, some feeble excuse on his tongue dies when robin takes notice of his disheveled appearance and he can tell sheâs grown suspicious, that sheâs got questions he doesnât really want to reveal the answers to. her suspicions quickly turn into disgust when she pieces the picture together, and sheâs looking at the door as if she can already guess whoâs behind there with him. âthink you can see what they want? iâm a bit preoccupied.â and robin is feigning a gag, all while the customer just stands there, judging the both of them before making a comment about the lack of professionalism the youth have these day.
âiâm not even clocked in you idiot!â but it doesnât matter, because steveâs quick to close the door on her and robin flips him off when she thinks the customer isnât looking. they were, and itâs just another thing she has to deal with before her shift even begins.
ii.
steve thinks itâs entirely unfair that youâre ignoring him right now. heâs lying between your legs, breath tickling your thighs and practically yearning for your attention. yet youâre more engrossed in whatever it is that nancy is saying to you on the phone, than your amazing, perfect, and very bored boyfriend. sure, youâve go one hand playing idly with his hair, and itâs enough to have him close his eyes, to enjoy the way you rake your fingers through it softly, but itâs not enough to ease the ache of not being the centre of your attention. if the role were reversed, there wouldnât even be a phone call, steve would happily ignore all his responsibilities if it meant he got to laze around with you, the most important person in his life.
itâs quiet, and the only sound in the room is nancyâs small voice bleeding through the speaker. sheâs gossiping, giggling about something jonathan said and the vibration of your laughter makes steve look up, and he hates that heâs jealous over nothing. he hates that your attention is split between two, especially when it was so rare for the two of you to have a joint day off like this. sure, you both technically worked at the radio station, and you guys did see each other everyday, but rarely did he get to have you to himself like this.
heâs bored, grumbling under his breath and it momentarily grabs your attention, nancyâs speaking, but youâre not particularly listening right now, eyes locked onto your pouting boyfriend, whoâs rolling his eyes and moving out of your space. youâre raising an eyebrow, and heâs leaning over you, and a part of you is expecting him to cling on to you, to bridge the sudden space between you. he cranes his body over yours, and breathes out a quick âsorry nance.â before taking the phone out of you hand and hanging up, placing it back on the cradle, and you can hear her sigh before sheâs cut off. âsteve, i was using that.â and he hums, clearly not listening in favour of wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side and focusing on the movie that played as background noise.
âoh sorry, i didnât realise.â heâs being sarcastic, and you roll your eyes and hit his chest playfully, melting into his embrace nonetheless, because you were always so weak for your boyfriend despite his questionable intentions. âyouâre lucky i love you.â and he canât fight the smile on his face, he canât play the role of the upset boyfriend anymore, because you always knew how to have him swoon with just a few words. âyeah? love you too.â thereâs a lingering kiss to the edge of your mouth, and youâre turning your head, trying to catch his lips fully but heâs pulling away, teasing you like he always does.
âsteve..â the roles feel reversed now, like youâre the one vowing for his attention and you realise just how easy to played into his hands. âyouâre annoying.â he nods, âengrossedâ in the movie, and your fingers are grazing his jaw, pulling him back into your bubble so you can kiss him properly, so you can give him the attention you both were craving. âoh, hi baby.â steve is playing dumb, and you shake your head, bringing him even closer to the point where you have your legs thrown over his lap, perched on his thighs and blocking the view of the tv. âdonât âhi babyâ me steve.â and the act drops, hands on your waist and heâs sighing into his mouth, both of you longing for the other.
âmissed you.â heâs murmuring against your lips, breath mingling with yours and you can feel the way he pouts like he just canât believe you wouldâve rather spoken to nancy than to have him like this. âiâve been here all day stevie..â and heâs shaking his head, pulling you closer because itâs different, yeah, you were here physically, but your attention wasnât. steve just wanted to spend his day lying around idly with his girlfriend with no distractions, no interruptions.
âyou were on the phone with nance for ages..â a sigh leaves your lips, cooing at his obvious bitterness and youâre quick to move both hands to the sides of his face, forcing him to look at you and you lean in for a chaste kiss. âit was for like ten minutes, youâre such a big baby..â steve rolls his eyes, but thereâs a crack of a smile when he feels you stare at him, eyes shining with that familiar adoration and he doesnât respond to your very true statement, because heâs aware that he was acting out, but really, who cares when heâs got you like this.
