OFF LIMITS (BUT HE’S RIGHT HERE) || PART ONE
⭑—synopsis: satoru gojo was that rich, annoying childhood friend you could never escape and you were just the poor girl trying to beat his natural genius. but final year at university changes everything when a housing mistake makes him your new roommate.
⭑—pairing: satoru gojo x reader
⭑—warnings: forced proximity, roommates, academic rivalry, childhood friends to rivals to lovers, heavy teasing, virgin reader, slow burn to high tension.
the thing about satoru gojo was that he never had to try.
when you were seven, he was the rich kid from the big house down the road who broke your favorite colored pencils just to see you cry, then bought you a new box three times the size the next day because he was bored. when you were fourteen, he was the genius boy who slept through every math class and still got first place in the whole prefecture, while you spent your nights working under a cheap desk lamp, drinking instant coffee that tasted like battery acid, just to stay a few points behind him.
you were the poor girl from the bad side of the town, trying hard just to get by on school scholarships. he was the rich heir, a boy born with everything handed to him on a silver platter, with a brain that took in everything like a sponge and a face that made everyone stop and look in the street.
by the time university started, the gap between you two was just too big. you stopped looking at him. he stopped breaking your pencils. you grew apart, lost in a huge campus that kept the rich kids in the high-end apartments and the scholarship students in the cramped, leaking basements. you became strangers who just happened to share a childhood—cold nods in the hallway, fake smiles if you saw each other outside, nothing more.
until the housing office fucked up.
a final year mistake. a glitch in the university portal. you had showed up to room 505 expecting a quiet, normal girl from the engineering department. instead, you found six feet and three inches of expensive perfume, white hair and a lazy, annoying smirk leaning against the door.
for the first week, you didn’t talk.
it was a quiet agreement because you hadn’t spoken in years. the dorm room was tiny—barely enough space for two small beds, two desks and a single wardrobe that looked like it was going to fall over against the bad wallpaper. you stayed on your side. he stayed on his. when he was in the room, you made yourself small, hiding under your cheap, thin blanket. when he left for his late-night parties, you finally felt like you could breathe.
but a week changes things. a week makes a small space feel like a tight cage.
it started on a tuesday. the rain was hitting the single window of room 505 really hard and the room was cold enough to make your fingers stiff as you typed. you were sitting at your desk, surrounded by three different library books, highlighters and a notebook filled with fast, neat writing. you had an exam in two days—a hard class that you needed an a in to keep your scholarship money.
behind you, the springs of your cheap bed made a loud sound.
you didn’t turn around. you knew it was him. he had come back twenty minutes ago, smelling like rain and that ridiculously expensive, fresh citrus perfume that always made your chest feel tight. he hadn’t said a single word. he had just taken off his wet jacket, kicked off his designer shoes and dropped his huge body right onto your bed.
ten minutes passed. then twenty.
the sound of your pen writing felt so fucking loud. and through it all, you could feel it—the weight of his eyes.
satoru wasn’t wearing his usual dark sunglasses or the black blindfold he used when he wanted to ignore the world. he was just sitting there, his long legs crossed, his chin resting in his hand. those crazy, shockingly blue eyes were staring right at the back of your neck.
it wasn’t just a quick look. it was a heavy, long, deliberate stare.
your shoulders got tight. you read the same sentence three times and still didn’t get it. your pen hovered over the paper and a drop of ink made a dark stain because your hand was shaking from how uncomfortable he made you feel.
“can i help you?” you finally snapped, your voice sharp in the quiet room. you didn’t turn around yet, your eyes fixed on your book, your jaw tight.
no answer. just the slow, steady sound of his breathing.
you dropped your pen. it rolled across the desk and hit the wall with a small clack. turning your chair around, you glared across the small space between your desk and the bed.
satoru didn’t even blink. he looked way too big for your old, cheap sheets, his white hair messy over his forehead. that lazy, teasing smile—the one you hadn’t seen up close in years—slowly came onto his face.
“what, classmate?” he said, his voice deep and a little rough. “can’t a guy look at his oldest friend?”
“we aren’t friends, satoru. we haven’t been for years,” you said, trying to sound as cold as possible. “and you have your own bed. it’s literally three feet away. get off mine.”
“mhm, yours is softer,” he lied easily, leaning back on his elbows and stretching his long legs out across your whole bed. his knee almost touched the edge of your chair. “besides, you look so serious. you always did that when we were kids. wrinkling your nose like you’re trying to fight the textbook.”
“i’m trying to study. which some of us actually need to do to pass.”
“is that about my natural genius?” he laughed, the sound low and deep in the small room. he tilted his head, his blue eyes glowing with a sudden, dangerous spark of fun. “you’re still trying to beat me, aren’t you? even now. final year and you’re still working all night just to see if you can get a tiny bit higher than me.”
your face got hot with a mix of anger and shame. because he was right. he was always fucking right.
