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using violence to liberate people from sweatshops, unsafe mines, and grinding poverty isn't the same as using violence to impose those things on people. the idea that violence is morally repugnant regardless of context is a belief that every oppressor throughout history would love for the oppressed to hold
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How it feels when you try to find a fanfic where the MC/reader isn't a white tiny woman, who for some reason isn't capable of intelligent thoughts and just keeps crying and following the ML/romantic interest like she is a child who keeps needing saving and crying
She is also either tiny and small or "chubby" (it's not chubby it's literally just the same white girl with huge breasts and big ass and thighs)
âand she's on top of me, and it is hot, hot, hot.â
disclaimer; i dont fw mcafferty, at all. but the song is so him.
mdni. cw: mutual masturbation, theyâre practically edating, gooner x gooner, fingering, premature ejaculation, ummm, what else, unprotected sex, does that count as grown folk sex or not, riding for like five minutes, mommy kink (sorry i had to sneak it in there), whiney pathetic denki, so nothing new, bad language, recreational drug use, virgin denki, virgin reader. reader is thick fem coded.
wc: 3.9k
â» â || â· âș
starting trackâŠ.
you've never actually met denki kaminari.
which is weird.
because, at this point, he's basically integrated himself into your daily routine.
he's the first person you speak to when you wake up, the last person you message before you go to sleep. the first person you go to text when something happens, small things, big things, bullshit that no one else is going to understand, movie reviews, song recommendations.
you've followed each other for... god, maybe two years now? one of those internet mutual situations. it was either a tiktok comment, or an instagram comment he posted that had you snorting at your screen so hard, you had to follow the guy with the pikachu profile picture, immediately.
always the first person to like your stories, to slide up with stupid reaction gifs, or drooling emojis. and then following it with 5 minute rants about how "this jjk arc is actually about the burden of adolescence", completely serious.
sometimes youâll post something and before youâve even locked your phone againâ
LMAOOOOO
who pissed you off this time
or
okay but hear me out
followed by the worst take youâve ever read in your life.
but you reply every time. because his exact ratio of funny to horny is just so perfectly calibrated to your freakquency.
youâll post a selfie and get:
good lord.
then thirty seconds later:
WAIT WAIT WAIT
i need to rant
and suddenly heâs voice-noting you for four straight minutes about drama inside his friend group.
people you technically know. well. not know know. but know in the way internet mutuals know people. through usernames, blurry instagram stories, occasional re-posts, overheard names.
sero said this, jirou blocked someone, mina got too drunk at a house party, bakugou pushed him down the stairs, again.
and denki relays all of it to you like a disgraced court jester bringing gossip to the queen.
youâll be brushing your teeth at midnight listening to him say some shit like, âNO because tell me why this grown man started shadowboxing in the function because somebody drank his monster.â
and youâre laughing so hard toothpaste nearly goes down your shirt.
itâs easy with him. so easy. easy to reply, easy to keep talking, easy to accidentally spend three hours discussing whether eren yeager was doomed by narrative structure or just mentally ill.
and then youâll realise itâs four in the morning and your phoneâs on 2%.
and heâs still typing, still there. that little green dot beside his name.
because he's always online. chronically.
you don't think there has been a single moment recorded in history where denki hasn't been within five feet of his phone. he'll snap you back when he's on the toilet, mid shit, phone still clutched in his hands. he'll text when you when he's on the train, replies with typos so bad you can physically hear how fast he was typing. snaps while he's walking home.
so eventually, eventually, obviously, inevitably, the natural progression of things.
he starts sending you voice messages while he's jerking off.
your own personal whimper audio plug.
you can't really remember when that started. actually, no, you canâŠ
heâd just finished the third arc of this anime you recommended and absolutely had to call you at two in the morning to tell you exactly what he thought about it. and you were online anyways, active two minutes ago right there beside your profile picture.
only problem is, someone just happened to be mid goon sesh. vibrator pressed to your clit, toes clenched, sweating under your blankets, thighs drenched in your own slick, room dark except for the glow of your phone screen.
you're still not really sure what possessed you to press accept on his call, and you're even less sure why you continued to pleasure yourself with him rambling down the phone.
maybe it was the confidence that comes with anonymity, the fact that he doesn't know you in real life. maybe it was curiosity. maybe it was the fact he actually listened to you, watched the things you recommended, came back wanting your opinions like they matter, like you matter.
or maybe he's just⊠easy to listen to? warm, animated, endearing. the soothing tone of his voice, of him snickering at his own jokes.