âyeah yeah, now can we please pay attention to your very handsome, doting boyfriend who wants to kiss his beautiful girlfriend right now.â and you just nod, breathing out a laugh and leaning forward once again.
iii.
dustin really wishes he missed this crawl, maybe then he wouldnât have to deal with you and steve giggling in the front of the van like two lovesick teenagers. steveâs got a hand situated on your thigh, hearts in his eyes as you sit there, full focus on him whilst he explains the significance of the clutch pedal. you had made an offhanded comment on how you wish you learnt how to drive manual, and steve perked up, he felt like a petrolhead, eager to teach you all he knew.
dustinâs fiddling with a rubikâs cube he found lying around in the back, waiting for the signal from the others at the station, knowing itâd take awhile before they could finally hit the road. so heâs sighing, looking anywhere but the two of you, because he can already picture it, the way steve is gloating, priding himself on his extensive knowledge of shifting gears. he doesnât need to look over to picture the way youâre batting your eyes, humming along to every word steve says, hyperaware of how steveâs hand is inching higher without him even realising it.
dustin wants to gag, you two were so disgustingly into each other that itâs suffocating, itâs got him flicking the antenna of his walkie and mumbling into the speaker, voicing a prayer and a cry for help. he can hear a snicker on the other side of the frequency, itâs robin, and she doesnât even have the courtesy to act surprised, because it could be worse. âdonât bother henderson, itâs been like this all day.â and he sighs, because he thought you two wouldâve been tired of each other by now, really, he doesnât understand how you find steve interesting enough to be infatuated by him at all waking hours of the day.
he thinks of steve like an older brother, his best friend, someone he looks up to but even he also knows just how annoying he can be. he admires your loyalty, because dustin mightâve clawed his hair out if he had to deal with steve the same way you do. steve was different before the two of you met, that cool, uncaring facade he carried with him only switched on when you were around and now that you two were together and grossly in love, it was like he was looking at a completely different person.
steve harrington, the same guy who beat the shit out some demodogs, who put up a fight against the russians is now the same steve whoâs distracted by your every move, who misses his queues at the squawk because heâs too enamoured by you walking past while theyâre on air. the same steve who keeps a polaroid of you two in his wallet, who insists that he canât hang out with dustin on sundayâs because itâs date night, or because you two are seeing a movie. the same steve thatâs looking at you like youâve hung the stars, even in the cramped seats of the squawk van.
itâs best to ignore you two for now, because dustin knows that steve is too focused on you to even entertain his disappointed looks he keeps throwing at the pair of you. steve canât help it though, heâs been dreaming for a girl like you, and now that youâre finally his, he wants to make sure that you know how much you mean to him, even at the cost of being teased by the entire party for being at your beck and call.
â..and thatâs how you avoid a stall.â youâre nodding, and steveâs got that smug smile he always has when heâs showing off, and you couldnât find him any more attractive as you do right now. youâre not even remotely interested in manual driving anymore, not when youâre distracted by how he looks so hot when heâs focused on something. you donât even register the static of laughter in the back, the sound of a snicker coming through the speakers because steveâs looking at you in full earnest, soft smile tugged on his lips and itâs like the world around you goes mute.
âokay lovebirds, please donât forget iâm here too.â a voice chimes in, and itâs like someoneâs snapped their fingers, your attention drifting over from steve to dustinâs folded arms, he twitches when he can see you finally take off your rose tinted glasses and come back down to earth. you hear steve sigh beside you, annoyed that your time together is always cut short, and turns his head to greet his younger friend. âyes henderson?â but heâs distracted by the sound of your laughter, youâre clearing enjoying the exchange between the two and it just peeves dustin off more.
steve really canât stay annoyed for long, not when youâre there; he has a soft spot for you always, and not even dustinâs glare can spoil his mood. âcanât you two hold it in until after the crawl?â dustin chimes in again, his hands emphasising the telemetry tracker beside him, and you nod, promising the two of you will behave, much to steveâs dismay. âbaby..â you hold a hand out to stop steve from speaking out, and he pauses, eyes looking between you and dustin, and you can see the exact moment he gives up.