“get off my bed,” you said again, your voice dropping low, trying to warn him.
satoru didn’t move. instead, he leaned forward, sliding off his elbows until he was sitting on the very edge of your bed, his knees on both sides of your chair. the sudden closeness made the air in the room feel incredibly thick and hard to breathe. the smell of his perfume came over you—sharp, clean and aggressively rich.
“make me,” he whispered, his smile turning wicked.
“you’ve been ignoring me for a whole week,” he complained, his voice turning into that childish, whiny tone he used when he wanted to annoy people, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, steady and scary. “it’s boring. i missed my little rival. the dorm is so quiet when you act like i’m a ghost.”
“you are a ghost. we don’t have anything in common anymore,” you said, pressing your back against the hard plastic of your chair, trying to get some distance. but there was nowhere to go. your room was too small. he was too big.
“is that what you think?” satoru reached out, his long fingers hovering just an inch away from your desk, before he picked up your dropped pen. he spun it easily between his fingers—a perfect, smooth motion. “we have plenty in common. for example... we’re both stuck in this tiny, hot room. and you’re stressed. really, really stressed.”
“i wouldn’t be if you stopped staring at me.”
“i can’t help it,” he murmured, his voice dropping back into that low, close tone. he leaned in a little closer, his face just inches from yours. you could see his long eyelashes, the slight wet tips of his white hair. “you look so pretty when you’re angry. your cheeks get all red. just like when we were twelve and i threw your bag in the fountain.”
“you were a jerk then and you’re a jerk now.”
“but you’re looking at me now, aren’t you?” he let out a soft, happy sound, dropping the pen back onto your desk with a click. “no more ignoring me.”
you swallowed hard, your eyes dropping to his lips for a split second before snapping back to his eyes. satoru didn’t miss it. his smile got wider, a low laugh catching in his throat.
“what’s the matter?” he teased, his voice like a soft purr. “losing your focus? did the poor scholarship girl forget how to read because a hot guy is sitting too close?”
“i’m going back to work,” you said, your voice shaking a little even though you tried to stop it. you started to turn your chair back to the desk, but satoru’s hand shot out, grabbing the plastic arm of your chair tightly, freezing you in place.
“don’t,” he murmured. “stay here.”
“no.” he moved, sliding off the bed completely until he was kneeling on the floor right in front of your chair. even kneeling, he was so tall that he didn’t have to look up much to meet your eyes. his big hands moved from the chair to your knees, his palms warm and heavy through your cheap sweatpants.
your breath stopped. the touch was totally wrong for ‘childhood friends’ who hadn’t spoken in years. it was on purpose. it was a line being crossed, slowly and surely.
“what are you doing?” you whispered, your heart beating against your ribs so loudly you were sure he could hear it.
“testing something,” satoru said softly. his thumbs rubbed the sides of your knees, a slow, hot touch that sent a sharp shiver straight up your back. “you always had so much pride. so stubborn. you’d rather break than ask me for help, right? you’d rather stay up all night than admit that you want something.”
“i don’t want anything from you,” you lied, your hands gripping the seat until your knuckles turned white.
“liar,” he whispered. he slid his hands up your thighs, just a little bit, the heat of his palms making a wave of warmth bloom between your legs. “your skin is so warm. and your heart is beating so fast.”
he leaned up, his breath hitting your lips. the smell of his perfume was everywhere now, filling your head until you couldn’t think about your exams, or your money, or how rich he was. there was only him. there was only satoru, taking up every bit of your space.
“satoru...” your voice was weak, a soft cry that sounded way more like a ‘yes’ than a ‘no.’
“tell me to stop,” he murmured, his lips rubbing against the corner of your mouth, so close but not quite kissing you. “tell me to go back to my side of the room and i will. use that smart brain of yours and tell me no.”
you opened your mouth, but the word got stuck in your throat. your stubborn pride, the thing that had kept you away from him for years, was fighting with a sudden, huge hunger that had been hidden deep inside you for just as long. you didn’t want him to stop. you wanted to beat him, yes, but more than that, you wanted to know what it felt like to have all that effortless genius directed entirely at ruining you.
when you didn’t answer, satoru let out a dark, happy laugh.
“that’s what i thought,” he whispered.
his hand moved to the back of your neck, his long fingers tangling in your hair and he finally pulled you down into a kiss.
it wasn’t gentle. it was everything satoru was—arrogant, heavy and totally overwhelming. his tongue slid into your mouth, taking you with an easy power that left you breathless, tasting like the rain and the faint mint he’d been chewing earlier. you let out a small, soft whimper, your hands flying to his shoulders, gripping the expensive cloth of his shirt just to hold on as the world spun around you.
he kissed you until your lips felt bruised and your head was light, his thumb pressing hard into the side of your jaw to keep you still, making you take every single bit of him.
when he finally pulled back, just an inch, his eyes were dark and his chest was moving up and down fast. a thin line of spit connected your lips before breaking.
“look at you,” he panted, his thumb wiping the wet corner of your mouth. “so smart, but you melt so easily under me.”
“shut up,” you gasped, your face burning hot.
“make me,” he whispered again, his hand sliding down to the waist of your sweatpants. “let’s see how long that pride of yours lasts tonight.”