ââŠright? like iâm not saying he was justified, but if that happened to me i probably wouldâve done worse.... what dâyou think?â
âiââ your voice catches, badly. you bite down hard on your lip, trying to stifle your moans, âummânghâsorry, what?â
thereâs immediate shuffling on his end.
âoh shit,â denki backtracks quickly. âsorry, were you asleep? fuck, my bad dude, just call me back in the morningââ
"no!" you reply, too fast, too desperate, you fuckingâ what the fuck is wrong with you, âno... sâfine. just⊠keep talking.â
there's a beat, a pause, and then, "oh, uhhh, okay...?" he continues on, rambling, but his voice is lower, slower, calmer, like heâs suddenly hyper-aware of every sound coming through the phone.
finally, he throws in the towel, bites the bullet.
ââŠsorryâ you can literally kill me if iâm wrong but⊠are youââ
he coughs, awkwardly.
âare you touching yourself?â
god.
you really should've lied.
should've hung up the phone, messaged him back in the morning, or something, literally anything else.
but, ohhh, you didn't even care at that point. your orgasm already building hot under your skin and there was something strangely intoxicating about the fact he could tell, that he was even listening close enough to notice.
âyeah,â you breathe out before you can stop yourself. âyeah⊠iâm playing with myself.â
your voice wrecked in a way denki had never heard before.
heâs quiet now, fuck, fuck, fuck, you blew it.
heâs probably cut the call, gonna tell all his friends what a weirdo you are, maybe post a story-time on his close friends about the pervy girl rubbing herself while on the phone to him.
but⊠the humiliation of him finding out doesnât derail you from the path of pleasure youâre already walking down, and although youâd never admit it, it probably makes it hotter. you might as well finish, you can wallow in your self-pity tomorrow.
the vibrations sound louder now that youâre not being a self conscious freak. youâre whimpering softly while the buzzing echoes against the slick running down your thighs, wet and muffled beneath the blankets.
you can hear it.
so can denki.
âis thatââ he swallows, and you flinch in surprise at his voice suddenly coming through the receiver again, but you donât bother slowing down. âis thatâŠis that your pussy? thatâthat noise?â
what noise, the bzzz-bzzz-squelch-squelch? is he serious, âwhat else would it be?â
âi donâtâ i dunno, it justâŠâ he stumbles over the words. âit just sounds so⊠so wet.â
âmhmmm,â yeah, yeah it really does sound so wet, doesnât it.
âdoes it always get like that?â
âmhmmm.â
a shaky breath crackles through the phone.
and then,
âw-wish i could see.â
what?
what?
oh.
you almost sigh in real time, what did you even have to worry about? did you forget this is denki, denki kaminari, the same freak who once said he would 'fuck your armpit' as a 'joke.'
the thought barely settles before you finally notice another sound leaking through the phone.
rhythmic. wet.
fap-fap-fap.
you still immediately, fingers curling around your little bullet vibe to switch it off. were you seriously so distracted you didnât notice? didnât hear this, didnât hear him?
the wet schilcks of his hand working his cock, "wish i could seeâno- wish i c-could-could touch itânngggh-oh fu-uckâwish i could-hck!- wish i could fuckinâ taste you."
worse than you, oh, he's waaaay worse than you.
âw-wish you were here,â his voice crackles through the receiver alongside another ruined, greedy, sound. âwish you could see how messy i gotââ
âdenkiââ
âfuuuck,â he whines softly. âsay my name again, please. please, iâmââ
âdenki, youâre so gross.â
âhahâ shiiit, yeah,â he sounds obscene, like he can barely get the words out, âthatâs the stuff.â
and seriously? already? because you've barely been on the phone for five minutes, there's no way he got this bad, that quickly. but you canât deny how much it makes your pussy throb.
âyeah i'm gross, but you're worse, you started it.â
and that was the start of it, and i wish i could say it ended there.
but it didnât.
because even freaks get tired of e-sex at some point.