steve doesnât remove his hand from your thigh though, instead he laces his fingers with yours and squeezes, because he still craves your touch even when heâs silently moping like this. you smile at him, squeezing back, and itâs then that they finally get the signal to drive, and dustin couldnât be happier.
iv.
the kids had just graduated, and you soon find yourself situated with the others on the roof of the radio station. the nostalgia hitting and memories flood in of your time together at the squawk, and it feels like no time has changed, despite it being over a year since you all decided to pursue your seperate aspirations. thereâs the lingering feeling of sentimentality, seeing your friends after months apart, and knowing itâll be a long ways away until youâre all reunited again after this. it didnât help that robinâs final goodbye on the radio had your heart feeling heavy for the past couple hours now, and sitting here, drink in tow, wasnât doing it any favours.
jonathan and steve are bickering about the premise of jonathanâs film; capitalism, cannibalism? you werenât really paying attention to the two, your eyes trailing around you, taking in the scenery, the sunset, the memories, and youâre thinking back to the first time you had discovered how to climb up to the roof. robin notices your silence, because she too is reminiscing all the time she took for granted with you guys, you two lock eyes, and thereâs a silent agreement that youâd give anything to go back to how things were, minus the end of the world.
itâs then that robin speaks, roping nancy into spilling information about the âhot babes at emerson.â which has nancy rolling her eyes. she had dropped out, and that itself felt like a bombshell, but she had always known that maybe it wasnât on the cards for her, that she was destined for other things, and you envy it a little. you hadnât quite figured out what you wanted to do with your time, you felt a bit behind, and it was scary.
steve notices how quiet youâve gotten, and the familiar feeling of his hand sliding into yours, fingers intertwined, is enough to silence that nagging voice in your head for the time being. youâre squeezing his hand back, grateful for the distraction before you notice the others around you fall quiet, itâs jarring how awkward it feels before robinâs clearing her throat, and sheâs the one to address the elephant in the room.
âso is no one going to mention that huge rock on your hand?â and just like that, the air around you feels lighter and you canât help but laugh at how blunt sheâs being, and how shocked the others look when they finally take notice of the ring on your finger. âholy shit!â nancy exclaims, and sheâs quick to move out of her chair, smacking steveâs hand out of yours; to which he groans in faux annoyance, in favour of checking the diamond attached to you.
it makes steveâs heart swell, the familiar feeling of pride that situates itself whenever he looks down at the engagement ring he had bought months ago. itâs a reminder of just how lucky he is, how heâs finally found the one, that heâs promised forever with you. âoh yeah, that..â youâre shy when people notice, but you canât fight the grin that makes itâs way to your face every time, because steve harrington will always be your person, and now you have a physical reminder of that.
âspoiled her on a coachâs salary too.â you smack his shoulder, and steve pouts, knowing you canât stay mad at him for long. thereâs obvious heart eyes when you look up at him, that all too familiar feeling of yearning you donât think will ever fade. itâs disgustingly cute, atleast thatâs what robin says when she breaks the silence, and you canât help but shy away from the eyes of the others, their gazes soft and it makes you feel extra vulnerable.
âtook you long enoughâ robinâs calling out from beside you, and you furrow your eyebrows, because it still shocks you when you think back to his proposal, steve down on one knee with shining eyes and wobbly smile. he had this speech about how he couldnât imagine a life without you, it was endearing how nervous he was, how sweaty his hand got whilst it was latched with yours, and you always tear up when you think back to that moment, how easy it was to say yes.
ânow, whatâre your thoughts about having six little nuggets?â jonathan jokes, and steve shoots him a glare, but you donât fail to metion how easy it is to imagine a family with steve. âi mean, maybe not six, but definitely atleast two.â and it shuts steve up, you two had only really talked about kids a handful of times, nothing too serious, but heâs looking at you with stars in his eyes, thereâs that familiar look of adoration, and you can see jonathan instantly regret bringing it up. âgreat, youâve set him off again.â and steve doesnât even care, because heâll always be guilty of being in love with you, and god forbid a man is infatuated with his future wife.
yeah i ainât even got an excuse for this one i literally blinked and it became this big ass fic.
i sincerely hope you all enjoyed this :) & please lmk if this was ok!!
i think a part of myself will always have room for steve, especially over the last month or so since i started writing. itâs kinda scary releasing something, but seeing people reblog and comment that they like my writing is enough for me to continue !!