â» â || â· âș
it took a while for you guys to get to this point.
months of voice messages and facetimes, of teleparty and shared playlists, of beefing each other in comment sections and thirsting in dms.
and for denki, it all led to this moment.
your bedroom feels too warm.
his trainers are abandoned messily by your door beside your tote bag. one of your hoodies hangs off the back of your desk chair. fairy lights glow dim amber against the walls, mixing with the bluish light of your laptop screensaver bouncing around the dark room.
everything smells faintly like vanilla, fabric softener, and the weed the two of you smoked an hour ago with your bedroom window cracked open.
his hands shake.
so inexperienced and yet, so eager to please, they gently grope every inch of your body.
you never really enjoyed having your chest played with all that much, but thereâs something about how denkiâs heavy palm massages the underside of your tit, like heâs trying to unlock something, or explore.
and then his thumb brushes over your nipple, a shock to your system, you arch forward into his touch, body moving on auto pilot.
god, he wants to see you do it again.
he's dreamt about this, about this exact moment, for weeks. every stray thought, every dirty dream, you've plagued him.
mmmmm, and your body is so warm, and soft. inviting. his hands grip the flesh of your thighs, the fat bulging around his fingertips, the softness of your skin, right here, right here in front of him, not through a screen or part of a picture.
holy shit.
he really canât take it.
because he's jerked off to the thought of you for so long, he's milked himself dry to the sound of your voice, he's wrung his cock to your smile, he's edged himself to the idea of what your hair would smell like, what your skin would feel like.
nutted all over his phone screen, humped his hand for hours.
he never thought he would even get the opportunity to meet you in real life, let alone be allowed into your bedroom, let alone have you underneath him, in nothing but panties and a fucking t-shirt.
he's literally trembling, his palms sweating as he grips you again, harder, firmer, like this is a dream, like if he blinks too much he might wake up, and he'll be back in his bed making a mess all over himself, another late-night fantasy while heâs half-delirious and horny, just like usual.
âdenki, hey, dude, are you⊠good?â
but he's not at home, he's not in his bed, this isn't a wet dream, he's not gonna wake up to bakugou breaking his door down and telling him to take out the trash.
he shakes his head with a smile, âyeah, yeah, i'm goodâ sorry, i'm out of it.â
youâre definitely hiding it better, but youâre equally nervous.
so fucking nervous. you nearly cancelled last night because of how badly your stomach had twisted itself up. was he even gonna like you? would he still think youâre hot, even in real life? you barely slept, up all night thinking about what he was expecting, and whether you would meet those expectations.
if he knew how you were feeling, he probably wouldâve slapped you or something. because this is better. this is so much better. so much better than dreaming or imagining, even now, the way youâre smiling up at him, glasses slipping down your nose, pretty eyes focused on him, and what heâs doing, and if heâs feeling okay.
youâre so perfect.
and he has to make you feel good, he needs to.
you spent the last two hours, half watching something on your laptop, and half making out.
andâŠ
that was life changing.
itâs so indescribable, he still feels dizzy from it. how you felt in his lap, the warm heat of your body consuming his very being. the feeling of your tongue down his throat, his hands around your neck, your lips against his, he almost came, just like that, just from a little kissing.
can you really blame him.
it was so good.
but this is about to be better.
it's so easy for you to melt into him. maybe it's the nervous energy radiating off of him that calms your own nerves. you've always been that kind of person, quick to accommodate to other peopleâs needs, in tune with their feelings.
and denki wears his heart on his sleeve. he's easy to read, an open book. also his face is flushed a beautiful pink, he's panting, breathing heavily into your mouth, pupils blown wide every time you touch him.
so you kiss him again, just to relax him of course, certainly not because you're craving the feeling of him against you, his shirtless torso pressed flush against your chest.
it works though, he defrosts, relaxes, nearly crumples against you, against the soft swell of your chest, his hands snaking down the sides of your body, fingers dipping underneath the fabric and fuck, are you reallyââthis soft everywhere?â
you hum at his question, then quickly realise he's talking to himself, hypnotised by the feeling of your flesh, he has to be dreaming because there is actually no way you're really, ââso fuckin' soft, oh my god.â
he's still stuck on that? you click your tongue, as much as you would love to explore each other bodies in this PG-13 way, you've soaked yourself through your panties. maybe you're the real pervert, he's having a wonderful time just touching your skin, and all you're thinking about is how badly you want him inside you.
you do it yourself.
slip a hand in the gap between your bodies, your nervous, virgin, freaked out, bodies, and slide your fingers below the hem of your underwear. you barely graze your outer lips before he's snatching your hand, a little too rough, a little too hungry. he loosens his grip almost immediately but holds your gaze, âplease, please let me do it, i promise it'll be good,â his thumb strokes nervously against the inside your wrist, âiâ i'll be careful, i'll be gentle with you, i swear.â
who are you to say no? how could you, not when his hands slide down your thighs with gentle reverence, not when he clutches the hem of your panties like he's afraid he'll hurt them.
never mind, he can't do it.
he has to close his eyes, he can't look, can't watch the way your pussy juice clings to the fabric. he peeks open an eyelid, then closes it again. his heart is beating so fast he might throw up.
âdenki, babe,â babe??? he nearly screeches, his eyes flutter open again, the faint smile that's painted on your face makes him spurt a tad, you really are perfect, âjust breathe, okay, it's fine, you're doing great.â
you really have a way with words, because that kicks him into overdrive, he slips the fabric down so it pools around your knees, and, and, and heâ
letâs out a strangled whimper when he sees your puffy pussy lips, drenched in your own slick.
âdid iââ he swallows, panting, âdid i do this tâyou?â eyes transfixed on your trembling cunt. he drags a single finger through the mess, through your slick, until the digit is coated. hisses out a curse when he retracts the finger and thereâs a string of your arousal that clings to it.
your arousal, your pussy, your fucking pussy, âg-god,â he slurs around the finger, licking up every last drop of you, and then inhaling deeply, the scent of your pussy making his eyes roll back into his head.
how has he come all this way, just to slurp your mess off of his finger and hump your mattress.
he has to pull it together.
but youâre making it so difficult.
âd'you know," a strangled groan cuts him off and he gulps, "d'you know, how often iâve dreamt about this, itââ
he's using you like a fidget toy, two fingers dragging through your slick, drawing patterns, somewhat, mostly assessing the area. what makes you flinch, what makes you gasp, what makes you grip his shoulders with both your hands and beg him to keep going.
you dig your nails into him, while he traces your pulsing labia, the calluses of his fingertips trailing a path across your pussy, there's no way his cock can go in there, inside you, inside your mushy gummy walls, that are clenching around his fingers, there's no way he can go in there and come out alive. you'll strangle him to death and he'll never want to leave.
"she's so pretty," as he stares, absolutely mesmerised at the wetness coating his palm as his fingers scissor open your pussy. âso, fucking, pretty.â
and youâre really not making it any better for him, your thighs quivering uncontrollably, his hands feel so much better than your own. you let him know, verbally, but also with how your eyes glaze over, how your breathing stutters, how you lift your legs to wrap around him, to keep him there.
the pressure of your thighs pushes him further into your mattress, and thereâs a spark of delicious, addicting, friction that catches him. causes him to twitch against you, crash his mouth into yours, sharing each otherâs whimpers.
you canât go on like this, you try to open your mouth, to speak, to tell him to hurry up and stick his fucking dick in you already. but he doesnât let you, heâs already lost, of course he is.
the weakest, most pathetic humps, his crotch positioned perfectly in between your legs but also resting on the bed below. so when he grinds his hips down thereâs a shock that travels up his spine, but your bodies are close enough that he if he closes his eyes, he can pretend heâs actually fucking you.
denkiâs such an idiot.
your pussy right there, heâs literally cupping your warmth with his palm, fingers prodding against your g-spot, and yet all he can do is imagine, slip off into a daydream where heâs fucking you for real.
and you have a feeling that if you donât do something to snap him out of it right now, heâd spend the whole night doing just that. pretending to fuck you in his head, while youâre right there, right here, squirming underneath him.
heâs lucky you think heâs cute.
âdenki, babyâŠâ
he inhales like heâs just been dunked into a tub of ice water, his eyes snap up from where theyâd spiralled over watching his fingers disappear inside you, the creamy slick coating the digits, the heat, theâ
âdenki?â
âhmm?â god heâs so hot, and still so fucking adorable, heâs pouting like youâve pulled him away from something important.
âdonât you wanna⊠put it in?â
put it in? put it in? put what inâ oh, oh right. of course, of course he does, but his eyebrows raise like he didnât realise that was an option.
he fumbles one handed, nearly knocks himself over in his haste to undo his belt, fucking stupid belt, the clasp gets stuck and he, fuck itâs fine, itâs all good, heâs so normal about this.
you motion like youâre about to offer assistance, then his cock springs out, slaps against his stomach andâŠ
oh, oh, the poor thing.
flushed, angry at being ignored, bright pink, and leaking. leaking all over his abs, all over his stomach, the inside of his jeans, the inside of his boxers.
fucking hell.
you nearly start laughing, not mocking, more like, when youâve been sat at a restaurant for so long, hungry, waiting, for ages, and then they finally bring the food out, and itâs so:
yummy.
thatâs it.
you pounce on him like heâs prey, practically manhandle him into laying flat on his back, and clamber over his thighs, your legs bracketing his hips.
and denki moans like a fucking whore.
âoh, holy shit,â his hands twitch like heâs not sure whether heâs allowed to touch you, but he really canât stop running his mouth like, âyouâre gonnaâgonna ride me- oh, pleasepleasepleaseââ
his voice cracks right down the middle when you finally, finally, sink down.
shit, it is a stretch, despite how long he spent playing with your cunt, but itâs so fucking delicious, mhmmm, you both feel it, the drag of his weeping veiny cock sweeping along the walls of your pussy.
and for the first time all night, heâs quiet.
dead silent.
you think his nose might start bleeding.
his lips, bitten, chapped, parted, rushed puffs of air leaving his body, eyes rolled back into his head, then fluttering, like his soul is being exorcised.
the dam breaks.
âis itâ is it supposed to feel like this?â heâs delirious, cloudy eyed and drunk, âholy shi-iiitâcan't believe it feels this good.â
he grips your thighs, tight enough to leave bruises, and whimpers when you grind down against him and your tits bounce, right in his fucking face.
âedged myself for th-three days,â he confesses as he drools into your skin, he can't look you in the eye, he presses his mouth against your chest and murmurs, âsaved up so much cum for you, all for you.â
âcan you feel me, all the way inside.â he presses down on your lower stomach, the pressure makes your toes curl, âc-canât believe iâm inside you, canât believe you let meâoh, oh, fuck, wait, donâtââ
donât what? donât clench around his cock. donât clamp down on him with your hot gummy walls. donât pull him back in when he tries to move. how are you supposed to do that?
âgonnaâ gonna give you so much cum,â small, sloppy semi-upward thrusts, he can't even move properly, just humping up against you like a dog, âm'gonna make you feel so good, gonna fill you upâ m-make you feel so fucking goodââ
he's slurring, drunk off your pussy, drunk off you, âi haftaâ hafta, m-m-makeâ good, gonna be goodâ gonna be a good boy."
and then he's spilling into you, ropes and ropes, of milky white nut, flooding your pussy, filling you to the brim.
but he doesn't stop moving.
in fact, you donât how he mustered up the strength after that pathetic display, but he flips you over, so youâre underneath him again, hisses when his cock slips out, still so fucking hard, still dribbling, one hand gripping your thigh, the other rubbing circles on your clit.
âi c-can keep goingâ can't stop, not 'till you cum too, i promise, i p-promise i'll keep going mommy.â
overstimulation tears through him, his nerves are fried, but still he doesn't stop, doesn't slow down, doesn't give himself a minute to catch his breath. just his cock, hammering into you, drilling into your pussy, âkeepângh-keep going, gotta k-k-keep goingâŠâ
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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 đ«Š, 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 đââïžâ€ïž
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 placeâ except for 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 moreâŠÂ
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 21âŠâ 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: typingâŠ
You:Â
You: typingâŠ
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
âŠYou 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 withâŠÂ 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 angryâŠÂ 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
âYeahâŠâ 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, IâŠÂ 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:
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